Good God, she was still talking. He couldn’t recall anyone speaking to him like this in years. Seven years, to be exact. Ever since he’d got his lucky break when he directed his first feature film, the one that went on to earn him the “Best Director Award.” If he was honest with himself, normally the women of his acquaintance either kowtowed to his every utterance or stayed out of his way. None of them carried on like some avenging angel on his sons’ behalf. He observed her through lowered lashes, watching the way her hands shot out when she had a point to make, how despite towering over her, she was not fazed in the slightest. It was refreshing.
He held up a hand to stop the flow, enjoying how her eyes widened into deep golden pools at the surprising authoritative gesture. “Miss George, may I stop you there. I realize you have the worst kind of opinion of me right now and while I really don’t care, I don’t have time to argue with you as I need to get my son home and to bed.”
Turning around, he found the mini-Houdini had vanished from his spot on the floor, leaving behind a large black rucksack. He felt his throat close in panic and he whirled back to face her, ready to ask for her help yet again. Only to find the conjurer had magically appeared by her side, her hand resting delicately on his shoulder as she peered down to look at something in the comic he was showing her. The image of his son’s happy face as he smiled up at her felt like a punch to the solar plexus. Other than when he came to find him, how long had it been since Theo looked up at him with that sort of adoration?
She smiled down at Theo. The movement transformed her whole face, making her seem carefree. Nothing like the force of nature from a few moments before. Using the opportunity, he gazed quickly around the small village shop. The rich smell of sweets in the air, the sight of jars and plastic bottles of candies filling his view everywhere he looked.
Behind them, he was able to glimpse those bits of the shop she clearly did not want people to notice. The corners, darkened with damp. Large jars covering the worst of the peeling paint and wallpaper. The weathered wood of the counter. Not the most thriving of businesses he’d seen despite the obvious love and care she put into it. Hearing a burst of childish giggles he looked back to see his son laughing at something she had said. When was the last time he’d heard his son laugh with such abandon? Too long, clearly.
“Yes and my daddy made this.” The simple statement jerked him out of his musings as he watched Theo point to a miniaturized movie poster on the back of his comic.
“Your daddy made the comic?” she asked, her eyes wide, trying for all appearances to look suitably impressed. She didn’t fool him for a second. She wasn’t that good an actress, and in his job, he’d seen the best of the best.
“No, silly. He directed it. He’s a director,” Theo finished, throwing a proud smile in his direction. He couldn’t help but smile back. He knew he hadn’t always been around for his son as much as he wanted to, but he knew that Theo was proud of him and of what he did. Especially when he made a film based on a comic.
He bit back a smile as she frowned at the new information and gently holding the magazine, peered closer at the smaller writing on the poster where his name was displayed in miniaturized capitals.
“So I see. I’m impressed, Theo,” she nodded, smiling. Though from the way her hand gripped her apron, Nick was sure it was more forced then he would have liked. Not that he cared about her opinion of him.
“But that’s not my favorite hero. I’ve got another comic in my bag with him in it. Hang on,” he said turning toward the back of the shop where he had left it.
She looked back at him, the indecision of what to do next clear in her eyes. He was used to people being tongue-tied around him when they knew who he was and what he did for a living, but he had hoped she would be different. Expected her to be.
“So, a director. I actually saw that film, I thought it was good.” He couldn’t help but smile wryly at the flatly delivered almost compliment. Clearly, the tongue-tied moment was long gone. “Strange. I always imagined directors as old men with beards and flat caps with interestingly tied cravats.” He couldn’t rein in his laughter at that. She really was something else.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I got lucky in the business quite early on. I am thirty-four if that helps, so I’m no spring chicken.” Pausing, he could see her weigh up this new piece of information, her head tilted to one side like an inquisitive bird. “What about you?”
“Me? What about me? You do know it’s not very gentlemanly to ask a lady her age?”
The mild reproof was at odds with the dancing of her eyes.
“Possibly, but I’m no gentlemen so you may as well confess. I always pictured a sweet shop owner as an old dear with flowery apron and a blue rinse.”
She smiled, the small nose crinkling up with the movement. “Well I’m halfway there,” she said, pointing at the apron around her waist. “But I’ve still a bit to go before the blue rinse. I’m twenty-eight. No spring chicken myself but still a way to go till I reach thirty-four!” The good-natured insult made him smile in response.
He could tell the moment a cloud entered her thoughts, the expressive eyes darkening like a twilight sky.
“Now that I know what you do for a living, I can see how the nature of your job, as you put it, prevents you from being at home much. It’s a pretty impressive job.”
• • •
Rania could see the comment had hit home and hard. A director! A flippin’ film director, no less! Did someone up there have it in for her? Maybe her mother was laughing in heaven right now at the situation Rania found herself in. Why couldn’t Theo’s dad have been anything else? A shop assistant or a banker. Pick anyone other than someone in the film industry. Was it the fate of the George women to be thrown near men from that world?
She stopped herself short. No. She didn’t go out of her way to be near that world. Her mother, with grand dreams of becoming an actress may have had a different idea. In fact, that was how she came into the world; as a clearly much-loved, much-wanted casting couch baby. Except after all was said and done, her mother hadn’t gotten the part despite what her big director father had apparently told her. All Rania knew about him was he was half Lebanese, half American, which explained her dark coloring compared to her mother’s English rose fairness.
She could see the muscles in his jaw twitch. Probably reining in the angry swear words for Theo’s sake. Well she wasn’t scared of the anger. Other than Belle’s support, she had been pretty much left to fend for herself most of her life. A few swear words wouldn’t dent the barriers she had already erected.
“If you are implying I put my job above my son, then you are very much mistaken. I love my son, Miss George. If I could have, I would have taken Theo with me and put him in the studio schools like other directors I know. However, I wanted more stability for him than that. Maybe in hindsight it may not have been the best decision, but I left him here with a nanny in the house that his mother and I called home,” he snarled, his body rigid with anger.
For the second time that day, Rania found herself stunned into speechlessness. Maybe she had pushed too far. Curse her childish habit for sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. She knew she wasn’t that great at eating humble pie, but judging from the look on his face and the niggling feeling that she hadn’t been especially fair, she knew an apology was in order. Pinning what she hoped was a contrite look on her face, she raised her eyes to his, her stomach sinking at the simmering anger in them, transforming them to the color of an angry sea.
“Please accept my apologies, Mr. Trenton. I clearly misjudged the situation. My only concern was for Theo.” Her voice was cool and even despite the racing of her heart under his heated gaze. The imperceptible nod was the only indication she had of being forgiven.
“Do you have any children, Miss George?”
The unexpected question threw
her for a loss and she found herself frowning, sure she hadn’t heard him properly.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“I said — do you have any children?” The repeated question was spoken a lot slower and carefully enunciated this time, as if she herself were a child.
The question, unbeknown to him, brought to the surface her secret, long held dream of having a child of her own. To raise her child to be loved and wanted, as she was never brought up. Never to be used as an accessory, then discarded when the party was over.
She shook her head sadly, partly to dispel the image and partly to answer his question, murmuring softly, “No. No, I don’t.”
She had a sneaky feeling the barriers she had long ago constructed were becoming more transparent with each passing minute of this conversation. His sharp gaze never seemed to miss a trick as he watched her smooth down her apron for the umpteenth time that evening.
“Why do you ask? Am I that much of a natural with children?” She smiled breezily. Clearly, he was in no mood for jokes as her light-hearted comment fell on deaf ears and he continued to watch her through lowered lashes.
“You are with Theo. He rarely lets me even look at his prized comics, let alone ever sharing them with his nanny or a total stranger.” He paused, as if another thought had entered his handsome head. “What is your experience with children then?”
Where was he going with this? Rania knew she hadn’t had much experience with interviews, especially since taking over the shop from Belle, but this was strangely beginning to feel like one. As tempted as she was to tell him to mind his own business, she felt strangely compelled to carry on with the bizarre conversation. “Baby-sitting jobs here and there. Not a lot of those since running the shop. I’m a volunteer reader at the library during children’s hour on the weekend. Why?”
She could feel his eyes travel over her face, as if trying to pin something down. He nodded and she felt like he had already come to a decision though she had no idea what and how the hell it involved her.
“What about a boyfriend?”
Talk about coming out of left field! Turning swiftly, she busied herself rearranging the already pristine shelves. Her face flamed at the reminder that the last time she had a boyfriend or even gave herself time for one, Belle was still alive and that had been five years ago. The “ignorance-is-bliss” tack was clearly what this situation called for. “Boyfriend? Yes I’ve had those. So … ?”
His impatient exhale was a sure sign her response had worked. Perhaps now he would back off and let her be. “Yes, I’m sure you did. What I would like to know is if you have one now?”
That did it. How dare he come into her shop and start questioning her about the state of her non-existent love life. If this had been an interview she would have sued … for something. “I’m not sure that is any of your business.”
“Just answer the damn question!” The sharp comment exhaled on a frustrated sigh had her turning around and facing him. This was too much.
“As I said, I don’t see how that is any of your business. To be honest, I’m beginning to wonder what’s with all the questions. What do you want, exactly?”
She knew as soon as the words left her lips that she was going to regret the answer. She could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, his eyes steady as he looked at her.
“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?
Chapter 2
“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 blus
hed, 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.
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