“Yes.” He smiled big. “You’re free to read them. Books are meant to be read, even if they are first editions.”
“I have them memorized,” she admitted, her fingertips itching at even the thought of holding the volumes.
“Most people I know just watch the movies.” He looked impressed that she wasn’t one of them.
“Movies are a couple of hours, while books transport you for days or weeks. You can live in the pages of a book.”
“Yes.” His voice was low, his gaze roaming her face again. “Most people don’t understand that. Books can be—”
“A lifeline,” she finished for him. “And you’ve given that precious love of reading to Noah.” She felt herself trembling slightly, as if they were on the brink of a deeper connection than just boss and nanny. Pulling herself together before she could do or say something foolish, she asked, “I was wondering, may I speak with Noah’s kindergarten teacher about his progress?”
“Of course. You have permission to do anything you think will benefit him. As long as he’s safe. Keeping my son safe and happy is the most important thing to me.”
“I’ll always keep him safe,” she said, remembering his story about the bully and the book, and his fears for Noah. “He seems like a very happy child.”
“He usually is, thankfully.”
They were both suddenly so quiet that she could hear a clock ticking down in the front hall. She could feel the heat of his body, smell the clean scent of him as though she had her face buried against his chest. Neither of them moved, but his gaze lighted on her hair, her eyes, her cheeks. Her mouth.
She couldn’t quite keep her body from straining toward him. Especially given the heat she swore was burning in his eyes. He could have been holding his breath, he was so still. And she waited…
“Now that you’re off the clock”—he pushed away from the wall, took a step away from her, and then another—“you probably want to finish unpacking.”
She could have sworn there had been a moment where they’d shared something. But he’d ended it. Abruptly.
Obviously, he’d remembered she was just the nanny.
She’d have to make sure she remembered that too.
Unpacking the few things she’d brought had taken ten minutes. Besides the stash of books she’d collected from thrift stores, she had a few changes of clothing, enough so that she didn’t have to do laundry more than twice a week. She’d learned to travel light after so many moves, first with her mother, then from foster home to foster home. She’d left a few things behind in her studio apartment. Thankfully, Matt was paying her enough to keep it, since there was no way she’d let it go in case her brother, Gideon, came looking for her.
Not wanting Matt to know she had so little to her name, she said, “I thought I’d try out the whirlpool tub in my room. It looks awesome.”
A heavy pause followed, one that was long enough for her to realize—too late—the suggestiveness of her comment.
“Yes,” he finally agreed. “The tubs in this house are great.”
Praying she hadn’t stepped over some nanny boundary and promising herself to be more careful in the future, she said, “Good night.”
When her bedroom door closed, she sagged against it.
If Daniel ever suspected she had the hots for his business partner, he’d tell Matt to send her packing for sure.
Chapter Five
By the end of the first week, Matt was seriously concerned for his sanity.
Ari’s tantalizing scent lingered in a room after she left it. The upstairs hallway smelled like lavender bath salts, and he couldn’t erase the image of her naked in all that bubbling water. Story time with Noah had become torture, with Ari curled up in the wicker chair by the window, listening with rapt attention. He sometimes lost himself in midsentence, unable to keep his eyes off her. Dinner was equally dangerous. She told him about the day’s activities, and he could barely remember a thing. Not when he was so drawn to the heat of her body, the glow of her hair, the sweetness of her skin, the way her mouth moved.
And how badly he wanted to taste her.
If Ari had been merely pretty, he’d have gotten over it. Especially since her exuberance and her unconscious charm had initially reminded him of Noah’s mother. That should have warned him off if nothing else did. Irene was like Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s—silly and carefree, always getting herself into trouble, but so sweet you couldn’t help forgiving her. Until one day you couldn’t take any more…and you realized you’d never be more than a fun, and temporary, distraction. Irene flitted in every few weeks or months, showering Noah with extravagant gifts, then disappearing just as quickly, leaving behind a devastated little boy who couldn’t understand why his mommy always left him.