Jennifer Greene - The Billionaire’s Handler

Maguire had known for a long time that he could kill anyone who hurt his vulnerable brother, but he’d never met anyone who related to him as naturally as Carolina.

Shannon said, “I can’t believe it. She’s just great with him.”

In spite of the chilly, rainy afternoon, Tommy wanted to run around outside-with Carolina and Woofer. Maguire thought the idea was insane, but he had business issues to discuss with Shannon, the more private the better.

They both stood at the window, watching Carolina and Tommy in the yard.

“Wow,” Shannon murmured again. “You know what? From what I’d heard about her, she’s exactly what I expected.”

“And what did you expect?”

“A sweetie. A do-gooder teacher. Someone softer than a pansy, real good with kids, nothing cynical or jaded about her.” Shannon pivoted on a high-heeled boot. “Which makes her the last woman in the universe I expected you to fall for.”

“That’s a pretty amazing conclusion to reach, considering you just met her two seconds ago.”

Shannon smelled the brownies, marched over to give them a peek, then reached for a hot pad and pulled the pan out to the stovetop. “There’s nothing wrong with falling, Maguire. It happens to the best of us. I guess I just expected you to fall for…I don’t know…a grad from a fancy East Coast school, maybe a pissy lawyer in stilettos, the kind of woman who’d been breaking glass ceilings from the get-go.”

He didn’t answer. As fond as he was of Shannon-and he was-he didn’t talk about his personal life, with her or anyone else. If and when he got around to marrying, he might have envisioned someone like she’d described. But that was a totally different issue than…falling.

“I’m not sure I really see a need for marriage.”

“You never saw a need for people putting themselves in a trap where they’re likely to strangle each other and cause lasting scars,” Shannon retorted.

“Yeah. Isn’t that what I just said?” Truthfully, he’d always wanted kids. He just never bought into the fairy tale. If children came into the picture, he expected to marry, expected to be a damn good partner, faithful, supportive, that whole experience. He just never wanted to put love in that frame. He’d grown up seeing exactly what “love” could do, how twisted a relationship could become because of money. It never even entered his mind as an option.

“Maguire.” Shannon stood inches from the brownies as if they’d cool faster if she hovered that close. “It’s in your face. The way you look at her. I’ve never seen you before-”

He cut her off. “We really don’t have time for chitchat. Carolina and Tommy’ll be back any minute. When you called, you said there was a financial crisis.”

She looked away. “I’m afraid you’ll yell at me.”

“Have I ever yelled at you? Even once?”

“No, but…”

“Just get it said. We’ll deal with it.” Maguire suspected he didn’t really need to hear the story. The refrain was always the same.

When their father died, Jay had gotten primary custody of Tommy for two reasons-one was that he was the eldest son, and second, because he’d asked his father for it. Jay had wanted the living allowance set up for Tommy in his own pocket… but Jay had never really wanted to give his brother time or attention.

Shannon was no relationship to any of them, but she’d loved Tommy from the day he was born, and Tommy revered her. So she’d taken on the maternal role, by her choice-by everyone’s choice. Maguire had guaranteed a generous allowance to maintain his brother’s housing and welfare in every way, knowing that Jay would run through Tommy’s money faster than a forest fire.

And that was exactly the problem. Jay was forever overspending his trust, and every time, he’d hit up Shannon. He always had the ace card, because he’d threaten to withdraw Tommy from her care if she didn’t fork over the money.

It was the same story this time. The whole thing made Maguire tired. Yeah, of course he immediately stepped in to solve the problem, but the situation underlined why he needed to stop thinking about Carolina in a personal way. Money didn’t change anything that mattered. Life was ugly-at least his life was. Money invariably provoked selfishness and greed-and gave power to those who shouldn’t have it. It wasn’t a life he’d want for Carolina.

It was a life he’d be embarrassed to share, particularly with someone as good as she was.

“Well,” Shannon suddenly murmured. “Will you look at what the cat dragged in.”

He’d already turned his head at the sounds of commotion in the doorway. Carolina, Tommy, and the dog poured through the door, laughing, spraying water like puppies, everybody muddy. “We had a tiny fall,” Carolina called out.

“Yeah. We slid down this long hill!” Tommy said exuberantly.

“Only there was this puddle-”

“Except the puddle turned out big as a lake!”

Carolina held up her hands. “Nobody worry! We’ll fix this! We’re headed straight for showers. Um, Maguire, where’s the washing machine?”

“For you or the dog?”

And yeah, he was laughing. But the sound of laughter in his heart was bittersweet. Mud or no mud, Carolina was pure clean from the inside and out, nothing ugly tainting her life-the way a whole lot of wrong things irrevocably colored his.

By evening, the unflappable Maguire seemed to be in a downright snarly mood. Carolina could see he’d had a great time with Tommy, and the boy loved every minute with his older brother. She liked Tommy’s caretaker, Shannon, even if she hadn’t quite grasped how an ex-wife of Tommy’s brother-someone who wasn’t remotely blood kin-had gotten the parenting job. It didn’t really matter. It was obvious the boy was thriving under Shannon’s care.

When Shannon and Tommy-and the behemoth dog-left after dinner, Maguire’s pretend-upbeat posture sagged. He disappeared in the library for a while. She had dinner with Henry, who groveled for more brownies, and urged her to have patience with Maguire.

There was nothing to have patience about. He was just…unhappy about something, unsettled. He spoke to her, spoke to Henry, had dinner, said the right things. It was in his eyes that something was wrong.

He’d closed up like a clam in a storm.

Both of them still had jet lag. When his eyes closed, watching the news, Carolina thought maybe exhaustion was the only thing going on, and heaven knew, she crashed soon after.

The morning brought sunshine-and an extraordinary surprise out the back door. When she looked out, she found Maguire and Henry both outside, even at this early hour, holding coffee and circling the surprise like lions guarding a hunt.

As fast as she could pile on clothes, she chased downstairs and outside, shrieking all the way, leaving the door open and not wasting time on a coat, no matter what the temperature.

It was a joke. Her asking for a ride in a ’53 MG. Something on that silly list she’d made when she first came-it seemed like years ago-nothing that she remembered or ever expected to be taken seriously.

The baby was candy-apple-red, with fat fenders over her front wheels, a running board, a front hood that gleamed like a mirror. She’d only seen one once before. Didn’t know what a Mark IV was from a TD or any other label like that…she’d just sat in the one car that her grandfather had worked with, and fell in love.

Both men turned at the sound of her screams, and for the first time in a solid twenty-four, she caught Maguire’s real grin. He opened the bitsy door, motioned her inside into the old, black leather seat.

“Where did you guys find this?”

“Don’t ask. Just next time, ask for world peace, or something that’s easy to come by.”