Prince Daddy & the Nanny

by Brenda Harlen

  “Accidents happen,” Hannah said lightly, pulling back the covers to strip away the wet sheet. “It will only—”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Riley insisted. “It was your fault.”

  Hannah knew the child was probably upset and embarrassed and looking to blame anyone else, but she couldn’t help asking, “How, exactly, is it my fault?”

  “You’re supposed to get me up at three-thirty—when the big hand is on the six and the little hand is halfway between the three and the four,” Riley explained. “But now it’s after four o’clock.”

  She probably shouldn’t have been surprised that the child knew how to tell time—that basic skill was hardly on par with speaking foreign languages—and she began to suspect that the next two months with Riley would be more of a challenge than she’d imagined.

  “Brigitte would have woke me up,” Riley said, swiping at the tears that spilled onto her cheeks.

  “Woken,” Hannah corrected automatically as she dropped the sheet into the hamper beside Riley’s closet. “And I know you miss Brigitte a lot, but hopefully we can be friends while I’m here.”

  “You’re not my friend, you’re the new nanny, and I hate you.”

  “I promise that you and I will have lots of fun together this summer. We can go—”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere with you. I just want you to go away!” Riley demanded with such fierce insistence that Hannah felt her own eyes fill with tears.

  She knew that she shouldn’t take the little girl’s rejection personally. Despite her extensive vocabulary and adolescent attitude, Riley was only a child, reacting to her feelings of loss and abandonment. But Hannah understood those feelings well—maybe too well, with the news of her father’s recent marriage still fresh in her mind—and she hated that she couldn’t take away her pain.

  “What’s going on in here?” a familiar, masculine voice asked from the doorway.

  Riley flew across the room and into her father’s arms, sobbing as if the whole world had fallen down around her.

  The prince lifted her easily. “What’s with the tears?”

  “I want Brigitte to come back.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his throat, crying softly.

  He frowned at Hannah over her daughter’s head, as if the new nanny was somehow responsible for the child’s tears.

  “She’s feeling abandoned,” she told him.

  His brows lifted. “Is she?”

  She couldn’t help but bristle at the obvious amusement in his tone. Maybe she didn’t know his daughter very well yet, but she understood at least some of what the little girl was feeling, and she wasn’t going to let him disregard the depth of those feelings.

  “Yes, she is,” she insisted. “She was upset when she woke up and the only person who was anywhere around was me—a virtual stranger.”

  The prince rubbed his daughter’s back in an easy way that suggested he’d done so countless times before. “She’ll get used to being here and to being with you,” he insisted.

  Hannah wished she could believe it was true, but she sensed that the princess would resist at every turn. “Maybe, eventually,” she allowed. “But in the meantime, you’re the only constant in her life and you weren’t around.”

  “I was only downstairs,” he pointed out.

  “Behind closed doors.”

  “If I didn’t have other things to deal with, Miss Castillo, I wouldn’t have hired you to help take care of Riley for the summer.” Now that the little girl had quieted, he set her back on her feet.

  Hannah wanted to ask if his business was more important than his daughter, but she knew that it wasn’t a fair question. She had to remember that the prince wasn’t her own father, and she couldn’t assume that his preoccupation with other matters meant he didn’t care about the princess.

  “You’re right,” she agreed, watching as Riley went over to her desk to retrieve a portfolio case. “I’m sorry. I just wish this wasn’t so difficult for her.”

  “I get the impression she’s making it difficult for you, too.”

  She hadn’t expected he would see that, much less acknowledge it, and she conceded that she may have been a little too quick to judgment. “I teach Beowulf to football players—I don’t mind a challenge,” she said lightly. “Although right now, the challenge seems to be finding a spare set of sheets for Riley’s bed.”

  “I’ll send Caridad up to take care of it,” he told her.

  “I don’t mind,” she said, thinking that it would at least be something useful for her to do. “I just need you to point me in the direction of the linen closet.”

  Before he could respond, Riley interjected, “I need flowers for my art project.”

  “Why don’t you go outside with Hannah to get some from the gardens?” the prince suggested. “I’m sure she would love to see the flowers.”

  “Can’t you come with me, Daddy?” she asked imploringly.

  “I’m sorry, honey, but I have a big project to finish up before dinner.”

  With a sigh, Riley finally glanced over at Hannah, acknowledging her for the first time since the prince had come into the room.

  “I need freesias,” she said. “Do you know what they are?”

  Hannah smiled. “As a matter of fact, freesias happen to be some of my favorite flowers.”

  Michael was going to his office to pick up a file when the phone on the desk rang. He’d just tucked Riley into bed and didn’t want her to wake up, so he answered quickly, without first bothering to check the display. The moment he heard his mother’s voice, he realized his mistake.

  “I have wonderful news for you, Michael.”

  “What news is that?” he asked warily, having learned long ago that her idea of wonderful didn’t always jibe with his own.

  “Your daughter has been accepted for admission at Charlemagne Académie.”

  “I didn’t even know she’d applied,” he said dryly.

  Elena huffed out an impatient breath. “I pulled a lot of strings to make this happen, Michael. A little appreciation would not be unwarranted.”

  “I didn’t ask you to pull any strings,” he pointed out. “In fact, I’m certain I never mentioned Charlemagne at all.”

  “Your sister went there—it’s a wonderful educational institution.”

  “Even so, I’m not sending Riley to boarding school.”

  “Of course you are,” Elena insisted. “And while they don’t usually accept children as young as five—”

  “Riley’s not yet four,” he interrupted.

  His mother paused, as if taken aback by this revelation, but she recovered quickly. “Well, if they could take a five-year-old, they can take a four-year-old.”

  “They’re not taking her at all,” he said firmly.

  “Be reasonable, Michael. This is the perfect solution to your child-care dilemma.”

  “There’s no dilemma, no reason for you to worry.”

  “I thought your nanny was leaving.”

  “Brigitte did leave, and I hired someone new for the summer.”

  “And what will you do at the end of the summer?” she challenged.

  “I’m not worrying about that right now.”

  “The fall term starts in September.”

  “I’m not sending my four-year-old daughter away to boarding school in Switzerland.”

  “The child will benefit from the structure and discipline.”

  “The child has a name,” he pointed out.

  “A wholly inappropriate one for a princess,” his mother sniffed.

  “You’ve made your opinion on that perfectly clear,” he assured her. “But it doesn’t change the fact that Riley is her name.”

  “Getting back to my point—Riley will benefit from the structure and discipline at Charlemagne, and you will no longer be burdened—”

  “Don’t.” Though softly spoken, the single word silenced her as effectively as a shout. “Don’t you dare even suggest t
hat my daughter is a burden.”

  “I didn’t mean that the chi—that Riley was a burden,” she hastened to explain. “But that the responsibilities of caring for a young daughter must seem overwhelming at times.”

  He couldn’t deny that was true any more than he could expect his mother to understand that Riley was also the greatest joy in his life, so he only said, “I’ll let you know if I change my mind about Charlemagne.”

  “I really do believe it would be best for Riley and for you,” she said.

  “I appreciate your concern,” he lied.

  Elena sighed. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  Michael began to respond, but she’d already disconnected the call.

  He dropped the receiver back in the cradle and went around his desk. Only then did he notice the figure curled up in the oversized wing chair facing the fireplace.

  “I beg your pardon, Your Highness.” Hannah immediately rose to her feet. “I should have made my presence known, but I didn’t have a chance to say anything before the phone rang. Then I wanted to leave and to give you some privacy for your call, but you were blocking the door.”

  He waved off her apology. “It’s okay.”

  “I really didn’t intend to eavesdrop,” she assured him. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re not planning to send Riley to boarding school.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t believe she would expect me to even consider such a thing.”

  “She?” Hannah prompted curiously.

  “My mother.”

  Her eyes widened. “That was your mother on the phone?”

  He could only imagine how his half of the conversation had sounded to her, and shrugged. “We don’t have a traditional parent-child relationship,” he said.

  Truthfully, there was more apathy than affection between them, especially since his wife had died. Elena had never respected boundaries and had never trusted her children to make their own decisions, and he had yet to forgive her for interfering in his marriage and convincing Sam that it was her wifely duty to provide him with an heir—a decision that had ultimately cost her life.

  “Riley’s grandmother wanted to send her to Switzerland?” Hannah pressed, apparently unable to get past that point.

  “She even pulled strings to ensure she would be accommodated,” he said.

  “But she’s just a child.”

  “My mother isn’t an advocate of hands-on parenting,” Michael told her.

  Hannah seemed to think about this for a minute, then asked, “Did you go to boarding school?”

  He nodded. “My brother and sister and I all did, but not until high school. Before that, we attended Wyldewood Collegiate.”

  “It would be easy to send her away,” she said. “To let someone else assume the day-to-day responsibilities of her care.”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” he denied. “It would be the hardest thing in the world.”

  Hannah’s conversation with the prince gave her some unexpected insight into his character and a lot to think about, but she was mostly preoccupied with trying to figure out his daughter. She tried to be patient and understanding, but as one day turned into two and then three, it seemed that nothing she said or did could change the princess’s attitude toward her. And if there was one thing Hannah was certain of, it was that the princess’s attitude very definitely needed changing.

  On Saturday, after Riley had finished her lessons for the day, Hannah decided to take the little girl down to the beach. She’d made a trip into town the day before to get buckets and shovels and various other sand toys, and she was excited to watch Riley play. She should have guessed that the child would be less than enthusiastic about her plans.

  “I don’t like sand,” the princess informed her. “And I get hot in the sun.”

  “That’s why we wear our bathing suits—so we can cool off in the ocean after we play in the sand.”

  Riley folded her arms over her chest. “You can’t make me go.”

  “Go where?” the prince asked, stepping out of his office in time to catch the tail end of their conversation.

  “Hannah’s trying to make me go to the beach.” She made it sound as if her nanny was proposing a new kind of water torture.

  “That sounds like a lot of fun.”

  The little girl wrinkled her nose, clearly unconvinced. “Will you come with us?”

  He hesitated, and Hannah knew he was going to refuse, so she spoke quickly, responding before he did in the hope that it might lessen the sting of his refusal for Riley.

  “I’m sure your daddy would love to come if he didn’t have important business that needed his attention right now.”

  “But it’s Saturday,” Riley said, looking up at him pleadingly.

  “Well, in that case,” he said, “I could probably play hooky for a couple of hours.”

  His daughter’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Sure, just give me a few minutes to change.”

  While the prince disappeared to don more appropriate beach attire, Hannah made sure that the princess was covered in sunscreen. Although the little girl obviously didn’t like having the cream rubbed on her skin, she didn’t protest. Apparently she was willing to put up with the process—and even Hannah—so long as she got to go to the beach with her daddy.

  Hannah glanced up when she heard his footsteps, and exhaled a quiet sigh of purely female admiration. Over the past week, she’d come to appreciate how good the prince looked in his customary Armani trousers and Turnbull & Asser shirts, but the more formal attire had given her no indication of how muscular and toned he was beneath the clothes. Now he was wearing only board shorts slung low on his hips with a striped beach towel draped across very strong, broad shoulders, and just looking at him made Hannah’s knees go weak.

  She’d admired him from afar for so many years. As a teen, she’d snipped every photo of him out of newspapers and magazines and created her own personal scrapbook. Back then, she’d never expected that their paths would ever cross again. And now he was only a few feet away from her—almost close enough to touch. In fact, if she took only two steps forward, she could lay her hands on his smooth, tanned chest to feel the warmth of his skin and the beating of his heart beneath her palms. She could—

  “Are we ready?” he asked.

  “I’m ready, Daddy!”

  It was the excitement in the little girl’s response that snapped Hannah out of her fantasy and back to the present. She reached down for the bucket of toys, conscious of the warm flush in her cheeks. She should have outgrown her adolescent crush on the prince long ago, but as embarrassing as it was to accept that some of those feelings remained, it was somehow worse to realize that the man she was ogling was her boss. Obviously she had to work on maintaining appropriate boundaries.

  “Let’s go,” she said brightly.

  She’d barely taken a dozen steps out the door when she heard a familiar chime. Startled, she turned back to see the prince reaching into the pocket of his shorts.

  “You weren’t really planning to take your BlackBerry down to the beach, were you?” she asked incredulously.

  “I’ve been waiting to hear back from a new client,” he said without apology. And without another word, he turned away and connected the call.

  Riley watched him, her big brown eyes filled with disappointment.

  Hannah shook her head, acknowledging that while the prince might have a fabulous body and a face worthy of magazine covers, his priorities were completely screwed up.

  Then she remembered the telephone conversation she’d overheard and the prince’s adamant refusal to send his daughter away to school. Obviously he loved his little girl and wanted to keep her close—so why did he keep himself so distant from her? And why was she so determined to uncover the reason for this contradictory behavior?

  Pushing the question from her mind, at least for now, she continued toward the water and the expensive private beach that had been calling to Hannah si
nce her arrival at Cielo del Norte. “Do you want to know one of my favorite things about the beach?” she asked the princess.

  The little girl shrugged but trudged along beside her.

  “When the waves break against the shore, you can give them your troubles and they’ll take them back out to the sea.”

  “No, they won’t,” the princess protested.

  But instead of her usual confrontational tone, this time the denial was spoken softly, and the quiet resignation in her voice nearly broke Hannah’s heart.

  “Well, not really,” she agreed. “But I’ll show you what I mean.”

  She found a long stick and with it, she wrote in the sand, right at the water’s edge: M-A-R-K-I-N-G-T-E-S-T-S.

  “I’m a teacher,” she explained. “And I love teaching, but I don’t like marking tests.”

  The little girl looked neither interested nor impressed, but she did watch and within a few moments, the movement of the water over the sand had completely erased the letters.

  Hannah offered the stick to Riley, to give her a turn. The princess seemed to consider for a moment, then shook her head.

  So Hannah wrote again: T-O-F-U. She smiled when the letters washed away.

  “What’s tofu?” Riley asked.

  “Bean curd,” Hannah said. “It comes from China and is used in a lot of vegetarian dishes.”

  Thinking of China made her think of Ian, so she wrote his name in the sand.

  “Who’s Ian?”

  “Someone I thought was a friend, but who turned out not to be. He’s in China now.”

  “Eating tofu?”

  She chuckled at Riley’s question. “I don’t know—maybe he is.”

  The little princess reached for the stick. She paused with the point of it above the sand, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. Finally she began to make letters, carefully focusing on the formation of each one until she spelled out: R-A-M.

  “You don’t like sheep?”

  Riley smiled, just a little. “It’s ‘Riley Advertising Media.’”

  “Your dad’s company?”