The Daddy Coach

by Karen Muir

  Ignoring the assault, she kept walking. Let the little monster have his moment of triumph. His father roared like a drill sergeant and called his sons ill behaved. No wonder the kid was a brat.

  The awareness stopped her cold. Turning to regard the obnoxious four-year-old confronting her, she realized she was looking at the child she herself had once been. Behind Harry’s taunting grin and in-your-face manner was a child desperate to be noticed. A child who cried out, “I’m here. Don’t ignore me.”

  She had been a brat for many years, too. Ignored and resented by her alcoholic mother, she had learned early on that negative attention was better than no attention at all. Seeing Harry in a new light, she considered giving the poor kid the acknowledgment he craved. The nanny job was history. What did she have to lose?

  Smiling, she moved toward him. “Okay, pardner, you asked for it.”

  Harry dodged out of reach as she passed him on her way back to the porch. Kneeling before the giant toy box, she began taking out items, one by one.

  He spoke from beside her. “Whatcha doin’?”

  “Looking for the other Mega Monster. There has to be two.”

  He watched her for a moment then left. She was still sorting through the collection of toys when he reappeared and held out a large gun identical to his. She stood to take it from him and turn it on its side. It was empty. “I need ammo.”

  “Me, too.” He led her to a faucet on the side of the house where they both filled their guns. When he turned off the water, his eyes glowed with mischief.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He sprayed her in the face.

  She returned fire and laughed as he shrugged off rivulets of water that ran down his neck and soaked into his shirt. The guns’ pump-action, continuous spray worked extremely well. She and Harry both got thoroughly drenched in the exchange.

  “Can’t get me,” she taunted, running for a nearby pine tree. Harry followed her around the trunk and closed in, saturating the front of her blouse and jumper. She retaliated with a steady stream to his face. Ian chose that moment to join in the fray. Still naked, he pelted Gina and Harry with small pinecones.

  The melee progressed into the backyard as they darted among trees and shrubs amidst squeals and laughter. Gina forgot her high-stakes mission and couldn’t remember the last time she’d acted this goofy. The boys seemed to be having a good time, too.

  When she ran out of water, Harry sprayed her mercilessly. Hands up in surrender, she quickly back away and slammed into a rock-hard body. “Ow!” She pivoted sharply and met the harsh glare of Will Sinclair.

  Startled, she pitched backward, her arms flailing to keep her balance. Will grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her close to his chest then twisted to shield her body with his as they both hit the ground hard. The jarring impact passed up through his body to hers. Air whooshed from her lungs as she sprawled over him, chest to chest, in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Gasping for breath, she couldn’t believe this was happening. Only seconds ago, she’d been playing with the boys. Will groaned painfully and shifted beneath her, and she felt his…maleness. She closed her eyes and longed to be far, far away.

  A second groan prompted her to act. Scrambling off Will, she pushed against his chest and inadvertently jammed him squarely in the groin with her knee.

  Oh no. His sharp intake of breath told her she’d hurt him. Badly. Wincing, she stood. Will rolled onto his side and curled into a ball, his eyes closed.

  “Is he dead?” Harry asked.

  “Uh, no. He’s just…resting.”

  Gazing down at his motionless form, she reflected on his quick reflexes and valiant effort to protect her by twisting beneath her. It was probably instinctive, a throwback to the many times he’d protected the football while being sacked. The analogy made her feel a little less guilty.

  Frowning at his continued stillness, she knelt beside him and spoke softly. “Are you okay?”

  No response. She laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Can you sit up?”

  Jaws clenched, he muttered something she couldn’t make out. She leaned closer, her face near his. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  A moment passed before he opened searing blue eyes and regarded her as though she were a pit viper. He spoke with an angry rasp. “I said, ‘Go away.’”

  Chapter Two

  Will couldn’t get rid of Gina Dunn fast enough. She hovered over him, an annoying gadfly of concern. “Sorry you’re hurt. Should I get you some ice?”

  “Stand back,” he warned, sitting up. Harry and Ian watched him from either side of Gina, who’d laid a reassuring hand on each boy’s shoulder. He scowled at the cozy threesome they made, feeling strangely left out. “What were you doing with my boys?”

  “Harry…we were just…I thought—”

  “Never mind.” Stifling a groan, he rose to his feet.

  Gina pushed back a wet strand covering one eye and lifted her chin. “We were just having fun.”

  He rubbed his shoulder that had hit the ground bearing her weight and his. “The ‘fun’ is over now.”

  “Would you like to join us?”

  He sighed. This woman was a piece of work, shrieking and laughing with his sons like an overgrown four-year-old. Their noisy play had drawn him to the French doors, where he’d stared in disbelief at the threesome dashing around the back lawn. None of that carefree abandon had surfaced in Gina’s interview. She’d seemed quite solemn.

  “You’re busy,” she went on, “with lots on your plate. But your boys want attention, and I can help you with that.”

  Was she serious? “Thanks, but I don’t think so.” A steady throb from his old knee injury joined the ache in his groin and cried out for a soothing soak in the Jacuzzi. Tonight, if a miracle happened and he got the boys to bed at a decent hour.

  He turned to his sons. “Harry, Ian, come with me. It’s time I dropped you off at daycare.”

  “No!” Harry protested. “We want her.”

  “Sorry, but it’s time for Gina to go.”

  Harry shook his head. “We want her for our nanny.”

  “Yeah,” Ian chimed in. “We like ’er.”

  Seeing the yearning in his sons’ faces, he felt like an ogre.

  “We’ll be good,” Harry promised, “and pick up our trucks.”

  “And get dressed,” his naked brother added.

  “And not spill our milk.”

  “Or play with our food.”

  “We’ll take naps every day.”

  Sure you will. When pigs fly. Will shooed them toward the house. “Get towels and dry off, boys. Clean clothes are on your beds.” He strode toward the house, the persistent Ms. Dunn at his heels.

  “I think you should reconsider me as a nanny to your boys.”

  He walked faster, ignoring her. Scrambling footsteps sounded behind him, followed by a dull thud and faint cry. Had she fallen and hurt herself? He turned as she pushed off the ground and hurried toward him, breathing hard. Her wet hair had formed ringlets around her face, softening her expression. She looked a lot better wet than dry.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Please hear me out.”

  He shook his head. “My sons need a qualified nanny, not a playmate.”

  “But the boys and I have bonded. That’s terribly important.”

  “Their safety is even more so.” He resumed walking, Gina once more hurrying to keep up. At the porch, he left her dripping on the doormat. “Stay here.”

  He returned with a beach towel and watched her wrap it snugly around her. Glimpsing her full breasts and trim waist, his jaw tightened. “Leave the towel on the porch,” he said, closing the door.

  Her hand shot out to stop it. “Please give me a chance. Just for one day.”

  Eyeing her through the narrow opening, he paused. This woman was no quitter.

  “Your boys need me,” she said, as if sensing his hesitation. “How many other applicants have they as
ked for?”

  None.

  She eased the door wider. “A conventional nanny may not work for your…lively boys. And I might be just the one you’ve been looking for.”

  Arms folded, he considered her words. His sons clearly liked her. She’d made them laugh, and she knew how to play. But could she restore order to their chaotic home? And keep his boys safe? And teach them some manners? A one-day trial might tell him a lot. “It takes special skills to care for challenging children,” he said.

  She dabbed her forehead with the towel. “Why are they so challenging?”

  “They miss their mother.”

  “How often do they see her?”

  He regretted not closing the door when he’d had the chance. “Their mother is dead.”

  At her startled gasp, he cut off her predictable sympathy. “I assume you have a valid driver’s license and the proper insurance.”

  “Yes. I’ll bring copies.”

  He rubbed his chin. Maybe he’d sized her up wrong. This woman was full of contradictions, from her primness to her playfulness to her sensual perfume. She smelled like roses. During their close encounter on the hard-packed ground, he’d been struck by her scent, like a tantalizing secret.

  Her bedraggled appearance did nothing to inspire confidence, nor did the way she eyed him like a starving coyote. The only sure thing was she wanted this job. “If anything comes up you can’t handle, call my cell phone. Right away.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re giving me a chance?”

  He nodded, scarcely believing it himself. “Come back tomorrow. Just for one day.”

  …

  Gina knocked on Will’s front door the following morning and began her affirmation. I am a skilled nanny… She scowled. Screw that. She was not a skilled nanny, she was a loyal big sister, and this one hard-earned day might be her only chance to search Will’s home. Finding the Vandenburg diamonds stashed in his den was too much to hope for, but she might find a clue to their whereabouts.

  Will opened the door, his eyes cool, his greeting terse. “Morning.”

  He wore a gray blazer and slacks, a white shirt and maroon tie, minus the dishtowel slung over his shoulder. She stepped inside, equally terse. “Morning.”

  The house was silent. “We’ll talk in the den,” he said. “The boys are still sleeping.”

  Her hopes lifted as she followed him. If Will left soon, she might have time to give the den a thorough search before the boys woke and demanded her attention.

  “Have a seat.” Will sat behind his desk and eyed her with a frown. She resented his lack of confidence in her abilities, even as she shared it. Raised in a “dysfunctional family,” she knew zilch about kids, other than helping her brother. The water-fight caper had been a lucky break. Today would be a whole different story.

  Will leaned across the desk to hand her a sheet of paper. “I’ve drawn up a daily schedule for you.”

  You would. Yet she was glad to have some direction and read with interest.

  Dress Children. Serve Breakfast. Brush Teeth.

  She nodded. Okay.

  Wash Ian’s Bedding.

  “Hmm.” She glanced up at Will. “Is there something about Ian that I should know?”

  “He wets the bed every night.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “He’s not toilet-trained?”

  “He is during the day.”

  She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she looked back at the schedule.

  Initiate Outdoor Activities Involving Use of Large Motor Skills and Balance.

  A vigorous game of tag should take care of that. She saw herself shouting encouragement, the boys running.

  Initiate Indoor Activities Involving Fine Motor Skills and Eye-Hand Coordination.

  Paper and crayons. Maybe scissors, if things went well.

  She scanned the rest of the schedule looking for a particular item. Ah, there it was.

  Nap – Optional.

  Her mouth tightened. Optional, like hell. The boys had to sleep so she could search Will’s house.

  She glanced up to find his frown still in place. She’d overdone it again with her thrift-store attire, thinking nannies should look nonthreatening and a bit dowdy. Apparently, a misconception, but she wanted to be consistent. Today she wore a yellow smock with an ankle-length navy skirt and Birkenstocks. “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head and stood to give her a quick tour of the downstairs and show her the notepad with his cell phone number. “Call me—for any reason,” he said.

  “I will.”

  He paused. “I’m counting on you, Gina. Don’t let me down.”

  “I won’t.” Anger stirred within her. She’d never been deceptive before, and she wouldn’t be here now if Will hadn’t framed an innocent man for his own crimes.

  She had to keep reminding herself of that. Maybe he’d needed the money from the jewels to care for his boys, but that didn’t justify what he’d done to her brother.

  Seeing his anxious expression, she repressed an urge to reassure him. Or tell him about the dab of shaving cream behind his left ear. It would be so easy to reach up and swipe it off with her fingertips. She inhaled sharply. What is wrong with me?

  Will left for his office, his expression grim, and she hurried to search the den in case the boys were early risers. She began with the desk drawers. The center one contained writing paraphernalia—pens, yellow notepads, envelopes and stamps, and brochures for Will’s company. She pulled one out and read it: DREAM ENTERPRISES. Complete Remodeling Services. Kitchens, Bathrooms, Decks. Call today for the home of your dreams. She shook her head. Nothing here.

  The next drawer contained bank statements. She pulled them out, hoping to discover large deposits reflecting the jewelry he may have fenced. Much to her disappointment, Will drew a modest salary. No suspicious activity.

  She moved on to the second drawer, which held correspondence. Several envelopes bore the return address of an attorney. Focused on her search, she lost track of the time.

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  Gina gasped and dropped the envelope in her hand as she glanced up to see Harry standing in the doorway. He wore Spiderman pajamas and clutched a frayed blanket.

  She took a deep breath and tried not to look guilty. “Good morning, Harry. I was looking for a pencil.” She bent to retrieve the bank statement and slip it back into the drawer. Sliding it shut, she glanced back at Harry. “You’re up early today.”

  “Me and Ian want another water fight.”

  She suppressed a shudder. “We need to wait for Ian to wake up.”

  “He’s awake. He’s watching cartoons.”

  “Oh. Well, I need to wash his pajamas and sheets. It’s on my list of things to do.”

  “Okay. I’ll get his pajamas off him.”

  “He’ll need clothes,” she called to his retreating back. She watched him head toward the family room where the TV was located. An early morning chill hung in the air. As much as she wanted to examine the lawyer info, she couldn’t stop thinking about Ian, shivering and cold. She stood just as Harry returned carrying Ian’s wet pajamas. Sensing his intent to hand them to her, she pointed to the doorway. “Take them to the washing machine, Harry. I’ll come, too.”

  He led her through the kitchen and into a spacious laundry room lit by a window overlooking the backyard. She opened the lid to the washing machine, and Harry dropped Ian’s pajamas inside.

  “Thanks, Harry. You’d better wash your hands.”

  He regarded her silently.

  “By the way,” she said, “what is Ian wearing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Could he borrow your blanket?”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “I’ll get him some clothes then and wash his bedding.”

  “Then we can have the water fight.”

  “No, it’s too early. We’ll wake the neighbors.”

  Harry scrunched up his face. “You’re no fun anymore.”


  “We’ll have fun sooner if you help. Come upstairs with me and bring Ian his clothes.”

  Harry shook his head. “Ian doesn’t like to wear clothes.”

  “He will if he’s cold.”

  But Harry was on his way back to the family room and cartoons. She followed and spotted Ian hugging a teddy bear as he sat naked and cross-legged on the carpet in front of the wide-screen TV. She found a Spiderman lap robe on the recliner and wrapped it around Ian’s shoulders to envelope him in warmth, “I’m going to run you a bath,” she told him.

  “Don’t want one.”

  “It’s not a choice.” She left him there to go upstairs to his bedroom to strip the sheets off his bed, run his bath, and set out the boys’ clothes. By the time she’d walked downstairs and started a wash load, she was in no mood to be put off. She returned to the family room and placed herself between the boys and the TV screen, which captured their indignant attention.

  “It’s time for your bath, Ian. Harry, you need to get dressed.”

  “I’m not taking a bath,” Ian protested.

  “No bath, no water fight.”

  “Why do we need to get dressed?” Harry asked. “We’ll just get wet and have to change.”

  Good point. But Ian was naked, so she held firm. “The neighbors will see us.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do. No clothes, no water fight.”

  Harry scowled and folded his arms. Gina reached behind her and snapped off the TV. Time for a diversion. “Do you guys like pancakes? When you’re dressed, you can help me make them.”

  “We never get to cook,” Harry said.

  “Well, today you can.” Hoping she hadn’t started something she’d regret, she followed them upstairs. Once Ian was safely out of the bathtub, she headed back down to the kitchen in search of pancake fixings.

  Moments later, Harry walked in dressed in cowboy gear. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay.” She moved the stool so he could sit in front of the mixing bowl. He dumped water from the measuring cup into the pancake mix and began stirring awkwardly.

  Ian walked into the kitchen wearing only his blanket slung over one shoulder. “I want a turn.”