Teresa Southwick - Marrying the Virgin Nanny / The Nanny and Me - Marrying the Virgin Nanny / The Nanny and Me

Her heart was pounding, yet it felt like all the blood had drained from her head. She couldn’t think straight. He must be kidding, toying with her. And yet he looked completely determined.

“Marriage?” She held out her hands, a helpless gesture. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“You need to come up with an answer, Maggie, because I still need one.” They stared at each other and tension rolled off him in waves. “How much will it take? When you showed up, I couldn’t help thinking I’d hit the jackpot. Nothing you’ve done has changed my opinion. I want to keep you. Name your price. How much will it take to convince you that I’ve never been more serious in my life? You’re the answer to my prayers.”

Prayer. She remembered another motherless child at Good Shepherd Home who prayed for a mother. That home was the only permanent one Maggie had ever known and it was still a haven for children. But not much longer unless Sister Margaret’s prayers were getting results. She’d told Lyssa that God gives you what you need at the appropriate time.

The home needed money. A lot of it.

“Answer me, Maggie. What will it cost for you to marry me?”

She said the first thing that popped into her mind. “A million dollars.”

“Done,” he said without hesitation.

“I don’t believe you’d give me a million dollars to marry you,” Maggie said.

“You don’t know me very well.” He stared her down. “Believe it.”

When he calculated a nine-month pregnancy as opposed to raising the child for an indefinite length of time, Jason figured it was a bargain. He’d paid Catherine as much just to bring Brady into the world and she’d been giddy at the number of zeros on the bonus check simply for staying out of their lives.

Not that he wanted that greedy, grasping, self-centered woman anywhere near his son, but when he’d made the deal, he hadn’t counted on the complications of caring for and bringing up a child.

Maggie’s protective instincts had kicked in before she even saw Brady. She’d refused to talk until the baby was comforted and content. After Brady’s first nannies, her presence these last few weeks had been like a cooling weather system from the north taking the heat off a desert summer.

Not until Maggie had walked into his life had he understood what a difference the right woman could make, in terms of child rearing. It would be stupid to let her get away, and he hadn’t taken the family company to a whole new level of success by being stupid.

Maggie stared at him as if he had two heads. “I don’t know whether to laugh or be afraid.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You just offered me a large sum of money to marry you. It’s like a scenario for an outrageous reality show. Or Punk’d. ” She looked up and around the room’s ceiling. “Do you have cameras on me right now? Is this going on TV?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Right back at you.”

“On the contrary,” he said, “this is the least silly idea I’ve ever had. It makes complete sense.”

“Not to me.” She folded her arms over her chest, drawing his attention there.

The only part of this idea that was silly had to do with his level of attraction. Instead of decreasing with time as he’d thought, the longer she stayed, the more appealing things he noticed about her—the subtle curves of her body that jeans only accentuated. Her high, firm breasts outlined by sweaters, blouses and T-shirts. His escalating curiosity about how her full lips would taste, how they’d feel against his own.

This was not a good time to let all that considerable appeal distract him from negotiating with her.

“Nothing about this makes sense,” she said.

“Can you be more specific?”

“In this day and age men don’t pay women to marry them.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He held up three fingers. “Three words. Anna Nicole Smith.”

“Oh, please. Completely different situation. The man was ninety-something and she was after his money.”

“How do you know he wasn’t looking for someone to nurture his children?”

“If I remember right, his son was in his fifties or sixties. The guy could take care of himself. By any stretch of the imagination she was a gold digger.”

“Maybe he was interested in companionship and was willing to pay for it. Strictly a business deal. Not unlike what I’ve proposed.”

“How do you know I’m not a gold digger?”

The idea that she could be manipulative and calculating made him smile. “The definition of a gold digger is someone who uses her feminine wiles for gifts or monetary gain. You haven’t done that. And I will have my attorney draw up a pre-nuptial agreement to protect me from any possible challenge to my financial assets. It would just be a precaution. Something a smart man does.”

“At this particular moment, I have some serious doubts about your intelligence level. A smart man wouldn’t propose this in the first place.”

“He would to do right by his son. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t secure the best possible future for Brady?”

“You’d sacrifice your own future for his?”

That presupposed he had a romantic future. He didn’t. No woman could get close because he wouldn’t let them. “I’m not sacrificing anything, Maggie.”

“Because you love him.”

It wasn’t a question, and that pleased him. “Yes.”

“A father should love his son enough to do anything for him, but that doesn’t mean you should do anything for him.”

He took a step closer, near enough to reach out and touch her. Something he badly wanted to do again after holding her in his arms. In the mirror behind her he could see her back, the trim, ramrod straight posture. Or it could be tension. This was a big step. It should give him pause, but the more he thought about it, the more right it felt.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Do you need the money? Is there something you could do with it?”

She caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. “Doesn’t everyone need cash?”

He looked at her and smiled. “I don’t.”

“Okay.” She slid her fingers into the pockets of her jeans. “But the average person could use a large sum of money. If not, Las Vegas would just be a tiny town in the desert. It’s built on dreams of winning big.”

“And I’m offering you an opportunity to do that. It’s not a dream and there’s no luck involved. All you have to do is say the word. And you didn’t answer my question. Is there something you could use money for?”

“Yes.” She looked down and her silky hair framed her face, teased her cheeks.

His heart lurched and his hands tingled with the urge to tunnel his fingers in all that shiny hair and cup her face. “Tell me what it is.”

She met his gaze. “The Good Shepherd Home is in a bad way. I told you about the building being in disrepair. Sister Margaret and Sister Mary have done everything, talked to everyone they can think of. So far the money isn’t pouring in. And I don’t think bake sales and car washes will make a dent in what they need.”

“I’ve just offered you the perfect solution.”

The conflict raging within her shadowed her eyes. “It’s not perfect.”

“Nothing ever is. But we both get what we want.” He took her hands. It seemed safe enough until he felt her doubts in the trembling and the softness of her skin. But he hung on and squeezed gently, reassuringly. “You’re afraid of getting emotionally attached, then losing your position as nanny. I need someone I trust with my son. If you marry me, I get what I want and you’ll have a guaranteed place in my household. Another plus is the money to bail out Good Shepherd. Call it a sign-on bonus.”