The other woman had it coming for being such a stuck-up witch, and maybe after this, Tessa wouldn’t be as nasty the next time a nanny came knocking on her counter.
All in a day’s work as Mrs. Hardwall, Tilly thought, even if today might be her last day as the billionaire’s wife.
How the mighty have fallen, Jim privately thought to himself as he watched Logan twitch restlessly in his seat for the nth time in the past five minutes. In the seventeen years he had been working for the younger man, not once had he seen the billionaire this restless.
And to think it was all because of a woman.
The first time he had seen Logan acting out of character, he had thought that the billionaire either had ants in his pants or he was struggling with the rare and unfamiliar feeling of being cockblocked.
And under normal circumstances, Jim would have thought both scenarios completely inconceivable. Or if he had to make a choice, then he would have bet his money on the billionaire suffering from ant bites in his ass rather than consider the possibility of any sane woman saying no to Logan.
But these were not normal circumstances.
For starters, Logan had actually been sleeping on his office couch for the past six nights. It had made no sense at all, considering how much the man loved his ranch at Evergreen. Or if he didn’t think he could spare the time to travel in and out of San Antonio, then there was any number of hotels downtown to choose from. So why stay at the office, like he didn’t want to risk anyone thinking he wasn’t spending the night alone if he were to book a hotel suite?
It had puzzled Jim to no end until an hour ago, when he had received Mrs. Montgomery’s call about the nanny. All the puzzle pieces had quickly fallen into place after that, and so when said nanny finally arrived—
Logan came to his feet in an instant at Jim’s words. “The nanny is what?”
“Here, sir,” Logan’s 58-year-old executive assistant repeated with exaggerated patience. “She’s come here to see you, and she’s currently waiting for you at the lobby.”
The billionaire shoved his hands into his pockets in a futile effort to keep himself from driving his fist into something. “What the fuck is she here for?”
“Shall I instruct reception to ask this, or perhaps you’d prefer to have the nanny answer a questionnaire—”
“Will you quit it with the wisecracks?” Logan snarled.
“I’ll take that as a no then,” the older man answered imperturbably, and Logan could only grit his teeth as he watched Jim pick up the phone to call reception.
Tilly was here, he thought.
The woman whose exquisite curves he had been unable to get out of his mind ever since he first laid eyes on her. The woman—
“Send her up, please.”
—whom his executive assistant had just given the green light to present herself at his office.
What the fuck?
He shot a look of incredulity at Jim, but the damn man didn’t even blink, continuing on in his placid voice as he confirmed permission before ending the call. He turned to Logan then, saying politely, “She will be right up, sir.”
Logan scowled at the older man. “You were supposed to get rid of her, goddammit.”
“On the contrary, sir – Mrs. Montgomery called earlier and said that I was not to let anything prevent you from meeting the nanny.”
“Mrs. Montgomery isn’t your fucking boss,” Logan gritted out.
But Jim was acting like he hadn’t heard a single word the billionaire uttered. “If you’ll excuse me, sir.” He retreated from the room, his placid expression unchanging even as Logan threw a fulminating glare in his direction.
Damn old man knew he could get away with just about anything, being Logan’s first employee, one that had stood by him through thick and thin.
Logan began to pace, unable to think of a single reason that could sensibly explain Harry’s involvement. Like the nanny, Harry had married Devon through Heart’s Match, so could that be it? Birds from the same mail-order—
The door opened.
“Ms. Wakefield, sir.” Jim stepped back to let the nanny come through.
Her raven-black tresses had been tamed into a single ponytail, her mouth looked fuller and even more kissable than he remembered, and what the fuck was it with these dresses of hers? All of it seemed designed to make a man want to tear it off just to see her big breasts bounce free—
Shit. Calm the fuck down, Hardwall.
She was just the fucking nanny.
A nanny with his wedding ring, but still just the nanny.
Just the fucking nanny, dammit.
Good intentions, Tilly had to remind herself as she crossed the room to stand before him. She came here with good intentions – the very best, in fact – so there was nothing for her to worry about.