f Central Park. The autumn wind whipped through her thin sweater a

rought-iron gates of Manhattan's

nnies in crisp uniforms and bodyguards wit

d up to rub h

earing a tailored navy blazer and tiny tie. But his posture was rigid. His

dyguards stepp

scream, shoving the men away with surprising violence.

hands. It tumbled through the air and lan

angry mess of heavy black crayon lines-pres

his head around. His ey

, something inexplicable

He marched straight across

r him, but kept their hands hovering-

is head up. His striking blue eyes-identical to the m

uched down. She held out the paper

ut his small, pale hand and wrapped his fin

ole despised physical touch. He hadn't

ep back," the bodyguard

and let out an aggressive, animalistic hiss. He

and wrapped them around the trembling boy. S

ch. Cole's rigid mus

ok of Breanna's neck, closed

frozen, staring at

ad never-not once-responded to a stranger like this. But protocol was pro

ould act as his art therapist. Just get in the c

t wasn't approval.

m not a nanny. I jus

ed. His blue eyes locked onto hers

o her. Her heart ached with a profoun

dded s