Nanny to the Billionaire's Son

by Barbara McMahon

  Nothing would stand in the way of Sam’s future.

  So why wasn’t she happier about the idea?

  Charlene knocked on the door. Sam let go Mac’s hand and went to answer it.

  “Am I interrupting?” she asked.

  “Not at all. Mac invited us to dinner on Friday. He told me they are going back home tomorrow and wanted to thank us for having them here.”

  Charlene looked beyond her sister and smiled at Mac. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Take Sam, though. She doesn’t get out much.”

  Gee, thanks, sis. I need to have the man I’m crazy about think I’m some kind of stay-at-home loser! But Sam didn’t voice the comment aloud. “We can go someplace you’re comfortable with, Mac said.”

  “No, actually I came to ask if Tommy could stay here Friday night. Alice said you asked her to watch him and she and I wanted to get started on a new project I have in mind. We’d take good care of him and not begin work until he was in bed.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “You could pick him up Saturday morning—maybe come for a pancake breakfast or something,” she said, glancing between Sam and Mac.

  “Unless you have other plans for Saturday,” Sam said, turning halfway around to look at Mac. “You don’t have to come by. I could drop Tommy off.”

  “I’d like a big pancake breakfast,” he said, puzzled at Sam’s comment. “I’ll spell Mrs. Horton by getting home early, letting her come over here and then I’ll bring Tommy when I come to pick up Sam.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Alice just left. I still can’t believe all Monica said.”

  “She’s coming again tomorrow, right?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, with some preliminary contracts. I’ll have to hire an attorney to review them and guard my interests.”

  Sam smiled at her sister. Charlene might have led a quiet life these past ten years, but she was smart and would do well in the business end, she predicted.

  Mac stood. “I hope it works out extremely well for you.”

  “I need to do some things before bed,” Sam said, using the interruption as an excuse to leave. The McAlhenys were leaving the next day. She’d not leave Mac in the lurch with child care, but if Charlene made as much from the sales as she said at dinner, Sam could soon resume the normal pattern of her life that had been disrupted by Hurricane George.

  As she went up to her bedroom, she wondered how long it would take to forget about Mac and Tommy. A very long time—if ever.

  The house seemed empty the next evening after Mac and Tommy had left. They’d eaten dinner one more time with the Duncan sisters and then headed for home.

  “That Tommy is cute as can be,” Charlene said as she sat watching Sam finish the dishes. Mac had offered to help, but she’d sent him off. She was glad for something to do.

  “He is,” she agreed, smiling as she remembered Tommy telling them something at dinner. He was so serious when explaining things. She just wished she understood him better.

  “And his dad’s not bad, either,” Charlene said slyly.

  Sam ignored that and refused to look at her sister. She was trying for a rise out of her and Sam wasn’t going to snap at the bait.

  “You don’t have to work that second job anymore,” Charlene said. “I’m so glad after all this time I can do something for you. In fact, if you want, with what Monica thinks I’ll bring in this first year, you could quit your job at the Beale Foundation and go to school full-time. You’d have your degree in one more semester if you attend full-time.”

  Sam turned at that. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  Charlene shrugged. “Trying to let you get on with your life—you put it on hold all these years for me and now it’s time for you to live it the way you want.”

  “I’ve been happy these years, Charlene.”

  “But I know you want to work out west. Take the opportunity now.”

  “You need to bank that windfall in case Monica’s estimates are a bit inflated,” Sam said practically.

  “I plan to bank some, but not all. I want to feel I can contribute. Let me do this, Sam.”

  More than her feelings for Mac were spinning out of control. Sam nodded and wiped down the counters, finished with kitchen chores for the night. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

  Later, she commandeered the family computer to check out registration dates for the spring quarter. She had time, if she walked her papers through. Yet the excitement she’d expected to feel just wasn’t there. Acting on impulse, she searched for Mac on the computer, and found several articles about his business. And one on the death of his wife. Chris had been a pretty blonde—probably where Tommy got his hair color. Sam stared at the picture of Chris and Mac together for a long time. They looked so in love. Would she ever have a man look at her like that?

  She shut down the computer and went up to bed. Her future lay in a different direction than Mac McAlheny and his son and it was time she acted like it.

  Friday Sam was ready before Mac arrived. Alice had come straight from the McAlhenys’ home and shared a light dinner with Charlene. They were both still in the kitchen talking a mile a minute. Sam listened from the dining room, amused to find out how chatty Alice Horton was once she shed her gruff exterior. She and Charlene were fast becoming best friends. Who would have thought it?

  Sam checked her appearance once more in the downstairs mirror when she heard Mac’s car. The dress was warm enough for Atlanta’s freezing winter nights, but festive enough for any place he chose. Feeling excited as a teenager, she tried deep breaths to calm her nerves.

  He knocked and she threw open the door, smiling widely.

  The thing about Sam, Mac thought, was he knew where he was with her. Her smile warmed him. Her excitement was refreshing and welcome. The women who he’d seen since Chris died were too self-centered for his own tastes. Too polished and sophisticated. He’d liked being seen with them and they had relished spending time in the limelight, but there was more to life than strutting around to be seen. Sam was genuine and he liked being with her.

  He stepped inside, closed the door and wished he could draw her close for a kiss.

  “Hi, Sam,” Tommy said.

  Mac loved his son, but right now, he’d rather he’d run to find Mrs. Horton rather than stay to greet Sam.

  “I sleeped in my bed last night,” he announced.

  “I know you did. We missed you here, though.”

  “Want to come sleep over at my house?” Tommy asked.

  Mac wished he dared second the request.

  “Oh, I have my own bedroom right here in this house. Tonight you can sleep over again. Alice and Charlene are in the kitchen, making a special treat—cookies.”

  Mac scarcely had him out of his jacket before Tommy headed for the kitchen at a run.

  “Are you ready? I’ll tell Mrs. Horton we’re leaving,” he said, looking at her and feeling the warmth in his chest. Sam was pretty, but it was her personality that sparkled.

  “I’m ready.”

  He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers as he passed to go let Mrs. Horton know he was leaving Tommy in her care.

  He couldn’t wait until it was just he and Sam. She looked fantastic. He wanted her to have a good time tonight. The place he chose was close to the nightclub and once they ate, they’d go dancing. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms again; it had been too long. And when they were part of an anonymous crowd, it wouldn’t matter if he snuck in a kiss or two. No one would know but them.

  The ladies in the kitchen had already put Tommy to work adding chocolate chips to the cookie mix. He knew his son was in good hands. Hurrying back to the entryway, he saw Sam standing where he’d left her. Mac smiled as he reached her and swept back her hair from her face and leaned over to kiss her. Her lips were warm and welcoming. His were cool from the freezing outdoor temperature, but she warmed them in a heartbeat.

  He could have stood all night kissing Sam, but he wanted more from their evening.
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  “Ready?” he asked again.

  “I sure am,” she replied with a wide smile.

  The restaurant was crowded. It was Friday night and the spot was popular in Atlanta. The wait was short, however, due to their reservations and soon they were seated at a table for two. The background noise faded as he gazed at her while she studied the menu. She frowned in concentration then glanced up to see his gaze on her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You already know what you want?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  Her.

  The thought came unbidden and floored him for a moment. Then he let it settle in. He wanted her—in all the ways a man wanted a woman. Yes, he wanted to take her to bed. But he also wanted to wake up with her. Share meals together. Make plans for the future and do all the mundane chores around the house together.

  He was falling in love with Samantha Duncan!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MAC quickly dropped his gaze to the open menu. He knew what he wanted for dinner, but the thought that just crossed his mind had him needing a moment to himself.

  He had loved his wife. He mourned her passing every day. How could he be falling in love with someone else? And with someone so different? There were few similarities between Samantha Duncan and Chris. How could he even begin to find another love when Chris had only been dead three years?

  The intellectual side of his mind knew life went on. It also knew Chris would have wanted him to be happy. As he would have wished that for her all her life.

  But to think of starting life anew with another woman was unthinkable.

  Unless it was with Sam.

  He looked at her. Her dark hair fell on either side of her face, soft and glossy in the subdued light. He knew how silky it felt. His fingers itched to feel that soft texture again. Faint color highlighted her cheeks. When she looked up, her chocolate-brown eyes held a question. Mac felt like an idiot.

  “I think I’ll have the scampi,” she said, giving him a gentle smile. It kick-started his heart beating out of control.

  “Sounds good. I’m having the surf and turf.”

  “Such a guy thing,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him.

  He wanted to reach across the table and kiss her. Taking a deep breath, he deliberately leaned back in his chair and glanced around. Time enough later for that, he hoped.

  “Do you come here often?” she asked, closing her menu.

  “I’ve been here once or twice before. Always business meetings. I like the food.”

  “Do you have many business dinners?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Not often—if I can help it. But if we have out-of-town customers, wives are included and it makes it a better situation all around.”

  She nodded.

  After the waiter had taken their order for dinner, Sam leaned over a bit and said in a conspiratorial voice, “I don’t like business dinners.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I find it hard to make small talk with people I don’t know. When we have business lunches, it’s usually with prospective donors. But dinners have spouses who have no interest in the donation process. Though sometimes they are interested in the services the Beale Foundation provides.”

  “Our business dinners are to woo customers in placing megaorders with our company. Chris used to love them. I find them a necessary task, but would just as soon have pizza at home with Tommy.”

  She smiled brightly, but falsely.

  Way to go, idiot, he chided himself. Bring Chris up. Was he using her as a defense? Sam had done nothing to make him think she wanted anything beyond what they had—a casual friendship. Granted, she’d been receptive to his kisses, but she hadn’t followed up on any of them with suggestions like the women he’d dated over the past couple of years.

  In fact, when he thought about it—she had usually spoken of her great dream to move out west and work in a national park. Did that mean she wouldn’t be interested in seeing what might develop between them?

  It was too early. He still felt floored by the idea of falling in love again. Tonight was to thank her for her hospitality—and give her a respite from watching Tommy. He needed more time to think things through.

  There had to be more than physical attraction, though Sam held that for him in spades. But how much did he know about her?

  “Next weekend Tommy and I are going to see his grandparents in Savannah. Would you like to ride along?” Mac asked.

  Okay, that was changing the subject. “Your parents?” she asked in surprise.

  “Mine and Chris’s. What, did you think I didn’t have parents?”

  “I guess I didn’t really think about it. Ours died so long ago it seems strange to us to find people with parents and sometimes grandparents living.”

  “Both my parents are alive and well and so are Chris’s. I take Tommy to visit every few months—especially at this age. He’s prone to forget people if he doesn’t see them frequently.”

  “I better not,” she said slowly. She’d love to see where Mac grew up. To meet his parents. But she’d feel awkward—especially around Chris’s parents. Would they see her as a candidate for their daughter’s place in Tommy’s life? She dropped her gaze. She was sure Mac had no intentions along those lines. They were just—friends.

  “Come with us and I’ll give you a tour of Savannah while Tommy is with Jerry and Becca. Those are Chris’s parents and I let him stay there alone part of the weekend so they can spoil him all they want.”

  “Must be fun for him.”

  “He enjoys the visits. Come with us, Sam,” he urged.

  She longed to go. Would it hurt? “If Charlene is comfortable with me being gone.”

  “Your sister’s really taking off with this quilting thing, isn’t she?” he asked.

  “She’s in heaven! She loves every aspect. I can’t believe how much she’s blossomed in the past few days. The accident really changed her from the older sister I remember and now it’s as if she’s coming back.”

  “Tell me about her when you were young.”

  Sam smiled and readily complied. In the telling, she related how happy their family had been, how full of hope and promise. The tragedy of the automobile accident had changed everything—and none of it for the better. But she never complained. He never detected a note of self-pity. She met life head-on and adjusted as the path twisted and turned.

  “So now, if she gets some income, maybe it’ll be more than enough to support her along with the transcription income she earns.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” Mac knew it was, but wanted Sam’s take on it. He was fascinated by the way she thought.

  “Yes, for Charlene. It’ll mean she’s back in charge of her life and won’t feel dependent on her younger sister. And, once the repairs are completed and paid for, I can get back to my original plans.”

  “Ah, the great scheme of moving west.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I can’t wait!”

  Mac felt as if he’d been kicked. He didn’t want her to move west, or anywhere. Unless it was into his home.

  “There are national parks in the east as well,” he said easily.

  “Sure. But I’ve lived here all my life. The west is so different. Wide-open spaces, different wildlife, mountains. So much to see, to learn. It’s been my dream since I was fifteen.”

  “We have the Appalachians.”

  “Foothills compared to the Rockies or the Sierras. I want to see it all, be a part of it. Spread my wings and fly.”

  He nodded, hoping he gave nothing away. Her passion for her goal wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He couldn’t move his business or his home. He had a son to raise. He wanted him near his grandparents. Mac wanted Sam to be a part of his life, not try to find a way to fit into the future she looked for so hungrily. Was that selfish of him?

  When their food was served, Mac deliberately changed the subject, hoping to find common ground. They discussed
movies they liked. No common ground there. She liked chick flicks and he preferred action-adventure epics. When they discussed books, he wasn’t surprised to hear that she avidly read everything she could about the American west—history, geology, Native American cultures. His favorites were mysteries where he could try to figure out the ending before it was revealed.

  Food was one area they had in common, both liking seafood, Italian and rich desserts.

  They talked through dinner, through dessert and beyond. It was late when he realized the restaurant was practically empty and he and Sam had been talking for hours. It had only seemed like minutes.

  She glanced around at his look. “Gracious, are we almost the last? What time is it?”

  “Close to eleven.”

  “I’ve had such fun,” she said, smiling at him.

  Mac caught his breath at the feelings that cascaded through him at the sight of her smile. Her delight with the evening was clearly evident. He could go on forever.

  “Ready to leave? We can still go dancing.”

  “Maybe not. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to call it an evening. You could come in when we get home and have a nightcap or something.”

  Disappointed he wouldn’t get to hold her, dance with her as they had on New Year’s Eve, he nonetheless welcomed the invitation.

  But they were not alone when they entered the house. Charlene and Alice were together in the dining room, with papers spread all over and different quilts folded nearby.

  “We got Tommy to bed at eight. He went right to sleep,” Alice reported.

  “We’re hard at it now, so if you two won’t mind, we won’t join you. It’s late and we want to wrap up soon,” Charlene said.

  “No, we were just going to have something to drink,” Sam said, bemused by this side of her sister.

  She and Mac entered the kitchen.

  “What’ll it be?” she asked.

  “Hot chocolate. It’s too late for coffee if I want to sleep tonight.”

  “Want to stay over? Seems a shame to wake Tommy now. He’s fine here.”