The Playboy and the Nanny

by Anne McAllister

  The frown deepened. "You make it sound like two little kids fighting."

  "I see some similarity," Mari pointed out.

  "You don't see a damn thing."

  "Well, I'm sure you'll enlighten me."

  "I don't want anything to do with you."

  Mari wasn't entirely sure she wanted anything to do with him, either. If she hadn't felt what she'd felt when they'd kissed, she would have been running the other way.

  "Why are you staying?" Nikos demanded.

  "I gave my word."

  "He as much as lied to you!"

  "I know that." Mari shrugged. "I'm not going to play on his level."

  "You're going to reform me instead?" he said cynically.

  I wish, Mari thought. She ran her tongue over her lips. "I'm going to stay here because that's what I've been hired to do. I'm going to try to help because that's my job. What happens between your father and you—well, I'll do my best."

  "It won't be good enough," Nikos said. Then almost to himself he added, "It never is."

  Mari, caught by his words, wanted to ask what he meant, but he hauled himself to his feet and crutched past her toward his bedroom. "I have a headache. I'm going to sleep. Do whatever the hell you want. Just go away and leave me alone."

  She left him alone.

  She went looking for his father. She had plenty of questions that only Stavros Costanides could answer.

  He wasn't with his wife and her shower guests. Julietta waved a hand toward the house. "He took Alex in a little while ago. He's probably in his office by now. It's on the second floor. Go right on up. I think he's expecting you." As she said this last with a completely straight face, Mari merely thanked her and headed toward the house.

  "T think he's expecting you'," she muttered under her breath. "I'll bet."

  Stavros was sitting at his desk, the phone to his ear, when she appeared in the doorway. When he saw her, he smiled and beckoned her in.

  Mari didn't smile back. She entered the office, but she didn't take the seat he indicated. She had no intention of sitting down and putting herself at an even greater disadvantage.

  "Tell Adrianos to get right on it," Stavros said into the phone. "That's right. As quick as he can." This last was almost a bark. Then he hung up and turned a thousand-watt smile on her. "Ah, Miss Lewis, you've come to chat."

  "Not quite."

  "You can't quit," he reminded her. "You signed the contact."

  "I know that. What I don't know is what you expect me to do! If you intended to annoy and humiliate your son, I think you succeeded. Beyond that, I'm at a loss."

  "He was annoyed? Good. Humiliated? It serves him right. He has done plenty to humiliate me. And I want exactly what I said that I wanted. He is a problem. I want him not to be."

  "He's thirty-two years old!"

  "And he needs to grow up. He is lazy. He will not work in the company. He would prefer to be sailing his boat. Dancing attendance on unsuitable women. Creating gossip. Irritating me." He fixed her with a charming, conspiratorial smile. "I want it to stop."

  His smile was, in its way, as handsome as his son's. But Mari felt no sizzle, only annoyance. "He won't cooperate, Mr. Costanides."

  He lifted a brow. "And always your charges cooperate, Miss Lewis?" His tone was deceptively mild.

  "Not always," she admitted.

  "So you have ways...yes?" He looked hopeful. He made it sound like she tortured them into behaving properly.

  "I teach by love and care and example," she said with an edge to her voice.

  He nodded. "Just so." He steepled his hands on his desk and regarded her complacently over the top of them. "I should like to you love and care for Nikos."

  A frisson of primal fear skittered down her spine. Perhaps it was because he'd used the words love and Nikos in such close proximity—even though Mari knew he didn't mean that kind of love!

  She paced to the far end of his office and turned, with her hands on her hips. "And you think that will work?" she demanded finally, when he just looked at her expectantly.

  "My dear Miss Lewis, you yourself assured me it would work."

  "But—"

  But there was nothing to say to that because, in fact, she had. And it had worked—with all her other charges. But this was different!

  "He's not a child!" she argued.

  "No, he is not. But I lost him when he was a child. I think I have to start there to get him back."

  It was the first real honest remark she thought he'd made. Mari took a seat in the chair she'd been avoiding. "Why, Mr. Costanides?" She leaned her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her palm so she could look at him as she asked quietly, "Why now?"

  For a moment Stavros Costanides stared off out the window toward the beach and the ocean beyond. It was a beautiful view, but Mari didn't think he was seeing it. What was he seeing? Nikos? As a child? And himself? A young father? His expression grew almost pained for a moment Then he seemed to recollect himself. His jaw tightened and he looked back at her as he admitted almost grudgingly, "I need him now."

  "You didn't before?" she pressed.

  He gave an irritable wave of his hand. "We don't talk about 'before.' Before is over. It is now that matters. Now and the future."

  Mari didn't believe that. He'd said himself that what was happening now was a result of what had gone before. But obviously he wasn't willing to talk about it.

  Stavros picked up a silver pen and tapped it on the desk, watching the movement it made for a long moment before he continued his explanation. "I want to slow down. I work too hard. Too many years too hard. I am getting old. Sixty, you know? I don't have so many years left. Two years ago I had a heart attack. Not bad, you understand. But it scares me a little. I will not live forever. I want to spend time with my wife. My children." He raised his gaze to meet hers. "You understand?"

  "Children?" Mari said archly.

  Stavros's mouth pressed into a thin line for a second, as he absorbed the hit, then he nodded to acknowledge it. "My little children. They need a father."

  "And Nikos doesn't?"

  "Nikos is an adult, for all that he acts like an irresponsible idiot!"

  And I wonder why that is? Mari said silently. But she just waited for Stavros to continue.

  "I keep my company, though," he said. "I built it!" These last three words were spoken with the most emotion she'd heard from him. "From nothing I built it. Almost thirty-five years I have invested in it. It is my life, my legacy! I won't see it wasted." His eyes met hers again, dark and fierce. "I don't let Nikos waste it!"

  "You think he would?" Mari didn't know anything about that possibility.

  Stavros made a spitting sound. "Bah. Why wouldn't he?" He picked up a folder from his desk and shoved it at her. "See for yourself!"

  Mari took the folder automatically. It was at least an inch thick, filled, she could see, with copies of newspaper clippings. Headlines like "Greek Playboy Turns Heiress's Head" and "Nick the Hunk Bares All" blared out at her. She shut the folder with a snap.

  "You see? He knows nothing! He cares nothing! He respects nothing!" Stavros's dark complexion was a deep shade of red. He aimed the pen at her. "That is what I want you to fix."

  Helping children become emotionally healthy was something she was pretty good at. Keeping an adult man from running amok in the scandal sheets and driving a family business into the ground was not exactly in the same league.

  "I'm not sure..." she began hesitantly.

  "I am sure." The pen leveled on her again. "You will teach him to respect."

  It was on the tip of Mari's tongue to tell him that respect was earned, not taught, but she didn't think he wanted to hear it.

  Stavros tapped the pen irritably on the desktop. "He is smart. He is clever. He could do well if he wanted to. But he has to understand the business, the work I do. He won't. He behaves like a fool. Then he wants to take over just like that." He snapped his fingers. "T can do it,' he says. 'Trust me,' he say
s. 'You want me to take over? Step down, I will take over,' he says. Never! I never started at the top!"

  Fire blazed in Stavros's eyes. And then, as it ebbed, he got once more that faraway look, and Mari imagined that he was remembering that time thirty-five or so years ago when Costanides International had been no more than a dream. For a long moment neither of them spoke.

  Then Stavros seemed to collect himself and he went on firmly, "Even so, I don't want to cut him out. He is my son. But," he added with heavy emphasis, "he is no longer my only son. I have another. Maybe I will have two others. If Nikos wants to take over, to be part of Costanides International, he must learn!"

  To do it my way, Man finished for him silently.

  "I can't teach him anything about your business, Mr. Costanides."

  "/ teach him that," he said emphatically. "You teach him how to listen, to do what I say!"

  "To respect," Man said quietly, inevitably.

  Stavros poked the pen-point into the blotter on his desk. "Exactly. Yes." He gave a nod of dismissal. "Go now."

  Just like his son, he had a way of ending things. Mari got to her feet and started for the door.

  "Miss Lewis?"

  She turned back.

  He pointed at her again with the silver pen, fixing her where she stood. "And you start with no more kisses. Understood?"

  Nikos rolled over on his bed and pushed back the curtain, watching Mari Lewis return from the main house and wondering how in heaven's name he'd ever mistaken her for one of Debbie's Dollies. He must have overdosed on his pain medication.

  With her pinned up hair and her white blouse and navy blue skirt, she really did look like some damn librarian—or a convent schoolgirl.

  Still, for all that she resembled a refugee from The Sound of Music, she sure didn't kiss like a convent schoolgirl!

  Or, if she did, he'd better start taking another look at convents.

  He waited, watched her...and wondered if she'd let him have another soon.

  From the look on her face, he didn't think it likely. And yet—

  She'd wanted it. He would swear she'd wanted it. He would swear she'd wanted him

  Who was the real Mari Lewis under that schoolgirl disguise? Whoever she was, she was wasted on little kids!

  He hadn't been lying about his headache. It was better now, but he wasn't getting up and going to look for her. If she wanted to talk to him, she could come in here. He folded his arms under his head and waited.

  He didn't have to wait long. In a moment there was a tap on the door.

  "Come to share my bed?" he asked her.

  "Not now," she said.

  He blinked and shoved himself up against the headboard. Not now?

  When? he wanted to ask her.

  But she didn't even seem to be thinking about that. She came just inside the door and said, "There's not much love lost between you, is there?"

  "Not much," Nikos agreed. "Did he spell it all out for you? His demands and my bad behavior?"

  She hesitated. "He...dropped some hints."

  "I'll fill you in, if you'd like."

  She rubbed her forehead. "No, thanks."

  "I could save us both some headaches if you'd just drive me to the airport."

  "I can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't think that's in the plan."

  "Screw his plans," Nikos said sharply. "If I didn't have this damn cast I'd be out of here so fast his head would spin."

  "And give up your inheritance?"

  He frowned. "What the hell do you mean by that?" Now what was the old man up to?

  "That's what he's threatening. You don't play ball his way, do what he wants, and the company goes to Alex and the new baby."

  "Let it, then!" Nikos exploded.

  "He doesn't want it to. He'd rather you take over."

  "But he won't let me."

  "He will if—"

  "I do it his way. No thanks."

  "According to him, you need to understand how the business works."

  "I know how businesses work!"

  Mali's brows went straight up beneath the fringe of hair across her forehead. Nikos said something rude under his breath. If he shocked Miss Goody Two Shoes, he didn't care.

  "I gather you don't agree you need to know."

  "I don't agree I need to know."

  "Then prove it," she suggested mildly, "by listening to him and showing him."

  "Why the hell doesn't he listen to me?"

  "I don't know," she said calmly. "I'll ask him sometime."

  Nikos muttered again. "Don't bother!" He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, but she didn't move. She stood with her back to the door as if she was terrified of him, and yet oddly he didn't think she was.

  "What are you waiting for?" he demanded gruffly. "Another invitation?" He patted the sheet next to him and was pleased to see the color on her face deepen.

  "I'll be in the kitchen if you want me," she said, and fled, pulling the door shut behind her.

  "I won't want you, sweetheart," Nikos said, but his harsh voice was only loud enough for his own ears. "Unless it's in my bed."

  A vision of Mari Lewis's slender curves and ample bosom naked and delectable floated through his mind. Out of her proper clothes and with her long hair unbound, she would be something! Better than what-was-her-name—Truffles!—oh, God, yes.

  Was he crazy? He was fantasizing about a nanny! His nanny! It was almost kinky.

  It had obviously been too damn long since he'd had a woman in his arms.

  Mari had made a career of coping with children in trauma. She was used to coming into their lives at moments of crisis—when a parent died or a marriage shattered or a long string of broken promises left them without trust or hope.

  Better than all the king's horses and all the king's men, Mari Lewis was a master at putting them together again. She gave them hope, taught them to trust themselves first and then to judge others. It was hard work. It was more than hard work—it was exhausting work at times.

  But it was ever so rewarding to know she'd made a difference.

  She'd believed she could make just such a difference to Nikos Costanides—when she'd believed he was four!

  And now?

  Well, he certainly wasn't four, and the trauma, whatever it was, went a lot deeper. But that didn't make him any less needy. She could almost see the need crying out from deep inside him.

  Oh, yes. That's definitely what you're interested in, she jeered at herself.

  Well, okay. She wasn't only interested in his pain and his miserable childhood. She was also interested in Nikos as a man.

  But the man was a product of his upbringing, wasn't he? And it was her job to deal with that.

  She knew without giving it a thought what his reaction would be. Forget it. She was sure he'd said it plenty of times. / don't need that son-of-a-bitch! She could almost hear him say those words, too.

  But why?

  What had happened between Nikos and his father to bring them to this?

  The folder Stavros had given her sat on the desk in her bedroom. She had put it there the moment she'd returned. She hadn't picked it up. She didn't want to pick it up.

  She wanted to get to know Nikos for herself.

  And then what?

  Put the family back together again. Of course.

  And?

  And nothing, she told herself sharply. She was doing her job, that was all.

  And what about the kiss? What about the sizzle?

  Did Mary Poppins ever have to think about things like that?

  CHAPTER THREE

  The phone rang at three a.m.

  Mari, startled out of a restless sleep, wasn't even sure where she was for a moment. When she finally remembered, it wasn't an improvement. Was Stavros Costanides doing a bed-check? she wondered.

  She groped for the phone on her bedside table. But when she picked it up, she discovered that Nikos was already on the line.

  And s
o was a soft-voiced woman with a British accent. "Ah, Nikos," she said, "I got you up."

  "Again," Mari heard Nikos growl sleepily. "You never let me get a full night's sleep, Claudia."

  The woman on the other end of the line giggled.

  Hastily Mari slammed the phone down. She shouldn't have been surprised. She wasn't surprised. Annoyed was more like it.

  Annoyed because she'd been awakened. Not because Nikos Costanides had another woman! Mari rolled over and punched her pillow, then settled her head down again. She didn't care. She had no reason to care.

  Only the memory of his kiss. And that incredible sizzle.

  She hard-boiled his egg. She burned his toast. She had to start over with both before she got them the way she always fixed them. And then she carried them on a tray to his bedroom and tapped on the door. If he'd been four, she'd have walked in.

  She wasn't walking in on this Nikos Costanides.

  "Come in," he growled.

  She pushed the door open and pasted a bright good-morning smile on her face. A good thing, too, because if she'd waited to try to do it until she'd actually confronted him, ruffled and sleepy, sprawled in his bed with the sheet barely pulled over the most private parts of him, she doubted if she could have made her muscles work.

  As it was, she managed to swallow and that was about it.

  "Come to cuddle?" he drawled, and gave her what was undoubtedly one of his better playboy leers.

  She remembered Thomas saying he liked to tease, and knew that she was the butt of this particular joke. She wondered what he would do if she said yes!

  Not that she was going to! she reminded herself smartly. Curiosity killed the cat, after all. Who was to say she was immune?

  It was enough to know that whatever spark had existed between her and Nikos Costanides, it had lasted to live another day.

  "I've brought you some breakfast," she said, crossing the room and setting the tray on the table.

  He stared at it. "Boiled egg and toast fingers?" He sounded incredulous.

  "I can fix oatmeal if you'd like."

  "Being a nanny entails fixing breakfast?"

  "Generally, yes. Especially since we're, um...on our own down here." She wasn't sure she wanted to call attention to that, but since it was obvious, she didn't suppose it made any difference. He wasn't dim.