Page 28 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

“Don’t you? I do.”

The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to yank them back. Since that was impossible, she settled for releasing his hand, picking up a sponge, and wiping down the perfectly clean counter.

Fortunately, he didn’t press her. “I guess that explains it.”

She stopped wiping to shoot him a puzzled look over her shoulder. “Explains what?”

“Why Oliver took to you so quickly. You understand what he’s been through because you’ve been through it, too.”

“So have you,” she pointed out, turning to face him.

“It’s not the same.” His entire body tensed as if he’d been struck by lightning. “Oliver’s a child. He’s innocent. I’m…not.”

She wanted to ask what he meant, but before she could speak he smacked a palm down on the counter, making her jump. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

“Right.” She tossed her sponge in the sink.

He moved toward the door without a backward glance, his gait rigid, his arms stiff at his sides. She trailed after him, catching up to him in the hallway, and they walked together in silence to the bottom of the stairs.

“I guess this is where we say good night.” Her bedroom, and all the others save the master suite, were on the second floor. The Flannigans lived in the caretaker’s cottage, and Collins had a room above the boathouse. Which meant at night the only occupants of the main house were her, Rhys, and a four-year-old who slept so soundly a hurricane wouldn’t wake him. Something she tried not to think too much about. She shuffled from one bare foot to the other. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Mallory.”

His voice stopped her before she could reach the second step. She spun around to find his posture had softened but his face looked more solemn than ever, if that was possible.

“Thanks for dinner.”

His soulful whiskey eyes and smoky nighttime voice turned her legs to gelatin. She grabbed the banister for support. The last thing she wanted was to fall in a lust-addled heap at his feet. The man was still grieving for his wife, not looking to hook up with his nanny. “It was no big deal.”

“Yes, it was.”

He stepped toward her, the toes of his Top-Siders bumping the base of the stairs. His sunny, salty, citrusy scent surrounded her, and she tightened her grip on the banister. Even one step below her, he towered over her, and she could almost count the unfairly long dark lashes framing his eyes.

“You’re welcome.” The words came out in a whisper.

Without warning, his head bent, and his lips brushed hers. So soft, so gentle, so fleeting she thought she’d imagined it or entered an alternate universe where smoking-hot billionaire single dads kissed their nannies good night. But then any hint of tentativeness disappeared, and there was no way of denying Rhys Dalton was kissing her like she’d never been kissed before.

Her limited experience with the country club set hadn’t prepared her for this. For the sweet slide of his mouth against hers. The flick of his tongue, coaxing her to open for him. The pressure of his fingers gripping her hips, inching her closer.

Heat flared in her belly and spread like melted butter through her veins as he devoured her with a hunger and tenderness that were entirely foreign to her. He made her feel delicious. Desirable.

Daring.

It was all she could do to remain upright. Her hands drifted upward and clutched his hair, his neck, the soft cotton of his shirt—anything to keep from collapsing.

Damn, the man could kiss. He tasted like coffee and Gruyère. She lost all sense of time or place or propriety. Just as she started to relax into him and allow herself to respond, he pulled away. He took one step back, then two, letting his arms fall limp at his sides.

“That was…”

Amazing? Mind-blowing? Life-changing?

“A mistake,” he finished. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Good night.”

He’s right, she thought, her glassy, lust-blurred eyes following his retreating form until it disappeared.You know he’s right. It’s not like this can go anywhere. The billionaire and the babysitter. It’s doomed from the start.

But knowing that didn’t make his words any less painful.