If that remark was meant to make him feel guilty, it came dangerously close to being successful. Before he could grab his keys, the phone rang and he picked up the extension in the kitchen. “Hello?”
“Blake?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Mia is at the door and your mother is furious. This is not how it was supposed to go.”
“I’m on my way.”
Blake was used to drama, but it mostly happened in his office. His last thought before dashing out the door was one of gratitude that he had Casey in his corner.
Chapter Four
Casey sat in the front passenger seat of Blake’s Mercedes sedan. She was unaccustomed to being surrounded by luxury, and the softness of the leather surprised her. She wished Mia’s unpredictability surprised her, too, but it didn’t. Even if Blake hadn’t clued her in right after they’d met, she’d seen it for herself the first time Mia took off and disappeared at the Fashion Show Mall.
Now that she knew the girl was safe, relatively speaking—a pun, considering she’d turned up with her grandparents—Casey could admit to herself that the disappearing act was a relief. It took the heat off her.
Blake’s cross-examination about her family background had stirred up memories that she’d rather not revisit. He’d gotten on every nerve she had. In all fairness he hadn’t touched on what had happened in Iraq, but only because he didn’t know about it. And he never would, because it was one more thing she’d rather leave alone.
What she needed to deal with was her current predicament. She didn’t want to care about another kid who would let her down, another child who was playing her. And Mia’s behavior tonight was cause for concern. When she’d seen the empty room and realized the girl was gone, fear had immediately set in. That didn’t happen when her feelings were idling in neutral.
And speaking of neutral, it hadn’t escaped her notice that Blake had planned to kiss her. If only she could have been disinterested, but she’d been far too interested. Stepping away from him had taken discipline, and she wasn’t sure where it had come from or whether she could manage to find it again. Should the need arise, which she prayed didn’t happen.
“We’re almost there,” Blake said, slowing as he steered the car through a set of open guard gates.
His voice pulled her away from the disturbing thoughts and she studied the large entrance. “King Kong gates,” she commented.
“Excuse me?”
“Didn’t you ever see the nineteen thirties movie with Fay Wray? The big ape looks over this gate like it’s a speed bump. Those big iron gates into the neighborhood remind me of that—tall and strong to keep out the big, hairy riffraff.”
He laughed. “I have to face the folks and deal with Mia fallout. Under the circumstances I didn’t think anyone could make me laugh. Thanks for coming along, Casey.”
“You’re welcome.” Then his words sank in. “Mia fallout? What does that mean?”
Without answering, he pulled up in front of an imposing house with impressive columns in front. “Showtime.”
“This looks like Tara,” she said, studying the grand house.
“Another movie reference?”
She nodded. “Gone with the Wind.”
“A Civil War reference.” He looked at her. “You’re about to find out how appropriate that is.”
Just what Casey needed—another war zone. Not. But Mia was clearly feeling the effects of being ignored, and it was understandable. Casey was ready to roll and go to the kid’s defense.
She followed Blake into the house. He didn’t knock and the front door was unlocked.
They heard voices and Blake said, “They’re in the sitting room.”
“Because Tara doesn’t have a family room,” she muttered.
It turned out that the room was right off the entryway and had a fireplace, as well as two hunter green floral love seats facing each other at a right angle to it. A big coffee table and two wing chairs completed the conversation area, but no one was sitting there. Although there was talking, right now Mia was doing most of it.
Blake’s father was a handsome, tall, silver-haired man, a preview of what his son would look like in his later years. A brunette, his mother was in her sixties and was still beautiful. Casey had seen shell shock and knew the older woman was feeling it now.
“My mother was pregnant,” Mia shouted. “You guys threw her away like a piece of trash. Over a baby. It’s not a crime to have a baby.”
“Blake. Thank God you’re here,” his mother said.
“What in the blazes is going on?” his father demanded. He looked at Casey. “Who are you?”
“Casey Thomas.” She walked up to him with her hand extended and he shook it.
“Lincoln Decker,” he said. “My wife, Patricia.”
Casey shook the woman’s hand and, before Blake’s parents could ask, said, “I’m your granddaughter’s nanny.”
“This hooligan?” Lincoln said. “She barged in unannounced and has been accusing us of atrocities ever since.”
“Why don’t we all sit?” Blake suggested. “We can get acquainted.”
“Why?” the older man demanded.
“That goes double for me.” Mia’s comment was a clear indication that she was not taking responsibility for setting this scenario in motion.
“Blake, you’ve hired a nanny. How long has Mia been with you?” his mother whispered.
“Not that long,” Blake hedged.
“Long enough for you to hire a nanny, but not long enough for you to tell us about Mia?” Patricia’s expression was accusatory.
“Dad knew,” Blake said. “Children’s services contacted him first.”
“And you didn’t tell me about her?” Patricia turned the heat of her expression on her husband.
“I was protecting you,” Lincoln said.
“From what?” Patricia demanded.
“That would be me,” Mia interjected. “Delinquent in training.”
The conversation deteriorated from there. As an objective observer without an equal emotional investment, Casey watched the three adults and one child, who all were doing a lot of talking and very little listening. She couldn’t help but notice the family resemblance. A glare here, an angry gesture there. Stubborn chin. The shape of the face. Even to the untrained eye, it was obvious that these people shared DNA, if not harmony. But they were getting nowhere fast.
Casey decided to play UN peacekeeping force. “Time-out,” she said. When no one paid any attention to her, she whistled, a shrill sound that never failed to get her noticed. “Listen up. Everyone needs to sit down.”
Lincoln stared, his displeasure obvious. “Just a moment—”
“Excuse me, sir, but I’m taking control.”
“What gives you the right?” Lincoln demanded.
“Because I’m a calm, impartial spectator, and you’ve had a shock.”
“I’m not a shock,” Mia said, outraged.
“That’s not what your grandmother said,” Casey pointed out, shooting a questioning look at Blake.
“Mom, I was going to explain, but—”
“No buts,” his mother said. “This is one of those situations that don’t call for a but. You should have said something to me. Both of you. I had a right to know. Sooner or later I’d have to know. I can’t believe she’s been here and neither of you said a word to me—”
“Our daughter ran off and broke your heart,” her husband said. “I was protecting you.”
“Everyone please sit,” Casey ordered, when the older woman started to protest.
Four pairs of eyes blinked at her and she stared them down until everyone found a seat. The elder Deckers sat side by side on a love seat, with Blake across from them. Mia was by herself on a wing chair that faced the fireplace.
“This situation could have been handled more diplomatically.” Still standing, Casey gave Mia a look, but the girl wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I think everyone needs to take a step back and let rea
lity sink in.”
“The reality is they’re dorks,” Mia said. “Old ones.”
“I feel so special,” Blake said sarcastically. “I fall into the young dork category.”
“Not helping,” Casey told him. “Be Switzerland.”
“What?”
“Neutral,” Casey explained. “After a cooling-off period, a mutually agreeable time for a mediation should be selected.”
Lincoln looked at his son. “You took responsibility for her. That means you must not let her run wild. You have to control her, Blake.”
“Right. Like you did with April,” Blake shot back. “Or is this a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ situation?”
“Accusations are counterproductive,” Casey said. “Until you can get along—”
“Not holding my breath,” Mia mumbled.
Casey knew how it felt to be an outsider and sympathized with the kid. It was hard not taking her side, but that would most likely result in a resumption of hostilities. It would be detrimental to the peace process.
“Mia,” Casey said in a firm, “listen up, or else” tone. “Please wait for us in the car.”
“But—”
“As your grandmother said, no buts. That’s an order. Orders are meant to be followed without discussion.”
“This is sooo stupid.”
“I think you need another o in there so we know how you really feel,” Blake said.
Casey shook her head. “You’re the adult. Focus. Mia?”
The girl glared for several moments, then presumably did as she’d been told—following a slam of the front door.
Lincoln stared after her for several moments, then looked at Casey. “Well done, young woman.”
“Thank you, sir.” Not my job to judge these people, who are strangers, Casey thought. But how could they fail to acknowledge the child of their child? All the facts were not in evidence, and that was for another time. “As I was saying, take a break. Talk again soon.”
Lincoln nodded. “I like you, Casey. You’ve got spunk.”
“You’re very wise for one so young,” Patricia said.
“Yeah, chalk one up for the young dorks,” Blake muttered.
Casey looked at him and sighed. “I think it’s time for us to go.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” Blake stood and walked to the doorway.
Casey said goodbye to the older couple and followed Blake out onto the front porch. She glanced at the Mercedes and saw Mia slouching against it, and relief flooded her that the girl hadn’t taken off. This was the second time and Casey didn’t trust her to stay put. Again, it was hard not to blame her when she’d had confirmation that her grandfather knew about her and didn’t want her.
As they walked down the steps to the car, Blake said, “You really earned your paycheck tonight.”
“I should get hazard pay for dealing with your family.”
“Amen.”
“So how did I earn my paycheck?” she asked, unable to stop the glow his praise was generating inside her.
“My dad approves of you. You’ve got spunk.”
“Hoo-yah,” she said.
Casey walked from Mia’s bedroom, past her own and into the family room. She glanced outside and spotted Blake on the terrace, staring out at the carpet of light that was the Las Vegas Valley. He had a drink in his hand and she couldn’t blame him. It had been a hell of a night. She was sorry if he wanted to be alone, but she was about to disturb his solitude.
After opening the slider, she went out, instantly feeling the desert heat mix with the cool air from inside. Because this was the top floor of the building, there was room for a pool, and the lights at the bottom illuminated the immediate surrounding area. There was also a fire pit, patio tables, chairs and chaise longues scattered around. It was surreal and magical.
Casey had the most absurd desire to pinch herself, as a reminder that she wasn’t Dorothy, that this wasn’t Kansas or Oz. She wasn’t off to see the wizard, but she and Blake needed to talk.
“Mia’s asleep.”
“That was fast.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“She’s exhausted.” It was warm outside, but considering the daytime temperature had topped out at over one hundred and ten, the breeze made the outside almost comfortable. “It takes a lot of energy to maintain that level of anger.”
“And mobility.” He drained the liquor in his glass and set it on a table. “Did she tell you how she managed to find her way to my parents?”
“She found out where they live from your address book on your computer. Then she took a cab.”
“Do I want to know how she paid for it?”
“Your dad coughed up the fare.”
His dark eyebrows rose in surprise. “Someone feels guilty.”
“As well he should.” Casey leaned her elbows on the metal railing that capped the clear glass separating luxury from certain death if one fell. “I know he’s your dad and you love him, blah, blah. But I can’t believe he knew about Mia and not only didn’t make an effort to know her, but kept it all from your mom.”
A sizzle of heat flashed through her when he rested his forearms beside hers and their shoulders brushed. “Any questions you may have regarding my dysfunctional tendencies should all be answered after meeting Lincoln and Patricia Decker.”
“Some,” she admitted, laughing. “But not all. I got the feeling your mother was a little peeved at him.”
A ghost of a grin curved up the corners of his wonderful lips. “You’re a quick study of human nature.”
“Not really.” And not when it counted the most. If she were, two little kids would still have their mom, and she’d have her best friend when she needed her most.
“You’re right,” he said. “Dad is in for a rough time. I’d say he’ll be sleeping on the couch, but you saw the size of that place.”
“Yeah. I’m guessing he’ll have his choice of Tara’s ten or twelve extra bedrooms when he’s in the doghouse.” Only a slight exaggeration.
“Give or take,” he agreed. “Is there any chance that Mia didn’t understand?”
“You mean the part where her grandfather didn’t want to have anything to do with her, then kept it from his wife to protect the family?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Nope. She understood perfectly.”
“That pretty much sucks.” The silver glow from a nearly full moon highlighted his frown and the tension in his shoulders.
“Yeah. Mia would like him put to sleep. That’s a direct quote.”
“That’s a little harsh, although I can see where she’s coming from.”
Casey straightened and leaned a hip against the railing as she studied him. “Speaking of dysfunctional—”
“Uh-oh.” He half turned toward her and met her gaze, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“You didn’t the first two times I brought it up, but maybe the third time’s the charm.”
“Ever the optimist,” he said dryly.
“Just call me the bluebird of happiness.”
He laughed, then took a deep breath. “Okay. Get it over with.”
“Counseling.” The single word had tension running through him. She was close enough to feel it.
“Casey, we’ve been through this.”
“I take it the third time is not the charm.”
“And you’re like a dog that won’t let loose of a favorite bone.”
“Because,” she said, “I think it’s important. You told me to make the list and you’d write the check. So on top of vitamins, a training bra and supplies for that time of the month—”
He started humming and covered his ears. “This is me not listening to that. And shame on you for mentioning it.”
She laughed. It was such a guy reaction and said more about his feelings than even he realized. But this was serious and important. There was only one way she could think of to get him to listen and understand that she meant b
usiness.
She pushed his hands down. “You’re hilarious.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. Blake, I’m making counseling a condition of my continuing to be Mia’s nanny.”
If only she could give him an ultimatum about toning down his sex appeal, her life would be far less complicated.
He didn’t look surprised. “Is that a card you really want to play?”
“It might be overstepping, but I feel very strongly about this, and I’m willing to take the risk.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
“Stop being charming—”
“You think I’m charming?”
“That’s not the point.”
He grinned a very self-satisfied male grin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You’re changing the subject.” And she was blushing, which she desperately hoped he couldn’t see. The heat wasn’t only in her cheeks. It was everywhere, and her heart fluttered against the inside of her chest like a caged bird struggling for freedom. “I’m very serious about this.”
“I don’t have a lot of faith in counseling,” he said seriously.
“Have you ever tried it?”
“What if I have?” he shot back, defiant and defensive in equal parts.
She remembered saying the same thing to him. Just because a few sessions with an army shrink hadn’t squeegeed the guilt from her conscience didn’t mean he and Mia wouldn’t benefit from talking to someone. His presence alone could go a long way toward convincing the girl he cared. And one didn’t need credentials to see she desperately wanted someone to care. Casey knew how that felt.
“Look, Blake, you’re a good man—”
“Says who?”
“Oh, please. Cut the tough guy act. If you weren’t a decent person, Mia wouldn’t be here now.”
“Neither would you,” he said, a gleam stealing into his eyes.
He was right about that. If the child was in the state’s custody, he’d have no need for nanny services. Life would be easier, but maybe her life wasn’t meant to be easy. Maybe she was here for a reason.
“The thing is, I am here and you have to deal with me. Because I’m here, I have an obligation to that little girl asleep inside. You are a good man, or you’d have let the state of Nevada worry about her.”
The Nanny and Me Page 5