The Playboy Prince and the Nanny

by Donna Alward

  Rose was true to her word about dessert first, and they ordered churros to start. A basket of them came and Rose dutifully munched on one and found it delicious . . . and addictive. Max looked at her as if to say “I told you so,” while Emilia licked all the cinnamon off her crispy piece before eating the pastry.

  They ordered lunch and talked about their plans for the afternoon while they were waiting. Once Rose saw, with some alarm, that a woman with a camera was angling along a wall for a picture. The man who’d shown them to their table, however, stepped forward and guided her back to her table. Diego acted as if nothing had happened, but Rose frowned. She’d never had to deal with any sort of celebrity attention before.

  The food arrived and the rich, spicy scent of her paella—ordered on Diego’s recommendation—made her stomach growl. Emilia giggled, Rose rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed. Max’s eyes bulged at the size of his bocadillo, which Diego explained was a sandwich made with specially cured ham. Since Max tended to head straight for the meat at any teatime or meal, she wasn’t surprised by his choice. Emilia, on the other hand, had what appeared to be a potato and egg omelet.

  “Tortilla Española, Miss Rose. My favorite.” Her ponytail bobbed as she reached for her napkin and spread it gently on her lap. She was a six-year-old girl but also a princess. There was no forgetting it, even in a little taverna.

  Diego’s meal seemed somewhat lighter than she’d expected. It looked like some sort of vegetable combination, with a fried egg on the top of it. “What’s that?”

  “Pisto,” he replied. “Roasted vegetables. Kind of like a, what’s the dish . . .” He frowned. “Like the one that has eggplant in it.”

  “Ratatouille?”

  He nodded. “That’s it. Only no eggplant.”

  Next to it, her bowl of paella looked huge—and rich.

  They dug in and she was delighted as flavors burst over her tongue. Rice, saffron, vegetables, gorgeous shrimp, and spicy chorizo. There was no way she’d be able to finish it all. “Pardon my manners,” she said lightly, “but would anyone like some? There’s too much for just me.”

  The children stared at her for a moment. Clearly this was not a done thing at the dinner table.

  “Max,” she said, “would you like to try a bite of the sausage?”

  He nodded. Carnivore all the way, that one. In return, he offered her a sliver of the ham from his sandwich. She’d never tasted anything like it. Dry-cured was very different than what she was used to.

  Then Emilia insisted she try some of her tortilla and a narrow slice of it made it across the table. By the time she’d tested everyone’s choices, she was stuffed, but loving all the different flavors. More than that, she’d enjoyed the whole meal, being with the three of them and knowing they were relaxed and happy.

  “Dessert?” Diego asked, but she patted her belly and shook her head.

  “That’s what the churros were for,” she said. “I couldn’t eat another bite. That was delicious.”

  Diego nodded at someone and a few minutes later he leaned over. “We’re fine to leave now.”

  They made their way back out into the sunshine. It wasn’t far to the market; the taverna was just off the main square. “It’s busy in here,” Diego said, his voice firm. “Max, you need to take my hand, and Emilia, you take Miss Rose’s. We don’t want anyone getting separated, do we?”

  Emilia slipped her hand into Rose’s, then looked up and smiled. Rose smiled back, feeling her heart catch. Emilia was so trusting. Since the first day when she’d taken Rose through the gardens, she’d abandoned her resentful attitude. She’d been hurt, but Rose could see she simply wanted love and affection. Well, Rose had both of those in abundance. She squeezed Emilia’s hand lightly, reassuring her.

  Max, on the other hand, was tugging at Diego’s arm. In no time flat he’d pulled them over to a clothing vendor where football shirts were for sale.

  “How does he do that?” Rose leaned over and spoke in Diego’s ear, quite loudly to be heard over the shopping bustle. “He’s only three feet tall!”

  “We’ve been here a time or two. He has a good memory, I guess.” Already Max was pointing at a red and black jersey that was about six sizes too big.

  The vendor clearly remembered them, too. “Ah, Your Highness,” he said, bowing quickly. “And the young Prince Max. How may I help you today?”

  They dithered over shirts, and Rose hid a smile as Max, in all his four-year-old authority, haggled with the vendor while having no idea about the numbers he was saying. But the vendor went along with him, frowning and thoughtfully bargaining until he threw up his hands at an agreed price. Diego took bills out of his wallet, and Rose noticed that it was for the original price listed on the sign. Diego winked at the vendor, took the shirt, and grinned widely as Max shook the vendor’s hand at a bargain well struck.

  Since they were at the clothing stalls, Emilia found a pretty skirt and then a little purse among the leather goods, as fine as Rose had ever seen. Rose looked longingly at a soft-as-butter handbag, but decided not to spend the money today. There would be other days. Today was for the children to enjoy.

  But then there was a stall with the most stunning silver jewelry. Accented with gemstones and mother-of-pearl, the display glittered and she couldn’t stop herself from going to look.

  “Oh, this is gorgeous,” she said, sparing a glance at Emilia. “Don’t you think?”

  Emilia nodded, and pointed at a particularly lovely bracelet. It was about half an inch wide, solid silver with little pale pink stones inlaid in a pretty leaf pattern. “How much?” Rose asked.

  The vendor named a number of euros that made Rose blink. “Oh.”

  Emilia, who’d been rather quiet during the purchase of her skirt, stepped up to the stall table. “No, nononono,” she said, making it sound like all one word. She let go of Rose’s hand and wagged a finger at him, and then let loose with a flurry of Spanish that had Rose gaping.

  The vendor stood back, raised his eyebrows, and then to Rose’s surprise, came back with what she thought was another offer. And back and forth they went, while Rose felt both abashed and fiercely proud that the girl was holding her own. Thank goodness the vendor didn’t know who he was haggling with.

  Emilia looked up at Rose with triumph in her dark eyes, and gave the vendor’s final offer. There was no way Rose could turn it down now, not after all of Emilia’s hard work. She began to reach for her pocket book when a large hand came to rest on her shoulder.

  “Allow me,” Diego said, reaching for his wallet once again.

  The look on the vendor’s face was utterly priceless. Shock, embarrassment, confusion . . . Diego handed over the negotiated amount and the vendor handed her the bracelet. Then he plucked a small pair of earrings from the display and handed them to Emilia. He said something to her and she smiled and thanked him. Rose looked at Diego, and his face was full of pride.

  Max was getting tired, so they only went a few steps from the vendor and then Diego hefted the boy on to his shoulders. “What did that man say to Emilia?” she asked, back to holding Emilia’s hand again.

  “He said she drove a hard bargain and she was going to make a great queen someday.”

  “Oh, that’s lovely.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “You could have knocked him over with a feather when he realized who we were.”

  Diego laughed. “It’s nice that he didn’t at first. And by the way, you have great taste. The bracelet is beautiful.”

  “Em picked it out. And thank you for buying it for me.”

  “It’s my pleasure. The children are very happy with you, Rose. It means a lot to know that.”

  She smiled up at him, and he smiled back.

  They made a stop for a small ice cream, at Max’s request. When they were done, they began making their way to the car. Rose had gotten accustomed to seeing their security now, and felt both secure and strange about being watched so closely. A little girl started
straight toward them, and one of the guards stepped forward, but Diego shook his head. The girl couldn’t be more than seven or eight, just a little older than Emilia. She carried a basket with red carnations.

  Diego waved off the security.

  When the girl was within a few feet, he squatted down so he was closer to her height. “Hola, chiquita.”

  She curtsied and then stood and greeted him in return. Rose could barely hear what they said, but she caught him asking the girl’s name. She missed the reply, but Diego immediately introduced Max and Emilia. The darling curtsied to both. Lord, she was adorable.

  But it went beyond adorable into heartstrings territory when she took out two carnations and gave one to each of the children. She said something in Spanish—again, Rose was frustrated at not being fluent enough to keep up. Emilia answered back, and Max’s face was dead sober. They spoke for another few moments, and she did catch Emilia saying “Thank you very much.”

  Rose looked at Diego, questioning. But any words she might have said died on her lips. His eyes were full of tears. He looked away and cleared his throat, then turned back with a smile.

  “Well, here we are, nearly to the car. What a day! Did everyone have fun?”

  The children nodded, but their earlier exuberance was gone. Rose was perplexed.

  Max fell asleep on the drive home, his carnation clutched in his hand. Emilia was exhausted as well, so she decided to spend the remainder of the afternoon on her bed with a pile of storybooks. Rose gave it fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before Emilia would snuggle down with one of her stuffed animals and be asleep too.

  Diego had helped her with the children, carrying Max upstairs, so she went to the little kitchenette in the suite that she used for snacks and teatime and heated a kettle for making coffee. “Would you like one?”

  He shrugged. “I’d prefer a glass of wine.”

  She laughed. “None here, I’m afraid. I’m on duty.”

  “Right. Well, coffee will do.”

  She was fairly handy with the press, and before long the fresh brew was in cups and she added her customary milk and sugar. Diego frowned. “Really? It’s not even coffee after you do that.”

  She took a sip and smacked her lips, mocking, and finally coaxed a smile from him.

  They sat down on the sofa, at either end as was appropriate. Rose let out a long breath, starting to wind down from the busy day. “So,” she said quietly, “do you want to tell me what happened with the carnations?” The flowers were now trimmed and in a tiny vase one of the maids had brought up, and were sitting on the table where the children did their lessons.

  “She was sweet, wasn’t she?”

  “I couldn’t follow the conversation. It was too fast and there were too many other voices around.”

  He took a drink of his coffee before replying. “She gave each of them a flower, and said that she and her mother were very sorry about their mother. That was all. Just an expression of sympathy. But it was . . . I don’t know. She was a stranger but it meant something to them, couldn’t you tell?”

  “Maybe because it was from someone their own age,” Rose suggested. “Or because adults tend to give each other platitudes and don’t know what to say to children.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to not bring it up.” Diego slumped into the cushions. “It always upsets them.”

  Rose could understand his feelings, but she shook her head. “Maybe, but if I were a child who’d lost a parent, I’d want to feel free to talk about them. So they wouldn’t be forgotten. Expressing grief is important. Feeling like you can have happy memories without upsetting other people helps, too.”

  “How do you know so much?” he asked. She looked over at him and tried to stay detached, not get caught in his gaze. He was so completely open. It was a surprise, considering what she’d thought she knew of him.

  “It’s not from personal experience,” she replied. “I just . . . I don’t know. I’ve always tried to put myself in other people’s shoes and empathize with them. How would I feel in their situation? It’s served me well at times, but it can be a bit burdensome.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She swallowed against a lump forming in her throat. “When you put yourself in the position of someone else, even if it’s just imagined, you take on their feelings, too. And their pain. And you’d do anything to make it better.”

  She looked down into her coffee cup and blinked. She’d never really admitted that to anyone before. Apparently they both tended to let down their guard with each other. And that tendency to want to fix things was the very reason why her relationship with her sister was strained. She helped, but she hadn’t given Hayley what she’d really wanted. Rose had put her foot down and Hayley saw that as tantamount to a betrayal.

  “I’ve always been an ostrich,” Diego admitted. “I pretend it’s not happening. I go on another trip or visit friends or whatever.”

  “Why, do you suppose?”

  He thought for several seconds. “I suppose because someone’s always looked after things for me so I haven’t had to deal with them at all.”

  “Like when your mother died?”

  Silence settled over the room, intimate and slightly uncomfortable. “Wow,” he whispered.

  “You’re so attentive to the kids. Is it because you want to help them through what you already went through?”

  “Of course it is.” His voice was sharp and his brow furrowed. She’d struck a nerve.

  “But Diego, you can’t go through their grief for them. You should know that, especially if someone did that for you. Were you allowed to grieve for your mum?”

  He looked away. “Damn, Rose . . .”

  She put down her coffee and slid over on the sofa. It was probably not the best idea, but he was in pain. She could sense it and knew she should stop questioning him. He was a prince, for heaven’s sake. And right now as much her boss as Raoul. But she slid over anyway. “You know what they’re going through. And I think you’re going through it again, maybe finally dealing with what you had to shutter away when you were little. I’m sorry, Diego. I’m sorry about Cecilia and Mariana, and I’m sorry about your mum. It’s okay for you to feel loss too, you know.”

  His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He put his cup down too and put his hands on his knees. Rose simply waited. It had been a bold suggestion on her part. Very possibly treading into insubordinate territory. For some reason they were becoming friends, even though they shouldn’t.

  “I get frustrated,” he admitted finally. “I was so small I couldn’t see what Raoul and father were doing. I know they were trying to protect me, but I ended up so spoiled. So . . . unequipped to deal with stuff. It got better when I went to England to study, you know. My best friend decked me my first day at polo club and it was something I needed desperately. Never upset an Irishman who’s bigger than you.”

  She chuckled. She could picture it.

  “Then I came back and I wanted to roll up my sleeves and help and I just . . . wasn’t needed. I know what they say about me. I know what Raoul and Father think, but they don’t help me change it. So I look after the stables and I run charities.”

  “Those are important things.”

  “I know they are. But put me anywhere near state business? I’m kept strictly hands off. They have no idea how capable I am, because they don’t want to see it. Anytime I try to talk to them about it . . .”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s like they just give me another toy. Send me on another public appearance. The same way they did anytime I asked about Mother or cried.”

  He looked over at her. “Okay, this is getting out of hand. I must sound like an idiot. Forget it.”

  She put her hand on his knee. “They tried to distract you,” she said, “so they wouldn’t have to deal with your grief, and theirs too. And you got cheated.”

  Diego laid his hand over hers. “I’m a prince. How can I possibly be cheated out of anything?”
<
br />   “Because you’re human, first and foremost. Maybe being a prince makes it even harder. Different rules apply.”

  She would not turn her hand over. She would not link her fingers with his, no matter how badly she wanted to.

  But his thumb rubbed along the side of her hand, sending delicious tremors through her stomach. She needed to set boundaries like she had that night in the garden. She needed to remember that she was the nanny. They were not equals . . .

  Except she’d just put them on a level playing field with her last sentence. They were both human, with feelings and needs and . . .

  “Why,” he murmured, “do I find it so easy to open up to you?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “We shouldn’t. It’s not proper . . .”

  “I have never been, nor am I likely ever to be, proper,” he answered, and he did what she could not. He turned her hand over and twined his fingers with hers.

  The tremors became full-on quaking as the tension shimmered between them. He was looking at her now, and she couldn’t look away from the intensity in his eyes. She caught her lip in her teeth as her nervousness peaked, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Oh, she thought to herself. Oh please. Don’t . . . but please do.

  “Rosalie,” he whispered, her full name sounding like music on his lips.

  He leaned closer, and she drifted in, unable to stop herself. Just one, she thought. Just one kiss. So I know what it’s like.

  His lips were warm, soft, beguiling. Rose’s heart slammed against her ribs at the first contact, her breath squeezed in her lungs as she kissed him back, lightly, softly. As kisses went it was tentative, shy, sweet. And utterly, utterly devastating. Not what she would have expected from a playboy like Diego Navarro. It was better. Much, much better.

  He shifted on the sofa, still holding her hand but moving closer. The kiss deepened, too, as anticipation waned and excitement took over. Gentle persuasion had her opening her lips, and the kiss blossomed until their breath came faster and Rose’s whole body felt sensitive to the smallest touch and sound.

  “Rose, he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You’re so sweet. So . . .”