I drew a steadying breath and climbed out of the vehicle. The daunting, large, brass-and-glass doors with a fancy handle loomed ahead.
“Miss,” greeted the doorman, tipping his hat, kind eyes peering out, salt-and-pepper hair at the edges. His name tag read McDaniels. “Can I help you?”
I hadn’t bargained on a gatekeeper preventing my mission from starting. Before I could open my mouth and beg for entry, another woman breezed past.
“I’m here to interview for the nanny position with Mr. West,” she chirped—all red hair, long legs, and polish. She came dressed to kill in a navy suit. But how did she ever expect to chase after a kid in those heels and that short skirt? Unless it was Griffin she intended to chase?
“Uh, me too,” I blurted, falling in line, tugging the hem of my purple sweater down over my hips. Nanny, huh? Sure, I’d go with that.
She tossed me a smirk over one perfect shoulder—dismissing me immediately as any threat of competition. Cute. I’d spent high school surviving mean-girl royalty. Even though I turned thirty last week, bring it on.
We rode the elevator in silence at first, a few floors of awkward and mirrors.
“I thought the agency only sent me,” she said coolly. Couldn’t be more than twenty-two if I had to guess.
I shrugged. “Guess he called a few. Hard to say after what Marie told me.” I dangled the bait.
“Marie?”
“Friend of mine. Worked for him last year. Said he’s a total slob—spent half her days cleaning up after him. Handsy, too. Said to avoid him after hours. And the kid? Total terror—throws things, screams, the works.”
I almost patted my back at the fear growing in her eyes.Quick thinking, Jessa.
By the thirtieth floor, the elevator doors slid open. A gray-haired man with glasses stepped in, and Little Miss Perfect stepped out with a sheepish grin and pressed the folder she’d been holding into my chest. “I think I’ve changed my mind about this job.”
Worked for me. Now I had ten floors left before I faced the billionaire who rocked my world one night and would most likely change it by the end of the day.
The older man got out on the next floor. I sighed back against the mirrored wall, getting closer to the top, nerves on overload.
I recalled the flirtations on the occasions when Griffin visited Holly Creek—his dimpled smiles as I served him, my harmless comments about his impeccable taste in suits. Each visit always left me wondering if he could ever be interested in me—the curvy small-town bartender.
Was I his type? I snorted. Obviously he’d go for thin, well-put together women, like the redhead who left the elevator. The ones who knew how to throw together the perfect outfit for special occasions, and the proper things to say to people, and definitely could keep a wealthy man’s ego boosted.
Ding.My heart jumped into my throat as the elevator doors slid open to the present, on the fortieth floor of West Tower. Glass and gold and rich wood gleamed in the foyer, as I’d expect from a penthouse. There were two doors on this floor, two entire homes for people richer than God.
I took a tentative step out, pulse racing, and almost turned right back around for the ride down. This was a mistake. I didn’t belong here. But then Griffin and Theo exited their place, not taking notice of me just yet. I had nowhere to hide.
“Dad, are you even going to make it to my game tonight?” Theo complained. One handle of his stuffed gym bag suddenly broke, scattering hockey equipment everywhere. He swore under his breath—such foul words for a boy his age—but Griffin didn’t notice. He had a phone wedged to his ear, sweats hanging low on his frame, hair disheveled.
His voice exploded, crouching to help Theo gather his gear. “The new nanny didn’t show, so I’ll be there after I take Theo to school—” Our eyes met, and the world stopped.
My throat dried up seeing him again, memories flooded of the wedding at Holly Creek. More specifically, after it, of his mouth on my nipples, his hands caressing my curves. The way he made me feel wanted and worshipped for one special night two months ago.
“Jessa?” he breathed, the phone clattering to the floor.
The billionaire, his son, and the impossible world I was stepping into—what was I thinking?
Maybe I wasn’t. I’d already fallen too hard to think at all.
Chapter Three
TEMPTATION
Griffin
The memoryof Jessa hit fast, burning like Macallan M—the kind of indulgence you know will ruin you the moment you start.
I had invited Temptation to a rented lake house and then acted surprised when she showed up. And by Temptation, I meant Jessa. For one summer night, she proved a pretty distraction from the stress of running West Games.
