The Nanny Proposal

by Donna Clayton

  “Like I said,” he told her, “we always have a good time. But today was extra special. Because of you.”

  The kiss he’d given her in the kitchen early this morning…the meaningful looks he’d cast her way all day…even his whispered words of appreciation at dinner. All these things had made her feel so…so special.

  But you shouldn’t feel special. The thought floated through her brain like an unwelcome storm cloud. You can’t be special. Not with this ugly lie still planted firmly between you like a hundred-year-old oak tree with branches that reach out and ensnare everyone in its grip.

  Everyone? Jane felt confused. Bewildered as to why that thought would enter her head. She’d only lied to Greg.

  Not so. She’d lied to Rachel weeks ago in order to get an appointment with Greg. And she’d gone along with this dinner, she’d entertained Sloan and Travis and the girls and Rachel…all the while allowing them to believe that her only interest in Greg and Joy was in being the baby’s nanny.

  All Greg’s friends were involved in her lie. They’d become caught up in the tangle of branches that seemed to grow ever more cumbersome, ever more complicated. She had to tell Greg the truth. She just had to tell him before—

  Suddenly, his arm was around her shoulder and he was pulling her closer to him.

  “The day was perfect,” he murmured in a soft and sexy tone, “because you were here to share it with me.”

  All day long his attention had made her feel so wonderful. But now it made her feel threatened. It was wrong. She couldn’t let this go on.

  Tell him. Tell him the truth, her conscience scolded her. Get everything out in the open.

  But the whole day—the whole memory of the day—would be ruined if she blurted out her true identity now. Her wonderful memory would be ruined forever.

  Tomorrow, a gentler voice suggested. Break the news to him gently. Tomorrow. She latched on to the thought for all she was worth.

  “Greg,” she said, “I’m awfully tired. It’s been a long day.”

  He looked surprised. He looked hurt. Rebuffed. He took his arm from around her.

  “Look, honey,” he said, “this isn’t what you think. I know you’ve heard about my…reputation. But this isn’t like that. Not at all. You’ve got to believe me when I say that you—”

  “Wait, Greg. Stop.” She set her wineglass on the coffee table and stood up. “You’ve misunderstood me. This has nothing to do with…” Her voice faded, then she said, “I, um, I’m just really tired right now. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” he said, standing now, too.

  He did his best to hide the very obvious rejection he felt, and the confusion swamping him at the abrupt change in her behavior.

  Why shouldn’t he be confused? She’d encouraged his advances, his tender looks, with silent messages of her own throughout the day. And now here she was shoving him away. Maybe not physically, but with words. With excuses. With more lies.

  But the fantasy had gone on for far too long. Greg had become important to her. And she was almost certain she’d become important to him, too. Now both of them would be hurt. Her revelation would bring them both terrible pain.

  “But before you slip away from me—”

  Immediately, it became abundantly clear that he wasn’t yet ready to give up as he reached out to her then, slid his warm, strong fingers over her forearm, and Jane thought for sure she’d melt right where she stood.

  “—I need you to know something,” he continued. “It’s important. I want to tell you that I’ve…well, that I’ve come to admire you. And not just because you’ve been such a good nanny for Joy. It’s more than that. Much more. It’s…personal. Now that I’ve gotten to know you—” His thought seemed to stumble and break, haltingly. Finally, he inhaled deeply. “I just want you to know that you’ve come to mean something to me. Something very important.”

  Jane’s breath left her. She had to think this over, had to tell him the truth—but how?

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said firmly, wanting—needing—to get away from him. Now. “I promise.” Then she bid him good-night, turned around and left him standing alone by the dying embers.

  She’d barely closed her bedroom door when she heard the front doorbell ring.

  Chapter Nine

  It was obvious to Greg from the moment he opened the front door that Pricilla was a bit tipsy.

  Instantly, he found himself shaking his head at the overly diplomatic evaluation. The woman was drunk. His daughter’s mother grasped the doorjamb as if the world was tipping off its axis.

  “Where is she?” Pricilla demanded, slurring together the last two words of her question. She seemed to want to come into the apartment, but her whole body wavered. In the end, her grip on the door frame tightened and she remained at the threshold.

  Greg frowned. “It’s after ten. She’s right where she should be. In bed.”

  How could he ever have found this woman attractive? he wondered.

  Before this moment, the few memories of the time he’d spent with Pricilla had been hazy. But seeing her in this state helped him to recall the past with more clarity.

  Pricilla had been lots of fun to be around at first. She’d been full of humorous stories that had made him laugh. He’d even found her self-centeredness entertaining. During their second date they had slept together. Sleeping with a woman after only two dates wasn’t a normal occurrence for Greg. In fact, it was against his dating rules. It was one rule he was sorry he’d broken, for, after that night, things changed. She’d changed. Her vainglorious attitude, which he’d found cute and entertaining before, altered to a demanding and temperamental disposition that soon repulsed him. And during their third date, she’d also switched from merely sipping wine to gulping straight liquor. Whisky. No ice.

  Alcohol had made Pricilla loud and…coarse, he remembered. And by the end of the evening, Greg had known he wouldn’t be interested in seeing her again.

  Looking at this woman, he couldn’t help but recognize the miracle he’d been blessed with in Jane. Her blue-gray eyes might not be as flashy as Pricilla’s, her soft, honey-hued hair might not be as stylish, either, but flash and style were only skin deep. Through Jane, he’d learned that there was much more to a woman’s beauty than outside appearance. A lot more. Not that his Jane wasn’t beautiful. He dreamed about kissing her luscious lips, roving his fingers over the delicate planes and angles of her lovely face.

  Furthermore, he suddenly realized, he’d only been attracted to that shallow sort of flashiness when he’d still been ignorant about what a real relationship with a woman could mean.

  And that’s what he thought he and Jane had been developing—a real relationship. One that, he hoped, would grow into something closer, more intimate. But exploring that would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, he had to deal with the unexpected appearance of his baby’s mother.

  Evidently, Pricilla sensed disapproval in his tone, his expression. She paused. And slowly straightened. She took a deep breath. With her free hand, she smoothed back the slight disarray of her elaborately coiffed hair. Tipped up her chin. Moistened her lips, then ran her index finger along the outside rim of her bottom lip as though removing an imaginary smear of lipstick. All of her movements were slow, as though she were moving through air that was viscous and thick.

  Then she smiled.

  A big smile. Bright. Bold.

  “Maybe I should start over,” she said, her tone now hovering somewhere between friendly and sultry. “Maybe I should first wish you a happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Same to you, Pricilla.”

  Her mouth quirked up at one corner in a saucy grin. “Oh, I’ve had a very happy day. And it’s only going to get happier, I’m sure.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper, seemingly meant to make him privy to some sexy secret or other.

  “See…I have a gentleman waiting for me out in the parking lot. He drove me into the city in his candy-apple-red Beamer. Lusc
ious car.” Her tongue darted out to touch the apex of her top lip. “Luscious man.”

  Greg knew the root cause of Pricilla’s absurd behavior was the abundance of alcohol she’d obviously consumed before arriving on his doorstep, but that didn’t stop him from finding her conduct rude and intrusive. She had no right showing up at his home demanding to see her daughter when she was in such a state.

  “And as soon as I get a chance to talk to her,” she continued, “I plan to focus all my attention on that luscious man waiting down there for me.” Her delicately arched brows waggled suggestively.

  Obviously, she wanted Greg to feel as if he would be missing out on something most exciting. But all he felt was disdain. And pity.

  He guessed he should have expected her appearance. It was a holiday. Wasn’t it normal for any mother to want to see her child on Thanksgiving? Even a mother as seemingly unthinking enough to show up for a visit past a child’s bedtime, not to mention showing up in her intoxicated condition.

  That thought gave rise to yet another: would the woman be appearing, drunk and on the verge of disorderly, on every special occasion? There were so many of them: Christmas, New Year’s, Joy’s birthday, Valentine’s Day…at this instant, the list of yearly celebrations seemed endless to him.

  He couldn’t help but think he would be setting a precedent for years to come in his reaction to Pricilla tonight. Should he be kind and welcoming, forgiving the fact that she looked and smelled as if she’d fallen into a vat of one-hundred-proof vodka? Or should he put his foot down right now? Let her know in no uncertain terms that his home was not to be used for her drunken theatrics? That she should not show up here again unless she called first? And even then, only if she was clearheaded?

  But who was he to tell Pricilla that she couldn’t see her daughter on holidays? Or any other day, for that matter? Would he like being kept away from his baby girl?

  A surprising sea of sorrow washed over him at the mere thought. No grinning gurgles. No wet, smacking kisses. No pats on the cheek. No sleepy sighs. No tiny face pressed against his shoulder in slumber.

  He actually gave his head a tiny shake back and forth. He couldn’t imagine a day going by without seeing Joy, without loving her, without experiencing life through her innocent eyes. He may have only had her in his home for a month, but he couldn’t conceive of life without her. Such an existence would be empty. Worthless.

  So with those thoughts running through his head, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Pricilla not to come to his home, not to visit her daughter.

  But above all else, a stern, paternal voice echoed in his brain, loud, adamant, refusing to be ignored, Joy must be protected.

  He had no idea where the voice had come from, and upon hearing it he actually gave a jerky start and blinked. He hadn’t even realized he’d become so sheltering of his baby girl.

  It was then that he was walloped with a realization. It seemed that somewhere along the road he’d become a father. A real, honest-to-goodness daddy who only wanted what was best for his daughter. To hell with what might be best for anyone else. And that included his little girl’s mother.

  At that moment, Pricilla looked over his shoulder and made a move to enter his home. A protective instinct reared up inside Greg, the likes of which he’d never before experienced. He stepped in front of her, blocking her access.

  “Look, Pricilla,” he said, leveling a gaze at her dead square in the eyes, “I think what you should do is turn around and go on down there to your friend. You can come back tomorrow. When you’re sober. You’ll be welcome then.”

  Her pretty blue eyes narrowed the slightest bit and her chin tucked down defensively.

  “Well, what you think and what I think are two different things, now, aren’t they?” she said softly, challenge clear and unmistakable. “I’m coming in to see her. I know she’s here. I have a few things I want to say. Then I’ll be on my way.” Again, she repeated, “I know she’s here.”

  Her words seemed to make no sense. “I’m not disputing that. Of course, Joy is here. You left her here with me, remember?”

  Impatience marred the woman’s features with sharp angles and deep furrows. “I’m not talking about the kid—”

  “Wait!”

  Jane’s sharp tone propelled Greg into a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree pivot. The panic written on Jane’s face made his heart hitch in his chest. She was obviously afraid of the inebriated stranger who had shown up at the front door in the dead of night.

  Meaning to reassure her, he lifted his hand, palm out…but then he noticed she wasn’t looking at him. Her attention was focused on Pricilla.

  “Don’t!” Jane said. “Please, don’t do this. He doesn’t know.”

  Greg frowned. Doesn’t know? Doesn’t know what? What was she talking about?

  His confusion was so thorough, his vigilant guard lowered. He was no longer blocking the door as securely as he had been and Pricilla pushed her way past him.

  “I’m talking about her,” Pricilla said, pointing in Jane’s direction, continuing to address Greg. “My pushy—” she shoved her finger toward Jane on the emphasized syllable of each forcefully and expressively spoken word “—overbearing, domineering sister.”

  Time seemed to slow to half speed for Greg. Surreal. Unreal. A dream. A nightmare.

  Words and thoughts floated in and out of his mind, incomplete and out-of-joint, as he stared in total disbelief at the two women facing off in his living room.

  “You are a real piece of work.”

  Pricilla plunked her lacquered-nailed hands on her hips as she spoke. The blood-red polish on her fingertips stood out against the cream-colored silk she wore. Strange, Greg thought, for him to notice the stark contrast of color at a time like this. When he should be asking questions. Getting to the bottom of this disconcerting mess.

  “You move out of our apartment,” Pricilla continued to rant at Jane, “leaving no forwarding address. How rude you are. I’d still be looking for you if Max hadn’t been working today.”

  Max. Greg wondered why that name should sound so familiar to him. The answer seemed to hover, fuzzy, just out of reach at the edges of his brain.

  “You walked out on your job,” the blonde accused Jane. She wobbled slightly on her high-heeled shoes. “You left Max in an awful lurch.”

  Finally, Jane spoke. “I left to look for you. And Joy. I waited for a week, Pricilla. I agonized for a week, not knowing where you’d taken the baby—”

  “She’s my baby,” Pricilla interrupted viciously.

  Greg watched as one strand of her hair, the very strand she’d pushed back at the door, now fell into her eyes unheeded.

  “She was my baby to do with as I pleased.” A derisive, snorting sound erupted from Pricilla. “The little runt nearly ruined my life. You nearly ruined my life, Jane. Dirty diapers and canned formula and crying babies. Dumping that kid here was the best thing I ever did for myself.”

  Quietly, Jane said, “Well, we both know you’re good at that.”

  Pricilla glared at Jane.

  “You always do what’s best for you. You always have. Regardless of the needs or wants of anyone else.”

  “Who better to watch out for than yourself?”

  Greg saw sadness creep over Jane’s delicate features, and then after a moment she said, “Mother’s famous last words.”

  The blonde tossed out another bold and overly bright smile. “I learned from the best.”

  This statement only seemed to exacerbate Jane’s disappointment.

  “I had hoped,” Jane said, “that over the years you’d have learned a little something from me.”

  “Oh, yes.” Pricilla’s eyes went wide, her tone becoming, melodramatic. “Let’s learn from Ms. Sacrifice herself. Let’s drop out of college. Let’s get a job that has long hours and low pay. Let’s survive as one big, happy family.”

  “We were a happy family.” Jane worried the back of one thumb with the pad of the other, her agitati
on apparent. “And we were surviving just fine.”

  “You might have been happy,” Pricilla charged, “but I have never been one to tolerate merely surviving. I need fun. I need abundance. I need money.”

  “You need men.”

  Pricilla grinned. “Them, too.”

  Joy’s mother seemed unhurt by the sting Jane had thrown. Greg knew he should step in, that he should break up this conversation before it escalated into something really ugly. He could clearly see that’s where this was headed. But he was still too shocked to speak.

  Jane knew Pricilla. But could she really be Pricilla’s sister? The notion was mind-boggling, and he was sure that all the implications of this bombshell still hadn’t revealed themselves to him.

  The lies Jane had told him flitted and danced around in his mind.

  But he didn’t feel angry. All he felt was…oddly detached.

  “I can see you’re disappointed in me, dear sister,” Pricilla said. “Don’t you think I’ve always known that you find me one big disappointment?”

  Her tone took on the quality of a purring cat as she continued, “Why is it, Jane, that you never figured out why you couldn’t get me to conform to your rules and regulations, to your high moral standards?”

  The room was still as Pricilla’s taunting question hung heavy in the air.

  Pricilla said, “Let me answer that for you.” Her brow furrowed with an ugly frown. “Because I never cared what you thought or how you felt about me. That’s why. I wanted what I wanted. And I was—and still am—determined to get it. Any way I can.”

  “I provided for you,” Jane quietly pointed out.

  “You didn’t provide enough.” Pricilla reached up and shoved the lock of hair from her face. “It takes time and energy to get what I want from the men I date. I just can’t be saddled with a kid. Why could you never understand that?”

  “Well then, why didn’t you just leave Joy with me?”

  It was the first time Jane had raised her voice. Automatically, Greg found himself inching toward her, guided by some strange need…some mysterious urge. Her eyes welled with tears, and her face crumpled with emotion. He stopped several feet from her, an invisible, impenetrable wall seeming to separate them.