They turned left off the main hall. Kimber’s accommodations were at the very end, his bedroom at the end of the opposite hallway. Lyon’s room sat cattycorner to Landon’s bedroom, which was one of the reasons he’d purchased a high-tech video baby monitor. The gadget was top of the line, outfitted with infrared night vision and a room temperature indicator. One could never be too safe, and he wanted to make sure she’d be able to keep an eye on Lyon from anywhere in the house. Both eyes, technically. He knew from experience she’d need all the help watching Lyon she could get.
She took a look around her bedroom. He followed her scrutinizing gaze from the thick cream rug to the gold and green flowered bedding, to the striped curtains parted over a window view of the city, and finally to the attached bath with a fluffy robe hanging in welcome.
His housekeeper had stocked extra toiletries and left a vase of fresh flowers by the window as well as some women’s magazines. He hoped the setup didn’t make Kimber feel like she was staying in a hotel. Landon had ordered a basket of body wash and chocolates from a local boutique. It’d arrived yesterday. He’d agonized over choosing a scent, but the woman on the phone assured him cucumber mint was their best-selling product.
Kimber went to the bed and touched the basket, smiling over at him as she did. “Is this for me?”
No telling if she was impressed or being polite. “Yes.”
She flattened the plastic covering her gift and leaned in to study the contents. He felt a surge of something foreign wash through him. Doubt.
How… disconcerting. He frowned.
“Fair trade chocolate.” Her grin had widened, parting her red lips over straight, white teeth. Braces, remember? Worth it, he thought automatically. She tilted her head, which sent her fiery hair over one shoulder, and regarded him through eyes that complemented the colors in the room. “A girl could get used to this kind of treatment, you know.”
Okay. He was definitely attracted to her. On a basic, carnal level. Ask her to leave. This won’t end well. But he couldn’t. For one, Lyon needed a nanny and Landon needed to go to work.
The other reason was far more selfish. Far more discriminate. He was genuinely attracted to her. And damn if it didn’t feel a hundred times more amazing than he’d imagined it might.
His attraction to Lissa had been the real thing when he’d met her six years ago. But since their mutual agreement, the initial buzz had worn off. His attraction to her turned out to be more about sticking to their arrangement than a genuine reaction to the model. Everything about their relationship since then had been planned, expected. A duty.
The terms had been simple: sex, companionship, a partnership, designed to keep them both out of the messiness of entangled hearts. Until Lissa met Carson backstage at one of her lingerie shows. Then she’d tossed her and Landon’s arrangement into the incinerator and sent him back to square one.
But Kimber… While he wouldn’t act on the volatile mix of attraction and desire he felt for her now, she did fill a need in this pocket of his life. She’d agreed to one week. A week to watch over his nephew, live in his home. With the stress of Lissa’s adventure just now wearing off, the pressure of nailing the Windy City potato chips account, and the added challenge of having a six-year-old in tow, Landon considered that having her here was, in many ways, a gift to himself as well.
Selfish? Maybe. But it’d been a while since he’d been selfish. Eons. He’d respect her space. Keep his hands to himself. Keep his borderline-erotic thoughts and his heated gazes to a minimum. He’d be at work most of the time. It wasn’t as if he’d have to suffer under the scrutiny of those guileless eyes of hers for most of the day.
And since women were as unpredictable as lit bottle rockets, rarely firing in a straight, even line, he’d be smart to stay away. The women in his life veered and circled, then exploded too near for comfort.
“You should meet Lyon,” he said abruptly.
“Will I need an appointment to get in?” She toyed with the bow on the basket with fingernails coated in a sheen of pale polish. “Is there an elevator leading up to his floor?”
His lips twitched. She was sassy. Smart. Feisty.
Intriguing.
Forcing his mouth into a neutral line, he refused to give her the smile trying to come forth. Flirting with this woman would be all sorts of bad news. She was Angel’s friend. She was Lyon’s nanny. She’d be sharing his house for the remainder of the week.
He gave her a curt nod toward the door, and himself a final stern reminder to ignore the instant attraction. It was the only thing about this entire situation he couldn’t afford.