“Should we show Mari your princess room?” Hank said as he set Harper on the ground, the exhaustion he’d felt after practice beginning to evaporate with his daughter’s enthusiasm for all things princess.

“Yes yes yes! My princess room!” Harper fairly danced with joy.

Laughing, he took her hand and walked toward the house, feeling more than seeing that Mari was following them. Later that evening he wanted to talk to her, get to know her. It wasn’t that he distrusted London’s judgment, but he had to know for himself that this Marigold woman was qualified to take care of his sweet Harper.

After walking through the front door, he held it open for Mari, noticing again how petite she was. A fresh floral scent followed in her wake, and Hank found himself inhaling more deeply.

Step back. She’s your daughter’s nanny.

* * *

The inside of Hank’s house was just as beautiful as the outside. Did he have an eye for design? No, of course not. The man was a running back for the Sacramento Vipers, not an interior designer. He’d obviously hired someone.

But Mari loved the feel of the interior—distinctly masculine, yet warm and inviting. The circular entry featured stone-covered floors and walls as well as a soaring ceiling. A doorway to the left led to a kitchen, but she barely glanced inside as Hank walked through an arched doorway and into a cozy sitting room with French doors that led to a stunning backyard. Mari was eager to explore, but before she could get a look outside, Hank began ascending a staircase. Hurrying to keep up, when they reached the landing—a large open space—Mari saw a room across the way that could only be Harper’s.

“Mari, come see my room!” Harper dashed to Mari’s side and slipped her hand into Mari’s before tugging her forward.

Happy to comply, Mari threw a small smile at Hank—she didn’t want him to feel supplanted by her—and allowed Harper to lead her into her pink palace.

“This is my princess bed,” Harper said, her eyes wide and sparkling, her hand still gripping Mari’s as they stood beside a white four-poster bed. “And this is my special princess pillow.”

Mari looked at all the pinks and purples and lace and tulle and could see why Harper loved it. A mural of castles and princesses adorned two walls, and a painting of a tree with a bounty of apples filled a third.

“It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen,” Mari said, her voice hushed as she smiled at Harper. “You really are Princess Pink Rose, aren’t you?”

Nodding solemnly, Harper looked from Mari to Hank. “I am Princess Pink Rose, right, Daddy?”

“Of course you are.” He scooped her into his arms. “And is Princess Pink Rose hungry?”

Her lips formed a half-frown as she nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, we can’t have that. I’ll ask Mrs. Stillman to fix you something to eat. How about that?”

“Are you going to eat with me?”

“Yes.”

“Is Mari going to eat with me?”

Hank looked at Mari, but Mari didn’t say a thing. At London’s house, when London was home at dinner time, she often invited Mari to join her and Harper. Still, Mari didn’t expect it.

* * *

Hank had no problem with Harper’s nanny joining them. It would give him more time to see how she interacted with Harper. Raising his eyebrows in Mari’s direction, Hank asked, “Does Mari want to eat with us?”

Smiling, she said, “Sure. Thank you.”

Hank knelt in front of Harper. “Let’s show Mari where her room is, and then after you both get settled, we’ll eat.”

“I want to show her,” Harper said, then she raced to Mari’s side and slipped her hand into hers.

There was no doubt that his daughter had bonded with Mari. Hank sincerely hoped the woman—girl?—was truly qualified. “Okay. Lead the way, Harper.”

“You didn’t call me Princess Pink Rose.” Disappointment shone from her eyes.

Shaking his head as he softly chuckled, he said, “So sorry, Princess Pink Rose. I’ll try to do better.”

Her face brightened, then she looked up at Mari. “You should be Princess Orange Marigold.”

Mari laughed and knelt in front of her. “You know what? I’m a secret princess, and no one but you and your dad can know, so you should just call me Mari. Okay?”

Harper’s eyes widened. “I won’t tell a secret.”

“Okay. Now, where is this room of mine?”

Hank had to admit, Mari was beginning to grow on him. She was so sweet with Harper. And clever too.

Letting Harper lead the way, he walked behind her and Mari, smiling at their interlocked hands. And not able to stop himself from noticing the way Mari’s hips gently swayed in a most alluring way.

* * *

“Your room is right next to mine,” Harper said, her voice vibrant.

Mari smiled down at her. “That’s perfect.” Then she looked at the space that she would call home.

The room was pretty, yet simple. Nestled against one wall was a queen bed with a lavender comforter and several plump pillows, and across from it sat a matching dresser. A bathroom was attached to the room, and along another wall was a set of French doors that led onto a small balcony.

Mari’s gaze went to the large tree outside the balcony—like living in a treehouse. Her room at London’s house was larger, but this room held a certain charm that appealed to her. Anyway, it didn’t matter. She was there to take care of Harper—she wasn’t on vacation. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad it meets with your approval,” Hank said.

Mari spun around. She’d almost forgotten he was there. His striking green eyes were focused solely on her, and that butterfly in her belly was joined by another.

“My room’s prettier,” Harper said matter-of-factly.

Glancing at Hank, Mari laughed. “Yes. Your room is the prettiest of all.”

“Because I’m a princess.”

Hank lifted Harper into his arms. “A princess who needs to eat.” Then he turned to Mari. “I’ll bring your bags up, and after you both get settled, come down to the dining room.” He set Harper down. “Harper—I mean Princess Pink Rose—knows where it is.”

Harper giggled and Mari nodded.

Moments later he was gone.

She found she was looking forward to dinner.