The Nanny Proposal

by Donna Clayton

  He cradled his arms around her, returned her kisses as well as her nibbles. Long, luscious moments were spent with their mouths locked together, their tongues swirling and swaying in that ageless, primal dance of passion. And just as he’d feared, her own eyes opened wide with astonishment when she finally became cognizant of the hardness of him that no amount of restraint could conquer.

  “Oh, my,” she breathed. “Oh. Oh.” She swallowed, tentatively reaching up to touch her moist, kiss-swollen lips. “Oh, my. What have I done? What was I thinking?”

  As she asked herself the horrified, whispery questions, she lifted herself from his lap and scooted back down onto the sofa next to him. Her cheeks burned a bright red, clear evidence that, had she the strength, she’d have fled to her room. But her upper body seemed to tremble like a newborn butterfly that found its wings heavy, awkward, cumbersome.

  “It’s okay.” He knew she needed the reassurance, and he slid his hand down her upper arm.

  She shuddered delectably, and then she swiped her palm against her damp forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “So sorry. I shouldn’t have let—”

  “Please,” he said, cutting her off quickly. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

  She stammered, “B-but…but I never meant to…”

  The remainder of her sentence trailed off into oblivion when he released a good-natured groan and grinned at her. “Don’t say that, either.”

  “B-but I work for you, Greg.”

  Her stutter was so darned cute. Before this moment, he’d never have guessed her to be the nervous kind. She was always so competent. So confident. This uncertainty…this shyness…was just too precious for words.

  “I…I…” Again she faltered. “I don’t want to—I can’t do anything to mess up this job. You don’t know how important it is.”

  Then what looked to be panic flared in her eyes, and Greg chuckled in the hope of calming her.

  “You’re not messing up your job,” he told her. “Believe me.”

  His words didn’t seem to relieve her anxiety one iota. Her gaze darted from him, to the fire, back to him, and then to the coffee table.

  She was so beautiful. So wholesome. So damned desirable. If her perfect white teeth didn’t release the grip they had on her bottom lip, he was certain he was going to have to do one of two things—either grab her up and kiss her soundly, or lose every ounce of his sanity.

  “Oh, no!”

  His gaze followed hers, and he saw that he’d dropped his wineglass, the rose-hued zinfandel staining the cream-colored carpet. Before he could stop her, she darted up from the sofa and raced toward the kitchen. After only a moment, she was back with a damp towel and blotting at the small discoloration.

  “This is all my fault,” she said.

  He reached down and took her arm. “It’s not your fault, Jane. It was my glass. I was the one who dropped it.” But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember doing it. “Come up here.” He tugged at her arm until she once again sat beside him. “Don’t worry about the stain. I’ll have someone come take care of it.”

  Once she was settled beside him, he took the soiled towel from her hand and set it aside. Then he clasped both her hands in his. “You’re upset by what just happened.”

  “I’ve never…ever—”

  Whatever she’d been about to say embarrassed her into another blushing spree. Her throat convulsed in a tight swallow, and when she spoke next, her voice was barely a whisper.

  “I attacked you, Greg. I’m…I’m sorry.”

  She looked away from him, obviously disconcerted beyond measure. His heart melted in his chest. She was so unlike any other woman he’d ever met. He felt this staggering urge to scoop her up in his arms. To protect her from this awkwardness she was feeling.

  She was terribly confident, that showed every day in her tasks as Joy’s nanny. But at this moment she wore vulnerability as if it were a gauzy sheath draped from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She was an enigma that intrigued him to no end.

  Keeping his voice low and steady, he said, “And I’ve already asked you not to apologize. I wanted this…enjoyed this just as much as you.”

  Suddenly, her shoulders squared, her spine straightened as she evidently forced herself to look him in the eyes.

  “I want you to know,” she began, “that I don’t expect anything from you. I’m not looking for some lifelong commitment from you. I know you’re used to fun and frivolity in your…friendships.”

  Greg felt his brow furrow deeply. He murmured, “I thought you weren’t going to listen to rumors.” But she didn’t seem to hear.

  “I can’t explain why I—” She stopped, pursed her lips, took a shaky breath. “I don’t know why I kissed you like that. But I can promise you that I’m not looking for any kind of…of relationship.” She pulled her hands free of his then and hurried from the room.

  Long minutes ticked by as he sat there, motionless. The logs in the hearth snapped and sparked as they were consumed by the flames, but he was barely aware of the sounds.

  He was bothered by her parting remark. But then, bothered was too mild a word to describe the heaviness in his chest. Disturbed would better characterize how he was feeling.

  Now, if he could only figure out why.

  Chapter Seven

  “You did it, didn’t you?”

  Greg looked at Travis, confused by his partner’s accusatory expression and tone. “Did what?” he asked.

  “You crossed the line.”

  This time it was Sloan who made the charge. Greg felt as if he were being ganged up on. But then, he’d known these men a long time, they were his friends, and it wasn’t the first time two of them had teamed against a third. He’d done so himself. Many times. Any time two of them came to the conclusion that the third was headed for some kind of trouble, they didn’t hesitate to butt their noses into one another’s business. That’s what made them such good friends.

  But somehow, this time was different. Greg felt Sloan and Travis were out of line. For although he wasn’t sure what they were censuring him about, he had a strong feeling Jane’s name was about to pop into the conversation.

  “Crossed what line?” he asked, his tone tight. Before either of them could answer, Greg continued, “Look, it’s too early in the morning to be reprimanded. This is a business meeting. Let’s talk business. Anyone have a patient situation that needs discussing?”

  Travis snickered. “When have we ever spent our business meetings discussing just business? And don’t think you can hornswoggle us into not talking about the trouble you’re in—”

  “Hornswoggle?” Sloan laughed out loud.

  “Hey!” Travis cut his eyes at Sloan, obviously affronted. “It’s a word. Look it up. Besides, you’re supposed to be on my side in this.”

  “I am on your side,” Sloan assured him.

  “If you guys are quite through with the slapstick,” Greg said, “I’d like to know what trouble you think I’m in so we can get this out of the way and talk about the important issues. Such as our practice.”

  “There he goes.” Travis eyed Sloan pointedly.

  “Yep,” Sloan murmured. “He’s trying to horn-swoggle us again.”

  Greg only heaved a huge, long-suffering sigh. When these guys had a bone to pick, there was no moving on until it was picked clean.

  “Okay,” Greg said. “Out with it. What did I do? What line did I cross? What has your noses out of joint this time?”

  Travis and Sloan exchanged a quick glance, and then Travis leveled his gaze on Greg.

  “You slept with her, didn’t you?”

  “Slept with—”

  “Don’t try to deny it,” Sloan cut in. “We can tell something has happened between you and Jane. We know you, remember.” A subtle yet substantial change invaded his voice as he added, “We know you well.”

  Again, Sloan and Travis shared a look…a knowing look that caused Greg’s blood pressure to skyr
ocket.

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” His tone was low and ominous. Yes, these men were his best friends in the whole world. But a man could only take so much antagonism before he began to feel like a cornered dog, snarling and ready to bite back.

  “Don’t give us that,” Travis said.

  Sloan added, “You know exactly what we mean.”

  Neither man seemed the least bit intimidated by Greg’s anger. In fact, both their gazes twinkled with the kind of merriment that didn’t need words to explain exactly what they thought of his display of outrage.

  His shoulders sagged a fraction. Who was he kidding? Travis and Sloan did know him. Better than anyone else. And their concern for him was just that—honest concern for a friend. He ought to be grateful for the interest and worry they so willingly invested in him and the happenings of his life. The last thing he should be is angry with them.

  “Look,” he said, “I didn’t sleep with Jane, okay?”

  They stared at him in silence, then exchanged dubious expressions.

  “I didn’t!” he insisted. “I know, given my past history, that you might find that hard to believe. But it’s the truth. On my honor.”

  Sloan murmured to Travis, “Does the man have enough honor left that we can believe him?”

  Holding his index finger and thumb about an inch apart, Travis said, “I guess he’s got just enough left in him to make him relatively believable.”

  Greg had two choices. He could laugh. Or punch his best friends in their ornery faces here and now.

  He laughed. He prized their friendship too much to do anything else.

  “Okay,” Sloan said, “so you didn’t sleep with the woman. But you did cross the line, didn’t you? The two of you have become something more than merely employer and employee.”

  “You kissed her,” Travis said. He didn’t form the words as a question, seeming to already know the answer.

  After a moment, Greg leaned back in his chair, reached up and raked his fingers though his hair. “What? Are you guys peeking through my windows or something?”

  “We don’t have to.” Sloan picked up a ballpoint pen from the conference tabletop and began to twist the lid. “We work with you everyday.”

  Travis just chuckled. Then both men’s gazes sobered and Travis pressed his elbows on the table, leaning toward Greg. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked. “That woman is working for you.”

  “I know. I know.” Greg scrubbed his face with both palms. “But, look, you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I wasn’t the instigator. She was. She kissed me.”

  Two pairs of eyebrows shot skyward in surprise.

  “You expect us to believe that Jane made the first move on you, the Casanova of Philadelphia?” The pen stilled in Sloan’s fingers.

  “I expect you to believe me. Because it’s the truth.”

  The three of them were silent for a moment. Worried that his friends might get the wrong idea about the situation, Greg said, “But she’s not interested in a relationship.”

  “Whoa,” Travis said. “So our Jane’s turned out to be a party girl, has she?”

  But one narrow-eyed look from Greg and Travis was sputtering an apology. “I was just joking, Greg. Just teasing you. Don’t be so touchy. I didn’t mean a thing.”

  “Well, why would she come on to you if she’s not interested in a relationship?” Sloan had set the pen down now, his gaze focused, his brow furrowed.

  Greg heaved a sigh. “She got caught up in the moment?” He shook his head. “I’ve been going around and around trying to figure it out, myself. It’s very…upsetting.”

  “What’s upsetting?” Travis asked softly. “The fact that you’re now on the receiving end of the same kind of treatment you’ve doled out to women for years?”

  His eyes going wide with astonishment, Greg sat there speechless for several seconds. “You think that’s what has me feeling so troubled about…Jane and what happened between us? I never thought about it like that. I’ve been an—” he searched the air for the correct word “—instigator for a very long time. I’ve kissed a lot of women the same way Jane kissed me—”

  “Yes, but the one difference is,” Sloan pointed out, “those women made it clear that they wanted to be kissed, right?” He shot Greg a narrowed glance. “You haven’t been coming on to the woman, have you?”

  “No.” Greg shook his head adamantly. Then he admitted, “I have felt attracted to her.”

  “Of course you have,” Travis murmured. “She’s a woman, isn’t she? And you’re…well, you’re Greg.”

  A dirty look was Greg’s only response.

  Then, Greg continued, “But I promised myself—no, I forced myself to ignore what I felt. I need Jane’s help with Joy. I didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. I told myself that if anything were to happen, it would have to be at her prompting—”

  “Oh, man,” Sloan groaned.

  “What?” Greg threw his hands up in the air. “What’s so wrong about that?”

  “If you felt attracted to the woman, she was going to know. Women have a sixth sense about these things.” Sloan shook his head, lacing his fingers together. “I can’t help but point out that, after all this time, you still know very little about this woman. Did you ever hear from her sister, like she promised?”

  Greg’s lips drew together tightly. Why did they insist on asking difficult questions? Questions he didn’t care to answer. But he knew he had to. Sloan only had his best interest at heart.

  “No,” he answered quietly.

  He thought about how well he’d come to know Jane, and how good she was with his daughter, how loving and giving. Suddenly, Sloan’s suspicion seemed silly.

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” Greg said, a sudden tenseness straining his words. “Jane and her sister are notorious bank robbers. I haven’t heard from her sister because the two of them pulled the job of the century and they’re both in hiding. Her sister can’t call me, see, because the federal government has my phone bugged.”

  Surely now his friends would have no trouble understanding what he thought of their continued mistrust of Jane.

  “Na, that can’t be it.” Travis’s tone was just as serious as the day was long. “If Jane had robbed a bank she’d be sitting on the beach of some tropical island right now sipping a cool, frothy drink from a coconut shell, not laundering Greg’s smelly T-shirts, washing his dirty dishes and baby-sitting his ten-month-old baby girl.”

  “My T-shirts do not smell,” Greg commented.

  “Yeah,” Travis said, “and I can recommend a good doctor who’ll be happy to check out your nose, ’cause it don’t seem to be working.”

  The men sat in silence, and finally Travis laughed. Greg couldn’t help but crack a smile.

  “You two joke all you want,” Sloan said, refusing to join in the joviality. “But you mark my words, something isn’t right with that woman. She’s not being completely honest about something.”

  Greg stood up and reached for the files he’d set on the table upon entering the meeting. “I have to tell you, Sloan, your suspicions are wearing a bit thin.” He tapped the edges of the folders on the table to straighten them. “If you’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner, then you should know that Jane’s going to be there. And I don’t want you saying anything that might hurt her feelings, or have her thinking that you don’t like her.”

  Why was he acting so damned protective? The irritation pumping through his veins kept him from delving too deeply into whatever answer he might have for the question.

  Finally, he said, “You guys have a good day. I’m outta here. I have patient files to update.”

  With that said, he left the room.

  He’d just closed his office door when there was a tap on it. Greg opened it to find the office manager standing there.

  “Hi, Rachel,” he said.

  He frowned when the woman didn’t return her usual smile of greeting.

  “Can I com
e in a minute, Greg?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He ushered her inside and closed the door. “Is there a problem? One of the nurses giving you trouble? Someone give their notice?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.” She reached up and tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “But there is something…”

  “What is it? I’ll help you work it out if I can.” Greg’s brows drew together. Rachel was efficient and highly motivated. A problem solver. It was rare that she came to the partners with a complaint or a problem, and when she did, she usually called a meeting so that all the partners were included.

  “I, um,” she began hesitantly, “I couldn’t help overhearing a little of what went on just now in the meeting.”

  Greg groaned. “Oh, not you, too, Rachel. Look, I’m getting enough flack about Jane from Travis and Sloan—”

  She stopped him with a firm shake of her head. “No, I wasn’t going to say a word against your new nanny. I’ve seen Jane with Joy. She’s wonderful with that baby. The only advice I can give you there is to follow your heart. Listen to what your heart tells you, and you can’t go wrong.”

  Then she averted her eyes. “But—” again she hesitated, her gaze returning to his face “—I, um, I was going to ask you to have a little patience with Sloan.”

  Thinking about Sloan’s behavior this morning, how he continued to doubt Jane like a hound dog on a scent, Greg frowned. “What’s wrong with Sloan, Rachel?”

  “Well, he’s having some problems at home.”

  Immediately, Sloan’s set of triplet daughters flashed into his mind. “The girls? One of them sick?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Rachel absently toyed with the upper corner of the stack of insurance forms she cradled in one arm. “Just a few…growing pains. But Sloan is stressed out about it. I just thought you should know.”

  Greg was silent a moment. “It’s awfully nice of you to tell me.”

  Color tinged her cheeks, and Greg saw her emotions just as clearly as if they had been words spelled out on a blackboard. He wanted to tell the woman to stay away from poker tables. She’d never successfully conceal a good hand of cards.