Claiming The Nanny

by Dia Cole

  Claiming The Nanny

  Dia Cole

  Contents

  Summary

  1. Havana

  2. Nathan

  3. Havana

  4. Nathan

  5. Havana

  6. Nathan

  7. Havana

  8. Nathan

  9. Havana

  10. Nathan

  11. Havana

  12. Nathan

  13. Havana

  14. Nathan

  15. Havana

  16. Nathan

  17. Havana

  18. Nathan

  19. Havana

  20. Nathan

  21. Havana

  22. Nathan

  23. Havana

  24. Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Books By Dia Cole

  Excerpt from Claiming Her Mates: Book One

  Summary

  1. Havana

  2. Havana

  Thank you

  Claiming The Nanny

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Black Diamond Press LLC.

  Copyright © 2019

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction, electronic sharing, or other unauthorized use of this book is prohibited without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Art by Addendum Designs

  Edited by Anne-Marie Rutella

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-946975-13-3

  Summary

  Will he risk everything to claim the nanny?

  Trapped in a hellish bargain he made with his vicious ex, Nathan, a Lykos shifter, is forbidden from touching another female. Problem is, he’s never encountered temptation like the new nanny before. For the first time in his life Nathan is desperate to claim a woman and not even watching his best friend seduce her will sate his hunger.

  With the Strip Club Killer on the loose, ex-dancer Havana, knows her life may depend on her new position. Even so, she can’t help the scorching attraction she feels for her boss. She knows the gorgeous, rich, single dad is off-limits. But limits are meant to be tested, right?

  For my miracles...

  1

  Havana

  The heavyset woman sitting across the gilded foyer gave me a dirty look. Her tight gray curls bounced as she leaned over to the birdlike blonde woman next to her and whispered loudly, “She must’ve gotten her interviews mixed up. Mr. Steele is hiring a nanny not an escort.”

  Their tittering laughter had me white-knuckling my purse. I fought the urge to look down at my outfit. Sure my blouse neckline might be a little low, but it had a collar. That had to count for something. And although the hem of my black skirt hit only mid-thigh, it was the most conservative one I owned.

  A pit formed in my stomach as the women’s laugher reverberated off the marble floor. Maybe I should leave? No. I straightened my spine. I have as much right to be here as they do.

  Their cattiness shouldn’t have bothered me. I’d been living with it all my life. First it’d been my classmates at school who’d jeered at my uncombed hair and thrift store clothes. Obviously they hadn’t been raised by a single mom who worked nights and weekends and rarely remembered she had a child. Later, it’d been judgmental bitches like these who side-eyed my stilettos and miniskirts. I got the last laugh there. It was their boyfriends and husbands who tossed their hard-earned dollars at me all night.

  Dancing at the club paid my bills and left me with more savings than any twenty-one-year-old should rightfully have. But lately the price of dancing had gotten too high.

  Early this week the cops had found the fourth headless dancer’s body. Unlike the other three victims, I’d actually been friends with Destiny. The bubbly brunette and I had just danced a set together last month. Knowing the latest victim of the Saguaro Valley Strip Club Killer was enough to put me off dancing for good. Of course, I needed another job before I could quit, and one that could pay as well as, or better, than stripping.

  This one held promise. I barely held back a slow whistle as my gaze bounced between the polished white marble floors and the ornate chandelier hanging overhead. Even the walls of the palatial entryway were flecked in gold. Clearly Mr. Steele had money. Loads of it if this mansion in the foothills was any indication.

  The twiggy blonde who looked like she desperately needed a plate of bacon and an introduction to eyeliner looked over at me. “I’ve heard that Mr. Steele is very particular about who he hires to care for his daughter. My agency said he’s already interviewed thirty nannies.”

  “At least twenty-five from my agency,” added the heavyset woman.

  “So what formal experience do you have caring for children?” the blonde asked me with a sneer.

  Other than babysitting dancers’ kids since I was old enough to pour juice, none. But she didn’t need to know that. I flipped back my waist-length dark hair. “I wasn’t aware you were conducting the interview.”

  The blonde sniffed. “I’m finishing up my master’s degree in child development and I’ve nannied for twin girls for the past seven years. They’re both in school now.”

  “Good for you,” I said my voice dripping with sarcasm. With my mom passing at the beginning of my junior year, I hadn’t been able to finish high school. Someone had to put food on the table and with no other family that someone ended up being me.

  The heavyset woman nodded approvingly. “It’s bittersweet when they grow up. I’ve been a mother’s helper for over thirty years. Many of my previous charges have children of their own now.” She let out a giggle that turned into a wheeze.

  Whatever. I wasn’t getting into a pissing contest with these pretentious bitches. I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled through my text messages. There were two from Sydney, my best friend and roommate, wishing me good luck on the interview. One from my boss, Max, begging me to come in and dance an early set tonight. And seven from Jeremy Riggs, one of my crazy stalkers from the club.

  I let out a deep sigh. Why can’t I attract decent guys? It seemed as if I was a walking magnet for the creeps and assholes of the universe. Since I was a kid, I’d dreamed of finding the kind of fairy-tale happy-ever-after prince I’d seen in movies. Now I’d just settle for a mentally stable guy who treated me well and didn’t try to cheat on me with my friends.

  While I blocked Jeremy and responded to Syd and Max, Mrs. Pierce, the dour-faced, gray-haired English housekeeper, called the other two women into their interviews. Within minutes, each of the women returned to the foyer with dazed looks on their faces. Mrs. Pierce ushered them out before I could consider asking them how it’d gone.

  That’s strange. I rubbed my suddenly sweaty hands on my skirt.

  “Ms. James,” Mrs. Pierce announced, motioning me toward a closed door down the hall. She waited for me to walk over and then opened the door. “For the first portion of the interview, I’ll be observing your interactions with Mira.” She pointed into the room.

  I looked inside and found a small female child playing with stuffed animals on the floor of a playroom. The bright murals on the walls, along with the colorful playhouse and slide, were a welcome contrast to the formal decor outside.

  Mrs. Pierce sat down on a chair near a large mirror in the back of the room and watched me expectantly.

  Taking my cue from her, I approached the little girl and crouched down so I was at her level. “Hi, I’m Vana.”

  Mira looked up at me with bright yellow eyes.

&nbs
p; I swallowed a gasp. I’d never seen eyes like that before. As she righted the plastic gemstone-encrusted tiara on her head, I realized her dark hair was streaked with silver. Do her parents dye her hair?

  “It’s rude to stare,” the little girl said in an imperious tone. Her lion-eyed gaze narrowed, and she pursed rosebud lips that were dusted in what looked like cookie crumbs.

  I chuckled. “Right you are. I apologize. I’ve just never seen hair as beautiful as yours. It’s like fairy princess hair.”

  She smiled at me with a radiance that would make her a showstopper one day. “I like to dress up like a princess.” She patted the skirt of her sequined-covered blue satin-and-chiffon dress.

  “Me too,” I said, smiling back.

  Mira looked over at a plate of cookies sitting on a bookcase. “Can I have a cookie?”

  I looked over at Mrs. Pierce.

  The housekeeper shook her head. “Now, Mira, you’ve already had several cookies today. No more.”

  Mira tugged on my arm. “I want a cookie. Get me just one.”

  I shook my head. “I wish I could, but it’s not up to me.”

  Surprising me, she cupped my face in her tiny hands and stared directly into my eyes. “Get me a cookie,” she said in a strange voice.

  I pulled away, rubbing my suddenly throbbing head. “Sorry. No can do, kiddo.”

  She blinked, a look of disappointment washing over her elfin face.

  “I’d love to see your dress-up clothes,” I added to soften the sting. “Do you have more pretty gowns like this one?” I motioned down at her costume.

  Cookies forgotten, she beamed and dragged me toward a pink wardrobe where dozens of sparkly frocks hung. While she pulled dress after dress down from the hangers, a rapping sound came from the mirror behind Mrs. Pierce.

  The housekeeper jolted and looked over at me. “It seems you’re moving on to the second phase of the interview, Ms. James.” She stood and brushed off her long brown dress. “Mira, I’m going to take Ms. James to see your daddy. I’ll be right back.”

  Mira frowned. “But I wanna keep playing with her.”

  “You’ll have to play another time,” Mrs. Pierce announced.

  Mira stamped her small, glitter-covered high heel. “I want to play now!” Her shout echoed throughout the large playroom, making my head throb again.

  Mrs. Pierce’s eyes glazed over. “Okay, Mira. You can play with—”

  Another loud rap came from the mirror. It must be one of those two-way mirrors. Who’s on the other side?

  Mrs. Pierce swayed. “What’s that? What’s going on?”

  I grabbed the older woman’s arm to steady her. “You were taking me to the next part of the interview.”

  She blinked. “Oh, yes. I’ll be right back, Mira.”

  I turned and waved at the little girl. “I hope to see you again, Mira.”

  The little girl waved as I followed Mrs. Pierce out of the playroom and into the next room down the hall.

  The older woman knocked on the door. “Mr. Steele, Ms. James is here.”

  A deep voice rumbled, “Send her in.”

  Mrs. Pierce opened the door and motioned me to enter. As soon as I’d stepped into the room, she closed the door behind me leaving me to face the next portion of the interview alone.

  As I looked around the room, I inhaled the rich smell of leather and sandalwood. The space looked like a cross between a library and an office with books and expensive-looking artwork covering the walls. The dancing flames in the massive granite fireplace immediately snared my attention. Wow! That’s awesome. Not that any normal person needed a walk-in fireplace.

  The sound of a throat clearing had me turning my head to see a tall man around the age of thirty sitting behind a mahogany desk.

  “Ms. James, please sit down,” the man said, pointing at an upholstered chair across from where he sat. Over his shoulder, there was a window into the playroom where Mrs. Pierce was offering the plate of cookies to Mira. Guess the older woman finally caved.

  I studied the man’s face as I crossed the dark gray Persian carpet. His features were too rugged to be called handsome, but his penetrating amber eyes were captivating. There was no doubt this man was Mira’s father. Not only did they have the same striking eyes, but his collar-length hair was the same silver-streaked hue as his daughter’s, which eliminated my dye-job theory.

  As he stood and offered me his hand, the cuff of his cream-colored dress shirt rode up revealing a thick silver bracelet on his wrist. “I’m Nathan Steele.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Havana James.” I clasped his palm in mine and gasped at the electric shock that rippled across my skin.

  He inhaled sharply. “Who are you?”

  My stomach knotted as I tugged my hand from his suddenly bruising grip. “Um, Havana James.”

  Moving in a blur, Nathan raced around the desk. “I’ll ask you again, who are you?”

  Stunned, I twisted around and stared up at him. Despite my four-inch heels and five-foot-ten-inch height, he loomed over me.

  “Tell me the truth. Who are you?” Thick muscles strained his dress shirt as he seemed to grow in size.

  “Havana,” I gasped.

  A growling sound escaped his lips. “What faction are you from?” His amber eyes blazed with anger as his deep voice reverberated in my mind.

  I fought the urge to rub my aching head. Oh, why the hell did I think doing an interview at some rich guy’s house was a good idea? For all I knew he could be the Strip Club Killer. I backed away from him, my thigh smacking into his desk. “I don’t know what you mean by faction.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Where do you come from?”

  “I-I was born here in Saguaro Valley.”

  “Who are your parents?”

  “My mom is dead. Her name was Lydia James. I never knew my dad. Mom said he was a soldier. They had a one-night stand and I was the result.” I couldn’t believe I was telling him all this, but it was as if I couldn’t stop myself. “I think I should go.” I peered around his arm, looking desperately for the door.

  Nathan studied my face for a moment longer and then let out a deep breath. The expression on his face morphed from threatening to apologetic. “I’m sorry. For a moment, I thought you were someone from a rival…company. Sad to say, but it has happened in the past. They send someone here with the hopes of infiltrating my family and gathering intel. I’m happy to see I was mistaken. Let’s try this again. I’m Nathan.”

  I swallowed hard, torn between the desire to run from the room and my curiosity to discover what he did for a living. Is he with the Mafia? “My friends call me Vana.”

  He repeated my name slowly as if tasting it. “I like it. It’s unique and beautiful like you.” He flashed me a smile that instantly transformed him from intimidating to scorching hot.

  My breath caught in my throat as his scent—sandalwood with a hint of something wild and earthy—teased my senses. All at once, I grew aware of the fact that he was standing mere inches away, caging me against his desk. Instead of scaring the hell out of me, I was suddenly aroused. Very aroused.

  I licked my lips, fighting back the sudden fantasy of him lifting me up on his desk, spreading my thighs and…

  “Ms. James.” He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. His gaze dropped to the plunging neckline of my white blouse.

  Tension and heat crackled in the air between us.

  I breathed his name wanting nothing more than to grab his expensive shirt and drag him to me. God. What’s happening? Lust like I’d never felt before pulsed through my veins. I wanted him to touch me so badly it felt as if my skin was straining for his.

  He closed the distance between us and tilted his mouth down. His peppermint-smelling breath washed over my face. His lips were centimeters from mine.

  I arched up wanting more than anything to know his taste and brand it into my memory for all time.

  He reached out and brushed his finger against the hollow of my neck. />
  An embarrassing moan escaped my lips.

  Suddenly, he was several feet away.

  Disoriented, I blinked as he lifted his hand.

  “You had this on you.” He showed me a single blue sequin clinging to the tip of his finger.

  “Oh,” was all I could manage. My head swam in a strange fog. My nipples throbbed, and my sex ached with need. I gasped, unable to stop my rapid breathing.

  Looking completely unaffected, Nathan waved me toward the chair as he walked around his desk and settled back into a leather office chair. “Please sit down.”

  Shaken to the core, I sank down into the chair on trembling legs. My skin felt flushed and damp. I wasn’t sure if I should run like hell away from him, or jump his bones.

  Nathan flashed me a masculine grin as if he’d just read my mind. “You’re hired, Ms. James. When can you start?”

  2

  Nathan

  As I escorted Vana out of my study, her seductive scent—exotic flowers and female musk—inflamed my senses and made me long for things I couldn’t have. I had to fist my hands to keep from reaching out and touching her honey-colored skin to see if it was as soft as it looked. I’d already flirted with danger by getting too close to her earlier. I couldn’t afford to make that mistake again.

  I opened the door, relieved as hell to find the housekeeper on the other side. “Mrs. Pierce, please escort Ms. James out. She’ll return on Monday at eight to begin her employment. You may provide her with the gate code and let her know where to park.”

  “Certainly,” Mrs. Pierce said, working to mask her shocked expression. Clearly she hadn’t anticipated me hiring a woman like Vana, after rejecting every one of the nearly hundred other more qualified, and much more conservatively dressed, candidates. To her credit, the older woman merely pinched her lips together, and motioned Vana to follow her down the hallway.