Undercover with the Nanny

by Cathy Skendrovich

  “I think he forgot, Kate.”

  Kate blinked out of the daydream she’d been spinning to find Bobby standing in front of her, chest heaving and practice uniform looking like he’d already played nine innings. In the mud. With curled lips she hoped resembled a smile, she reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair.

  “Maybe. Let’s give him a few more minutes.” However, her temper rose the longer they sat waiting for Sawyer’s very fine ass.

  Was he just like Bobby’s workaholic dad after all? Once he got to work, did he lose track of time, forgetting his responsibilities, his commitments? Was that promise he made to the eight-year-old about helping him improve his game simply lip service?

  She should have known better than to believe the coach would keep his word. She was experienced with those kinds of men, namely Mr. Cabrera. Why should she expect a stranger to keep his word to a lonely little boy, if his own dad didn’t? When would she learn that trusting people only led to broken promises and broken hearts?

  Before she could build up a full head of steam, the deep throb of a big engine vibrated toward them, and she and Bobby looked in the direction of the sound. Hayes’s truck rolled around the corner, accelerating as it bounced into the parking lot’s driveway and headed straight for them. She couldn’t see the driver’s face through the reflection on the windshield, but she knew who it was. By the way the butterflies took flight in her stomach, her body recognized the driver, as well. Damn him. Damn her.

  Bobby ran to the parked truck. “Coach, Coach, you made it. Kate and I thought you forgot.” He stepped back as Hayes opened his door and slid out of the vehicle. Sawyer said something to the boy, but Kate couldn’t hear him from the picnic bench. She refused to get up and greet him like a fawning pup. Bobby could get away with that behavior, but she was more sophisticated. Her time was too valuable to be left waiting for him to swagger in, fifteen minutes after the agreed upon time.

  She watched as he shut the driver’s door and followed Bobby, that easy, loose-hipped saunter sending the butterflies in her stomach into flight, and her pulse rat-a-tatting like a soapbox derby entry in the downhill stretch. He pulled off his sunglasses and looked at her, and she was glad she wore hers. She was afraid the relief flowing through her that he’d kept his word would be readable in her expression. He shouldn’t be able to do that to her.

  “Sorry I’m late.” He stopped before her, near enough she had to tilt her head back, so close she could see the golden stubble on his chin and cheeks, the smile he was trying to hide.

  “At least you’re here,” she huffed, and his lips curved upward at her gruff tone. He turned his head and told Bobby to get on the field. The boy didn’t waste any time, running toward the batter’s box on a whoop and a holler. Sawyer returned his attention to her. She’d used his momentary inattention to stand up, wiping her palms on her shorts and taking a step away from his heat, his nearness. His lowered voice stopped her.

  “I meant what I said last night, Kate. I didn’t mean to manhandle you. I’m sorry.”

  Here was her moment; the perfect time to tell him she didn’t want a man in her life, especially one who couldn’t control his sudden urges. She’d nudge them back into their original roles: that of next-door neighbors and nanny and coach. She swallowed and opened her mouth with confidence.

  “You didn’t manhandle me. I wanted you to kiss me.” What the hell? It was as if someone else had taken control of her mouth. Like he had last night…

  His eyes widened, and desire flared in them, and her body swayed toward the warmth he radiated. No, no, no. She was supposed to be aloof, cool as the winter surf. Instead, she’d reacted as if she’d drank a truth serum. Next, she’d be throwing her arms around his waist!

  He gave a real smile then, just a slow, small one, yet she felt warm all over. Warm, and tingly, as if he’d touched her. Kissed her. Surprisingly, she found herself smiling back. As much as she wanted to steer clear of men until she was financially stable, she had to accept that she couldn’t with this man.

  And really, would it be so awful if she did date him? What could happen? She might fall in love, or she might find out he was another toad. Nothing that hadn’t happened before, with men less physically and intellectually attractive than him. With his broad shoulders, emerald eyes, and Texas twang, Sawyer Hayes was too potent for the flimsy barriers she raised. She couldn’t even muster a frown, not when he grinned like he was doing now.

  “C’mon, you guys. Are we batting or catching?”

  Sawyer jolted at the intrusion of Bobby’s voice, and it was Kate’s turn to smile.

  “I’d like to say neither, but I guess I wouldn’t get paid, then,” he said, his head swinging around to her.

  “Very true.” She nodded and backed up more, inhaling once he turned toward Bobby.

  “Batting, kiddo. Let me get my bag. Kate’s going to field for us.”

  “What?” she squawked, but he was already striding toward the bed of his truck. His chuckle floated back to her. Wrinkling her nose at his retreating form, she resigned herself to the task when she heard Bobby’s joyful hoot. No way would she let the boy down.

  The next hour passed like an episode of The Three Stooges, with Sawyer pitching, Bobby hitting or missing, and Kate letting the ball fall through her glove more times than she could count. She didn’t think she’d ever laughed as much as she did today. Even Sawyer’s ribbing about her catching abilities didn’t irk her. Maybe that was because, through it all, she could hear his calm, Southern accent encouraging the little boy to wait for the ball, hold his elbow up, and follow through with his swing.

  By the time Sawyer called the practice, Bobby had mastered the proper stance and was connecting with the ball in the form of fouls. Even though he continued to say he “sucked” at the sport, Kate and Sawyer saw definite improvement and told him so.

  They returned to their cars as the afternoon sky clouded over and a mild breeze stirred the surrounding shade trees. Bobby helped Sawyer put the gear in the back of the truck. Kate admired how the man allowed the child to work with him, even though he got in the way more than he helped. It was too bad Bobby’s father didn’t have the patience Sawyer exhibited.

  Bobby’s father didn’t work around the house, period, so he never interacted with his son except to tell him to “study harder,” and “get good grades.” He hugged and kissed his son good night when he was home, but that was the extent of his affection.

  “Kate, can Coach Hayes have pizza with us?”

  She froze mid-thought while scraping mud off the bottoms of her sneakers on the curb. She stared at Bobby. He was standing on tiptoe, a sure sign that he was excited. In the process of closing the tailgate, Sawyer paused. When she didn’t answer, he swung around while Bobby began the age-old begging routine, “Please, please, pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

  It wasn’t her house. She couldn’t just invite a man over, even if he was her boss’s son’s coach, even if she really, really liked the idea. It just wasn’t her place, although Mr. Cabrera was going to be out late tonight. That’s why she’d promised to make pizza with Bobby if he got his homework done. She opened her mouth to say as much, while at the same time Sawyer began, “I don’t know, bud. Maybe your dad has other plans.” He cocked a brow at Kate while her gaze shot from him to Bobby.

  “We can ask him when we get there. He said this morning he’d wait for me to get home from practice before leaving.”

  Once more, she met Sawyer’s laser-focused gaze. What was she stalling for? She knew she wanted him to stay for dinner. And now her boss would be there, able to tell them yay or nay.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she offered.

  “Yay. Follow us, Coach,” Bobby sang as he ran to the passenger side of Kate’s car. Sawyer stepped over to her before she could duck into her seat. Those shivers started up again just from his proximity.

  “Are you good with this? ’Cause I can make up an excuse—”

  “Let’s let Mr. Cab
rera decide.”

  He held her gaze for long seconds. His eyes were as green as a pine forest. Finally, he stepped back with a nod. “Fair enough. See you there.” She bit back a sigh as she watched him leave. Yeah, he was definitely her type. Breaking the spell Sawyer’s presence had over her, she got into the Sentra while Bobby insisted she hurry up or the coach would beat them.

  They arrived at the house a few moments later. After reminding the boy to carry his backpack inside, Kate met Sawyer at the front door, which Bobby had left open. They heard him calling to his dad through the house.

  “After you.” Sawyer motioned with one hand for her to precede him.

  “That’s what I like about you, Hayes. Always the gentleman. Must be that Southern upbringing you’ve bragged about.” She threw him a sideways look as she passed in front of him.

  “Oh, I can be downright ungentlemanly when the moment calls for it.”

  She stumbled from the sexy vision his words conjured, and he lightly laughed behind her. Determined not to let him get the last word, or sound, she said, “Hang out here while I go find Mr. Cabrera.”

  Without waiting for another of his loaded replies, she ran up the staircase where Bobby had disappeared.

  She’d just peeked into all the upstairs rooms and found them empty, when she heard Mr. Cabrera’s voice downstairs asking loudly, “Can I help you?” He didn’t sound pleased. She took the stairs two at a time, following the echo of his voice. He stood in the doorway of his office. As she peered around him, confusion rose within. Sawyer Hayes was beside Mr. Cabrera’s desk.

  Why the hell was he in there?

  Chapter Nine

  Sawyer froze at the sound of Cabrera’s voice behind him. The pilot must wear soft-soled shoes, because Sawyer had been listening for any interruptions. He glanced at the contemporary painting on the wall before him and thanked God he’d already planted the telephone bug, as well as the room one.

  He was taking too long to answer. Casting one more look at the artwork, he swung around with what he hoped was an innocent expression. His eyes widened when he spied Kate standing slightly behind her boss. It seemed the more he stood here, the bigger the audience he drew. He wouldn’t be surprised if the University of Texas’s Longhorn band came marching through next.

  Cabrera frowned, while Kate looked like she’d bitten into a Godiva chocolate and it tasted like rotten egg. Of course. She’d invited him into her boss’s home, and he’d been found in a compromising position. He needed to do some fancy footwork to allay their suspicions. Directing his attention to the pilot, he gave an embarrassed shrug.

  “Sorry about coming in here, Mr. Cabrera. I was on the way to what I thought was the bathroom when I passed this doorway and saw the painting. I couldn’t resist getting a closer look. I don’t recognize the artist.”

  Both Cabrera’s and Kate’s gazes switched to the painting in question, and he quarter-turned to study it, as well. He hated the chaos of modern art, and this one looked like a Crayola crayon factory had exploded on the canvas. It reminded him of what drugs did to people’s lives. Give him a brooding landscape any day. However, to make his cover story believable, it sure looked like he was a fan of the genre now. Widening his smile, he forced an enthusiasm he didn’t feel. It helped that Cabrera’s face had brightened like a kid seeing Santa Claus.

  The man moved to the other side of the frame. Sawyer ignored Kate’s presence, for the moment. What mattered right now was dispelling any lingering doubts Cabrera might hold about him. He wasn’t buying Cabrera’s immediate enthusiasm. Drug runners, even if they were simply the pilots, lived long lives because of their suspicious natures. Sawyer was pretty damn sure Cabrera would be researching him later.

  “It’s by a relatively unknown artist. I found it in a small gallery in Austin, Texas, that caters to the not-so-famous. You can get a lot of good pieces for less money that way.”

  Like he needed to worry about cost in the employ of a cartel, cheap bastard. However, when in Rome…

  “You’ll have to tell me more.” Sawyer cocked a hip, foreseeing a long and boring conversation that ultimately would remove any suspicions about his presence here that Cabrera might harbor. Well worth the mind-numbing discussion of brush strokes the pilot launched into.

  Rescue came in the form of an impatient little boy, tugging on his father’s elbow.

  “Da-ad, come outside and see what Coach Hayes taught me today. I’m hitting the ball now. Coach says with a little more practice I’ll have them going out in the field, and then everybody’d better watch out. C’mon.”

  Cabrera wanted to stay longer and show off his knowledge of the art world, but his son was insistent. Sawyer should buy the boy an ice cream for his timely entrance.

  With a muttered “Excuse me,” and another glance around the room, Cabrera started after Bobby. He paused beside Kate and whispered, though not so low Sawyer couldn’t hear him, “Please lock the door after you leave.” Right before he exited, he shot Sawyer another look, this one narrowed and calculating. Apparently, he wasn’t believing the artwork story completely. Luckily, the DEA’s bugs passed most normal surveillance sweeps, and his own backstory would stand up against any investigation Cabrera started.

  “You like that?” Kate’s question cut through Sawyer’s contemplation once they were alone. He leaned his butt against Cabrera’s desk and pretended to study the painting. Hell, he’d seen toddlers do better in a scribbling tantrum. Nevertheless, he nodded. This sort of interrogation he could handle in his sleep.

  “Yeah, I really do. Don’t you?”

  “No. It looks like someone vomited a box of popsicles all over it.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, and he fought the urge to laugh. She was so right it killed him to maintain a surprised expression.

  “You don’t know fine art. Look at the colors, especially the oranges and reds. They’re so…vibrant. They exude warmth, excitement. Passion.” He lowered his voice on the last word, captured her gaze and held it; prayed that his come-on derailed her suspicions. If his boss wanted the investigation ramped up, here was his chance. He wished his heart rate didn’t speed up at the thought.

  “If you say so. Listen, this room is off limits. It’s Mr. Cabrera’s office. Even if the doors are open, you don’t go inside. Got it?” She raised one brow for emphasis.

  “Got it. I’ll try to ignore the beauty on this canvas when I walk by from now on. After you.” He held her gaze with all the innocence he could muster, while trying not to notice the way her hair curled around her face, softening that hard-ass expression she tried to maintain.

  She moved to the door, waiting for him to pass before closing it like her boss ordered. Sawyer did so, but not before his arm brushed against her breasts. He heard the hiss of her indrawn breath, felt a tingle sizzle up his arm, and elsewhere. He muttered a “Pardon me,” before asking where the bathroom was and heading in the direction her finger jabbed. Once there, he glared at his reflection in the mirror, willing his mind, as well as his body, to remember Kate was a suspect. He seemed to forget that fact whenever he was around her.

  Afterward, he followed the sound of voices to the front entrance, where Cabrera was preparing to leave and Bobby wasn’t happy, whining his disapproval.

  “But I wanted all of us to be here tonight. You’re always gone, Dad.”

  Sawyer stepped back, swallowing the distaste this scene brought to him. He’d been in Bobby’s place too much growing up. His dad had always had “just one more case” to work on, and Sawyer learned to quit asking. And then it was too late.

  “I have to earn the money for your lessons, hijo.”

  Sawyer had heard that line, too. And he’d looked like Bobby did now, like his superhero had just been arrested. Why did parents think their kids were stupid? Sawyer had known when he was being brushed off for something better, and Bobby did, too. But he had a job to do, so he forced aside his sympathy for the kid and concentrated on reverse psychology.

  “Hey, I got
ta run—”

  “No, no, Coach Hayes. Please, stay for the pizza Miss Munroe and Bobby are making. I insist. I’ll even have her show you some of my other artwork down here, to sweeten the deal, eh?” Cabrera smiled into Sawyer’s face, as if he’d dangled a particularly juicy carrot in front of him. The pilot was hoping to assuage Bobby’s disappointment by allowing Sawyer to stay in his place. Yup, reverse psychology always worked.

  Sawyer played the part he’d been handed. “If you’re sure, Mr. Cabrera. That would be awesome.” He looked at Bobby, whose expression had brightened marginally. Yeah, kid, I’m no replacement for your dad, but I’m all you’ve got.

  “Great. I’ll be home late, Miss Munroe. You’re welcome to stay over, if you’d rather not drive back at that hour.”

  Sawyer looked between boss and employee. Was that code for “I want you naked in my bed when I return”? The disappointment that clogged his throat reminded him of his unhealthy interest in the nanny. It would be better if she was Cabrera’s piece of ass. The case would be over quicker, and Sawyer could return to Texas, away from the temptation that was Kate Munroe.

  He heard Kate’s noncommittal answer, and watched Cabrera kneel and hug his son. The boy snuggled against his dad, and Sawyer contemplated again what type of father he would be if he had the chance. He never wanted to inflict his occupation on a family, but seeing the hug gave him a yearning feeling for someone who would miss him when he left for work.

  He glanced at Kate and was surprised to find her watching him watch the father and son. Her eyes darted away immediately, but the moment gave him pause. He was being scrutinized by both suspects. It was time to give himself space and get his team on Cabrera’s tail.

  While the father stood, extricating himself from Bobby’s clinging grasp, Sawyer pulled out his phone as though it had vibrated. Stepping away from the doorway, he speed-dialed Ian, who picked up on the first ring. As the front door shut, Sawyer hurriedly said the code-speak that would set his men to following the pilot. Once he hung up and put the phone away, he turned around and found himself alone.