Page 31 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

One dark brow arched toward his hairline. “What about the other night?”

If that wasn’t adept, she’d hate to see what was. It would probably leave her in a panting, boneless mound.

The somersaults returned in full force. It was like she had the entire Cirque du Soleil in there. She turned off the burner, letting the popcorn continue to pop, and moved on to melting the almond bark. “If you’re fishing for compliments, I thought you did pretty well.”

Until he left her hot and bothered.

“I wasn’t, but thanks. And the feeling’s mutual.” For a split second, hope swelled her heart, but his next words sent her crashing back to earth. “But it can’t happen again.”

She broke the block of bark into pieces and dumped them into a microwave-safe bowl. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”

“Both.”

She stuck the bowl in the microwave, punching the buttons with more force than necessary. “I hate to sound juvenile, but you started it.”

“I ended it, too.”

Ouch.

The microwave beeped. She stirred the semi-melted bark and set the timer for another thirty seconds. “I take it back. I’ve found something you’re not adept at. Letting women down easily.”

A dark cloud crossed his handsome face. “Beth always said diplomacy wasn’t my strong suit.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. You’re my boss. I work for you. Kissing you is definitely not part of my job description.”

No matter how much she wanted it to be.

The microwave dinged again. She pulled out the bowl of fully melted bark and set it on the counter. “I should get Oliver. He likes to drizzle the chocolate on the popcorn.”

“I’ll do it.” Rhys pushed back his chair and stood. For a moment she thought he was going to say something more. Then, with shake of his head, he retreated, seeming to realize that at least for the time being, she needed the subject of THE KISS to be closed.

As soon as he left the room, the tension seeped from Mallory’s body like air from a collapsed soufflé. She busied herself lining a baking sheet with wax paper and spreading out the popcorn. She was almost done when Rhys returned, alone.

“Where’s Oliver?”

“I don’t know.” His face was etched with concern. “He wasn’t in his room.”

“Did you check the rest of the rooms upstairs?”

“Yes. I can’t find him anywhere.”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “I’ll help look. He can’t have gone far.”

For the next ten minutes, they went floor to floor, searching every corner of the house where a four-year-old could hide and coming up empty.

“We’re wasting our time here.” Rhys grabbed his windbreaker off the back of the couch and shoved his arms through the sleeves. “He’s not in the house.”

“You think he went outside?” Mallory cast a cautious eye out the window. The sky had darkened to an ominous gray, and wind whipped the tops of the trees.

“I don’t think, I know.” Rhys yanked up the zipper on his jacket. “And I’ve got a pretty good idea where he is.”

Their eyes met, and they spoke at the same time.

“Beth’s beach.”

…

The ride to Beth’s beach in the UTV was the longest few minutes of Rhys’s life. Longer than when he’d stalked the mailbox checkingfor grad school acceptances. Longer than the time he’d paced outside the bathroom door of their Tribeca co-op, waiting for Beth to pee on a stick. Even longer than the agonizing moments he’d waited for the doctors to tell him her fate after the terrorist attack two years later.