Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(4)

Obviously, modesty was a foreign concept to the man.

Summer prayed to six patron saints for the ability to stay cool under his unrelenting stare, but the prayers weren’t working. Heat rose in her face and fingers of awareness nudged a dozen sensitive nerve centers. Probably the result of the industrial-strength Dramamine she’d taken on the plane, dulling her normal edge.

Or maybe it was the man’s cocky smile as he draped the towel low around his waist.

She was an expert in the Weaver stance and shotgun recoil. She knew about bomb dogs, wire fraud, and chain of custody for criminal evidence. But no one at Quantico had taught her the proper procedure for a naked smart-ass when said naked smart-ass was standing in your shower whistling “Penny Lane.”

“Get out,” she said tightly. “Otherwise you’re going to be kissing the floor, and trust me I won’t make it nice.”

His brow rose. “You know judo?”

“Aikido.”

Suddenly his eyes were dark and focused. “You’re the new nanny?”

“That’s right. And you are?”

“Gabe Morgan—landscape and general contracting. The girls told me you weren’t coming until later tonight. My shower’s been acting up, so I thought I’d sneak over and clean up before you arrived.”

As an apology, it stunk. As an explanation, it was passable—assuming that Summer believed him.

Which she didn’t.

“‘The girls’?”

“The two O’Connor kids. Audra and Sophy. They told me when you were to arrive.”

Summer smiled tightly. “As you can see, they were wrong.”

“In that case, sorry for the intrusion. No reason for things to get off on the wrong foot because of it.”

“I’d say it’s a perfect reason.”

He crossed his arms, and Summer worked hard not to stare at the fine display. There was a small scar near the top of his shoulder that curved down in a tight hook. From a gardening tool?

“The old nanny let the girls run wild. Clearly, you’re going to be a lot stricter.”

“I’m not getting paid to let them run wild, Mr. Morgan.”

“Call me Gabe.”

Why was he standing there holding a conversation in his towel, for heaven’s sake? Why didn’t the man just go? “I doubt I’ll call you anything until you get some clothes on.”

“Too bad.” Once again the grin teased his lips. “Clothes can be damned overrated, ma’am.”

“Not by me.”

Gabe Morgan shook his head. “Things were just starting to get interesting, too.” He gave a two-finger wave as he crossed the living room. “I’ll talk to Audra and Sophy about this. I’m pretty sure it’s their harebrained idea of a joke on the new nanny. Meanwhile, enjoy the shower, now that I got things all warmed up for you.” He tightened his towel, opening the front door. “By the way, they’re good kids, but you should tan their hides for this little stunt. It’s a war out there, and the kids are winning, from what I hear.”

“Thank you for the astute advice, Mr. Morgan. I assure you, I know how to do my job,” Summer said stiffly.

“Glad to hear it. Let me know if you need any help.”

Summer crossed her arms. “I won’t.” She’d studied enough books on the subject in the last three weeks to tackle anything that was thrown at her.

So she hoped.

The towel slid lower on his lean hips. Summer was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open. She might drool any second.

“Whatever you say. ’Night, Ms. Mulvaney.”

She hadn’t told him her name.

The door closed. Summer sank back in the velvet chair outside the shower, feeling steam brush her face like a warm caress. She tried to forget his body and his grin—and failed at both.

During her FBI career she’d had her share of aggravating assignments. Some of them had been high profile and some of them had put her squarely in the path of grievous bodily harm.

Something told her this one was going to take the cake.



Gabe Morgan felt like shit.

Leave it to Cara O’Connor’s kids to set up something low-down and sneaky like this. Not that he minded being caught buck naked, but the new nanny had looked angry enough to char steak.

As soon as the door to his guesthouse had closed, Gabe tossed down his towel and prowled through his living room. The woman didn’t even look like a nanny, for God’s sake. Since Gabe had only met one other nanny in his life, he didn’t have a lot to compare by, but he was pretty sure nannies were starched and prim, expert at holding hands, defusing temper tantrums, and hiding any real, honest thoughts.

Not Summer Mulvaney. Beneath that dark suit she looked strong and surprisingly well-conditioned. Besides that, there was her kick-ass attitude. The woman was cool and confident, with an intensity that had caught him by surprise. She didn’t mince words and he was pretty sure she didn’t take crap from anyone.

It was a trait Gabe Morgan had always admired, whether in men or women.

But something about Summer Mulvaney bothered him. She didn’t come across as your average, garden-variety nanny or nurturer. Then again, maybe he was crazy. There was no denying that this job was starting to get to him.

Frowning, Gabe shoved away thoughts of the new nanny as he rustled through his bureau, tugged on clothes, and located three fresh surgical bandages. He’d tackle fifty sit-ups and twenty squats, then see if he could push himself any further.