Mari was nervous. What if she admitted that she was attracted to him and he took advantage of her? What if he really was charming but selfish?

“Yes,” she said in answer to his question. If she wasn’t willing to be honest, what was the point?

He nodded, the line of his mouth firm. “Good.”

When his green eyes focused intently on her, desire skittered across her skin, settling deep inside her. No matter the cost, she would tell him the truth, tell him how she felt.

“I’m attracted to you, Mari,” he said, sending the butterflies in her belly into a full-on riot. “Maybe too much.”

Was that possible? To be attracted to someone too much? Holding back the smile that wanted to burst onto her mouth, she kept her gaze steady on him, mentally encouraging him to go on. To tell her what she’d been hoping to hear.

“You’re Harper’s nanny. You don’t work for me, but you work for London. That…well, that could be a problem.”

She knew that. First hand. She held back a frown.

One side of his mouth quirked up. “Of course, none of that matters if this…attraction…is one-sided.”

Okay. Time for her confession. She softly inhaled. “I’m attracted to you too, Hank.” Her smile blossomed.

His lips curved upward, making the lines around his eyes crinkle. Slowly nodding, he said, “Okay.”

“Mari,” a voice called from the living room. “Mari, I’m thirsty.”

Mari leapt to her feet at the sound of Harper’s voice, her gaze going to Hank. “I need to…”

He nodded. “We’ll finish our conversation later.”

Anticipation at having that conversation flooded her, then she turned and hurried inside. “I’m right here, Harper.”

Harper turned to her, her favorite blanket clutched in her arms. “I’m thirsty.”

“Okay. Let’s get you a drink of water.” Mari’s gaze went to Hank, who had walked inside.

“Daddy,” Harper said, running over to him.

He scooped her up.

Mari went into the kitchen and filled a small cup with cold water, then walked toward Hank and Harper. Now that they had declared their interest in each other the atmosphere between them was distinctly different. Where before there was the unknown, now there was a certain level of comfort, of familiarity, of knowing how they felt. Of electricity.

“Here you go,” Mari said as she handed the cup to Harper.

Harper took a few sips, then handed the cup back to Mari.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Hank said as he carried her toward the stairs.

Mari watched them ascend the staircase. Now what? When was Hank planning on continuing their conversation? Not sure, she went back outside. On impulse, she went into the art studio and turned on the lights. Walking over to the painting she’d been working on—a painting of Harper based on a photograph of the little girl—Mari squirted paint onto her palette, then picked up a brush.

* * *

“You need to stay in bed now, Princess Pink Rose,” Hank said as he settled Harper under her covers. “No more getting out of bed. Time to go to sleep.” He kissed her on the forehead, and when she closed her eyes and turned onto her side, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Smiling, he walked down the stairs and into the family room. His conversation with Mari was going well, and he was thrilled to know his instincts were correct, that she was attracted to him too.

Glancing around the room, he didn’t see her, and when he looked out back, he saw the lights on in the game room. Striding across the tiled patio, he was eager to continue their conversation, to see where things would lead.

“There you are,” he said as he walked into the game room.

She stood in front of a canvas, paint brush in hand, but from where he stood he couldn’t see what she was painting. Curious, he walked over to her and looked over her shoulder. It was a painting of Harper. He was no art aficionado, but even to his untrained eye he could see she was good.

“That looks just like her,” he said as he glanced at Mari. He lifted his hand and gestured toward the painting. “You’ve captured her…her essence, I guess.” He smiled at her. “It’s beautiful.”

Mari’s face lit up. “Thank you.”

Seeing the joy on her face, the delight, Hank wanted nothing more than to kiss her. But he didn’t. It was too soon. They’d barely admitted their attraction. He wasn’t going to jump in with a kiss just yet. Not until the moment felt right.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he said.

She dipped her head. “I wasn’t sure how long you would be, so I…” She glanced at the painting, then looked at him, her eyes wide.

This was fascinating, watching her work. More fascinating than he would have ever thought. And her reaction to his being there? Her shyness? Endearing.

“I’m just…I’m not used to an audience.” She softly chuckled. “Besides Harper.”

He got it, but he didn’t want to leave. He also didn’t want her to stop painting. Yes, he wanted her to pay attention to him, but he understood passion, understood the need to do what was driving you. He wanted to encourage her, not stop her for his own selfish reasons.

“What if I…” He pointed toward the pool table. “Shoot some pool while you work?”

* * *

Mari liked having him there, but she was self-conscious about him watching her paint. His suggestion was a good compromise. “Okay.”

He walked to the pool table, which was on the other side of the room. She adjusted her easel and canvas so that he wouldn’t be able to see her work, maybe not even see her face behind the easel, and she continued painting. As much as she loved painting side by side with Harper, being able to fully concentrate on her work was a luxury, and she took full advantage, the sound of Hank hitting the balls fading into the background.

Half an hour later she realized the room had gone silent. Lifting her head, she looked toward the pool table, but Hank wasn’t there. Had he left without saying good-night?

She walked to a window that looked toward the house, her gaze searching. The lights were on inside the house and the blinds were up, so she was able to see inside. That’s when she saw him. Talking to Simone. Her heart stuttered to a stop, then began to pound.

What was Simone doing there?