Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Billionaire′s Jet-Set Babies

Billionaire's Jet-Set Babies
Catherine Mann
While cleaning a jet for entrepreneur Seth Jansen, Alexa Randall finds his one-year-old twins!Seth needs a temporary nanny; Alexa needs time for a one-on-one business pitch. So she says yes to an intimate stay on a lush Florida island. The babies remind her of the family she once wanted.And the nights with Seth are…incomparable. This billionaire could be the man of her dreams…



He needed more time with her.
His mind filled with a vision of Alexa chasing his kids around, all wet from the tub. Warm memories pulled him in with a reminder of the family life he should be having right now and wasn’t because of his workload. Having Alexa here felt so right.
It was right.
And so he wasn’t sending her home in the morning. He not only needed her help with the children, he wanted her to stay for personal reasons. The explosive chemistry they’d just discovered didn’t come around often. Hell, he couldn’t remember when he’d ever burned to have a particular woman this much. So much the craving filled his mind as well as his body.
The extension of their trip presented the perfect opportunity to follow that attraction to its ultimate destination.
Landing her directly into his bed.
Dear Reader,
As an avid reader myself, I adore connected stories! When I’m intrigued by a secondary character in a novel, I’m ecstatic when that character gets his or her own happily-ever-after. It’s especially a thrill when readers write to me, asking about a potential book for one of my characters.
In this case, readers have been asking for Seth Jansen’s story since his extended family first appeared in one of my novels, Explosive Alliance, and then again in my early Desire novels Baby, I’m Yours and Under the Millionaire’s Influence. This book—Billionaire’s Jet Set Babies—can be read as a stand-alone. However, if you would like to find those earlier reads about Seth and his family, they have all been reissued in ebook form.
Thanks again to all of you who sent shout-outs for Seth Jansen’s story. I had a blast penning the long-awaited happily-ever-after for this jet-setting hero!
Cheers,
Catherine Mann
www.CatherineMann.com

About the Author
USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN is living out her own fairy-tale ending on a sunny Florida beach with her Prince Charming husband and their four children. With more than thirty-five books in print in more than twenty countries, she has also celebrated wins for both a RITA
Award and a Booksellers’ Best Award. Catherine enjoys chatting with readers online—thanks to the wonders of the wireless internet, which allows her to network with her laptop by the water! To learn more about her work, visit her website, www.catherinemann.com, or reach her by snail mail at PO Box 6065, Navarre, FL 32566, USA.
Billionaire’s
Jet-Set Babies


Catherine Mann





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Amelia Richard: a treasured reader, reviewer and
friend. Thank you for all you’ve done to help spread
the word about my stories. You’re awesome!

One
Alexa Randall had accumulated an eclectic boxful of lost and found items since opening her own cleaning company for charter jets. There were the standard smart phones, portfolios, tablets, even a Patek Philippe watch. She’d returned each to its owner.
Then there were the stray panties and men’s boxers, even the occasional sex toys from Mile High Club members. All of those items, she’d picked up with latex gloves and tossed in the trash.
But today marked a first find ever in the history of A-1 Aircraft Cleaning Services. Never before had she found a baby left on board—actually, two babies.
Her bucket of supplies dropped to the industrial blue carpet with a heavy thud that startled the sleeping pair. Yep, two infants, apparently twins with similar blond curly hair and cherub cheeks. About one year old, perhaps? A boy and a girl, it seemed, gauging from their pink and blue smocked outfits and gender-matched car seats.
Tasked to clean the jet alone, Alexa had no one to share her shock with. She flipped on another table lamp in the main compartment of the sleek private jet, the lighting in the hangar sketchy at best even at three in the afternoon.
Both kids were strapped into car seats resting on the leather sofa along the side of the plane, which was Seth Jansen’s personal aircraft. As in the Seth Jansen of Jansen Jets. The self-made billionaire who’d raked in a fortune inventing some must-have security device for airports to help combat possible terrorist attacks on planes during takeoffs and landings. She admired the man’s entrepreneurial spirit.
Landing his account would be her company’s big break. She needed this first cleaning of his aircraft to go off without a hitch.
Tiny fists waved for a second, slowing, lowering, until both babies began to settle back to sleep. Another huffy sigh shuddered through the girl before her breaths evened out. Her little arm landed on a piece of paper safety-pinned to the girl’s hem.
Narrowing her eyes, Alexa leaned forward and read:
Seth,
You always say you want more time with the twins, so here’s your chance. Sorry for the short notice, but a friend surprised me with a two-week spa retreat. Enjoy your “daddy time” with Olivia and Owen!
XOXO,
Pippa
Pippa?
Alexa straightened again, horrified. Really? Really!
Pippa Jansen, as in the ex-Mrs. Jansen, had dumped off her infants on their father’s jet. Unreal. Alexa stuffed her fists into the pockets of her navy chinos, standard uniform for A-1 cleaning staff along with a blue polo shirt bearing the company’s logo.
And who signed a note to their obviously estranged baby daddy with kisses and hugs? Alexa sank down into a fat chair across from the pint-size passengers. Bigger question of the day, who left babies unattended on an airplane?
A crappy parent, that’s who.
The rich and spoiled rotten, who played by their own rules, a sad reality she knew only too well from growing up in that world. People had told her how lucky she was as a kid—lucky to have a dedicated nanny that she spent more time with than she did with either of her parents.
The best thing that had ever happened to her? Her father bankrupted the family’s sportswear chain—once worth billions, now worth zip. That left Alexa the recipient of a trust fund from Grandma containing a couple of thousand dollars.
She’d used the money to buy a partnership in a cleaning service about to go under because the aging owner could no longer carry the workload on her own. Bethany—her new partner—had been grateful for Alexa’s energy and the second chance for A-1 Aircraft Cleaning Services to stay afloat. Using Alexa’s contacts from her family’s world of luxury and extravagance she had revitalized the struggling business. Alexa’s ex-husband, Travis, had been appalled by her new occupation and offered to help out financially so she wouldn’t have to work.
She would rather scrub toilets.
And the toilet on this particular Gulfstream III jet was very important to her. She had to land the Jansen Jet contract and hopefully this one-time stint would impress him enough to cinch the deal. Her business needed this account to survive, especially in today’s tough economy. If she failed, she could lose everything and A-1 might well face Chapter 11 bankruptcy. She’d hardly believed her luck when she’d been asked by another cleaning company to subcontract out on one of the Jansen Jets—this jet.
Now that she’d found these two babies, she was screwed. She swept particles of sand from the seat into her hand, eyed the fingerprints on the windows, could almost feel the grit rising from the carpet fiber. But she couldn’t just clean up, restock the Evian water and pretend these kids weren’t here. She needed to contact airport security, which was going to land Jansen’s ex-wife in hot water, possibly him as well. That would piss off Jansen. And the jet still wouldn’t be serviced. And then he would never consider her for the contract.
Frustration and a hefty dose of anger stung stronger than a bucket full of ammonia. Scratch cleaning detail for now, scratch cinching this deal that would finally take her company out of the red. She had to locate the twins’ father ASAP.
Alexa unclipped the cell phone from her waist and thumbed her directory to find the number for Jansen Jets, which she happened to have since she’d been trying to get through to the guy for a month. She’d never made it further than his secretary, who’d agreed to pass along Alexa’s business prospectus.
She eyed the sleeping babies. Maybe some good could come from this mess after all.
Today, she would finally have the chance to talk to the boss, just not how she’d planned and not in a way that would put him in a receptive mood …
The phone stopped ringing as someone picked up.
“Jansen Jets, please hold.” As quickly as the thick female Southern drawl answered, the line clicked and Muzak filled the air waves with soulless contemporary tunes.
A squawk from one of the car seats drew her attention. She looked up fast to see Olivia wriggling in her seat, kicking free a Winnie the Pooh blanket. The little girl spit out her Piglet pacifier and whimpered, getting louder until her brother scrunched up his face, blinking awake and none too happy. His Eeyore pacifier dangled from a clip attached to his blue sailor outfit.
Two pairs of periwinkle-blue eyes stared at her, button noses crinkled. Owen’s eyes filled with tears. Olivia’s bottom lip thrust outward again.
Tucking the Muzak-humming phone under her chin, Alexa hefted the iconic Burberry plaid diaper bag off the floor.
“Hey there, little ones,” she said in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone. She’d spent so little time around babies she could only hope she pegged it right. “I know, I know, sweetie, I’m a stranger, but I’m all you’ve got right now.”
And how crummy was that? She stifled another spurt of anger at the faceless Pippa who’d dropped her children off like luggage. When had the spa-hopping mama expected their father to locate them?
“I’m assuming you’re Olivia.” Alexa tickled the bare foot of the girl wearing a pink smocked dress.
Olivia giggled, and Alexa pulled the pink lace bootie from the baby’s mouth. Olivia thrust out her bottom lip—until Alexa unhooked a teething ring from the diaper bag and passed it over to the chubby-cheeked girl.
“And you must be Owen.” She tweaked his blue tennis shoe—still on his foot as opposed to his sister who was ditching her other booty across the aisle with the arm of a major league pitcher. “Any idea where your daddy is? Or how much longer he’ll be?”
She’d been told by security she had about a half hour to service the inside of the jet in order to be out before Mr. Jansen arrived. As much as she would have liked to meet him, it was considered poor form for the cleaning staff to still be on hand. She’d expected her work and a business card left on the silver drink tray to speak for itself.
So much for her well laid plans.
She scooped up a baby blanket from the floor, folded it neatly and placed it on the couch. She smoothed back Owen’s sweaty curls. Going quiet, he stared back at her just as the on hold Muzak cued up “Sweet Caroline”—the fourth song so far. Apparently she’d been relegated to call waiting purgatory.
How long until the kids got hungry? She peeked into the diaper bag for supplies. Maybe she would luck out and find more contact info along the way. Sippy cups of juice, powdered formula, jars of food and diapers, diapers, diapers …
The clank of feet on the stairway outside yanked her upright. She dropped the diaper bag and spun around fast, just as a man filled the open hatch. A tall and broad-shouldered man.
He stood with the sun backlighting him, casting his face in mysterious shadows.
Alexa stepped in front of the babies instinctively, protectively. “Good afternoon. What can I do for you?”
Silently he stepped deeper into the craft until overhead lights splashed over his face and she recognized him from her internet searches. Seth Jansen, founder and CEO of Jansen Jets.
Relief made her knees wobbly. She’d been saved from a tough decision by Jansen’s early arrival. And, wow, did the guy ever know how to make an entrance.
From press shots she’d seen he was good-looking, with a kind of matured Abercrombie & Fitch beach hunk appeal. But no amount of Google Images could capture the impact of this tremendously attractive self-made billionaire in person.
Six foot three or four, he filled the charter jet with raw muscled man. He wasn’t some pale pencil pusher. He was more the size of a keen-eyed lumberjack, in a suit. An expensive, tailored suit.
The previously spacious cabin now felt tight. Intimate.
His sandy-colored hair—thick without being shaggy—sported sun-kissed streaks of lighter blond, the kind that came naturally from being outside rather than sitting in a salon chair. His tan and toned body gave further testimony to that. No raccoon rings around the eyes from tanning bed glasses. The scent of crisp air clung to him, so different from the boardroom aftershaves of her father and her ex. She scrunched her nose at even the memory of cloying cologne and cigars.
Even his eyes spoke of the outdoors. They were the same vibrant green she’d once seen in the waters off the Caribbean coast of St. Maarten, the sort of sparkling green that made you want to dive right into their cool depths. She turned shivery all over just thinking about taking a swim in those pristine waters.
She seriously needed to lighten up on the cleaning supply fumes. How unprofessional to stand here and gawk like a sex-starved divorcée—which she was.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jansen. I’m Alexa Randall with A-1 Aircraft Cleaning Services.”
He shrugged out of his suit jacket, gray pinstripe and almost certainly an Ermenegildo Zegna, a brand known for its no-nonsense look. Expensive. Not surprising.
His open shirt collar, with his burgundy tie loosened did surprise her, however. Overall, she got the impression of an Olympic swimmer confined in an Italian suit.
“Right.” He checked his watch—the only non-GQ item on him. He wore what appeared to be a top-of-the-line diver’s timepiece. “I’m early, I know, but I need to leave right away so if you could speed this up, I would appreciate it.”
Jansen charged by, not even hesitating as he passed the two tykes. His tykes.
She cleared her throat. “You have a welcoming crew waiting for you.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken.” He stowed his briefcase, his words clipped. “I’m flying solo today.”
She held up Pippa’s letter. “It appears, Mr. Jansen, your flight plans have changed.”
Seth Jansen stopped dead in his tracks. He looked back over his shoulder at Alexa Randall, the owner of a new, small company that had been trying to get his attention for at least a month. Yeah, he knew who the drop-dead gorgeous blonde was. But he didn’t have time to listen to her make a pitch he already knew would be rejected.
While he appreciated persistence as a business professional himself, he did not like gimmicks. “Let’s move along to the point, please.”
He had less than twenty minutes to get his Gulfstream III into the air and on its way from Charleston, South Carolina, to St. Augustine, Florida. He had a business meeting he’d been working his ass off to land for six months—dinner with the head of security for the Medinas, a deposed royal family that lived in exile in the United States.
Big-time account.
Once in a lifetime opportunity.
And the freedom to devote more of his energies to the philanthropic branch of this company. Freedom. It had a different meaning these days than when he’d flown crop dusters to make his rent back, in North Dakota.
“This—” she waved a piece of floral paper in front of him “—is the point.”
As she passed over the slip of paper, she stepped aside and revealed—holy crap—his kids. He looked down at the letter fast.
Two lines into the note, his temple throbbed. What the hell was Pippa thinking, leaving the twins this way? How long had they been in here? And why had she left him a damn note, for Pete’s sake?
He pulled out his cell phone to call his ex. Her voice mail picked up immediately. She was avoiding him, no doubt.
A text from Pippa popped up in his in-box. He opened the message and it simply read, Want 2 make sure you know. Twins r waiting for you at plane. Sorry 4 short notice. XOXO.
“What the h—?” He stopped himself short before he cursed in front of his toddlers who were just beginning to form words. He tucked his phone away and faced Alexa Randall. “I’m sorry my ex added babysitter duties to your job today. Of course I’ll pay you extra. Did you happen to notice which way Pippa headed out?”
Because he had some choice words for her when he found her.
“Your ex-wife wasn’t here when I arrived.” Alexa held up her own cell phone, her thumb swiping away a print. “I tried to contact your office, but your assistant wouldn’t let me get a word out before shifting me over to Muzak. It’s looped twice while I waited. Much longer and I would have had to call security, which would have brought in child services—”
He held up a hand, sick to his gut already. “Thanks. I get the picture. I owe you for cleaning up after my ex-wife’s recklessness as well.”
His blood pressure spiked higher until he saw red. Pippa had left the children unattended in an airplane at his privately owned airport? What had his security people been thinking, letting Pippa just wander around the aircraft that way? These were supposed to be the days of increased precautions and safety measures, and yet they must have assumed because she was his ex-wife that garnered her a free pass around the facility. Not so.
Heads were going to roll hard and fast over this. No one put the safety of his children at risk.
No one.
He crumpled the note in his fist and pitched it aside. Forcing his face to smooth so he wouldn’t scare the babies, he unstrapped the buckle on his daughter’s car seat.
“Hey there, princess.” He held Olivia up high and thought about how she’d squealed with delight over the baby swing on the sprawling oak in his backyard. “Did you have fruit for lunch?”
She grinned, and he saw a new front tooth had come in on top. She smelled like peaches and baby shampoo and there weren’t enough hours in the day to take in all the changes happening too quickly.
He loved his kids more than anything, had since the second he’d seen their fists waving in an ultrasound. He’d been damn lucky Pippa let him be there when they were born, considering she’d already started divorce proceedings at that point. He hated not being with them every day, hated missing even one milestone. But the timing for this visit couldn’t be worse.
Seth tucked Olivia against his chest and reached to ruffle his son’s hair. “Hey, buddy. Missed you this week.”
Owen stuck out his tongue and offered up his best raspberry.
The petite blonde dressed in trim, pressed chinos popped a pacifier into Owen’s mouth then knelt to pick up the crumpled note and pitch it into her cleaning bucket. “I assume today isn’t your scheduled visitation.”
She would be right on that. Although why the disdain in her voice? Nobody—single parent or not—would appreciate having their kids dumped off in their workplace. Not to mention he was mad as hell at Pippa for just dropping them off unannounced.
What if someone else had boarded this plane?
Thank God, this woman—Alexa—had been the one to find them. He knew who she was, but Pippa hadn’t known jack when she’d unloaded his children.
Of all the reckless, irresponsible …
Deep breath. He unbuckled Owen as well and scooped him up, too, with an ease he’d learned from walking the floors with them when they were infants. Just as he’d needed calm then, he forced it through his veins now.
Getting pissed off wouldn’t accomplish anything. He had to figure out what to do with his children when he was scheduled to fly out for a meeting with multimillion dollar possibilities.
When he’d first moved to South Carolina, he’d been a dumb ass, led by glitz. That’s how he’d ended up married to his ex. He’d grown up with more spartan, farm values that he’d somehow lost in his quest for beaches and billions.
Now, he itched inside his high-priced starched shirt and longed for the solitude of those flights. But he had long ago learned if he wanted to do business with certain people, he had to dress the part and endure the stuffy business meetings. And he very much wanted to do business with the Medina family based out of Florida. He glanced at his watch and flinched. Damn it. He needed to be in the air already, on his way to St. Augustine. At the moment, he didn’t have time for a sandwich, much less to find a qualified babysitter.
He would just have to make time. “Could you hold Owen for a second while I make some calls?”
“Sure, no problem.” Alexa stopped straightening his jacket on the hanger and extended her arms.
As he passed his son over, Seth’s hand grazed her breast. Her very soft, tempting breast. Just that fast touch pumped pure lust through his overworked body. It was more than just “nice, a female” kind of notice. His body was going on alert, saying “I will make it my mission in life to undress you.”
She gasped lightly, not in outrage but more like someone who’d been zapped with some static. For him, it was more like a jolt from a light socket.
Olivia rested her head on his shoulder with a sleepy sigh, bringing him back to reality. He was a father with responsibilities.
Still, he was a man. Why hadn’t he noticed the power of the pull to this woman when he’d walked onto the plane? Had he grown so accustomed to wealth that he’d stopped noticing “the help”? That notion didn’t sit well with him at all.
But it also didn’t keep him from looking at Alexa more closely.
Her pale blond hair was pulled back in a simple silver clasp. Navy chino pants and a light blue shirt—the company uniform—matched her eyes. It also fit her loosely, but not so much that it hid her curves.
Before the kids, before Pippa, he would have asked Alexa for her number, made plans to take her out on a riverboat dinner cruise where he would kiss her senseless under a starry sky. But these days he didn’t have time for dating. He worked and when he wasn’t on the job he saw his kids.
With a stab of regret, his gaze raked back over her T-shirt with the A-1 Aircraft Cleaning logo. He’d seen that same emblem in the cover letter she’d sent with her prospectus.
He also recalled why he hadn’t gotten any further than the cover letter and the fledgling business’s flyer—where he’d seen her headshot.
Following his eyes, she looked down at her shirt and met his gaze dead-on. “Yes, I have a proposal on your desk.” Alexa cocked one eyebrow. “I assume that’s why you were looking at my shirt?”
“Of course, why else?” he answered dryly. “You should have received an answer from my secretary.”
“I did, and when you’re not in a hurry—” she smoothed back her already immaculate hair “—I would appreciate the opportunity to explore your reasons for rejecting my initial bid.”
“I’ll save us both some time. I’m not interested in the lowest bidder or taking a risk on such a small company.”
Her sky-blue eyes narrowed perceptively. “You didn’t read my proposal all the way through, did you?”
“I read until my gut told me to stop.” He didn’t have time to waste on page after page of something he already knew wasn’t going to work.
“And you’re saying that your gut spoke up quickly.”
“Afraid so,” he said shortly, hoping to end an awkward situation with his best boardroom bite. A suspicion niggled. “Why is it you’re here cleaning today instead of someone from my regular company?”
“They subcontracted A-1 when they overbooked. Obviously I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to impress you.” She stood tall and undaunted in spite of his rejection.
Spunky and hot. Dangerous combo.
He fished his phone from his suit coat again. “I really do need to start making some calls.”
“Don’t let me keep you.” She dipped her hand into the diaper bag and pulled out two rice cakes. She passed one to Owen and the other to Olivia. All the while Owen tugged at her hair, watching the way the white-blond strands glittered in the light. “That should keep them quiet while you talk.”
Interesting that Alexa never once winced, even when Owen’s fingers tangled and tugged. Not that he could blame his son in the least.
Seth thumbed the numbers on his phone and started with placing a call to his ex-wife—that again went straight to voice mail. Damn it. He then moved on to dialing family members.
Five frustrating conversations later, he’d come up empty on all counts. Either his kids were hellions and no one wanted to watch them, or he was having a serious run of bad luck.
Although their excuses were rock solid. His cousin Paige was on lockdown since her two daughters had strep throat. His cousin Vic had announced his wife was in labor with child number three—which meant her sisters were watching her other two kids, in addition to their own. But damn it, he’d needed to take off five minutes ago.
Brooding, he watched Alexa jostle Owen on her shapely hip. She was obviously a natural with kids. She wasn’t easily intimidated, important when dealing with his strong-willed offspring. She’d protected the kids when she found them alone on the plane. He’d seen proof of her determination and work ethic. An idea formed in his head, and as much as he questioned the wisdom of it, the notion still took root.
In spite of what he’d told her, he had read more of her proposal than the cover letter, enough to know something about her. He was interested in her entrepreneurial spirit—she’d done a solid job revitalizing a company that had virtually been on financial life support. Still, his gut told him he couldn’t afford to take a risk on this part of his business, especially not now. Now that he was expanding, he needed to hire a larger, more established cleaning chain, even if it cost him extra.
But he needed a nanny and she’d passed the high-level background check needed to work in an airport. Her life had been investigated more thoroughly than anyone he would get from a babysitting service. Not to mention a babysitting service would send over a total stranger that his kids might hate. At least he’d met this woman, had access to her life story. Most importantly, he saw her natural rapport with the twins. He would be nearby in the hotel at all times—even during meetings—if she had questions about their routine.
She was actually a godsend.
Decision made, he forged ahead. “While I don’t think your company’s the right one to service Jansen Jets, I have a proposal for you.”
“I’m not sure I understand?”
“You fly with me and the kids to St. Augustine, be Owen and Olivia’s nanny for the next twenty-four hours and I’ll let you verbally pitch your agency’s proposal to me again, in detail.” The more he spelled it out, the better the idea sounded. “I’ll give you a few pointers about why my gut spoke up so quickly in case you want to make adjustments for future proposals to other companies. I’ll even pass along your name to possible contacts, damn good contacts. And of course you’ll be paid, a week’s worth of wages for one day’s work.”
Was he taking advantage here? He didn’t think so. He was offering her a business “in” she wouldn’t have otherwise. If her verbal proposal held together, he would mention her business to some of his connections. And yes, give her those tips to help cinch a deal elsewhere. She would land jobs, just not his.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Twenty-four hours of Mary Poppins duty in exchange for a critique and some new contacts?”
“That should be long enough for me to make alternative arrangements.” There’d been a time when twenty-four hours with a woman would be more than enough time to seduce her as well. His eyes roved over Alexa’s curves once more, regretting that he wouldn’t be able to brush up on those skills during this trip.
“And you trust me, a stranger, with your children?” Disdain dripped from her voice.
“Do you think this is the right time to call me a crummy father?” Though he had to appreciate her protective instincts when it came to his children.
“You could just ring up a nanny service.”
“Already thought of that. They wouldn’t get here in time and my kids might not like the person they send. Olivia and Owen have taken to you.” Unable to resist, he tapped the logo just above her breast. Lightly. Briefly. His finger damn near shot out a flame like a Bic lighter. “And I do know who you are. I read enough of your proposal to learn you’ve passed your security check for airport work.”
“Well, tomorrow is usually my day off …” She dusted the logo on her shirt, as if his touch lingered. “You’ll really listen to my pitch and give me tips, mention my company to others?”
“Scout’s honor.” He smiled for the first time all day, seeing victory in sight.
“I want you to know I’m not giving up on persuading you to sign me up for Jansen Jets as well.”
“Fair enough. You’re welcome to try.”
She eyed both the children then looked back to him. He knew when he’d presented an irresistible proposition. Now he just needed to wait for her to see this was a win-win situation.
Although he needed for her to realize that quickly. “I have about two minutes left here,” he pressed. “If your answer’s no, get to it so I can make use of the rest of my time to secure alternative arrangements.” Although God only knew what those might be.
“Okay.” She nodded in agreement although her furrowed brow broadcast a hefty dose of reservation. “You have yourself a deal. I’ll call my partner to let her know so she can cover—”
“Great,” he interrupted. “But do it while you buckle up the kids and yourself. We’re out of here.” He settled Olivia back into her car seat with a quick kiss on her forehead.
Alexa looked up quickly from fastening Owen into his safety seat. “Where’s the pilot?”
He stared into her pale blue eyes and imagined them shifting colors as he made her as hot for him as he was for her. God, it would be damn tough to have this jaw-dropping female working beside him for the next twenty-four hours. But his children were his top priority.
So he simply smiled—and, yes, took a hefty dose of pleasure in seeing her pupils widen with awareness. “The pilot? That would be me.”

Two
Her stomach dropped and she prayed the Gulfstream III wouldn’t do the same in Seth Jansen’s hands.
Turning off her cell after deleting four missed calls from her mother and leaving a message for her partner, Bethany, Alexa double-checked the safety belts for both children and buckled her own. Watching Seth slide into the pilot’s seat, she reminded herself he owned a charter jet company so of course it made sense he could pilot a plane himself. She’d flown on private aircraft during her entire childhood, trusting plenty of aviators she’d never even met to get her safely from point A to point B. So why was she so nervous with this guy at the helm?
Because he’d thrown her off balance.
Boarding the plane earlier, she’d had such optimism, a solid approach in place and control of her world. In the span of less than ten minutes, Seth Jansen had seized control of not just the plane, but her carefully made plan.
The kind of bargain he’d proposed was so unexpected, outrageous even. But too good an opportunity to pass up. She needed to take a deep breath, relax and focus on learning everything she could about him, to give her an edge in negotiations.
Even knowing he must have his pilot’s license, she wouldn’t have expected someone as wealthy as him willing to fly himself. She’d thought he would have someone else “chauffeuring” while he banged back a few drinks or took a nap. Like her dad would have done during their annual family vacation, a one-week trip that was supposed to make up for all the time they never spent together during the year.
Not that she saw much of either of her parents even then. While on vacation, the nanny had taken her to amusement parks or sightseeing or to the slopes while her father attended to “emergency” business and her mother went to the spa.
Simmering over old memories, Alexa polished the metal seatbelt buckle absently with the hem of her shirt as she watched Seth Jansen complete his preflight routine.
The door to the cockpit had been left open. Seth adjusted the mic on the headset, his mouth moving, although she couldn’t hear him as the engines hummed to life. Smooth as silk, the plane left the hangar, past a row of parked smaller aircraft until he taxied to the end of the runway and stopped.
Nerves pattered up from her stomach to the roots of her hair. The jet engines roared louder, louder still, and yet she could swear she heard Seth’s deep voice calmly blending with the aerial symphony.
Words drifted back …
“Charleston tower … Gulfstream alpha, two, one, prepared … Roger … Ready for takeoff …”
The luxury craft eased forward again, Seth’s hands steady on the yoke and power. Confidence radiated from his every move, so much so she found herself relaxing into the butter-soft leather sofa. Her hands fell to rest on the handle of each car seat, claiming her charges. Her babies, for the next twenty-four hours.
Her heart squeezed with old regrets. Her marriage to Travis had been an unquestionable failure. While part of her was relieved there hadn’t been children hurt by their breakup, another part of her grieved for the babies that might have been.
The nose of the plane lifted as the aircraft swooped upward. Olivia and Owen squirmed in their seats. Alexa reached for the diaper bag, panic stirring. Did they want a bottle? A toy? And if they needed a diaper change there wasn’t a thing she could do about that for a while. Just when the panic started to squeeze her chest, the noise of the engines and the pacifiers she’d used to help their ears soothed them back into their unfinished nap.
The diaper bag slid from her grip, thudding on the floor. Relaxing, she stared across the aisle out the window as they left Charleston behind. She also left behind an empty apartment and a silent phone since her married friends had dropped away after her divorce.
Church steeples and spires dotted the ocean-locked landscape. So many, the historic town had earned nicknames of the Holy City and the City by the Sea. After their financial meltdown, her parents had relocated to a condo in Boca Raton to start over—away from the gossip.
How ironic that her parents’ initial reservations about Travis had been so very far off base. They’d begged him to sign a prenuptial agreement. She’d told them to take their prenup and go to hell. Travis had insisted he didn’t care and signed the papers anyway. She thought she’d found her dream man, finally someone who would love her for herself.
Not that the contract had mattered in the end since her father had blown through the whole fortune anyway. By the time they’d broken up, her ex hadn’t wanted anything to do with her, her messy family dysfunction, or what he called her germaphobic ways.
The way Travis had simply fallen out of love with her had kicked the hell out of her self-esteem there for a while. She couldn’t even blame the breakup on another woman. No way in hell was she going to let a man have control of her heart or her life ever again.
All the more reason she had to make a go of her cleaning business and establish her independence. She had no other marketable skills, apart from a host of bills and a life to rebuild in her beloved hometown.
So here she was, on a plane bound for St. Augustine with a stranger and two heart-tuggingly adorable babies. The coastline looked miniscule now outside the window as they reached their cruising altitude.
“Hey, Alexa?”
Seth’s voice pulled her attention away from the view. He stood in the archway between the cockpit and the seating area.
Her stomach jolted again. “Shouldn’t you be flying the plane?”
“It’s on autopilot for the moment. Since the kids are sleeping, I want you to come up front. The flight isn’t long, but it will give us the chance to talk through some specifics about your time with the twins.”
She saw the flinty edge of calculation in his jewel-toned eyes. He may have offered her a deal back at the airport, but now he intended to interview her further before he turned over his children to her. A flicker of admiration lit through the disdain she had felt for him earlier.
Giving each baby another quick check and finding them snoozing away, binkies half in, half out of their slack mouths, she unbuckled, reassured she could safely leave them for a few minutes. She walked the short distance to Seth and stopped in the archway, waiting for him to move back to the pilot’s seat.
Still, he stood immobile and aloof, other than those glinting green eyes that swept over her face. The crisp scent of him rode the recycled air to tempt her nose, swirling deeper inside her with each breath. Her breasts tingled with awareness, her body overcome with the urge to lean into him, press the aching fullness of her chest against the hard wall of manly muscles.
She shivered. He smiled arrogantly as if completely cognizant of just how much he affected her on a physical level. Seth stepped back brusquely, returning to the pilot’s spot on the left and waving her into the copilot’s seat on the right.
Strapping in, she stared at the gauges around her, the yoke moving automatically in front of her. Seth tapped buttons along the control panel and resumed flying the plane. Still, the steering in front of her mirrored his movements until she felt connected to him in some mystical manner.
She resented the way he sent her hormones into overdrive with just the sound of his husky voice or the intensity of his sharp gaze. She was here to do a job, damn it, not bring a man into her already too complicated life.
Twisting her fingers together in her lap, she forced her thoughts back to their jobs. “What’s so important about this particular meeting that it can’t be rescheduled?”
“I have small mouths to feed. Responsibilities.” He stayed steadily busy as he talked, his eyes roving the gauges, his hands adjusting the yoke. “Surely you understand that, and if not, then I don’t even need to read your proposal.” He winked.
“Thank you for the Business 101 lecture, Mr. Jansen.” She brushed specks of dust from a gauge. “I was really just trying to make conversation, but if you’re more comfortable hanging out here alone, I’ll be glad to return to the back.”
“Sorry … And call me Seth,” he said with what sounded like genuine contrition. “Long day. Too many surprises.”
She glanced back at the sleeping babies, suddenly realizing they had miniature versions of his strong chin. “I can see that. What do you do to relax?”
“Fly.”
He stared out at the expanse of blue sky and puffy clouds, and she couldn’t miss the buzz radiating from him. Jansen Jets wasn’t just a company to him. He’d turned his hobby, his true love, into a financial success. Not many could accomplish such a feat. Maybe she could learn something about business from him after all.
“You were looking forward to this time in the air, weren’t you? What should have been your relaxing hour for the day has become a stressor.”
“I’ve gotta ask …” He looked over at her quickly, brow furrowed. “Is the psychoanalysis included in the cleanup fee?”
She winced as his words hit a little too close to a truth of her own. Travis used to complain about that same trait. Well, she did have plenty of practice in what a shrink would say after all the time she’d spent in analysis as a teenager. The whole point had been to internalize those healthier ways of thinking. She’d needed the help, no question, but she’d also needed her parents. When they hadn’t heard her, she’d started crying out for their attention in other ways, ways that had almost cost her life.
Her thoughts were definitely getting too deep and dark, and therefore too distracting. Something about this man and his children made her visit places in her mind she normally kept closed off. “Like I said, just making small talk. I thought you wanted me to come up here for conversation, to dig a little deeper into the background of your new, temporary nanny. If you don’t want to chat, simply say so.”
“You’re right. I do. And the first thing I’ve learned is that you don’t back down, which is a very good thing. It takes a strong person to stand up to the twins when they’re in a bad mood.” He shuddered melodramatically, his complaint totally undercut by the pride in his voice. Mr. Button-Up Businessman loosened up a little when he spoke of his kids. “What made you trade in your white gloves at tea for white glove cleaning?”
So he knew a little about her privileged upbringing as well. “You did more than just read my cover letter.”
“I recognized your name—or rather your return to your maiden name. Your father was once a client of a competing company. Your husband chartered one of my planes.”
“My ex-husband,” she snapped.
He nodded, his fingers whitening as his grip tightened on the yoke. “So, back to my original question. What made you reach for the vacuum cleaner?”
“Comes with the business.”
“Why choose this particular line of work?”
Because she didn’t have a super cool hobby like he did? She’d suffered a rude awakening after her divorce was finalized a year ago, and she realized she had no money and no marketable skills.
Her one negligible talent? Being a neat-freak with a need to control her environment. Pair that with insights into the lifestyles of the rich and spoiled and she’d fashioned a career. But that answer sounded too half-baked and not particularly professional.
“Because I understand the needs of the customer, beyond just a clean space, I know the unique services that make the job stand out.” True enough, and since he seemed to be listening, she continued, “Keeping records of allergies, favored scents, personal preferences for the drink bar can make the difference between a successful flight and a disaster. Flying in a charter jet isn’t simply an air taxi service. It’s a luxury experience and should be treated as such.”
“You understand the world since you lived in it.”
Lived. Past tense. “I want to be successful on my own merits rather than mooch off the family coffers.”
Or at least she liked to think she would have felt that way if there had been any lucre left in the Randall portfolio.
“Why work in this particular realm, the aircraft world?” He gestured around the jet with a broad hand.
Her eyes snagged on the sprinkling of fair hair along his forearm. Tanned skin contrasted with the white cuffs of his rolled up sleeves and wow did her fingertips ever itch to touch him. To see if his bronzed-god flesh still carried the warmth of the sun.
It had been so long since she’d felt these urges. Her divorce had left her emotionally gutted. She’d tried dating a couple of times, but the chemistry hadn’t been there. Her new business venture consumed her. Or rather, it had until right now, when it mattered most.
“I’m missing your point.” No surprise since she was staring at his arm like an idiot.
“You’re a … what … history major?”
“Art history, and being that close means you read my bio. You do know a lot more about me than you let on at first.”
“Of course I do or I never would have asked you to watch my children. They’re far more precious to me than any plane.” His eyes went hard, leaving no room for doubt. Any mistakes with his son and daughter would not be tolerated. Then he looked back at the sky, mellow Seth returning. “Why not manage a gallery if you need to fill your hours?”
Because she would be lucky if working in a gallery would cover rent on an apartment or a lease on an economy car, much less food and economic stability. Because she wanted to prove she didn’t need a man to be successful. And most importantly, because she didn’t ever again want the freaked out feeling of being less than six hundred dollars away from bankruptcy.
Okay, sort of melodramatic since she’d still owned jewelry she could hock. But still scary as hell when she’d sold off her house and car only to find it barely covered the existing loans.
“I do not expect anyone to support me, and given the current economy, jobs in the arts aren’t exactly filling up the want ad sections. Bethany has experience in the business, while I bring new contacts to the table. We’re a good team. Besides, I really do enjoy this work, strange as that may seem. While A-1 has employees who handle cleaning most of the time, I pitch in if someone’s out sick or we get the call for a special job. I enjoy the break from office work.”
“Okay, I believe you. So you used to like art history, and now you enjoy feeding people’s Evian habits and their need for clean armrests.”
The deepening sarcasm in his voice had her spine starching with irritation. “Are you making fun of me for the hell of it or is there a purpose behind this line of questioning?”
“I always have a purpose,” he said as smoothly as he flew the plane. “Will your whim of the week pass, once you realize people take these services for granted and your work is not appreciated? What happens to my aircraft then? I’ll be stuck wading through that stack of proposals all over again.”
He really saw her as a flighty, spoiled individual and that stung. It wasn’t particularly fair, either. “Do you keep flying even when people don’t appreciate a smooth or on-time flight, when they only gripe about the late or bumpy rides?”
“I’m not following your point here. I like to fly. Are you saying you like to clean?”
“I like to restore order,” she answered simply, truthfully.
The shrinks she’d seen as a teen had helped her rechannel the need for perfection her mother had drilled into Alexa from birth. She’d stopped starving herself, eased off searching the art world for flawless beauty and now took comfort from order, from peace.
“Ah—” a smile spread over his face “—you like control. Now that I understand.”
“Who doesn’t like control?” And how many therapy sessions had she spent on that topic?
He looked over at her with an emerald-eyed sexy stare. The air crackled as if a lightning bolt had zipped between them. “Would you like to take over flying the plane?”
“Are you kidding?” She slid her hands under her thighs even though she couldn’t deny to herself just how tempting the offer sounded.
Who wouldn’t want to take a stab at soaring through the air, just her and the wide-open blue rolling out in front of the plane? It would be like driving a car alone for the first time. Pushing an exotic Arabian racehorse to gallop. Happier memories from another lifetime called to her.
“Just take the yoke.”
God, how she wanted to, but there was something in his voice that gave her pause. She couldn’t quite figure out his game. She wasn’t in the position to risk her livelihood or her newfound independence on some guy’s whims.
“Your children are on board.” She knew she sounded prim, but then hey, she was a nanny for the day.
“If it appears you’re about to send us into a nosedive, I’ll take over.”
“Maybe another time.” She leaped up from the seat, not about to get sucked into a false sense of control that wouldn’t last. “I think I hear Olivia.”
His low chuckle followed her all the way back to both peacefully sleeping children.
Alexa could hear his husky laugh echoing in her ears two hours later as they settled into their luxurious hotel room in St. Augustine, Florida.
She had seen the best of the best lodgings and the Casa Monica—one of the oldest hotels in the United States—was gorgeous by any standards, designed to resemble a castle. The city of St. Augustine itself was rich with history and ornate Spanish architecture, the Casa Monica being a jewel. The hotel had been built in the 1800s, named for St. Monica, the mother of St. Augustine, the city’s namesake.
And here she was with Seth and his babies. She could use a little motherly advice from a patron saint’s mom right now.
She also needed to find some time to touch base with Bethany at work. Even though she was sure Bethany could manage—it had been her company at one time—she really did need to speak with her partner and give Bethany her contact information.
Seth had checked them into one of the penthouse suites, with a walk-out to a turret with views of the city. The suite had two bedrooms connected by a sitting area. The mammoth bath with a circular tub called to her muscles, which ached from working all day then lugging one of the baby carriers around. Then her thoughts went to images of sharing the tub with a man … not just any man …
She turned back to the room, decorated in blue velvet upholstery and heavy brocade curtains. Seth had claimed the spare bedroom, leaving her the larger master with two cribs inside. She trailed her fingers over the handle to Olivia’s car seat on the floor beside the mission style sofa in the sitting room. Olivia’s brother rested in his car seat next to hers.
“Your twins sleep well. They’re making this job too easy, you know.”
“Pippa doesn’t believe in bedtimes. They usually nap hard their first day with me.” Seth strode into the spare bedroom. “Expect mayhem soon enough when they wake up recharged. Owen’s a charmer, so much so it’s easy to miss the mischief he’s plotting. He’s always looking for the best way to stack furniture and climb his way out. You can see where he’s already had stitches through his left eyebrow. As for Olivia, well, keep a close eye on her hands. She loves to collect small things to shove up her nose, in her ears, in her mouth …”
Affection swelled from each word as he detailed his children’s personalities. The man definitely loosened up when around his kids or when he was talking about them. He seemed to know his offspring well. Not what she would have expected from a distant dad. Intrigued, she moved closer.
Through the open door, she could see him drape his suit coat on the foot of the bed. He loosened his tie further and unbuttoned his collar, then worked the buttons free down his shirt.
Alexa backed toward her own room. “Um, what are you doing?”
Seth slipped his still-knotted tie over his head and untucked the shirt. “Owen kicked his shoes against me when I picked him up after we landed.” He pointed to smudges down the left side. “I need to change fast before my meeting.”
His all-important meeting. Right. Seth had told her he was having dinner with a bigwig contact downstairs and she could order whatever she wanted from room service. He would be back in two to three hours. If she could get the kids settled in the tub, she could sit on the side and make some work calls while watching them. Check voice mail and email on her iPhone, deal with the standard million missed calls from her mom before moving on to deal with work. Her staff wasn’t large, just four other employees, including Bethany. Her partner was slowing down, but could hold down the fort. In the event an emergency arose, Bethany would make sure things didn’t reach a boiling point. So she was in the free and clear to spend the night here. With the kids.
And Seth.
She thumbed a smudge from the base of the brass lamp. “Can’t have shoe prints all over you at the big meeting. That’s for sure.”
“Could you look in the hang-up bag and get me another shirt?”
“Right, okay.” She spun away before he undressed further. She charged over to the black suitcase resting on top of a mahogany luggage rack.
Alexa tugged the zipper around and … oh my. The scent of him wafted up from his clothes, which should be impossible since they were clean clothes. But no question about it, the suitcase had captured the essence of him and it was intoxicating.
Her fingers moved along the hangers until she found a plain white shirt mixed in with a surprising amount of colorful others. Mr. Buttoned-up Businessman had a wild side. An unwelcome tingle played along her skin and in her imagination. She slapped the case closed.
Shirt in hand, she turned back to Seth who was now wearing only his pants and a T-shirt. His shoulders stretched the fabric to the limit. Her fingers curled into the shirt in her hands, her fingertips registering Sea Island Cotton, high-end, breathable, known for keeping the wearer’s body cool throughout the day.
Maybe she could use some Sea Island Cotton herself because she was heating up.
Alexa thrust the shirt toward him. “Will this do?”
“Great, thanks.” His knuckles brushed hers as she passed over his clothes as if they were intimately sharing a space.
And more.
Awareness chased up her wrist, her arm, higher still as the intimacy of the moment engulfed her. She was in a gorgeous hotel room, with a hot man and his beautiful children, helping him get dressed. The scene was too wonderful. Too close to what she’d once dreamed of having with her ex.
She jerked back fast. “Any last minute things to tell me about the kids when I order up supper?”
“Owen is allergic to strawberries, but Olivia loves them and if she can get her hands on them, she tries to share them with her brother. So watch that—hotels do the strawberry garnish thing on meals.”
“Anything else?” She tried to pull her eyes away from the nimble glide of his fingers up the buttons on his shirt.
“If you have an emergency, you can contact me at this number.” He grabbed a hotel pen and jotted a string of numbers on the back of a business card. “That’s my private cell line I use only for the kids.”
“Got it.” She tucked it in the corner of the gold gilded mirror. She could handle a couple of babies for a few hours.
Right?
“Don’t lose it. And don’t let Owen find it or he will eat it.” He unbuckled his belt.
Her jaw dropped.
He tucked in his shirttails—and caught her staring. Her face heating, she turned away. Again.
Looking out the window seemed like a safe idea even though she’d been to St. Augustine about a dozen times. She could see Flagler College across the way, a place she’d once considered attending. Except her parents refused to pay if she left Charleston. Students at the Flagler castlelike fortress must feel as if they were attending Hogwarts. In fact, the whole city had a removed-from-reality feel, a step out of time. Much like this entire trip.
A Cinderella carriage pulled by a horse creaked slowly by as a Mercedes convertible whipped around and past it.
As Charleston had the French Huguenot influence, buildings here sported a Spanish Renaissance flair, and if Seth didn’t get dressed soon, she would run out of things to look at. He was too much of a threat to her world for her to risk a tempting peek.
Her body hummed with awareness even when she didn’t see him. What a hell of a time for her hormones to stoke to life again.
“You can turn around now.” Seth’s voice stroked along her ragged nerves.
She chewed her lip, spinning back to face him, a man too handsome for his own good—or hers. “I’ve taken care of babies before.”
Not often, but for friends in hopes she could prepare herself for the day it was her turn. A day that had never come around.
“Twins are different.” He tugged the tie back over his head.
If he was so worried, he should cancel his meeting. She wanted to snap at him, but knew her irritability for what it was. Her perfect plan for the day had gone way off course, complicated even more by how damn attracted she was to the man she wanted to woo for a contract, not as a bed partner.
Memories of rustling sheets and sweat-slicked bodies smoked through her mind. She’d had a healthy sex life with her ex, so much so that she hadn’t considered something could be wrong until everything fell apart. She definitely couldn’t trust her body to judge the situation.
“Seth,” she said his first name so easily she almost gasped, but forced herself to continue, “the twins and I will manage. We’ll eat applesauce and fries and chicken nuggets then skyrocket your pay-per-view bill with cartoon movies until our brains are mush. I’ll watch Olivia with small objects, and Owen’s charm won’t distract me from his climbing or strawberry snitching. They’ll be fine. Go to your meeting.”
He actually hesitated before grabbing his jacket from the edge of the bed. “I’ll be downstairs in the bar if you need me.”
Oh, her body needed him all right. Too much for her own good. She was better off using her brains.
Seth stepped from the elevator into the lobby full of arches that led to the bar and restaurant. He scanned the chairs and sofas of rich dark woods with red-striped fabrics. Looking further, he searched past the heavy beams and thick curtains pulled back at each archway.
Thank God, somehow he’d managed to make it here ahead of his dinner partner. He strode past an iron fountain with Moorish tiles toward the bar where he was supposed to meet Javier Cortez, a cousin to royalty.
Literally. Cortez was related to the Medina family, a European monarchy that had ended in a violent coup. The Medinas and relatives had relocated to the United States, living in anonymity until a media scoop exposed their royal roots last year.
Cortez had served as head of security to one of the princes prior to the newsbreak and now oversaw safety measures for the entire family. Landing the Medinas as clients would be a huge coup.
Seth hitched up onto a stool at the bar, waving to the bartender for a seltzer water. Nothing stronger tonight.
Jansen Jets was still a small company, relatively speaking, but thanks to an in, he’d landed this meeting. One of those “Human Web” six degrees of separation moments—his cousin’s wife’s sister married into the Landis family, and a Landis brother married the illegitimate Medina princess.
Okay, that was more like ten degrees of separation. Thankfully, enough to bring him to this meeting. From this point on he had to rest on his own merits. Much like he’d told Alexa. Alexa …
Damn it all, did every thought have to circle back around to her?
Sure he’d noticed her on a physical level when he’d first stepped on the plane, and he’d managed the attraction well enough until he’d caught her eyes sliding over his body as he’d undone his pants. The ensuing heat wave sure hadn’t been a welcome condition right before a meeting.
But he needed her help, so he would damn well wrestle the attraction into submission. His kids were his number one priority. He’d tried calling his ex multiple times since landing in St. Augustine, but only got her voice mail. Life had been a hell of a lot less complicated when he was flying those routes solo in North Dakota.
There didn’t seem to be a damn thing more he could do about his mess of a personal life. Hopefully he could at least make headway in the business world.
Starting now.
The elevator dinged, doors swished open and Javier Cortez stepped out. Predictably the bar patrons buzzed. The newness of having royalty around hadn’t worn off for people. The forty-year-old royal cousin strode out confidently, his Castilian heritage fitting right into the hotel’s decor.
The guy’s regal lineage didn’t matter to Seth. He just appreciated the guy’s hard-nosed efficiency. This deal would be sewn up quickly, one way or another.
“Sorry I’m late.” Cortez thrust out his hand. “Javier Cortez.”
“Seth Jansen.” He stood to shake Javier’s hand and then resettled onto a barstool beside the other guy.
The bartender placed an amber drink in front of Javier before he even placed an order. “I appreciate your flying down to meet with me here.” He rattled the ice and looked around with assessing eyes. “My wife loves this place.”
“I can see why. Lots of historic appeal.”
It was also a good locale to conduct business, near the Medinas’ private island off the coast of Florida. Although Seth hadn’t been invited into that inner sanctum yet. Security measures were tight. No one knew the exact location and few had seen the island fortress. The Medinas owned a couple of private jets, but were looking to increase their transport options to and from the island as their family expanded with marriages and new children.
Cortez tasted his drink and set it on the cocktail napkin. “Since my wife and I are still technically finishing up our honeymoon, I promised her a longer stay, the chance to shop, laze around by the pool, soak up some Florida sun before we head back to Boston.”
What the hell was he supposed to say to that? “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, thanks. I hear you have your kids and their sitter with you.”
Of course he’d heard, even though Seth had only been in town for about an hour. The guy was a security whiz and obviously didn’t walk into a meeting unprepared. “I like to work in time with them whenever I can, so I brought the kids and Mary Poppins along.”
“Excellent. Then you won’t mind if we postpone the rest of this discussion.”
Crap. Just what he didn’t need.
The stay here extended. Less taken care of tonight, more tomorrow and even the next day. “Of course.”
Cortez stood, taking his drink with him as he started back toward the elevator. Seth abandoned his seltzer water.
They stepped into the elevator together, and Cortez swiped his card for the penthouse level. “My wife and I would enjoy having you and your kids meet us for breakfast in the morning, your sitter, too. Around nine? Great,” he said without waiting for an answer. “See you there.”
Holy hell. Breakfast in a restaurant with a one-year-old was tough enough. But with two of them?
He stepped out onto the top floor, Javier going right as he went left.
The closer he came to the suite’s door, the louder the muffled sounds grew. Squealing babies. Damn. Was one of them hurt? He double-timed toward his room, whipped the key card through just as the door opened.
Alexa carried a baby on each hip—two freshly bathed and wet naked babies. Her cheeks were flushed, her smile wide. “I just caught them. Holy cow, they’ve got some speed for toddlers.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/catherine-mann/billionaire-s-jet-set-babies-42454435/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.