The Billionaire's Christmas Baby
The maid, the billionaire…and the babyHotel maid Sunny Raye only went to Max Grayland’s hotel suite to clean—and found herself calming a tiny abandoned baby! With just days until Christmas, the gorgeous but bewildered billionaire demands Sunny help him care for Phoebe over the holidays. She agrees—but only if they spend Christmas with her family!Max is totally out of his comfort zone, but warm-hearted Sunny is a revelation. And Max finds he wants more than a nanny for Phoebe…he wants Sunny to lighten his life for ever.
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The maid, the billionaire...and the baby
Hotel maid Sunny Raye only went to Max Grayland’s hotel suite to clean—and found herself calming a tiny abandoned baby! With just days until Christmas, the gorgeous but bewildered billionaire demands Sunny help him care for Phoebe over the holidays. She agrees—only if they spend Christmas with her family!
Max is totally out of his comfort zone, but warmhearted Sunny is a revelation. And Max finds he wants more than a nanny for Phoebe—he wants Sunny to lighten his life forever.
Phoebe was still awake, nestled in his arms, gazing upward as if trying to make sense of this man who was holding her.
This man sitting beside Sunny.
They were sitting at the end of the pew, in case Phoebe decided to roar and they had to take her out.
Anyone looking at her and at Max might think...
Don’t go there, Sunny thought. This was a fantasy. There’d never been time or space for her to think of a love life.
She gazed down at her hands, at the lines and calluses formed by years of hard work, at the absence of rings. She stretched them out and suddenly, astonishingly, Max’s fingers were closing over hers.
‘Good hands,’ he said in an undervoice. ‘Honourable hands.’
She should... She didn’t know what she should do. Had he known what she was thinking? How many hands had this man seen that looked like hers? None.
She should tug her hand back and the contact would be over. That was the sensible course, the only course, but she couldn’t quite manage it. His clasp was warm and strong. Good.
Fantasy enveloped her again for a moment, insidious in its sweetness. To keep sitting here, to feel the peace of this moment, this place, this man...
MARION LENNOX has written more than one hundred romances, and is published in over a hundred countries and thirty languages. Her multiple awards include the prestigious RITA® Award (twice), and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for ‘a body of work which makes us laugh and teaches us about love’. Marion adores her family, her kayak, her dog— and lying on the beach with a book someone else has written. Heaven!
Praise for
Marion Lennox
‘The story is one of a kind and very interesting. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.’
—Goodreads on
Stranded with the Secret Billionaire
Contents
SHE’D FORGOTTEN GRAN’S cherry liqueur chocolates.
No!
Sunny Raye abandoned her scrubbing and gave in to the horror of her memory lapse. The discount store near home brought in mountains of chocolates for Christmas. They were cheap and delicious, but they’d be sold out by now.
It was ten at night and she was bone-weary. She’d agreed to work overtime because she needed the pay—Christmas was expensive—but all she wanted now was her bed. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and she was rostered to work again from eight to five. Where could she find time to buy Gran’s chocolates, and how much would she need to spend?
Aaagh!
‘How long does it take to scrub one floor?’
Uh-oh.
The stain on the tiles was hard against the bathroom door. She hadn’t been able to shut it, which meant she was in full view of the guest sitting at the desk. He was annoyed? The feeling was mutual. This was a job for Maintenance, not for a scrubbing brush.
But Sunny’s job was to make the guest feel that this was a scrubbed stain rather than a missed-by-Housekeeping stain. Keep him happy at all costs—that had been the order. When Max Grayland was in town the hotel fell over itself to make sure all was right with his world. Heads would roll over this stain, but it wouldn’t be her head.
Enough. She dried the floor with care, then rose. Oh, her knees hurt, but perky must be maintained.
‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ she told him brightly, as if this was the start of her shift rather than two hours after she was supposed to be gone. ‘It appears to be a bleach stain, possibly from hair dye. It should have been noticed and I apologise that it wasn’t. I can arrange for the tile to be replaced now, if you like.’
Ross in Maintenance would kill her, but she had to offer.
‘However, it’ll involve noise and you may wish us to leave it until morning,’ she added. ’Meanwhile, I can assure you it’s clean and totally hygienic.’
‘Leave it then.’ Max Grayland pushed the documents he’d been working on aside and rose, and she sensed he was almost as weary as she was. With reason? She knew he’d flown in from New York this morning, but Max Grayland crossed the globe at will. Surely travelling in first-class luxury prevented jet lag?
How would she know? Sunny had never flown in her life.
But he did look tired. Rumpled.
He was a financial whiz, she’d been told, a man in his mid-thirties, at the top of his game. The media described him as a legal eagle, and that was what he looked like. He was tall, dark and imposing, with deep, hooded eyes and a body that seemed toned to the point of impossible.
