“You must miss her.” His hand came and covered hers.
Her throat was clogged with tears and she gratefully accepted the glass of water he handed her. “I adored her. She understood me. Caring for her wasn’t a chore.” She paused. “It gave me a break from home.”
“You weren’t happy?”
“Not at all. But I’ve always been the go-to person.” she confessed with a loud sigh. Tilly who organised the annual church fete, baked cakes, ran the Sunday school program and cooked.
“Go-to?” His brow lifted.
She loved her family, fiercely. But there was something about being so efficient and the inability to say no. She helped out all the time and she would be lying to say she did not enjoy it, but there were times it would have been good not to be so dependable. “I’ve been the organiser of the family for years, baked biscuits, helped out—”
His brow arched. “But you became a carer?”
“That was different. My grandmother relied on me but it wasn’t hard. I’d drive her to her friends and while they played cards, I read.” A smile tugged at her lips thinking about those hours happily spent sprawled on a couch reading as the ladies chatted.
Two tiny lines creased the skin between his eyebrows. “Why didn’t your parents do it?”
“Gran was my mum’s mum and she was so busy helping Dad with his work that I volunteered.” She may not have had the time to study or travel, like her friends, but she had quality time with her Gran discussing the family’s history and her fiercely guarded handed-down recipes.
He nodded in reply. “Is that why you travelled?” He cleared his throat. “After she passed?”
The breath caught in her throat. Still quite unable to believe her Gran was no longer with them. “My mum encouraged me, thinking it would be good for me to see the world.” She made quotation marks in the air over the words ‘see the world’. “Most of my friends have travelled or studied and I didn’t get a chance because…” She pressed her lips together before taking a reassuring breath. “Coming here has been fantastic.” The travelling and sightseeing had been fantastic. Despite the chaos that Sebastian had brought to her life, she was still grateful for the opportunity to have lived in London and to now spend time with her aunt in Jerusalem.
“What’s the best thing that you’ve seen?” The endearing look he gave made her heart skip a beat. How was it possible that a gaze from his blue eyes could have such an effect on her?
If she had been sassier, she would have said perving on him, but instead demurely folded her hands in her lap. “I love history. Being here is amazing – everything is so old. I’d love to visit Jaffa. Do you know it’s the oldest, working port in the world? Five thousand years old.” She could not help the excitement creep into her voice. The Middle East was full of interesting sites and she hoped to spend more time visiting and learning.
The waiter interrupted her rapture with a large plate of hors d’oeuvres. He pointed to each of the small dishes, “Eggplant, tehina, hummus, mushrooms and pita.”
“Toda raba.” The thank you slipped from her lips as she gave the waiter a quick smile. Turning to her date she said, “Thanks for this.” Her hand gestured to the food.
“You’re welcome.”
She grabbed a large piece of pita and dipped it into the thick chickpea spread before taking a large bite. A tiny dollop slipped off the bread and she swiped it from her lip using her forefinger before licking it. Looking up, she found Nate staring at her. His bluer than blue eyes wide open, as though surprised.
Immobile, she stared as his hand came towards her. His fingers grazed along her mouth evoking a trail of wishful longing.
“You have, uh, a smudge.” The rough skin on his thumb brushed along the sensitive skin of her bottom lip before retracting and licking his finger pad.
With frozen lungs and her skin’s nerve endings crying out, begging for his touch, her vocal cords were twisted and tied up. “I-I…”
“Od yayin. More wine.” The waiter placed two full glasses on the table.
“Thank you.” Nate gave the intruding waiter a stare that would have frozen the warm Dead Sea waters. The waiter quickly retracted.
Nate speared a couple of fat mushrooms onto his fork. “So Tilly from Australia, what are your plans? Where else will you visit?”
“I’m from a country town. But I want to see everything, Tiberius, Eilat, Tel Aviv and of course, Jaffa.” She rattled off as many places as she could think of. For the time being, she was hiding out in Jerusalem but she really hoped to see more of this interesting country before she had to return home. “What about you? You mentioned you travelled to Asia and Australia.”
An apprehensive look zipped across his face. But two seconds later, his face relaxed as he leaned in his chair, his long legs crossed and stretched out to the side of their table.
“When I was young, all I wanted to do was travel, to get away.” The controlled tone of his voice slipped slightly during his off-hand manner.
“Tell me about it.” She kept her voice low, hoping not to sound too inquisitive. She ate all the pita with hummus before devouring almost everything else. Nate on the other hand, she noticed, had barely eaten a thing.
His eyebrows furrowed together, “It’s not pretty.”
“Tell me.” Her heart skidded to a halt as his face darkened and he looked away. Seconds passed slowly and Tilly stopped eating as she waited for him to snap out of his thoughts. Painful ones, judging by the strained tightness around his jaw. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap as she mentally worked through some comforting words.
Then suddenly he turned around, his gaze focussed on her. “Let’s not spoil our time together.”
Her shoulders sagged at the pain in his eyes. Having grown up in a loving, family home, she could barely understand how parents did not love and care for their children. Despite Sebastian’s flaws and there were certainly many of them, he had still shown love to his kids. But Nate. How had he dealt with such an awful upbringing? She clamped her lips shut, waiting for an appropriate time to ask.
“My foster dad ensured I finished my education.”
“Did you go to university?” She asked.
He nodded in reply but did not say what he had studied. She made a mental note to ask him about it later.
Their gazes collided. Tilly’s breath caught in her throat. Those intense blue eyes unnerved her. Flutters of nerves made their way to her neck.
“I worked two jobs to save up to travel. It was worth it,” he volunteered. “I loved seeing different places, trying new foods,” he admitted. “I’d lived in London all my life and didn’t even have a passport.” He stopped, rubbing his jaw, absentmindedly as though a memory bothered him.
Tilly asked, “So what was your favourite place you visited?”
“Sydney. I loved the beach at Bondi.” His smile held genuine warmth. “Many times I walked from Bondi to Coogee along the coastal route.”
Tilly nodded in agreement. “I’ve done that. The view’s breathtaking.”
Nate sat forward in his chair, plucked the solitary mushroom she had left on the plate. He chewed slowly then asked, “And where have you been so far? Besides here, of course.”
Her brain zipped through some suitable replies. The only way to survive had been to lie or extend the truth. She chose the most favourable one. “Actually, London, in Earl’s Court.” Tilly named an area popular with Australian and New Zealand travellers. She had stayed there for all of one day, when initially arriving in London. Live-in accommodation, in the Porter’s home, had been part of her employment package.
He sipped his wine. “Are you planning on working or just holidaying?”
I don’t know. All I know is I never want to go to London, ever.
To inject confidence, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m enjoying travelling at the moment. And you? What do you do, besides saving women from falling into mud?”
“I’m a geek who likes to write.”
No way! Geeks wore thick glasses, long socks with sandals and had pens in their pockets. They were definitely not built like an endurance swimmer with defined abs and toned limbs. “Seriously, what do you do?”
He raised his eyebrow as his lips quirked into a smile. “I’ve written a book. It sold quite well.”
A writer? Her heart rate picked up. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
God, he was gorgeous. She still could not believe she was on a date with someone so charming.
Perhaps her luck had done a u-turn? Hope pulsated through her veins. “So, what was the book…?”
“Nate!” A female voice called, interrupting her question. Darn it.
Nate looked up. A mixture of frustration and joy washed over his face. “My sister, Beatrice.” He stood.
A young woman, in a soft skirt and wrap around blouse, bounded over. She appeared a similar age to her own twenty-five years and Tilly fidgeted with her serviette, annoyed at the intrusion but curious to meet Nate’s sister.
Beatrice gave her brother a quick peck on the cheek. “Sorry to disturb, but I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Bea, you’re a terrible liar.” He playfully twisted her arm behind her back. “Admit that you wanted to know who I was meeting?”
She laughed. “Stop it.”
He twisted harder but Tilly could see it was all in jest, her heart warming as she remembered her brothers doing a similar thing to her.
“Okay, okay. I was curious.” He released her arm and she spun around to face him. “So sue me.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?” He stood in front of Bea, blocking her view to Tilly.
“No, I want to meet your date,” she pushed her brother out of the way. Her jaw dropped and her mouth formed a large O. “Oh my goodness!” She pointed at Tilly, “You’re the nanny who had an affair, the one with Sebastian Porter. While his wife was going through cancer treatment!”
CHAPTER THREE
Recognised! Tilly’s stomach fell to her knees as blood froze in her veins. If only an alien portal would transport her to a distant universe.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Bea’s excited voice raised an octave or three. “Who’d have guessed you’d be hiding out in Israel of all places?” Bea cocked a hip to the side before flicking her hair over her shoulder.
Tilly shook her head. “No, you’re mistaken.” The canapés in her belly turned to a solid block of indigestible matter. If only she had stayed in the safety of Jerusalem with her aunt.
Nate stepped forward blocking Bea’s view, of Tilly, with his body. “Bea, you’ve made a mistake.” He paused. “I’m with Summer.”
The reprieve gave her time to gulp down some air and remind her lungs to start functioning again. He had ticked all the boxes and now he ticked another one. Ability to think quickly. She liked that.
“She looks like the nanny on the news.” Bea’s head poked over his shoulder to have another peek at her.
Nate placed his arm around his sister’s waist, so they stood next to each other facing Tilly. “Summer, this is my sister, Bea. Bea, this is,” he paused, “Summer.”
Tilly gave Bea a tight smile. “Nice to meet you.” Not.
“Summer’s from New Zealand and bears a striking resemblance to her.”
Nate continued with the story and her chest tightened. He knew who she was. As soon as she could, she was leaving.
“In fact, I was just recommending she avoid London for the time being in case she’s mistaken for that Australian,” he stopped and made a show of scratching his chin, “what’s-her-name?”
“Tilly,” his sister clarified with a triumphant smile.
“Oh yes, that’s right.” He looked at his watch. “Don’t you have someone to meet?”
Bea gave her brother an icy stare. “You want me to leave?”
“I didn’t say that.” He paused as his eyebrow cocked skyward. “Don’t you think you should get ready for your dinner with Nigel?”
Breathing became difficult. Her lungs constricted as though giant rubber bands were wrapped around them. She had to escape. Leave. Run. Hide.
The quiet life she had created over the past week had been turned upside down again. On shaky legs, Tilly stood.
“Nate, it was lovely to meet you but I’ve got to go,” she declared with such sincerity that she almost convinced herself. “My bus leaves soon.” She looked at her watch. “Goodness, it’s so late.”
Nate’s fingers went to grasp her arm but she shifted her body effectively, meaning he ended up grabbing air. “But-I-”
“They run once an hour and I don’t want to miss it.” Tilly plastered the brightest smile she could across her face. “Thank you for the drink. It was really nice.”
Nodding politely at Bea, she turned and walked away on wobbly legs. She quashed the pounding need, pulsating through her body, to run.
Act normal.
Act normal.
Heading towards reception, she had to find a taxi, camel, bike, anything to expedite her flight from the resort.
Facing the concierge she insisted, “I need a taxi. Now.” Her breathing came in uneven, short bursts as her heart thumped hard from her predicament.
“I need to get to the hostel at Masada. It’s an emergency.” Her voice rose a couple of notches and her vision swam.
“They can’t get through.” The concierge’s calm voice replied, as though emergency get-aways were regularly asked questions. “There’s been a big accident on the road. There are others ahead of you in the queue.” His hand gestured to a large group talking in a noisy fashion beside the indoor water feature.
A quick count estimated there to be twenty-five people plus luggage. Even if a taxi came soon, at least six or seven would be required for them. She bit her lip in desperation. Damn her hormones for accepting Nate’s dinner invitation. Look where it had gotten her. In trouble.
Resentful at Bea, the press and her own naivety as well a measure of resentment directed at Nate, Tilly’s jaw clenched tight. Darn him. He had made her forget. For a short time, she had been a woman on holidays without a care in the world, having a date with the most hunkilicious man she had ever met! Instead of being the Naughty Nanny dodging the English press.
Shoving her hands into her pockets to stop them shaking she replied. “Please organise a taxi to take me to the hostel at Masada.”
“Name?”
“Tilly, I mean Mattie.”
The concierge scratched his chin. “There is a shuttle booking for a Mattie paid by Nathaniel Morgan-York, is that you?”
Her heart flip-flopped. Oh, wow. Nate definitely got an extra-large tick for following through on his promise to organise her return journey. If only they could explore the rapport between them, take it further. But, with a heavy heart, she knew it was not going to be possible.
“Slicha?” The concierge waved his hand in front of her face.
“Sorry, yes that’s me,” the words tumbled from her lips.
“It’ll leave from over there.” He pointed to a bus stop at the resort’s entrance. “You can wait inside where it’s cooler. Don’t miss it.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a smile for his helpfulness and moved away from the crowds. Finding a discarded newspaper, she sat on a solitary armchair, opened it and hid behind the pages as though a participant in a John Grisham thriller.
“If you don’t want to draw attention to yourself then you shouldn’t read it upside down.” A deeply delicious voice sounded from behind the paper.
Tilly lowered the newspaper to find Nate standing in front of her. Her heart kicked up a precarious notch. Perhaps knights rescuing twenty-first century damsels in distress were not just myths. He had come to support her.
“You left this.” His right arm extended towards her with her forgotten beach bag. Her wayward heart plummeted and hit her stomach with a thud of reality.
Perhaps not.
“Thank you.” Nestled in there were her wallet and key. Stupid, stupi
d, stupid.
“I’m sorry about Bea.” He straightened his shoulders. “You’re the nanny, right?”
With a weary head, she nodded. “Yes, but what they wrote, it’s all lies. I’m not like that.”
“I’m sure,” he said with a reassuring voice. Unfortunately, she was anything but reassured.
He continued, “Where are you going?”
“Back to where I’m staying.” She gulped a large breath. “It was kind of you to pay for my return, thank you.”
Shaking his head he said, “Think nothing of it.”
Her eyes darted to the large clock near the entrance. Sixteen minutes to go. “The shuttle leaves soon,” she lied. “I’d better get going.”
She was the Naughty Nanny, a home-wrecker. And Nate knew. An ache of defeat spread through her chest.
Pleading innocence to the media had not worked. What chance did she have with a man whom she hardly knew? Her self-esteem could not risk another onslaught. She could not bear telling him the truth and have him not believe her.
She rose. Looking down, not wanting to catch his gaze in case he saw the desperation and angst in her face. She grabbed her things. “Thank you for coming up with Summer and that story for your sister, that was very clever of you.”
He shrugged off her compliment. “I wouldn’t want the press to find you.”
“That’s my worst nightmare, having them find me here.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for being there, I mean, for me.”
“If you need help, I’m here.”
Her spine stiffened. “I’m broke, unemployed and have been publicly humiliated. Even if I had the funds to pay a publicist and swag of lawyers, what makes you think you can help?”
His brow lifted. “You had an affair with a well-known MP—”
“Allegedly.” She hissed through clenched teeth. “And the only reason it made the news was that his wife was going through chemo.”
Falling for Mr Wrong Page 3
