Nanny 911

by Julie Miller

  “You saw this image?” The mainframe room, the brain center, of the GSS office building in the northern section of Kansas City stared back at them.

  “Yes. There was a person there when I saw it. Could have been a man or woman, but it was just a glimpse. White coat. I couldn’t see a face.”

  Quinn put on his glasses and picked up the phone on his desk. The late hour didn’t matter. He paid his people good money to be roused at any time of day or night if there was an emergency. And this could be a big one.

  He stared hard at the camera shot captured by the computer until a drowsy voice picked up. “Hello?”

  “Ozzie? Quinn here. I need you to run a diagnostic on our computer system. I’ll meet you at the lab first thing in the morning. I think somebody tapped into our mainframe.”

  “We’ve been hacked?” He could hear Ozzie Chang waking up. Sitting up. Going on alert. “Impossible.”

  “At the very least, somebody tried. I need you to get to the lab and run a full diagnostic on the system. Find out how deep it goes into our design work and programming. Bring in whatever help you need.”

  “I’m on it, boss.”

  After hanging up, Quinn took Miranda by the elbow and walked her to the door. “I’m going to be on the phone awhile longer. But you’d better get some sleep. It’s already morning and I want you well rested for Fiona.”

  She planted her stockinged feet and turned in the doorway. “Is this something major?”

  Quinn shrugged. “It’s not the first time someone’s tried to get into the GSS network. A good hacker could get his hands on some very sensitive, very costly information.” Someone had gotten into GSS, but had they gotten beyond all the firewalls and passwords and layers of security code they’d built into the system? “I need to find out what programs, if any, were actually accessed.”

  “Do you think it’s related to the threats?”

  “There’s no way to tell yet. It could be a diversion. Or, threatening my daughter could be the diversion that kept me occupied while someone tried to break in. It could be unrelated altogether.” He touched the soft cotton of her sleeve again, dismissing her into the hallway. “There’s no way to tell until my staff and I get in there and look.”

  “Mr. Gallagher—”

  “Quinn. If we’re going to be working together, living together, we might as well be on a first-name basis.”

  “Then I’m Randy.”

  “No, you’re not.” Quinn deliberately dropped his gaze to the tiny nips beading beneath her long-sleeve T-shirt, and the decadent flare of her backside in those soft flannel pants. And then he sought out the intriguing beauty of her eyes. There was nothing boyish about that strong body of hers, or his reaction to it. “Is it all right if I call you Miranda instead?”

  “No one calls me…” Her lips parted on a heated breath and bowed out in a tempting curve the way they had earlier in the evening. He’d be kissing her before this week together was done, Quinn was certain of it. It might be a damn fool move, and he wished he had the strength to ignore the attraction arcing between them. When her tongue darted out to moisten the curve, and an answering heat sparked inside him, he was doubly certain it was going to happen. “Miranda’s good.”

  “Thank you for bringing the computer malfunction to my attention.” He brushed his fingers over the back of her hand, intrigued by the contrast of velvety softness and sinewy strength. He gently caught her in his grip and squeezed. “Good night, Miranda.”

  Her fingers tangled with his and squeezed back. “Good night, Quinn. Don’t worry about Fiona. Do your job. And I’ll do mine. I’ll stay with her tonight.”

  He couldn’t wait any longer for the inevitable. Cautious of any sign that he’d read this draw between them all wrong, Quinn dipped his head and pressed his lips against hers. They were warm, soft, as lushly tempting to the taste and touch as they’d been to the eye.

  Her mouth opened slightly, moved beneath his, and he adjusted his stance to claim what she offered. Miranda braced her fist against his chest and rose onto her toes, sealing the bond between them more fully.

  He thanked her for caring about his daughter, encouraged her to care a little about him, too. He caught her bottom lip between his, pulled on it gently, dabbed his tongue along the sleek, warm curve of it. Quinn shifted on his feet, instinctively wanting to move closer. He angled his mouth one way. She turned her mouth to fit his. Her tongue brushed his lips, darted to meet the tip of his. Her throat hummed with a breathy moan when he took command of the kiss again.

  Their hands touched, their lips touched, and little more. It was just a kiss. A simple, tender, leisurely, getting-acquainted kind of kiss.

  Yet Quinn sensed the low-burning flame kindling deep inside him, stirring in his blood. This kiss crossed the barriers of boss and employee, father and protector, professional and personal—clarifying them into basic man and basic woman, linking him to Miranda in ways that were too new and delicate and unexpected for him to process right now.

  And he needed to be able to process. He needed to be in control of his thoughts and actions right now, especially when he wanted nothing more than to loosen that golden ponytail and tunnel his fingers into the silky cascade of Miranda’s hair. He wanted to drive her back against that door frame and deepen the kiss, to feel that taut, slender body pressed against his. He wanted to fill his hands with that beautiful bottom and drag her up against the undeniable interest of his body.

  Instead, Quinn ended the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. For a moment, he savored the gentle caresses of each stuttering breath against his cheek and lost himself in the drowsy passion in her eyes. “Wh-why did you kiss me?” she whispered.

  Still looking to question him? Quinn smiled down at her. “Why did you kiss me back?”

  Then he retreated a step, released her hand, let the cool night air of the house move between them. This wasn’t the time for investigating just how far this attraction between them would go. It wasn’t the time for giving in to wants. He had to leave if she wouldn’t.

  “We each have a job to do.” He nudged her into the hallway and closed the door on temptation. “Good night.”

  Chapter Seven

  4 Days until Midnight, New Year’s Eve

  Miranda sat across the breakfast table watching Fiona sticking the fruit-ring cereal she wasn’t eating onto her fingers and onto her doll’s nonexistent fingers, subsequently dropping most of them into her lap or onto the floor.

  Miranda’s own oatmeal and sliced bananas were eaten, the bowl and spoon washed. The second mug of coffee she’d poured herself had cooled. She wondered how many more bites of cereal could possibly be in that bowl, and just how long she was supposed to wait for the easily entertained little girl to either become full or tire of her creative jewelry making.

  And while she sat and waited, Miranda noted how easily Fiona Gallagher smiled and laughed. Although the rich color of blue in her eyes was the same, their expression bore a marked contrast to her father.

  Quinn Gallagher was more like Jekyll and Hyde than the comic-book alter egos he resembled physically. He was bossy and arrogant, used to people not questioning his orders. He was clever and stubborn and demanding. Yet he was heartsick and unsure about his daughter’s safety. He was a vigilant protector of his home and family. He commanded a small staff and hundreds of employees and half the world’s law enforcement and military supply lines, if the press about GSS was to be believed. Yet he seemed isolated and alone high in his ultramodern office and behind the tall, thick walls surrounding his home.

  She was alone because her brother was overseas and she had no other family. She hadn’t been able to develop really close relationships with the men she worked with because she was the newest member of the team, she was a woman, and she was the only member who wasn’t at least married and starting a family. And she was so busy with work or training for work or worrying about work that she hadn’t had much luck developing female friendships beyond the tentat
ive bond she shared with Sergeant Delgado’s wife, Josie. But Josie had a new baby, a new marriage and a new job as a trauma nurse. Miranda wasn’t about to impose herself on Josie’s time and put a strain on that one woman-to-woman bond. She’d become a pro at avoiding those fragile relationships that she seemed to have a talent for messing up in any number of ways.

  Quinn Gallagher was alone because he’d lost the woman he’d loved to violence, and he wasn’t about to care about anyone so deeply that it was worth the risk of losing someone else. He was alone because, like Miranda, he didn’t quite fit in with the people around him. They deferred to him. They served him. They might even fear him. He was up on such a pedestal of wealth and power that people avoided getting too personal with him.

  And yet, last night, in the silent shadows of a doorway warmed only by the lights of the Christmas tree in his study, two lonely people from two different worlds had connected. She and Quinn had created their own little world filled with hushed words and secret vows and a kiss.

  A purple cereal ring bounced across the table and Miranda absently popped the sugary bite into her mouth, touching her lips and remembering that kiss.

  In some ways, she supposed, it had been just a casual kiss. Other than her hand on the soft flannel of his robe and their lips, their bodies hadn’t touched. Yet she’d been tempted to splay her fingers against the wall of his chest, to slide her palm inside to find the warmth of the skin she could feel through the velvety cotton.

  No one had groped anything. Although even now, she could remember the pulsing grip of his hand around hers, as though his fingers were anxious to explore but unsure if they’d be welcome on her body.

  His tongue had lightly tasted the tip of hers. His supple mouth had squeezed and pressed and gently suckled. The grip of Quinn’s hand had been sure around hers—a support, a comfort, a connection.

  Miranda couldn’t remember ever being kissed like that—so gently, so thoroughly, so perfectly. Even now, in the wintry morning sunlight shining through the bank of windows in a cereal-studded kitchen, she could feel that kiss.

  She’d gone all melty and gooey inside in a way that was totally at odds with the man and her mission. She’d sensed a power in Quinn, a potent male need held in check by the sheer strength of his will. And if that will had surrendered for even one moment, she suspected the warmth inside her would have exploded in a wild conflagration.

  Remembering that kiss this morning made her temperature rise and her chest ache and parts of her body that had rarely been a priority ache to touch and be touched, to hold and be held, to kiss and be kissed again.

  Quinn strode into the kitchen, startling Miranda from her thoughts. “I’m going into the office to meet with my chief software designer to make sure the computer simulation for that patent…” The remembered heat flooded her cheeks and she hid her face behind a sip of tepid coffee. Quinn pulled his leather gloves back off and tossed them onto the breakfast bar. “What is she doing?”

  “Eating breakfast.”

  “She’s making a mess.”

  Miranda rose to defend herself at the subtle accusation she heard in his voice. “Yes, but I figured I would wait until she was done and then clean everything up just one time.”

  Definitely Jekyll and Hyde. And there was no sign of the needy, passionate loner she’d connected with last night in the kitchen with her this morning. This was the GSS mogul, the brilliant eccentric, the man who gave orders—not the frightened father and tender lover who’d reached out to her in the shadows of the night.

  He was dressed in a black wool coat, a suit and tie. Still, he reached for Fiona, lifted her from her booster seat and sat her in a clean chair at the side of the table to brush the bits and crumbs off her pajamas. “She was probably done twenty minutes ago. Get a washrag out of the drawer next to the sink and wet it.”

  Fiona held up her long, tiny fingers while Miranda found a cloth to clean her. “See my wings, Daddy?”

  “I see them, sweetie.” He nibbled one of the cereal rings off her finger and she chortled with delight. Quinn ate another bite from her hand, and another. By the time he’d polished them all off, she was belly-laughing and hugging him around the neck. He was a handsome man when he smiled and, frankly, a little intimidating when he didn’t. Miranda wasn’t feeling the love when he took the damp cloth from her fingers and started cleaning Fiona’s face and fingers. “You really don’t know anything about raising children, do you?” he said over the little girl’s head.

  Miranda bristled at the unfair attack. She’d been up front with him about her skill set when she’d agreed to this job. “I’m not on loan from KCPD because I have a way with kids.”

  He did not just roll his eyes, did he? “Are you at least armed?”

  She tapped the back of her jeans and the weapon secured there. “24/7 this week. I’m keeping track of my Glock at all times since she’s going to be around it.”

  “Good.”

  “Petwa?” Fiona reached for her doll in the messy chair.

  In a surprising maneuver of multitasking efficiency, Quinn dabbed at the doll’s face, then handed the doll to Fiona before giving Miranda the rag and some advice. “Fiona’s a little girl. She doesn’t eat all that much at a sitting. Try smaller portions and snacks throughout the day rather than three big meals. When she starts playing with her food, that’s usually a sign that she’s done.”

  “Thanks.” So maybe a little bit of Dr. Jekyll had shown up this morning, after all. “I’ll remember that.”

  “She can be taught.”

  Was that a joke? Even if it was at her expense, it was worth a smile. “Don’t worry about the mess,” she promised. “I’ll clean up.”

  “Make sure you dress her warmly today. I’d like her to get some fresh air.”

  A brief moment of panic set in the moment he turned away. “What kind of games does she play outside?”

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed in that quizzical expression. “There’s a foot of snow on the ground. What would you play?”

  “Okay. I can do that.” She breathed a little easier. Building snowmen and forts wouldn’t be nearly as hard as figuring out the nighttime routine had been.

  Cereal crunched beneath Quinn’s shoe as he went back to the counter for his gloves and pulled his keys from his pocket. “Make sure you grab a radio from the command center and let them know when you go out and come back in. You’ve got a key card and understand the security codes?”

  “Yes, sir.” She patted the rear pocket of her jeans.

  She wondered if Quinn’s gaze had lingered an extra moment on the spot where she’d patted her hand. He adjusted the corner of his glasses, masking the exact angle of his eyes. “I should be home early this afternoon unless there’s an issue with the simulation. And there won’t be. I have to prove it works by noon.”

  That was a sobering reminder of the real reason she was here. “What happens if you can’t do everything this guy asks?”

  Quinn looked down at Fiona, who’d kicked off a slipper and was now picking up cereal with her toes. He bent over to kiss the crown of his daughter’s hair. “I’m not giving him the chance to find out.”

  MIRANDA WAS FEELING LIKE a little girl herself as she ducked down behind the wall of the snow fort she and Fiona had built. It was an easy game of hide-and-seek, where they hid in the same place every time, and finding each other was all about the squeals of laughter and loud Aha!s of discovering a new friend.

  Fiona’s laughter was like a tonic to Miranda’s doubting soul. In that little girl’s eyes, the lopsided snowman and leaning fort wall were works of art. Conversations were simple and didn’t always include words the other one understood, but there was real communication taking place. And despite the ever-present Petra and girly garb of pink on pink, from the topknot of her stocking cap to the toes of her tiny insulated boots, there were definite signs of a fellow tomboy lurking inside Fiona Gallagher.

  Miranda held her breath as she heard the pink boots cru
nching in the snow and the breathy exertion of her companion scrambling over the top of the wall. She hunkered down in the icy snow, knowing there was no place for Fiona to land but on top of her.

  “Aha! Found you.”

  Miranda rolled over, catching Fiona in her lap and laughing with her. “You found me. Yay!”

  Obeying an unexpected impulse, Miranda hugged Fiona tight and kissed her cold, rosy cheek. When Fiona yanked her doll up between them, Miranda gladly kissed Petra’s damp face, too.

  It was so easy to fall in love with Fiona’s sweet laugh and beautiful spirit, and Miranda was well on her way there. Her time outside with Quinn’s daughter this morning was the best celebration of the winter holidays Miranda had enjoyed in a long time. She was relaxed, having fun, in delightful company.

  But she wasn’t about to forget her responsibilities. She pulled back the cuff of her coat to check the time. They’d been outside for almost an hour now. And though she’d bundled up Fiona in enough layers to resemble a small blimp in her snowsuit, she wasn’t going to risk the chance of her getting chilled. Besides, Miranda’s own stomach was beginning to grumble for a bite of lunch.

  Using a newly acquired skill to encourage Fiona’s cooperation, Miranda peeled off her glove to check the doll’s muslin cheeks. “I think Petra’s getting cold. Should we get her inside for some hot soup?”

  Fiona mimicked the same touch with her pink mittens on the doll’s face and agreed. “Petwa’s cold.”

  “Okay. Let’s go in.” Miranda put her glove back on and dusted the snow from her jeans as she stood. Then she dusted the snow off Fiona’s suit while Fiona brushed the snow off her doll.

  A flash of light in the corner of her eye stopped Miranda from taking Fiona’s hand. She turned her head, wondering what she’d seen. Scanning the wide expanse of the Gallagher acreage, though, she saw nothing but the creek, the tall white wall covered in ivy, the tops of the trees beyond and lots of undisturbed snow between them and the front gate. “Hmm.”