Читать книгу The Nanny And Her Scrooge - DeAnna Talcott - Страница 11

Jared’s statement incensed Nicki, but she waited until he’d tossed his briefcase into the back seat and got into the car before answering. “I’m not trying to do anything,” she denied. “And just call me Nicki. It’s not like we have to be formal or anything. Because I don’t work for you. Not anymore. I wouldn’t work for you if you were the last man on earth.”

He arched an eyebrow in her direction, his mouth a hard firm line as he carefully put the key into the ignition. “Look. Do you need a job or not?” he barked.

“Of course, I need a job. Everybody needs a job. To pay the bills, to make the mortgage and the car payments and to eat.”

He snagged a deep, angry breath, nearly scaring Nicki. She put her hand on the door handle, debating whether she should bolt.

“If that’s the case, then why won’t you swallow your pride and accept the one I’ve offered you?”

She slanted him a look, gauging his reaction. “Because I don’t like those hideous green tights and that goofy hat with the bells,” came her flip reply. “I’d feel like an idiot wearing that get-up.”

He sat back and considered, then his mouth twitched and the creases eased from his forehead. He actually laughed. Out loud.

The resonant sound filled the car, unexpectedly warming Nicki and putting some of her fears to rest. Okay, anybody who laughed like that couldn’t be all bad, she conceded.

He dragged a hand over his face, as if the joke were unbearable. “And you don’t feel like an idiot wearing a red velvet Santa suit, slapping a beard on your face, and shouting ho, ho, ho?” he finally asked.

He had her there, and the irony of the situation made her squirm. “Okay, I’ll admit that at the time, I figured it was worth it.”

“What?”

“The job. The money,” she explained wearily, slumping down in the plush seat. “My car died a month ago. It’s going to take a lot of money for repairs.”

“So that’s why you were stranded tonight.”

“I’ve been able to take the bus, but tonight I spent so much time in your office I missed the one at five o’clock. Since I didn’t really have anyone to call…” Nicki let the statement drift, she didn’t want to admit she couldn’t afford a cab, or didn’t have anyone to pick her up.

“So about this elf thing…” he began.

“Forget it. I already talked to the supervisor about that. The elves are typically teenagers and they only do four-hour shifts. Right now, they have too many, anyway.”

“I see.”

Nicki rubbed her arms and shrugged. “No, you don’t.”

His head swiveled and he glanced at her sharply, as if daring her to contradict him.

She gnawed on her lower lip and tried to not shiver in his presence. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was afraid of him. She wouldn’t give him that. She wouldn’t. “I needed a job where I could make some good money in a short amount of time. A good Santa makes a respectable salary, but the elves are gofers who mostly fill the candy-cane jar and make minimum wage, and salesclerks don’t make much more, so that’s out.” She stuck her hands under her arms, trying in vain to warm them. “I don’t know. The Santa pay is really good. Maybe there’s a union label sewn in the Santa suit or something.”

He paused, his features relaxing. “Cute—about the union label. But the fact is the Santa job takes a certain type of person, that’s why it pays so well.”

Nicki studied him briefly, acutely conscious that a portion of his tough-businessman facade had slipped. It made her feel as though a real man existed beneath that intimidating demeanor.

As if it had a will of its own, her hand fluttered across the empty space between them to settle apologetically on his sleeve. “I understand why you felt the way you did about having a grandpa Santa Claus,” she explained softly. “But as I mentioned earlier, I needed to get my car fixed, and I’m expecting to move. It takes money to do that. It’s that simple, really. I’m not trying to buck the system or to cause you problems or even to argue with you.”

He silently stared at her, then dropped his gaze to her fingers that still curled lightly on his forearm. Without shaking her off, he slowly started the ignition. “Why didn’t you tell me that this afternoon?”

Nicki self-consciously slid her hand away, but the feel of cashmere taunted her fingers, and the restrained power throbbing through his muscular forearm sent a surge of exhilaration to her brain. She folded her hands in her lap. “You never gave me the opportunity.”

His mouth firmed and he put the car in gear. They were inching onto the adjacent one-way street when he said, “You didn’t tell me where we were going.”

“Tammany Hills. I’m just a few doors inside the complex.” Another chill struck Nicki and she fought to repulse it. She stiffened and folded her arms across her middle, thinking she didn’t want to explain why, after six months, she still had a Florida wardrobe, a broken-down car, and a financial mess. Her mother had been so sick when she’d finally given up and called her home, all Nicki had had time to do was to care for her mom and ignore the repercussions of her abrupt move. She’d lost a ton of money and incurred a lot of expenses.

“Tammany’s a nice place,” he commented, easing onto the east-west expressway.

She shrugged and glanced out the side window at the residential area next to the highway. There were moments, such as this, when she glimpsed a decorated tree inside someone else’s living room, and felt like an orphan at Christmas. She’d always heard the first year was the worst. “Mmm. Expensive. But the lease is up in a couple of months. It was actually my mom’s place.”

“Nicki…”

She pulled her gaze away, tucking her chin to look up at Mr. Gillette. In the half light of the dash, his features were less imposing. Her eyes lowered to his mouth, and for one crazy moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. To experience an unguarded side of him. When he’d accidentally touched her—

“About today,” he went on, unknowingly interrupting her wayward thoughts, “I assumed that you were interested only in a seasonal job. Or a part-time job. If you want a real job, I could probably find you something.”

Her shoulders immediately lifted off the seat. The last thing she wanted was charity. Especially from someone who had dismissed her barely two hours before. “Oh, no. I’m not looking for a handout. You don’t have to be nice to me just because this whole situation is…well, awkward.”

“‘Nice’?” The word harshly rolled off his tongue. “Nicki, understand this, I’m not known for nice. Not even in the most awkward of business situations.”

“Well, I’ll think about it…but…” She turned back to glance out the side window again. She felt a little sad inside—and she knew it didn’t have anything to do with losing her job, or her mom, or all the rest of it. Maybe it was letting go of the illusion. Maybe it was because she was trapped inside a car with a man who obviously didn’t understand the meaning of Christmas. “You know,” she said softly, wistfully, “I really liked being a Santa Claus. I liked being with the kids—that was the best. And the fantasy—especially the one you create at Gillette’s—was all so hopeful, so innocent. Sitting there in Toyland, waving and wishing everyone a merry Christmas made me feel good inside.”

“It’s just that. A fantasy,” he said abruptly, before leaning over and turning up the heat.

Defeat spiraled through her; he didn’t even want to know how the job had affected her.

He checked his side mirror, then changed lanes, expertly maneuvering around another slower car. “I read your file this afternoon,” he said. “You apparently had a knack for making people believe.”

“Maybe I wanted to. A little Christmas gift to myself this year.”

His gaze flitted over her, but he said nothing. For a mile, they rode in silence.

Nicki was extraordinarily conscious of him. The scent clinging to his cashmere coat. The leather gloves he’d laid between them on the seat. The way he sat so straight, so erect, as he drove.

“Listen,” he said, “I live over there, off of Willow. Do you object to me stopping at home first and changing my clothes?” Nicki knew he was referring to the posh section of Winter Park. “I have to make an obligatory appearance at the Yuletide Gala tonight, at the Ritz Carlton, and I’m already late. I could drop you off on the way.”

Even though she didn’t want to spend any more time with him than necessary, Nicki was curious about where he lived. Besides, there was no sense in going home to an empty apartment any sooner than she had to. “That’s fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“As you said, Mr. Gillette, you’re the one doing me the favor.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I imagine your insolence didn’t put you in good favor with the elves. That’s probably the real reason you didn’t want to join their ranks.”

“Mr. Gillette—”

“Excuse me,” he cut in, as he smoothly pulled off the expressway and into the right-hand lane. “There is an unwritten rule…”

“Yes?”

“Anyone I invite into my home has to call me Jared.”

Nicki’s breath caught behind her breastbone. “You haven’t invited me into your home.”

He braked at the stop sign, and turned his head to look at traffic before he looked at her. “No. But I’m going to.”

The slow smile that inched onto Jared’s face sapped the remainder of Nicki’s waning strength.

Jared’s palatial home occupied at least a quarter of the block. Nicki glimpsed the front of the sprawling brick mansion when he came in off a side street and passed through the wrought-iron gates. It struck her as odd that the grounds had been exquisitely decorated for Christmas; for some reason, she didn’t think he’d bother.

Garland, with red bows, trimmed the iron fencing. A huge wreath hung over the four-car garage, and flickering candles illuminated every window in the house.

“My,” she murmured, “this is Christmas-card perfect.”

“And none of my doing,” he pointed out darkly. “It’s just another illusion I have to live with, and I promise you it’s quite unlike what you experienced as a Santa Claus in Toyland.”

Nicki didn’t have time to consider the telling statement because he led her inside through the back door and immediately steered her into the family room. She gaped up at the cathedral ceiling, and the second-floor balcony. Dwarfed by the proportions, she offhandedly guessed this one room was larger than her mother’s entire town house.

“My folks built this house, and the floor plan’s a little dated, a little cut up. But the kitchen’s through the butler’s pantry, in there,” he said. “Help yourself.”

Nicki followed the direction he indicated. She waved off his suggestion, figuring she’d get lost if she tried to negotiate one more room.

“Suit yourself,” he said, peeling off his overcoat to throw it over the back of a chair. He hit the light switch, illuminating the fireplace. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll only be a minute.”

She nodded, “Thank you.”

He took a couple of steps, then paused, fiddling with his cuff links to remove them.

Nicki glanced over at him, transfixed. There was something about a man and his cuff links…the way his fingers worked at removing them, the way he turned back the cuffs, covering the thick bones of his wrists and exposing the dark hairs across the backs of his hands. She looked up, startled to realize he’d caught her watching. An odd, almost bemused expression shadowed his gaze. He slipped the cuff links into his pants’ pocket.

“If you’re still cold, I’ve got an afghan.” He pulled a chenille throw off the leather couch.

Nicki rubbed her arms and tried to protest that she’d be fine, but for an instant she was afraid this unexpected chill of awareness didn’t have a thing to do with the cold. She was acutely conscious she was in his home, alone, with him. The man-woman thing wrought unexpected havoc with her senses.

He shook open the throw for her. “Here. I can see you don’t know how to dress for the weather.” Instead of offering it to her, he moved behind her to slide the afghan over her shoulders.

Heat seeped through the afghan, in all the places his hands had touched. Her heart yammered.

“Actually,” she said, accepting the ends from him, “these are my Florida clothes.”

“Florida?”

“Oh, long story,” she said dismissively, pulling the afghan tighter around her. “And not a particularly interesting one, not when you’re already late.”

He backed away, never taking his eyes off her. “I’ll just be a few minutes. As I said, make yourself comfortable.”

Nicki nodded and turned back into the room. She could hear his distinctive tread behind her on the carpet. When she knew he was out of the room, she walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and tried to not shiver. Garden lights illuminated a winding path off the deck. At the end of the path was a gazebo where a huge Christmas tree glittered beneath a veil of carefully spaced colored lights.

It was obvious that everything had been professionally decorated. She chuckled, in spite of herself, wondering how it must be to be Jared Gillette and have everyone provide you with a Christmas.

Turning from the window, she nearly bumped into the grand piano.

“Wow…” she whispered, trailing a hand over the gold ribbon and greenery on the top. Interspersed in the arrangement were framed photos of a wide-eyed cherub with a pouty mouth, a flirtatious brow, and a riot of long, blond hair. Nicki reached over to carefully extract a photo. This child was a darling…and she’d seen her fair share of kids the past few weeks.

She didn’t think Jared was married. Maybe a niece? Cousin? Family friend, or godchild?

Carefully placing the photo back, she strolled to the other side of the room and tarried at the fireplace mantel. Black-and-white snapshots of a younger Jared and his friends scattered the length. All were framed, many were inscribed.

She sniffed. Obviously there was a different side of Jared Gillette than she was familiar with. These snapshots made the man actually seem human.

She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. A tiny pair of baby shoes, obviously worn, the white leather creased, the toes scuffed and the laces a bit dirty. She couldn’t help it, she picked up one shoe and found an inscription in black felt-tip marker on the sole. J.G.’s 1st pair of shoes.

Jared Gillette was actually this little once? He hadn’t always been a larger-than-life tyrant?

Smiling to herself, Nicki straightened the loops on one of the bows and carefully set the shoe aside. She wandered further down the mantel and discovered a grass-stained baseball encased in a plastic cover. 1st Home Run, Little League, Jared G., Age 11. Next to it, a wooden car along with a tiny plastic trophy, also housed in a plastic case, were identified with a gold plate. 1st Place, Pinewood Derby, Winter Park Cub Scout Pack #47. Further along, there was a brown-speckled rock, an autographed Indiana University baseball schedule, and a silver baby spoon.

Nicki stood back, surveying the collection of odds and ends. Jared Gillette, she thought, this is your life. You may be a hard-nosed businessman, but you definitely have another, much more curious, dimension.

Next to the mantel were two exquisitely framed water-colors. She stood for a moment, studying them.

“Like them?” Jared asked, coming up behind her. “This was my mom’s retreat and she had only her favorite family things in here. I keep telling myself I should dump the personal stuff and stick to only a few good pieces of art.”

Nicki whirled, ashamed to be caught looking. “They’re…” The words died in her throat. The image he presented took her breath away. He was wearing a midnight-black tuxedo. He’d replaced the scarlet business tie with a crisp, formal black bow tie. His pleated dress shirt sported black studs for buttons and there were heavy gold links at his shirt cuffs. He fiddled with one link, adjusting it beneath his jacket sleeve.

Then he caught her glance and lifted a brow, offering her a mind-bending smile. “Yes?”

“The watercolors are beautiful,” she said, fighting to keep her composure. “Keep them.”

His laugh was short, brittle. “Funny. I thought you were going to say something else.”

She hesitated. “I was. Seeing you dressed up like that, reminded me of only one thing. A grinch in a penguin suit.”

His brows lifted in surprise, then he threw back his head and laughed, not the least bit irked at her audacity.

Nicki caved in and actually felt herself smiling. Then she chuckled, her laughter mingling with his in the cavernous room. She slipped the afghan from her shoulders and started to fold it, even as she shook her head, marveling at what had just transpired. “Okay. That’s good. For both of us,” she admitted, replacing the afghan on the back of the leather couch. “A little laugh at the end of a bad day. We may never be business associates, but at least we can laugh about our differences. And by the way, I’m sorry for that crack I made about not working for you if you were the last man on earth. It’s bothered me that I said that. I overreacted, and I know it.”

Jared’s laughter faded and he grew silent. His gaze settled on the top of her windblown hair, then ricocheted between her dimples. The woman had an uncanny knack for amusing him. She was bright, articulate, and remarkably attractive. On top of that, she was sincere.

“Nicki Holliday…you are the most—” The phone rang, interrupting him. He blinked. “Give me a minute…”

He picked up the phone and never had time to offer up the customary “Hello?” Sandra, his ex-wife, launched into her spiel. Even from four steps away, he guessed Nicki could hear her demanding voice. He turned his back. “Sandra…of course, I’ll take her….” While his ex-wife rambled on, Jared was vaguely conscious that Nicki had discreetly moved to the other side of the room. “Then we better do something about joint custody,” he said.

Could he actually turn this around to his advantage? He’d been waiting a long time—and patience had never been his virtue. His lawyer had predicted this day would come…. But Jared could already see through the ruse: his ex-wife was throwing up a smokescreen to get him to up the ante.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he made a snap decision. He didn’t care what it cost, he wanted his child back.

Snagging a deep breath, he wedged the phone back against his ear, to endure Sandra’s screeching. “Madison doesn’t like Howie, and they pick on each other like a couple of little kids—”

“Fine. I’ll have my lawyer contact yours tomorrow.”

“But you’re still single, Jared, and you spend all your time at that stupid store. Madison needs a real home, a feminine influence. I know you, you’ll just dump her and forget her. She needs a woman around.”

Jared’s eye fell on Nicki, and suddenly the most outrageous idea struck him. Hell, he could bend the truth a little; his ex-wife had been doing it for the past ten years. “Actually, Sandra, I’m currently involved in a very serious relationship. She’s here right now. But…look…don’t say anything to Madison, will you? I’ll tell her when the time is right.”

He was met with dead silence on the other end of the line. Finally, “You?” Sandra accused. “And another woman?”

“Not with just anyone,” he said, thinking of Nicki in a Santa suit. “This is someone who cares. Someone who loves kids. She’s a nice woman. You’d like her.”

“Well, I…”

“Sandra, look…we’ll settle this.”

“I don’t care when it’s settled,” Sandra hissed. “Because I’m sending Madison out to you. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’ll arrange for her airline ticket,” Jared said smoothly, aware Sandra didn’t spend one cent of the child support he sent her on Maddy. She spent it all on herself.

When Jared finally dropped the phone back into the cradle, disbelief washed through him. After all these years he was getting his child back. Even if it was only part-time—for now.

Across the room, Nicki, silhouetted against a wall of windows, half turned in his direction. She frowned, concern written on her features. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Never better,” he assured. He paused for a moment and straightened his jacket before moving toward Nicki. He had to make a decision and he had to make it quickly. “Would it be easier,” he asked bluntly, “for you to walk away from the Santa job, if I offered you a Santa-like job?”

She stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. You’d work here. In my home. With a pay raise substantially more than anything an elf could ever possibly make. I’d certainly match the Santa pay, and probably throw in a little extra. Actually, a lot extra.”

Surprise turned to suspicion. “Doing what?”

“Taking care of the most precocious little girl in the whole world.”

“Who?” she asked, frowning.

“My daughter. Madison.”

Nicki stalled, visibly weighing the implications. “Jared…” she said carefully, “you don’t even know me.”

“I know enough to know you’d be perfect for the job,” he stated. “And I need somebody right away. There’re twenty-nine days until Christmas, and this is not the ideal time for me to find a nanny.” He strode over to the baby grand and plucked the most whimsical portrait out of the display. He extended it to her. “Nicki, meet my daughter Madison. My ex, after two years, has decided she’s had enough. She’s giving me joint custody—and it’s the best Christmas present I could have asked for.” Jared unconsciously reached for her upper arm, persuasively squeezing it. “Nicki, think about this. You need a job, I need the help. Come on. Let’s make a deal.”