“Gourmet, huh? You must be one hell of a chef.”
A smirk crosses his face. “I’m a very talented man. After just one taste, you’ll be hooked and begging for more.”
There is a decidedly sexual undertone to his words that sends a thrill careening down my spine. I don’t know whether he is simply talking about food or maybe something more, but something tells me it won’t take long to find out.
***
After dinner, I give Allie her bath and read her a bedtime story before tucking her into bed. Within minutes, she is fast asleep. I place a kiss on her forehead and gently brush the blonde curls from her face before shutting her door and tiptoeing downstairs. I usually spend the hours after Allie falls asleep getting work done, so I pour myself a small glass of wine before settling on the couch with my laptop. There are four emails waiting in my inbox from various investors confirming our meeting for tomorrow morning, one from Kelsey and one from Joel. Ugh. Not quite ready to deal with the can of worms I know I’ll be opening from my ex, I click on Kelsey’s email first.
Hey Sam!
Just checking in to make sure you’re absolutely positive it’s okay for Ryan to stay with you while he’s in town. I offered to let him stay with me, but he refused, saying he didn’t want to stay in an apartment where he’d have to hear his baby sister having sex with her boyfriend. lol. I guess I can’t blame him. Anyways, everything’s all set for tomorrow’s meeting, and Jenny from Deluca’s Bakery will be by at seven to drop off the pastries and coffee. Try to get some sleep. Ryan’s a really good guy, and I know he’ll take really good care of Allie. See you in the AM!
Kelsey Cox
Peacock Cosmetics, Administrative Assistant
I type out a quick response before bracing myself for Joel’s email. In the ten years I’ve known Joel Whittaker, the only good thing to come out of him was his sperm. The man is a complete narcissistic ass, and the only time he ever tries to contact me is when he is about to bail on Allie. I take a gulp of wine and click on the email.
Sammy,
Something’s come up and I won’t be able to take Allie this weekend. Tell her how sorry I am. You know how much she means to me, but my career has to come first, and this contract is a seven-figure deal. I’ll let you know when I’ll be free again.
-Joel
I exhale sharply through my nose and slam my laptop shut. Of course he’s canceling. Ever since he became some hot shot in the corporate world, he treats Allie like a ragdoll he can just toss around and leave wherever he sees fit. He has no regard for anyone’s feelings except his own. Needing a distraction, I get up and pour myself another glass of wine before making my way down the hallway to check on Ryan and see if he needs anything.
The door is cracked open, and there’s the faintest sound of bass pumping through the air. I knock softly, but there’s no answer. Concerned, I push the door open and my mouth goes dry. Ryan is standing in the center of the room with his back to me, wearing only a pair of workout shorts and earbuds. His back glistens with sweat as the corded muscles in his back and arms flex with each movement as he lifts a set of weights. Out and in. Out and in. The movement has me completely hypnotized. The man definitely knows how to take care of his body—there can’t be more than three percent fat on him. He bends to put the weights down, and I stare at the way his ass presses against the material of his shorts. Before I know what’s happening, my wine glass slips out of my hand and splinters against the floor.
“Shit!”
Ryan whirls around, startled, taking in the entire scene. Me, standing in the doorway ogling him with broken glass and spilt wine pooling around my bare feet. Before I can even think, my eyes trail down his broad chest and over the hard lines of his stomach, stopping at the deep V-cut of his hips that disappears beneath his shorts.
“Jesus, Samantha, are you okay?” He yanks the buds out of his ears and tosses them on the bed before rushing to my side.
“Yeah, sorry,” I manage to spit out. “I just was coming to see if you needed anything before I went upstairs, but I thought I saw a spider and accidentally dropped my glass.” The lie is flimsy at best, but at least he has the decency to play along.
“I’m good, thank you. I just was doing my nighttime workout. Here, don’t move. Let me get this glass cleaned up so you don’t cut yourself.” He steps away and returns with his shirt in his hand. Bending down, he scoops up the pieces of glass and mops up the wine.
“I’m afraid that might have ruined your shirt… I’d be happy to replace it.”
He looks up at me and grins. “Not necessary. This was a gag gift from an old buddy of mine. If I’m being honest, I usually only wear it while working out.”
“Do you work out every night?”
“Yeah, at least I try to. It helps me sleep better if I push my body hard.” He finishes cleaning up my mess and stands up, his body just inches from mine. His eyes run over my body slowly, and a cocky grin spreads across his face. “But some workouts are better than others. Do you like to work out, Samantha?”
“I don’t really have the time.” Truth is, my idea of a workout is walking down the block to the local Dunkin’ Donuts for a glazed cruller, but somehow I think exercising could be a lot more fun if it involved being horizontal with Ryan.
As if he can read my mind, he takes a step closer, and his hand lands on my hip. My heart thrashes against my ribcage as my synapses fire off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Every nerve in my body feels electric. He bends his head bringing his lips next to my ear. “You obviously haven’t found the right activity if you think you don’t have time. There’s always time. I’d be happy to help you exercise. I think you’d really enjoy my workouts.”
I blink and take a step back, needing to put a little distance between us. This is wrong. He’s only twenty-four. He’s eight years younger than me. Not to mention he’s my assistant’s brother and my daughter’s nanny for the week.
“Ryan…I…I should get ready for bed. I have a big meeting early in the morning.”
He nods, but the disappointment is written all over his face. “Goodnight, Samantha. Sweet dreams.”
“You too. See you in the morning.”
I quickly retreat to my room, a little bit confused and a whole lot of turned on.
Chapter 3
THE NEXT DAY, I meet up with my best friend Sasha for a little shopping during my lunch break. Sasha and I met during freshman year when we were paired up as roommates in the dorms. We couldn’t have been more different. She was a stunning five-foot-nine Asian goddess with porcelain skin and a body that didn’t know that scarfing down cheeseburgers and shakes for two years straight was supposed to make you fat. She only wore black clothing and enjoyed listening to heavy metal (cringe). I, on the other hand, was a petite five-foot-two with dirty blonde hair, a size seven waist, and an ass that refused to shrink in size, no matter how many butt-blasting exercises I tried.
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Sasha says as she picks through a rack of clothing. “Kelsey’s little brother is watching Allie and staying with you the entire week?”
“There’s nothing little about Ryan, but yes, that’s correct.”
“And you’re regretting the decision?”
“No.” I pause. “I’m not regretting it… I just…”
“Are worried you won’t make it another day without sneaking into his room and straddling him in the middle of the night?” She grins and waggles her eyebrows at me.
“Sash!” I scold.
“What? We both know you need to get laid. Badly.”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“Oh, really? Because if I recall, the last time you got some was right after your divorce. Three years ago.”
“Yeah, and that same experience is exactly why I haven’t had sex since.”
I groan at the memory of the last guy I slept with. I was heartbroken and drunk, and nothing good ever comes out of that combination. The guy from the bar was the ki
nd of man that made me realize I hit rock bottom and that one-night stands were definitely not for me. I don’t remember much of that night, but what I do remember is him using a baby voice to call my vagina a “bajingo” before he asked if I could show him where my clit was. Ugh. Seriously?
She laughs and rolls her eyes at me. “So you experienced a bad fuck. It happens. It doesn’t mean you close up shop for good. I mean, you wait much longer and you’ll be able to cross visiting the Sahara off your bucket list because all you’ll have to do is spread your legs to see the desert.”
I try to keep a straight face but fail miserably, unable to hold back my laughter. “You and your damn jokes. My vagina’s fine, you don’t have to worry.”
“Whatever. All I’m saying is, you’ve got a hot male nanny staying with you for a week. And he’s in the Army. If it were me, I’d have been dry humping the moment he walked in the door.”
“Dry humping? Really? I think you give yourself too much credit.”
Her smile widens as we both walk into the dressing room and step behind separate curtains. “Nothing wrong with enjoying good sex. It’s a good workout, which means you get endorphins, and on top of that you get an orgasm, multiple if you’re lucky. It doesn’t get any better than that.”
I finish trying on my clothes in silence, not wanting to admit she’s right. As much as I try to deny it, I miss good sex. I miss the weight of a man’s body pressed against mine, and the musky scent that fills the room between labored breaths. The vibrator I keep in my nightstand drawer has been really good to me, but it never quite compares to the real deal. My mind automatically goes to Ryan, and I wonder what would happen if he were here with me in this dressing room. I picture my back pressed up against the wall with his head between my thighs and within seconds, my panties are soaked.
Realizing what an mistake I’ve made, I try to quell my desire by thinking of something else. I focus on my conference call scheduled for later today, but then I picture Ryan’s husky voice telling me how hard he is over the phone. I think about the fog that blanketed the city this morning, but then I wonder how many places Ryan and I could have snuck off to without anyone seeing because the clouds hung so low. Everything I think of ultimately comes back to me sleeping with Ryan.
I am so fucked (figuratively, of course). This is going to be a problem.
***
By the time I make it home, it’s half past nine and the lights are dimmed throughout the house. I feel awful that I didn’t make it home in time to read Allie her bedtime story and kiss her goodnight, so I tiptoe upstairs and quietly peek in on her. I smile when I see her angelic little face poking out from beneath her Princess Sofia comforter, and her little arms wrapped around her favorite teddy bear. My beautiful little girl. My heart swells every single time I look at her—the best thing I’ve ever created in my entire existence boils down to her. Careful not to wake her, I press my lips to her forehead and whisper that I love her before I change into my pajamas and head downstairs to the kitchen.
I pull a glass out of the cabinet and pour myself a glass of wine when footsteps pad down the hallway. I smell his aftershave before I see him. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that hang low on his hips and a maroon T-shirt that makes it impossible not to see his muscles bulging beneath the thin material. My libido kicks into overdrive.
“Hey,” he says, giving me a lopsided grin. “Glad you made it home okay.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to work that late, but the time just got away from me. I know I should have called or texted or something, but I was in meetings all morning, and then one of our biggest investors decided to pull out of our contract, which is just a huge problem on its own, so I just—”
“Samantha, relax.” His hands grip my hips as he looks down at me, and I feel like a pubescent girl, because I could stare into his eyes all night. I knew beforehand that his eyes were beautiful, but I never noticed the gold flecks in them until now, or the way his lashes brush against the tops of his cheekbones when he blinks.
“Sorry, I know I’m babbling, I just feel awful that I worked so late, and I didn’t even let you know.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You hired me to make your life easier, not cause you more stress. Let me take care of you.” He leads me over to the sofa and pulls a blanket over my lap once I’m seated. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He disappears for a few minutes, and the sound of drawers opening and closing combined with the low hum of the microwave fills the room. When he returns, he’s wearing a shy smile as he carries a plate of food.
“Did you make this? It looks delicious.” I stare down at the plate as he places it on the coffee table in front of me.
“I did. I love cooking and trying new recipes, but chicken piccata with rice and green beans is my go-to whenever I want to impress someone.” He pauses, and I try to ignore the little somersault my heart does at his words. He wants to impress me.
I cut into a piece of chicken and take a bite, letting the flavors dance on my tongue. “Oh my God,” I moan. “This is incredible. If Kelsey had mentioned you could cook like this, I would have invited you to stay at my house a long time ago.”
He laughs and lowers himself next to me. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
He shrugs. “When Kelsey and I were kids, our dad wasn’t around much, and she didn’t want me growing up watching useless crap on TV. The only things she let me watch were the Food Network and the History channel. Eventually, I started trying to recreate the recipes I saw on TV, and I found I really loved cooking.”
“Did you ever think about pursuing a career in it? Because seriously, Ryan, this is quite possibly the best meal I’ve had in about seven years.”
The dimple on his left cheek deepens as his smile grows. I know a lot of men take offense to being called beautiful, but Ryan truly is. Everything about him is devastatingly beautiful. Not only that, but he’s selflessly serving our country, great with my daughter, and as if that weren’t enough, he’s a damn good chef to boot. Talented doesn’t even begin to describe Ryan Cox.
“I’d love to have my own restaurant, but it’s a tough market out there. Starting a restaurant requires capital that I don’t have right now. Maybe in a year after my contract is up with the Army I’ll think about applying to culinary school.”
“Well, you know if you ever need anything, you can always come to me.”
“I couldn’t take your money, Samantha.”
“I figured you’d say that, but I wanted you to at least know it was an option. Think of me as an interested investor.”
“You really are something special. Your ex-husband was a fucking idiot to ever let you go.”
I swallow, unsure of what to say. Instead, I focus on my plate of food, carefully cutting it into bite-sized pieces. When I look up, he’s watching me, and my palms begin to sweat. He reaches out and swipes his thumb across my bottom lip, leaving a blaze of heat trailing along my skin. His steely gaze holds me in place as he sucks on his finger, a low groan rumbling in the back of his throat. My entire body feels like it’s lit on fire just from watching him.
“Samantha.” Just hearing my name on his tongue has my panties drenched. He leans forward slightly, until our lips are just centimeters apart.
“W-we shouldn’t,” I whisper.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t. Because I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been thinking about all the ways I want to fuck you since the day we met.”
I press my knees together, trying to stop the fierce ache building between my thighs, but if anything, it only makes it worse. “You’re my assistant’s little brother.”
His hand moves to my knee, his fingers tracing small circles along my skin. “So? Everyone is someone’s brother, sister, son or daughter.”
“True…but, you’re only twenty-four. I’m eight years older than you.”
His hand slides higher, teasing my thigh,
until it lands on my hip, sending chills tingling down my spine. “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
“Fine, but what about the fact that I’m technically your boss for the next week? It’s unethical.”
“So fire me, then.” His fingers slip beneath the waistband of my shorts and brush over my panties that are completely soaked through. A knowing smile eases across his lips. “Deny it all you want, but you want me just as much as I want you. I’ve barely even touched you and your pussy is drenched.”
My mind is screaming that this is wrong. There are so many reasons why I shouldn’t let this happen, but the second his fingers dip inside my panties and he drags his thumb across my clit, I can’t think of a single goddamn reason to stop him. It’s been so long since a man’s touched me. So. Damn. Long. I’ve gotten plenty of use out of my vibrator that I keep next to my bed, but trying to compare a battery-operated device to the touch of a man is like comparing Chanel to Walmart. My head jerks backwards when his thumb applies more pressure, and I shamelessly spread my legs wider for him.
“Oh, God,” I moan as my hips buck off the couch, desperately seeking more.
He slips two fingers inside me, and the feeling of his long fingers plunging in and out of me has me dizzy with need. I need more. More friction. More pressure. More Ryan. As if sensing my thoughts, he starts massaging my clit with his thumb, alternating between gentle caresses and heated strokes. The coil winding deep inside me tightens with each movement, and I can feel my orgasm building quickly. Too quickly.
“Oh, God, Ryan. You’re going to make me come,” I pant, my fingers clawing at the edges of the couch.
My words are meant as a warning for him to slow down, but if anything, his fingers begin to move faster and harder.
“Good, because I’ve been dreaming about making you come for years, and I can’t wait to make it a reality.”
He flicks his thumb over my clit one more time, and I fall over the edge as waves of my orgasm wash over me in quick succession. “Yesssss…” I hiss as time seems to stand still while my body savors each tendril of pleasure. My head feels lightheaded, so I close my eyes, wanting to ride out this feeling for as long as possible.
Mister Nanny Page 2
