“I’m from Larsland. It’s an archipelago of islands in the Baltic Sea. We’re not far from Denmark and people often get our accents mixed up.”
“I’ve heard of it. Lots of bears and otters.”
“That’s us,” she said, smiling.
He fixed his deep green gaze on her. “Are you going home soon, or are you going to put down roots in the U.S.?”
“I’m seeing a bit of the world, so I’ll probably move on at some point.” That wasn’t strictly true—she wasn’t traveling, but she didn’t yet know what the future held. Once she worked out how, she’d have to return to Larsland and face the music, and it was only fair Liam knew there was an element of uncertainty in her future. “But not until you and Bonnie are ready,” she said to reassure him she wasn’t flighty.
“This wasn’t a lifelong commitment,” he said. “As long as you give me notice, you’ll be free to move on and see more of the world any time you want.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Liam stood, drawing her eyes up his tall frame. “I was serious when I said I’d increase your salary by twenty percent over what Dylan was paying you. And if you have any conditions, let me know.”
“You don’t even know if I’ll be good at the job yet,” she said, pushing to her feet before she got a crick in her neck.
Liam crossed his arms over his broad chest and rocked back on his heels, and once again he looked like the multi-millionaire businessman that he was. “Dylan wouldn’t have kept you this long if you weren’t a good worker, and Bonnie has been happy with you so far. Besides,” he said with a lazy grin, “if it’s not working out, I’ll fire you and hire someone else.”
She knew that grin was meant to soften his words. Instead, as it spread across his face, it stole her breath away. Boys and then men had tried a lot of tricks over the years to get her attention, hoping to marry into the royal family, but she’d always seen through them and been far from impressed. Yet Liam Hawke threw one careless grin her way, and she was practically putty in his hands. She held back a groan. This was not a good start to a new job....
“In the meantime,” she said, bringing her focus back to their conversation, “you want me to be happy in my work conditions on the chance I am actually good at the job.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Exactly. A good businessman keeps his options open, utilizes the resources available and moves on when it’s no longer effective or profitable.”
Meg yawned again. “I’d better feed Meg and get her down for a nap because I think Bonnie will be awake soon.”
She ran a fingertip across her daughter’s button nose. Her eyes were getting heavy, so Jenna began softly humming an old Larsland lullaby that Meg liked.
Liam dug his hands into his pockets and turned to the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Without losing her place in the song or lifting her head, Jenna nodded. But once he was gone, she moved to the window so she could watch her new employer as he strode from the house toward the flower farm around back. And the question played over and over in her mind—why did she have to find this man, of all men, so appealing?
Three
Liam clawed his way through the nightmare. A child was crying, desperate, inconsolable, wanting—no needing—him to do something. He woke with a start, wrenching himself from the grip of the dream. Except the crying didn’t stop. For a moment he didn’t understand...and then it all came back.
Bonnie. His daughter was crying.
He stumbled out of bed, rubbing his face with one hand and checking he was wearing pajama bottoms with the other. Sharing night feeds with a woman meant making sure he was dressed twenty-four hours a day. He flicked on a light and saw the time—two a.m.—as he headed down the hall.
Just before he stepped into Bonnie’s nursery, a light came on in the room and he saw Jenna, eyes soft with recent sleep, hair messed from her pillow and a white cotton robe pulled tightly around her body. She reached down and lifted his daughter into her arms as she whispered soothing words. Liam’s heart caught in the middle of his throat, and for a long moment he couldn’t breathe. The image in the soft light of the lamp was like a master’s watercolor. The ethereal beauty of Jenna, her expression of love freely given to his daughter, and Bonnie’s complete trust in return, was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Jenna glanced over and gave him a sleepy smile as she soothed Bonnie, and he felt the air in the room change, felt his skin heat.
Bonnie’s crying eased a little and Jenna said over her head, “She’s hungry. Do you want to hold her while I make up a bottle?”
He cleared his throat and stepped closer. “Sure.”
Jenna’s fingers brushed the bare skin of his chest as she laid Bonnie in the crook of his elbow. The urge to hold Jenna’s hand there, against his skin, was overpowering. He stood stock-still, not trusting himself to move. One thing was apparent—pajama bottoms weren’t enough. For future feeds he’d have to minimize skin contact by making sure he also was wearing a shirt.
She gave Bonnie a little pat on the arm, then moved through the door and down the stairs. He followed, mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips under her thin, white robe, but he purposefully drew his attention back to where it should be—the baby in his arms.
Stroking his crying daughter’s arms in the same soothing motion Jenna had used, he followed Jenna into the kitchen and waited while she made up a bottle. She worked smoothly in his kitchen, as if she’d done this a hundred times before. Of course, she must have done exactly that for her own child. Had anyone else ever watched her and thought it was seductive? Her movements were simple, efficient, but with such natural grace it was almost as if she were dancing.
He was losing his focus again, damn it.
Was it the intimacy of the night that caused his reaction to his nanny? Normally the only women he saw at two o’clock in the morning—especially ones with sleep-tousled hair—were women he was involved with. Not that he often saw them here in his house. He preferred liaisons that didn’t have too much of an impact on his personal life or intrude into his personal space. Dylan had once pointed out that Liam’s philosophy was emotionally cold, but that had never bothered him—he wasn’t naïve enough to think the women he dated were looking for emotional fulfillment or promises of forever.
Besides, women weren’t interested in the real him, the man who was passionate about science and breeding new, unusual flowers, the man who had no time for the trappings of wealth beyond the security it could provide his family.
His oldest brother Adam had suggested that Liam had turned it into a self-fulfilling prophecy by choosing women he knew were attracted to him for his money or his looks, keeping things superficial and ending relationships before he allowed himself to be emotionally invested. Liam had ignored his brother—he was perfectly happy with things as they were. He’d never wake up to find he’d let his guard down and he’d fallen in love with someone who was using him for his wealth or had been merely entertaining herself with some twisted game the women he knew always seemed to be playing.
He leaned back against the counter and raised an impatient Bonnie to his shoulder. “Shh,” he whispered. “It won’t be long now.”
He wasn’t sure what game Bonnie’s mother had been playing. Her family was wealthy so she hadn’t needed his money, but the very fact that she hadn’t told him that she was pregnant showed she hadn’t been a woman he could have trusted.
“Okay, sweetheart,” Jenna said, turning her blue, blue gaze back to them. “Your bottle is ready. How about we go back to your lovely armchair to have it?”
She stroked her fingertips across Bonnie’s head as she passed on her way to the hallway, and suddenly—and against all his advice to himself—Liam was in the ridiculous position of being jealous of a baby.
* * *
Warm bottle in her hand, Jenna rubbed her scratchy eyes and walked down the second-story hallway. Even though it hadn’t been long since Meg had started sleeping through the night, she’d forgotten how demanding night feeds were.
As she reached Bonnie’s nursery, she paused and asked over her shoulder, “Would you like to feed her or shall I?”
Liam cleared his throat. “You do this one. I’m still watching your technique with these things.”
She nodded and settled into the armchair. She understood. Liam didn’t strike her as the jump-in-with-two-feet sort of man—he was a scientist. He’d want to gather all the information first so he’d be best placed to succeed when he did attempt something new. She’d felt his gaze on her in the kitchen as if he were trying to memorize the method of preparing his daughter’s bottle. Having the gorgeous Liam Hawke watch her every move was...unsettling, but obviously it would be part of the job as she taught him the skills to look after his baby and helped him bond with her. Surely she’d get used to it with time. A shiver ran up her spine, but she ignored it.