The Nanny Plan

by Sarah M. Anderson

  Trish looked at him like she wanted to comfort him. But she said, “No one knows about your brother?”

  “In the past, other people have tried to use that against me. Against my family. And I will not stand for it.” The last part came out meaner than he meant it to. She wasn’t a threat. She wasn’t Diana.

  “You give to mental illness research.”

  “Because of Joe, yeah.” He sighed. “He needs his routine. My mom takes care of him and I pay for home health workers. But the last few weeks, my parents have been so upset about Brad and Elena... Besides,” he added, feeling the weight of the words, “I’m her legal guardian.”

  “I see,” she replied. “Oh, that’s a good girl, Jane. Here.” She handed Nate the bottle and then casually moved the baby to her shoulder and began patting Jane’s back. “So you’re trying to hire a nanny?”

  “Yeah. You want the job?”

  Trish paused in midpat, and then laughed a little too forcefully. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  He wasn’t about to take no as an answer. So he didn’t always know what to do around members of the opposite sex. He knew how to negotiate a business deal. He needed a nanny. She needed money.

  “What do you mean? You obviously know what you’re doing.” The more he thought about it, the better he liked this idea. He’d already sort of interviewed her, after all. He liked her. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a good enough reason to offer her a job changing diapers and burping a baby, but he was comfortable with her and she knew what she was doing and that counted for something.

  She sighed. “Of course I do. My mom had nine kids with...four different men. Then she married my current stepfather, who had four kids of his own with two other women. I’m the oldest.”

  Nate tried to process that information. “Your mom had ten kids?”

  “Not that she took care of them,” Trish replied and for the first time, he heard a distinctive note of bitterness in her voice.

  “You?”

  Her smile was tight. “Me.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Look, I need a nanny. More than that, I need you. I’ve had three people come to the door and no one’s made it past five minutes, whereas you’ve gotten Jane to calm down and stop screaming. I swear this is the first time in two weeks I’ve been able to hear myself think.”

  And all of that had nothing to do with the way Trish had touched him, so he was still acting aboveboard here.

  “Mr. Longmire,” she said in a deeply regretful tone, “I can’t. I’m due to graduate with my master’s degree in a month and a half. I need to finish my studies and—”

  “You can study here. When she sleeps.”

  Trish’s eyes flashed in defiance, which made him smile. “I work two jobs,” she went on, in a stronger voice. “I do research for the professor who nominated me for the Glamour award and I answer phones in the department.”

  This was much better. She was negotiating. And God knew that, despite the fact that he was so tired he was on the verge of seeing two Trishes cuddling two babies, he could negotiate a business deal. “For, what? Ten dollars an hour?”

  Her back stiffened. “Twelve-fifty, if you must know, but that’s not the point.”

  He felt himself grinning. This was what he’d liked in the coffee shop. She wasn’t afraid to push back. She wasn’t afraid to challenge him. “What is the point?”

  “I have a plan. I have school obligations and employment obligations and charitable obligations that I will meet. I have to start organizing the back-to-school drive now. I can’t drop everything just to nanny your niece. You’ll find a perfectly qualified nanny, I’m sure.”

  “I already have.”

  “No, Mr. Longmire.”

  He did some quick calculations in his head. He had to keep her here with him. He needed her in a way he’d never needed any other woman. Everyone had a breaking point. Where was hers?

  “I will personally call your professor and explain that you’ve been selected for a unique opportunity.”

  Her eyes flew wide in disbelief. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Obviously you’ll finish your degree, but you’ll need to stay here during the month. Sleep here.”

  “Excuse me?” She looked indignant. The baby, who had actually stopped crying and was possibly asleep, startled and began to make mewing noises.

  “I’ll pay you five thousand dollars for one month.”

  Whatever biting rejection she’d been about to say died in a gurgling noise in the back of her throat. “What?”

  “One month. I can probably find another nanny in that amount of time, but I need you now.”

  “Mr. Longmire—”

  “Nate.”

  “Mister Longmire,” she went on with whispered emphasis. The baby mewed again. Without appearing to think about it, Trish stood and began rocking from side to side.

  Yeah, he was looking at his nanny. “One month. A temporary nanny position.”

  “I’ll lose my lease. I’m—I can’t afford much. My landlord wants me out so she can triple the rent.”

  “Ten thousand.”

  All the blood drained out of her face, but she didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Ms. Hunter. Ten grand could get you set up in a nice apartment. For one month of teaching me how to care for my niece and helping me find a more permanent nanny. I’d hazard a guess that you’d be moving out of that apartment after graduation, anyway. This can be the nanny plan. Just a slight change to your original plan.”

  Her mouth opened. “A slight change?”

  Which was not a no, but also wasn’t an agreement to his terms. Where was her breaking point? Then it hit him. The charity.

  “Twenty thousand,” he said, impulsively doubling the salary. Let’s see her say no to that, he thought. “In addition to that salary, I’m prepared to make a donation to the One Child, One...whatever it was. One hundred thousand dollars.”

  Trish collapsed back into the seat, which jostled the baby. She quickly stood again, but instead of rocking from side to side, she turned and walked to the window. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “I can and I will.” She didn’t reply. He realized she wasn’t necessarily playing hardball with him, but what the hell did a couple hundred grand mean to him? Nothing. He’d never even miss it, but he might change her life. “Fine. Two-fifty. My final offer.”

  “Two...fifty?” She sounded like she was being strangled.

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to your very worthy charity, to be paid half now, half at the end of the month, provided you stay here, handle the night feedings and whatever else has Jane up every two hours, and teach me how to do some of the basics.”

  “And...hire a permanent replacement?”

  He had her then. She couldn’t say no to that kind of cash and they both knew it. “That’s the plan, yes.”

  She didn’t reply and he let the silence stretch. Final offers and all that.

  He watched her as she thought it over. She was gently rocking from side to side and he could see the top of Jane’s fuzzy little head over Trish’s shoulder. It looked...something in his chest clenched. It was probably just the sleep deprivation but, Trish standing at the window, soothing the baby—it looked right, somehow.

  Was he really doing this—convincing this beautiful woman to stay here, with him? To sleep under the same roof with him? What the hell? He’d wanted to ask her out, not move her in. Still, if she were living in his house...

  Stay, he thought. Stay here. With me.

  “This...” She took an exceptionally deep breath. “This generous donation—it’s not contingent upon anything else?”

  “Such as?”

  “I can’t sleep with you.”

  He l
et out a bark of a laugh, which caused her to half turn and shush him. “Do I look that bad?”

  “I didn’t mean to offend.” Her gaze flicked over him again and he simultaneously remembered the sad state of his shirt and that earlier she’d decreed he was attractive. Incredibly attractive. He sat up a little straighter. “It’s just that...I don’t sleep with anyone.”

  That seems a crying shame.

  The words waltzed right up to the tip of his tongue, but even in his sleep-deprived state, he knew better than to say them out loud.

  She looked down at Jane’s head. “I’ve raised so many babies already. Whatever money doesn’t go to the charity directly goes to support my siblings. My youngest sister is nine. And I...” She sighed and looked out the window. The fog was starting to roll in. “I want her to have more than two pencils.”

  She turned back to him, determination blazing in her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your generous offer, but there’s more that I can do than change diapers and make bottles. I know exactly what sacrifices it takes to raise a child and I...” She glanced down at the baby in her arms and sighed heavily. “I’m not ready to make those sacrifices again. Not just yet.”

  “One month. That’s all I need, Trish. And it’s not contingent upon you sleeping with me.” She raised her eyebrow at him, as if she doubted his resolve. “I give you my word of honor. Sex is not a part of the plan.” He wasn’t terribly good at seduction, anyway.

  However, there was nothing in their bargain that ruled out him asking for a date after the month was up.

  She got a weird look on her face, like she was trying not to smile and not quite making it.

  “I just—look,” he stammered, trying to recover. “I just need...you. You’re perfect.”

  From this angle—the warming light coming through the window, her face half-turned to him—he couldn’t tell if she was blushing or not. But she dropped her gaze and said, “One month. No sex.”

  “Twenty grand payment for you and two hundred fifty thousand dollars to your charity. Agreed.”

  She exhaled. “I want it in writing.”

  “Done. By tomorrow. But...”

  “But what?”

  “Will you stay tonight?” The words felt foreign on his tongue. He didn’t ask women to stay over, not since the thing with Diana had wound up in court.

  Her mouth—her deep pink lips—opened and shut before they opened again. “I have to get my things.“

  A spike of panic hammered into Nate’s head. “What if she wakes up? While you’re gone?”

  “I won’t be long. Here. Sit in the chair.” She motioned toward the seat she’d just left. “I’ll put her on your chest and she’ll probably sleep for a few hours. Maybe you can get some sleep, too.” She gave him a sly grin. “You look like you need it.”

  Was that flirting? Sex might not be part of the plan, but flirting was still on the table?

  The power had shifted between them again. He held the money, but she had all the know-how. He did as she said, kicking his feet up onto the footstool and settling back into the chair.

  She carefully placed Jane on his chest and again guided his arms around the baby until he was holding Jane tightly. Trish’s touch—her fingers moving over his muscles—was warm, strong, soft.

  He was not going to sleep with her. But it would be helpful in accomplishing that noble goal if she didn’t touch him. “What if I drop her?” he whispered as Trish’s fingers trailed off his forearms, searing him with her warmth.

  “You won’t.” She was close to him then, almost close enough to kiss. But he’d just promised—no funny business. She patted the baby’s head. “I’ll be back. If she wakes up, just sing to her, okay?”

  “Hurry,” he told her, trying to sound as if this were all no big deal. “Take a cab. I’ll pay for it.”

  There was a moment when their gazes met—a moment when something shifted between them. She looked down at him with a mixture of confusion and...tenderness?

  Then she was gone, walking out the door and hurrying away.

  He prayed she’d come back.

  He couldn’t do this without her.

  Three

  “What the hell am I doing?”

  “Sorry?” the cabbie asked in a heavily accented voice.

  “Oh—nothing,” Trish mumbled, turning her attention back out the window. She had only been in cabs a few times, when going to a symposium with a professor or something. Single travelers probably didn’t randomly mutter to themselves.

  But, seriously—what the hell was she doing? Moving in with a hot, sweet, rich man to take care of his niece? During the last month of her collegiate career? While she was supposed to be organizing the back-to-school drive?

  For how much money?

  Trish realized she was looking at her fingers, which were slowly counting off the twenty thousand dollars she was going to earn. She ran out of fingers and started over. That was five thousand dollars a week. A week! She didn’t earn that much in five months with two jobs.

  Twenty grand. That was more than she made in a year, if she didn’t count the scholarships—which she tended not to do, since the scholarships didn’t buy food or keep the lights on.

  And Longmire—Nate—had just thrown that number out.

  Along with that other number. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.

  Trish stared at her fingers, trying to process the magnitude of that number. Good lord, what her charity could do with that kind of money! New backpacks, shoes and winter coats for every kid on the rez and possibly a few other rezs as well. She could get new sports equipment and fund the afternoon snack in the schools and maybe even get some computers.

  It was like a dream come true. Even the part where the hot, rich man was asking her to basically live with him. That was definitely the stuff of dreams. Her dreams, to be specific.

  She pinched herself, just to be sure.

  The cab pulled up in front of her apartment. “Wait, please,” she requested as she got out. The landlady was sitting on her porch, making her disgust for Trish obvious. “Hello, Mrs. Chan,” Trish said.

  “You leaving?” Mrs. Chan demanded. It was her usual greeting. “You not leaving, you pay more rent. I get $1,900 a month for such nice place, but you only pay me $350.”

  “Yes, that was the lease we signed,” Trish replied. “You get another $450 from the government.” Mrs. Chan’s “nice place” was a five-hundred-square-foot “garden apartment,” which was another way of saying “one step above a root cellar”—only mustier. It’d been furnished, which was helpful when a girl couldn’t afford even thrift-store furniture and had no way to get it home, anyway, but it was a combo living-bedroom and bathroom-kitchen. Two rooms in a hole in the ground. Not exactly the lap of luxury and nothing like Nate’s elegant Victorian.

  But, thanks to the subsidies, it’d been a place Trish could afford and it’d been her own. For the first time in her life, she hadn’t had to wait for a bathroom and hadn’t had at least two other kids in her bed with her. It hadn’t been freezing in the winter and the water always worked. For the past five glorious years, she’d been able to breathe.

  “You should pay more,” Mrs. Chan sniffed. “My daughter—a lawyer—says so.” This conversation happened on autopilot.

  “Mrs. Chan, you get your wish today.”

  “What?” The older lady sat up straight and suddenly a bright smile graced her face. “You leaving?”

  “I’m leaving. I have a...” She didn’t know how to describe the situation. “I have a new place.”

  “You leave now?”

  Trish turned back to where the cab was waiting. It felt too decadent, letting the meter run. “Yup. Right now. I just came back for my things.”

  “Oh, my.” Honest to God, Mrs. Chan batt
ed her eyelashes at Trish. “You such a sweet girl. I always like you.”

  Trish managed not to roll her eyes, but it took a lot of effort. “Can I get my deposit?”

  Some of the sweetness bled out of Mrs. Chan’s face. It wasn’t like Trish needed the money right now—how weird was it to think that?—but she couldn’t not get it. It was her $350. Getting the deposit money scraped together had practically taken an act of God—and a favor from her stepfather. She could pay him back now.

  “I mail to you,” Mrs. Chan finally said.

  “Fine. I’ll leave my address. I have to go pack.”

  She unlocked her door as Mrs. Chan rhapsodized about how Trish was “such a sweet girl.” This wouldn’t take long. She had no furniture to move—even the coffeepot that was possibly as old as she was had come with the apartment.

  She started shoving clothes into laundry bags. The books took several trips and then the only thing left was her one true luxury—a laptop. True, it was an old laptop. She didn’t particularly like to pull it out when there were people around because the last thing she needed were more funny looks.

  But it was a computer and she owned it free and clear and that was what counted.

  Forty minutes was all it took to erase the signs of her five years in this dank little apartment. The cabbie helped her load the last bag into his trunk and then they were off, back to the historical Victorian that contained a billionaire and a baby.

  There was no going back. Mrs. Chan wouldn’t let her come back, not without another grand in rent money every month. Trish was committed now.

  The enormity of what she was doing hit her again. Oh, God. She was moving in. With Nate Longmire. Who was out of her league and yet also adorably clueless about small children.

  Instead of panicking, she forced herself to make a list. She had so much to do. Explain what had happened to her bosses. Call home and make sure her mom had her new address. Finish her degree.

  Live under the same roof as Nate Longmire. He who promised not to sleep with her.

  Which was just fine. She did not want to be seduced. Not in the least. Seduction always came with the risk of pregnancy and that was a risk she was not willing to take.