by Wade, Dani
But he missed his family in ways he didn’t know how to express. As he watched his new nanny settle the hot baking sheet onto the counter and the kids fish the gooey cookies off with spatulas, the rare domesticity of the moment hit him. As if she felt it too, Taylor looked up at him with a shy smile. A few brief seconds of communion before she turned back to make sure the hot cookies were actually landing on the cooling racks.
“How about Risk?” she asked.
To his surprise, everyone enthusiastically agreed. A game of strategy and domination. Somehow he had the feeling tonight was only the beginning of the game.
Chapter Three
“Maybe I should just go with Jane?” McKayla whined, her voice even higher than normal. An overabundance of teenage emotions practically shimmered in the air. “But what if I don't get home before Dad gets up?”
Taylor struggled to suppress a sigh. Teenage girls could obsess for hours on end, but McKayla was severely testing Taylor's limits. She'd been wavering back and forth about whether to go out for the last forty-five minutes. In that amount of time, she could probably have gone and been back by now.
“McKayla, your dad will be here when you get home,” she soothed while irritation at Michael Korvello built in the background. The man hadn't shown up before three a single day in the week since he came home. From what she could tell, he stayed up late into the night, long after they all went to bed. And his kids were the ones missing out on summer fun. They were afraid to go anywhere or do anything in case a chance to spend time with him passed them by.
And it was clear they wanted that time, more than the average teenager on summer break.
“Trust me,” McKayla complained. “You never know when he'll leave again, even if he did say he’d be here until September. A special gig might come up. A recording session. I just want to hang out with him while he's here.”
As her heavily-lashed hazel eyes filled with tears, then overflowed, Taylor's anger grew. Not with McKayla, but with Mr. Hot Ass Rock Star who couldn’t keep normal hours while he was at home.
Not that she was anxious to see him again herself. He did his best not to look her way or touch her, even casually. His rejection of her stupid offer of cookie dough still burned. Why had she done that? And eating it in front of him only opened the door for Bradley’s past insults to re-emerge.
Fatty. Do you honestly need another cookie on those thighs?
So the nightmares began all over again. She pretended that she didn’t notice Michael’s stiff way of behaving around her, and kept herself in the background as much as possible to give the kids his full attention. Then tried not to notice how he smiled and laughed with them.
When he actually bothered to show up.
She glanced at Matthew, hoping for some support, but he was blinking. The sight of him trying to control his own emotions while he watched his sister was too much.
That did it. Michael Korvello was going to get a piece of her mind. But until then…
“How about you invite Jane out to lunch? After that, your dad will be up and y'all can hang out and swim for the afternoon. You invite someone too, Matthew.” She took a deep breath, mentally crossing her fingers. “How’s that sound?”
Thank goodness, it was just the pacifier the kids needed. After shipping them off to collect their friends in the family SUV with Byron, Taylor’s stomped on bare feet toward the wing of the house she hadn't visited since she'd moved in.
With each step, her anger transformed into nerves, but remembering two teens and their teary eyes spurred her forward. She was the nanny and as such, needed to look out for McKayla’s and Matthew’s best interests.
Michael didn’t seem to understand just how lucky he was to have such great kids. And he was clueless how to deal with them. They were like three boats without engines or compasses.
Her own loneliness, lurking ever since her parents had died in a car accident two and a half years ago, surged forward. She beat it back, focusing on her steps and her mission.
She might not be taking the traditional route by trying to force a parent to be involved—real nannies probably filled the emotional void themselves—but she was going on gut instinct here. Besides, the last few years had taught her she wasn't a traditional kind of girl. At least, not in the religious sense that had permeated her southern upbringing.
After a couple of wrong turns, she finally reached the corridor leading to Michael's suite and had to stop. The sight of several oversize photos on canvas, black-and-white against the buttery yellow walls, held her breathless. A much younger Michael, bare-chested, in jeans, cradled his babies in various poses. His large hands held their tiny bodies with confidence, like he was used to taking care of something so small, so fragile. Those gray-blue eyes practically jumped out at her—they were shining with love and vulnerability.
Where was this Michael? The bad-boy rocker with a tender side. The father who’d do anything for the child in his arms. The man who understood the responsibility he’d been blessed with.
This was the father Matthew and McKayla needed. And by God, she wasn’t walking away until they had him.
That resolution gave her the courage to continue down the hall and through the double doors. Darkness shrouded the room on the other side, despite it being almost twelve thirty. The same creamy walls as the corridor reflected tiny slivers of light peeping around navy curtains, giving her the barest impression of a body-sized lump under the matching comforter in the middle of the bed.
Not giving herself a chance to think, she crossed to the window nearest the bed and jerked the curtains back. Then the next set of windows. Then the next, until sunlight streamed into the artificial cocoon.
“What the—”
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” she said, struggling to keep a sneer from her voice. Didn’t sound like she succeeded.
Something moved; then Michael sat up in the middle of the bed. The blanket fell to his waist, revealing naked, tanned skin sprinkled with a dusting of dark hair. She swallowed hard to loosen her tight throat. This is more important than your libido, Taylor.
“What do you think you are doing?” he groaned.
That warning voice went straight to her nervous system, setting off alarm bells. Good and bad alarms. Keeping her eyes averted, she hid her reactions behind her best parent/teacher conference voice. “I realize it’s rude to wake someone who’s sleeping, but your children—”
He jerked fully upright, drowsiness shaken away in an instant. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
A frown tugged at her forehead. “Why?” she asked, her gaze wandering back over him then skittering away again. “You’d know if you weren’t sleeping every day away.”
He stared at her a few moments, as if trying to figure out why she was really here through osmosis. “What is this? A life lesson?” he joked, though the tension didn’t dissolve from those tight, very naked shoulders.
Boy was it hard to maintain righteous indignation in the face of all that skin. But his condescending smile helped get her back on track.
“Listen, I just spent the morning dealing with two crying teenagers who desperately want to spend time with their father. You don’t get to make the jokes.”
That brought out a full-on glare.
“Entertainment isn't my job,” she explained. “It’s yours. You do it every day for rabid fans. Now it’s time to do it for your kids.”
The noise she heard could have been classified as a growl, but whatever it was shot straight to secret places that seemed to be heating up over this little argument. “Are you presuming to order me around?” he ground out. “I’m the boss here. Besides, you don't know me. You know nothing about me.”
He was right. She didn’t. But his actions spoke pretty clearly. He either didn’t know how to be a father or didn’t care. Those pictures said he cared.
“I know your kids. They not only need you, they want you with them. Do you know how special that is at this age?” She softened her tone,
hoping to get through to him.
His body didn’t move an inch, his gaze steady as he faced her. Though short, his black hair was pillow tousled, his eyes barely blinking, his jaw scruffy once more with a heavy day’s growth of beard. What would that feel like against her neck? Her breasts? Wrangling her thoughts, she forced herself to meet that still-sleepy gaze. “Well?”With a resigned sigh, he lay back against the pillows, displaying the same bare chest she’d seen in the portraits in the hallway. Only the muscles were mature now, defined. The light covering of dark hair narrowing at his waist was even more tempting than his face. “Do you know how late we’re up on the road?” he asked, the words almost a weary sigh that drew her gaze back up. “Every night. For months sometimes.”
“Are you still on the road…or are you home?”
His only answer was a slow blink.
“Meals are important face time with kids this age. They have looked for you every day at lunch, only to be disappointed.”
“Are you sure it’s not the broccoli Susan insists on serving?”
Damn man. “Don’t be a smart-ass. This is your family we’re talking about.”
He relaxed into the mattress like a king taking her presence for granted. His eyes drifted closed, turning her outburst into the equivalent of a childish temper tantrum. “And you’ve decided you’re the boss, huh?”
That anger made another appearance in two seconds flat. She hated being dismissed. “Somebody needs to be.” Crossing the room as fast as her short stride would take her, she made a grab for the edge of the covers. “Get up. Come downstairs. Spend time with your kids.”
Before she could complete the motion, Michael had regained control. Both hands now clutched warred over territory. His eyes flashed, but she couldn’t recognize the emotion behind it.
“Look,” he bit out. “I love my children. I take care of their physical needs, provide for them. As you’ve seen, I give them a home. So, I don’t know how to make us a family.” The eyes that had examined her like an experiment every time they were together now seeming to plead without softening an inch. “I never have.”
Those pictures in the hallway proved otherwise. “Just be with them, Michael,” she said through the tightness of her throat. “Look at them, watch them, spend time with them. They’ll tell you what they need in their own way.” She stood for long moments more, wishing she didn’t sound so bossy and know-it-all, but years spent in full classrooms had taught her a lot. Matthew and McKayla’s needs were simple if he’d only take the time to see them.
“They want to be with you,” she repeated. A smile worked its way out, snagging his attention. “That is a rare gift. Enjoy it.”
“At their age the last thing I wanted was to spend time with my mom.”
A rare, half grin made an appearance, melting her insides. She told herself he didn’t mean anything by it, but her body had other ideas.
Definitely time to go. She retreated a few steps, then resumed her best schoolteacher’s voice. “Good. I think we’re on the same page. Now, get your butt out of bed and join us.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Then that regal air reappeared as he stood, capturing her attention with his full, commanding glory.
It wasn’t until he closed the door to the bathroom behind him that she realized she’d just watched her very naked boss walk across the room with her mouth hanging open. Probably drooling.
He was indeed qualified to be a rock star.
Chapter Four
She should have let his lazy ass stay in bed.
Although considering the state of it, he worked out pretty often. But that wasn’t the point. It wouldn’t have helped her anyway. She was going to have to get in the pool in front of him at some point. But maybe she could already be in the water before he graced them with his presence. Less exposure time.
She could still beat him there if she hurried. Pulling on her modest black one-piece, she shimmied out of her clothes in the dressing room. Across the narrow corridor, she could hear McKayla changing too, and Jane next door. Matthew was down the hall in the men’s locker rooms with his friend. Not only did the Korvello’s have an indoor/outdoor pool, they also had locker rooms for changing and showering off. Pretty sweet. And it meant she didn’t have to traipse through the house in her swimsuit—thank goodness.
What normal woman wanted to parade half-naked in front of a rock star? Especially one as built as Michael Korvello?
Breathing deeply, she tried to banish the vision from her mind and calm her racing heart. But it didn’t seem to be helping any. Her skin broke out in a sweat that made it even harder to pull the stretchy material up over her stomach.
“We’re going out,” McKayla called as she hurried by.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” And please let it be a minute before Michael.
Her total lack of professionalism this morning just might make her expire from humiliation. She thought she’d kept a pretty tight lid on her reactions to him since he’d been home. Her reawakened sexuality was disconcerting enough. Having him realize how much she craved even a little taste of him would burn her alive with embarrassment.
Just as she got the swimsuit straps secure, her cell phone rang. Normally she wouldn’t take it with her to the pool, but she needed to be available in case something happened to Granny. Glancing at the display, she kissed her chances of slipping beneath the concealing water good-bye.
“Hey, Stephen. What’s up?”
“How’s it going, my friend?” he asked. “Still enjoying yourself?”
I was. “Sure. The kids are great.”
“I hear Michael is home now. Pretty intense character, isn’t he?”
“He’s interesting, all right.”
Something in her tone must have been off. “Any problems?” he asked, his voice deepening with that genuine concern she knew so well.
None that I can admit to anyone else. “No, I’m fine. What’s up?”
“Let me just start by saying, Granny is fine.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing. Didn’t I just say that?”
“Well, yes…”
“Look. I got a call from her old nursing home this morning. Looks like Bradley has been nosing around over there, trying to figure out where she’s been transferred to.”
Taylor’s throat tightened. “Is she going to be safe?”
“She is, Taylor. Trust me. I’ve hidden her as well as I would my own grandmother under the circumstances, okay?”
She tried to breathe deep and still her racing heart. Stephen knows what he’s doing. And he loved Granny almost as much as she did. “Okay.” She wrapped her towel around herself as best she could and shoved her feet into flip-flops before making her way to the door.
“I just want you to be aware of what’s going on—not to scare you, but so you don’t feel left in the dark,” he said.
“You better.”
“Oh, I don’t want to be on the receiving end of the death stare.”
She smiled. “I reserve that for kids.”
“Not always. I can still feel the burn.”
Taylor rang off, laughing, which was probably Stephen’s intention all along. For the moment Granny was safe. That’s what she had to focus on. No worries for today—well, except for wearing a bathing suit in front of a man who had probably seen more naked females than a gynecologist.
Maybe she was exaggerating, but not by much if you believed the gossip. Adjusting her straps, she let the nerves rush over her, then pulled open the door.
A quick peek into the common hallway showed no signs of life, so she stepped out into the open, only to lose her grip on her towel. She caught the edge quick enough to keep it from hitting the floor, but thank goodness no one saw her ungraceful juggle and exposed thighs.
A groan echoed through the hallway.
Too late. With a quick shimmy she righted it, securing the fluffy length high around her not-so-tiny waist. How much skin did he see?
Then
Michael’s husky, slightly sarcastic voice snuck up from behind her. “Oh, come on. Fair’s only fair, right?”
The reminder of seeing him naked kept her frozen a moment too long. Glancing over her shoulder, she found him much closer than she had anticipated, just feet from her. His shadowed gaze traveled up and down her length, as if to take in every exposed curve…and judge her for it. So much for hoping he’d stubbed his toe.
His hooded eyes and shuttered expression weren’t telling her anything. He checked her out like she was an inept prostitute trying to practice her wiles on him—unsuccessfully. Full of suspicion and something she could swear was anger, but it didn’t match his snarky statement.
Maybe she could make amends by apologizing for her pushiness in his bedroom?
“Look, Michael, I’m really sorry about this morning-”
“Don’t be. I know I can be a selfish ass on occasion.” His gaze seemed to have paused somewhere in the vicinity of her upper back. Right at the towel line. His eyes narrowed, hiding his thoughts. “It isn’t often that someone calls me on it.”
Okaaay. Was that good or bad?
She tried again. “I just want you and the kids to make the most of what you have.” While you still have it, unlike me.
He didn’t respond, which made her even more uncomfortable. She paused for a moment longer than necessary, praying he’d say something, but no such luck. With an old-fashioned gesture, he allowed her to precede him to the door.
Great. Give him even more of a jiggly show. Her legs refused to work for a minute. Just move, damn it. She acquiesced with ill grace but quickly tried to cover it up.
Somehow she knew she didn’t succeed.
Her body had never been skinny, not even as a teenager. She’d had curves galore, and added some weight after her parents died that she’d only been able to shed in the last year. After the kick-ass glimpse she’d had of Michael this morning—well, needless to say having him eyeing her ass as she walked to poolside and dropped her towel wasn’t an appealing thought.