My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked Series Book 3)

by Jennifer Peel

  Mr. Wickham paced and paced some more, talking more quietly. “Stella, I can’t just pick someone off the street.” He glanced at me and his nephew before abruptly stopping. His lips curled and his eyes brightened. “Let me call you back. I think I have an idea.” He hung up without another word and shoved his phone into his pocket. He walked back in, his lips pressed together, assessing me even more than he had previously.

  “Ms. Parker, do you like your job here?”

  “Um . . .” That was an unexpected and uncomfortable question given the morning I’d had.

  “Hesitation,” he said, pleased. He shut the office door and leaned against it.

  I couldn’t help but stare at him. The picture on his book cover didn’t do him justice. Which was ridiculous. Because my second thought was that this was inappropriate. Closed doors had become something of a taboo. You’d be surprised at some of the salacious stories that had circulated around the bank.

  I bit my lip. “Mr. Wickham—”

  He pushed off the door. “Please call me Miles.” He took his seat back, grinning between me and his nephew, who, by the tender look he gave him, he was obviously fond of. “You see, Aspen, I’m in a bit of a bind. I came here because of my sister’s last wishes and to work on my novel.”

  I wanted to say it was about time—I needed that book—but instead I attentively listened.

  “She loved Carrington Cove,” he said wistfully.

  “I grew up there. It’s a beautiful place.” My parents still lived there. Chloe and I lived in Edenvale because it was cheaper and closer to work.

  He clapped his hands together. “Splendid. I think a bit of kismet is at play here.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  He gave me a charming grin. “I’m in need of someone who can be both a nanny to my nephew and a personal assistant to me.”

  I laughed, startling Henry, who I quickly soothed back to sleep. “You’re kidding, right?” I looked around for a recording device. “Did my new boss put you up to this?”

  “I assure you, I’m not having a laugh at your expense. I’m in earnest, and somewhat desperate.”

  I blinked an inordinate amount of times. “No. No. I’m not a nanny.” And I certainly couldn’t be his personal assistant.

  He stared down at his sleeping nephew. “You seem to have a magic touch when it comes to wee ones.”

  I shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that, but I have a daughter.”

  “How old?” he asked.

  “Twelve.”

  His brows raised. I knew what he was thinking. You look too young to have a child that age. He was right, but I would never regret it even if it meant having the most worthless ex-husband in existence. Chloe was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  He cleared his throat. “Excellent,” he stammered as if he was unsure what to say to that. “You have plenty of experience then. Exactly what Henry and I need.”

  “Listen, Miles, you don’t know me. I have a degree in business management, not child development.”

  “I would do a background check on you, of course. And I need a savvy business mind.”

  “I don’t think I’m the right person. Maybe I could ask around for you.” I looked down at sweet Henry and my mother’s heart wanted nothing more than to see that he had the right person to take care of him.

  Miles slapped his hand on the desk. “Whatever you are making here, I’ll double it.”

  My head popped up. Our eyes locked.

  “What do you say now, Ms. Parker?”

  Oh. Wow. I leaned back, stunned. “Can I think about it?”

  Chapter Two

  Three sets of eyes stared at me on the bleachers, waiting for me to speak. My eyes were set on Chloe talking animatedly with her soccer team at the park after practice. They were enjoying the last warm evenings we would have as September wore on. She was at the center of the decision I had to make. My beautiful girl whose carefree spirit lighted my world and her heart of gold that reminded me I must have done something right despite all our challenges, financial and otherwise. I smiled, watching her twist her golden-brown ponytail like she always did. We shared the same hair and eye color, however her green eyes shone pure and trusting. Mine were marked with caution tape.

  Emma, one of my best friends from high school and Chloe’s soccer coach, interrupted my gaze. She placed her hand on my knee. “Did you get the promotion?” she asked.

  I turned my gaze from Chloe and faced the best friends a woman could ask for, Emma, Jenna, another long-time friend from high school, and Shelby, the Southern belle who had crashed our party a year ago. Funny we all thought we would hate her, but none of us could imagine our lives without the perky blonde now.

  I rested my hand over Emma’s clammy one. Poor thing was dying from morning sickness. I sighed. “They gave it to Stephen.”

  All their eyes widened while shaking their heads. Each disappointed for me and confused. Not only had I complained about Stephen’s incompetence for months, but they had each seen the slimy man.

  “We can bury that weasel easily,” Jenna said, always willing to dispose of a body.

  Shelby placed her hand across her ever-growing chest. Pregnancy had the opposite effect on her. She was even perkier, if that was possible, and her voluptuous chest was expanding, to her husband’s delight, I was sure. Those two couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I’d seen some pictures, but that was another story.

  “Well, I will march down to that bank tomorrow and inform them that my husband will be taking his business accounts elsewhere.” She sounded reminiscent of Scarlett O’Hara. Losing Prescott Technologies would be a significant loss to the bank, but it wouldn’t help my cause. In fact, it might cost me my job if they found out why.

  I smiled at my fearsome friends. “I appreciate your willingness to go to jail or disrupt your husband’s life on my behalf, but . . .” I bit my lip, “losing the promotion isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Each leaned back with narrowed eyes.

  Emma rubbed my bare knee. “Everything okay?”

  “Let’s just say I had an interesting proposition today.”

  “Did Cory the teller manager ask you out again? You should totally say yes.” Jenna grinned. “I know he laughs like a hyena, but he’s hot.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Cory’s given up and moved onto nicer, greener pastures.” They all did. I made sure of it. Best to push them away before any hurt or hopes occurred on either end.

  “You’re as sweet as can be,” Shelby patted me, “most of the time.” She giggled.

  “I’m not sure about that.” I wanted to be nicer.

  “Well, what is it?” Jenna was growing impatient.

  I let out a deep breath. “I’m going to tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out on me or tell me what I should do based on who it is. And along those lines, I don’t want to hear any ‘this is fate’ crap.”

  They were all thoroughly confused now and wore perplexed looks.

  “Do you promise?” I was going to make them swear. I was already freaked out enough about the prospect of working for Miles. Miles, who had done his best to convince me. Even offering more money after he found out how little I made at the bank.

  They all nodded eagerly.

  “Okay,” I swallowed, “today, a man named Miles Wickham—”

  “As in Pride and Prejudice’s Mr. Wickham?” Emma interrupted.

  “Yes.”

  Shelby’s beautiful blue eyes began swirling with possibilities. “Is he British?” They all knew I had a thing for the BBC and British men. It was the accent and the way they carried themselves. It was different than American men.

  “He is,” I breathed out. “Remember, you promised me no conjecturing.”

  They all grinned slyly, telling me they were doing exactly that. I hadn’t even told them the half of it, which gave me no hope for an unbiased opinion now. To their credit, they tried to suppress their smiles. />
  “Anyway,” I continued, “he came into the bank today to open an account. And he happened to have his adorable three-year-old nephew with him, and the little guy and I hit it off.” I thought back to how sad he was to say goodbye to me. His tears broke my heart and made me want to take the job even more than the money. “So much so,” I paused, “his uncle offered me the position of his nanny.” I left out a lot of details—on purpose.

  If I thought my friends looked perplexed before, they were downright puzzled now.

  Jenna pursed her lips. “That’s weird.”

  “You’re not considering it, are you?” Emma asked.

  “Well, kind of. The money is good. Like, really good.”

  Shelby pressed her lips together and thoughtfully stared at me as if she knew there was more to the story. It wasn’t surprising, given her wealthy background. “Who is this man?”

  That got Emma and Jenna thinking too.

  “That’s a good question,” Emma added. “You wouldn’t up and quit the bank for no reason, even though they treat you like crap and we’ve all been telling you forever you deserve better. So why this guy?”

  I should have listened to them, but the bank was stable, and they had promised me that promotion. They were obviously liars. I cleared my throat. “It’s not about the man. It’s the opportunity and his nephew Henry is the sweetest thing.” I rubbed the back of my tense neck. “And I would also be Mr. Wickham’s personal assistant, which would look good on a resume.”

  “How personal?” Jenna blurted. “Are we talking—”

  “No,” I interrupted her dirty mind.

  “Wait.” Emma squinted. “Why would it look good on a resume?”

  I tucked some of my long, curled hair behind my ear. “Here is the part where you absolutely cannot freak out.”

  Their smiles said they were waiting to totally freak out.

  I guess there was no hiding it. “Miles Wickham is an author. A famous one, in fact.”

  Jenna was already on her phone googling him.

  I beat her to the punch. “You might know him better as Taron Taylor.” I braced myself before they all accosted me with hugs.

  “Holy crap!” Emma exclaimed.

  “Mylanta! I knew in my heart you two were meant to meet.” Shelby gripped me the tightest. She was a hugger.

  “Dang it. I got so excited my boobs are leaking.” Jenna pulled away from us and surveyed the damage while reaching in her bag for some tissue. Breast milk spots on her shirt had been her nemesis since her ten-month-old, Elliott, was born. She swore she produced enough to sustain a dozen children.

  I untangled myself from them. “You are all liars. You promised me you wouldn’t freak out.”

  They laughed at me but were all stunned. Believe me, I was too. It was all I thought about all day. We all sat in silence for a moment while they stared at me with wonder in their eyes.

  “So, why is he here with his nephew?” Emma rested against me. Pregnancy was kicking her butt. She’d lost at least ten pounds since she found out at the beginning of last month.

  I put my arm around Emma. “It’s awful. His sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident a couple of months ago.”

  Gasps and hands over hearts were their responses.

  “His poor nephew, Henry, crawled onto my lap and cried himself to sleep over it.” Tears pooled in all our eyes.

  “That’s kind of sweet, though,” Jenna commented.

  “It really was,” I agreed. “He’s adorable.”

  “Like his uncle?” Shelby grinned.

  “His uncle seems to think himself adorable.”

  “So, you flirted with him.” Jenna wagged her brows.

  “I did no such thing,” I defended myself.

  They each rolled their eyes.

  “Anyway, Mr. Wickham is here because his sister and brother-in-law owned a place in Carrington Cove up in the Bluffs.” It was the swankiest of the swanky in Carrington Cove, which was saying something of the once-upon-a-time small town that had turned into a tourist’s dream and resort town.

  Emma lifted her head. “Really? What were their names?” Emma’s dad, Dane Carrington, owned half of Carrington Cove and knew the other half. He and Emma also ran a dude ranch there.

  “Sophie and Kevin Mahoney. Kevin was originally from Denver, I believe.”

  Shelby fanned her misty eyes. “Oh goodness, I knew her. She came into the boutique a few times.” Shelby owned M&M’S on Main, a clothing boutique in Carrington Cove. “Such a beautiful woman with the best taste in clothes. We talked quite a bit when she was in over the summer on holiday, as she called it. She was an interior designer. I knew she was from London, but I had no idea she was related to your Mr. Wickham.”

  “He’s not mine.”

  “Yet.” Shelby patted my knee.

  “He’s a potential employer,” I reminded them all. I was never telling them about the pulse racing thing or the little zing it gave me when he shook my hand. Or those few strands of gray in his dark hair that made my fingers ache to run through his mane.

  “Give us the details on this job.” Jenna was flapping her shirt trying to dry it off.

  I was happy to discuss anything that didn’t involve my friends conjecturing about what this could mean for my nonexistent love life. “It’s pretty involved. I would do everything from taking care of Henry to answering fan mail and keeping up with his social media accounts. Maybe even some proofreading.” Which excited me. I needed to know what happened to Isabella, who’d gone missing at the end of the book with only a cryptic letter hinting she’d disappeared on purpose. But I had a feeling it wasn’t her that left the letter.

  Emma pursed her lips. “How many hours a day would you have to be at his house?”

  I bit my lip. “Well . . . if I took the job, he would want Chloe and me to move into the guest house on his property.” He promised it would all be on the up and up. He kept odd hours as a writer and wanted someone to be there for Henry if need be.

  “What?” Their heads ping-ponged between me and Chloe at the park.

  There was no doubt about it being a big deal. “I know, but most nannies live with their employers, and Chloe’s best friend lives in Carrington Cove and she’s always begging me to move us back so they can go to school together.” We had lived with my parents until Chloe was nine. While she had good friends where we lived now, her closest group remained in Carrington Cove. I had always felt guilty moving her away, but I couldn’t live with my parents forever, and Carrington Cove was out of my price range. Taking this job could change all that. It could change so many things. I gazed at my daughter. More than anything, I wanted to do right by her. This job could be the key to that.

  Shelby took my hand. “Have you vetted this man?” It was funny how they were all gung-ho about me dating him, but living on the same property was a different story. Believe me, I knew.

  “Are you sure he isn’t hoping for some side benefits?” asked Jenna, who now had tissues plastered to her chest.

  I smacked Jenna’s arm. “Of course not, but regardless, I’m going to do my research. As part of that, he invited me to dinner tomorrow night to discuss any questions or concerns I may have.” I had a list.

  “Dinner for two?” Jenna asked not so coyly.

  I rearranged a tissue for her. She’d missed a spot. “He will be bringing his nephew, thank you very much.” He obviously didn’t have anyone to care for him, hence the job offer. Apparently, whoever called had informed him that his nanny wouldn’t be joining him in the states since her boyfriend finally proposed to her after she told him she was moving several thousand miles away. Not sure if that marriage was going to make it. Why had it taken a major life change for him to commit? Oh man, I needed to stop being so jaded toward the opposite sex, but men made it so easy sometimes.

  “A little hanky-panky under the table is great.” Emma nudged me.

  “I’m not going to fool around with a potential employer, or anyone, for that m
atter.”

  “I don’t know, fooling around with your sexy British boss sounds kind of nice,” Jenna sing-songed, making everyone laugh, including me, but only because it was a ridiculous notion. Me and my favorite author? It was never happening.

  “Believe me, ladies, if I accept his offer, it will be strictly business.”

  Chapter Three

  While I sat in bed contemplating my life, I kept staring at Miles’s picture on his website, though he was called Taron there. I had scoured the internet trying to find out as much about him as I could. What I’d gleaned so far was he was forty years old, never married, raised by a single mom, and-based on how many women were draped all over him in the pictures he was featured in—he loved women. The women seemed to adore him too. They all looked at him as if they would sell their souls to remain permanently by his side. I could hardly blame them. He was dashing and he had this enigmatic smile that made you want to know what he was thinking. I should stop thinking like that. I needed to look at him as a potential employer, not future boyfriend material.

  “Hey, Mom.” Chloe walked into my room with a towel on her head, freshly showered after soccer practice.

  “Hi, baby girl.” I patted the ever-empty space next to me in my bed.

  She took the invitation and jumped in bed with me, snuggling into my side. I put my arm around her, breathing in not only her clean scent, but her goodness. I was the luckiest of moms.

  She leaned her head on my shoulder, eyes fixed on my laptop screen. “Who’s that guy?”

  I gave Miles one more glance before I closed my laptop. “Funny you should ask.” I reached for the book on my nightstand and handed it to Chloe, making sure to point out Miles’s picture on the back copy. “He goes by Taron Taylor, but his real name is Miles Wickham. I met him today at the bank.”

  Chloe touched his picture. In it he looked like a brooding author with his hand under his chin. “That’s cool. He’s hot.”