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Billionaire's Jet Set Babies & The Nanny Bombshell: Billionaire's Jet Set Babies / The Nanny Bombshell
Michelle Celmer
Catherine Mann
Two fan-favorite stories of powerful men…wrapped around their babies' little fingersBillionaire's Jet Set Babies by Catherine MannWhile cleaning a jet for entrepreneur Seth Jansen, Alexa Randall finds the strangest items: his one-year-old twins! Seth needs a temporary nanny; Alexa needs time for a one-on-one business pitch. So she says yes to an intimate stay on a lush Florida island–and yes to the man whose passion makes her question the choices she's made.The Nanny Bombshell by Michelle CelmerWhen Sierra Evans gave her twins up for adoption, she didn't expect tragedy to leave them in the care of their uncle, Coop Landon–a notorious playboy. Now Sierra will stop at nothing to protect her children–even if it means going undercover as the perfect nanny. But she doesn't expect the sizzling attraction that develops between her and Coop!
Two fan-favorite stories of powerful men…wrapped around their babies’ little fingers
Billionaire’s Jet Set Babies by Catherine Mann
While cleaning a jet for entrepreneur Seth Jansen, Alexa Randall finds the strangest items: his one-year-old twins! Seth needs a temporary nanny; Alexa needs time for a one-on-one business pitch. So she says yes to an intimate stay on a lush Florida island—and yes to the man whose passion makes her question the choices she’s made.
The Nanny Bombshell by Michelle Celmer
When Sierra Evans gave her twins up for adoption, she didn’t expect tragedy to leave them in the care of their uncle, Coop Landon—a notorious playboy. Now Sierra will stop at nothing to protect her children—even if it means going undercover as the perfect nanny. But she doesn’t expect the sizzling attraction that develops between her and Coop!
THE BILLIONAIRE AND BABIES COLLECTION
The men in this special 2-in-1 collection rule their worlds with authority and determination. They’re comfortable commanding those around them and aren’t afraid to be ruthless if necessary. Independent and self-reliant, they are content with their money and lack of commitment.
Then the babies enter their lives and, before they know it, these powerful men are wrapped around their babies’ little fingers!
With the babies comes the awareness of what else might be missing. Seems the perfect time for these billionaires to find the women who will love them forever.
Join us for two passionate, provocative stories where billionaires encounter the women—and babies—who will make them complete!
If you love these two classic stories, be sure to look for more Billionaires and Babies books from Harlequin Desire.
Billionaire's Jet Set Babies & The Nanny Bombshell
Billionaire's Jet Set Babies
Catherine Mann
The Nanny Bombshell
Michelle Celmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
BILLIONAIRE’S JET SET BABIES (#u0940739c-6912-553b-a6e4-5eca5375aee4)
Catherine Mann
THE NANNY BOMBSHELL (#litres_trial_promo)
Michelle Celmer
Billionaire’s Jet Set Babies
To Amelia Richard: a treasured reader, reviewer and friend. Thank you for all you’ve done to help spread the word about my stories. You’re awesome!
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u1c0e38b6-58fe-52c6-b53a-489f4894db73)
Chapter 2 (#u6cbe3987-9932-5ab6-896f-2b5e13a2cbca)
Chapter 3 (#u43fe96a3-8a5b-51f0-a8d7-498c590dfeba)
Chapter 4 (#u7e4f3edb-1e51-5737-91ef-2d4602da4d82)
Chapter 5 (#u4a8f08de-8de3-50f4-aa11-8565ac4d84e2)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1
Alexa Randall had accumulated an eclectic boxful of lost and found items since opening her own cleaning company for charter jets. There were the standard smart phones, portfolios, tablets, even a Patek Philippe watch. She’d returned each to its owner.
Then there were the stray panties and men’s boxers, even the occasional sex toys from Mile High Club members. All of those items, she’d picked up with latex gloves and tossed in the trash.
But today marked a first find ever in the history of A-1 Aircraft Cleaning Services. Never before had she found a baby left on board—actually, two babies.
Her bucket of supplies dropped to the industrial blue carpet with a heavy thud that startled the sleeping pair. Yep, two infants, apparently twins with similar blond curly hair and cherub cheeks. About one year old, perhaps? A boy and a girl, it seemed, gauging from their pink and blue smocked outfits and gender-matched car seats.
Tasked to clean the jet alone, Alexa had no one to share her shock with. She flipped on another table lamp in the main compartment of the sleek private jet, the lighting in the hangar sketchy at best even at three in the afternoon.
Both kids were strapped into car seats resting on the leather sofa along the side of the plane, which was Seth Jansen’s personal aircraft. As in the Seth Jansen of Jansen Jets. The self-made billionaire who’d raked in a fortune inventing some must-have security device for airports to help combat possible terrorist attacks on planes during takeoffs and landings. She admired the man’s entrepreneurial spirit.
Landing his account would be her company’s big break. She needed this first cleaning of his aircraft to go off without a hitch.
Tiny fists waved for a second, slowing, lowering, until both babies began to settle back to sleep. Another huffy sigh shuddered through the girl before her breaths evened out. Her little arm landed on a piece of paper safety-pinned to the girl’s hem.
Narrowing her eyes, Alexa leaned forward and read:
Seth,
You always say you want more time with the twins, so here’s your chance. Sorry for the short notice, but a friend surprised me with a two-week spa retreat. Enjoy your “daddy time” with Olivia and Owen!
XOXO,
Pippa
Pippa?
Alexa straightened again, horrified. Really? Really!
Pippa Jansen, as in the ex-Mrs. Jansen, had dumped off her infants on their father’s jet. Unreal. Alexa stuffed her fists into the pockets of her navy chinos, standard uniform for A-1 cleaning staff along with a blue polo shirt bearing the company’s logo.
And who signed a note to their obviously estranged baby daddy with kisses and hugs? Alexa sank down into a fat chair across from the pint-size passengers. Bigger question of the day, who left babies unattended on an airplane?
A crappy parent, that’s who.
The rich and spoiled rotten, who played by their own rules, a sad reality she knew only too well from growing up in that world. People had told her how lucky she was as a kid—lucky to have a dedicated nanny that she spent more time with than she did with either of her parents.
The best thing that had ever happened to her? Her father bankrupted the family’s sportswear chain—once worth billions, now worth zip. That left Alexa the recipient of a trust fund from Grandma containing a couple of thousand dollars.
She’d used the money to buy a partnership in a cleaning service about to go under because the aging owner could no longer carry the workload on her own. Bethany—her new partner—had been grateful for Alexa’s energy and the second chance for A-1 Aircraft Cleaning Services to stay afloat. Using Alexa’s contacts from her family’s world of luxury and extravagance she had revitalized the struggling business. Alexa’s ex-husband, Travis, had been appalled by her new occupation and offered to help out financially so she wouldn’t have to work.
She would rather scrub toilets.
And the toilet on this particular Gulfstream III jet was very important to her. She had to land the Jansen Jet contract and hopefully this one-time stint would impress him enough to cinch the deal. Her business needed this account to survive, especially in today’s tough economy. If she failed, she could lose everything and A-1 might well face Chapter 11 bankruptcy. She’d hardly believed her luck when she’d been asked by another cleaning company to subcontract out on one of the Jansen Jets—this jet.
Now that she’d found these two babies, she was screwed. She swept particles of sand from the seat into her hand, eyed the fingerprints on the windows, could almost feel the grit rising from the carpet fiber. But she couldn’t just clean up, restock the Evian water and pretend these kids weren’t here. She needed to contact airport security, which was going to land Jansen’s ex-wife in hot water, possibly him as well. That would piss off Jansen. And the jet still wouldn’t be serviced. And then he would never consider her for the contract.
Frustration and a hefty dose of anger stung stronger than a bucket full of ammonia. Scratch cleaning detail for now, scratch cinching this deal that would finally take her company out of the red. She had to locate the twins’ father ASAP.
Alexa unclipped the cell phone from her waist and thumbed her directory to find the number for Jansen Jets, which she happened to have since she’d been trying to get through to the guy for a month. She’d never made it further than his secretary, who’d agreed to pass along Alexa’s business prospectus.
She eyed the sleeping babies. Maybe some good could come from this mess after all.
Today, she would finally have the chance to talk to the boss, just not how she’d planned and not in a way that would put him in a receptive mood…
The phone stopped ringing as someone picked up.
“Jansen Jets, please hold.” As quickly as the thick female Southern drawl answered, the line clicked and Muzak filled the air waves with soulless contemporary tunes.
A squawk from one of the car seats drew her attention. She looked up fast to see Olivia wriggling in her seat, kicking free a Winnie the Pooh blanket. The little girl spit out her Piglet pacifier and whimpered, getting louder until her brother scrunched up his face, blinking awake and none too happy. His Eeyore pacifier dangled from a clip attached to his blue sailor outfit.
Two pairs of periwinkle-blue eyes stared at her, button noses crinkled. Owen’s eyes filled with tears. Olivia’s bottom lip thrust outward again.
Tucking the Muzak-humming phone under her chin, Alexa hefted the iconic Burberry plaid diaper bag off the floor.
“Hey there, little ones,” she said in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone. She’d spent so little time around babies she could only hope she pegged it right. “I know, I know, sweetie, I’m a stranger, but I’m all you’ve got right now.”
And how crummy was that? She stifled another spurt of anger at the faceless Pippa who’d dropped her children off like luggage. When had the spa-hopping mama expected their father to locate them?
“I’m assuming you’re Olivia.” Alexa tickled the bare foot of the girl wearing a pink smocked dress.
Olivia giggled, and Alexa pulled the pink lace bootie from the baby’s mouth. Olivia thrust out her bottom lip—until Alexa unhooked a teething ring from the diaper bag and passed it over to the chubby-cheeked girl.
“And you must be Owen.” She tweaked his blue tennis shoe—still on his foot as opposed to his sister who was ditching her other booty across the aisle with the arm of a major league pitcher. “Any idea where your daddy is? Or how much longer he’ll be?”
She’d been told by security she had about a half hour to service the inside of the jet in order to be out before Mr. Jansen arrived. As much as she would have liked to meet him, it was considered poor form for the cleaning staff to still be on hand. She’d expected her work and a business card left on the silver drink tray to speak for itself.
So much for her well laid plans.
She scooped up a baby blanket from the floor, folded it neatly and placed it on the couch. She smoothed back Owen’s sweaty curls. Going quiet, he stared back at her just as the on hold Muzak cued up “Sweet Caroline”—the fourth song so far. Apparently she’d been relegated to call waiting purgatory.
How long until the kids got hungry? She peeked into the diaper bag for supplies. Maybe she would luck out and find more contact info along the way. Sippy cups of juice, powdered formula, jars of food and diapers, diapers, diapers…
The clank of feet on the stairway outside yanked her upright. She dropped the diaper bag and spun around fast, just as a man filled the open hatch. A tall and broad-shouldered man.
He stood with the sun backlighting him, casting his face in mysterious shadows.
Alexa stepped in front of the babies instinctively, protectively. “Good afternoon. What can I do for you?”
Silently he stepped deeper into the craft until overhead lights splashed over his face and she recognized him from her internet searches. Seth Jansen, founder and CEO of Jansen Jets.
Relief made her knees wobbly. She’d been saved from a tough decision by Jansen’s early arrival. And, wow, did the guy ever know how to make an entrance.
From press shots she’d seen he was good-looking, with a kind of matured Abercrombie & Fitch beach hunk appeal. But no amount of Google Images could capture the impact of this tremendously attractive self-made billionaire in person.
Six foot three or four, he filled the charter jet with raw muscled man. He wasn’t some pale pencil pusher. He was more the size of a keen-eyed lumberjack, in a suit. An expensive, tailored suit.
The previously spacious cabin now felt tight. Intimate.
His sandy-colored hair—thick without being shaggy—sported sun-kissed streaks of lighter blond, the kind that came naturally from being outside rather than sitting in a salon chair. His tan and toned body gave further testimony to that. No raccoon rings around the eyes from tanning bed glasses. The scent of crisp air clung to him, so different from the boardroom aftershaves of her father and her ex. She scrunched her nose at even the memory of cloying cologne and cigars.
Even his eyes spoke of the outdoors. They were the same vibrant green she’d once seen in the waters off the Caribbean coast of St. Maarten, the sort of sparkling green that made you want to dive right into their cool depths. She turned shivery all over just thinking about taking a swim in those pristine waters.
She seriously needed to lighten up on the cleaning supply fumes. How unprofessional to stand here and gawk like a sex-starved divorcée—which she was.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jansen. I’m Alexa Randall with A-1 Aircraft Cleaning Services.”
He shrugged out of his suit jacket, gray pinstripe and almost certainly an Ermenegildo Zegna, a brand known for its no-nonsense look. Expensive. Not surprising.
His open shirt collar, with his burgundy tie loosened did surprise her, however. Overall, she got the impression of an Olympic swimmer confined in an Italian suit.
“Right.” He checked his watch—the only non-GQ item on him. He wore what appeared to be a top-of-the-line diver’s timepiece. “I’m early, I know, but I need to leave right away so if you could speed this up, I would appreciate it.”
Jansen charged by, not even hesitating as he passed the two tykes. His tykes.
She cleared her throat. “You have a welcoming crew waiting for you.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken.” He stowed his briefcase, his words clipped. “I’m flying solo today.”
