by Rachel Cross
Why do I feel like I’ve seen this guy before? Is he an actor?
His longish hair was a rich mahogany, and he had the kind of face talent scouts dream about, chiseled perfection marred by a slightly angular, prominent nose and strong chin. By far, his most striking feature was his eyes. Hazel or brown didn’t do them justice. They were golden, almost yellow in the center, edged by a dark brown ring and framed by the thickest eyelashes Maddy had ever seen.
“Please, sit,” golden-eyes said.
Maddy settled into the aisle seat across the way from him.
The flight attendant picked up a phone and mumbled something into the mouthpiece about takeoff, then buckled herself into the jump seat.
Maddy snuck a look at the man again. The child had curled up against him and was starting to nod off. She was asleep before they reached cruising altitude.
After declining the flight attendant’s offer for refreshment, Maddy pulled her e-reader from her bag and settled in to read in the awkward silence.
“Thank you, Madeline,” he said.
“It’s Maddy.”
“Thanks, Maddy.”
“No problem.”
“As you can see, I’m a little out of my depth here.” His smile was disarming as he reached out to shake her hand. “Asher Lowe.”
She reached across the aisle, and he stared at her misshapen, too thin hand with its red, swollen joints.
The corners of his mouth pulled down as he took it carefully in his.
She freed her hand, and her polite smile faltered as his name registered.
Asher Lowe?
The front man for Spade? Rock god, notorious philanderer, and son of Sterling Lowe, one of the richest men in America? She searched her celebrity memory banks — they were rusty from disuse. She didn’t even recognize the reality starlets who graced the covers these days, but once upon a time, she’d read entertainment magazines cover to cover. Wasn’t his mom some Hollywood icon renowned for her unusual eyes? No wonder he looked familiar.
Good Lord. Was she still staring at him? He lips had quirked into an insincere half-smile. She glanced back toward coach. “Listen, everything seems to be under control here, so I can just mosey on back to my seat — ”
“No.” He put a hand out to stop her, his tone panicked, his body radiating tension.
The little girl sighed in her sleep and shifted against him.
“Please stay,” he whispered. “Please.”
“Is she nervous about flying?” Maddy asked in a low tone.
His lips twisted and he examined Maddy through narrowed eyes “Probably. It’s not just that,” he glanced around, “she’s … Ella’s … coming to live with me. Her mother was killed three days ago in a car accident.”
Maddy gasped.
“We’re … uh … trying to figure this out.”
“God. I’m so sorry. How awful. Is her dad — ?”
“Not around. And, as you can probably see, I don’t know much about kids.”
Maddy glanced at his lap where the hand not holding the child was closed into a fist, his smile belied by the tortured expression in his eyes.
“Momma?” Ella murmured in her sleep.
An expression of naked pain flashed across his face and he put his arm more securely around her.
The little girl resettled against him with a sigh.
Maddy swallowed past the lump in her throat. “If there’s anything I can do … ”
“Thanks.”
She fingered her e-reader nervously.
“So, Maddy, do you live in Los Angeles?”
He wanted to make small talk?
“Yeah. I’m finishing a master’s degree in education.”
He nodded. “It’s obvious you know your way around kids.”
She shrugged. “My mom runs an in-home day-care and preschool. I helped out a lot growing up. How old is she?”
“Five. Kindergarten.”
Maddy bit her lip, raising her eyes to meet his gaze. “Kids are amazingly resilient.” She backtracked. “What I mean is … I … uh … can’t imagine how she’ll cope with the death of her mother but, in general, they are adaptable. Especially at her age. It’s one of the things I love about working with them.”
Maddy lowered her eyes, but she could still feel his gaze, assessing her.
He grunted. “You from LA?”
“No, a little town in Virginia, about an hour from DC.”
“I thought I heard the trace of a southern accent.”
She laughed, softly. “And here I thought I’d beaten it back.”
“So why Los Angeles?”
She met his eyes. Kind of a personal question, but he had certainly shared a doozy with her. Then again, maybe it was common knowledge? People like the Lowes were fodder for the news magazines. “Lots of reasons. I wanted a change from the East Coast … the winters can be tough.”
His gaze dropped to her lap, then moved back to her face. “I couldn’t help noticing … ”
“It’s rheumatoid arthritis,” she said, steeling herself for the ‘helpful’ suggestions that usually followed that revelation. Starting with “aren’t you a little — ”
He cocked his head. “Arthritis? Aren’t you a little young?”
With an inward sigh she launched into her twenty second spiel. “Not osteoarthritis. Rheumatoid. Different thing altogether. RA is an autoimmune disorder. You can have it show up at as a child or adult.” If she had a dollar for every time she explained this to someone, she wouldn’t have any outstanding student loans.
“And yours?”
“I was diagnosed as a teenager.”
“Tough,” he said, his expression sympathetic.
She shrugged. “I don’t let it hold me back.”
“Looks painful.”
She didn’t respond, rubbing her fingers self-consciously. Desperate to change the subject, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Were you close with your sister?” She regretted the question as soon as it was out of her mouth. The expression of grief that crossed his face made her wince. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “No, it’s okay. Yeah, we were close. She’s my only sister — we had the same dad, different mothers, but it wasn’t … we were close.” The flight attendant saved Maddy from sticking her foot in her mouth again by starting the snack service, and Ella awoke. She stared at the cold sandwich with disinterest.
“Ella, please eat,” he urged.
“But I don’t like it.”
Maddy reached into the a la carte menu in the seat pocket in front of her. She flipped it open and pointed to an item. She noticed he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her hands. When he finally raised his eyes to scrutinize her, she had schooled her features into neutrality. She was used to people staring.
He looked at Maddy in askance and made a face at the items she indicated. “Applesauce and goldfish?”
Ella lit up. “Oh yes, Uncle Asher. I’m hungry.”
He mouthed “thank you” to Maddy and pushed the bell for the flight attendant.
• • •
For the remainder of the flight, Asher sat back as Ella and Maddy discussed kindergarten, fairies, and favorite movies across him. It was like listening to a foreign language. Ella was animated for the first time since they had broken the news to her, and she’d gone an hour without sobbing. Maddy had a real knack for drawing her out. Progress.
The woman was attractive — pretty, really. Her thick, brown hair framed an oval face with high cheekbones. Her complexion was skin care commercial beautiful, and her eyes — not quite blue, closer to the gray of the Pacific Ocean on a foggy day — were serious under delicately winged brows. She was thin, too thin to h
is mind and he was accustomed to thin women, living in Los Angeles. Was her weight related to her disease?
She was good with Ella.
He glanced at her ring finger. Bare. Not that a ring-less finger meant anything. He’d have someone check into her background. His assistant was vetting some of the best nannies in the business, but this Madeline Anderson had made Ella smile for the first time in days, had plenty of experience working with kids, and seemed unfazed by the Lowe name. It wouldn’t hurt to have her investigated, just in case.
Chapter 4
Maddy popped a bagel in the toaster and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Leisurely breakfasts were a rarity these days. Her course load was light in her final semester with no student teaching, but there was always overtime at the coffee shop, and morning shifts there were insane. Maybe she’d bring a book and blanket and enjoy a lazy Sunday at the park a few blocks away.
Her cell phone rang and she glanced at the screen. A local Los Angeles exchange but not a number she recognized. Her eyes narrowed. Please don’t let it be work. She couldn’t say no to extra shifts, but it was shaping up to be a beautiful day outside. Maybe she should let it go to voicemail? No, she really could use the money. Sighing, she took the call.
“Hello?”
“Maddy?” said a deep voice on the other end of the phone.
A chill went up her spine. It had been two weeks, but she knew that voice. She ought to by now. She’d had a continuous loop of Spade in rotation on her iPod since her encounter with Asher Lowe on the plane.
“Mr. Lowe?”
“Yeah. Call me Asher.”
“How are you guys? I’ve been wondering how Ella’s adjusting.” How does a five-year old cope with losing her only parent and getting him for a guardian? He’d seemed ill-equipped on the plane.
He cleared his throat. “Not good.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Listen, will you come to my house?” he asked. “I can have a car bring you.”
Maddy frowned. “Uh … why?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Ella.”
“Oh, I guess. I … I have a car. If you give me your address I can — ”
“The car’s ready when you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“The car’s waiting.” She peered out the window of her apartment. Sure enough, there was a black town car at the curb. She frowned. How the hell did he know where she lived? She remembered him looking at the tag on her luggage. He must have a good memory. Still, he sent a car before she agreed to meet with him? Cocky. Or desperate. Probably both. “Oh, okay … but — ”
“See you in a bit.” He disconnected the call.
• • •
Maddy looked out the window as the driver pulled into a gated driveway in a very exclusive part of Santa Monica. Once buzzed in, the gates opened, allowing the sleek car to make its way up the drive. Her eyes widened.
Now that was a big house. At the top of the driveway loomed an enormous, white stucco, red-tiled, Tuscan style building. Red and pink bougainvillea wound their way nearly two stories up on trellises lining the front walls on either side of massive front doors. She’d never had occasion to be in this part of Los Angeles. Probably because she’d never done one of those star tours of celebrity homes in the open-air mini-buses like the one their car had just passed. It was filled with tourists and their cameras, leaning out the windows, eager for a glimpse of a celebrity. Even a celebrity’s dog would do.
The car came to a smooth halt at the apex of the circular driveway.
“Thank you,” she said to the driver when he put the car in park. He nodded over his shoulder.
“No problem, Miss.” Exiting the vehicle, he came around to open her door.
Maddy climbed the front steps and rang the bell. The door was opened by a tall, lean, dark-haired man with brown eyes and a warm smile. He was casually dressed in jeans and the kind of classic t-shirt that was either vintage or top-dollar designer.
“Hi.” She reached to shake his hand. “I’m Maddy. Asher called me.”
“Hey, Maddy, we’ve been expecting you. C’mon in.”
She stepped over the threshold and he closed the door behind her.
“I’m Justin Montoya, Asher’s personal assistant.”
Maddy glanced around. This place was a freakin’ palace but tastefully decorated. Nothing Cribs like to mock here, though it was easily the largest house she’d ever been in — not counting the White House tour she’d taken in college.
“Why don’t you come with me?”
She followed him down the long hallway to the rear of the house, and they entered a study with views of a pool in the middle of a flowering garden. Maddy wandered over to the French doors that led to a patio.
“Asher will be in shortly. Can I get you anything?”
Maddy clasped her hands together. “No, thanks. Um … how’s Ella?”
Justin shook his head. “Not good, Maddy. We don’t know what we’re doing,” he said, spreading out his hands. “We’re all out of our element here, and poor Ella is having a rough time.”
The door opened and Asher strode in. Her lungs seized up. Dressed casually in a form-fitting t-shirt and worn Levi’s that lovingly followed every hard line of his body, it was impossible not to notice his masculinity or his fatigue. Dark circles bruised the underside of his golden eyes.
“Thanks, Justin,” Asher said.
“Need anything?” the assistant asked on his way out.
Asher turned to Maddy, brows raised.
She shook her head.
“We’re good, thanks,” Asher said.
Justin left the room, quietly shutting the study door.
Asher gave Maddy another one of those smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. “Have a seat, please.” He gestured toward the sofa.
She sat on the edge of the sectional and studied him. By the looks of him, he wasn’t getting much sleep. Was that part and parcel for a rock star, or were things with Ella that difficult? In the weeks since she’d met him on the plane, she was ashamed to admit she’d read everything there was to know about him and Spade. And none of it made her hopeful about his chances of successfully parenting a five-year-old girl — not the way he lived with touring, partying, and player-ing.
“I need help with Ella.”
Of course he did. If he hadn’t hung up on her so abruptly, she could’ve saved them both time and inconvenience. “Oh. Well, I’d be happy to help out occasionally with some babysitting — ”
“No, I need a full-time nanny.”
“I’m sorry. I could’ve saved you the time and car and driver. I’m in school — ”
“I know. But you also work full time in a coffee house right?”
Her brows knitted together. “Uh … yeah.” How did he even know that? “We can accommodate your class schedule.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You can finish your degree. This is your last semester, right?”
She must have mentioned it on the plane, but the thing was, she didn’t remember telling him that.
“I’m not a nanny.”
“I know. But you have the relevant experience. And I’ll pay you more than you make serving up cappuccinos.”
“It’s not that simple.” She worked as a barista because the chain extended health benefits to their employees. Nannies didn’t get benefits. She couldn’t afford to be without coverage and it would be expensive to buy her own health insurance. Even if they would accept her, which was doubtful, the coverage would be abysmal. When something happened with her rheumatoid arthritis, she’d suffocate in debt trying to cover medical bills. The school loans were bad enough.
“Sure it is.” He raked a hand through artfully mussed hair. He probably paid a fortune to have it look lik
e that, she thought uncharitably.
“Have you tried to find someone?” There was no doubt someone with his affluence could get the best nanny in Los Angeles.
He prowled the room. “Yeah, but I haven’t found a good fit.”
She frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I’ve been trying for almost two weeks. I’ve had the best people on this. We’ve interviewed two dozen women and one highly recommended manny, and it just doesn’t work.” His control slipped a bit on the last word as his voice rose. “She’s seeing a therapist and I’ve been in constant contact with the woman so I know what to expect but … ”
“But?”
“I can’t handle it!” he half-shouted, pacing in front of her. “She still doesn’t get it!” His mouth twisted. “She cries. Weeps. Says her stomach hurts. Doesn’t want to go to school. She’s afraid of the dark and comes in my room at all hours.” He ran hands through his hair again. It no longer appeared so artful. “She wants to sleep in my bed — when she’s willing to sleep at all.”
Maddy’s heart lurched.
His voice shook when he said, “She wants to know if her mommy will come back if she’s good. Jesus.”
Her eyes burned and she blinked rapidly. That poor kid. Asher was stirring up no small measure of sympathy too.
He threw himself down onto the couch next to her, and Maddy surveyed his red-rimmed eyes. “Asher, I think … I mean … isn’t that the normal response to what she’s going through?”
“Yeah. Or so the therapist says.”
“It’s going to take time for her to understand.”
He groaned.
“You need to stay calm, loving, and patient. I’m sure you’re doing fine.”
Asher raised his brows. “Maddy, I’m a lot of things, but patient doesn’t make the list.” He leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling.
She’d worked a lot with kids that age, since her emphasis was in elementary education and she’d grown up with hoards of preschoolers, but this was far outside her experience. She’d lost her father, but that was different; she’d never even had a chance to know him.