‘It’s not my baby!’

She ignored the savage growl from behind. She was too busy salvaging her career to care.

‘I’ll talk to you later,’ Brent told her, in the tone used the world over to convey menace to underlings when on the surface all had to be rosy. ‘Wait for me before you leave.’ And he turned to Max and put on his full managerial, ingratiating smile. ‘Now, sir...’

She was free. She’d have to wait in the change room for Brent to tell her what he thought of her but at least she was out of here. She grabbed her trusty mop and bucket and headed for the fire stairs. No elevator was going to be fast enough.

‘Stop her.’

‘Sir?’ Brent sounded confused. Sunny had almost reached the stairs. Almost gone...

‘If you’re here to tell me there’s no babysitting service available, I want this woman to stay,’ Max snapped. ‘And I’m prepared to pay whatever it takes to keep her.’

Brent hadn’t got where he was by being thick. Or slow. He’d got it in one. Her desperation to leave. Max’s desperation to have her stay. Without seeming to move, Brent was suddenly, seamlessly between Sunny and her precious stairwell.

Yikes.

‘Put your equipment down,’ he told her and once again she got that look of disdain. Brent was immaculate, smoothly urbane, doing what the guest needed. That he had to put himself so close to an actual cleaner was obviously distasteful in the extreme—that he had to talk to her was worse.

But he was blocking her path and he was making it clear she had no option. She put her mop and bucket down again but she wasn’t buying into whatever was happening. She put her hands behind her back, looked at the floor and waited. A good little cleaning lady...

‘Sir...’ With Sunny trapped, Brent turned back to Max. ‘We apologise but there is no babysitting service available. If you’d booked your baby in earlier...’

‘I didn’t have a baby earlier,’ Max snapped. ‘And I told you before—she’s not my baby.’

‘She’s his sister,’ Sunny muttered because she’d just spent twenty minutes cleaning and feeding a little girl and it suddenly seemed important—no, imperative—that someone laid claim to her. But as she said it, memories surfaced.

A social worker, taking Chloe from her arms. ‘You can’t take care of her, sweetheart.’

And Sunny yelling back with all the might of her small self. ‘But she’s my sister!’

Those memories weren’t appropriate now, but they were strong enough to make her lift her gaze to Max and look defiant. But his anger blazed back at her.

‘I asked you to keep quiet about what’s just happened,’ he snapped.

Right. She went back to staring at the floor, but not before she’d seen the stab of shock as she’d said the word sister. Not before she’d seen him glance back at the pram with a look that was suddenly uncertain.

Up until now his reaction had been one of shock and anger. Something had messed with his world and he needed to put it right. But now...his face suddenly showed a new emotion.

Sister...

What sort of family did this man have? Obviously there’d been friction between father and son. Where was the rest of his family?

Why did the word sister register with such shock?

But Brent was forging on, trying to make sense of what was happening. Focusing on the near target.

‘Mr Grayland had to ask you to be quiet?’ he demanded.

‘He’s talking of my confidentiality agreement,’ she told him, still staring at the floor. ‘He doesn’t wish me to talk of what’s happened outside this room.’

‘Or inside either,’ Max snapped and amazingly Brent came to her defence.

‘Miss Raye is required to report anything that happens in this hotel to me. But of course the confidentiality agreement extends to me as well. I’d like Miss Raye to leave. She has work to be getting on with, and as a cleaner she can hardly be of any use to you.’

‘But you don’t have a babysitter for me.’

‘No, sir.’

‘And Miss Raye knows how to care for babies.’

Brent sent her an uncertain glance. He wasn’t sure where to go with this. ‘Is this true, Miss Raye?’

‘Please...’ She needed to get out of here. She spoke directly to her boss. ‘I’m at the end of a double shift. If you’ll excuse me...’

‘But you do know about babies?’

Did she know about babies? It was practically the only thing she did know. But now wasn’t the time for hollow laughter. Be invisible. Disappear.

‘She does,’ Max said, suddenly softening. ‘She washed her and fed her.’

‘Miss Raye?’ Brent reacted with shock. ‘That’s not in your list of duties. Our insurance doesn’t cover...’

‘Damn your insurance.’ Max’s anger flared again, but once again he turned to Sunny. Who was still desperately looking at the floor. ‘Miss Raye, you obviously know how to care for a baby. She’s sleeping now. You’re at the end of a double shift? You must be tired.’ He gazed around the suite and she could almost see cogs whirring. ‘This living room has a massive settee. Your manager... Mr...’ He looked in query at Brent.

‘Cottee,’ Brent told him smoothly. ‘Brent Cottee.’

‘Thank you. Mr Cottee can no doubt send up nightwear, toothbrush, anything you need to stay the night. My bedroom has an en suite bathroom so you can be separate. Mr Cottee, I’m prepared to pay full babysitting services for the night, doubled, plus the same amount to Miss Raye personally.’ He looked uncertainly back at the pram but forged on, plan in place. ‘This could suit.’

‘Suit who?’ Sunny muttered.

‘Suit me,’ Max said smoothly. This obviously wasn’t a man who let objections trouble his path. ‘I can’t believe money wouldn’t be useful at this time of the year.’

Was he kidding? Of course it would. It’d be glorious.

And the alternative? By the time she got home it’d be midnight and she was due to start work again at eight. Gran and Pa wouldn’t even realise she hadn’t come home.

‘The insurance...’ Brent bleated but it was a weak bleat. He looked almost hopeful.

‘I’ll sign a waiver,’ Max told him. ‘Miss Raye might not have childcare credentials but I’ve seen enough to know I want her.’

‘You’re on duty again tomorrow?’ Brent demanded.

‘Yes, sir, at eight.’

He nodded. ‘Then it seems satisfactory.’ The fact that she’d just done a double shift, that she could well be up all night with a newborn and she had to work tomorrow seemed to worry neither of them. But then she thought...double money. A double shift today, payment for a double shift tonight and then tomorrow’s shift... She could almost pay for Tom’s tooth to be capped with that. Tom was working all summer to pay his uni fees but the money wouldn’t stretch to dentistry.

And baby Phoebe was asleep. With luck, it’d be just a couple of quick feeds during the night.

So... She had her back to the wall but she also had Max Grayland at her mercy.

She could try.

So she tilted her chin and met his gaze square-on.

‘I agree,’ she told him. ‘On one more condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘I need the biggest, fanciest box of cherry liqueur chocolates that money can buy, gift-wrapped and delivered here before I leave work tomorrow. If you can find me those, we have a deal.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Max said, astounded.

‘Miss Raye...’ A hissed warning from Brent.

But she ignored him. Tomorrow night would be crazy. Christmas Eve would be in full swing before she got home. She’d have cooking, gift-wrapping, hugging, greeting, chaos... And Gran was expecting her chocolates.

‘That or nothing,’ she told him and Max met her look. A muscle twitched at the side of his mouth. For a moment she even saw a twinkle. Laughter?

‘They’re that important?’

‘That or nothing,’ she repeated and the twitch turned into a smile.

It transformed his face. She’d thought he seemed harsh, autocratic, bleak, but suddenly he was laughing at her...no, with her, she thought, because his smile seemed almost kind. His gaze was still on hers, holding her, blocking out the rest of the world.