Urgent: One Nanny Required (Crimson Romance) (4 page)

She’d taken the job for the extra money. That was all. And Theo was a cute kid, so no problems there. Any other reasons she didn’t want to think about right now. Or ever, in an ideal world. “Only what do you need me to do while I’m here. Three weeks is a long time for a half term.”

“Perks of a private school. Other schools only have one week, and Theo’s school has two usually. This time there’s an extra week for something or other.” She rolled her eyes. Theo had probably told him, but his father had been too busy to listen or to take notice. She grimaced at the thought that the man she had seen cuddle and coo over his son could also have a side like that.

“The only real thing is to look after Theo but there are loads of things to keep him occupied. There’s Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, Universal Studios has a theme park. Madame Tussauds, Pantages Theater for musicals, El Capitan Theatre for kids shows. And there’s always the beach. The house has its own pool and the chauffeur will take you anywhere you want to go. Unless you want your own car? That might be tricky if you’ve never driven abroad before.”

“Maybe I have? That was a question you didn’t think to ask,” she smiled, pleased with herself on a purely childlike level that she might have outwitted him.

“No, you’re right, I didn’t. So, have you driven abroad? Do you have a license?”

Darn, trapped by her own snare. Annoyingly she couldn’t even say that she had and she wanted her own car to drive her and Theo around in because that would be a lie. “No to the first question and yes to the second. And I don’t have my own car either. I don’t need it as I live above the shop.”

Why had she gone and told him that? On the plus side, it might save him asking her yet another question. Perfect, now she was answering non-existent questions.

“Convenient, if anything else, I guess. Have you always worked in sweets?”

She made a face. Did he think by shoving it on the end of a statement she wouldn’t realize he was asking yet another question?

At the long silence, he turned briefly to look at her. “Only making small talk, Rania.”

“Then why all the big questions?”

He sighed and turned back to the road, his face hard and set as when she first met him.

Great. Now she seemed like a petulant teenager. It was just a question. Small talk question. Not exactly her strong point but she was willing to try. “No, not always. I moved in with Belle after college. I was interested in languages and was going to become a translator. Hence the traveling around Europe. But then Belle got sick and I took over and the rest is history.”

“How many languages can you speak?”

She was surprised. He seemed genuinely interested. When she told people she was a linguist, most would point out that part of her life was behind her and that she was actually a shop owner now.

“I can speak, read and write French, Italian and German fluently. I’m working on my Mandarin.”

The low whistle made her smile. She could feel her skin getting heated, glad she could pretend it was the weather instead of her reaction to him.

“That’s an impressive list. Glad I recruited you to help out with Theo. He may actually learn something while he’s here.”

“I don’t mind teaching him if you want,” she replied, and then grinned broadly, warming to the idea she could actually do something useful.

“I’ll pay you extra, of course … ” he began, stopping mid-sentence as she waved her hand in the air.

“No, no. Think nothing of it. This one’s on the house.” She turned to look out the window, mesmerized by the glistening ocean in the morning sunshine. She could just make out the bobbing beings in the water. Most probably surfers and swimmers catching some early waves. The sound of Cole Porter suddenly whispered through the car stereo. A strange deep-seated feeling came from somewhere; a feeling that for the first time in years everything was going to be okay.

• • •

Nick frowned at the cars ahead, trying to see them and not think about her or her dress that had now risen up to mid-thigh. The dress which hugged her curves in all the right places.

A definite improvement from the flowery apron. Maybe too much of an improvement, judging from the looks she got from some of the men at the airport. Looks she seemed totally oblivious to.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts that were collecting there. Thoughts he shouldn’t be having about his son’s nanny.
Get a grip, Nick …
No, she wasn’t an actress but he didn’t believe that modest act of not knowing when guys were checking her out, for a second. Despite her many faults, at least Theo’s mother hadn’t felt the need to show off. She knew she was beautiful and expected everyone to notice. Unlike the other women in his profession. If their looks didn’t get them their own way, their pouts and tantrums did. No wonder he preferred to keep out of the dating circus, despite his well-meaning friends trying to get him to do otherwise.

He sneaked a glance at her. Her head leaned against the darkened window as she stared out, her eyes wide at the different sights. The thinnest beam of light squeezed through the tinted windows and highlighted her head, red sparks flying off her dark brown hair. Had he really thought it was just a dull brown before? Her long, full dark lashes lowered against her olive skin. The Lebanese heritage would explain that. But what about her mother, whom wasn’t Belle?

He shook his head as he dismissed the thought, chiding himself for unnecessary worrying. He wanted Theo to be with him for the holidays and he was. He had hired a nanny that Theo didn’t want to run away from and who spoke three — no, four — different languages. So what if she didn’t divulge her family history to him? Having visited the States enough times, he had on occasion watched the late night crime dramas. He’d seen the profiling for hardened criminals and psychopaths and she, one Miss Rania George, did not fit the bill.

All he needed to know was one, was she good with kids and two, did she have a boyfriend. The second question, as he kept telling himself after the eventful showdown in the sweetshop, was just to ensure he didn’t have to deal with any dramas when she was meant to be looking after his son. Not because he wanted to know on a personal level. Business and pleasure didn’t mix. He’d seen the disastrous results too many times from actresses dating directors, or dating other actors. Drama he didn’t want and didn’t intend to deal with.

“Actually, I do have another question. Something I’m curious about.” She turned to him, the same beam of light highlighting the golden flecks in her eyes. “Why did you decide to become a director? It’s not a regular sort of job.”

Carefully negotiating a turn to avoid waking the small package in the back seat, he shrugged. “My parents were in the industry. My mother was a make-up artist and my dad was a stunt man. Most of my early years were spent on one set or another. Films have been my life.”

Small white teeth began to nibble on her lower lip as she considered this. He felt a twisting in his gut at the movement and he swung his eyes back on the road.
Focus, Nick, focus.

“Mmmm. And what about Theo’s mum? Was she in the industry?” He couldn’t help the grim smile when thinking about the years before Theo was born and how he always tried to give Lila what she wanted — what she expected from having a director husband.

“Of sorts. Her dad was a director. That’s how we met. But no, she wasn’t in the industry herself.” Just born and married into it, he wanted to add bitterly, but now wasn’t the place. Not with Theo in the back, who had only heard the happy memories of his mother. He’d always been grateful that his in-laws did not interfere in Theo’s growing up after Lila died. Possibly because they’d always been too preoccupied in themselves to worry about their only daughter, let alone their only grandson.

Reaching up, she flicked a strand of hair from her face. The soft waves fluttered back down and the light scent of roses on a summer’s day drifted through the cool air, stirring feelings in him he thought long dead.

Man, this was going to be the longest three weeks of his life if he couldn’t keep his mind on work and off her. Trying to divert his own annoyance from himself, he growled inwardly at the passing drivers. In hindsight, maybe it would have been better to bring Mrs. Stowe, the elderly lady who Theo seemed to get on with. Okay, so he’d given her the slip once but that was nothing compared to the amount of times he’d given the others the slip.

“I’m still a little confused,” she began, her brows forming into a puckered frown. “So if you were brought up on the lot and your wife was related to the industry, why not keep Theo with you here instead of sending him to private school in another country?”

It was a good question. Both he and Lila were products of the industry. Lila would have wanted Theo to stay and enter the business as soon as possible. When she was pregnant, she’d already planned what stage school he’d go to, even who his agent would be. He should have realized sooner the Grand Canyon-sized gulf between them; especially after he brought her back to England when things had changed and not necessarily for the better. “Being the offspring of the crew and extras is a bit different from being the child of a director. People expect different things from you.”

“Like?”

Damn, but she was determined. “Like, they expect you to go into the industry. Become a child star. It’s not the most stable of businesses,” he grinned, pleased when he saw the corners of her mouth tilt up in return.

“Fair enough. And if he wants to become an actor or director or studio coffee maker when he gets older, then what? You aren’t going to try and push him into something else?”

He frowned at the mild annoyance in her tone. Like she had been down that road, or been pushed down that road and it had taken her a long time to make her way back.

“No, I wouldn’t. As long as he’s happy in his career, then it’s his right to choose. My parents never forced me. I saw what I want and took it.”

“And do you always take what you want, Nick?”

• • •

Oh my … where had
that
come from? Leaning as far back against the window as possible, Rania felt her face scorch from the brazenness of her question.

She didn’t even seem to have embarrassed him as his lips curved up into a knowing smile. Inhaling the air that seemed to have deserted her lungs, she sat up. Now was not the time to play a shrinking violet.

“Always. And I get it, too.” Was he … ? Yes, he was laughing at her. The forced puckering of his lips as he tried to quell a laugh irritated her already tattered nerves.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” she said, attempting her best schoolteacher impression.

Clearly that wasn’t working, as the puckering still continued. Clearing his throat, he drummed his fingers against the wheel. The steady beat, out of time with Cole Porter, resonated through her.

“So what did you mean?”

Opening her mouth to define exactly where she was going with that question, she was dumbfounded to find her vocal chords had mutinied on her. Her brain worked double-time to catch the butterfly thoughts that she was sure were flying around up there somewhere.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you if the wind changes, then your face will stay like that?” he said cheerfully, whistling out of tune to the music.

Beginning to feel like she was in danger of resembling some sort of fish by keeping her mouth open, she closed it sharply, the force of doing so making her back teeth ache. If she needed dental care, she’d send him the bill.

Lifting her chin, she gave him her best quelling stare; which probably would have been more effective if he didn’t have sunglasses on. She could be the bigger person here; no need to resort to playground insults, as tempting as it was. Turning her head at the tiny snuffle, she found her small charge, wide awake and looking around the car confused.

“Morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?” she chirped, deliberately making her voice bright to make up for the less-than-pleasant thoughts she was having toward his dad right now. A sunny smile, as warm as the Californian sunshine, lit his face, before he turned to rummage in his bag.

“I’m thirsty!” came the plaintive cry after discovering no juice in his bag. Reaching into her own, Rania pulled out a small bottle of water.

“Where did that come from, and what else do you have in your magic bag, Mary Poppins?” Nick queried drily, glancing at her as she grappled with the bottle lid that was determined to stay on.

“Well, you did mention Mary Poppins when you interviewed me for this job so here I am. That and I asked the stewardess if we could have a spare bottle just before we left the plane,” she replied, huffing in her effort to get the top off the bottle.
What was wrong with this lid … ?

“Here, let me.” He reached for the bottle, his fingers brushing against hers in the exchange. Popping the top in one fluid motion, he passed it back to Theo who drank like he’d trekked across the Sahara.

Rania clasped her hands in her lap, refusing to acknowledge the tingling from where her fingers met his. It was nothing, probably late effects of that plane thing people suffer from. Deep vein thrombosis, or something like that, only in her hands as opposed to her legs.

They’d stopped at traffic lights and she glanced up to find he had pushed his glasses to the top of his head and she was getting the full effect of those baby blues on her.

“What?”

“Just wondering; what’s with the sudden silence?

Darn, he’d noticed.

“Nothing,” she murmured, as she pasted a placatory smile on her face, hoping it would do the trick.

“Really. So it wasn’t because I opened the bottle for you?”

He actually thought she was upset because he played the strong man and opened the bottle for her? Sure, why not. It was a better excuse than the real reason; one which she refused to examine just now.

“Dad, say you’re sorry. You upset her!”

She whipped her head around in shock to see the tiny face, lower lip pushed forward, and his brown eyes frowning at the back of his father’s head.

“Whoa, what?” The incredulous look on Nick’s face proved too much and she couldn’t stop the giggles that erupted even in her attempt to disguise them by slapping her hand over her mouth.