Urgent: One Nanny Required (Crimson Romance) (3 page)

“Miss George, I would like to hire you to be my son’s full-time nanny.”

• • •

He
had
to be joking.

However, judging from the serious look on his face, Rania didn’t think that was the case. “You can’t be serious. I mean, you hardly even know me and besides I can’t. Unless it’s escaped your attention; I have a shop to run and it’s very busy.”

He arched one eyebrow at her while looking around the shop. Rania knew what he saw; the paint peeling, the scratched flooring and the worn counter. Minor details she hoped to fix when business picked up again, as it surely would.

“If you insist.” He sighed, as if placating a child. “What I am suggesting will work out for both of us. Theo has his half term coming up in a week’s time and I am flying out to the States for a big production commercial. He obviously likes you and I have a feeling he won’t run away from you.”

“And this works out for me how?”

“I will pay you double what you earn here which should be enough to cover any repair expenses your shop may or may not need,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and fixing her with his glacial gaze.

What was it about this man that rendered her speechless; something she was sure she had never encountered before tonight. “I can’t just up and leave. What about getting someone to cover my shop?”

“Do you have someone to cover? A trusted friend, maybe, or reliable weekend help you could ask?”

Yes, she did; damn it. Chewing on her lower lip, she nodded, annoyed to see a wide grin begin to spread on his too-handsome face.

“You’ve got a week till the half term. Here’s my card, in case you have any further questions,” he said, digging in his back pocket and producing an immaculate ivory card with black embossed letters on the front.

“C’mon, Theo. Ready to go?” he asked as the reason for this whole situation bounded through the door toward a navy Jaguar outside.

“Bye, Belle. See you later!”

Lifting a hand to wave him off, she didn’t see a point in correcting him. After all, she wasn’t going to take the offer … was she?

“Look, Miss George, the wing tips are moving. That means we are about to take off,” squealed the excited blond bundle, wriggling across her as his iPad tilted perilously on his lap.

Rania would rather not look. In fact, if there was any other way to have done this trip she would happily have taken it. Her only experiences of travel were sea cruises and trains to and from Europe, not long haul flights across the big blue. Albeit she’d never been in First Class before either, though unfortunately the luxurious surroundings were doing nothing to detract from the jerk of the plane and the lurch of her stomach in response. She knew she had to keep it together for Theo, though judging how serene he was, he seemed to be coping better than she was. Fixing her gaze on the head rest of the seat in front of her, she began mentally chanting the mantra she had seen for “flight fear” on the internet. But instead of peaceful images, she found her mind wandering over the events of the last week. She hadn’t even remembered saying a definite “yes,” before a couriered plane ticket arrived with a note telling her when the driver would pick her up. How Nick would meet Theo and her at the airport. She remembered the rushed, awkward explanation to her friend and colleague Tanya, about what the heck she was doing. And the last minute dash to the shops to find the perfect outfits. She never thought of herself as vain, but she wasn’t stupid.

She had seen some fashion magazines to know what women in LA dressed like. It wasn’t designer but it was classy, Rania thought, smoothing the soft material of the leaf patterned bronze wrap dress; pleased with the on-sale tan ballet pumps she had found to go with them.

She started as she felt a small hand slide into hers and she looked down into solemn brown eyes. “Don’t worry, Miss George. It’ll be all right.”

Swallowing back the lump that had formed in her throat at the gesture, she nodded at his earnest expression. Bringing the iPad back to her vision, he began pointing at the downloaded comic and the different superheroes, explaining how their powers worked. Determined to do her best to look interested, she tried to block out the drone of the propellers and the jerk of the plane as it took off.

The seat belt sign flicked off and she settled back, studying her small charge as his fingers moved speedily over the flat screen.

“Miss George … ”

“Theo. Who told you to keep calling me Miss George?”

He blushed, the pale skin lighting up like a beacon.

“My Dad,” he shrugged. “He said your name wasn’t Belle, it was Miss George.” He frowned as if this idea didn’t sit well with him.

She nudged him playfully. “But … ”

“But I like Belle better. Like that girl from
Beauty and the Beast
. I think you look like her.”

“You know what. I think that’s lovely. You can call me Belle if you want to. It sounds better than old Miss George, doesn’t it? And if your dad says anything, tell him to come to me.” The bright smile was her only response before he focused again on his screen. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her Kindle. She might as well read, it was going to be a long flight.

• • •

The bump of the plane alerted her to their touchdown. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep after they had eaten the five-star breakfast.

God! Where was Theo? Panic set in as she imagined him running off like he had with Lena. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the rumpled blond head sit up, yawn, then drop down again.

“C’mon, sleepy. We’re here. Ready to see your dad?” She knew that would do the trick as his eyes popped open and he bolted upright.

Waiting for the seat belt light to go out, she stood up, grabbing her oversized carrier as she maneuvered bag, boy and rucksack down the stairs. The heat hit her as soon as they got off the plane. She’d read Hollywood was suffering a heat wave but this was something else and she was grateful for the air-conditioning in the terminal. Luckily, their luggage was the first to come through and grabbing both cases, she herded the jumpy cricket through the tunnel, waving their passports at the serious looking man behind the counter. The not-so-subtle “Welcome to LAX” sign and all the references to Hollywood left her in no doubt as to where she was.

“Theo, let me know if you see your dad. Do not just run off. It’s very busy here,” she shouted above the din, hoping he heard and wasn’t nodding at something else.

“Look — there he is!”

She stood on tiptoes to look past the crowd. Then she saw him and her stomach took a dive.

The stone wash denim jeans hung loosely on his tall frame, unlike the faded gray T-shirt which clung to him. His biceps bulged as he picked up tornado Theo, who had already launched himself through the air toward him. Hastily smoothing down her hair, she wished she had at least a breath mint on her. Damn! He’d spotted her and was making his way over, pulling Theo along as he went. The crowd seemed to part naturally for the tall, tanned blond hunk. And why wouldn’t they? He fit right in, whereas right now she was channeling more ugly duckling than elegant swan.

“Hi Miss George. Nice flight?” His smooth voice, calming and frying her nerves all at the same time.

“Belle was a little scared, but I helped her!” piped the small voice, who was already devouring the pastry his dad had handed to him.

“Belle? I thought we were going to call her Miss George?” he knelt down to ask his son. The jeans held on more tightly to his butt then she thought they ought. Quickly diverting her gaze, she noticed a few other women had also noticed the jeans. And the butt.

“Belle said I could call her Belle, not Miss George. Didn’t you, Belle?” Flaky pastry was dusted all over his face and she couldn’t help but smile at the happy, messy picture he made. “Yes, I did, Theo” she said, stepping back as Nick stood up, a little too close for comfort. “I’m not his teacher, so why bother with formalities.”

“Well since we are dispensing with formalities, you best call me Nick. So should I call you Belle or Rania?” The straightforward question proved more difficult to answer than she would have thought possible, especially when it was accompanied by a megawatt smile. Giving herself a mental shake as she tried frantically to engage her brain, she smiled back determined not to let him see how he had thrown her.

“Rania. Belle was the name of the family friend who owned the sweet shop that I took over after she died. Theo said I reminded him of Belle from
Beauty and the Beast
so it stuck. You know, the Disney cartoon.”

Oh for the love of … He probably didn’t even know what she was talking about.

“So that would make me the Beast?” he asked as his lips quirked up into a wry smile.

She shrugged nonchalantly, “Seems so.”

Much to her surprise, instead of being offended, he laughed, the happy sound strangely contagious and she grinned back broadly in response.

“You must be exhausted. Let me get those for you. The car’s out front,” he said, gently easing the cases from her and wheeling them to the exit. Theo marched happily on the other side, leaving Rania to enjoy the view of father and son together from the back.

She didn’t think it was possible, but it seemed to have gotten hotter from the time they arrived to the time they had walked through the terminal. Glad she had worn a dress, she fanned herself quickly, diving into Theo’s rucksack and pulling out a baseball cap and putting it on his head. First day in LA and sun stroke; not on her watch.

A white Mercedes shone spotlessly in the LA sunshine and seeing the lights flash to signal it was unlocked, she opened the back door and settled a sleepy Theo in. Moving around to the other side as Nick stowed the suitcases, she raised her head as she heard a cough.

“You’re sitting in the back? How about up front instead and that way I can talk to you about what’s going to be going on while you and Theo are here.”

“Sure. You’re the boss.” The comment sounded sarcastic even to her own ears and she bit her lip, noting the narrowing of his eyes as he got in. She made her way around again before stopping as she realized that the left side was the drivers’, not the passenger side.

The air conditioning and soft-as-butter black leather interior felt divine against her skin and she was sure she would have drifted off if the rest of her wasn’t so aware of him.

“This is a nice car. A white Mercedes — I didn’t think that was your style.” He’d slipped a pair of aviator shades on, the
Top Gun
look proving lethal to her senses and she looked determinedly out the window as they approached the motorways.

“Wish I could take the credit but it’s a hire. What did you think I’d drive? Bright red Jag?” She could hear the laughter in his voice and going with the idea that it was a rhetorical question, thought better than to reply. At the small mew-like noise from the back, she turned around to see Theo fast asleep, mouth open emitting small noises like a snoring kitten.

“He’s exhausted. I brought him once to the States before, but he was much younger. How was the trip over?” She turned to face him, glad he had his eyes on the road so she could look at him unnoticed.

She’d made a deal with herself on the plane. Yes, he was good-looking so of course she would probably stare once in a while but that did not mean a thing and it never would. She wasn’t a man-hater, but in her experience they were out for one thing only. If you were that type of girl, then fine. If you weren’t, then you were like her; dating only the safe ones. Like Ben. Safe, predictable Ben. When it ended, her heart didn’t break which was a win in her book. And as for film directors; just no.

“The trip was fine, thanks. Being in first class probably helped.”

“Good, good. So … Theo said you were scared. You’ve never flown before?” He did look at her then and she was perturbed to find herself staring back at her own reflection, wishing she could see his eyes. Belle had been a great believer in eyes being the window to what someone was thinking and feeling, and right now she knew zip about Nick.

“Nope. Been on lots of cruise ships and trains, though. Not going on planes as a kid, I guess I’ve ended up with a little fear of flying but apparently that’s been cured.” It was just her aversion to Hollywood that still remained.

He nodded, as if it was an acceptable answer. “Rania. That’s an interesting name. It’s not English?”

She narrowed her eyes at the unexpected question.

“More questions, Mr.Trenton? I thought I had my interview at the sweet shop?”

He shrugged as if that was an irrelevant observation to this conversation.

“I thought we agreed you would call me Nick. And that wasn’t an interview.” At her snort, he carried on, “Well it wasn’t meant to be. And I’m just curious. It’s not a name you hear every day. You can’t shoot a guy for asking.” His hand was spread wide in a gesture of peace.

Biting back the smile that was beginning to form, she stared down at her hands wishing now she had had a manicure. The short, unglossed nails suddenly seemed at odds with her new ultra glossy surroundings.

“Rania means ‘delightful’ in Arabic. My … er … father was half-Lebanese and half-American so I think it came from him.”

“You think?” The dubious expression he threw her was a clear sign she’d just opened up a box of mysteries he was now determined to solve. Great.

“Yes, think. My folks didn’t stay together after I was born. I guess my mum thought it’d be nice to give me a name that showed a little of my heritage,” she managed to say evenly. It was too long ago to be upset by that now. She had been there, bought the T-shirt and taken the train out from that part of her life. She wasn’t going to revisit on the whims of her nosy new boss.

He nodded and she was glad he let the subject drop. “So, any questions you want to ask me? Only fair, considering I’ve asked you a lot and we will be working together. Of sorts,” he finished as he caught her raised eyebrow. That scared her. Knowing he’d be in the vicinity and working with him were two different things in her book.

Did she really want to know things about him? After he’d left the shop, she couldn’t sleep for all the questions that were swirling around her head. But now … she wasn’t so sure.