“Different, but not necessarily a bad different. The weather, for sure. And the length of the blocks,” she admitted drily.
“Yeah, those are killers,” he agreed, lifting his drink up to his lips. She stared fascinated as he drank, his Adams apple bobbing with each swallow; grateful for the distracting arrival of their food.
They ate hungrily in silence. The food was amazing. It beat the heck out of her frozen Mexican dinners back home.
“Dad, can I have some quarters? There are some arcade games over there.” She looked in the direction of Theo’s gaze at the three machines.
“Sure, why not. You’ve got twenty minutes. Stay where I can see you,” Nick replied tossing some quarters over the table.
Leaning back against the cracked red plastic booth, she eyed him across the table. He was staring at Theo, who had begun animatedly shooting zombies.
“Thank you for bringing Theo to the studios,” he began, eyes now fixed firmly on her.
“No problem. A trip to the studios is the tourist-y thing to do, right?”
He leaned back, studying her. “Yeah, I guess it is. When you’ve been here so long, you stop thinking like a tourist,” he paused, his eyes serious. “But that’s not what I meant. Between work and school, I don’t get to spend a lot of time with Theo like this, despite giving studio passes to the other nannies.”
“That’s easily explained. I’m not like the other nannies. Theo hasn’t run away once.” she said with pride.
Smiling, he twirled the cup around in his hand, her gaze focusing on the movement of his wrist. Guilt at the mean thoughts she had toward him now gnawed away at her.
“To be honest, I didn’t just bring him here to do the tourist thing,” she found herself admitting. “Theo missed you. You were only together one day before you had to go back to work.”
“You think I don’t know that?” His voice stayed cool and even as he kept on staring at the half empty glass.
“Look, Nick, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just felt like I should confess the real reason I bought Theo here.”
He raised his eyes from the glass and arched a brow. “You felt the need to confess?” His lips tilted upwards as he seemed to find the idea funny.
“Yes, and trust me, I don’t normally confess anything. I don’t have anything worth confessing, for that matter,” she finished hurriedly.
This only proved to be a potential greater source of amusement for him and pushing the glass aside, he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, biceps bunching up under the blue shirt.
“You sure? No hidden skeletons?” He was laughing at her as she saw his mouth do the pucker-up-to-restrain-a-smile thing he had done on the drive back from the airport.
“Nope. All my cupboards are completely empty.” Other than for her mother, but as she had told herself over the years, she really could do nothing about her mother’s life choices. “What about you? Any skeletons in your cupboards? Children of Hollywood are notorious hell raisers.” He raised an eyebrow, the light from the outside making his eyes appear an even lighter shade of blue.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Hollywood News Channel. It’s very informative. They have hour-long programs about Hollywood kids going wild.”
He chuckled, the small dimple in his cheek making an appearance as he turned to check on Theo before looking back at her.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, you know.”
“Cryptic much? And you still didn’t answer my question.”
• • •
She’d had the nerve to accuse him of being nosy and yet now who was asking the questions? Taking another sip of his drink, he’d noticed she had drank hers dry ages ago but was still waiting for the ice cubes to melt. It had been his intention to flag down a passing waiter or waitress and get her another one, but after how she reacted in the car it didn’t seem the best idea. She didn’t seem to be a fan of the Sir Galahad approach; that or she refused to admit when she needed help, like when she was struggling with the walk from the studios.
Her golden caramel eyes were luminous in the afternoon sun and held his steadily. Those eyes were unique, despite what she’d told Theo. The man in the picture behind her had those eyes and the way he smiled reminded Nick of the way Rania smiled. Well, the few times he’d seen her smile, and that was usually at Theo.
“I hate to tell you, but there aren’t any skeletons.”
“Really? You grew up in Hollywood. In the film industry. And you have no stories whatsoever? Pull the other one. It’s got bells on it,” she muttered, lifting her thumb and first finger up in the air, pretending to ring a bell, “Ting-a-ling!”
“Who said I only grew up in Hollywood? I think you’re doing that ‘assume’ thing again, Rania,” he replied as his finger wagged in his best schoolteacher impression.
Her “Maybe,” coupled with the nonchalant shrug, didn’t fool him one bit. Everybody assumed he grew up in Hollywood. After all, his parents’ jobs were here, so why wouldn’t he? The more intelligent people would point out that he had a clear-cut English accent, so either he had hired a voice coach or he didn’t grow up solely in LA.
He sat patiently, watching how she twirled her glass around, almost willing the ice to melt so she could have a drink. Oh, for Pete’s sake …
“Waitress,” he called across the din, flagging an arm out for good measure and pointing at the empty glasses in front making the number two with his fingers.
Rania looked like he’d just smacked her with a wet kipper. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise. She opened her mouth, promptly shutting it again as he put his hand up to stop any tirade that may flow and pointed at her empty glass, “I have been watching you drink that ice for the last fifteen minutes. It’s hot outside and that ice is not going to be enough.”
Looking around to find Theo, he noticed the two men on the other arcade staring at Rania, flushing and looking away guiltily when they saw him glare. She had begun plaiting her hair, small nimble fingers moving quickly through the dark brown tresses. He couldn’t blame them for staring. The thin-strapped yellow sundress, though modest by Hollywood standards, did nothing to hide the olive skinned curves beneath.
“Okay, so let’s say hypothetically I did ‘assume’ you were raised only in Hollywood,” she said as her fingers made quotation mark signs in the air. “I apologize. But for some time you were still brought up here.”
He had to concede she did have a point. The challenge for him to provide an answer shone bright in her eyes.
“True. All right, you’ve got me. I was brought up here with my parents, one big happy family till I was sixteen. Then they shipped me back to England to live with my grandparents. There, happy now?”
“So something did happen?” The gleam in her eyes was still there. Obviously, she thought she was onto something.
“Are you sure you’re not a journalist?” At the arched eyebrows, he carried on, “Or maybe you watch way too much Hollywood News. Because I have no idea what you’re imagining right now.”
She leaned forward, the material at the top of her dress falling forward and giving him a peep of a white bra. Nick leaned back, as far away from the bra and the woman in it as possible, coming into contact with the booth seat behind him.
Just keep looking at her eyes … Seriously, what was wrong with him? She was the nanny. He felt like he should look around in case he found he had been cast into some reality TV show that had mixed up their scripts with The Sound of Music.
The wicked look in her eyes wasn’t helping either.
“Do you know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” His dry comment elicited a tinkling laugh.
“Here’s what I think happened. Not assume; what I think happened.” She paused.
If this had been scripted, it would read “Beat” for dramatic effect. Nick looked around once more; no harm checking for cameras.
“So I think you fell in love with a young actress but her parents didn’t approve and tried to buy you off. You then ran away together but got caught, and your parents sent you to stay with your grandparents and she was sent to boarding school in Switzerland,” she finished, moving back as their drinks arrived.
Hating to burst her enthusiastic bubble, he couldn’t help pointing out the obvious, “Just so I have this straight. She was sent to Switzerland and I got sent to my grandparents so I wouldn’t chase after her. The same grandparents who live in England. Which is across the channel from Switzerland and is, after the invention of the Eurotunnel, even easier to get to than by boat?”
“Erm … yes?”
He felt like he’d kicked a kitten, her once bright eyes now darkening with disappointment. Wait, why should she be sad? She was the one who created a completely fictitious life story about him; she got it wrong and he was feeling bad for her?
“Do you want to know what really happened?” An almost invisible nod and the beginnings of a small smile gradually emerged. “Trust me, it isn’t as interesting as that story you just made up. I only went to England at sixteen because my parents wanted me to get back into the English schooling system. After years there, my accent started to change; probably helped as well by the voice coaching. That’s it. I wasn’t always an angel but there was also no exile involved.”
She seemed to consider this as she sipped her cola, eyes fixed on some distant point to her left. “Yeah. Though I’m sorry to say with that tale I don’t think you’d qualify for Hollywood kids gone wild,” she said, smiling wryly up at him, her golden eyes crinkling at the corners.
• • •
“Dad, Dad, I won my game!”
Rania turned as Theo hurtled toward them, face beaming with success.
“Well done, kiddo. Got any spare quarters left for me to have a go?”
“Dad!” he groaned. A sound Rania recognized as the eternal child whine when they felt an embarrassing parent moment coming on. “You can’t play video games!”
“Really? And why not?” Nick asked. She could see he was struggling to keep the mock frown on his face as he looked across at his son who had resumed his seat next to her.
“He can’t play. Tell him, Belle!” How had she gotten dragged into all this; she was more than happy watching the exchange from the side lines, thank you very much.
“Boys, behave yourselves,” she said, struggling, too, to remain serious as she felt a smile tugging around her mouth.
“So what about Belle? Can she play?”
A decided nod as Theo proceeded to drink the remainder of her drink.
“And that’s because … ”
“You’re older than Belle,” Theo stated, his reply accompanied by the exaggerated eye roll, a clear indication he wondered why he had to bother explaining anything so simple and obvious, especially to a grown up.
“So that’s it, is it? Well, I bet I can beat Belle in a video game.”
She jerked her head away from Theo to find Nick watching her, eyes alight with mischief. She’d never been competitive as a child, but neither was she going to give in to a challenge like that.
“You’re on! Lady’s choice for the game?”
He moved smoothly out of the booth, bowing with arms spread wide as she and Theo shuffled out simultaneously. “After you, m’lady.”
She had already seen her game; so-called because she knew she was an expert.
“A beat-em-up? Thought you’d be more a Super Mario Brothers fan,” he said, slotting the coins in as the credits began to roll.
“What’s the matter, Nick; scared you’re going to get beaten by a girl?” She laughed, exchanging smiles with Theo who had taken up support on her other side.
“Nope, just trying to give you an honorable way out. But if you don’t want to quit … ”
“Never!”
Picking her favorite character, she could feel her pulse begin to race, not made any easier as she felt his arm bump hers with the movement of the joysticks. If she didn’t know better, she would say it was sabotage.
Three rounds later and her fingers were killing her. They’d each won one game and this was it. His character’s lifeline was glowing a dire shade of red. She could do this. She could feel Theo at her elbow, leaning forward as her character’s lifeline stayed green. One, two, three and finish!
“Whoo hooo! Go Belle!” came the enthusiastic cry from next to her and she turned around as he flung himself on her in a victory hug. Hugging him back, she twirled him around, stopping as she caught Nick’s eye as he silently watched her celebrate, a small smile playing about his lips.
Releasing her mini-ally, she turned around, hand out ready to shake in true good sportsman fashion. “Nice job, Belle. Though something tells me that wasn’t the first time you played that game.”
His large hand engulfed hers as he shook it gently. The warmth from his skin sent shivers up and down her arm. She smiled guiltily. “And you would be right but in my defense, you did say ‘lady’s choice’.” Realizing they were still holding hands despite the shaking having already stopped, she gently pulled back, locking her arm by her side in an attempt to stop the strange tingling she felt from his touch.
“Thank you for taking it so well. Most guys I know would have hated to be beaten by a girl, especially in a video game.”
“I’m not most guys.” And with that simple statement, father and son made their way to pay the check, leaving her feet rooted to the floor.
“Belle, are you coming?”
The quietly whispered question pulled her out of her daze as she followed them out of the restaurant.
“I’ve got to get back to the studio, kiddo, but I won’t be home too late tonight. What are you going to do for the rest of the day?” Nick said, bending to look his son in the eyes.
“I want to go to the beach,” he said, brown eyes flicking between Rania and Nick. As if this was a joint decision, she thought.
“Whatever you want, sweets. We can practice your French lessons at the beach or at the house,” she said, lips curved up in a smile at the petulant expression on his face.
Lifting her hand to shield her eyes, she looked up and down the strip. “Which way do we go?”
“You wait here till Gus arrives, and I am going to hail a cab. He shouldn’t be too long; I’ll drop him a text now,” he said as he grabbed Theo in a big bear hug, and then flagged a passing cab.
Her and her feet could have cried with relief at the sight of the black limo ten minutes later as she sank down onto the soft seats, listening to Theo explain how he won his games.
Chapter 4
She’d managed to avoid him that evening, despite the doe-eyed pleas from Theo to stay and join in the board games. She had begged off with excuses of needing to send emails and check in with work. In fact, she’d managed to avoid him the evening after that and the evening after that. He’d also made it easy by coming back after she’d put Theo to bed and leaving at the crack of dawn. According to Theo, someone was being mean about the something, which meant his dad had to work late. In spite of the hours, Rania found she couldn’t fault him; he was at least trying. Theo told her that his dad would go in and kiss him every night, and would also leave him a note in the morning. Those gestures were more than her own mother had ever done when Rania was Theo’s age.
Rolling over for the umpteenth time, Rania knew it was useless. She couldn’t sleep. Images of smiling directors and Valentine chocolate orders from work danced through her brain.
Shoving back the sheet, she slipped into the fluffy white bathrobe that came with the house, the blue light on her alarm clock flashing 5:30 A.M. She’d alwa
ys been a morning person, but this was ridiculous. Thankfully Gus had managed to scout out a shop that sold tea. Not the best brand in her opinion, but it was tea nonetheless. Yawning, she plodded down the smooth wooden stairs, the dawn light starting to creep through the glass windows and doors.
She stopped as she heard a movement in the kitchen. As she crept forward slowly, she could make out a dark shape leaning over the long wooden table. For a moment, she paused. She didn’t want to call Gus or alert the intruder to Theo’s presence. And as for Nick, she would be damned if she was walking into his bedroom. Damn it; she knew she should have taken that self-defense class back in Newton.
Snaking her hand around the side of the door, she grabbed an object from the utensils pot she knew was there, pulling the heavy weight back to find she’d lifted a rolling pin. Rolling her eyes at the comic irony of this, she lifted it over her head, the other hand poised on the light switch.
“Don’t move! I’ve got a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it!” she said, pleased to find her voice didn’t tremble that much.
Flicking the light switch, she groaned inwardly at the sight of Nick, gray T-shirt sleeked in sweat and gray jogging pants drinking a glass of orange juice.
“Any good with that?” he drawled.
“If need be.”
He laughed, the sound muffled as he drank again.
Lowering her weapon, she smoothed her hair down as she wondered what the likelihood was of turning around and going back upstairs, and pretending this never happened. Popping the blunt instrument back amongst its utensil family members, she turned, ready to leave only to find he’d sat down and pulled the other chair out for her, a second glass appearing out of thin air.
She’d hoped to avoid this very situation by not calling for his help and tackling the intruder alone and now here she was, sitting with him in bed shorts and top and an enormous robe.
Filling the glass, he slid it over to her while refilling his own at the same time.
“So how come you’re up so early?”
Taking a sip of the refreshing tangy juice, she thought how best to answer that. She didn’t think the line of “I was thinking about you” would cut it somehow. And besides, she hadn’t been thinking of him, she was thinking about work. At the moment she had two jobs; she was a sweet shop owner at one of the busiest times of year and at the same time, a nanny to his son. He was her boss and that was the one and only reason she thought about him. Period.
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