The CEO's Nanny Affair

by Joss Wood

  He loved her.

  Linc gripped the arms of his chair and stared down at the carpet below his feet. He’d never expected this, not with Tate, but, yeah, he loved her and it felt nothing like he’d expected it to. He’d thought that if he ever fell in love again the feeling would be accompanied by angels singing or African drums. That he’d feel swamped, drowning under the rush of emotion, but he felt none of that. It just felt right.

  It felt as if his soul had found its warm spot to curl up in, like he’d found a safe place to shelter from the storm outside. He felt as if he had another source of strength to draw upon, an alternate source of wisdom that was now accessible to him.

  This love he felt, this was deep and real and nothing like he’d ever experienced before. It was the phone calls they shared during the day, the silly text messages that got him through those endlessly long, tedious meetings. It was how he felt at the end of the day walking into his house and seeing her there, filling his home with her warmth, her laughter and her perfume. It was the fantastic, mind-blowing sex that always left him aching for more, and it was that indescribable feeling like she was in his corner, utterly and absolutely on his side. He’d started off not trusting her because she was a Harper, but now he trusted her because she was Tate, a fascinating and unique product of her Harper past.

  Linc sucked in a deep breath as the realization rolled in that, while he might be in love, she might not be feeling the same. Tate had set objectives for her life, and love and a partnership—in whatever form that took—wasn’t something she was looking for. So many people had disappointed her; the people who were supposed to love her best never had, and as a result, she had enormous trust issues. Tate wouldn’t easily believe that he was in it for the long haul, that he was prepared to love her and Ellie, for the rest of his life.

  He knew that she felt something for him—so he’d just have to take it slow, get her used to the idea that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

  And they’d have to find a way to work around her need to be independent, her career. He wanted her to have it all; he didn’t want her to sacrifice a damn thing for him. It was the twenty-first century; if he could be both a dad and businessman, then Tate could have her career and be a mother and a wife.

  Linc rolled his head on his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension in the cords of his neck. Dr. Mitchell looked at each of them, and then leaned back in her chair, her expression gentle and sad.

  “Ms. Harper, I regret to tell you that your sister passed away early this morning. I am so very sorry.”

  Linc closed his eyes as sorrow seeped into him. Yeah, Kari drove him nuts but she had given him an amazing son. Kari, rest easy.

  Linc clenched his hands around the arm of his chair before placing his arm around Tate’s very stiff shoulders. He looked at her and tried to gauge her reaction. To Linc it looked like she’d shrunk in on herself; she looked smaller and frailer. But it was her expression that scared him or, more accurately, it was her lack of expression.

  For the first time, he couldn’t discern any emotion in her eyes. There was no sadness, no anger, no regret. Linc turned in his chair and forced his fingers through hers, and he grew concerned when she didn’t respond. She’d retreated to a place where he couldn’t reach her, Linc suddenly realized. This was the same place she’d said she retreated to during her childhood, when the pressure and pain of living with her mother and sister became too much. The same place she went to when her father disappointed her time and time again.

  Tate was on her island and he couldn’t get to her...

  “I have tried to contact you, but your phone has been going straight to messages for the last six hours.”

  “I was at a function and didn’t think to turn it back on,” Tate told her tonelessly.

  Dr. Mitchell cleared her throat, and Linc looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Kari deteriorated quickly when she got here. It was almost as if she stopped fighting.”

  “I have to organize her funeral,” Tate said, staring straight ahead.

  “Kari left explicit instructions. She didn’t want a funeral and her body is already on its way to a home to be cremated.”

  She made arrangements for her funeral but not for her kids? Linc shook his head. “Her ashes?” Tate asked in a monotone voice.

  “She ordered the funeral home to dispose of them,” Dr. Mitchell replied, staring down at the folder she’d opened on her desk. “She did, however, leave a will.”

  “A will? Kari?” Linc asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice.

  Dr. Mitchell nodded. “It’s part of the admission process. We insist that our patients sort out their affairs.”

  Linc frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “How did she pay you? The Kari we know—knew—didn’t have the cash to pay for a private facility.”

  “We do take pro bono cases. Kari was one of those.”

  Hearing that, Linc immediately decided that he’d leave a check to cover Kari’s expenses. She was, after all, the mother of his child.

  Dr. Mitchell looked at Tate. “Kari wanted me to explain her wishes, but if you’d prefer to deal with a lawyer, then you can.”

  Tate’s eyes had yet to leave the doctor’s face. “No, you can tell me,” she said, her voice even but still devoid of emotion.

  “Before she died, Kari did make arrangements to have Ellie adopted. In fact, she worked with an adoption agency and preapproved a couple for Ellie to go to.”

  Ellie wasn’t going anywhere! She was Tate’s. And his. He couldn’t lose his two girls.

  “Kari wanted to give you the option of adopting Ellie, as well. Essentially, the paperwork at the adoption agency has been completed. It just needs either your signature or the Goldbergs’ signatures, and Ellie has a new family.”

  “Did...” Tate cleared her throat. “Did Kari indicate where she’d prefer Ellie to go?”

  Dr. Mitchell shook her head. “She said either of the options was fine. Essentially, she left the choice up to you.”

  “I see...” Tate softly replied and Linc released a sharp breath, desperate to know what was going through Tate’s mind right now.

  Oh, Tate, come back. Feel angry, feel sad. Please, don’t shut down, and, God, don’t shut me out.

  “Everything you need to proceed is in the folder, Tate.” Dr. Mitchell closed the folder and handed it to Tate, who took it with a rock-steady hand. “I am very sorry for your loss.”

  Linc placed his hand under Tate’s elbow and felt her jerk her arm away. He frowned at her profile, set in stone, and felt her sliding away.

  He silently cursed, hot, heavy words that gave him no relief. He would fight as hard as he could, for her, for them, for the family they were in the process of building, but if she chose to run, there would be little he could do about it. Running away was, after all, what she always did when life became complicated or people demanded more than what she wanted to give.

  It would be interesting to see how he coped with the tsunami of pain that was bound to follow her departure.

  * * *

  Hi Tate!

  Just to let you know that we’d love to have you host our new, US-based travel show. It’s a show developed for your unique delivery style and personality and we’re excited to work closely with you on this project. Details and the contract to follow and let me know when we can meet.

  Tate read the email again and tossed her phone onto the bed and shoved two hands into her messy hair. She’d been back in The Den for two days, and she felt as if she was operating on fresh air and emotion. Her sister, the person she’d both loved and hated, was dead.

  Her daughter was now Tate’s responsibility.

  She was in love with Kari’s ex.

  Kari was dead...

  And she had the offer of a new job...
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br />   Tate rested her forehead against the cool wall of her bedroom, too numb to think, still too stunned to cry. A part of her wanted to scream, to hurl curses at God and Fate, but mostly she just wanted to curl up into a ball and go to sleep.

  Is this what an emotional meltdown felt like, Tate wondered, panic creeping up her throat. For the first time ever, she didn’t know what to do, how to act. Should she run? Should she stay? Should she talk to Linc or just pick up her niece and her stuff and leave?

  Talk or run? Stay or go?

  Her indecision terrified her.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  Tate turned around and looked at Linc, leaning his big shoulder into the frame of the door. So solid, so protective, a guardian through and through. God, it would be so easy to throw herself on Linc’s broad chest, feel his arms banding around her, silently assuring her that she was safe, that he’d protect her. Because that’s what Linc did, the core of who he was. At eleven he’d scooped up the Ballantyne siblings and placed them under his wing, determined to shelter them through their grief. He was Connor’s heir apparent, and he felt utterly responsible for the well-being of Ballantyne International. He was insanely protective of Shaw and still worried about his grown-up, very capable siblings.

  Linc saw himself as a white knight, and she and Ellie roused his every protective instinct. What she saw in Linc’s eyes was not love or affection; it was his need to watch over and care for those around him.

  Tate placed her palm on the wall. As much as she wanted Linc, physically, she couldn’t allow herself to lean on him. She needed to stand on her own two feet. Find some perspective, some clarity. Distancing herself would give her that.

  It would allow her to make smart decisions, decisions that would stand the test of time. Kari and her mom were the queens of hasty, off-the-cuff choices, and most of them had blown up in their faces. She wouldn’t do that; Ellie was too important, too precious to treat lightly.

  Tate felt Linc’s hand on the back of her neck and closed her eyes when he kissed her temple.

  “How you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, and Tate’s heart sighed. She fought the urge to turn her face into his neck, to wrap her arms around his waist and to rest there for a while. She was exhausted; emotionally and physically drained.

  Tate forced her feet backwards, and Linc’s hand dropped from her neck. “I’m...” Sad? Gutted? Emotionally whipped? “I’m okay.”

  Linc frowned at her. “Really? Because I’m feeling like someone used me as a floor rag.”

  He lifted a hand to her face and ran his thumb under her eyes, across her cheekbone. God, she felt as if being touched by him was what she was put on this earth to do. Tate jerked her head at the thought and stepped back again, shaking her head. You’re not doing this, Tate, you’re not going down that road. Distance, dammit! Creating distance was her best coping mechanism, the way she avoided disappointment and heartbreak. And bad decisions.

  Distance had served her well in the past.

  “I’ve had a job offer,” Tate blurted, keeping her voice flat.

  Linc’s eyebrows rose and a muscle jumped in his cheek. His hand fell to his side. “Really? Where?”

  “I don’t know too much about it except that it’s a US-based travel program, which will be a change.”

  “What about Ellie? How are you going to manage her and the job?”

  Linc threw up his hands in frustration when she didn’t respond. He correctly interpreted her silence. “Oh, come on, Tate! You can’t seriously be thinking about giving her up. She belongs with you, any fool can see that—”

  “How do I support her? She doesn’t come with a trust fund, Linc! I have to clothe and feed her and educate her! How do I do that? If I give up my career for her, where do I find another job where I can be with her and support her?”

  “Here, at The Den,” Linc stated. It took a moment for the words to register, for the pennies to drop.

  Tate frowned, not sure that she’d heard him correctly. “You’re offering me the nanny job?”

  “I trust you with Shaw. I like having you in my house, and I’d pay you well.”

  She loved Shaw and Ellie, but there were so many places she still wanted to see, to share with the world. She adored her job, and he was asking her to walk away from it? “Are you completely nuts?”

  “Probably. But I’m also in love with you, and I’m trying to finding a way to make you stay,” Linc said, in an annoyingly calm voice. “I thought I’d ease you into living with me...us.”

  Tate placed her fist into her sternum, utterly shell-shocked by his prosaic announcement. Linc just held her eyes, his hands in his pockets, waiting for her reaction.

  Tate lifted her fist to her mouth, her eyes blurring with tears. She heard his words, but she couldn’t trust them, she couldn’t allow herself to take the risk of believing him.

  He couldn’t, shouldn’t love her... She wasn’t what he needed. He needed a woman who was completely and utterly focused on him and on their life at The Den; she’d always have one eye on the horizon, dreaming about another place she wanted to explore. Linc deserved a woman who gave him exactly what he needed and wanted, and while she loved him, she was terrified that he’d one day realize that he’d mistaken his need to protect her and Ellie with love.

  Besides, she needed to leave, to test her theory that distance gave her perspective. Would what she felt for Linc be as strong away from him as it was with him? Somehow she thought not.

  “We agreed to keep it simple, Linc. To not let it get emotional. You told me I’m not what you wanted! You want a domestic goddess, a stay-at-home mom, a compliant wife.”

  “I’m pretty sure I never mentioned the word compliant,” Linc muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously frustrated.

  “You told me that I deserve to be happy, and you, for some reason, make me happy.” Linc pulled his hands from his pockets and reached for her, but Tate danced out of his grip, knowing that if he touched her, she’d never leave his arms again.

  She had to—she had to run, she had to put the distance she needed between them.

  “Make some ties, Tate, commit to me, to us. Stop protecting yourself from life and love,” Linc said, his eyes sad but determined. “Be brave, Tate. Love me, embrace the life I’m offering you.”

  Tate wished she could, but it wasn’t possible. Tate slowly shook her head. She couldn’t risk hurting him, hurting herself. No, it was better if she left now, while both their hearts were still, sort of, intact.

  When she had distance from him, when she wasn’t confused by all the emotions swirling between them, she’d feel differently, she’d feel as she always had: that she was right in her belief that she was better off alone, that she didn’t need love in her life.

  Tate knew how to run away; she knew what she had to do.

  She’d pack up and find a hotel, which is what she should have done weeks ago when she first acquired Ellie. She’d meet with the adoption agency and the Goldbergs and see if Kari was right, if being with them would be the right choice for Ellie. If they could give her a good life, no, a wonderful life, she’d hand over custody, hoping that the Goldbergs would allow her to have contact with Ellie going forward.

  She would take the new job she’d been offered, and life would return to a new type of normal.

  Tate closed her eyes against the wave of pain at the thought of not having Ellie or Linc or Shaw in her life, but she knew it would pass, that each day would get better. Keeping it simple, being on her own, was the way she had to live.

  It had worked for ten years; it would work again.

  She had to do this. She had to tell him.

  Linc beat her to it. He lifted a hand, his eyes steel gray. “Don’t bother saying anything, I can see the answer in your eyes. You’re going to run, because that’s what you Harper
girls do.”

  “It’s for the best, Linc.”

  “BS! Instead of staying, talking it out, working it out, you’re running.” Linc linked his hands behind his head, the cords in his neck tight with frustration. “You kept telling me you were different from Kari, Tate.”

  “I am.”

  Linc shook his head and flashed her a cold smile. “Are you? You took what I offered, and when it became a little uncomfortable, a little heated, you decide to walk, run, whatever the hell you Harpers call this.”

  He’s trying to hurt you, wanting and needing to lash out, Tate told herself, but his words still whipped her with the ferocity of an Arctic storm.

  “It’s not like that, Linc.” she said, silently begging him to believe her.

  “Funny, it feels exactly the same.” Linc strode over to the door. He placed his hand on the door frame and gripped it tight. “Can you be gone by the time Shaw comes home from pre-K? I don’t want him upset any more than he needs to be.”

  She didn’t want it to end like this. “Linc—”

  Linc spun around, and his lightning-filled eyes pinned her to the spot. “All I’ve ever wanted, Tate, was someone to stay. No matter how hard it got, just to stand next to me. And, because I’m such a flippin’ fool, I thought that person might be you.”

  Tate, her heart cracking, watched him walk through the doorway, heard the clatter of Linc’s feet on the stairs and then, a minute later, the heavy, hard thud of the front door slamming closed.

  Tate sobbed as she watched his hunched figure walk down the sidewalk away from the house, walking out of her life.

  Just as she’d told him to.

  Twelve

  Two weeks later, Ellie, sitting on the carpet in the Goldbergs’ comfortable lounge, held a small feather duster and waved it in front of an orange cat’s nose. The cat swiped the duster with its white paw, causing Ellie to release a girly laugh.

  This is what Ellie needed, Tate thought. Two parents, comfortably well-off, a nice home, a cat. Two people who absolutely adored her, who would sell their souls to raise this precious, precious human being. Giving them Ellie would be the right thing to do, the kind thing to do; it made sense in every corner of the universe.