The Nanny Proposal

by Donna Clayton

  Silent words of warning echoed through her head. Be nice. If she wasn’t, she just might find herself sitting out on the curb, missing Joy miserably. She didn’t have to like the man. She just had to be nice.

  She smelled the smoky scent of bacon in the air, heard the sizzling, before she entered the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled with gratitude.

  “Wow,” she remarked when she saw him standing by the stove. “Smells wonderful.”

  Glancing over at the empty high chair, she asked, “Joy’s still sleeping?”

  “Yes, but not for long, I’m sure.” He focused on scooping the strips of bacon from the pan. “Why don’t you start the toast while I scramble some eggs?”

  “Sure.”

  After plunking slices of wheat bread into the toaster, Jane went to pour herself a cup of coffee. Leaning her hip against the counter, she took a sip and sighed. “Nectar of the gods.”

  He chuckled and she offered up a grin. If he could display his best manners, his charm-the-clouds-from-the-sky charisma, then so could she.

  While he cooked the eggs, his attention riveted to the task, she took a moment to study him. His hair was the deepest red she’d ever seen. Bronzed mahogany. Glossy and thick with a slight wave, it was cut in a clean, traditional style. And he had nicely shaped ears. His jaw and neck were smooth, cleanshaven. His nose—

  The toast popped up behind her and she started.

  “Butter’s on the table,” he said softly.

  Something in the quality of his tone gave her the distinct impression that Greg knew she’d been inspecting him. Ogling him, really. Jane felt blood rushing to her face, her skin flushing red hot. Moving first to the table to retrieve the butter, then to the toaster, she spent several moments too occupied with what should have been the simple task of buttering the toast. She didn’t dare raise her eyes in his direction.

  She didn’t like the awkwardness that blossomed suddenly and abundantly like the sweet but cloying scent of too many hothouse flowers in a too-small space. The strain seemed to swell, to grow more intense with each passing second. It confused her. Was it all in her imagination? She’d never experienced this kind of uncomfortable tension before.

  He divided the eggs between two plates, and without warning she was overwhelmed by anxiety at the idea of sitting alone at the table with him.

  The quivery feeling in her belly got the best of her. “I’ll go check on Joy.”

  “No, no,” he told her. “Let’s eat while we can. If I’ve learned one thing since my beautiful daughter’s been with me it’s that every free moment must be taken full advantage of.”

  Since his daughter had been with him. Humph. He made it sound as if he’d been raising his daughter for months rather than mere days.

  He set the plates on the table, then reached for the platter of bacon. She carried the toast over and set it down.

  “Orange juice?” he asked as he opened the door of the refrigerator.

  She gave a quick nod of assent. Slowly, she pulled out the chair and lowered herself into it.

  He leaned over her slightly as he poured the juice into her glass. The warm scent of him wafted around her, his now-familiar woodsy cologne enveloping her in something akin to a physical embrace. Unwittingly, her eyelids lowered and she inhaled, allowing herself a moment to bask in the heat of him, in the nearness of him. Never in a million years would she admit that she thought he smelled even better than frying bacon.

  Her eyes popped open. Had she really just compared Greg’s sensuous scent to that of crisp and delicious breakfast meat? It was a good thing he’d come out favorably in the comparison. Pressing her lips together, she successfully subdued the urge to giggle.

  Giggle? The very idea offended her, insulted her intelligence. She’d never giggled in her life. Something strange was happening to her. She felt like some silly schoolgirl who was intent on making an impression on someone she felt attracted—

  Is that what this giddiness she was feeling was all about? Was she feeling attracted to Greg Hamilton?

  It was a ludicrous notion. An utterly ridiculous idea.

  Yes, he was a handsome man with his deep, wavy red hair, his forest-green eyes, his delectable dimples, but surely—

  She cast him a covert glance. Felt her pulse quicken, her skin grow prickly.

  Lord, above! She was attracted to him.

  Then yet another miserable thought rolled into her head: it had been so long since she’d felt attracted to any man that it had taken her two whole days of experiencing—suffering, really—these strange reactions before she realized what it was that was plaguing her. She stifled a groan.

  Well, who could blame her for not dating? she silently wondered. She’d been busy raising her niece these past ten months. And before that, she’d been busy working to keep a roof over her pregnant sister’s head. And before that—

  “Pass the toast, please.”

  His request shook her out of her reverie. She held up the plate and he took a slice. He scooped up a forkful of eggs, slid the utensil between his lips. He chewed, his jaw tensing…handsomely.

  Darn it, she would not allow some foolish physical attraction to rule her body. Or her mind. She could fight this. And she would.

  What she needed was a distraction. And what better diversion than conversation? Conversation that verged on the dangerous side…dangerous enough to push this idiocy from her thoughts and keep her on her toes.

  Before she had a chance to think, she dove right in. “If you don’t mind my asking,” she began, “what happened to Joy’s mother?”

  Immediately, she felt the need to show just how little she knew about the subject by adding, “Are you a widower? Divorced?”

  He was a successful doctor. Respected. Trusted by his patients, his friends, his colleagues. He wouldn’t dare admit to having a baby with a woman without going through the proper channel of getting married first. Surely, he would conjure a barrel full of lies. He’d fabricate his past, and in doing so, he’d lift the mask he wore, giving her a peek at his true colors. He’d be showing her his honest-to-goodness character without ever realizing he was doing it. And that’s what she needed in order to banish this absurd attraction she was feeling.

  “Actually,” he said, “I’ve never been married.”

  Of their own volition, her brows rose in surprise when she heard him speak what must be the truth. Now the guilt she felt over her own lies swelled even more.

  He chuckled, setting his fork down. “Don’t look so astonished. For every out-of-wedlock mother there is in the world, there’s usually an out-of-wedlock father.”

  Her voice was nowhere to be found. Finally, she croaked, “That’s true, I guess. But where is Joy’s mother? And what about your parents? Sisters, brothers? You haven’t had anyone to help you with Joy all these months?”

  Her intent was to force him to reveal the circumstances surrounding how Joy came to be with him.

  “I have no brothers or sisters, and my parents have been dead for several years. I came late in their lives, a bit unexpectedly.”

  Jane’s breath left her in a whispery apology. She’d had no idea he was all alone in the world, otherwise she wouldn’t have been so brash.

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “I have Travis and Sloan. One of the things that bond the three of us is our lack of family support. So we support one another.”

  The juice glass looked tiny in his grip. She noticed that the dark hairs on the back of his hand lay flat, and his skin was taut over bones, muscle and sinew. A vivid image of that hand smoothing over her bare shoulder assaulted her brain with crystal clarity, and she blinked.

  Lifting the glass to his lips in what seemed to her to be slow motion, he drained it in just a few swallows and then placed it back on the table. The seconds ticked slowly by, and even though his unexpected answer about his family—or lack thereof—had taken some of the wind out of her sails, Jane still wanted to hear what he had to say about Joy’s mother.

 
Finally, he leveled his intensely green eyes on her and said, “I’m not very proud of having to admit this, but before last Friday, I didn’t even know I was a father.”

  Ah, so the lies were about to rain down. She chewed a bite of toast without being aware of its taste or texture on her tongue. It could have been a piece of corrugated cardboard for all she noticed.

  “About eighteen months ago, I had a few dates with a woman,” he continued, “I had a—a—”

  “A fling?” Jane quickly provided, enjoying the word-jab as if it had been a swift uppercut with a well-placed fist to the jaw.

  He instantly averted his eyes from hers, and Jane actually felt embarrassment emanating—no, pulsing—from him in waves.

  He nodded, slowly. “Yeah.”

  He sighed, something that looked amazingly like regret making his broad shoulders sag. His gaze rose to hers once more, and his spine straightened. And Jane was sure from his posture, from the intensity in his eyes, that he wanted her to believe he was facing up to something. When he next spoke, his tone was barely more than a whisper.

  “Yeah, I had a fling. A very brief affair that resulted in a pregnancy…and ultimately a child. My child. My baby girl.”

  Just then, Joy cried out for someone’s attention. Jane automatically pushed back her chair, but Greg beat her to the punch.

  “I’ll go,” he told her. “You finish eating.” He offered her a lopsided grin. “You’re going to have to learn to eat faster.”

  Once she was alone, she noticed that Greg had cleaned his plate. And she? Well, she had eaten exactly one small bite of her now stone-cold toast.

  Chapter Four

  He was such a good liar!

  Jane folded Joy’s little pants and shirts as she pulled them out of the dryer. She was alone in Greg’s spacious apartment. He’d taken Joy out to do the weekly grocery shopping and Jane had stayed behind to do some laundry and a little cleaning.

  She’d suggested that, since it was afternoon and Joy would soon be needing a nap, he should leave Joy home with Jane. However, Greg had insisted on taking his daughter with him. She hadn’t been able to blame him, really. Not while he was still feeling cautious about having hired her. And she hadn’t yet provided the character references he’d requested.

  Although it was grudgingly, Jane had to admire the way Greg seemed so protective of Joy. Jane didn’t want to admire anything about the man, but he obviously cared about the baby—loved her. His paternal instinct seemed strong. Jane had to give the man that much, at least.

  One of Greg’s T-shirts must have gotten mixed up with Joy’s clothes. Jane gave it a good shake, tucked the top of the shirt under her chin and hand-smoothed the wrinkles out of it, pressing it against her body. The shirt was still warm from the dryer. And the clean, heated smell of it made her fingertips tingle.

  She had no trouble imagining the fabric stretching taut across Greg’s back. Closing her eyes, she let her palm glide over the soft material, flattening it against her abdomen, letting her hand rise slowly, slowly, up and over her breasts. For an instant, it wasn’t her hand at all, but his. His strong, virile touch. Burning with desire. For her.

  Her nipples hardened into tiny, painful buds. Jane sucked in air in a gasp, her eyes opening wide.

  Tossing the shirt onto the top of the dryer, she angrily murmured, “What is wrong with you?” She shook her head. “You’ve completely lost your mind, that’s what’s wrong with you.”

  She’d known this man exactly two days. She had no business whatsoever fantasizing about him.

  You’re not the kind of woman he’d ever be attracted to.

  The thought made her lips press together tightly. Pricilla had been perfect for the wealthy, successful doctor. With her thick platinum mane, her big baby-blue eyes, Pricilla was the type of woman men such as Greg liked to have draped on their arms.

  Pricilla was the rare queen bee, beautiful and pampered, while Jane was much more like a drone, the one who kept things organized and running, the one who was run-of-the-mill, the one who came a dime a dozen. Such a woman would never capture Greg’s attention.

  “That’s good, because I don’t want his attention,” she muttered, snatching up a pair of tiny socks and rolling them together.

  So why the erotic fantasies? She swatted at the question as if it were a stubborn buzzing bee intent on irritating her.

  Even if she allowed herself to indulge in a little flight of fancy, Jane knew she would never have a chance with the man. She was in his house under false pretenses. She’d lied to him. Again and again. Purposefully. Deliberately. And he was bound to discover her true identity before too long.

  Bound to? The silent question mocked her. There was really no doubt that he would discover her lies…because she was the one who was going to have to break down in the end and be totally honest.

  He’ll eventually find out who you really are, a voice in her mind intoned, but he needn’t discover all your secrets…secrets that keep you from having a relationship with any man. The nightmarish thought made her shiver, and a gray dread seemed to fill her as it had since she’d learned the truth about herself, about her body. The memories of the rejections she’d ultimately received from the few men she’d grown close to chilled her.

  Stop it, she silently commanded. No one needs to know. And to dwell on bad thoughts would only depress her even further.

  She felt so bad for lying her way into Greg’s house. But it had been necessary. For her sanity. She had almost gone stark raving mad during the days Joy had been missing.

  Besides, Greg had lied, too. Although, Jane did have enough sense to know that his lies didn’t cancel out hers. Two wrongs were just that. Two wrongs.

  Still, he lied so well, Jane thought. This morning when he’d revealed that he hadn’t known he was a father before Pricilla and Joy had shown up on his doorstep a week ago, Jane had nearly gasped right out loud. He’d told the lie with a straight face. As if he really believed it. He’d lied with such…such honesty, that Jane had been left speechless.

  Maybe, a tiny voice intoned from somewhere at the back of her brain, maybe he was telling the truth.

  The idea shocked her. She walked away from the open dryer, paced down the hallway. Her steps led her unwittingly to her niece’s bedroom, right up to the crib, and she smoothed her fingers back and forth across the rail as she stared unseeingly at the brightly colored mobile hanging over it.

  Maybe Greg hadn’t known about Joy.

  No, Jane refused to believe that. If that were true, then oodles and oodles of questions would have to be raised regarding Pricilla’s honesty. And Jane didn’t want to think that her sister was that deceitful. That hurtful. Sure, Pricilla might sneak out of the house to go to this party or that one, but she would never look Jane in the eye and tell her bold-faced lies. Especially when it came to sorely needed money for Joy’s living and medical expenses. Jane had worked so darned hard to make ends meet. Pricilla would never have—No, it had to be Greg who was being dishonest. He was lying. Jane was sure of it.

  Greg arrived home with Joy, the baby’s tears sending Jane running toward the front door.

  “You were right.” Greg sighed, his green eyes revealing his regret for not following Jane’s advice. “She was ready for a nap and I’d only finished about half the grocery shopping. I tried to placate her, but—”

  Jane scooped Joy from Greg’s arms. “I’ll go put her to bed.”

  He looked so exhausted, so grateful, and Jane smiled at him.

  “I’ll get the grocery bags from the car.”

  She nodded and headed off toward the baby’s room, crooning sweet nothings into her niece’s ear. After less than five minutes of rocking and softly sung lullabies, Joy was fast asleep. Jane just sat, enjoying the moment. This is what it must feel like to be a mother. A mommy. This warm and fuzzy love that turned a woman’s heart all mushy and achy. There simply wasn’t a more beautiful feeling to be experienced in all the universe.

  Cur
ling a lock of Joy’s hair gently around her finger, Jane rocked and breathed in the sweet baby smell wafting in the air. She’d do anything to remain with her niece. Anything.

  When Joy was tucked into bed, Jane went back into the kitchen to help Greg put away the groceries.

  “The house looks great.” He stood at the table taking boxes and cans from the plastic bags he’d carried in while she was putting Joy down for her nap.

  “I didn’t finish the laundry.”

  He chuckled, and Jane felt something grow all quivery in the pit of her belly at the rich, vibrating sound.

  “I’ve learned that, with a baby in the house, laundry is something that never gets finished,” he said.

  She could only nod in agreement.

  “I was able to reach my old boss,” Jane told him. “He’s going to fax a letter to your office today. It should be waiting for you when you arrive at work tomorrow.”

  “Great.”

  The begging and pleading it had taken to get Max to agree to write a letter of recommendation had about worn Jane to a frazzle. Max had demanded to know why he should do anything for her when she’d walked out on him like she had. Jane had had to remind him of all the times she’d come in to work on her days off when his other waitresses hadn’t even bothered to call in sick, how she’d worked even when she was ill, how she’d worked holidays, how she’d filled in even when Max’s kitchen help hadn’t shown up.

  In the end, he’d grudgingly agreed to write a letter stating she’d been a good employee up until she’d walked out for no good reason. He’d wanted to know what she was doing working for a doctor…what did she know about the medical field when all her experience had been in waiting tables, he’d accused. She’d successfully sidestepped his questions. She didn’t want anyone to know what she was up to just yet. There were plenty of ways for her to mess up and reveal her true identity without giving anyone else the opportunity to do it. Not that she thought Max was that mean, but playing it safe was for the best for now.

  “Did you speak with your sister?” Greg asked. “Did she agree to talk with me?”