The Nanny Who Saved Christmas

by Michelle Douglas

  ‘Is that okay with you, Cade?’ she asked as something midway between a scowl and a grimace shadowed his face. Maybe he’d wanted to do something with Ella and Holly this afternoon and had needed her assistance, or—

  He shook his head. ‘I should’ve left ten minutes ago when haircuts and stuff came up. Secret women’s business,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘Before you go, darling, we’re all dressing up tonight and eating in the dining room.’

  ‘Fine. Whatever.’ He rolled his eyes in Nicola’s direction. ‘My mother loves to dress up for dinner. She’d have us do it every night if she could.’

  ‘But while I’m here I content myself with once or twice a week,’ Verity said with a sweet smile. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Nicola?’

  She was to be included? She remembered the deal she’d made with Cade. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘I think it’s nice for Ella and Holly. I don’t want them growing up into barbarian tomboys. I hope they can out-ride, out-muster and out-run every male on the property, but I want them to have nice manners while they’re doing it. And while it might be seven hundred kilometres to the nearest shopping mall, that doesn’t mean they should be deprived of the delights of nice clothes and dressing up.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum—’ Cade dropped a kiss to the top of Verity’s head ‘—for as long as you’re around, you have a more than willing disciple in my avaricious eldest daughter.’

  As if she knew he was talking about her, Ella lifted her big blue eyes and said, ‘I’m wearing my yellow dress tonight.’

  ‘And you’ll look like a princess,’ he informed her.

  Nicola bit her lip. What on earth was she going to wear?

  Cade seized the last sandwich and headed for the back door. He turned as he pushed it open. ‘But in return for such a generous display of male tolerance, I want to enlist everyone’s help in putting up the Christmas lights tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Of course, darling,’ his mother said.

  ‘Not getting me up a ladder,’ Harry muttered.

  ‘Do we have lots of lights, Daddy?’ Ella asked, her face glowing with excitement.

  ‘Trillions,’ he assured her, his eyes suddenly twinkling as they met Nicola’s for the briefest of moments. And then he was gone.

  * * *

  Nicola, Verity and Dee spent the afternoon primping and preening. Dee set Verity’s hair in hot rollers. Verity coloured Dee’s hair and while the timer was set for the colour to take, she cut Nicola’s hair. Unlike at a hairdressing salon, there was no large mirror for Nicola to watch and marvel as the deed was done. Instead, she sat on a chair on the shady side of the veranda, a towel firmly clasped at her throat, while Verity snipped away.

  She was aware of an enormous amount of hair falling to the ground. She swallowed as a particularly long strand caught on her arm. Oh, good Lord, how much was Verity cutting off? She’d be bald!

  She was aware of a growing sense of lightness. She didn’t know if she liked it or not.

  ‘There, all done.’ Verity moved in front of her, lifting Nicola’s chin with one finger to survey her with a critical eye. ‘Perfect! Now, don’t look down to see how much is gone. It’ll only make your stomach clench with nerves. It’s lovely, trust me.’

  Nicola didn’t have much choice but to do exactly that. It was far too late to put the hair back. But she couldn’t help glancing down at the hair that had collected around her all the same and, as Verity had predicted, her stomach clenched.

  The older woman swept the hair off the edge of the veranda and into the garden below. ‘It’s wonderful for the roses,’ she confided.

  Nicola didn’t bother telling her she was sweeping them into the agapanthus rather than the roses.

  Verity and Dee wouldn’t let her look in the mirror when they returned to Verity’s suite of rooms with its enormous bathroom. Verity put highlights in her hair and Nicola’s stomach clenched even tighter. What if they turned out brassy orange or some shade of ghastly? She wanted a new image, she hungered for a new image, but...

  What if, after all this work, she still looked like an overweight frump? What if she couldn’t change? What if she really was a failure and a doormat and—?

  Her stomach swirled. Bile rose in her throat. To take her mind off her doubts, she painted Dee and Verity’s nails. Dee chose hot pink. Verity chose scarlet. Nicola painted her own nails gold. It seemed...Christmassy. And she had a deal to keep.

  They talked fashion. Nicola confessed to having packed only one nice dress and a pair of black trousers that, at a pinch, she could dress up.

  Dee’s laptop was promptly brought out and Nicola was introduced to the joys of online shopping. She ordered clothes she’d have never bought except for Dee and Verity’s urgings, their pronouncements that this top or that skirt or dress would be perfect for her. They were both so stylish and the clothes were oh-so-pretty that Nicola gulped and decided to trust them. By the time they were finished she was several hundred dollars poorer.

  ‘They’ll be here within a week,’ Dee said, rubbing her hands together.

  Oh, good Lord, what had she done?

  With a defiant toss of her head, she unclenched her hands and relaxed her shoulders. She didn’t have a wedding to pay for any more and a girl was entitled to the occasional treat, right? Dee and Verity didn’t look the least bit guilty and they’d spent as much money as she had. It wouldn’t hurt her to emulate them a bit more.

  Poised, confident, self-possessed. She repeated the litany silently to herself as her hair was rinsed and blow-dried.

  Verity stepped back with a wide smile. ‘Okay, darling, time for the grand unveiling.’

  Nicola’s stomach immediately cramped. She did her best to keep the voice in her head, the voice so like her mother’s, which criticized and nagged and told her she’d never measure up, quiet as Verity and Dee led her to a mirror.

  She lowered her eyes, dragged in a deep breath and then forced her gaze upwards.

  Her jaw dropped.

  She lifted a hand to touch her hair.

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘You’ve made me look pretty,’ she whispered.

  ‘Darling.’ Verity put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, beaming at her in the mirror. ‘You are beautiful. And you were before all of this.’

  No, she hadn’t been pretty before. But now...

  She couldn’t believe the transformation. Her chestnut hair was sleek and shiny, the lighter highlights bringing out the colour of her eyes and complementing her skin tone.

  When she shook her head, her hair swished about her in a light and flirty perfumed cloud. ‘You’re a magician!’

  ‘Nonsense, you were just hiding yourself behind all that hair, that’s all. It’s lovely to see your face.’

  You’ll never be the kind of woman to turn a man’s head, Nicola Ann.

  She lifted her chin. I beg to differ, Mum.

  Would she turn Cade’s head?

  ‘In the same way,’ Dee added, ‘you hide that lovely figure of yours beneath clothes that are much too baggy.’

  That snapped her to. ‘Lovely figure?’ It took a concerted effort not to snort. Dignified. Friendly and dignified. ‘I am way too curvy.’ Fat. ‘I need to lose at least ten kilos.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Verity said crisply. ‘You’re perfect. You have gorgeous curves. I miss my curves.’ She ran her hands down her sides from bust to hip. ‘I seem to be shrinking
as I get older.

  ‘But you look lovely,’ Nicola blurted out.

  ‘The secret is good foundation garments.’ Verity’s eyes twinkled and Nicola couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Besides, I firmly believe that men who only like stick insects have an innate hatred of women. I, for one, have never been the slightest bit interested in pleasing them. My darling Scott, Cade and Dee’s father, liked a full womanly figure. He was a big admirer of Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell. He’d have hated all of this obsession with being skinny.’ Her eyes twinkled again. ‘And I’m pleased to say his son takes after him.’

  Nicola blinked. Heavens, Verity didn’t think there was anything going on between her and Cade, did she? She opened her mouth to disabuse her of any such notion, but Verity swung her back to the mirror. ‘Dee has a dress that would look perfect on you. It’d nip you in at the waist and give you the perfect hourglass outline.’

  ‘Ooh, yes, the cherry-red. It’d look fabulous with your hair too. You must wear it tonight. Such a transformation deserves a proper celebration.’

  Nicola had to blink back tears as she suddenly realised female solidarity wasn’t dead. It was alive and thriving in the world. She turned from the mirror to face the two women. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply with a smile from the heart.

  * * *

  When Nicola walked into the dining room that evening, Cade’s eyes widened. The world tilted to one side and he had to brace his legs to keep his balance. The woman had killer curves!

  Femme fatale. The words thumped through him, punching him in the solar plexus and emptying his lungs of air. Femme fatale had been the furthest thought from his head when she’d climbed out of the plane earlier in the month, but now...

  He shook himself. He had to stop from lingering on the way her dress hugged her body. He had to get his mind off those curves—well and truly off them or he’d embarrass himself.

  Farm business. Think farm business! Calving, branding, mustering...riding in all the wildness of Waminda Downs with nothing but scrub and rock and the line of the hills in the distance...the curvaceous line of those hills and—

  He shook his head in an attempt to snap out of the fog he’d descended into. To one side his mother and sister beamed at him and the tie he’d donned for dinner tightened around his throat. Colour flooded Nicola’s cheeks and her gaze darted away as if she was embarrassed or afraid of what he might say. She fussed about, placing Holly in her high chair and helping Ella into her seat. A strange tenderness filled him then, helping him to chain his rampant desires back under control. ‘Nicola?’

  She glanced up and he took his time surveying her new hairstyle. His mother and Dee hadn’t ruined her, and they hadn’t turned her into a plastic version of herself. They’d somehow managed to reveal the beautiful woman who had been posing as an ordinary girl for far too long.

  She stole his breath.

  ‘You look beautiful.’

  She smiled then—that smile that could bowl a man over. ‘Thank you.’

  * * *

  She bowled him over the next morning too—even though she’d returned to her usual attire of long cotton shorts and a baggy T-shirt as she and the children painted Santa pictures.

  But he knew the curves that hid beneath her clothes now. He could picture them in his mind. And if she let him kiss her again—

  He snapped that thought off and went to break in a brand new colt—a far more constructive outlet for his energy. He wasn’t kissing Nicola again. She might kiss like a temptress. She might look like a temptress. But neither one of them needed the complication.

  If he could just get the thought out of his head.

  * * *

  That thought was still there that afternoon, though, when he assembled everyone to help unwind and test the various strings of fairy lights. Her curves were hidden. Her new hairstyle was too because, at some stage during the day, she’d succumbed to the heat and had pulled it up onto the top of her head. But the most beguiling wisps found their way out of the knot to curl about her neck and ears.

  Pretty ears.

  And a neck a man would love to explore with long, slow kisses and—

  Get a grip, damn it, man!

  He tried not to look at her too much when he was on the ladder and she handed him up row upon row of fairy lights to attach to the frame of the homestead.

  He kept his eyes averted from her that evening after dinner too when it was time for the grand unveiling. When, at the flick of a switch, the house lit up into a sparkling fairyland.

  Fairy lights wound around veranda posts and along the railings. A series of fake icicles hung from the veranda ceiling. Each door and window frame had its own set of lights. So did the shrubs and trees in the garden. Everything winked and twinkled and sparkled. Beside Jamie and Simon, Ella jumped up and down. From her spot in Nicola’s arms, Holly’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed a perfect O. His heart expanded and his shoulders loosened. This—all of it—was for Ella and Holly. He wasn’t going to let anything, not even hormones, get in the way of that.

  His smile slipped when he heard Dee murmur to their mother, ‘It’s a bit over the top, don’t you think? I mean, an entire generator to power fairy lights?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Nicola chimed in. ‘The kids just love it and it really does look pretty. Ella, Jamie and Simon are gobsmacked and will probably talk about this for years to come.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Dee laughed. ‘On his own head be it, though, because I believe he’s just started a new family tradition.’

  ‘If so, it’s a lovely one,’ Verity said. ‘Nicola is right. It looks magical.’

  ‘What do you think, kids?’ Nicola asked. ‘Should there be Christmas lights like this every year at Waminda Downs?’

  A resounding cheer went up from all the children, and Cade knew then that Nicola would do everything in her power to keep her side of the bargain—to make this Christmas the best one yet. He meant to keep his word too, but... What excuse could he come up with tomorrow to keep her away from that darn treadmill? He’d run out of fairy lights.

  He churned the problem over and slowly a grin spread through him. She might have an angel’s own smile but, beneath it, every now and again he’d caught glimpses of a red-hot anger. He didn’t condemn her for it. He understood it.

  And he knew exactly where to channel it.

  * * *

  ‘Not a chance, lady.’

  The voice whipped out from the shade of the corridor as Nicola reached for the door handle of the home gym. She jumped, spun and then pressed her back to the wall and clutched her chest. ‘Cade!’

  She tried to catch her breath. Not always easy around Cade and his watchful blue eyes. ‘Do you make a habit of sneaking up on a body like that?’

  Those eyes twinkled. ‘Well, it’s got to be said—nice body.’ His glance was almost a caress. Her legs went soft and rubbery. ‘But I didn’t sneak up. I’ve been waiting here for you.’

  She moistened her lips. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because a little bird told me that most afternoons when you put the children down for a nap, you head on straight down here.’

  ‘Do you mind?’ Maybe he’d had second thoughts about letting her use his ex-wife’s equipment. Maybe he wanted to keep the ghosts from his past quiet. Maybe he wanted to simply keep that door closed for good.

  ‘I don’t mind at all.’

  She scratched her head. ‘Did you want me to help put up more C
hristmas lights or something?’ She brightened at that thought. Climbing ladders would be far more preferable to a stint on a rowing machine.

  He leaned against the wall opposite, arms folded, and somehow it only emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. ‘Be honest. Do you enjoy using the gym?’

  ‘Enjoy?’ She snorted before she could successfully remind herself that snorting is for pigs, Nicola Ann. ‘Look, I thought we’d established that me and exercise were never going to enjoy each other’s company.’

  ‘You enjoy riding.’

  ‘That’s not exercise. Well,’ she amended, ‘it probably is for Scarlett, but not for me. It’s fun.’

  ‘It tones and strengthens thigh and calf muscles and it improves balance. Of course it’s exercise.’

  She tapped the gym door. ‘I may not like it, but this is doing me good. I can run for ten straight minutes at six point five kilometres per hour on the treadmill now. I could barely manage three minutes when I started.’

  ‘And the rowing machine?’

  Her lip curled. She hated the rowing machine. Oh, who was she trying to kid? She hated that entire gym, but no pain...

  ‘I thought you might like to give something else a try.’

  ‘Like?’

  His mouth curled up. ‘Don’t trust me, huh? I’m the guy that got you hooked on riding, remember?’

  He was also the guy who’d kissed her with a thoroughness that still had her waking up in the middle of the night. A whole host of images assaulted her—a whole variety of ways to get some additional exercise.

  She backed up a step, pointed down the corridor behind her. ‘I’m nearby if one of the children wakes up.’

  ‘I asked Dee to keep an ear out for them over the next hour.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘I don’t want you becoming Dee’s drudge. Those boys are a handful.’

  She snorted again. And then winced. She really had to get better at curbing that habit. ‘They’re great fun and I am in no danger of becoming a drudge. Lord, your mother, sister and housekeeper all help so much with the children that some days I feel I’m hardly pulling my weight.’