didn’t plan to hire Annalise Stefano, despite the urge to do just that. The first and most important was that she didn’t have the necessary experience. Good instincts, but little hands-on practice. What if Mrs. Locke decided Annalise wasn’t knowledgeable enough? He’d have precisely one shot at this. If the caseworker gave the thumbs-down, he couldn’t run out and find a replacement bride. No, whoever he chose would have to be as close to perfect as possible.
The second reason he hesitated was the attraction he felt toward Annalise. It didn’t bode well for a successful working relationship and threatened unending complications down the road. Plus, it didn’t make sense to keep such blatant temptation in his home. Too risky.
He flipped the file closed. “I appreciate you coming in for this interview.”
She fought to maintain her composure. “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?” A dark, husky note slipped into her voice and he gained the impression that she’d pinned a lot of hopes on this job. “You’re not going to hire me.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Stefano.” He let her down as gently as possible. “You’ve only just completed your studies. You haven’t had any practical experience. I need someone who’s actually worked with children like Isabella.”
She didn’t argue, although he suspected she wanted to. “If you change your mind, you have my number.” She stood and approached his desk, holding out her hand. “Thank you for considering me, Mr. Mason.”
He took her hand again, experiencing that same oddly appealing dichotomy of strength overlaying fragility. Of vulnerability warring with quiet determination. He didn’t doubt she’d have thrown her heart and soul into helping Isabella, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was making a horrible mistake in not choosing her. He deliberately quashed any doubts. Doubts equaled weakness, and he learned at his father’s knee never to allow weakness to influence a business decision.
Releasing Annalise’s hand, he picked up the list of applicants and escorted her to the door. He opened it and froze. The outer office was deserted. Not a single person remained.
“Well, hell.”
Annalise planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the empty chairs. “I don’t suppose you’d care to reconsider that job offer?”
What choice did he have? Time was of the essence and Annalise had come close—very, very close—to fitting the profile he needed for both a nanny and a wife. “As a matter of fact, I would like to reconsider.”
She nodded. “I thought you might.” Her brilliant smile transformed her appearance once again. “When would you like me to start?”
In the distance, a shriek of anger penetrated the walls. Jack released an exhausted sigh. “Is now too soon?”
“That depends.”
He regarded her warily. “On what?”
“Before I give you my answer, I’d like to get the opinion of one of the top businessmen in the country.” She slanted him a teasing glance. “Would this be a good time to ask for a raise?”
Nothing about the events of today were funny, and yet he found himself grinning, anyway. “I’m sorry to say that now would be an excellent time.” He waved her back toward the chair in front of his desk. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while we discuss an early-start bonus.”
Two
Mary opened the door to Jack’s office and regarded him with sympathetic eyes. “Ms. Stefano has asked to see you,” his assistant informed him. “Sorry, boss.”
He checked his watch. His brand-new nanny-slash-prospective-wife-to-be had lasted all of thirty minutes. He’d hoped for longer, but he was a realistic man. Isabella had driven away the best of the best. What chance did someone with Annalise’s lack of experience stand?
“Does she have Isabella with her?”
“No. She requested that the babysitter stay. He’s keeping an eye on your niece for the moment.”
Jack sighed. “Send her in.”
Annalise appeared a moment later, entering with that loose, hip-swing stride he found so attractive. More curls had escaped the tidy knot, bubbling down her back and around her face in gay abandon. Her startling eyes, now a darker shade of honey-gold, were tarnished with concern.
“Mr. Mason—”
“Might as well make it Jack.”
She nodded impatiently. “This isn’t working, Jack.”
“I have to admit. You disappoint me.” He leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against the leather armrest. “You also win the prize for shortest nanny on record.”
She froze, blinking her long sooty lashes at him. “Shortest—” Her breath exploded in a short laugh. “No, you don’t understand. I’m not quitting. I’d like to get Isabella out of here. We need to