The Nanny Plan

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “Insane amounts of money,” she added. “Both in salary and in donations. That was the deal. I won’t take your money and run.”

  “The deal was we didn’t sleep together. And now we have. The deal is open for renegotiation.”

  A wary look crossed her face. “How do you mean?”

  “Look, I’m going to be honest. I like you. A lot. And I really enjoyed last night. You were amazing and it’s going to be hard to look at you every day and not want to take you to bed every night.”

  She didn’t immediately respond, which made him pretty sure those weren’t the right words. The fact that he was making even a little bit of sense was a minor miracle, when all he really wanted to do was deposit this sleepy baby back in her crib and curl his body around Trish’s and sleep for another five or six hours.

  He probably should tell her that hey, one-night stands were fine and she knew where he was if she wanted another fun night in the sack—he should keep himself walled off, above the situation, just like he always did when he was out of his league.

  But instead, no—he was laying it all on the line because, damn it, he liked her, he trusted her and, by God, she was someone he could fall for, too. For the first time in five years, waking up alone had bothered him. He’d wanted to see her face when he opened his eyes, to kiss her mouth awake.

  He didn’t want a casual one-night stand or even a casual one-week stand. It wasn’t like he wanted to marry her or anything. He wasn’t that old-fashioned. But he wanted something...in between.

  He wanted a relationship.

  From behind them, a buzzer sounded. “That’s the rolls.” He stood up, jostling Jane back from her semistupor as he handed the baby to Trish. “I’ll be right back.”

  The rolls were slightly underdone, but that was good enough. He didn’t want to stand in this kitchen for five more minutes while she was out there, talking herself out of another night of passionate sex with him. So he plated up the food and loaded everything onto the tray and tried his damnedest not to run right back to her.

  If it came down to it, could he not touch her for another three weeks? He’d made it five years without taking a lover. Surely he could keep his hands—and other parts—occupied for another measly twenty-one days?

  Jane had perked up a bit and Trish was singing and using the baby’s chubby little legs to act out the song. It was a perfect image of what a family—his family—could be. Was it wrong to want more mornings like this? Breakfast on the patio, just the three of them?

  He set the tray down and ate his breakfast while he waited. He’d respect her decision. He had no choice, because she was right. It would be hard on the baby if she left. It’d be hard on him, too, but he was a grown-ass man. He’d deal. Jane just needed more stability at this point in her life.

  So this was parenthood, he realized as he burned the roof of his mouth on a roll. Putting the baby’s needs ahead of his own.

  Stupid maturity.

  Finally, after what seemed like ninety-nine verses, the song ended. Nate watched the two of them together. Jane clearly adored Trish—he hoped that, wherever she was, Elena would approve of his choice for a nanny.

  And Trish was smiling down into Jane’s face as if she really did care for the girl. Was it wrong to be attracted to a woman who would care so much for a child that had no connection to her?

  Trish lifted her head and caught him staring. Her warm smile faded beneath a look of pensiveness. “How are the rolls?”

  “Hot.”

  She managed a smirk so small, he almost missed it. “Shocking, that.”

  He forced himself to grin. “Come to any decisions over there?”

  Jane squealed and tried to grab a roll. “I think,” Trish said, capturing Jane’s little fingers before they could get burned, “that we should finish this conversation during naptime.”

  That was a perfectly reasonable thing to say—after all, there was something a little weird about discussing sex with a baby around—but it still left him disappointed.

  Jane trilled again.

  “Right. Naptime. Looking forward to it.”

  * * *

  Trish hesitated in the doorway of the parlor long enough that Nate looked up from the book he was reading. “She go to sleep okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Nate was sitting on one end of the couch, close to the leather chair. She could either sit in the leather chair or next to him.

  He closed his book and waited for her to make her choice.

  So she stood. “I feel like I owe you an apology,” she said. “I’ve never had an affair before. I don’t feel like I’m handling myself very well.”

  “An affair. Is that what this is?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Right now it’s closer to a one-night stand. Without the standing,” he added as her cheeks heated. “An affair implies more than one night together.”

  “Oh, okay.” Right. She couldn’t even get her terminology right. Yeah, she was pretty bad at this. “About that.” She forced herself to take another step into the room.

  “Yes?” He sat up and, putting the book aside, leaned forward. But he didn’t come toward her, he didn’t sweep her into his arms and say the kinds of things that might weaken her resolve. He just waited for her to choose.

  “I’d like—I mean, I think I’d like to, you know, maybe have an affair.” Calling it an affair made it sound sophisticated and glamorous—nothing like the wild, indiscriminate coupling her mother engaged in. Trish was a responsible woman who could have an affair with a handsome, wealthy, powerful man without losing her head—or her heart.

  She hoped.

  The corner of his mouth crooked up. “You don’t sound certain.”

  “I just want to make sure things don’t get complicated. Messy,” she explained.

  “You don’t want to fall,” he clarified for her. The way he said it made her feel like she’d rejected him, which didn’t make a lot of sense.

  Wasn’t she agreeing to the affair? How was that rejecting him? He didn’t expect her to fawn over him, did he? “I don’t want to fall,” she said firmly. She could do this—indulge in a little passion without losing herself. She would not fall.

  Falling in love with Nate Longmire was not a part of the plan.

  “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “You have?”

  He nodded and stood. “Just you and me and a casual affair.”

  Casual. That was both the right word and not at all. “How would we do that?”

  “We could have some...rules. Guidelines, if you will. No spending the night, no funny business when Jane is awake—”

  “Right. Guidelines.” She liked the sound of that. Boundaries. Like the three weeks they had left. That was a boundary that would keep her from falling in a very real way. Nate would hire another nanny and Trish would move out and that space—that would keep her from falling. It had to. “Nothing in front of Rosita or Stanley or anyone. And no seeing other people while we’re being casual, right?”

  “Sure.” He grinned at her. “I doubt either of us would have, anyway.”

  “I suppose not.” She felt herself exhale a little. She knew she wasn’t doing a bang-up job at this, but it didn’t appear she was botching it beyond all hope. “What else?”

  “Just this.” Suddenly, Nate was moving, his long legs closing the distance between them and his hands cupping her cheeks. He was kissing her so hard that her knees didn’t entirely hold her up. “Just that I’m glad you said yes,” he whispered against her mouth.

  “Oh, Nate,” she breathed as his lips trailed down her neck. This desire she felt—this need—surely this wasn’t a bad thing, right? This wasn’t the kind of thing that was going to push everything she’d ever worked for aside. Right?

 
They had guidelines to help keep everything from spiraling out of control. She could have an affair with Nate, enjoy being with him and sleeping with him.

  And she would do it without falling.

  * * *

  They settled into a routine after that. Trish couldn’t bring herself to sleep with Nate when Jane was down for a nap, but that didn’t stop her from kissing him. She’d never even made out before, so just tangling up with Nate on the couch or against the counter in the kitchen, or when they caught each other on the stairs—anywhere, really, where Rosita wouldn’t walk in on them—was a gift. A gift that left her in a near-constant state of arousal.

  So by the time she closed Jane’s door for the night, Trish could hardly wait to get her hands on him.

  And he was ready for her. Instead of the leisurely kissing and touching that happened during the day, they would rip off each other’s clothes and fall into bed as fast as they could.

  Nate did not disappoint. The more they made love, the better it got. After the first week, when he’d introduced her to most of the basics, he started asking her what she wanted—what she’d always wanted to try, what she was curious about. For so long, Trish hadn’t even acknowledged that she had sexual desires—if she didn’t cop to them, then she didn’t really have them. So suddenly to have a man who not only was interested in her, but also interested in making sure her fantasies were fulfilled was sometimes more than she could handle. It took her three days to admit that she wanted to go down on him—in the shower. Which he was more than happy to help her try out.

  Nate didn’t push her, though. And he didn’t complain when, after they were panting and sated, she gathered up her clothes and went back to her own bedroom.

  Which got harder every night. The more time they spent in each other’s arms, the more she wanted to wake up in his arms.

  And the more she wanted to do that, the more she had to go back to her side of the hallway. Because she knew what was happening.

  Despite the guidelines, despite the routine—despite it all—she was falling for him. And that scared the hell out of her.

  Because there was only a week to go until her time was up.

  She had no idea how she was going to leave.

  Twelve

  Trish turned to him as the door shut behind the third and final nanny candidate, a squat Polish grandmother with impeccable references. The first candidate was a middle-aged former receptionist who’d been laid off in the Great Recession and the second was a young woman about Trish’s age who just “loved kids!”—as she so enthusiastically phrased it.

  “Well?” Trish said, leaning against the closed door with her hands behind her back. “What did you think?”

  “I think I should hire you to do all my interviews,” Nate said, moving in on her and pinning her to the door with a kiss. She’d grilled each woman on schedules, sleeping philosophies and life-saving qualifications. All Nate had had to do was watch. “You’re ruthless.”

  “I just want the best for Jane.” She pushed him back, but she was smiling as she did it. “Rosita will see us,” she scolded quietly.

  “I don’t care.” And he didn’t. It was Friday. He only had Trish here for another three days. Monday morning, the new nanny would start. Trish would move out. She’d come back to help settle the new nanny into the routine on Wednesday, if needed, but that was it.

  He kissed her again, feeling her body respond to his. Three more days of feeling her tongue tracing his lips, her body molding itself to his. And then...

  She pushed him back again. “Nate,” she said in her most disapproving voice, even as her fingers fluttered over his shoulders. “Focus. You need to pick a new nanny from the three candidates.”

  “Do I have to?”

  She gave him a look. He knew he sounded childish, but picking a new nanny put him that much closer to not having Trish around anymore. If there were any way to stall hiring her replacement, she’d have to stay, right?

  Because he wanted her to stay.

  He and Trish had not spent a great deal of time talking about what happened next. He wanted to keep seeing her, obviously. The past month had been something he hadn’t even allowed himself to dream of. The sex was amazing, sure, but what he felt for her went beyond the physical. He connected with her in a way that he hadn’t connected with another woman—another person—since he’d fallen for Diana almost ten years ago. This time, he was older, smarter—more ready for it. This wasn’t a casual affair, not anymore. This was a relationship—the one he wanted.

  Yes, they’d had these guidelines that were supposed to keep her from falling for him. Unfortunately, nothing had prevented him from falling for her.

  Because he’d fallen, hard. Unlike when he’d met Diana, Nate knew he wasn’t with Trish just because she was the best he thought he could do. He wasn’t the same insecure geek he’d been back in college. He could have his pick of women, if he really wanted to. They’d line up for him, starting with Lola Finklestein.

  That wasn’t what he wanted. He just wanted Trish. He missed her like hell when she was in class every Tuesday and Thursday and it no longer had to do with his panic over Jane. He could take care of Jane now. He’d learned her different noises and her likes and dislikes and he was doing a passable job at changing diapers—all because Trish had patiently walked him through the ins and outs of basic fatherhood.

  He wanted to be a better man for her. Every night he tried to show her how much he cared for her, how much he wanted her to stay with him. And every night, she slipped away from him again.

  When he tried to bring up the prospect of dating, she kept shutting down on him. He knew that she had made arrangements to crash with a friend for the remaining week and a half until she graduated, and then she planned to go home and see her family for a while. But beyond that...

  “You pick,” he told her as he traced his fingertips down her cheek. “I trust your opinion.”

  “Nate. You have to pick. I’m—”

  “Señor Nate?” Rosita called from the kitchen. “I am going to do the shopping.” Nate stepped clear of Trish just as Rosita walked out of the kitchen, her purse on her arm. “Is there anything that...” Her eyes darted between Trish and Nate. “Ah, anything you want?” she finished in a suspicious voice.

  “No. You?” he asked Trish.

  “Maybe another box of those teething biscuits Jane likes?” Trish suggested. She managed to sound perfectly normal, but she couldn’t stop the blush.

  “Sí,” Rosita said, a look Nate couldn’t quite make out on her face.

  Trish stepped away from the door so Rosita could pass. Nate caught the small smile Rosita threw to Trish, and then the housekeeper was out the door. “What was that about?”

  “I think we’ve been busted.” Trish frowned at the closed door.

  “Does that mean we don’t have to sneak around anymore?” As he said it, he moved back to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on the top of her head. They stood like that for a while, just enjoying each other’s warmth. They had time. Jane was still down for her nap. And later, they’d load her into the stroller and go for a walk. Then, tonight, she’d come to his bed again.

  It was a damn good life. One he didn’t want to end. Not in three days, not in three months. Maybe not in forever.

  He had to find a way to make her stay. The sooner, the better.

  “Nate.” She looked up at him and rested the tips of her fingers just above the line of his stubble. “You have to decide. Not me, not Stanley and not Rosita. You. It’s your choice.”

  Suddenly, he didn’t know if they were talking about the three nanny candidates or if she was talking about them.

  “I already found the perfect woman,” he told her, tightening his arms around her. “You.” He took a deep breath. This was the moment.
He wasn’t going to let her slip away from him. He needed her. “You should stay.”

  She tensed in his arms. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Why not?” She started to slip out of his grasp, but this time, he didn’t let her go. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Trish. Look at me.”

  Almost as if she was doing so against her will, she raised her gaze to meet his. He was surprised to see that she looked...afraid?

  He was all in. “I want you to stay.”

  “I can’t,” she said in such a quiet whisper that he barely heard her. “Oh, Nate—don’t ask me this. I can’t.”

  “Why not?” he demanded. “Jane loves you,” She sucked in a hard breath and her eyes began to shine with wetness. “I’m falling in love with you,” he went on. “You fit here.”

  “No, I don’t. Can’t you see?” She laughed, a sharp thing that cut him. “I grew up in a three-room house with mold growing up the walls and electricity that only worked some of the time. I slept in a bed with two or three little kids my entire life. We didn’t have food. We didn’t have things.” She waved her hands around her, at all the nice things he had. “And now? I’m still so poor that I buy all my clothes from a thrift store and before I moved in here, I lived on ramen noodles and generic cereal—that I ate dry because I couldn’t afford milk. I do not fit here.” Her voice dropped. “I don’t fit you, Nate. Not really. This was...an affair. A casual affair between two people living in forced proximity. That’s—” Her voice caught. “That’s all this was.”

  “No, it wasn’t. You fit me,” he said, beginning to feel desperate. “You fit me, Trish. We can change everything else. Anything you want. Name it. I won’t let you go back to living on the edge like that. Not when I can take care of you. Not when I need you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I need you, Trish.”

  “You need—” She gulped. “You need a nanny.”