“Why don’t you stay for a few days?” he offered, feeling more than a little guilty that she’d driven all the way from Port Augustine in response to his distress call.
“I wish I could, but I’ve got three full days of meetings scheduled this week.”
“Which you should have told me when I got you on the phone.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I couldn’t not come, not when I heard Riley sobbing in the background.”
And that was why he’d called. His daughter, tired from the journey, had fallen asleep earlier than usual. A few hours later, she’d awakened screaming like a banshee and nothing he said or did seemed to console her. She’d been in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room and Brigitte—her primary caregiver—was on a plane halfway to Iceland. Michael had tried to console Riley, he’d cuddled her, rocked her, put on music for her to listen to, tried to read stories to her, but nothing had worked.
It hadn’t occurred to him to call his mother—the princess royal wouldn’t know what to do any more than he did. It wasn’t in her nature to offer comfort or support. In fact, the only things he’d ever been able to count on his mother to do were interfere and manipulate. So he’d picked up the phone and dialed his sister’s number. During the first year and a half after Sam’s death, before he’d hired Brigitte full-time, Marissa had been there, taking care of both him and his daughter. And, once again, she’d come through when he needed her.
“Do you think I should have stayed in Port Augustine with her?” he asked his sister now.
“That would have meant a much shorter trip for me,” she teased, “but no. I’m glad you’re maintaining the family tradition.”
Except that he didn’t have a family anymore—for the past four summers, it had been just him and Riley. And Brigitte, of course.
“When does the new nanny arrive?”
Marissa’s question drew him back to the present—and to more immediate concerns.
“Tomorrow.”
She tilted her head. “Why do you sound wary?”
“Do I?” he countered.
“Are you having second thoughts about her qualifications?”
“No,” he said, then reconsidered his response. “Yes.”
Her brows rose.
No, because it wasn’t anything on Hannah’s résumé that gave him cause for concern. Yes, because he wasn’t completely convinced that a teacher would be a suitable caregiver for his daughter—even on a temporary basis.
“No,” he decided. “Dr. Marotta would never have recommended her if he didn’t believe she was capable of caring for Riley.”
“Of course not,” his sister agreed. “So what are you worried about?”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even deny that he was worried, because his sister knew him too well to believe it. Worse, she would probably see right through the lie to the true origin of his concern. And he was concerned, mostly about the fact that he’d been thinking of Hannah Castillo far too frequently since their first meeting.
He’d had no preconceptions when he’d agreed to interview her. His only concern had been to find someone suitable to oversee the care of his daughter during the summer—because after conducting more than a dozen interviews, he’d been shocked to realize how unsuitable so many of the applicants had been.
Almost half of them he’d automatically rejected because of their advanced age. Logically, he knew that was unfair, but he had too many unhappy memories of strict, gray-haired disciplinarians from his own childhood. Another few he’d disregarded when it became apparent that they were more interested in flirting with him than caring for his daughter. Two more had been shown the door when they’d been caught snapping photos of his home with the cameras on their cell phones.
At the conclusion of those interviews, he’d almost given up hope of finding a replacement for Brigitte. Then, during a casual conversation with Riley’s doctor, he’d mentioned his dilemma and Phillip had suggested that his niece might be interested in the job—but only for the summer.
So Michael had agreed to interview her and crossed his fingers that she would be suitable. Then Hannah had walked into his office, and suitable was the last thought on his mind.
“Oh,” Marissa said, and sat back, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
He scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“She’s very attractive, isn’t she?”
His scowl deepened.
“I should have guessed. Nothing ever flusters you—okay, nothing except anything to do with Riley,” she clarified. “But this woman has you completely flustered.”
“I am not flustered,” he denied.
“This is good,” Marissa continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And it’s time.”
“Mar—”
She put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. I won’t push for any details.”
“There are no details,” he insisted.
“Not yet,” she said, and smiled.
His sister always liked to get in the last word, and this time he let her. It would serve no purpose to tell her that he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship with Riley’s temporary nanny—it only mattered that it was true.
And he would repeat it to himself as many times as necessary until he actually believed it.
With every mile that Hannah got closer to Cielo del Norte, her excitement and apprehension increased. If she’d been nervous before her previous meeting with the prince—simply at the thought of meeting him—that was nothing compared to the tension that filled her now. Because now she was actually going to live with him—and his daughter, of course.
She could tell herself that it was a temporary position, that she was only committing two months of her time. But two months was a heck of a long time to maintain her objectivity with respect to a man she’d fallen head over heels for when she was only twelve years old, and a little girl who had taken hold of her heart the very first time she’d met her.
Hannah cranked up the radio in the hope that the pulsing music would push the thoughts out of her head. It didn’t.
She wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel, her palms sliding over the smooth leather, and was reminded of the feel of his hand against hers. Warm. Strong. Solid.
She really was pathetic.
She really should have said no when her uncle first suggested that she could be anyone’s nanny. But as she drove through the gates toward the prince’s summer home, after showing her identification to the guard on duty, she knew that she’d passed the point of no return.
Cielo del Norte was even more impressive than the prince’s home in Verde Colinas. Of course, it had once been the royal family’s official summer residence, bequeathed to the princess royal by her father upon the occasion of her marriage to Gaetan Leandres.
Hannah had been advised that there were two full-time employees who lived in a guest cottage on the property, the groundskeeper and his wife. Hannah had been thrilled to hear that Caridad, the housekeeper, also cooked and served the meals, because she knew that if she’d been put in charge of food preparation as well as child care, they might all starve before the end of the summer.
She parked her aging little car beside a gleaming black Mercedes SUV and made her way to the door. An older woman in a neatly pressed uniform responded to the bell.
“Mrs. Fuentes?”
“Sí. Caridad Fuentes.” She bowed formally. “You are Miss Castillo?”
“Hannah,” she said, stepping into the foyer.
“The prince has been expecting you.” There was the slightest hint of disapproval beneath the words.
“I was a little late getting away this morning,” she explained. “And then traffic was heavier than I expected. Of course, taking a wrong turn at Highway Six didn’t help, either, but at least I didn’t travel too far out of my way.”
The housekeeper didn’t comment in any way except to ask, “Are your bags in the car?”
“Yes, I’ll
get them later.”
“Estavan—my husband—will bring them in for you,” Mrs. Fuentes told her.
“Okay. That would be great. Thanks.” She paused, just taking a minute to absorb the scene.
She’d thought passing through the gates at Verde Colinas had been a culture shock, but now she felt even more like a country mouse set loose in the big city. The house, probably three times the size of the prince’s primary residence in Port Augustine, almost seemed as big as a city—a very prosperous and exquisite one.
“There’s a powder room down the hall, if you would like to freshen up before meeting with Prince Michael,” the housekeeper told her.
Hannah nodded. “I would.”
“First door on the right.”
“And the prince’s office?”
“The third door on the left down the west corridor.”
Michael sensed her presence even before he saw her standing in the open doorway. When he looked up, he noticed that she’d dressed less formally today than at their first meeting, and that the jeans and T-shirt she wore made her look even younger than he’d originally guessed. He’d told her that casual attire was acceptable, and there was nothing inappropriate about what she was wearing. But he couldn’t help noticing how the denim hugged her thighs and molded to her slim hips. The V-neck of her T-shirt wasn’t low enough to give even a glimpse of cleavage, but the soft cotton clung to undeniably feminine curves. She wore silver hoops in her ears, and her hair was in a loose ponytail rather than a tight knot, making her look more approachable and even more beautiful, and he felt the distinct hum of sexual attraction through his veins.
Uncomfortable with the stirring of feelings so long dormant, his voice was a little harsher than he’d intended when he said, “You’re late.”
Still, his tone didn’t seem to faze her. “I told you that I would come as soon as possible, and I did.”
“I had a conference call at 8:00 a.m. this morning that I had to reschedule because you weren’t here.”
He expected that she would apologize or show some sign of remorse. Instead she surprised him by asking, “Why on earth would you schedule a conference call so early on the first morning of your vacation?”
“I told you that I would be conducting business from here,” he reminded her. “And your job is to take care of my daughter so that I can focus on doing so.”
“A job I’m looking forward to,” she assured him.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said. “I would expect that someone who spends ten months out of the year with kids would want a break.”
“Spending the summer with a four-year-old is a welcome break from senior advanced English and history,” she told him.
Senior English and history? The implications of her statement left him momentarily speechless. “You’re a high school teacher?” he finally said.
Now it was her turn to frown. “I thought you knew that.”
He shook his head. “Phillip said you would be perfect for the job because you were a teacher—I assumed he meant elementary school.”
“Well, you assumed wrong.” She shrugged, the casual gesture drawing his attention to the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her T-shirt and very nearly making him forget the reason for his concern.
“So what kind of experience do you have with preschool children, Miss Castillo?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to her face.
“Other than the fact that I was one?” she asked lightly.
“Other than that,” he agreed.
“None,” she admitted.
“None?” Dios! How could this have happened? He was the consummate planner. He scheduled appointment reminders in his BlackBerry; he took detailed notes at every meeting; he checked and double-checked all correspondence before he signed anything. And yet he’d somehow managed to hire a nanny who knew absolutely nothing about being a nanny.
“Well, my friend Karen has a couple of kids, and I’ve spent a lot of time with them,” Hannah continued.
He shook his head, trying to find solace in the fact that their agreement was for only two months, but he was beginning to question why he’d been in such a hurry to replace Brigitte. Had he been thinking of Riley—or had he been more concerned about maintaining the status quo in his own life? Or maybe he’d been spellbound by Miss Castillo’s sparkling eyes and warm smile. Regardless of his reasons, he knew it wasn’t her fault that he’d hired her on the basis of some mistaken assumptions. But if she was going to spend the summer with Riley, she had a lot to learn—and fast.
“You’ll need this,” he said, passing a sheaf of papers across the desk.
In the transfer of the pages, her fingers brushed against his. It was a brief and incidental contact, but he felt the jolt sizzle in his veins. Her gaze shot to meet his, and the widening of her eyes confirmed that she’d felt it, too. That undeniable tug of a distinctly sexual attraction.
As he looked into her eyes, he realized he’d made another mistake in thinking that they were blue—they were actually more gray than blue, the color of the sky before a storm, and just as mesmerizing.
Then she glanced away, down at the papers he’d given to her, and he wondered if maybe he’d imagined both her reaction and his own.
“What is this?” she asked him.
“It’s Riley’s schedule.”
She looked back at him, then at the papers again. “You’re kidding.”
“A child needs consistency,” he said firmly, because it was something Brigitte had always insisted upon, and he usually deferred to the nanny with respect to decisions about his daughter’s care.
“If you’re referring to a prescribed bedtime, I would absolutely agree,” Hannah said. “But a child also needs a chance to be spontaneous and creative, and this—” she glanced at the chart again, obviously appalled “—this even schedules her bathroom breaks.”
Maybe the charts Brigitte had prepared for the new nanny did provide a little too much detail, but he understood that she’d only wanted to ease the transition for both Riley and her temporary caregiver. “Brigitte found that taking Riley to the bathroom at prescribed times greatly simplified the toilet-training process.”
“But she’s almost four years old now,” Hannah noted. “I’m sure…” Her words trailed off, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry—I just didn’t expect that there would be so much to occupy her time.”
He’d had some concerns initially, too, but Brigitte had made him see the benefits for Riley. Maybe she was young, but she was so mature for her age, so focused, and she was learning so much. She had a natural musical talent, an artistic touch and a gift for languages, and there was no way he was going to let this temporary nanny upset the status quo with questions and criticisms on her first day on the job. Even if her doubts echoed his own.
“It is now almost eleven o’clock, Miss Castillo,” he pointed out to her.
She glanced at the page in her hand. “I guess that means it’s almost time for the princess’s piano lesson.”
“The music room is at the end of the hall.”
She folded the schedule and dropped a curtsy.
He deliberately refocused his attention back on the papers on his desk so that he wouldn’t watch her walk away.
But he couldn’t deny that she tempted him in more ways than he was ready to acknowledge.
Chapter Three
Well, that hadn’t gone quite as she’d expected, Hannah thought as she exited Prince Michael’s office. And she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, not just with their meeting but in the man himself. She’d thought he might want to talk to her about Riley’s favorite activities at the beach, give her some suggestions on how to keep the little girl busy and happy, but she’d gotten the impression he only wanted her to keep the child occupied and out of his way.
As she made her way down the hall in search of the princess, she realized that she’d never actually seen him with his daughter. The first time she’d met Riley—the day of the ice
cream mishap at the art gallery—the little girl had been in the care of her nanny. When Hannah had arrived at the prince’s house to interview for the position, Riley had been out with Brigitte. She’d gone back for a second visit, to spend some time with the child so that she wouldn’t be a complete stranger to her when she showed up at Cielo del Norte, but she hadn’t seen the prince at all on that occasion.
Now he was in his office, and the princess was apparently somewhere else in this labyrinth of rooms preparing for a piano lesson. Did they always lead such separate lives? Did the prince really intend to spend most of his supposed holiday at his desk?
Once she’d gotten over her wariness about taking a job for which she had no experience, she’d actually found herself looking forward to spending the summer with the young princess. She’d imagined that they would play in the water and have picnics on the beach. She hadn’t anticipated that the little girl wouldn’t have time for fun and frivolity. Yes, she’d been born royal and would someday have duties and obligations as a result, but she wasn’t even four years old yet.
Brigitte had made a point of telling Hannah—several times—that Riley was an exceptionally bright and gifted child who was already reading at a second-grade level—in French. She’d encouraged the young princess to demonstrate her talents at the piano, and Riley had done so willingly enough. Hannah couldn’t help but be impressed, but in the back of her mind, she wondered why the child didn’t seem happy.
Somehow that question had Hannah thinking about what she’d been doing as a four-year-old. Her own childhood had hardly been traditional, but it had been fun. In whatever village had been their current home, she’d always had lots of local children to play with. She’d raced over the hills and played hide-and-seek in the trees. She’d gone swimming in watering holes and rivers and streams. She’d created rudimentary sculptures out of riverbank clay and built houses and castles from mud and grass.
Her parents had never worried about the lack of formal education, insisting that the life skills she was learning were far more important than reading and writing. While the teacher in her cringed at that philosophy now, she did understand the importance of balance between life and learning.
Prince Daddy & the Nanny Page 3