by Penny Jordan
It was odd how kids got to you. Take her own two… She had vowed she didn’t want any, and yet from the moment they were born they had turned her life upside-down and she had let them.
‘Good news, I think,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’ve found you a nanny. I got in touch with this friend of mine and she knows the ideal chap. Loads of experience. Adores kids and is especially good with young children. He can start straight away. In fact, the sooner the better. It seems that his previous boss started to get the wrong idea about their relationship, and propositioned him…’ She gave a rich chuckle. ‘It’s good to know that sexual harrassment can work both ways, isn’t it?’
Kate sat down, holding Michael on her knee. ‘Camilla, I’m not sure about this… Perhaps when Michael’s a bit older…’
The truth was that she didn’t want to share her home with a man; she found the mere thought slightly intimidating, and yet, after all, what was there to be afraid of? She would be the one in control, she would be the boss…he would simply be her employee.
‘Not sexual stereotyping, are we?’ Camilla tutted archly, grinning at her. ‘Men can take care of babies just as well as women, you know. Besides, I thought that we’d already agreed that a man would be best for you, less of a hassle for you to deal with.’
‘Well, yes,’ Kate admitted, remembering how much trouble her friend was going to on her behalf. ‘But he’ll have to live in.’
There was a small, surprised silence, and then Camilla said briskly, ‘Well, you’ve got a spare room, haven’t you?’ adding firmly, ‘Good heavens, Kate! From what I’ve heard, this man is more likely to be terrified that you’re going to rape him, rather than the other way around…if that is what’s worrying you.’
‘No, of course it isn’t,’ Kate told her testily. ‘It’s just… Well, I’m not used to sharing my home with a man.’
‘No, you’re not, are you?’ Camilla agreed drily, and then reminded her, ‘One day Michael’s going to be a man, Kate, and quite honestly, for his sake…’
‘Yes…yes, all right,’ she agreed, giving in. ‘How old is he, by the way?’
She was acutely conscious of how close she had come to making a fool of herself…of inviting Camilla to ask questions for which she had no answers.
‘I’m not sure. Sue described him as mature. She says she can vouch for his references, by the way. In fact, she wanted to know all there was to know about you…which isn’t a great deal. Apparently this isn’t the first time she’s had complaints from the men on her books about the—er—extra-curricular duties demanded by their female employers. It seems that there’s more than meets the eye to employing a male nanny,’ she added with a grin. ‘Anyway, I’ve managed to convince her that you’re not likely to demand your evil way with him, and so she’s sending him round for an interview. Some time this weekend, but I’m not sure when. I thought I’d come round and alert you. As well as making this young man’s acquaintance…’ She paused to tickle Michael, who grinned back at her. ‘Oh, and I explained to her that you couldn’t afford to provide him with transport, etc., but she said not to worry, he has his own car.’
‘Umm… It seems odd, though, don’t you think?’ Kate commented doubtfully. ‘A man caring for a small child?’
‘Not at all,’ Camilla contradicted robustly. ‘I know quite a few that do. Not professionally, perhaps, but I know a fair number of couples where it’s the wife who has the career and the husband who’s bringing up baby, and very well it works, too. Kate, do stop worrying,’ she instructed kindly. ‘If you don’t like the man when you interview him, then simply send him away and we’ll try and find someone else. All I can tell you is that Sue is very particular about who she has on her books, and according to her this man is one of her best. Mind you, you won’t be able to look upon him as a permanent fixture, I’m afraid. She did also say that he’s studying some kind of advanced computer course. Apparently he’s worked abroad for some years and was made redundant. Now he’s trying to re-train himself for the job market and earn himself a living at the same time. Hence the nannying. Look, I must go. I’ve got to collect the girls from their dancing class at one, and then we’re taking them out for lunch. Oh, how about dinner some time next week?’
‘I’ll give you a ring if I may. After all, unless I get a nanny, I won’t be going anywhere, never mind out to dinner,’ Kate told her drily.
By the time Camilla left, Michael was grizzling for his lunch. Kate took him downstairs with her while she opened the fridge and removed the puréed soup she had already made.
Michael, sitting in his high chair, banged demandingly on the table with his spoon while she heated the soup. Already in four short weeks she had become dangerously attached to him; already she could see how he was changing, growing, and her heart ached for Jen and Alan. They had wanted Michael so much. Loved him so much.
After lunch Michael had a sleep while Kate got changed and did her hair. She had shopping to do, mainly food, but she liked to buy things that were as fresh as possible.
The rain had stopped, but the pavements were wet, and the air damply cold. Pulling on her trench coat, she checked that the safety harness was secure, and then manoeuvred the pushchair down the steps.
In the high street several men looked at her, admiring the slenderness of her ankles and the elegance of her high cheek-boned face. Her dark hair gleamed in the light from the shop windows, her immaculate make-up making several other women wonder how on earth she found the time to look so good, when she had a small child to take care of.
Despite the fact that her clothes were probably not much more expensive than those worn by her fellow shoppers, Kate stood out from the crowd. She shopped with the same brisk efficiency she brought to everything she did, quite prepared to haggle when she considered that what she was being offered was not value for money. She had learned in her early days in London to make her money stretch a long way. Not for her expensive and un-nutritious ready-made meals. She preferred to shop economically and make her own soups and stews, to search out the best bargains in fresh fruit and vegetables; frugal habits which she had maintained even though they were no longer strictly necessary.
It was almost five o’clock before she had finished her shopping. The streets were dark and damp. She paused outside a toy shop already decked out for Christmas. This would be Michael’s first Christmas. She remembered Christmases at the children’s home: busy, noisy affairs with presents bought and donated by various charities; church in the morning; then lunch and then a party at teatime.
Everyone had done their best, but Kate knew she hadn’t been the only child there with a cold miserable place in its heart, mourning the Christmases that had once been.
Jen had once told her that she was lucky, because she at least had once had parents. She reached into the pram and touched Michael’s face. He smiled back at her, and for a moment tears stung her eyes.
A woman of twenty-eight crying in the street—ridiculous. She straightened up firmly, but at the back of her mind lurked the knowledge that she mustn’t fail Jen; she mustn’t prove unworthy of the trust Jen had placed in her.
She had bought one of Michael’s favourite treats for supper—bananas to which she added just the smallest spoonful of natural yoghurt. It was never too early to start teaching a child good eating habits, although she suspected that there would come a time when, like all children, Michael would insist on living for weeks on something like baked beans or fish fingers. Tea over, it was bathtime, a ritual which they both enjoyed, although it was only at weekends that Kate was able to share it with him.
One grim-faced nanny had complained to Kate that she didn’t like little boys who made so much mess, and Kate, who wanted to encourage Michael to have as much enjoyment in life’s simple pleasures as possible, had not been sorry to see her go.
This last one had been different; young and warm-hearted, she had seemed almost ideal. However, as she explained to Kate, her boyfriend did not like her having to work so ma
ny evenings, and so she had found another job which paid more and carried far less responsibility.
She was just preparing Michael’s bath when the doorbell rang. Frowning over the unexpected interruption, Kate picked him off the bedroom floor and carried him downstairs with her.
Shielding him from the cold, she opened the front door. The man standing there was unfamiliar to her, and with the light behind him it was hard to pick out individual features. She saw that he was dressed in casual clothes; the streetlight shone faintly on the softness of a metallic grey leather blouson, and she also saw that he was very tall…tall and broad, with a silent, unmoving stance that was rather intimidating.
‘Kate Oakley?’ he asked her in a cool, firmly modulated, accentless voice, the words clipped and economical, as though he was a man who disliked waste, of either time or energy.
‘Er—yes.’ Kate stepped back into the hall automatically, and the man followed her inside, even though she had not invited him to do so.
‘Let me introduce myself,’ he began, and Kate’s slight frown lifted as she realised who he must be.
‘Oh, you’re from the agency,’ she interrupted. ‘They did warn me that you would call round some time this weekend. Please come in… I’m just about to give Michael his bath. Would you like to come upstairs? We can talk up there. I don’t like to disturb his routine too much.’
Without waiting for his response, Kate headed for the stairs.
Something about the man disturbed her. One look at those flint-hard grey eyes had sent her stomach churning with nervous tension, and she felt very much as though she were the one being interviewed, and not him.
He was older than she had imagined, too. Somewhere in his mid-thirties. Not at all the kind of man she imagined would want to spend his time taking care of a small child. But then, Camilla had warned her that he was simply working as a nanny while retraining for a new career.
She reached the top of the stairs and turned to look back at him. He was half-way up, and from her vantage point she could look down on the thick darkness of his head. His hair was well groomed and clean, his nails on the hand that held on to the banister well kept and shaped, but not the nails of a man who regularly visited a manicurist. His clothes were good and very expensive, she observed, noting the softness of his leather blouson and the way the dark trousers clung to his thighs. Italian and very probably cashmere. He must have bought them while he was working abroad and earning good money, she decided.
‘The agency tells me that you’re very experienced with small children,’ she commented as she waited for him to join her. ‘I must say I’m surprised.’
Three steps behind her on the stairs Garrick tensed briefly, glad that she couldn’t see his face. What on earth was the woman talking about? And what did she mean—the agency?
Garrick wasn’t used to being caught at a disadvantage, and within the space of ten minutes this woman had done so twice, even if she herself was not aware of it.
The first time had been when she opened the door and he had realised that the girl he had mistaken for the nanny was in fact Kate herself. All right, so now she had her hair caught up in an elegant knot, and he could see now that he was face to face with her the air of cool authority she wore. But he could also see how trustingly the child looked at her, and how competently she held him in her arms, as though she was both used and happy with his small weight there.
That knowledge disturbed him, alerting him to a range of possible problems he hadn’t anticipated. What he had expected was that after a brief discussion he would offer Kate Oakley a generous sum of money to part with the child, which she would be only too relieved to accept, like the sensible businesswoman he had discovered she was. However, he was already beginning to suspect he had been too sanguine.
And what was this agency she was talking about? No one in the last ten years had ever mistaken Garrick for anything other than what he was: a singularly powerful and sometimes dangerous businessman.
‘I know that the agency have vouched in full for your abilities, but I expect you’ll appreciate that I’ll have to ask you a few questions of my own. Did they explain to you that you’ll be in full charge of Michael during the day? I work long hours, I’m afraid, and I don’t get home until well into the evening some days, which means that you’ll be on duty until I do return. Weekends you will be able to have off in full. I don’t have a car, but the agency told me that you had your own transport. I’ll show you your room in a moment. All right, Michael, I know you want your bath… I’m sorry about this,’ she apologised to Garrick over her shoulder as she hurried into the nursery. ‘But Michael loves his bath, and he’s apt to get a bit impatient if the fun’s delayed.’
She paused just inside the room, and said thoughtfully, ‘Look, why don’t I let you bathe him? As you will be in full charge of Michael, I’m sure you’ll realise that it’s important for me to feel that you can establish a rapport with him. I must confess when my friend suggested a male nanny, I was rather doubtful. She pointed out to me that Michael would benefit from the male influence in his life, but I feel he’s rather young as yet for me to worry about male/ female roles.’
Garrick, who had followed her into the room, stared at her back as she bent to put Michael down. Had he gone mad, or did this woman really believe that he had come here to be interviewed as a nanny for the child?
As Kate straightened up and gave him a coolly appraising smile, he realised that he hadn’t, and that Kate did seriously believe that was why he was here.
He opened his mouth to correct her misapprehension, and then closed it again. Several times during his life he had been called upon to make split-second and impulsive decisions, and never once had his intuition failed him. This time it was telling him to go along with her self-deception. He was rapidly coming to the belief that there was no way Kate Oakley was going to calmly hand over the child. He could see just by watching her with him how fiercely protective of him she was. That in no way altered his own determination to have sole responsibility for Michael, but what it did alter was the method he would now need to adopt to get legal control of Michael.
David Wilder had warned him that the only way the courts would ever take Michael away from Kate Oakley would be if she could be proved to be an unfit guardian. And what better way to be able to prove that than to live here in the same house with them and to observe at firsthand how she responded to her responsibilities?
One set of facts could be presented in so many different ways, to give a hundred different impressions, Garrick knew that. He wondered what the courts would think of a woman who employed an unknown man to take care of a nine-month-old child without even making any attempt to check his credentials.
When Kate looked at him, he was smiling at her. It was an odd, chilling sort of smile, and for a moment she was tempted to snatch up Michael and tell him to leave.
Control yourself, she commanded inwardly. Just because the man is so much more…male than you anticipated, that’s no reason to get in such a state. But, as she watched Garrick remove his jacket and deftly roll up the sleeves of the shirt he was wearing, she couldn’t help wishing that she had never listened to Camilla’s suggestion that she hire a male nanny to take care of little Michael.
Bathe him, she had said, and Garrick thanked his lucky stars that his mother’s preoccupation with infants had ensured that he had observed the bathtime routine often enough as a child and teenager to have retained some knowledge of what ought to be done.
Let’s face it, Garrick told himself, Kate Oakley probably didn’t have much more idea of how to take care of a small child than he did himself.
A dedicated career woman was how his data described her, and from the information he had been given he had formed the impression that she would be much harder, much, much more abrasive than she was turning out to be. Already he had discerned that there were certain anomalies about her…certain vulnerabilities that she tried desperately hard to conceal.
H
e took hold of Michael and started to undress him.
Kate watched impassively, but secretly just a little pleased, while Michael kicked and wriggled. The man didn’t seem to be too familiar with the poppers on Michael’s clothes, but his hands were gentle when he touched and held the little boy, she had to admit that, and she had to turn away from the sight of those male hands struggling with the small clothes. It brought back memories she wanted to suppress…memories of a time when she herself had been a much-loved part of a close family unit. A time before her world had been turned upside-down and her parents had left her…deserted her without any explanation, without any warning.
She noticed the faint grimace the man gave as he removed Michael’s wet nappy, and suspected that she was probably right in thinking that he had never taken care of such a very young child before.
All her earlier doubts came sweeping back, and she stepped forward protectively, ready to snatch Michael away from him.
‘I’m not sure that this is a good idea,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Michael is very young…’
She gave him a firmly dismissive smile and reached for her godson, but the man refused to let him go.
‘Yes. He is small for his age, isn’t he?’ he agreed, deliberately misunderstanding her. ‘Premature, was he?’
Garrick knew quite well that Michael had been premature, but he saw from Kate’s face that his remark had startled her.
‘Yes. Yes, he was a little,’ she agreed reluctantly.