The Billionaire's Nanny. Melissa McClone

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СКАЧАТЬ on his face.

      “What would I do if you misbehaved?” She tilted her head to the right and made a stern face, something she rarely used with children. “I’d start by talking to you.”

      “I’m not a big talker.” His mouth quirked, a sexy slant of his lips she tried to ignore. “I prefer action to words.”

      Libby hadn’t called her boss a player, but implied as much. Emma could tell he knew the rules of the game and how to break them. Especially when the game was business. “I imagine you know exactly when you’re behaving badly.”

      “That’s part of the fun.”

      No doubt. “A time-out wouldn’t work with you.”

      “I’d only get into more trouble if I had time to think.”

      Or he might come up with a way to make another few million dollars. “Then I would do something else.”

      He leaned forward, a movement full of swagger though he was sitting. “What?”

      Emma took her time answering. She studied his hair, lowered her gaze to his intensely focused eyes, followed his straight nose to those sensual lips, then dropped to his strong jaw and square chin. Handsome, yes, but calculating. She made her own assessment of what might mean the most to him. “I’d take away your electronics.”

      His model-worthy jaw dropped. “What?”

      A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her answer surprised him. Good. “I’d confiscate your cell phone, computer, tablet. That might teach you a lesson.”

      “Sounds a bit harsh.”

      “Not if it’s for your own good.”

      He rubbed his chin. “Then I’d better behave.”

      “Yes, you should.” His bank account didn’t impress Emma. He didn’t, either. Not much anyway. “Don’t make me go all Supernanny or Nanny McPhee on you.”

      The plane lurched.

      Here we go. Emma gripped the seat arms and glanced out the window. A small single-propeller aircraft taxied in front of them.

      “Please prepare for takeoff,” a male voice announced from overhead speakers.

      Must be the pilot. Her gaze traveled to AJ. He looked blurry. The rest of the cabin, too. She adjusted her glasses, blinked, but her vision remained fuzzy, the air surrounding her hazy and white.

      “Emma?”

      She squinted, trying to bring his face and body into focus. “Yes.”

      “You’re pale. Libby told me you don’t like flying.”

      Emma didn’t blame her friend for warning her boss. “It’s the moment the wheels lift off that gets to me the most, but I should be okay.”

      Please let me be okay. The engines revved, louder and louder.

      No big deal. She dug her fingers into the butter-soft leather. Pressed her feet against the floor. Leaned her head against the seat.

      No big deal. The jet bolted forward, as if released from a slingshot, accelerating down the runway. Dread crept through her stomach and hardened into stone, an uncomfortable heaviness settling in. She burned again, her skin, her insides, immune to the blasts of cool air.

      No big deal. Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Darkness didn’t keep the sickening, familiar sensation of weightlessness at bay. The moment the wheels lifted, her stomach plummeted to her toes, then boomeranged to her throat.

      Memories bombarded her. The choking smell of smoke. The scorching heat of the flames. The terrifying screams of her brother.

      Nausea rose inside her like the jet climbing in the sky. She opened her eyes. “Oh, no.”

      AJ’s hands rested on his thighs. “What?”

      Emma’s stomach constricted. Her mouth watered. She reached into the seat pocket. “I’m going to be sick.”

      * * *

      Damn. AJ stared at Emma, who held on to a white barf bag as if it were the Holy Grail. He pushed himself forward in his seat, difficult to do facing backward and strapped in with the plane climbing, but he’d achieved the impossible before.

      He reached for her, uncertain how to help, but needing to do something. “Emma.”

      She raised her left hand, an almost imperceptible movement he took to mean “not now.” He didn’t blame her, but sitting here unable to do anything brought back a dreaded sense of helplessness, of uselessness. He remembered being out on the water with his father during a storm. More than once AJ figured they would have to abandon ship. More than once he thought they would die. More than once he vowed to do something different with his life if they survived.

      You’ll never amount to anything if you leave Haley’s Bay.

      His father’s words pounded through AJ’s head like high tide against the harbor rocks. He’d spent the past ten years proving his dad wrong. In spades.

      Except AJ’s private jet, fifteen-hundred employees and a net worth of eleven billion were irrelevant at the moment. None of those things could help Emma.

      Her greenish complexion worsened. Her white-knuckled fingers, clutching the barf bag, trembled.

      The plane continued climbing. If he unbuckled, he might end up on top of Emma. Better to wait until the plane leveled.

      The least he could do was give her privacy. Not easy in this confined space, but he glanced out the window.

      Tendrils of fluffy white clouds floated in the blue sky. A good day for flying, unless you suffered airsickness.

      A moan filled the cabin.

      The cat’s stop-they’re-torturing-me cry irritated AJ. Who was he kidding? Everything about felines, especially how much bandwidth people wasted posting “cute” cat pictures on the internet, bugged him. He wanted the cat to be a distraction when they reached Haley’s Bay, not during the flight. AJ drummed his fingers against the armrest.

      Emma’s retching stopped. The cat kept howling. He suppressed a groan.

      AJ wanted to start his day over. Nothing about his trip was turning out as expected. He wanted to make a triumphant return to Haley’s Bay. He wanted everything to go smoothly during his five-day stay. He wanted Libby with her anal-retentive organizing skills accompanying him, not some...nanny. He’d joked with Emma to see her response and glimpse her social skills.

      What in the world was he going to do with an uptight, vomiting Mary Poppins? Libby had warned him about Emma’s problem with flying. If he’d known her issue involved bodily fluids, he would have asked his chauffeur Charlie to drive Emma to Haley’s Bay instead. A car ride would have been easier on her, on AJ, on the annoying cat.

      He flexed his fingers. Libby’s brain must have been foggy after her appendectomy. He didn’t understand why she thought her best friend was СКАЧАТЬ