The Irish Prince (The Billionaire Dynasties)(6)

By: Virginia Nelson


She turned to Aiden, already angry at him, like he’d set her up, but to his credit, he was shaking his head. “That’s up to Chelsea.”

Wow. So the guy could think about someone other than himself. Maybe. If this wasn’t some genius strategy to get her to come along anyway.

“I just don’t see that being a good idea,” Chelsea said. “But tell you what? I’ll think about it. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go powder my nose.”

“What does that mean?” Waverley asked.

Not interested in how Aiden might reply, Chelsea made her exit swiftly. Shit. Well, by the time she returned, maybe the father-daughter duo would’ve abandoned her office, and she could get back to finishing out her two weeks in peace. Scrolling through her phone as she headed to the restrooms, she checked her email really quickly and then noticed a text message from her father.

Her dad? Was awesome. Chelsea was not a lot older than Waverley when her mom passed away and Chelsea’s dad took over as a single parent. And, well, he’d rocked at the job, even while Chelsea’s mom was still alive but sick. He’d been the kind of father who learned how to braid her hair so that she’d look as “pretty” as her friends. He’d let her polish his nails. Hell, he’d gone shopping with her on more than one occasion. Her dad rocked.

Comparing him to what kind of a father Aiden would become… Shit, the guy was in trouble. There was no way he’d ever manage to go from a perfect stranger to being the kind of father Waverley deserved—that any little girl deserved—without a lot of guidance and support.

But who would help him until he found his way and place in her life?

Not me, she decided. No way in hell am I signing up for that job.

There were about a hundred reasons she should back away quickly from the whole situation. For one, Aiden was her boss, but she’d told him she was quitting. And even if she wasn’t on her way out the door, mixing business with pleasure was always a bad idea. In this case, her time remaining with the company would be far better spent interviewing possible candidates for her job and then training the new hire. Not gallivanting off on a personal trip with her soon-to-be-former boss.

For two, she was already attracted to the man. She knew that and recognized the weakness it represented. Spending alone time with him, intimate time when the line between boss and employee blurred…unwise, to say the least. It would be one giant mind game with herself to continue to recognize that Aiden was not the man for her.

Even if he did have one of the best asses she’d ever seen in a suit. She couldn’t begin to imagine what those broad shoulders of his would look like out of said suit.

Well, hell, that was a lie. She could imagine and had spent many a bored hour between meetings doing just that.

Further, if she agreed to this trip, who would keep things going in the office? Just the day-to-day stuff in the interim would be enough reason for her not to leave the office, especially if he was out and off the map for the duration of his little adventure.

That last one seemed rather feeble, even to herself. But the one reason she couldn’t deny? Even if she removed every single reason why dating him was a bad idea, she was gone in two weeks. And as much as she’d love to taste his body as many times as she could before she left, she wasn’t about to rock a ship that had just taken on board his newfound daughter.

So, as she rested her hand on her office door, she braced herself to go inside. The answer was a no, plain and simple, nothing more to think about. She simply couldn’t afford to cave and agree to go on this trip with Aiden and Waverley.

She opened the door and saw Waverley looking at her father like he was nuts and him pouring the kid a cappuccino. The scone in front of Waverley sat untouched, and the child gazed at Chelsea as if she was a savior—come to rescue her from the inept handling of her well-meaning father.

“Whatcha doing, Aiden?” Chelsea asked, although it looked pretty clear. He was trying to offer his ten-year-old daughter coffee and a scone for lunch.

Although that same lunch would’ve been top ten on Chelsea’s list of lunch favorites, she somehow doubted—both from the kid’s expression and logic—that it was typically served to her at home or elsewhere.

“We’re about to have lunch. I was hoping you’d join us so we could revisit the Grand Canyon discussion.” He looked so damned adorable and unaware as he was fumbling that a piece of her heart melted, just a little.

I know I’m going to regret this.

“I’ve decided I’ll go on the trip.” Picking up her office phone, she glanced at Waverley. “What kind of pizza do you like, kid?”