Letter to Reader Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN EPILOGUE Copyright
Dear Reader,
Let’s all join together and send special birthday greetings to Harlequin Presents®—twenty-five years of publishing the very best of romance fiction, enjoyed by millions worldwide, is no small achievement!
For the past ten years, I’ve been proud to be a contributing author to this mega-successful series and, because storytelling is as old as the human race, my books give me the very special feeling that I’m connecting with unknown yet valued friends throughout the world. This is a wonderful bond and I hope you’ll continue to enjoy the Presents® series through the next quarter century!
Diana Hamilton
P.S. The Millionaire’s Baby is part of a compelling new series, NANNY WANTED!, in which some of our most popular authors create nannies whose talents extend way beyond taking care of the kids!
The Millionaire’s Baby
Diana Hamilton
CHAPTER ONE
CAROLINE FARR was afraid she’d made a terrible mistake.
As the taxi wove through the snarl of traffic on Prince Albert Road she was convinced of it. So utterly convinced she had to grit her teeth in order to stop herself from telling the driver to stop and allow her to walk off her agitation in the sun-drenched greenness of London’s Regent’s Park.
It was so, so tempting...Mary Greaves, her business partner, could phone through and apologise, explain to the Helliars that, unfortunately, Ms Farr was unable to attend the interview for the position of nanny to their baby daughter, suggest another applicant, another interview.
But she wasn’t that weak! Mercifully, the unaccustomed feeling of panic began to subside as the taxi made a left turn into one of the leafy Georgian streets that abounded in this area. She wasn’t going to back down at the last moment and prove Mary right It wasn’t in her nature to back away from her own decisions.
Mary had said, ‘Caro! Have you gone mad? You can’t do it! You’re not trained—you know nothing about caring for children! That’s my area of expertise, not yours. Think of the agency’s reputation!’
And for the first time ever she had pulled rank and reminded her partner of just who had built up that enviable reputation, adding, ‘I’ve worked all hours on the administration side for two whole years. Now I fancy some hands-on experience. Humour me, Mary!’ Her smile when she’d wanted to appear relaxed had been big and wide and winning. ‘Looking after a child can’t be all that difficult. Millions of women do it all the time—and if I get out of my depth I promise I’ll let you know. The Grandes Familles Agency is as much my baby as yours; I won’t do a thing to harm our good reputation.’
The bit about fancying some hands-on experience had been a downright lie, plucked out of the air as an excuse for what had to appear as sheer craziness, a totally uncharacteristic deviation from her normal level-headed approach to her work at the agency.
But was it so crazy to want revenge?
She’d been in the main office when Honor, their secretary, had shown Finn Helliar into the room Mary used for client interviews. The band that had tightened around her chest with the painful suddenness of a steel trap had kept her immobile until Honor had teetered back on her very high heels a few moments later, a pussy-cat smile on her pretty, pointed face.
Caroline hadn’t needed to ask who he was. She’d known. She had never met him but she knew all about him, had seen that photograph in the press a couple of years ago. Handsome as he had looked—his smile tender for the lovely new bride on his arm—the camera image hadn’t done him justice. In the flesh his impact was nothing short of stunning.
She’d asked instead, ‘Why is he here?’ and she’d thanked heaven her voice sounded normal, coolly interested and utterly professional.
‘Some hunk, huh?’ Honor had smoothed the fabric of her pale grey skirt over her hips. ‘He phoned first thing this morning before you arrived. It seems they flew in from Canada a couple of days ago and need a temporary nanny until they find a permanent home outside of London. Nice work for some lucky lady!’
It had been then, precisely then, that Caroline knew what she was going to do, and when Honor had mused, ‘I wonder what his wife’s like?’ she’d merely shaken her head and gone into her own office to wait until her partner had finished interviewing Finn Helliar.
She could have told her secretary exactly who his wife was, what she looked like, but had been afraid she wouldn’t be able to hide her anger and outrage if she did.
Now, as the taxi drew up in front of the hotel where the Helliars were staying, Caroline swiftly ran through a mental check-list.
A good nanny was quiet and subdued in her appearance.
Well, she had done her best in that respect.
The mandatory street-wear uniform of the Grandes Families nannies meant her slim body was successfully de-sexed by the severely plain, tailored dark grey linen suit, the desired touch of white at her throat given by the crisply starched cotton shirt she wore beneath it, her jaw-length bob of glossy, dark auburn hair hidden beneath the grey cloche-style hat, her five feet six inches played down by her sensible flat-heeled shoes.
A good nanny had received rigorous training and carried impeccable references. Caroline Farr had the benefit of neither and as soon as
