He smells like smoke, cotton, and sea salt, and his hands are warm and strong against my back.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
His gray-blue eyes darken as they meet mine, and I feel something electric pulse between us.
Something that has nothing to do with parakeet-induced chaos and everything to do with the way his gaze drops to my lips.
"PRETTY BIRD MAKES SOUP!FLOUR SOUP!"
The spell breaks.
Roarke steps back abruptly, his hands dropping from my waist like I've burned him.
"We should..."he clears his throat."The bird."
"Right.The bird."
But as we move into the flour-bomb disaster zone that used to be a galley, I can still feel the warmth of his large hands on my waist, and the way my skin practically hummed being pressed up against his.
I close my eyes and count to three, as if it will chase both away.
As if this job wasn’t already complicated enough…
5
A GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO AVOIDING YOUR NANNY
ROARKE
The next morning dawns clear and perfect over Monaco's harbor.
And I’m determined to forget yesterday's flour explosion, and more importantly, the way Mia Rossi felt pressed against me in that doorway.
Focus.Control.
Business launch in three weeks.
These are the mantras I repeat while reviewing charter booking requests in my office, trying to ignore the sounds of Isla and Mia practicing what appears to be a tap-dancing routine on the deck above my head.
"Claire," I call through the intercom, "please schedule meetings with the Santorini property manager and the Barcelona marina director for this afternoon.I want to finalize port arrangements before we?—"
My phone rings, the caller ID making me consider throwing it overboard.
But I answer it.Because when your 92-year-old grandmother calls, you pick up.
Or God help your soul.
"Bonjour, mon petit-fils!"Grand-mère Ada West’s voice fills the office with the force of a small hurricane.
“Hello, mémé.How are you?”
“Amazing…now that I’m talking to you.”She pauses, practically humming.“So, I hear you have finally hired a proper nanny for ma petite Isla!"
“Mémé, I'm in the middle of?—"
"Non, non, you listen to your grand-mère.Mrs.Dubois at the marina tells me this new girl is very pretty.Very spirited.She made poor Mr.Harrison slip on his own yacht trying to get a better look."
I massage my temples."The nanny is adequate for Isla's needs."
