The Boss's Baby Affair Page 2

  Candace’s mouth set into a firm line as she eased the station wagon that had come with the job in between the sleek sports car and a silver Daimler. So Nick Valentine was home. About time. The electronically activated garage door lowered with a hum behind her. But her ire toward her neglectful employer didn’t extend to his daughter. Opening the rear door, Candace crooned to the baby as she lifted her out of the car seat and she was rewarded with a happy smile.

  Jennie was the sweetest baby in the world. In her job as a pediatric surgery nurse, Candace had seen many, but this one was special.

  Her face softened and she tightened her arms. Jennie made a snuffling sound of contentment against her T-shirt and Candace’s heart melted like honey in summer sunshine. Poor little motherless thing. The first time she’d held the baby she’d felt the inexplicable bond. This wasn’t her child, she had to remind herself—Jennie belonged to someone else. Yet she couldn’t help being smitten…and more than a little envious of the gift that Nick Valentine treated with such cavalier disregard.

  Pushing the door leading into the house open, Candace tiptoed into the glossy marble-and-silver perfection of the foyer that made her feel like she’d stumbled into the pages of an architectural design magazine every time she entered the house. No plants softened the hard edges; no flowers spilling out of vases broke the palette of black, silver, icy lemon and white.

  The baby in her arms was the only real thing there.

  She glanced through to the black-and-chrome kitchen. It was empty. Across the lobby she could hear the blare of the television. Her pulse quickened and her stomach tied itself up in knots. She resisted the urge to flee upstairs. No point putting this meeting off. The sooner she met her boss the better.

  Hoisting Jennie higher into her arms, she halted in the doorway to the sitting room. A tremor of shock quaked through her.

  Nick Valentine lay sprawled across a white leather sofa in front of a wide-screen television. His dark-as-midnight hair was rumpled as though he’d raked his fingers through the strands. His suit jacket had been abandoned over the back of the couch and the top two buttons of his striped business shirt had been undone to reveal a patch of bare, tanned skin. He was so much more than she’d bargained for—Candace hadn’t expected his sheer physical presence.

  Thankfully, the man was asleep.

  Candace swallowed. Hurriedly, she forced her delinquent gaze away. A fluffy omelet lay untouched on a tray next to his highly shined shoes, which were propped up on the outsize glass cube serving as a coffee table. A half-empty tumbler of amber liquid sat beside him on the couch.

  What had she expected?

  A father who couldn’t wait to see his baby? Nick Valentine was a businessman—first and always. Jilly Valentine had told her that. Her gaze flicked to the mirror table cube. The kind of man who drank Scotch rather than eating a carefully prepared meal, and fell asleep in front of a sports channel rather than seeking out his daughter after a month’s absence.

  The hope that perhaps she’d misjudged the man flickered out. Turning away, Candace hugged Jennie closer, suddenly desperate to get away from the baby’s uncaring father.

  Upstairs it was time to bathe the baby. Afterward, with Jennie changed and ready for bed, Candace headed for the fridge set under the counter in the corner of the nursery where the bottles she’d sterilized earlier waited. In fact, every modern convenience a baby could possibly need was at Candace’s fingertips.

  There were certainly uses for Nick Valentine’s millions. But what did they help a baby whose father showed so little interest in her?

  Candace grimaced on discovering that the formula was finished and she’d forgotten to bring another container up. Now she’d have to go fetch it from the well-stocked pantry in the kitchen downstairs.

  Putting Jennie in the crib, she shut her ears to the wails of complaint as she made for the door. “I’ll only be a moment, Jennie.”

  A profound sense of disorientation shook Nick.

  The bright screen flickering out into the darkness confused him, and he blinked to escape the drowsiness that pressed down on him like smog.

  Jennie.

  Guilt knifed him. The hectic rush of the past few weeks was no excuse for his reluctance to see the baby. If he’d stayed away much longer, she wouldn’t have recognized him.

  Nick staggered to his feet. This time the stairs seemed to take forever to climb. And this time the nursery door was firmly closed—not open as he’d left it earlier. Relief flooded him. Jennie might already be sleeping, then he’d be off the hook.

  He advanced into the nursery.

  A snuffling noise told him the baby was still awake. Swallowing, he took another step. A pool of muted light surrounded the crib where Jennie lay. A quick glance around revealed that the party of teddy bears had been put away…and the rocker that Jilly had insisted on ordering for the nursery was empty. Jennie was alone.

  Where the hell was that fancy nurse his sister had raved about?

  Three strides took him to the side of the crib.

  Once there, he hesitated, fighting his reluctance to pick up the baby. At last he managed to master the fears little Jennie would never know about.

  “Hello, Jennie.”

  The baby fell silent. Her head turned, and wide-spaced eyes gazed up at him. Their color had lightened from the navy blue they’d been the last time he’d seen her. Jilly’s eyes had been sapphire blue while his own were a much darker indigo shade. Neither hue was apparent in the cloudy gray depths of Jennie’s eyes.

  The unspoken dread deepened.

  There was a moment of stillness when neither of them moved as they examined each other. Then Jennie gave a coo and stretched out a hand. Nick stilled. What did the past matter? This was a baby…innocent of it all.

  He touched her hand with one finger.

  Jennie’s hand clutched his forefinger. They gazed at each other. Nick held his breath. The silence in the nursery was absolute, the moment powerful and intense.

  He cleared his throat, told himself he was being fanciful. Yet something had changed—even as Jennie’s fingers wrapped more tightly around his.

  It was too much. And too soon. Nick gently shook the baby’s fingers loose and turned blindly for the door, head down, desperate to escape, his hand groping for the door handle.

  Before he’d found it, the door swung open.

  Nick caught sight of a blur of movement and the next instant a hard object thudded against the side of his head.

  “Ow! What the—?”

  He glared down into the most angelic face he’d ever seen. Wide-spaced silver-gray eyes, an upturned nose, a sweetly curved pink mouth and cascading golden curls.

  Nick was in no mood to be converted.

  Yet the sudden pull of attraction unsettled him. Fingering the tender spot above his ear, he straightened to his full height, and snarled. “Do you always rush in without looking where you’re going?”

  Candace stared up in horror at the man blocking her way to the nursery.

  Nick Valentine.

  She must’ve said it out loud, because his glare intensified. “Who else were you expecting?”

  “Uh…” She scanned the hard features. The strong, square jaw. The bladed nose, and an ancient scar that cut through one black eyebrow, giving him a dangerous air. Eyes so dark a blue as to appear black. He was much bigger than newspaper photos had suggested, at least six foot three.

  Awake and up close, the handsome features were even more forbidding—not helped by that piratical scar and the almost-black eyes. Her heartbeat grew faster.

  “I thought you were still downstairs, sleeping.” Damn. Damn. Damn. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m going to have a lump like an egg,” he accused, rubbing his head.

  She stared at his fingers, cursing herself for being in such a hurry. “We should get some ice on it.”

  “Get some ice on it? That’s all you’re going to say about assaulting me?”

  He was furious. H
er pounding heart sank into the comfortable Ugg boots she’d taken to wearing inside to protect her feet from the acres of shiny marble. Her first meeting with her new boss couldn’t have gone any worse.

  Candace became conscious of how close he was standing. The warm, tangy scent of him swirled around her. “It was an accident,” she protested halfheartedly. The force of the contact had jarred her elbow. It must hurt him like blazes. She started to apologize again.

  “You need to watch where you’re going,” he said.

  The unfairness of the accusation caused her to flush. “You ran into me,” she defended herself.

  His fingers probed along his hairline above his ear. “What the hell was the weapon?”

  “A tin of formula.”

  The other hand released her arm, and his gaze followed hers to the floor. “A tin of baby formula?”

  The disbelief in his voice compounded the realization that she’d hurt her boss, and her knees went weak. Was he going to think she was totally incompetent?

  She sagged against him and mumbled, “I’m truly sorry.”

  Thankfully, this time he didn’t say anything.

  And this close to him it was even more difficult to think clearly. Nick’s body was taut and unexpectedly muscled under the crumpled, striped business shirt, and much warmer than she’d expected. Much firmer, too. It wasn’t the body of a man who sat behind a desk all day.

  What was she doing thinking about Nick Valentine’s taut and admittedly well-honed body? It struck her that she wasn’t giving him a very good impression of her professionalism. Candace jerked upright as a quiver of fear feathered across her heart. If Nick Valentine doubted her ability to look after his daughter, he’d dismiss her without a second thought.

  She searched for something to restore normality and asked a little breathlessly, “What did you come upstairs for?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he studied her. Candace shifted nervously. In the dimness of the doorway she couldn’t clearly make out his expression. Of course, every emotion on her face would be visible to him under the overhead light. Could he see her apprehension? Was he really going to fire her for her clumsiness?

  “You’re Candace.”

  She flinched, and waited a heartbeat. Yet there was no dawning recognition in the narrowed gaze.

  “Yes, I’m Candace,” she conceded at last. “And you’re Nick Valentine.”

  He inclined his head. “You have the advantage on me. I don’t know your last name.”

  “Morrison.” She gave it with reluctance, tensing as she waited warily for his reaction.

  Nothing changed in the enigmatic navy-blue eyes. Her name meant nothing to him. Only by sheer willpower did she prevent herself from closing her eyes in relief. The longer he remained in ignorance, the better for her. Candace suppressed the notion that he deserved to know, then dismissed the momentary scruple and told herself he wouldn’t care. If he’d been the kind of man to care, everything would’ve played out differently.

  Even as she grappled with what to do next, Jennie let out a howl of protest in the room behind them.

  Two

  Candace could’ve kissed the baby for the timely distraction.

  Nick spun around and hurried into the nursery, and she followed quickly in his wake.

  He peered into the crib. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s tired and she wants her bottle.” Candace scooped the baby into her arms and handed her to Nick. He hesitated.

  “Hold her while I get the bottle ready,” she said hurriedly. “Otherwise, she’s going to howl the place down.”

  On cue, Jennie’s protests grew louder. Nick clumsily reached for the baby. Candace hovered, worried that he might drop her. He made some grunting noises, apparently intended to comfort the baby, but they only made Jennie scream more loudly.

  “If you hold her a little more firmly, she’d settle.”

  Watching him, Candace was visited by the insane notion that Nick had never held the baby before. It wasn’t possible. Yet he didn’t appear familiar with the baby at all.

  Her heart ached for Jennie. Poor motherless tyke. Nick was an ambitious businessman who spent more time chasing deals than with his child. Of course, having a full-time nanny made it all too easy for Nick to avoid his parenting responsibilities.

  Candace wasn’t ready to analyze the surge of emotions that flooded her. Instead, she grabbed his wrist. “Put one hand here…” she placed it behind Jennie’s bottom “…and the other here.”

  “She’s my daughter. I know how to hold her.”

  Who was he trying to fool? Yet the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips drew her attention back to Nick, making Candace aware that her hand still gripped his wrist.

  She released him as if she’d been scorched and stepped back, out of his force field, and ordered, “Walk with her.”

  He gave her a brooding look, then complied.

  Jennie’s bitter complaints forced Candace to hurriedly retrieve the tin of formula off the floor, open it and mix up a bottle. The howls turned to querulous grumbles that finally abated. Candace didn’t pause to see what had caused the change; she kept focused on what she was doing. By the time the bottle was ready, she turned to find Nick holding a bunch of keys in front of the baby, flaunting the famous Ferrari tag with its rearing horse.

  Jennie was enthralled. Her plump fingers clutched the keys as she tried to shove them into her mouth. Nick was looking confounded, struggling to keep the keys a safe distance from little madam’s face. Every time Jennie opened her mouth, he flinched. What was he expecting—the baby to devour the keys or holler with frustration?

  At the sight of Candace, relief darkened his indigo eyes to the shade of midnight. “Take her.”

  Normally she would’ve jumped at the invitation. She loved feeding the baby, and the last bottle of the day had become a special shared ritual for them both. The quiet of the nursery, the old-fashioned tick-tock of the antique grandfather clock in the corner, the warmth of the baby’s body cuddled up against her. Moments to treasure forever.

  Yet his terse command, the way he was ready to rid himself of the baby at the first opportunity, all caused the aching sympathy for the baby to deepen. He was Jennie’s father, after all.

  Even though he appeared to have forgotten all about her for the past month.

  Candace had to try to get through to him, show him what he was missing. No one knew better than she how it felt to yearn for a child…

  “Sit in the chair.”

  He gave her an oddly panic-stricken look. “The rocking chair?”

  From his expression she might as well have said electric chair. Not as comfortable with his daughter as he’d like her to believe.

  “Yes.” She nodded to underscore her answer. Grim humor sparked through her as the millionaire businessman dropped into the purple-painted rocker that was plumped up with lime cushions. If his board of directors could see him now…

  She suppressed her mirth and passed him the bottle. “Normally, you’d test the heat against the inside of your wrist but we won’t bother this time. I’ve already done it and Jennie has reached the end of her patience.”

  The baby was flapping her hands furiously.

  As Nick gave her the bottle, she latched desperately on to it, her hands clutched around his. The sight of her little plump fingers against Nick’s large, tanned hands caused a strange sensation to flutter in Candace’s chest.

  His head was bent, his focus on Jennie absolute. In that moment Candace felt unaccountably excluded. For weeks the baby had been her responsibility—these secret moments had been hers alone to treasure.

  Now he’d usurped them. She fought the riot of emotions that his presence here in the nursery aroused.

  Then Nick raised his head.

  The look on his face caused Candace’s breath to catch. It held an intensity—pain mingled with something more elusive. For weeks she’d been furious at Nick Valentine’s desertion of his daughter. She
’d never expected to feel empathy for him—to see the darkness of hell in his eyes.

  For the first time, she became aware of Nick Valentine as someone other than a busy, enterprising millionaire—someone other than Jennie’s father. He was a man. A man tormented by the loss of his wife…a man who had been saddled with the lonely responsibility of raising their daughter.

  A pang pierced her. It couldn’t be easy.

  The least she could do was grant him a few moments of privacy to deal with whatever demons plagued him. Candace edged to the door. “I’ll go and fetch some ice for your head.”

  The baby had fallen asleep.

  Nick studied the bundle in his arms. She radiated heat against his heart and the warmth of her body had spread through him, almost sending him to sleep, too. No doubt the long flight hadn’t helped.

  Shaking off the drowsiness that threatened to overtake him, Nick rose slowly to his feet. He carried the baby across to the crib and carefully settled her down before covering her with a fleecy blanket. To his relief, she didn’t stir. Yawning, Nick turned out the light and let himself out the nursery.

  The nanny—Candace, he amended—was coming toward him, her tread soundless on the thick pile of the pale carpet.

  “Sorry I took so long. I couldn’t find the ice trays.” She held up a plastic bag filled with ice.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Nick was so drugged with tiredness he’d forgotten that she’d gone to fetch ice. “Jennie’s sleeping,” he said to fill the sudden, awkward silence that stretched between them. “She went out like a light.”

  Candace smiled, and it transformed her face. The serious eyes sparkled with silver glints. “Yes, it’s amazing how quickly that happens.”

  “I’m about to do the same.” Resisting the urge to gawk like a teenager, Nick started to walk past her, but her hand came out and rested lightly on his shirtsleeve. “Let me ice your head.”

  A jolt of electricity buzzed under where her fingers rested. She was barely touching him. Gazing down at her, he found himself falling into wide, gray eyes as clear as a mountain lake. Nick shook his head roughly to rid himself of the illusion.