ABOUT THE BOOK
Lexington Dane was my brother’s best friend growing up.
We did everything together.
He taught me how to throw a punch, how to change a tire . . . and he taught me how to kiss. I fell hard and fast, and gave him all my firsts.
I promised I’d wait for him . . .
But I’m done waiting, because he went off to college and never came back. He took his fancy business degree and moved to New York City, where he promptly became a real estate mogul—turning every penthouse and apartment project he touched into gold.
It’s been ten years, and now he’s back and needs a favor . . . someone to watch his little girl. That’s right, the cocky penthouse prince and heartbreaker extraordinaire Lexington is back with an adorable two-year-old daughter. Guess who he wants to watch her?
I’ve never been able to say no to him. I might agree to be the nanny for his precious little angel, but there’s no way in hell I’m falling for her hot-as-sin daddy.
1
* * *
LEXINGTON
I could think of about a million other things I’d rather be doing than sitting here listening to my friends bitch about the sad state of my social life.
Get a rectal exam.
Wait in line at the DMV.
Clean the toilets at the local diner after chili night.
Yeah, any of those would rank higher than hearing my friends question me about the last time I went out and did something that was just for me.
“Will you guys please just drop it?” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Hell no, we won’t.” Bryce smirks, taking another sip of the single-malt Scotch in front of him. I braced for whatever is going to come flying out of his mouth next. “When’s the last time you’ve been on a date?”
I hesitate, curling my hand around the glass in front of me and choosing to avoid their eyes. I knew my dating life or lack thereof would be brought up.
And to be honest, I can’t quite remember the last time I took out a woman. At least, a grown woman who wasn’t my two-year-old daughter. She and I go out together and do things all the time. Does visiting the pediatrician count? We go to the library story’s time, and we take walks in the park. Just this morning, we went to the farmers’ market together. We do plenty.
I shrug.
Devin leans forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Better question is—plug your ears, Lesley—when’s the last time you got some pussy?”
Bryce’s wife cringes but shakes her head at Devin. “You don’t have to censor yourselves on my behalf.”
Since I settled in New York a few years ago and met Bryce and Devin at my building’s gym, we became good friends and regularly meet for dinner or drinks. Bryce got married last year to his longtime girlfriend, Lesley, and now she’s a regular addition to our boys’ nights.
I heave out a sigh and rub at the sore spot on my neck. “It’s kinda difficult with a two-year-old at home.”
What they don’t understand about that, I’ll never know.
Oh yeah, it’s because neither of them has kids. There’s not so much as a pet goldfish between them.
Dumbasses.
They have no idea what my days are like. Wake up at dawn, get my baby girl ready for her day, then work my ass off to create a good life for us, then I basically drop into bed at night exhausted and pass out until my alarm goes off again. My schedule doesn’t exactly leave room to wine and dine members of the opposite sex, even if I wanted it to.
“Don’t tell me.” Devin grimaces. “You haven’t—plug your ears, Lesley—fucked anyone since the egg donor.”
Lesley rolls her eyes, then gives me a look of sympathy.
That’s what they call the mother of my child, the egg donor, since she didn’t want to be part of Grier’s life at all. She never wanted children, and as soon as Grier was born and placed in my arms, she split and hasn’t been in contact since. Which is for the best, as far as I can tell. She and I weren’t in love, weren’t even really a couple. She was just a hot attorney who worked almost as much as I did, and happened to like no-strings sex. What we had worked—until two pink lines appeared on a pregnancy test and then everything turned upside down.
“Your dick is going to fall off from lack of use, man,” Devin says with a smirk.
Not likely. My social life might be dead, but my sex drive sure as fuck isn’t. I still jerk it every morning in the shower. Just because I don’t have a willing partner doesn’t mean I don’t get horny. Of course I do. And if these assholes had any tact at all, they wouldn’t rub it in my goddamn face.
Bryce waves one hand in my general direction, squinting at me as he says to Devin, “Be nice to the guy. Maybe women just aren’t into the whole single-dad, workaholic vibe he’s got going on. Plus, he could really use a haircut and that shirt he is wearing is on the questionable side of fashion.”
There isn’t a damn thing wrong with my hair. I get it cut every four weeks like clockwork, and my shirt? It was black, tailored, expensive as hell and I have had no complaints about it before. Fuck them.
“You guys understand that I’m sitting right here, right?”
Unfazed, they shrug, and continue right on.
I drain the last of my Scotch and stand, tossing a couple of bills onto the table to cover the cost of my drink. “As much as I’ve enjoyed your running commentary on my love life, hair and fashion choices, I need to get home and relieve the sitter. ’Night, boys. Lesley.” I tip my chin toward her.
She smiles at me. “Don’t listen to these idiots, Lexington. Any woman alive would be lucky to have you—and the beautiful little angel waiting for you at home.”
I chuckle. “Thanks. But she’d better not be waiting up for me at home. If I have to read that Happy Sunshine Bear book one more time, I’m going to throw myself out the fucking window.”
To a chorus of laughter, I head off into the night.
• • •
“Daddy! I’m awaaaaake!” my daughter hollers from her perch atop my stomach.
I jolt and crack my eyes open, looking first at her grinning face, then at the clock. “Grier, it’s five thirty.” Admittedly, my alarm will go off in only half an hour, but I was up later than usual last night, and I cherish every second of sleep I can get.
She bounces, forcing an oof from me. “Hungwy.”
I guess I’m going to have to start getting used to the fact I now have a toddler and not a baby anymore. Ever since I moved her from a crib to a toddler bed, she’s been getting up earlier and earlier, and her morning greetings are not only becoming earlier but also louder.
“Okay, baby girl, let’s get up and make some breakfast.” I set her down on the floor so I can climb out of bed.
I change her diaper, pour her a sippy cup of milk, and cut up half a banana to tide her over until I can cook her favorite breakfast; eggs. With Grier focused on her favorite cartoons, I check my phone quickly. Seven voice mails, ten texts, and almost thirty new emails. How the hell did so much happen before the sun even rose? But when you own as many properties as I do, it’s to be expected.
I tackle the easiest texts and emails while brushing my teeth and shaving, then take a lightning-fast shower while praying Grier doesn’t do anything crazy until I can get my eyes back on her. When I emerge from dressing for work, she’s careening around the living room, and I notice she’s eaten only two banana slices. But nothing seems broken, and I can’t bring myself to get into a battle of wills right now.