by Aria Ford
“Are you sure?”
He laughed. “Sure I am.”
He smiled and I smiled back, feeling my stomach flip. I slid into the seat, wincing as I did it less elegantly than she would have liked. He grinned at me, eyes sparkling, as if he shared my thoughts and thought they were funny. Then he opened the rear door.
“Everybody in!”
The kids clambered in. Alex grinned at me where he stood outside, waiting for them to settle themselves down before he shut the door. He looked happier than ever. He slid into the seat beside me. I held my breath. Sitting next to him made me feel strangely shy. Why is it that one’s skin suddenly gets so sensitive, as if it would sense out every breath of someone, shiver at their slightest glance?
I stopped thinking about it and looked out of the window. Then he flicked the switch for the front gate and backed up slowly. The road behind, a wide, almost-deserted road through leafy countryside, appeared slowly from behind the wall as we reversed through the gate.
“Whee!”
Jack was laughing as the wind caught his hair. Cammi was squealing with excitement. Alex was grinning. My hair was already catching the wind. Left loose about my shoulders, it billowed around by my face, whipping into my eyes. I gave a little chuckle and smiled at Alex. He grinned back.
“Okay, let’s really go!”
He put his foot on the gas and lurched forward, until we were bowling along at ninety. The kids were screeching and giggling, and I found it hard to breathe.
“Fun, isn’t it?” he asked, grinning across at me. It was such a sweet, boyish grin that it took years off his face. I had no idea how old he was, but just then he was a teenager, showing off.
“Windy!” I replied, and it was: my hair was everywhere…in my eyes, my mouth, whipping back from my head and promising to be a mass of tangles later in the evening.
He laughed. “You can say that again!”
I chuckled. “Windy!” I said again.
Behind me, the children were laughing and shrieking. I felt my own heart beating. I looked across at the man beside me, noting his strong hands on the steering-wheel. They were thickly-muscled and veined, as if he spent some of his free time climbing in the hills.
We slowed down after a moment. It was possible to look out of the window and see the countryside as it slid silently past.
“Lovely trees, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said in agreement. They were. I leaned back and let myself enjoy the scenery—tall, green trees, white, pale sky just settling into the pale orange and gold of sunset. I was deeply aware of the man in the seat beside me and his every gesture, from the way he gripped the wheel to the way he stroked a hand across his temple, flattening his own wild-ruffled hair.
Jack and Cammi were playing some complicated game involving the number of yellow cars they spotted, their voices shrill in the back. Here, in the front of the car, Alex was strangely silent. The sun was setting, the trees long-shadowed.
Alex drove us onward until, after a time difficult to measure, we arrived at the bank of a small river. Cool shade surrounded us. The water danced under the light.
“Here we are,” Alex said, smiling. “Okay, kids! Who wants to run around?”
“Me!” Cammi shouted.
“Whee!”
The children vaulted out, giggling excitedly, as he opened the door, letting them out onto the cool green grass. They rushed off toward the water’s edge, leaving Alex and I surrounded by a bubble of silence.
“It’s beautiful here.”
“I thought you’d like it,” Alexander said, with a gentle smile.
I swallowed hard. He thought I’d like it? He actually cared about what I thought? My heart thumped. I smiled nervously back, feeling my throat suddenly stiff with shy pleasure.
“The sunset over the river is…moving,” Alexander said, indicating the distant orange glow where it shone on the water, turning all of it to radiant, polished metal.
“It is,” I agreed quietly.
Together, with the water lapping at the bank before us, we stood and watched the sunset. Alexander moved closer. When his hand brushed my own my heart stopped. Slowly, gently, his fingers curled around so that they held mine.
When his hand was over mine, I thought I would stop breathing, but I didn’t. Instead, I carefully clasped his own. His fingers were strong and warm and the skin was soft, which was unexpected and deeply arousing. I held his hand and, together, alone in the silence, we watched the light on the river.
“It is nice here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I used to bring the kids here often. Good place to let them run and work off some energy. There’s nothing for them to run into or break here,” he said with a huff of laughter.
“You mean like the lawn?” I asked archly. I regretted the words the moment I had said them.
“Yes,” he said. “Like that. Emma,”
“What?” I asked.
“I didn’t know what I was doing. You do understand. Don’t you? I didn’t mean to be a…a tyrant with them.” His eyes were beseeching and I wished I knew what to say to answer his desperate need to be assuaged and reassured.
I sighed. “You were doing your best, Alexander.”
It was, I think, the first time I used his name. He started, as if I had slapped him. We stared at each other and he smiled.
“Really?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard, brushing a stray hair off my brow to compose myself. “I know you love them. I can see it. They know it too. Though I think little things like this really help,” I added, looking toward the water, where Jack was reaching in and Cammi stood on the bank beside him, shouting excitedly.
“I hope so,” he added. He, too, was watching the children. While they stood there, his arm strayed, coming to rest with his hand on my shoulder.
Oh, my word.
My heart was pounding, and yet I felt as if my whole world had just stopped, standing still somehow, the sunset a painting before my eyes while the only reality was between us, his touch on my arm, his voice in my ear. It felt as if we had stood thus forever. I thought it was a foolish thought. But it felt real. It felt right.
“Alexander.”
“What?” he asked, turning, one dark brow raised in questioning.
I giggled, and looked at my feet. I hadn’t really wanted to say anything, just to say his name. It felt nice. I hadn’t realized I had spoken it aloud. “Sorry. Nothing.”
“Tell me.” He squinted at me, wanting to tease me into telling whatever it was I was thinking of.
“No, really,” I insisted. “It was nothing.”
“Well then,” he said very softly.
With that, he leaned forward. His lips met mine.
If heaven had a taste, it was there. And if I could choose to feel anything in my life every day from this moment until I died, it would be the feel of his lips sliding, tentative and exploratory, over mine.
When the children came running up from the water, shouting excitedly and waving the stick they had salvaged, I was standing decorously beside Alexander. One would have had to look carefully to see the trail of moisture on his lip, the bruising on my own. But it was there.
Fortunately, the children didn’t look too closely. But he did. When we all turned to walk back to the car, the children following his easy gesture with the keys, he lifted his hand and carefully traced my lip with his thumb. I kissed it. He smiled.
Feeling as if I had entered paradise, I walked with him to the car. Later, I would wonder about this. Later, I was sure, I would regret it. I would question what he was thinking, and question what I was thinking, and doubt the wonder that I felt and doubt his sincerity. Now, just now, with the light gilding the road before us, the wind soft in the leaves, life was perfect and I would do nothing to question it.
Chapter 6
Emma
I woke up the next morning with my head in the clouds, feeling on top of the world. I had dreamed
strange, distant dreams that left me smiling. My stomach was full of fluttering. I rolled out of bed and walked across the soft carpet to draw the curtains.
Alex.
I could not forget yesterday, his words. His kiss. I wished I could understand what went on in his head, what made him act the way he did with me the one moment, the change everything the next.
He was so cold the other day, sending me out of his office, even though I knew he wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted him to. And then, the next day, he made a special outing and included me? Stood with me, as if we had known each other for lifetimes. Asked my help.
What is this all about?
As I washed my hair in the shower, loving the scent of the shower-gel I had found in here when I arrived, I tried to understand. Of all the scenarios that marched resolutely through my mind, the only one I refused to consider was that Alexander Carring might have feelings for me. It made absolutely no sense.
He’s a billionaire, for pity’s sake. He could have any stunning starlet he wanted. He’s not going to go falling for some sassy-mouthed nanny because she bosses him around.
I knew I was probably being unfair to myself, but then, I was trying to be realistic. Surely it was just true that he wouldn’t think of me like that? I wasn’t exactly stunning and, in my own mind, I had little else to recommend me.
I sighed, rolling my shoulders as the warm water soothed the tension. Stepping somewhat-reluctantly out of the floral steam, I walked across the smooth tiles and into the bedroom again. I had moved my things into the elegant wardrobe two days after I arrived, and I surveyed them carefully.
When I found myself with two shirts, hesitating over which one—the brown or the red—best brought out the hazel of my eyes, I stopped.
Emma? This is crazy.
I threw both shirts on the bed, reaching for my most-horrid one and pulled it resolutely on, letting my hair untangle down my back.
“You’re behaving like a teen girl,” I told myself harshly, glaring at my reflection. She glared back, hands on hips, but somehow she didn’t seem too embarrassed about that. I sighed.
Assuming that the impossible were true, that Alexander Carring might actually like me, then what? Would I really want to be involved with such a man? Face the media storms, the premieres, the events he had to attend? I was frumpy, inelegant, irredeemable. I wasn’t the sort of woman who could do that. And would I want to walk into his life?
Emma, you don’t even know who his wife is.
It was true. I sighed, sinking into a seat. I looked at the clock, checking the time, then closed my eyes. It was eight o’clock. Still a while until the kids appeared for breakfast. I had time to think. Except that, suddenly, I didn’t want to. Didn’t want to face the idea he might have a wife.
“Of course he does, Emma!”
Well. He must have done, or who was the mother? And who, for that matter, was in the set of framed portraits in his office?
He was probably divorced, in which case there would be the ex to deal with and the children having to see her every other week—well, they hadn’t yet, but this was his holiday, which was presumably why he hired me—and having to know he still loved her.
I shook my head, wondering at my stupidity. Of course he still loved her. Why would that bother me? If he loved me too, that would be enough.
I laughed, standing up and walking to the window. Outside, the trees rustled in the wind. If Alexander Carring truly loved me, I thought, hugging myself and feeling a deep, happy warmth fill me, then I wouldn’t mind if he loved every woman in creation. As long as he loved me too. That would be enough.
I recalled the way his lips drifted over my own, the feel of his hand in mine. The way his eyes sometimes gazed into mine, as though we shared everything, knew each other. It would be enough.
I let the happy giggle that had been building up in me rise to the surface and, still smiling, I fell backward onto the soft, springy mattress.
Lying there for a few moments, I allowed my imagination free rein on the topic Alexander and imagining him with me here, now, while I kissed him and gave him my all.
Then I turned to the bitter alternatives that faced me here, now, in the all-too-real present.
“You should leave.”
I stood up, feeling as if summer had fled, freezing me. I could not even consider doing it. It was, however, the right thing to do. I was sure of it.
If I stay, it will make things harder for him as well.
I did not allow myself to believe he cared, but I could accept that maybe he relied on me. He had changed so much in the last week, his parenting improving. What if he was only managing because I was here? Wouldn’t it be better to leave him now, while he could still forge his own relationship with the two children alone?
And what about them? They liked me and I would have to leave in three weeks’ time anyway. I should make the cut now, while it would still be easy.
I brushed my hair off my face, wincing as I noticed its wildness in the mirror.
One thing is sure, Emma, I told my reflection severely as I finished my makeup, you will never make a billionaire wife.
I was inelegant, totally awkward. I was not the smooth, seductive, elegant lady he needed.
He could have so much better. And he might do. I couldn’t forget that he did have a wife. She was a glamor girl and I was a frump. It would be so much better for him if he at least found someone like her. Someone not like me.
I went down the hallway to the dining-room and was crossing the threshold, tucking hair behind my ears, when my thoughts were shattered by a sudden shout.
“Emma!”
It was Cammi. I ran in, heart thudding, legs pounding, to find her sitting innocently on the chair, smiling up at me with a guileless smile.
“Cammi!” I blurted. “What in Heaven’s name was that?”
“Told you I could fetch her,” Cammi said smugly. Jack grinned.
“Sorry, Emma,” he explained. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”
My hand on my chest, stilling my beating heart, I collapsed beside her. For two people who didn’t mean to frighten me, they sure did a great job. Naturals, apparently. I chuckled weakly, still catching my breath after my heroic run to the chair. Both kids were looking at me expectantly. I blinked, then sat up straight.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “What’s up?”
Jack looked as though he was about to burst with anticipation. Cammi drew a deep breath, clearly the chosen spokesperson.
“We saw Daddy at breakfast,” she began slowly. “An’ he looked very happy. And we saw you yesterday, and Daddy, kissing under the trees.” She looked down when she said it, seeming shy. Then she smiled up at me, a gap-toothed grin.
My hand flew to my face. The surprise made my cheeks warm. Had they seen? The thought was wonderfully shocking. That kiss had not been suitable for children. And the little minxes! Had they been hiding behind the trees, watching their father and I as we…as we…
“You two!” I blurted, suddenly laughing, my cheeks flaming red. “What were you doing, spying?”
Jack giggled and Cammi blushed. I guessed it had been his idea. Jack cleared his throat, looking suddenly solemn.
“What we wanted to ask you, Emma, is if Daddy is going to get married again. If you and Daddy…” he trailed off, looking at his hands. “If you…”
I stared at him. Married? To their daddy? To Alexander…
I stopped the train of thought, unable to even consider it. My heart thudded with the delicious possibility. What were they thinking? We had known each other for almost a week now, a little longer. Why would they assume that I…that he…that we would do that?
“Kids?” I said, feeling suddenly weak. “Where did you, get that idea from?”
Cammi looked at me, suddenly shy. “We just thought that…I mean, we’ve never see Daddy do, you know, grownup things, with anyone. Not since Mommy…” she trailed off with a shy smile at me.
I couldn’t hel
p the flush of happiness that flowed through me. Alexander had kissed me in front of the kids, and he had really never done that before? With anyone? My cheeks were flushed, but this time with happiness, not shock.
“Well, I don’t know, kids,” I said after a long moment, during which I let the wonderful possibility of Alexander being interested in me, really, as a person, play around my head. I imagined for a few brief moments what it would be like if they were right. If we were married, and we were sharing a bed. My body had wanted his from the moment I saw him, I realized now. I imagined him as the lover I had longed for, and myself, lying below him.
My happiness was not that long-lived. Two solemn faces looked up at me, eyes round with expectation. They were looking at me as if I had just magically solved all their problems and it was a huge amount of pressure. Pressure I couldn’t, in the real world, actually redress. I knew that. I just had to tell them now.
“Kids,” I said, feeling suddenly weary. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. “I really, really, really like you. And your daddy. Really. But I don’t think I’m…I just don’t think that’s going to happen. Okay? I’m sorry. I really am. But not possible. Okay?”
The expressions on their faces told me it was not okay at all. Jack looked up at me with big sad eyes. Cammi looked away, suddenly confused.
“But Emma…” she protested, lip wobbling and blue eyes cloudy with sudden tears.
“You don’t think that maybe…” Jack began, “that you could make it happen? I mean, we haven’t seen Daddy so happy for years, and…”
I stared at him. They wanted me to somehow force marriage with a reluctant, reclusive billionaire? Really? They wanted me to make their lives happier? They were seeing me as some kind of cure-all. There was no way, seeing as I was only going to be in their lives for about a month, that they should be seeing me like that. It meant that they were going to feel betrayed when I left, that they would feel like I let them down. I had, in short, broken the first rule of kid-support, my first rule: don’t make them rely on you.
“Okay,” I sighed, half-standing. My head was spinning and I suddenly couldn’t think straight, so I sat back down. “I think there’s something I need to say,” I began as they looked at me expectantly. “Marriage has to come from both sides. And, because of a thing called culturally-ingrained sexism, which I won’t discuss now, the man is the one who asks for there to be a marriage. So, you see, I can’t make your daddy marry me. Or anyone else. I just can’t.”
