Jill Shalvis - A Prince Of A Guy

Still there were those huge blue eyes of hers, magnified by those glasses. “It’s okay,” he heard himself saying. “I don’t mind visitors.”

Nikki stopped short of opening a soda and gaped at him. “Since when?”

“I could use a break,” he said raising his eyebrows in such a way as to tell his nosy assistant he was trying to spare Carly’s feelings.

“You hate breaks,” Nikki said.

At Sean’s glare, she rolled her eyes and vanished.

“Sean? You sure?” asked Carly.

No, he wasn’t sure at all, but she looked so…desperate. And that little doubt came back, just a little niggle of it, but it was enough to disturb him.

Who was she, really?

Very uneasy that maybe she hadn’t been completely honest with him, he took a big mental step back. His ex hadn’t been honest, and that had nearly destroyed him. Now he had Melissa to think about, though what else could he do? He had very carefully and thoroughly checked Carly’s references.

It had to be his attraction to her that bothered him.

“Uh-oh,” Melissa said suddenly from the corner. She’d punched too many buttons on the fax machine, and paper started spitting out of it.

While he and Carly went closer, Melissa backed away. She fed Sean’s discarded sandwich to the computer through its disk drive.

It started to smoke.

The fire alarm went off.

“Not again!” cried Melissa, covering her ears.

“Dammit!” Sean roared brilliantly.

Nikki came racing in, took one look at the disaster zone and brought her hands to her mouth to cover her shocked laugh.

“I can fix it,” Carly assured them, fanning air in front of the smoke detector until it stopped. Then she bent to the disk drive, which was making a funny noise.

Melissa’s bottom lip continued to quiver. Then she opened her mouth and let out a sharp, earsplitting wail.

Sean struggled with his temper, overcome with the urge to strangle his sister for putting him in this position in the first place. Melissa belonged with her mother, not with him.

And then there was his nanny, who at this very moment was bent over his computer, glasses slipping down her nose, her huge sweater nearly falling off her creamy shoulders as she worked on his computer.

What kind of a nanny knew how to fix computer hardware? And why was he fighting a very male, very base urge to lean close and suck on that shoulder?

He took a deep, dragging breath and looked at Melissa, who was still crying. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

Eyes full, she blinked at him. A hiccup racked her belly.

“I’m really sorry,” he added.

She studied him, then lifted her arms. “Hug.”

“Melissa-” But she was already crawling up his body, forcing him to do as she’d demanded and hug her. In his arms, she felt little and defenseless. Sweet.

And he’d scared her.

He felt about two inches tall.

“Love you, Uncle Sean,” she whispered, yawning widely, setting her head on his shoulder.

Sean’s throat tightened. “Love you, too.” Make that one inch tall.

But then Melissa lifted her head, clutched her stomach, turned a distinct shade of green and said, “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Oh, dear.” Carly looked over at them. “How many chocolates did you eat?”

“All of them.” And then threw up all over him.

THAT NIGHT, Carlyne locked her bedroom door and sank to her bed with a grateful whimper before so much as removing her shoes.

She needed to take off the heavy, itchy wig, remove her colored contacts and strip down before she fell asleep, but she could hardly move.

Despite her utter failure today, despite her exhaustion, she felt…happy. The work was harder than anything she’d ever done, yet it exhilarated her to be stretching herself. Trying at something.

Baffled at that, and more than a little confused about why she wanted to work like this when she didn’t have to, she rolled over and dove through her bag for her cell phone, which she’d turned off when Sean had hired her. She turned it on. It was late, but that was her fault. She’d let Melissa sample the homemade play dough that morning and then a million or so chocolate kisses at Sean’s office. Was it any wonder the poor child had gotten sick all over him?

Then again in his car on the way home?

And once more in the living room?

Sean had been pretty gracious about the whole thing, really. He hadn’t yelled again, though she could tell he’d wanted to. Instead, he’d scooped up Melissa-careful to hold her at arms’ length-and had assured her she was okay.

Melissa had taken one look at him and had listened. She’d calmed down. She’d even wanted to hug him again, but Sean had managed to avoid that without hurting her feelings.

Just watching the two of them, Carly had felt that strange tightening in her throat. They didn’t seem to know the particulars of what their relationship entailed, especially Sean. But he’d never walk away.

Had she really compared him to the men in her family?

She’d been wrong, very wrong. Her parents had rarely been around, certainly not when she’d been sick. It was something she’d always ached for when she’d been hurting-warm, secure, loving arms. She’d rarely gotten them.

Melissa had no idea how lucky she was.

“Poor little rich girl,” Carlyne berated herself, pushing away the melancholy memories. No one in their right mind would spare a moment of pity for her.

On her cell phone, she punched in the numbers she knew by heart. “Francesca,” she said the moment her assistant answered groggily. “How are you?” she asked in their native French.

“How am I? Terrific. You, on the other hand, you have problems.” Francesca never held back to spare Carlyne’s feelings, which was the biggest reason they were so close. “In fact, let me list them for you. You’ve run away from home…”

“I did not.” Carlyne glanced at her still-shut door and lowered her voice. Wouldn’t do to get caught speaking French. “Look, we discussed this when I called you yesterday. I’m all grown up, Francine, so it’s entirely different when I go away. I’m…on vacation,” she said, unwilling to try to explain the mission she was on.

“Uh-huh. Vacation. Without any money, without a car, without-”

“Look, I didn’t call for a lecture. I could have called home for that.”

“Speaking of which, you might want to actually try that. Your parents have called looking for you. So has your cousin.”

“Yeah, only because they need me for something or another. It’s not as if they miss me.”

Francesca went quiet for a moment, and Carlyne winced at how pathetic she’d sounded. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

“What’s the matter? You sound different.”

She was different. She was Carly here, not Carlyne.

“Carlyne? Your mother is worried about that banquet you’re putting on for the international press.”

Heaven forbid her mother would call just to say hello. “Tell her everything is done. I’ll earn her thousands for all those charities.” And she would. It was Carlyne’s specialty, coaxing rich people to part with their money.

“And your grandfather-”

“Needs something, too, no doubt. Francesca. Help. ”

“What do you need? A way to get home? I can come myself, or send-”

“No, I don’t want to leave.” Not yet. She’d wanted a break from her life. A glimpse at how everyone else lived. Well, she’d had more than a glimpse. No one knew her. No one treated her like glass. No one expected cool sophistication and smooth elegance. No one expected her to be anything or anyone other than Carly.