Billionaire Needs Nanny

It was clear he had absolutely no idea how gorgeous he was when he did that. I cleared my throat. "I usually find some common ground with the child and go from there. Most of them just want to be heard, want extra attention, or have been a bit spoiled and need to have their limits laid out for them. When they see that someone understands them, then they go right back to being their amazing selves."

Christian pursed his lips as he looked back at my resume. “Hmm…”

I was caught between the uncomfortable feeling of wanting to climb over the desk and sit in his lap and the acute sensation he would rather not hire me even though he knew I would be great for the job.

I wished I could just come out and ask what the problem was, but I didn't want to make it weird.

He finally put the document down on his desk and glanced up at me. Once more, his eyes took me in like he was taking a mental picture of every inch of me.

He was making it so hard for me to focus.

"I would sometimes require you to work all week. I work till late at night and I need someone reliable for Annie in the evenings. Would that be a problem?”

"I don't mind putting in the extra hours."

“I might need you on some Saturdays as well."

"I can do that," I chimed in quickly.

“I live in the city for most of the week and only come back here on the weekends, which means you will be working most of the time at my place in the city. Are you all right with that arrangement?”

“No problem.”

I could tell he still wasn't completely sold on the idea of me as his daughter’s nanny, but I knew he was wrong. I would be great. Especially, if she was as difficult as he was trying not to show she was. It would be a challenge I would enjoy. Besides, the job had great pay and benefits. Not to mention the boss was so hot I could stare at him all day. What more could anyone ask for?

Stop that!

"Is there anything else I should know about the position?" I asked politely, so things wouldn't stall out.

"My daughter means the world to me," he said slowly. He leaned back in his seat and seemed to grow a bit tenser. "Annie's had a… well… hard time lately, so she can be difficult sometimes. I want to make sure that won't be an issue for you."

I shook my head. "Not at all. As I said before, I’ve worked with every range of child. From troubled to special needs. I don't have a problem with any of it. I have a lot of patience and some techniques to help keep them calm, distracted, or whatever it is that they need."

"You seem very sure of yourself," he commented, as that big beautiful hand came up and rubbed at his square jaw again.

I sat up a little taller. "I take pride in what I do. Taking care of kids gives me purpose and makes me happy. I’m good at it, Mr. West. I promise you won’t be disappointed if you hire me."

His eyes seemed to pry into my very soul as he picked up the sheet with all of my info on it and tucked it into a folder.

My heart sank. I knew he wasn't sold on me. I clutched my purse a little harder. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I had practically pleaded for this job.

Then he looked up at me with those incredible green eyes. They were clear. He had made a decision. "Call me Christian, and when can you start?"

I stared at him in surprise. Was he really asking me to work for him? His expression was so guarded and cold. I still couldn't tell what he really thought about me, but hey, at least he was giving me a chance.

I smiled at him. An unguarded, ecstatic smile.

Then for a fraction of a second, he seemed to soften. Then that shroud of mystery fell right back into place. He put the file away in a drawer.

I watched him lock it, then look at me with an expectant expression, before I realized I still hadn’t answered him. "Oh! I can start tomorrow. I have a clear schedule."

"Good," he replied, as he pushed back and stood up. ""You can turn up at my apartment in the city. The address is on the last page of your contract, but before we finalize anything, or sign any paperwork you should meet Annie."

I stood up and shouldered my purse. "I'd love to."

“Have you had the chickenpox?”

I smiled. “Yes, I had it as a child. Life-long immunity.”

“Good. Annie is recovering from a bout of measles.”

“Poor kid.”

“Indeed.”

We walked through the vast house without speaking, our shoes echoing in the silent hallways.