Page 68 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

“It’s called a grand gesture.” He stepped closer. “When a guy puts himself out there to show a girl how he feels.”

Her breath hitched, and she ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “And how do you feel?”

“Like an idiot for not listening to you.” He took another step, his obvious effect on her making him bolder. “You were right about Oliver. About everything.”

The mention of his son’s name reminded him of the drawing. He took it from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here. Oliver made this for you.”

She unfolded the picture and studied it, a slow smile spreading across her beautiful face. “Is this the three of us?”

“Yeah. And that’s the Statue of Liberty and Central Park and the Empire State Building,” he said, pointing to the drawing.

“So coming to New York was Oliver’s idea.”

“I’d be lying if I said he didn’t give me a little inspiration,” Rhys admitted. “But the execution was all mine.”

“You made quite an impression, that’s for sure.” She sank down onto the couch, the picture in one hand, her chardonnay in the other.

He sat next to her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin but not so close they were touching. “A good one, I hope.”

“I’m not sure what it all means.”

She crossed her legs, and he tried to ignore the way her dress rode higher up her thighs. If there was ever a time for thinking with the head above his belt and not below, it was now.

“It means I need you. Oliver needs you. We want you back, Mallory.”

“As your nanny?”

“No. That position has already been filled.”

Her eyes widened. “It has?”

“Mm-hmm.” He leaned back, casually stretching his arm across the back of the sofa. “And I think you’ll agree I found the perfect person for the job.”

“I don’t know.” Mallory took a sip of her wine. “She’s got some pretty big shoes to fill.”

“He.”

“You hired a manny?”

“Not exactly.”

“Okay, now I’m totally confused.” Cute little furrows pleated her forehead, and he ached to take her in his arms and kiss them away. “Who is this caregiver extraordinaire?”

He pointed a thumb at his chest.

She stared at him blankly.

“You’re looking at him,” Rhys said.

Oliver’s drawing fluttered to the floor. “You?”

“Why so surprised? You were the one who told me I needed to spend more time with my son.”

“What about your work?”

He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to touch her. He took the glass from her hand, put it next to his on the side table, and laced his fingers with hers. “I’ve got good people working for me. Collins is overdue for a promotion. I’ll learn to delegate more. And what I can’t delegate I can do when Oliver’s asleep. Or in school.”

“School?”