the ground running when he took custody of the little girl. If the nanny didn’t show up soon, he’d be calling Ms. Davis and make Nanny Network news as the first dissatisfied client putting a big fat black mark on its pristine reputation.
The doorbell sounded and since he was already standing in the two-story foyer, it took only a second to answer. A young woman and small girl stood there—Libby and Morgan.
The taller blonde was slim, blue-eyed and pretty plain. Or maybe plainly pretty. On the few occasions they’d met, he’d never been able to decide. Her shiny hair turned under and barely touched the collar of the white cotton blouse peeking from the neck of her navy sweater. Dark denim jeans did remarkable things to her hips and legs, leaving no mixed feelings about his opinion of her figure, which was firmly in the approval column.
The little, tiny blonde who clutched an old, beat-up doll to her chest had curly hair and brown eyes she’d inherited from her father as well as the hint of an indentation in her determined chin. Both blondes stared expectantly up at him.
“Hi,” he held out his hand. “Jess Donnelly.”
“We’ve met.”
“Right. How long has it been?”
“Last Christmas. Almost a year ago.”
He remembered seeing her under the mistletoe at Ben and Charity’s holiday party. It would have been so easy to catch her there and claim the kiss he’d wanted since the first time he’d seen her, but he’d deliberately let the chance slip by. Instinct said she wasn’t the sort of woman he could easily walk away from and he didn’t get involved with any other kind.
“You look great.” An understatement.
Libby glanced at the little girl for a moment. “We missed you at the memorial service.”
“Yeah.” Pain sliced through him at the reminder that his friend was gone. “I was in Europe on business and there was a snow storm. The airport was closed for two days.”
“I see.”
He couldn’t tell from her carefully neutral tone whether she did or not. Either way there was nothing he could do about that. And what really mattered was his friend’s child.
He looked down at her. “Hello, Morgan. Do you remember me?”
Her blond curls bounced when she shook her head. “Not really.”
“That’s okay,” he said, guilt twisting in his gut. “Welcome to my home.”
“Nice place,” Libby said. Something flashed quickly through her eyes before she continued in a pleasant voice, “The security gates are pretty cool and a twenty-four hour guard who used his key card to escort us to the penthouse on the top floor of the building, in the private elevator, no less, is a nice touch.”
Did he hear sarcasm in her voice? Or was the edge simply a symptom of the awkward situation? Did it matter?
“I’m glad you like it.” He looked at the child. “What did you think, Morgan?”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, looking uncertain as she stepped closer and slid her small fingers into the woman’s hand.
“Are you going to invite us in?” Libby asked.
“Of course.” Mentally he smacked his forehead as he stepped back and opened the door wider.
“Don’t forget your suitcase, Morgan,” Libby cautioned.
The little girl nodded, then took the handle of a princess-pink weekend-size bag and rolled it onto the foyer’s beige marble floor where no princess suitcase had gone before. The woman did the same with a plain black bag. For the first time he thought about the little girl’s things. Surely she had more than would fit into the two pieces of luggage just wheeled in.
Major awkward silence followed that flurry of activity as the three of them stood there. He wasn’t sure what to do next and wished again that the nanny would show up and bail him out. In the meantime he figured that a tour was in order. It’s what he normally did with a first-time female guest. Although nothing about this situation could even remotely be described as normal. And this small female would be a permanent resident, a thought that registered pretty high on his uneasiness meter.
“How about I show you around?” he offered.
“We’d like that,” Libby answered, then looked down. “What do you say, Morgan? Would you like to see your new home?”
Still clutching Libby’s hand, the little girl nodded apprehensively. The solemn look on her pale face said she liked the idea about as much as a double helping of Brussels sprouts.
“Follow me.”
He led them into the living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the extensive outdoor area. Because the penthouse was on the top floor, he had a private pool and patio with barbecue. “If you want a view of the Las Vegas strip, you’ve come to the right place.”
“I’m sure Morgan is thrilled at the idea of looking at the adult entertainment capital of the world,” Libby said wryly.
“Good point.” Another mental forehead smack.
“Although she’ll like looking at the pretty lights. Right, sweetie?” When Libby smiled at the child the tenderness in her expression was almost palpable.
“It’s pretty high up,” the little girl answered cautiously, keeping her distance from the windows.
Libby looked around the room with its dark wood tables bearing traces of European design. “The couch and chairs are very beautiful, but they look like they’ll show every spot.”
“I haven’t found it to be a problem.” He glanced at the cream-colored furniture with the overstuffed brown pillows, then at the child, the first to set foot in his place. Life as he’d known it was about to change.
Jess led them through the kitchen that included a morning room with a door onto the terrace. The spacious formal dining area held a table for eight, matching buffet and china cabinet. They walked through the large family room, past the leather corner group and plasma TV. After showing them the living room and master bedroom, he walked to the other side of the condo and pointed out Morgan’s bedroom.
“You’ll have a king-size bed and your own bathroom. What do you think?” He glanced at the little girl who was looking back at him as if he’d just beheaded her favorite doll.
“It’s awfully big.” Her mouth trembled. “What if I get lost?”
Instantly Libby went down on one knee and pulled her into a hug. The gesture was completely natural and struck him as incredibly maternal and reassuring. The way a mother should be. The way his mother had been until everything changed.
Libby tucked the child’s hair behind her ears. “It’s scary, I know. Change always is. But in time you’ll get used to it and hardly remember anything else,” she explained.
“What if I wake up and it’s dark and I get scared?”
“I’m sure
