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
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