The Nanny Plan

by Sarah M. Anderson

  He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Where was she? He hadn’t heard Jane crying.

  He slipped his briefs back on and silently opened his door. Both Jane’s door and Trish’s were shut.

  Maybe she’d fallen asleep in the glider, he reasoned. Both she and the baby had passed out and that’s why she hadn’t come back.

  He tiptoed across the hall and opened Jane’s door. The glider was empty and the little girl was in her crib, making those noises that Trish had promised him were perfectly normal for babies to make.

  Which meant only one thing. Trish had gone to bed. Alone.

  He backed out of the nursery and closed the door. Then he looked at Trish’s door. He could knock but the hint was not-so-subtle. She’d gone back to her own room instead of his.

  He ran through the evening’s events. He hadn’t cornered her, hadn’t pressured her. She’d come to him of her own accord. She’d started it—he’d finished it, though.

  Foreplay? Check. Orgasms? Double check. Cuddling? A little, right until the baby cried. All good things—unless...

  Unless she’d changed her mind—about him, about sex, about sex with him.

  Well, he wasn’t going to figure out this puzzle standing in the hallway in nothing but a pair of shorts in the middle of the night.

  But tomorrow, he and Trish were going to talk.

  * * *

  Trish heard Nate’s door open, heard Jane’s door open. Oh, God—he was looking for her. Would he come to her door, begging her to come back to his bed?

  She curled herself around her pillow, willing him not to. She had to be stronger than this. She had to hold herself back from him and that was going to be damnably hard at—she checked the clock—three thirty-seven in the morning.

  Go back to bed, she mentally screamed into the night. Don’t come in here.

  Jane’s door whispered shut. Trish heard Nate take a footstep toward her room, then another. She tensed with fear—or need. Her brain was shouting, no! while her body, her traitorous body, was already clamoring for his touch. Trish was this close to throwing the covers off and flinging open her door and rushing into his arms.

  She had to be stronger. She was stronger, by God.

  The footsteps stopped. The house was silent. She pictured Nate standing on the other side of her bedroom door—so close, yet so very far away.

  Then, just when she couldn’t stand it another second—she had to go to him—she heard him walking again. His footsteps grew more distant, and then his door shut.

  She should have been relieved.

  Why did she feel like crying?

  * * *

  Trish felt like hell. She supposed that was to be expected. Her body was punishing her for her late-night activities in ways that made regular old sleep deprivation look like a cakewalk.

  Somehow, Trish got the bottle made and the coffee started. She didn’t even bother to attempt breakfast. Her stomach was so nervous at the thought of Nate coming downstairs and—well, even looking at her would be bad enough. Talking would be sheer torture. Yeah, there was no way she could handle breakfast at this point.

  The morning was hazy with fog, but Trish decided to sit out on the patio with Jane, anyway. Fresh air and all that.

  Plus, it put a little more space between her and Nate. And maybe she could come up with a way to not throw everything she’d ever worked for away because of him.

  Jane was fussy, which helped. Trish focused on the girl with everything she had. Jane was why Trish was here. Jane was why she needed to stay. Not because of Nate.

  She really did need to finish the month, she thought as she held Jane’s bottle for her. For one thing, the poor girl had been through a lot and was just getting settled into her routine. It would be another setback for her if Trish just up and left.

  And for another, there was the money. The other reason she was doing this. Nate was going to fund One Child, One World for the foreseeable future. She could not tuck tail and run just because she could fall in love with him.

  She could not fall in love with him.

  The idea was so crazy that she started laughing. Would it be possible to not fall for him? That was where her mother always screwed up. If she’d just wanted the sex, that would have been one thing. The trouble came when she fell in love with whatever man she had and refused to let him go, no matter what common sense dictated.

  Maybe Trish could take the sex and leave the love. After all, she’d spent the past few decades not allowing herself to get close to anyone. And, up until the moment she met Nate, she’d been very good at it.

  She could enjoy Nate, safely, and not love him. She could refuse to give into the madness that had ruled her mother. It would be—well, it’d be physical. Short-term and very physical. But nothing more.

  Could she do that?

  Behind her, she heard him in the kitchen. Unconsciously, she tensed, which made Jane pop off her bottle and start to whimper. “Oh, now,” she soothed, getting Jane to take her bottle again. “None of that. That’s my good girl.”

  Pots and pans rattled. He was making breakfast. He was just too damn nice, that was the problem. Too damn perfect. This would be so much easier if he’d been a royal ass, or a really lousy lover or just a horrible person all the way around. Was that too much to ask, for him to be awful? Because that was the kind of man who didn’t interest her at all. That was the kind of man she’d never tumble into bed with.

  How was she supposed to even look at him this morning? After what she’d done to him? And especially after what he’d done to her?

  This was the awkward part of being a twenty-five-year-old virgin. Everyone else in the world had figured out how to handle the post-hookup interactions back in college. They either left afterward or slipped out of bed in the morning or...or she didn’t know what. They probably never had to sit around, playing with a baby while their lovers made them breakfast.

  Life was so much easier without sex in it.

  But what could she do? Nothing. It’s not like she could wander off into the fog with a baby in her arms to avoid talking to him. She had to sit here and deal with this like a grown-up, because that’s what she was.

  Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, she heard the patio door slide open and felt Nate walk out. “Good morning,” he said as he set his coffee cup on the table. No tray—no breakfast.

  “Hi,” she got out. It sounded weaker than she wanted it to, damn it all.

  He leaned over and kissed Jane’s head, then turned and made eye contact with her. He held it for just a beat too long and panic flared up in her stomach. Was he going to kiss her? Yell at her? What was happening here?

  Then he turned back and shut the patio door. “Not much of a view this morning,” he said in a casual voice.

  “The fresh air feels good.” Were they going to pretend it hadn’t happened? “Um, thank you for making breakfast.”

  “Rosita left homemade pecan rolls in the fridge. They’re still baking. And you made the coffee. It was the least I could do.” He settled into his chair and, thankfully, turned his gaze toward the wall of fog, his mug clutched between his hands as if it were a shield. “You didn’t come back to bed last night,” he said in a quiet voice.

  Trish swallowed. She didn’t know why this was so hard. She’d been a practicing grown-up since she’d been—what, five? She’d stared down hard men and defended her siblings and done everything in her power to escape the life her mother had. She could do this. She could have a completely rational conversation with a man she really, really liked who’d seen her naked. No sweat.

  “Jane’s teething. I got up several times. I didn’t want to wake you up. One of us should sleep,” she added weakly. Then she mentally kicked herself. Stop sounding weak! She was not weak!

  “Ah,” he said, in that same qui
et voice. “I thought...I thought it might have been something to do with me. With something I did. Or didn’t do.”

  She blinked at him. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...”

  Words would be great. If only she had some.

  “If I did something that you didn’t like,” he went on, “you can tell me. I promise, my ego can handle it.”

  But I don’t know if I can handle it, she thought.

  He sipped his coffee, patiently waiting for a reply from her. But then Jane pushed her bottle away and stretched her plump little arms over her head and began to whine and Trish was thankful for the distraction.

  “Here,” Nate said as Trish started to maneuver Jane onto her shoulder. “I’ve got her.”

  He got up and lifted Jane into his arms and began to rhythmically pat her on the back. He didn’t sit back down, though. He went and stood at the edge of the patio, a few feet farther away from Trish.

  He was over there thinking he’d been a lousy lover when the truth was, he’d been amazing. Trish stared into the fog, trying to pretend she wasn’t about to say this out loud. “Actually, it was amazing. I didn’t think it’d be that good.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pause before he continued patting and rocking Jane. “Oh? Well. Good to know.” He was trying to sound casual, but she could tell he was smiling, just by the tone of his voice.

  Last weekend, she’d sat on this porch and decided not to tell him why she was so good with kids and why she wouldn’t sleep with him. He hadn’t needed to know, she’d rationalized then.

  But now? After what they’d shared? “You want to hear the whole story?”

  “I want to understand you.”

  Heat flooded her body and that tingling sensation tightened across her lower back again. This man seriously needed some flaws and fast.

  “My father—or the man I think of as my father—left when I was four. My brothers Johnny and Danny were two and one, so I suppose that he might not have been my real father. But he’s who I remember.” She did manage to look at him. “They both joined the army the moment they were eligible. Johnny’s down at Fort Hood and Danny’s done a tour of Afghanistan.”

  “Then what happened?”

  Trish closed her eyes. She could still feel the weight of Jane’s small body against hers. Just like all the other small bodies that had lain in her arms. “There was a gap of about three years. I think my mom was trying, I really do. I remember being home alone a lot with Johnny and Danny. I got pretty good at opening cans and heating them up so we’d all have something to eat. Then, when I was seven, Clint happened.”

  “I take it that was not a good thing.”

  “Nope. Mom got pregnant again and...” she sighed, pushing back on the memory. “Mom had Millie but then Mom was never home so I got used to taking care of the baby. The boys started sleeping on the floor and Millie and I took the bed. Then Mom had Jeremiah. And there just wasn’t enough food. Not for five of us.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was nine. Then Mom got pregnant again. And Hailey was not a healthy baby. I wound up skipping most of my sixth-grade year to take care of her.”

  “Your mom wouldn’t take care of a sick baby? My mom quit her job teaching elementary school when we couldn’t get Joe into a stable routine at school. My grandmother thought it’d be better for all of us if we put him in an institution, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it. He was her son. It was her job to take care of him. It was all of our jobs.”

  She studied him. He really did seem pissed off at her mother. “Well, she did have a job. That helped. For a while, anyway. But no, she couldn’t take care of Hailey. She couldn’t really take care of any of us. But I could.” She looked at Jane, who was falling into a milk coma on her uncle’s shoulder. “I graduated with honors when I was twenty because of Hailey and Keith, who was born when I was fourteen. Keith...”

  “Was he okay?”

  “There was something wrong with him, with his heart. He died. When he was fourteen months old. I couldn’t save him. And I always thought, you know—if we’d been able to get to a doctor, maybe...”

  That maybe had haunted her for years. Just because, every single time her mother got knocked up by yet another man, Trish wanted to scream and cry and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing—it didn’t mean she didn’t do everything in her power to save that baby when he’d gotten here. But she’d only been fifteen. She had very little power to do anything. Including saving her little brother.

  “I’m so sorry,” Nate said. He’d grown quiet. “That must have been so hard on you.”

  Trish sniffed. “And that doesn’t count Lenny, Ricky or Patsy. I left home when Patsy was five. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done because I knew...” her words trailed off as her throat closed off. “Because I knew she’d be on her own. That I wouldn’t be there to make sure she went to school or did her homework or had a real dinner every night.”

  “And your mom?”

  “Oh, she’s fine. She got her tubes tied after Patsy because the doctors said she couldn’t have any more kids. She’s...it’s like she’s my older sister, you know? Not my mom. My flighty older sister that’s always screwing up. But the guy she’s with now, Tim, he’s a good guy. Good job, not rough. Helps take care of the kids. I hope he sticks around.”

  “Why did she do it? Why did she have so many kids when she couldn’t take care of them? Because it wasn’t fair of her to assume that you’d do it. It wasn’t fair to you.”

  “Life is not fair. It never has been and it never will be. If it was, your mom wouldn’t have had to quit to take care of your brother and Jane’s parents would be on their way to pick her up right now and...” She almost said, “Diana wouldn’t have cheated on you.” But she didn’t.

  Nate sat down in his chair, Jane cuddled against his chest. “You don’t—didn’t—sleep with people because of your mom?”

  “Yeah. She’d fall head over heels in love with some guy, have a couple of his babies, and then it’d all fall apart. I guess she thought the kids would help her hold onto a man, but it never worked that way. The funny thing is, she can’t have kids with Tim and he’s the one that’s stuck around the longest. Seven years and counting.”

  The silence settled over them. She wondered how long his folks had been together. If he’d had an older brother...maybe thirty years? Maybe more?

  “I don’t want to be like her,” Trish admitted, letting her words drift into the fog. “I don’t want to be so in love with a man, so in love with sex with a man, that it becomes my whole world. I don’t want to forget who I am. I don’t want to have to be someone else to keep a man. I can do so much good in this world, more than just changing diapers.”

  “And to do that, you didn’t get involved?”

  “No.” She swallowed, feeling unsure of herself. “It was easier that way. No distractions. I got off the rez, I got to college, I started the charity. And I...I can’t give that up.” Not even for you, she thought.

  He turned Jane around so that the little girl was sitting on his lap, facing out into the fog. Trish saw that Jane was only half-awake, her eyelids fluttering with heaviness.

  “So why didn’t you come back to bed last night?” he asked softly.

  “Because.”

  He snorted and finally turned to look at her. “That’s not much of an answer.”

  She took a deep breath, but she didn’t break his gaze. “Because I’m just the temporary nanny. I can’t stay here with you forever. I can’t give up my goals, my whole life, to play house with you. I can’t turn into my mother and—I can’t fall in love with you, Nate. I just can’t.”

  “Ah,” he exhaled, his eyebrows jumping up. “And you think that by sharing my bed you...might?”

  She thought back to the way their bodies had fit
together, how he’d made her feel alive and vibrant and perfect. How she’d wanted him again and again, how she’d felt like she was standing on the edge of a very tall cliff and all he’d have to do to get her to jump was ask.

  “I might,” she admitted.

  If I haven’t already.

  Eleven

  “So,” Nate said in a voice that sounded remarkably calm, all things considered. “How would you like to proceed?”

  “What do you mean?” Trish had turned her beautiful eyes back to the fog.

  “With your remaining time here, assuming you’d like to finish out the three weeks.”

  She dropped her chin. “I don’t want to break our deal,” she said in a quiet voice. “I gave you my word just as much as you gave me yours.”

  Yeah, and part of his word had been not sleeping with her. That had lasted all of a week. Barely eight whole days.

  He tried to think rationally, but that wasn’t working. Because, rationally, not only should he have been able to stay away from her, but he should have been able to keep staying away from her.

  He had to smile. How many other women in the world would take him to their beds and then tell him they couldn’t come back because they couldn’t risk falling for him and his billions in the bank? How many would keep their word to him?

  Not that many. Maybe not any, except for Trish.

  He ran his code as his tired brain tried to come up with a solution that didn’t involve her leaving before the rolls were done in the oven.

  “I can’t leave,” she said. “It’d be bad for Jane to go through so many caretakers so fast. She’s teething and we’re just getting into a rhythm and you don’t have anyone else lined up.”

  Can’t wasn’t the same as won’t. Can’t made it sound like he was forcing her and that was the last thing he wanted. “This is all true, but I don’t want that to be the only reason you stay.”

  “You’re paying me,” she reminded him.

  That was better, he thought. She sounded a little more like herself—more confident, more willing to push back. Trish sounding vulnerable only made him want to fold her into his arms and tell her he’d take care of everything, just so long as she stayed with him.