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Falling for Mr. Wrong(13)

By:Inara Scott


“Kelsey?”

It should have taken him some time to place her. He should have had a moment of doubt before he remembered her name. Instead, he felt like he’d just seen her the day before.

She gaped at him, her mouth falling open slightly. He waited for her to say something, but she was apparently as startled as he was, because no sound emerged.

The attraction was instant. Overwhelming. It had been three years, but he remembered her body as though it had been mapped onto his brain. Memories of their night together assaulted him. He tried to banish them, but images of long tangled hair and tanned skin lingered and burned behind his eyes.

He stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him.

“What are you doing here?” He hoped the words sounded calm and detached, but it was no small feat, considering the loop of tape playing over and over in his head.

Harder. Faster. Please.

They’d made love three times that night. The first had been a blur of pent-up need, the second a more leisurely exploration of bodies and minds, and the third a silent affair with an underlying hint of sadness. He’d never even gotten her last name. They didn’t exchange phone numbers or make any promises to see each other again.

Staying in touch would have been absurd. They couldn’t have been more different.

She couldn’t have been more wrong for him.

He waited another moment, caught somewhere between the urge to grab her in his arms and lose himself in that gorgeous mouth, and going back in the house and hoping he never had to see her again. Finally, she drew in a breath and started to speak.

“I’m…” Her voice broke, and pink flushed her cheeks. There was an awkward silence, and then she said, her words tumbling out in an embarrassed rush, “I’m looking for Jenna Kellington. This is 6141 South Elain, isn’t it?”

He let out a bark of laughter. “Jenna. You’re looking for Jenna, my ex-wife. She had to leave town unexpectedly. Why do you want her?”

She clutched a manila folder against her chest. “Oh God. You’re Luke, Matt, and Julia’s father?”

“Yes,” he drawled. “And?”

“I’m your new babysitter.”

Now he was the one left gaping.

She handed him the folder. “Hope was supposed to come this morning, but she’s in the hospital with food poisoning. Marie tried to call Jenna to let her know but she didn’t get a response.”

“She’s on her way to China,” he replied, his voice dim to his own ears. “Emergency at work.”

Babysitter? His raging one-night stand? The most unsuitable, inappropriate woman he’d ever slept with was his babysitter?

He took the folder she extended, flipping it open without waiting for her response. A typed letter lay on top, signed by Marie Fague, the president and owner of the Gentle Hands Nanny Agency. Excuses, illness, blah blah blah, personal guarantee that Kelsey Hanson would be an excellent temporary fit until Hope was able to go back to work. Background check, driving record…

He looked up. “You’re one of Marie’s regular nannies?”

Pale skin shimmered below the glow of her tan. “No…not exactly. I usually just help with the website.”

“But you’re here to take care of my kids?” The whole scene was so surreal, he could barely make sense of anything she was saying. “Are you sure you’re qualified?”

She paused, taking a breath and letting it out slowly before she continued. “I assure you, Marie wouldn’t have sent me if she didn’t think I’d be able to do the job. If you aren’t comfortable, though, I understand completely.”

She continued to speak, saying something about a restaurant and salmonella, a last-minute search and the usual temps all being busy with summer plans. She spoke mechanically, her nerves visible in the way she played with the narrow strap of her purse.

Inadvertently, he found himself staring at her fingers, and then her shirt, which naturally led his gaze to her breasts, and then he was struck by the memory of kissing those breasts back in his hotel room.

He tripped over the next few words, overwhelmed by a sudden stiffness between his legs. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Marie wasn’t able to find anyone else to take Hope’s place. If you would prefer to take care of them yourself until Hope is back on Wednesday or Thursday, I can let her know.”

The door behind them jerked open, revealing Julia’s dark hair and pursed lips. “Daddy, I was calling and calling and you didn’t answer,” she complained. When she spotted Kelsey she stopped and cocked her head in curiosity. “Who is that?”

“That’s the babysitter.” He could barely force the word from his mouth.