Nanny and the Professor (3 page)

His delicious gaze narrowed with a mingling of suspicion and disbelief. He frowned and she prayed for something,
anything
, to help her salvage the situation.

He darted a quick glance up into the tree, murmuring, "If you say so." Then he turned his full attention to her face. "I don't remember you telling me your name."

The dark look he offered would have had her quaking in her shoes… had she been wearing any. This was one job she could kiss goodbye.

"I'm Cassie," she told him. "Mary sent me.
Your aunt?
Mary Kingston?"

Dear God in heaven, she admonished herself yet again. Certainly the man knew his own aunt's name.

"
You
are Cassandra Simmons?"

His frown turned into a scowl and her stomach lurched sickeningly. Never in a million years could she turn things around now. She just knew it.

Slowly she nodded in answer to his question and found herself wilting under his scrutiny. She lowered her gaze and stared at her bare feet, groaning inwardly at the red, blotchy scrape on the top of one foot. And was that a leaf stuck between her toes?

Well, things can't possibly get any worse, she thought. The only thing she knew to do was the same thing she'd done most of her life… make the best of a bad situation. She'd always believed that if you acted as though you had things under control, most often the people around you would think you did.

Cassie straightened her spine and lifted her face so she could look directly into Joshua Kingston's eyes. Offering him her hand in formal greeting, she garnered all the confidence she could muster and declared, "Professor Kingston, your aunt told me that you're in need of a nanny. I think I'm just the woman you're looking for."

She watched as several emotions played across Joshua Kingston's features, but he didn't say a word. She chose to take his silence as a ray of sunshine on a very foggy day. If she could just keep talking, maybe he'd forget he'd found her climbing around in his tree and she still might be able to salvage things.

"I've had plenty of experience with children," she continued.
"Nearly nine years, as a matter of fact.
I've been certified by the Red Cross in first aid. I'm clean, thrifty, honest, and reverent." One corner of her mouth quirked upward and she lifted her hands, palms up. "What more could you ask for in a nanny?"

He looked as though he couldn't decide whether to frown or laugh. She helped him out by smiling brightly, but still he refused to commit himself one way or the other.

"Maybe we should discuss this inside," he suggested.

"First I need to put the ladder away." She snapped it closed, adding, "An enticement like this shouldn't be left out where there are children around." She lumbered off toward the garage before he could say a word.

She turned and saw him still standing there. "Would you bring my shoes?" she asked, sticking out one foot and wiggling her bare toes. The leaf that had been lodged there came loose, spiraling and then crash landing on the ground like a mini bi-plane.
"Oh, and my purse."
She didn't wait for his
response,
she simply headed toward the garage hoping her audacity would throw him off kilter. It wouldn't be the first time she'd blustered her way into getting what she needed.

After hanging the ladder on its hooks, Cassie followed Joshua around the gorgeous swimming pool and into the wide double glass doors at the rear of the house. She couldn't help admiring the way his dress trousers fit his firm rear as he walked down a long hallway and into the study.

"Have a seat," he told her.

Realizing he still had her purse and shoes, she murmured, "Oh, here. Please. I'll take those."

She hoped he hadn't noticed the worn leather at the toes. Secondhand stores were a must for someone like her. She needed to look presentable, but department stores were an extravagance she couldn't afford. Not for herself, anyway. She spent the largest portion of their meager clothing budget on new outfits for Eric. School age kids could be so judgmental over things such as jeans and sneakers, and she didn't want her brother having to deal with that nonsense. So when it came to dressing herself, she scoured consignment stores and charity shops, always managing to find name-brand clothes for cheap.

Cassie sat down in front of a massive walnut desk, tucking her purse beside her before sliding her heels onto her feet. She smoothed her palms down her skirt-covered thighs and then tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. When she next looked up, she saw that the professor had perched his hip on the desktop. He cradled his chin in the
vee
between his thumb and index finger and was scrutinizing her from head to toe.

Cassie forced herself to sit patiently. She'd run her mouth plenty.
Too much.
The poor man needed time to churn over all the thoughts that must be running through his head. This job did involve the care of his son. Fast talking her way into a job at a factory or a supermarket or a dress shop was one thing. This was entirely another. Parents had a right to feel comfortable with and trust those they left in charge of their children.

Nervous energy roiled inside her. Why he simply didn't tell her she wouldn't do for the job, she had no idea, but his silence led her to believe there was still a small ray of hope.

After a deep inhalation, he finally spoke. "I want you to know..." He paused with great effect. "That the
only
reason I'm hiring you—"

Elation shot through her. The job was hers!

"—is because of the high recommendation Aunt Mary gave you."

Cassie found herself staring at the movements of his mouth and she was impressed with the way he said the word aunt, making it rhyme with taunt.

"I have to tell, I'm a little thrown by your age. For some reason I was expecting you to be… much older. I would normally delve into your background with a great deal of fervor..."

Delve. She'd read that word in books before, but she couldn't remember ever hearing anyone actually use it.

"But I need to leave immediately, so I'm going to bypass my regular routine about these things and go directly on instinct."

"You're leaving right now?"

Joshua stood. "Is that a problem?"

"Mary told me you were desperate for a nanny—" she straightened in her seat "—but she never said how desperate."

"Yes, well, Aunt Mary can be quite... distracted at times," he said. "She offered to watch my son, but I couldn't chance her forgetting to give him his medication if he should need it."

"Well, there's really no problem," Cassie assured him. "I didn't bring my things, but—"

"Good!
Because I must catch the next flight to the West Coast.
I'm due to give a seminar on a paper I had published. I didn't want to go, but I was given no choice. The nanny up and quit last week and I haven't had time to find a proper replacement. The sitter I've been using suddenly had other plans. Unfortunately, I'm not quite finished packing, so I really do need to hurry."

"That's fine," she assured him. "But I have some questions about my responsibilities."

"I understand that," he said, moving around behind the desk. "I'd be surprised if you didn't. But first I want to tell you a few things about my son." He picked up a manila file and placed it in the briefcase that sat open on the desktop. "You see, Andrew is an unhealthy child. He's asthmatic and has multiple allergies. My son needs special care." He looked at her as though gauging her reaction. "I don't allow him to play with the other children in the neighborhood. Rough play has shown to trigger an attack."

Cassie remembered Andy's wheezing when he was stuck in the tree.

"I also don't want him outside for long periods of time," Joshua said. "My son is hypersensitive to airborne pollen. Also, he's allergic to eggs. And he can't tolerate animal dander of any kind, so no pets." He narrowed his gaze. "You don't own an animal, do you?"

"Oh, no," she said, but her insides knotted as she thought of the kitten she'd handed to Andy through the window. The child could be upstairs right now, fighting for breath.

"Good."

"Could I meet him now?"

His eyebrow ticked upward.
"In due course."
He reached across the desk, holding out a sheet of paper.

"Really, though. I think I need to meet him." She took the paper from him.

"And you will.
Soon.
That's a list of everything you need to know.
Doctors' addresses and phone numbers.
My cell number.
The number of the hotel where I'll be
staying,
and the conference center too.
Just in case I've also jotted down a list of rules for you to follow concerning Andrew."

The long column of Do
Nots
seemed to go on forever. She couldn't believe some of the restrictions. According to the list, Andy wasn't allowed to ride a bike, run, or eat candy of any kind.
Ever.
Then she glanced at the telephone numbers of the pediatrician and an allergy specialist.

"I'd like–"

"Just a second, please," she interrupted. "Just how sick is your son?" The frown she received made her sorry she'd asked the question. "And I really want to meet him.
Right now
."

Her tone was sharp enough to pry the professor to a stand. "Okay," he said. "I'll go get him." He ran an agitated hand through his russet hair. "Ms. Simmons, Andrew is... How should I say it? My son has a delicate constitution. He was born prematurely, and hasn't been healthy since birth." He tossed another sheaf of paper into the briefcase and shuffled through another stack on the desk. "He must be protected."

She pictured the little boy she'd helped from the tree. The Andy she'd met might have been on the thin side and maybe a little pale, but he certainly hadn't seemed as sick as this man was making him out to be. Well, looks could be deceiving.

"Go check on him, would you?" She blurted, frustrated that he wasn't moving toward the door. "I mean, bring him down."

Finally, he snapped the briefcase closed. "There's plenty of information on his condition." He indicated the books in the built-in bookcases lining the room. "Feel free to help yourself to them. I don't really believe you'll have a problem. Andrew hasn't experienced an excursus in some time, but I don't like to take chances." Joshua moved around to the front of the desk. "I'll call him so the two of you can get acquainted."

Finally!

He left the study and Cassie quickly scanned the book titles, looking for a dictionary. She found one and flipped through the pages, running her finger down the column.

"Excursionist, excursive," she mumbled aloud. "Here we are.
Excursus.
Noun, Latin, meaning digression." As she closed the book gently and placed it back on the shelf, she couldn't help but think how, if nothing else, working in this house would surely increase her vocabulary.

She could hardly believe the interview had gone so smoothly. She had been certain that sticky questions would arise– questions that, if answered fully, would have revealed the horrible truth about her. Just be thankful things went as they did, she told herself as she took a seat.

Hearing father and son coming down the hall, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she smiled when she heard Andy ask, "Is she nice?" She was astonished to find herself waiting breathlessly for the professor's answer.

"She's the kind of person who rescues kittens out of trees."

Cassie hadn't time to decide just how much sarcasm laced the professor's statement before they entered the room.

"Ms. Simmons, this is my son, Andrew," Joshua introduced. "Andrew, this is Ms. Cassandra Simmons."

Cassie stood and threw the boy a quick, knowing wink. "I'm glad to meet you, Andy," she said, offering her hand.