The Billionaire's Nanny. Melissa McClone
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then narrowed. He pressed his steepled hands against his lips.
Uh-oh. He didn’t seem to like her answer. “Remember, you wanted to know,” she reminded.
“I did.” He lowered his hands. “Are you as passionate about the children you care for as felines?”
“Yes.”
“Do you express your views with their parents as you have with me?”
Emma wasn’t about to lie. She raised her chin. “If warranted.”
“What is their response?”
“In one case, I was let go.”
“Fired for speaking your mind?”
“I wasn’t hired to spout my opinions,” she admitted. “But by that point, the only reason I hadn’t quit was the children. I was staying on for their sake.”
A closed-mouth smile curved his lips. “Lucky kids to have you on their side.”
He didn’t sound upset. That surprised her. “I do my best, but I expect kids to behave, so maybe they aren’t so lucky to have me.”
“What happens if they don’t behave?”
“Depends on the child. Some kids need to talk it through. Be heard. Others don’t understand why they act out.” Emma’s ability to read people had helped her survive in one foster home after another, but she couldn’t read Mr. Cole. A billionaire shouldn’t be interested in her job as a nanny. Maybe one of his colleagues needed to hire child care. “With certain children, more tangible consequences like a time-out or chores are necessary. But I prefer using kindness and a loving hand if at all possible.”
“What will my consequence be?”
“Yours?”
“If I misbehave.”
Playful images of how he might misbehave flitted through her mind. Unwelcome ones. Ones that made her cheeks burn. “I...I’m your personal assistant. Not your nanny.”
“If you were my nanny.”
Emma would have to resign due to naughty thoughts. Wrong answer. She cupped the side of her neck with her palm, shaken by her reaction to the sudden change in him. Her skin didn’t feel warm to the touch. Maybe only her cheeks were red. But a blush was too much. “Mr. Cole—”
“AJ.” His smile, full of sex appeal and devilish charm, stole her breath. “We’re going to be working together for the next five days. Putting on a birthday party and surrounded by my family. Humor me, Emma.”
Her name rolled off his tongue and heated her insides twenty degrees. A flame reignited deep within her. So not good. And 100 percent unacceptable.
Get a grip. AJ wasn’t flirting. A rich, gorgeous man would never be attracted to a simple, unremarkable nanny. More likely he was testing her. Libby had mentioned something about AJ’s tests.
A test Emma could handle. She’d been a good student, mostly As, a few Bs. But she’d grown up since then. Emma straightened, book-on-top-of-her-head posture. She had no doubt she would pass this test with an A-plus no matter what Attila threw at her.
She looked across the table at him. Awareness of the man’s good looks and power shivered through her. At least she hoped she would pass his test.
What was Emma thinking? Of course she would pass any test her new boss threw at her. She stared at AJ, seated across from her, noting the devilish smile on his face.
“What would I do if you misbehaved?” She tilted her head to the right and made a stern face, something she rarely used with children. “I’d start by talking to you.”
“I’m not a big talker.” His mouth quirked, a sexy slant of his lips she tried to ignore. “I prefer action to words.”
Libby hadn’t called her boss a player, but implied as much. Emma could tell he knew the rules of the game and how to break them. Especially when the game was business. “I imagine you know exactly when you’re behaving badly.”
“That’s part of the fun.”
No doubt. “A time-out wouldn’t work with you.”
“I’d only get into more trouble if I had time to think.”
Or he might come up with a way to make another few million dollars. “Then I would do something else.”
He leaned forward, a movement full of swagger though he was sitting. “What?”
Emma took her time answering. She studied his hair, lowered her gaze to his intensely focused eyes, followed his straight nose to those sensual lips, then dropped to his strong jaw and square chin. Handsome, yes, but calculating. She made her own assessment of what might mean the most to him. “I’d take away your electronics.”
His model-worthy jaw dropped. “What?”
A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her answer surprised him. Good. “I’d confiscate your cell phone, computer, tablet. That might teach you a lesson.”
“Sounds a bit harsh.”
“Not if it’s for your own good.”
He rubbed his chin. “Then I’d better behave.”
“Yes, you should.” His bank account didn’t impress Emma. He didn’t, either. Not much anyway. “Don’t make me go all Supernanny or Nanny McPhee on you.”
The plane lurched.
Here we go. Emma gripped the seat arms and glanced out the window. A small single-propeller aircraft taxied in front of them.
“Please prepare for takeoff,” a male voice announced from overhead speakers.
Must be the pilot. Her gaze traveled to AJ. He looked blurry. The rest of the cabin, too. She adjusted her glasses, blinked, but her vision remained fuzzy, the air surrounding her hazy and white.
“Emma?”
She squinted, trying to bring his face and body into focus. “Yes.”
“You’re pale. Libby told me you don’t like flying.”
Emma didn’t blame her friend for warning her boss. “It’s the moment the wheels lift off that gets to me the most, but I should be okay.”
Please let me be okay. The engines revved, louder and louder.
No big deal. She dug her fingers into the butter-soft leather. Pressed her feet against the floor. Leaned her head against the seat.
No big deal. The jet bolted forward, as if released from a slingshot, accelerating down the runway. Dread crept through her stomach and hardened into stone, an uncomfortable heaviness settling in. She burned again, her skin, her insides, immune to the blasts of cool air.
No big deal. Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Darkness didn’t keep the sickening, familiar sensation of weightlessness at bay. The moment the wheels lifted, her stomach plummeted to her toes, then boomeranged to her throat.
Memories bombarded her. The choking smell of smoke. The scorching heat of the flames. The terrifying screams of her brother.
Nausea rose inside her like the jet climbing in the sky. She opened her eyes. “Oh, no.”
AJ’s hands rested on his thighs. “What?”
Emma’s stomach constricted. Her mouth watered. She reached into the seat pocket. “I’m going to be sick.”
* * *
Damn. AJ stared at Emma, who held on to a white barf bag as if it were the Holy Grail. He pushed himself forward in his seat, difficult