by Paige North
In a home like this one? He doesn’t have full-time service? That’s unheard of. How did he earn this home? I know he’s a top dog at the ad agency, but this is an old Manhattan home, and you don’t get to live in a place like this by coming from humble beginnings.
I follow him into the living room, furnished with excessively expensive paintings, statuettes, furniture, and artifacts. You can tell his wife used to live here at some point, because there’s photos of her on the walls holding little Liam, and suddenly, my heart breaks all over again. I have to remember, when I’m thinking of him as an asshole, that this man is mourning the loss of his wife, the mother of his child.
And now, I’ll be the first woman to live here since her death.
“Second of all,” Kase says, picking up Liam from his swing, cuddling with him a moment before handing him over to me, “I’ll be working from home a few days.”
“A few days? Why?” It’s not that I’m panicking, but okay—I’m panicking. So much for not having Kase around all the time to look down on me.
“To watch you. Make sure you’re assimilating nicely. No offense to you, Miss Frasier. I would stay home a few days no matter who the agency sent for a nanny. I need to make sure you’re the right fit for Liam, seeing that I work full-time, and you’ll be the one to raise him. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Slowly, I nod. “Fair enough.” But still, I can’t help but feel that he doesn’t trust me. That he’s staying home just to make sure I don’t feed the baby kerosene or dip him in a flea bath instead of a nice warm lavender soak.
The second Baby Liam slides into my arms, he reaches his little chunky arms toward Kase asking for rescue. “Nuh-uh,” I walk away toward a window overlooking Central Park on the brink of blossoming with springtime colors. “Maybe it’s better if Daddy isn’t here to give you options.” I glance at Kase standing against the counter, arms folded over his chest.
“What does that mean?” he asks.
“All I mean is, it would be easier for Liam and I to get along if you weren’t here all the time watching over us. The very fact that you’re in the same room as me means he’s going to prefer you, of course.” Go, shoo, get the fuck back to your office, I want to tell him. He’s only making my job harder by insisting to stay.
“I can see that, so I’ll stay out of the room, but you’ll indulge me a few days. After all, Liam’s life is in a stranger’s hands, and I want to make sure I’ve made the right choice.” With that, he smirks and exits the living room, just as Liam starts to cry.
“Don’t listen to him, baby,” I whisper in his ear. “It’s like he wants me to fail, but you won’t let me, will you?” I pull the keys out of my purse and hand them to Liam who immediately stops crying and becomes engrossed in the shiny metal. Easy peasy. And soon, Kase won’t need to watch after me anymore.
Everything is going just fine, but that night, I apparently commit the mother of all sins and begin dipping the baby into the bath water before testing it with my elbow. Though the water wasn’t too hot—just barely lukewarm—Kase barks at me from the hallway where he’d been watching me in secret the whole time.
Honestly, I can’t work this way and come infuriatingly close to quitting.
“Stop!” he yells, comes into the bathroom and takes the naked baby from me. “How do you know this isn’t scalding hot if you don’t touch it, Alana?”
I scoff but keep my control. “I can tell, Mr. Hardwin,” I say, my voice shaking. “Hot water feels…well, just hot. There’s steam rising from it, and I don’t feel any warmth coming from the tub at all.”
“It could be misleading,” he says, kneeling in front of the tub and putting his hand in. He sees that the water isn’t going to give his son first-degree burns and finds another excuse to be mad at me. “You also didn’t put the mat down, so then what? He’s just going to slide all over the tub?”
Seriously?? Does he think I’m that stupid? “I was going to hold him the entire time, Mr. Hardwin. I would never leave a baby sitting in the tub all by himself, even if I’m only one foot away!”
We stare at each other for a moment, and I have to wonder—is this about my ineptitude? I know I’ve never cared for a baby, but like I said before, some things just come naturally. He’s blowing this out of proportion.
My heart races inside my chest, and for a second, I think Kase is going to lunge at me, kiss me with passion and fervor, but instead, he plops the baby in my lap and moves out of the bathroom.
I feel like we just avoided a car accident with my stomach in my throat and my head pounding like a drum. The bath goes exceptionally well, and I even get Liam to take his bottle without qualms before bedtime. “Sleep well, little guy,” I tell him, covering him with the blanket and stroking his cheek.
He might’ve been difficult yesterday, but today he’s already better.
I retire to my room and let out the biggest sigh ever.
What am I going to do? There’s clearly tension between me and Kase, but I can’t exactly ask him to stay away from me while I do my job, and I can’t ask him to stay away from his kid either, when the whole reason he needs a nanny is because he has to work. As stressful as this job is, I need it.
I need money.
There’s a knock on my door. I’m hesitant to open it, because a) I don’t want to deal with Kase Hardwin anymore today, and b) I’ve already changed into my sweatpants and tank top for the night. Cracking my door open, I peek out to find him standing there, leaning against the door frame. “Can I talk to you a moment?”
“Sure.” I push the door open slightly but don’t invite him inside, if that’s what he’s expecting. I cross my arms to cover the fact that I’m not wearing a bra and put on that professional Alana smile.
Kase’s eyes wander, aware that I’m braless. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to upset you, Miss Frasier. It’s clear there’s tension between us.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that. First of all, he’s even hotter than hell now that he’s in a T-shirt, not looking like the ad executive I saw yesterday but an athletic hot dad in gym shorts. I have to look away. Second of all, does he not realize the way he talks to me? Still, I can’t blame my boss so I err on the side of personal issues.
“Look, it’s nothing,” I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “I’m just stressed because I need this job.”
“Isn’t this one of the best nanny jobs around, though? Your agency assured me you would be thrilled to have it.”
“I am. It’s great. It’s just that…” I pause, wondering how much I should tell him. Maybe honesty would be the best policy here. He would see me as a human being and not a lower-level sex object he can order around. “I’m not even supposed to be nannying. I’m supposed to be working at Lodwick Brothers right now.”
His eyebrows fly up. “The bank?”
“Yes, the bank,” I say. “And once things calm down in the industry, I’ll be working at another bank, making what I was supposed to be making before everything went kaput. Without half the aggravation.”
“Aggravation?”
Is he really that clueless? “Yes, Mr. Hardwin. You’re micromanaging me. You’re watching every move I make, which is making me even more nervous. If you hired me, you should just trust me that I’m going to do a good job.”
“I’ll trust you when I can see that you’re handling things.”
“See, that’s what I mean. I want to be treated with respect instead of ridiculed.”
“I’m not ridiculing you, Miss Frasier. Telling you your tank top with the unicorn on it doesn’t befit the business woman you clearly are, now that would be ridiculing you.” He smiles.
And there goes my core again, melting under the heat of his gaze again. How does he compliment me and insult me in the same breath? I just sigh. “Okay, I suppose.”
“How long do you intend to work for me, because I had hoped to hire a nanny who would stick with Liam for the long run, and now you’ve told me you’ll be leaving the seco
nd you can. Doesn’t exactly leave me feeling confident about this situation. Just be honest.”
I did just say that, didn’t I?
That was stupid. He could let me go right now after that admittance.
“I’ll be working for you for a while,” I say, trying to save my ass. Think money, Alana. Think savings. “The industry won’t bounce back for a long time, so yeah, I’m here for the long haul. No worries.”
“No worries? It’s clear you don’t want to be here, clear you don’t think I’m respecting you. How can I keep you onboard when you’ll be out of there the first chance you get?”
Our gazes lock. His dark brown eyes and mine, searching, trying to figure this quandary out. Part of me wants to throw my hands up and just leave. I don’t need this shit. But then I remember that I do—I need this shit. I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything, except a good fuck by a man like Kase Hardwin.
Holy shit.
I wipe my forehead. “Please don’t fire me.”
It’s all I can say. I hear the idea in his mind, feel the words poised on his lips. I’m about to be let go.
“Why shouldn’t I?” he asks.
“Because I’m not a quitter. I need this. I’ll do anything you ask from now on, and I won’t complain about it. I’ll prove myself to you.”
My words clearly unlock some sort of deeply-rooted curiosity, because his eyebrow crooks upwards. “Anything I ask?”
I’m in trouble. So much fucking in trouble. I would do anything this man asks of me right now, even if it means stripping down naked and sucking his cock dry. I want him. My body knows it, as much as my brain doesn’t want to admit it. I want him so badly. I’ve never felt this way about any man before in my entire life. He goes against everything I’ve ever thought to be sexy, but that’s how little I know. How much I have to learn.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, and that hard place is Kase Hardwin.
I just know, the minute he leaves me alone with my combusting self, that I’m going to take a long bath, that I’m going to use those arms and that mouth and that body as fuel for my fantasies all night, and that at some point, I’m going to come so hard just from thinking about his lips touching me. Oh, yeah. I’m going down with this sinking ship for sure.
“Anything you need,” I repeat. “And anything you want from me, too.”
Kase
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of Evie’s bedroom, I think about Alana and how she’s only twenty feet down the hall in another bedroom. In Evie’s guest bedroom, the shiny one with the salmon and pink accents, the Victorian décor, the one fit for a queen, not a nanny. Except that Alana deserves to sleep there. She may not have much experience as a nanny, but she’s worked damn hard.
You don’t get hired by Lodwick Brothers unless you’ve worked your ass off.
When she told me that, I was thoroughly impressed. But it does present a problem. Should I keep her working for me? It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be caring for kids and the first chance she gets to escape this job, she will. I promised Liam I would take care of him, promised him I would give him the same care his mother would have provided, and there’s no way Evie would’ve let a half-ass nanny take care of her own flesh and blood.
My best friend adored Liam.
I need to find someone who will adore him just the same.
It’s obvious that Alana isn’t the best choice, but I can’t seem to let her go. The young woman is clearly sucking up some major pride to be here helping me. She needs the money, and more than that, I can’t stop staring at her, listening to her talk, and watching her fumble in her interactions with Liam. In a way, I hope she’ll fail miserably as a nanny so I can continue to show her how it’s done.
She’s just down the hall.
Twenty feet away.
Probably in that T-shirt, ready for bed. What does she do before bed, I wonder? I so fucking badly want to go over there and crack the door open, see what she’s up to, but I’ve never been a stalker and I’m not about to start now. That blonde hair all pinned up is probably loose around her shoulders now. Those glasses are probably set on her nightstand. Does she touch herself while she’s lying in bed?
I saw the way she watched me tonight as we had our little discussion. I know she wants me as much as I want her, but we can’t do anything about it. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to lurk down the hall, go grab a glass of water, and see if maybe I can’t hear her talking on the phone or something. That wouldn’t be stalking. That would simply be overhearing. After all, this is where I live now—Evie’s house, now mine, since her old man still thinks we were married before her death—and I’m allowed to roam the hallways if I so feel like it.
Sometimes I feel guilty for living in a mansion I don’t own. But then I remember that I’ve had a hard life. My mother raised me all alone, died before I graduated college, leaving me to my own devices. Soon after, my best friend died as well, leaving me her awesome little kid. When her boyfriend left her high and dry, I was there for her. If anyone’s allowed to live in Evie’s place, care for her son, and not feel guilt, it’s me. I just have to keep telling myself that.
In my shorts, I slide off the bed and head out the door, determined to get a glass of water without waking Liam. Since his mother died, he’s had trouble sleeping the whole night long, and the kid has to find a way of moving on—just like I did. I’m at the top of the stairs, about to descend into the darkness of the house when I hear it.
A soft moan.
It sounds like it could be coming from a TV or electronic device. Maybe my resident nanny likes watching porn before bed? I immediately harden at the thought. I’d be good with that. Then again, maybe she’s crying softly in her sleep? Tiptoeing closer to her room, I crane my neck to hear better. Another soft moan. And another. Her bathroom door is open, the lights are off, but I can smell the sweet scents of bath bombs and other bath items. She must’ve taken a fresh bath just a short while ago.
More than likely, she’s lying naked in bed.
I’ll do anything, her words echo in my mind.
I can’t help myself and enter the bathroom, touch her towel which is still damp, and hold it close to my face. Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t be a fucking creep, creeping around. If I’m going to be obsessed with this chick, then I’m going to have to be straightforward about it. Besides, it’s my house now, and I’m allowed to enter any room I damn well please.
Knocking lightly outside her door, I crack open and wait for her to acknowledge. I’m not one for peeping when uninvited, but for some reason, I can’t help myself. I need to know why Alana’s moaning is getting louder. She’s touching herself, I know it, and I have to see it for myself.
“Mr. Hardwin.” She gasps, pulls the comforter up to her chin. “Do you need something?”
My cock can answer that, and it will as soon as she sees the tent I’ve pitched in my shorts. I only get harder when I see that she’s in a tight tank top in bed, her hair all wet, and her hard nipples poking through the ribbed fabric. “I heard a sound like moaning and wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Of course she’s alright. She’s imagining herself getting reamed by your cock just like you were dreaming about her in your room, idiot.
“I must’ve been having a bad dream,” she says. So fucking cute when she lies.
“It didn’t sound like such a bad dream. Are you sure it was a nightmare?” I could leave her room and bid her goodnight, but I can’t. I won’t. We both know what’s going on, and I have to see her, hear those sounds coming from her mouth right this very second.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Her wide eyes regard me across the room with fear, nervousness, embarrassment for having been caught in the middle of something naughty. “Have you decided whether to keep me or not?”
“I’ve given it some thought, but I’m still not sure. I need someone who’s into it, Alana. Someone who’ll stay.”
“I’ll stay. I’ll do anything you tell me, Mr. Ha
rdwin. I swear.”
“You shouldn’t swear. Dirties your mouth. You have a pretty mouth, you know,” I say. She stares at me. Through me. Her nostrils flare, and I can almost hear her heart pounding through the flimsy tank top. “Show me what you were doing before I walked in.”
“What do you mean? I was…sleeping.”
“No, you weren’t. Show me what you were doing. I promise I won’t touch you. Unless you want me to. I want to see for myself. Hands off.” I hold my hands up to show she can trust me.
She stutters and her face flares up with heat. “I already told you, I was sleeping.”
No fucking way was she sleeping.
I walk in and sit in a leather chair opposite her bed, facing her. My hand rests lightly on my crotch. If I could pull it out and stroke it, I would, but Alana seems new at this. If we enter into forbidden territory, we enter at our own risk and at her first move.
“Don’t lie to me, Alana. Show me what you did. Were you touching that wet pussy of yours and thinking of me?”
At first, our eyes are locked. I can feel her holding her breath, thinking hard about her response, but she doesn’t think too long about it. Apparently, she’s just as tired of playing this game as I am. “Yes,” she says.
I nod. “Good. Show me.”
“What do you mean?” she stammers, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“I mean, pull down that sheet and spread your legs, Alana. Show me what you were doing before I came in. I heard you moaning. Were you thinking about me fucking you?”
“Yes,” she says, resigned, laying back. I’m about to tell her to pull down the covers again when she does it without me telling her. She’s in light pink panties, and when she spreads her legs apart slightly, I can see she’s soaking through.
“Good. Now face me and do it. You’re beautiful, Alana. But I want to see how even more gorgeous you can get. Touch yourself.”
Sliding her hand into her panties, she closes her eyes and begins to touch herself, using two fingers to fiddle with her clit. Every so often, she dips down lower and fingers her pussy before bringing her fingertips back to her clit again. All this through her panties, but my imagination fills in what my eyes can’t see.