“Oh, Mr. Dean.” She crossed her arms over her bra.
He looked up, his eyes widening. “You were late—”
“I was covered in spit-up,” she returned, frozen in place.
His gaze swept up the curve of her arm, her shoulder, her neck, making her skin warm. She wasn’t prepared for the way his jaw clenched. Or the “My apologies,” he mumbled. When his gaze burned into hers, there was no air in her lungs. He stared at her, his hand gripping the railing of the crib, until she wasn’t sure she’d stay upright. “I’ll wait in my office,” his growl was all the more startling, echoing down the hall as he left the room.
She slumped into the wall, sucking in air, staring at the open door. What was that? Was he angry? His time was precious, but surely he’d understand why she was late.
But standing there worrying over his reaction would only make her later.
She closed the door and changed quickly, slipping into a pink blouse and tucking it into the waist of her gray slacks. With a quick glance at a sleeping Oscar, she picked up the dossiers and the baby monitor and headed to his office. Analyzing his reaction was a bad idea. So was thinking about the way his gaze heated the skin of her neck and shoulder. To get worked up over a simple look was stupid. But it had been a long time since she’d been on the receiving end of such obvious masculine appreciation. He saw her—and possibly liked it.
Or, more likely, she was seeing what she wanted to see. As if, Jessa. Someone like Finnegan Dean would never be interested in her.
She shook off her thoughts as she knocked on his office door.
“Come in,” he called.
She crossed the room and sat in the chair opposite his desk, immediately jumping into business. “These are the five candidates I’ve determined best meet the criteria you provided.”
“I apologize for intruding, Jessa.” He paused. “I’ll knock from now on. It’s your room.”
She nodded, avoiding his gaze. Sweeping the incident aside was the best idea. She could pretend he hadn’t caught her in her plain white bra. Not that wearing something more feminine or sexy would have made it better. She swallowed, sliding the packets across his desk. “Here are the files. I thought you might review them and give me your thoughts. That way I can begin interviewing next Friday.”
“Next Friday?” He seemed surprised.
“You gave me a deadline,” she reminded him. “I meet my deadlines.”
He sat back in his chair, ran a hand over his face, and sighed. “It will wait until after we get back.”
She let out her breath, slowly. “Get back?”
“I need to make a trip, four or five days. You and Oscar are coming with me.” He glanced at her, then back at the files she’d placed on his desk. “I know it’s short notice, but it’s necessary.”
She processed this. “I need to check in on Nate first. He struggles with his math work. Can Oscar and I—”
“Yes, go,” his answer was short.
It would do her a world of good. Being so wrapped up in Oscar and Finnegan Dean was likely playing a part in her nocturnal fantasies. She needed fresh air, familiar faces, and adult conversation that wasn’t centered around Oscar—as precious as he was. At the moment, the only things she had to do were care for Oscar and hunt for the perfect nanny. Which brought her back to the matter at hand. “Would you prefer to review these later?” she asked.
“I’ve cleared my schedule for the day, specifically for this purpose. Can you summarize their strengths and weaknesses?”
She nodded, having anticipated as much. “My pleasure.”
“And the trip?” he asked. “Will it interfere with any plans?”
As long as it wasn’t too far away. Her brothers seemed to be doing fine without her, but she still worried over them—something that irritated her brothers, especially Harry. She sighed. Maybe a trip is a good idea. “No. A trip might be nice.”
His smile was breathtaking.
She sat, stunned. It was like she’d made his day, when it was the other way around. Her heart was thumping like mad, the strangest, warmest pull flooding her insides.
“So, the candidates,” she said, clearing her throat.
He came around his desk and sat in the chair beside her, leaning close to read over her shoulder as she pointed out those things that had caught her attention. She tried not to get distracted by the tantalizing scent of his spicy aftershave or the way his shirt hugged the well-muscled contours of his upper arm. There was too much riding on this position. She could not afford to let him get to her.
She worked her way through the first three candidates before Oscar’s high-pitched cry sounded through the baby monitor. She smiled, checking her watch, and stood. “Would you mind giving me fifteen minutes? I’ll get him situated and return?” She offered him the dossier they were reviewing.