by Wade, Dani
Who was more than happy to supply the details. “Brother.” Daniel was enjoying this way too much.
One arched brow rose at the laughter in his voice; then she studiously avoided looking in Daniel’s direction. “Right. Your brother. I just saw two men in the mirror—”
“And rightly freaked out,” Michael said, wanting to ease the situation so he could make sure she wasn't hurt—and not embarrass her further. “We completely understand. I didn't let the kids know I was coming because I didn't know myself.”
He moved a little closer, only to have her step back quickly. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “Let's just check you out, see if you're okay.”
“Oh.” She paused for a moment as if to take inventory, one hand still holding her wrist. “I'm fine. A little bump on the head, maybe. That's all.”
Daniel spoke up. “What about that knee? Looks a little scraped up.”
Sweeping his gaze down her body, Michael took in a flat stomach, rounded thighs, muscled legs, and a red, angry patch of skin. “Here,” he said, motioning for her to come with him. “Let's go to the kitchen. There’s a first-aid kit in there.”
She raised her hands in front of her as if to ward him off. “No problem. I can handle it.” Then she swept by them and out the door.
“We can see that,” Daniel murmured, flashing an amused look at Michael.
Yes, he could. She exuded self-sufficiency, yet Michael hadn’t mistaken that glimpse of vulnerability.
These two are gonna kill me, and we haven't even added the kids into the mix.
She paused in the open doorway and looked back at him over her shoulder, her eyes darkened by the shadows behind her. “By the way, I'm Taylor Jemison. Your nanny.”
He nodded, then they moved forward, Michael and Daniel trailing her down the hall.
“Wow, dude. You've seriously got to hit that,” Daniel mumbled under his breath as they followed her.
“Stop. Right. There.”
Daniel paused, studied Michael’s glare for a moment, then kept going. “Why? I’ve been telling you for years: just because Claudie was a roamer doesn't mean you have to be a monk.”
“I'm not a monk. Just…picky.” But the thought stuck. That's why he was so horny. Surely. Unlike the rest of the guys in the band, groupies left a bad taste in his mouth, so he hadn't been laid in what felt like forever. That's all this was.
Who was he kidding? He could have a quick taste any day of the week. It wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what he needed. Michael’s dominant strain had gone underground when his wife started sampling everybody but him, mostly because it would have been too easy to let his master hand mix with the rage burning deep inside. But he knew what he liked, and a quick roll in the hay wasn’t it.
Unfortunately his new nanny was tailor-made to his horny specifications.
Chapter Two
What kind of reference could an employee look forward to after threatening her boss?
Granted, Taylor had thought they were intruders, maybe rabid fans, at the time, which made her feel even more stupid. She'd seen pictures of Michael around the house, but none of them were close up and she'd been too caught up in her own turmoil to go searching out what her boss looked like. After all, she hadn't planned on seeing him for another few weeks.
But would he see that as an excuse?
He’d been concerned, but distant ever since. Those mist-covered eyes somber, leaving her with the feeling that she was being judged…and not measuring up. While he was distracted with the kids, she studied him across the table over lunch. Yep, she was an idiot. After all, the man was lip-smackin' gorgeous, with dark, close-cropped hair and a goatee. His brother was fairer, with almost shoulder-length, blondish-brown hair, but the angular jaw and high cheekbones were identical.
Every time Michael Korvello turned those smoky blue-gray eyes her way, she wanted to melt into a puddle—right along with half a million other women at a time, she was sure.
Ugh. She was pathetic. Shouldn't she still be eschewing new men while she was on the run from an old one? Yet she couldn’t forget the feel of his hand around her wrist, squeezing lightly. The message had been clear, I’m in charge. The urge to let him mold her however he wanted was overpowering, so she’d deliberately taken charge of herself. She didn’t need anyone, no matter how sexy they were.
The kids definitely loved having him home. They’d both latched on quick the minute they saw him, not getting more than a few feet away. Did they think he would disappear as quickly as he’d appeared?
“Daddy,” Matthew said, trying to fit two months worth of news into as short a span of time as he could, “I got all As on my last report card. Well, except for one C. And we made greenhouses in science and went on a field trip to some caves and saw bats…”
“Dude,” Daniel said, “let Daddy's ears breathe for a minute. You talk to him every couple of days. Remember?”
“Right,” Matthew said. He took a big bite of his hamburger but only got about halfway through chewing before he said, “But we also made posters for the Drug Awareness program, and mine will be hanging at the Galleria all summer.”
“Cool, buddy,” Michael said, not at all phased by his son's constant chatter. A smile even pulled at his lips, something she hadn't seen yet.
And what a sight it was.
Bradley had never been able to abide noisy kids. Of course, without a family to expose him to, it had taken several months before she realized that. By then the other warning signals had convinced her he wasn’t the type of person she’d ever want to have kids with.
Matthew’s growing hyperness jangled her nerves, especially since it wasn’t normal for him. The more laid-back of the two kids, he could be silent for hours. But when he wanted to talk, he made every breath count. She’d been trying to work with Matthew on appropriate behavior in appropriate places. As he jiggled in his chair, she acknowledged that the excitement had led to a definite setback. And the father showed no signs of reining in his son.
It happened, but this crew seemed to take it in stride. The family laughed over Matthew's continued antics, reawakening Taylor’s dreams of rebuilding a family of her own. Amazing how someone could be alone, even with a partner. Just sitting at the table, this group had more togetherness than Taylor had experienced in years.
Without warning Matthew turned full frontal toward her. She winced as he missed taking out his plate by a mere inch. His bright eyes, more the color of Daniel’s, took on a pleading expression. “Taylor, are we still making cookies tonight?”
They'd been baking since her arrival, but for the first time that voice from the past intruded. Do you really need another chocolate chip on that fat ass? Hell no! She almost folded under the shame of Bradley’s condemnation, but the disappointment leaking into the kids’ eyes had her straightening her once nonexistent backbone.
“Of course.” She nodded as the kids erupted into excited chatter over chocolate chips and the marvels of cookie dough.
“Cookies?” Daniel asked. “Why the he—um, heck, are you making cookies after I leave?”
McKayla, a little more restrained than her brother, answered, “It’s family fun night. You’re family, Uncle Daniel, so you can come too.”
Both men's brows went up, and they turned to look at Taylor. Much as she would like to have controlled it, her cheeks heated and she looked away. Being the focus of that much testosterone was more than a little unnerving. “Just something we've been having fun with,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” Matthew chimed in. “We cook and play games or watch a movie or something fun. It’s great.”
“I find that it’s nice for families, kids, to do stuff together,” Taylor said, gaining confidence. “We enjoy it.”
“I'm learning to cook, Dad,” McKayla said.
If anything, Michael looked even more surprised; then he frowned. Nerves quickened in the pit of her stomach. Didn't he want the children to have fun? To bond together?
“The cook doesn
't mind,” Taylor interjected, “as long as we clean up.”
“Which we do,” McKayla said.
“Yeah,” Matthew added, but this word was more of a moan than a response. “That's the only bad part of the whole night.”
The men laughed, prompting Matthew to throw out his arms in a “whatchya gonna do” gesture that took out his milk glass with panache.
McKayla squealed as she jumped back from the liquid flung her way and the men stood, but Taylor held her seat. Her eyes met Matthew's when he glanced to the side.
He didn't move, almost as if he were frozen. The cook rushed through the swinging door from the kitchen with a wet towel.
“That's okay, Susan,” Taylor said. “Matthew can clean up his own mess.”
A quick glance around the table and Matthew's lip stuck out with petulant grace. “Isn't that her job?”
A nanny could always expect some ground to be lost in any progress, but those smoky eyes watching her without an expression didn’t clue her in to how he wanted her to handle this. No one said a word. Heat flushed from her toes up to her cheeks. Although used to making children behave, Taylor wasn't used to doing it in front of their parents. As if he knew that, Matthew looked toward his father with a self-satisfied expression.
Oh, that wasn't going to happen. At all.
Taylor tried again. “Susan, give Matthew the towel. He's a young man and can clean up his own mess. Can't you, Matthew?”
Without saying a word, Matthew tucked his hands under his legs. With a nod, Taylor motioned for Susan to leave the towel on the table, then retreat to the kitchen.
Taylor didn't look toward Michael, though she felt the prickle of awareness when his gaze swung her way. Testing her, too, was he?
“Matthew, you're right. You don't have to clean up if you don't want to, but if you don't, you won't be joining us for family fun night. You can spend it in your room instead.”
The child's eyes widened, and his defiance melted like butter. Matthew wasn't a bad kid—neither of them were—he was simply testing his boundaries. He'd done it when she first arrived, and she should have expected it again once a parent returned to the scene. With silent acquiescence, he wiped up the milk and looked to her for approval.
“Good job. Now take the towel back to Susan, please.”
He headed for the kitchen with a little more attitude in his step, but as long as he was heading that way, she let it slide. No sooner had he breached the door than McKayla's phone rang.
“May I be excused?” she asked.
One of the other “new rules” the kids had to get used to—no cell phones at the table. She hadn’t gone so far as to institute the “pray before every meal” tradition she’d learned growing up, but mealtime was family time. Not “talk on the phone” or “text with your friends” time. Taylor nodded, then watched as the young woman excused herself to the other room with her phone.
Only then did Taylor allow herself to look over at the two men still seated at the table. Daniel's mouth hung slightly open as if frozen in a moment of surprise, but it was Michael that worried her.
His frown had turned to a glare. Guess the teacher hadn’t won a gold star this time.
* * *
Michael snapped his cell phone shut and listened to his kids chattering in the kitchen. The cell phone was a vivid reminder of lunchtime and all the surprises Taylor Jemison had in store for him. He'd wanted to call the lawyer and tell him to replace her, but he didn't have a good reason. And unlike a lot of celebrities, Michael wasn’t interested in throwing his weight around, just for the sake of it.
Not wanting personal temptations inside his home didn't qualify, since he had no intention of sleeping with her. Or even touching her. Even if he burned to the longer he watched her. But he still wanted her to go—because he was a weak-willed bastard.
Except her performance this afternoon with the kids proved this wasn't just a gig for her. She was good. Really good. Which had made him angry for a moment. If she’d sucked as a nanny, he’d have an excuse to act.
His kids weren't bad. He'd isolated them from a lot of exposure, protected them with security and private schools, and kept a lot of secrets about their mother from them. Still, constant trips meant his visits home included chaos, something Michael had no idea how to tame. Sometimes being home made him feel like an alien visiting Earth. He loved Matthew and McKayla, but he sure didn’t know how to do the father thing. The kind of father he truly wanted to be.
How could he fault someone for trying to institute some structure without slamming down a heavy hand? He focused once more on the laughing voices inside the kitchen. How could he give up someone who might just teach them what it meant to be a family?
His libido was an issue all his own—as evidenced by her remote behavior from the moment he’d let her wrist go.
“Wow! Kids and cookies, too? Now who's the superstar?” Daniel's words floated through his head. She definitely wasn't what he’d expected, and just might be what he needed. What they all needed. So he should suck it up, just like Daniel said.
This wasn't a groupie. This wasn't his dead wife, and wasn't someone worming their way in to get close to a rock star. This was an employee doing her job.
He could handle that, couldn't he?
Sure he could, if he just kept his mind on his kids and her hand off his dick. His hand. Damn it, his hand.
He scrubbed at his face, aiming to wake himself up and get in the game. Keeping her around would be harder than he thought.
With a wry twist of his lips, he headed into the busy kitchen, following the draw of happiness and the lure of butter and brown sugar.
They'd assembled homemade pizza masterpieces, with Susan's blessing, and had now moved on to the dessert portion of the evening. Although as he walked into the room, he wondered just how many cookies would make it to the oven, considering the blatant dips into the cookie dough bowl.
His gaze met a laughing green one, sparkling with knowledge of his thoughts. “Don't worry,” Taylor mock whispered. “That's why we make two batches at a time.”
Good thing she couldn't read all his thoughts, or she'd know he would give his next endorsement check to lick the swath of grainy butter mixture from the edge of her mouth. Her lips parted, and he wondered whether his thoughts were so secret after all. Then a wicked grin tilted her full lips, stopping his breath in his chest.
Somehow her finger was loaded down with cookie dough—he didn’t see it happen because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her mouth—and she was offering it to him. “Wanna bite?” she asked.
Oh boy, did he. He wanted to make her take the bowl, spread it over those full breasts, and offer him a bite— Breaking the spell with a shake of his head, he leaned back. “No thanks,” he said, his voice coming out a little harder than he intended.
Like flipping a light switch, the emotions disappeared from her face. “Okay,” she mumbled, then popped the dough into her own mouth. An intriguing flush swept over her high cheekbones.
Damn, he’d embarrassed her. Not what he’d planned, but if it kept her away from him, then so be it.
As she turned away, she wiped over her lips with a towel, then started searching the cabinets. “Anyone know where the cookie sheets went?”
“They're over here, silly,” Matthew called, then dug for another finger full of cookie dough.
“Stop that.” McKayla swatted at his hand. They both collapsed into a giggling heap rather than pretending to be the almost-adults they often tried to convince him they were.
After they delivered a batch of cookies safely to the oven, Taylor rested her fists on curvy hips lovingly shaped with a pair of dark jeans, and asked, “So what game are we up for tonight?” She studiously avoided looking in his direction.
The kids jumped in, mouths first.
“Scrabble.”
“Monopoly.”
“Cards.”
“Poker.”
“Poker?” Taylor asked, raising a br
ow in their direction. “I don't know how to play that.”
“But Dad does,” Matthew asserted. “He could teach us.”
They all looked his way, but he couldn't tell from her hooded gaze what Taylor thought of him teaching the kids how to gamble. Better not rock the boat any more tonight.
“Maybe next time, Son,” he said. “Let's just go with something easy tonight.”
The silence settled across the room before McKayla spoke. “So you're gonna be here next week too?”
McKayla's uncertain hazel eyes and Matthew's blue ones watched him with extra care. Michael could go onstage in front of thousands of people without a single qualm, but looking into his children’s eyes prompted a high-level buzz that took up residence in his gut. He’d been looking forward to surprising them, and now was as good a time as any.
“Yes, baby, I'll be here until our next gig in Washington State.”
The entire room went silent, as if the kids and Taylor were holding their breath. Did she care whether he was here, or would she prefer him out of her hair?
“In September,” he said. That’s when cheers erupted from the crowd, and Michael savored a high unlike anything he felt in front of an audience. God, he loved his kids.
His chest tightened as they danced around, then hugged him, one on each side. It hurt to know they had gotten so used to him leaving that they felt they had to keep their regrets inside. But their show of enthusiasm was a spotlight in his dim world.
McKayla, her face so very reminiscent of her mother—a woman who had never reached the maturity level of her fifteen-year-old daughter—gifted him with a super smile. “That's good then.”
The buzzer went off, and the cookies came out of the oven. Michael appreciated the distraction so he had a moment to breathe through his emotions. Music was the energy that pumped him up and kept him from dwelling on the darkness lurking inside him—he couldn't give it up. Especially since music was what provided security and stability to his kids. He wouldn't leave Daniel anyway, even if the melodies didn't call to him almost every second of his waking days.
