The Nanny Who Kissed Her Boss

by McMahon, Barbara

  Opening the door she stopped suddenly when she saw Declan lying on the bed. His legs were crossed at the ankles, one arm under his head, as he stared at her coming from his bathroom. Heat flooded, her heart raced. So he’d looked many times before when they’d spent a weekend somewhere. Swallowing hard, she tried to breathe.

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed,” he said, rising. He crossed slowly over to her as his gaze traveled down the length of the terry robe. Her heart flipped over, pounded harder than ever.

  “Jacey and I wanted showers before dinner. You weren’t here. I hope I didn’t hold you up,” she said. She also hoped he wasn’t getting any ideas about her appropriating his bathroom. Obviously she’d misjudged how long he’d be at the store.

  He stopped inches away. She wore only the robe, closed with a sash that with one flick of a wrist could be undone. Trying not to think of how little she had on beneath the robe—like, nothing but bare skin—she edged sideways toward the door. He stepped closer and for a split second she thought he was going to reach for her. The surge of longing to feel his arms around her one more time caught her by surprise. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, her own almost tingling in yearning to feel those lips against her again, drawing a response from her that she’d once so freely given.

  Then the echo of the words he’d said that had ended everything sounded in her mind.

  She was fantasizing about him ripping off the robe and taking her into his arms, kissing her for real, a full-blown lip lock that would blow her mind, when he’d so cavalierly thrown her over for Margo. Now Margo was gone. Did he think he could step back in where they’d left off?

  She took another step, watching him warily. What could she say to make sure he knew she was so over him it wasn’t funny? That she’d taken this job only for Jacey’s sake.

  Declan stepped closer. She could feel the warmth from his body. Her eyes locked with his as her imagination ran wild.

  “Declan,” she started, but that husky voice didn’t sound like the crisp professional tone she was striving for. She cleared her throat, took two more steps to the door and opened it.

  “How did it go with Jacey today?” he asked.

  She turned and looked at him over her shoulder.

  “Actually, better than I expected. She actually thawed a bit by the time we reached the second store. I had her trying on any dress she wanted as long as it wasn’t black. She even let me buy her a blue one. If she wears it tonight, be complimentary, but don’t make a big deal over it.”

  “Any luck with the makeup?”

  “Young girls need to experiment. I’d say you have a typical teen. Once in the wilderness, no makeup for a few days and a compliment or two thrown her way, and I bet she doesn’t go back to it. I suggested we could go to one of the major department stores and have a makeover. But her response was tepid at best. Maybe when she gets back to New York you can take her to one of the stores there.”

  “The resort has a day spa connected. She could go there.” He checked his watch. “I have reservations for seven at a place in North Beach.”

  “I thought maybe you and Jacey should go alone. More time for you to get better acquainted with what she’s been up to lately,” Savannah said. Even more than before she wanted some distance from Declan. Using his bathroom had been another mistake. She needed to keep tabs and change her behavior or she risked serious heartbreak again.

  He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “I need you to buffer.”

  Savannah shivered and shrugged. “Okay. We’ll be ready.” Scooting away, she tried to ignore the aching longing that seemed to invade every cell. Why did she have such a hard time remembering he had been the one to end their relationship years ago? How could she let herself be snared by his attractiveness again? Once burned, she needed to guard her defenses.

  But for a moment, she could almost feel his mouth on hers.

  Jacey was standing in front of the full-length mirror studying herself when Savannah almost burst into their bedroom. She wore a slinky black dress with spaghetti straps and an uneven swirling hemline. Her midnight-black hair hung straight down her back. She had not yet put on the makeup and her sweet face looked pale and drawn against all the black. Savannah couldn’t help but wonder why Jacey couldn’t see that black was not her color.

  She spun around when Savannah entered. “I thought you and my dad would be longer,” she said. “I heard him come in a few minutes ago.”

  “I finished my shower, now it’s his turn,” Savannah responded, going to the closet to pull out a silvery dress. Black didn’t look good with her fair coloring so she rarely wore it. This color was a smoky silvery gray, and looked great with her eyes. To her, the best feature was how well the dress traveled. She glanced at Jacey and considered telling her to put a shirt on, but Jacey wasn’t her child and she wasn’t going to get into a free-for-all over clothes. If her mother didn’t have better taste in clothes for a fourteen-year-old, Savannah hoped her father would.

  “I’ve got to get my hair done,” she said, heading for their en suite bath. “You finished in here for a bit?”

  “I need to do my makeup, but I can wait until you’re done,” Jacey called, turning back to the mirror.

  Savannah truly hoped the child hated what she saw. Once she had on her macabre makeup, she’d look like the wicked witch from the Wizard of Oz.

  Savannah had to get her own hair and makeup under control. Shouldn’t she get hazardous-duty pay for even contemplating trying to change a teenager? She saw Jacey’s clutter on the bathroom counter. The black eyeliner and mascara and the bright rosy blush. Tempting though it was to hide everything, Savannah resisted. She had to get the girl to want to change, not force it on her.

  Once dressed, Savannah went into the lounge to give Jacey the bedroom and bath to herself. She walked to the window to enjoy the slight view of Union Square. One of the renowned cable cars was passing. She hoped they got to ride one from one end to another. How could Jacey be blasé about that?

  Declan stepped into the lounge. Savannah turned and her eyes widened slightly. He looked amazing. The dark suit contrasted with the snowy shirt and maroon tie. He looked like the very successful businessman he was. His gaze went to her immediately. For a second Savannah could imagine that the two of them were going to dinner and she’d dressed her best to please him.

  “You look lovely,” he said.

  No employer had to say that! “Thank you, I could say the same. Be warned, Morticia will be joining us for dinner.”

  He grimaced. “Didn’t wear the blue dress?”

  “Nope.”

  He ran his hand across the back of his neck. “I don’t understand what Margo’s thinking, letting her dress that way.”

  “She thinks she looks sophisticated. Does your ex-wife wear a lot of black?

  “I don’t know what she does these days. She didn’t, back when we were married.”

  “Well, I think this is a stage,” Savannah said.

  The bedroom door opened and Jacey walked out. Her eyes were heavily lined in black, her hair had been teased a bit and looked more like a black football helmet than anything else. The high heels she wore made Savannah wonder how she didn’t teeter over and fall on her face. She turne
d back to look at Declan and almost laughed aloud at his dismayed expression.

  “So, now we’re all ready,” she said brightly, hoping to catch his eye.

  He looked at her. “Not—”

  “—a minute too soon, I know.”

  Fortunately Declan caught on fast. “Right. Then, if we’re all ready, I have reservations at a good restaurant in Little Italy. Everyone likes Italian, right?”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Savannah said. She glanced at Jacey and felt a moment of sympathy for the girl. Did she even know what she wanted?

  * * *

  Declan bowed to Savannah’s hints, but his initial reaction had been to send Jacey back to her room to wash her face. How could Margo let their precious little girl end up like this? The dress was totally inappropriate for someone so young. And a bit over the top for the restaurant they were going to. Some wild night club would be more suitable for the dress—not his daughter.

  Savannah looked lovely. Why couldn’t Jacey want to look like her?

  * * *

  The cab took them swiftly through the San Francisco traffic and they arrived at the restaurant just before seven. Once seated, Jacey looked around with a frown. Declan watched her. One of the things he and Margo had enjoyed was dining out. Of course, back then, they hadn’t had a lot of money. With what he sent each month, she could still enjoy a dinner out from time to time. Did she never take their daughter? Jacey seemed to be bemused by all she saw.

  “Do they have pizza?” Jacey asked.

  “I’m sure they do,” Savannah said. “Did you know the flatbread food we call pizza only had tomato sauce after the Spanish conquistadors brought tomatoes to Europe?”

  “What is this? A history lesson?” Jacey asked.

  Savannah laughed. “Sorry, my sister and I are always trying to find out obscure facts to dazzle the other one with. Sometimes that spills over.”

  “I didn’t know it,” Declan said. “In fact, I didn’t know tomatoes were indigenous to America.”

  “South America, actually, though the Spaniards spread them all around. Since we’ve grown up eating tomatoes, I, for one, never questioned where they originated before I went to college.” She folded her menu and smiled at him. “But in a fine restaurant like this one, I want more than pizza. I’ll have the linguine Alfredo.”

  “I’m having the veal,” he said.

  He glanced at Jacey “Pizza’s fine if that’s what you want.”

  She closed her menu and looked around. The uncertainty and vulnerable look tugged at his heart.

  “Tomorrow we’ll go to the store and pick out some clothes for our hike,” he said once the order had been taken.

  “I still don’t see why I have to go,” Jacey said. “Why don’t you leave me and Savannah here and go on without us? Camping’s not fun.”

  “You used to enjoy camping,” he said.

  “Well, I enjoyed a lot of different things when I was a kid. I’d like to stay in San Francisco, if we’re not going back to New York right away.”

  “So tell me about camping. Where did you two used to go?” Savannah said.

  “The Adirondacks, Poconos, nothing like western mountains. Remember, Jacey, we’d take off after school on Fridays, get a good spot. Then we’d hike, swim if it was warm enough to. Or we’d follow a trail looking for wildlife. Evenings we’d have a campfire and roast marshmallows.” Declan spoke about several of their trips.

  Savannah watched as the happy memories spilled from him. When she’d glance at Jacey she didn’t see fond memories. Why couldn’t she unbend long enough to agree with her father about the fun they used to have?

  “One more day here in the city and then we leave,” Declan said. “I sure am looking forward to the Pacific Crest Trail.”

  “Me, too.” Savannah said. “I brought my hiking boots and some old clothes, but I don’t mind buying a few new things. I’d love to see your store here. I’ve been in the one in Manhattan. Do you have different things for sale in different stores?”

  “Depends on where the store is located. For instance, we have more surfboards for sale on the west coast than in our east-coast stores. We can ship in anything from our catalogue, but we don’t normally stock surfboards in Manhattan.”

  Jacey played with her silverware, looking totally bored.

  “Remember, Jacey, when you used to come to the store and play with all the balls we had?” Declan said in an effort to include her in the conversation.

  She shrugged. Looking at Savannah, she asked, “What do you get out of being a nanny?”

  “Actually, quite a lot of enjoyment and a chance to travel. I’m co-owner of the business with my sister, Stacey. We make enough to live the lifestyle we like, and we don’t need to depend on anyone else.”

  “Unlike your mother,” Declan murmured.

  Jacey turned and glared at him. “She works. They don’t pay well in New York.”

  “I make a comfortable living, Savannah makes a comfortable living. Your mother could if she wanted,” Declan said.

  “She has an image to uphold. That doesn’t come cheap,” Jacey defended.

  “An image?” Savannah asked. Was this a clue to getting closer to Jacey?

  “She works in a very exclusive boutique and has to look the part. Even with ten percent off the clothes she buys, they’re incredibly expensive.” Jacey looked at her father. “You can’t say our apartment’s glamorous. It’s barely in an acceptable area.”

  “I’m not discussing your mother’s life with you. If you have a problem with her, you talk to her.”

  “I don’t have a problem with her—it’s you. You have millions. You could be a little more generous to your only daughter!” Jacey almost shouted the last.

  Heads turned, eyes searched for the source, then were averted when Declan glared around the restaurant.

  Savannah almost reached out and touched the back of the fist he had clenched on the table. He took a breath and looked at her. He was furious.

  Savannah wanted to help. She turned to Jacey.

  “So your mother’s a buyer in an exclusive boutique dress shop?”

  “She’s a sales clerk. But if they’d give her the chance, she’d be a buyer. Until then she has to sell clothes to rich people like she’d be if Dad would send more money. He’s loaded.”

  Savannah nodded. She could hear the echo of Declan’s ex-wife in those words.

  Just then Jacey’s phone rang. She snatched it out of her purse, checked the number calling, then opened it eagerly. “Mom, where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling.”

  “Jacey, not at the table,” Declan said.

  She glared at him. “Hold on, Dad doesn’t want me talking to you.”

  “That’s not what I said,” he said with restraint. “Take it in the lobby so you aren’t disturbing the other customers.”

  “Like I care about them,” she mumbled as she rose and quickly headed for the lobby.

  “So her mother doesn’t call as often as Jacey wants?” Savannah asked as the teen quickly walked away from their table.

  “Margo hasn’t talked to Jacey since she dropped her at the apartment. And since your interview, Jacey’s called her a dozen times with no re
sponse until now. Despite what Jacey says, Margo wanted this summer for her own ends.”

  “If she works at a high-end shop, shouldn’t she know better how to dress her daughter?”

  “I’m sure she does, but it’s easier to let Jacey do her own thing. Margo wasn’t much on discipline when we lived together. I expect nothing’s changed. I wish she’d stop filling Jacey’s head with the idea I owe them more money. I send child support, I’m not planning to support Margo in the lifestyle she’d like.”

  Savannah nodded. She did not want to get involved in the family dynamics. She wondered how things would have gone if he hadn’t tried a second marriage with Margo. Would they have found an easier way to relate, or would Jacey still be going through this stage? This trip was not going to be as easy as Declan thought.

  The waiter had begun to serve their plates when Jacey came back.

  “Mom was at the Hamptons this weekend. She left her phone at home,” she said, slipping into her chair. She looked at Savannah. “She said she didn’t know about you.”

  “Why would she? We live different lives,” Declan said easily.

  Savannah was glad to see he’d regained his composure. He’d been angry with his daughter but had let it go. She suspected there would be a lot of that in the days to come.

  “I think you and Mom should get back together,” she said, challenging her father with her look.

  Savannah glanced at Declan.

  “It’s never going to happen, Jace. Your mother and I tried that when she came back to New York with you. You know that. Eat up. I’ll satisfy your clothing requirements at the store tomorrow. You can buy anything you want.”

  Savannah wondered how much black hiking gear would be found.

  “I still don’t want to go. Don’t I count for anything?” she said sulkily.

  “You count for a lot. But the plans are made. I hope you’ll remember how much you liked camping when you were little. We’d see deer and beavers and other wildlife.”