arms. “That’s an awfully big bed for a little girl. Probably he’ll get you a smaller one, maybe with a trundle. That’s a bed that slides underneath and pulls out so if you’re afraid at night someone can stay in your room. A new bed means a bedspread and sheets. Maybe the princess ones you like. Then the walls might have to be painted to match. That would be your favorite color and would help you get used to a new place.”
“What’s your favorite color, Morgan?” Jess asked, struggling to find something to say. With the ladies he had no problem, but little girls were out of his league.
“Pink.” She met his gaze and her own was troubled. “Sometimes purple.”
“Lavender,” Libby clarified.
Neither was an earth tone as far as he knew, but no one would accuse him of being the interior design police. Among other things, he built hotels and exclusive resorts, then hired people to decorate them. Exclusively.
“We can talk about altering things,” he said. “But I think it might be best to hold off on any sweeping changes until getting some feedback from a child-care professional.”
“I’m a licensed preschool teacher, Mr. Donnelly. I’ve spent the last few years with kids of all different ages at Nooks and Nannies.” Her full lips compressed into a straight line. “And Morgan has been in my care for quite a few months. I think I’m eminently qualified to express an opinion on her new environment and would be happy to consult with you about what will help her adjust to her new and different surroundings.”
He studied the twin spots of color on her cheeks and the way her blue eyes darkened to navy with this show of spirit. She was standing up for the kid who wasn’t even hers and he wondered suddenly whether or not there was a man in her life. The two thoughts would have been contradictory except for his history.
After his dad died, his mother had elevated him to man-of-the-house status. It was the two of them against the world until she fell in love and remarried, at which time she couldn’t get rid of Jess fast enough. So he couldn’t help wondering if Libby had a boyfriend. If so, was she relieved to hand off this child so she could put the guy first? And he had no reason to care since she’d be gone in a few minutes. And where was the nanny he was paying for her expertise in regard to Morgan’s environment?
“I’m getting the distinct impression that you don’t like my place,” he said.
She stood to look at him, but kept a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “It’s spectacular and quite lovely. I’ve never been in a more beautiful home.”
“And yet you’re talking redecorating.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how big is it?”
“About sixty-five-hundred square feet, including the pool and patio,” he answered, unable to completely suppress the note of satisfaction. His mother’s main squeeze hadn’t been shy about expressing the opinion that Jess was a screwup who wouldn’t amount to anything. So sue him for taking pride in his spectacular success.
Libby absently nodded as she glanced around. “It’s very big and one doesn’t need to look far to realize it’s a very adult environment.”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“The decor is dark. Strategically lighted artwork hangs in nearly every room. There’s expensive glass and pricey figurines on flat surfaces and in cabinets. What if something gets broken because a child is high-spirited and energetic? Sticky hands and art projects aren’t compatible with light-colored fabric and expensive wood. How is a five-year-old supposed to feel comfortable here?”
“I’m almost six, Aunt Libby,” Morgan piped up.
“Yes, you are, sweetie, right after Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I forgot that you’re almost a grown-up.” A smile turned up the corners of her full mouth, then disappeared when she looked at him again.
“Is there a point to the running commentary?” he asked.
“I’d feel more comfortable if you seemed the slightest bit willing to compromise for Morgan’s sake.”
Jess rested his hands on his hips as he studied her. There was something in her voice and a look skipping across her face that made him think her critique of his habitat was more personal than professional. He hadn’t seen her often but their paths had crossed enough for him to know that she was smart, very smart. But he’d never seen this sassy side of her before and wondered if he’d done something to tick her off.
Regardless of her attitude, he would concede that she had a point. “Is it possible to cut me some slack? I wasn’t expecting to have a child dropped—” He glanced at Morgan and tempered his words. “This situation is not something I anticipated.”
“I understand.” For a split second profound sadness stood out in her eyes, reminding him that she’d also lost a friend.
“Look, Libby, let me rephrase. After consulting with Morgan, I will discuss kid-friendly changes to her environment with her nanny.” He looked at his watch again. “If she ever gets here.”
“If she—” Libby’s expression went from sad to surprised. “Did you talk to Ginger Davis?”
“Yes.”
“Personally?”
“I made initial contact. Then my representatives were in negotiations with her regarding the particulars,” he admitted.
“So you never actually spoke with her about the final arrangement?”
The final arrangement? Just like that he felt the need to defend himself. “I’m deeply involved in a massive resort project. My secretary and lawyer handled all the details.” The look in her eyes made him add, “Both are trusted professionals who have been on my payroll for a number of years. I have complete faith in their ability to handle my affairs.”
“So you staffed out the responsibility of child care?”
Her tone was neutral, the question more about information gathering to fully understand the situation. But again his defensive instincts kicked in. “I’ve done my homework regarding The Nanny Network and fulfilled my fiduciary responsibility as Morgan’s guardian. Elizabeth Bradford comes highly recommended and will take exemplary care of Morgan.”
“Elizabeth Bradford is the nanny?”
“Yes.” Something about the way she said it made him brace himself. “Why? Do you know her?”
“I do. And I’m quite sure that she’ll take very good care of Morgan.”
He detected a definite “gotcha” tone to her voice. “What’s going on?”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a joke unfolding at his expense. A surprise was coming and in his opinion that was never a good thing. “Know what?”
She tilted her chin up, just a bit defiantly. “Libby is a nickname for Elizabeth. It probably slipped your mind that my last name is Bradford. That makes me Elizabeth Bradford. Apparently you missed the part in the negotiations
