Читать книгу A Nanny Under the Mistletoe - Raye Morgan - Страница 8

Until now, Libby Bradford had never understood how it felt to be so angry you couldn’t see straight. At least being this furious kept the grief at bay. Or maybe her fear was so big there was no room for the sadness.

She stared across the utilitarian oak desk in her boss’s office. “I really need to talk to someone.”

Probably it was the thread of desperation in her voice that made Ginger Davis shut off the computer. “Just a guess, but you didn’t come to see me just to discuss the newest show at the Hard Rock Hotel. I’m listening.”

Humor normally took the edge off Libby’s intensity, but not this time. “Jess Donnelly is going to take Morgan Rose away from me.”

“The Jess Donnelly?”

“Is there another one?” Libby couldn’t imagine the world was big enough for two of him. At least not in his world. “I’m talking about Las Vegas’s most eligible and obscenely rich bachelor.”

It wasn’t often Ginger looked surprised, but she did now. An attractive, brown-eyed brunette somewhere near fifty, she could pass for twenty years younger and it would be pathetically easy for her. Maybe because she loved what she did. As president and CEO of The Nanny Network, she placed thoroughly vetted nannies with famous and wealthy families who cherished competence and confidentiality in equal parts. She had also opened Nooks and Nannies, a preschool that included child care as well as parent and caregiver enrichment classes. Libby was a teacher here.

“Now it makes sense.”

Huh?

“What makes sense?” Libby asked her boss. “His attorney called and said that when Jess has child care in place he will take custody of Morgan.”

“Mr. Donnelly contacted me about hiring a live-in nanny.”

“He did?” Fear balled in Libby’s belly.

“Yes. I explained that I recently had two of my employees leave the agency to get married.” Ginger removed her glasses. “But you didn’t come by my office to hear that I’m shorthanded.”

“Not really. It’s Morgan I’m concerned about.”

“Since Mr. Donnelly didn’t share details, I had no idea that he was looking for a nanny for your Morgan. I had the impression that your friend Charity left her daughter to you.”

Hearing her best friend’s name brought a fresh wave of sorrow that hurt Libby’s heart. Charity and her husband, Ben, had been in Africa for ten months on a humanitarian mission. They’d been killed by a rebel faction in a raid on the village where they were working.

“No one thought they wouldn’t come home.” Libby’s voice broke and she stopped, trying to manage the unmanageable emotions.

“Apparently someone thought about it. Otherwise Mr. Donnelly wouldn’t be making inquiries about child care,” Ginger gently reminded her.

If Libby had been less emotional and more rational she would have commended Morgan’s parents for taking care of the details. Except she’d fallen in love with the child she was caring for and giving her up to a man like Jess Donnelly seemed wrong on so many levels.

“Jess was named Morgan’s guardian in her parents’ will,” she finally admitted.

“I see.”

“I don’t,” Libby said, squeezing her hands together in her lap. She’d always thought this office a warm place, what with its friendly oak desk and orange and yellow wall prints. But today everything felt cold.

“Why do you question their decision?”

Libby slid forward to the edge of her chair. “Because Charity and Ben trusted me with their child when they went halfway around the world.”

Ginger’s voice was full of gentle sympathy when she asked, “Are you angry because they put a humanitarian effort ahead of their daughter’s well-being? Or because they died?”

“Both,” Libby said without thinking.

Ginger nodded. “You grew up with Charity and were best friends. You told me that her primary goal in life was to make the world a better place.”

“And isn’t that ironic? Because the world is so much worse for her not being in it.”

Libby had spent more time at Charity’s house than with her own messed-up family because there wasn’t any tension there and everyone was welcomed with open arms, accepted in a way Libby would never be where she lived. Her friend’s folks took the girls to nursing homes, hospitals and women’s shelters to give back to their community and make a difference.

“Charity was raised to help people. But now my primary concern has to be raising Morgan the way Charity would want. Her child’s welfare is the most important thing.”

“It seems to me that she’ll be well taken care of.”

Not by Jess Donnelly. The man was certainly handsome, wealthy and powerful. From firsthand experience Libby knew he was also arrogant, selfish and shallow. She’d met him the first time when Charity and Ben got married. Her attraction to him was instantaneous. The earth moved. Lightning struck. Cupid’s arrow nailed her right smack in the heart.

He’d flirted and fixed his intense blue eyes on her. His thick dark hair and Irish good looks had made quite a lasting impression. She’d have been his for the asking. But he’d never asked.

Actually, he’d left with the other blonde bridesmaid, the buxom one Libby still fondly thought of as the wedding slut. In the nearly six years since Morgan’s birth, Libby and Jess had occasionally seen each other, at Morgan’s christening, birthday parties, Christmas. Every time their paths crossed, she felt the pull of attraction even though Jess would stick out his hand and say he didn’t believe they’d met before, then proceed to introduce himself.

The first time Libby gave him the benefit of the doubt, believing a new hairdo and ten-pound weight loss made her look different. After that it became clear that her breasts just weren’t big enough to snag his attention, let alone make her name worthy of remembering.

She pushed the humiliating past from her mind and looked at Ginger. “You think he can really take care of Morgan?”

“Mr. Donnelly certainly has the means to provide for her.”

“It takes more than money to raise a child.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ginger said. “It’s too bad the two of you can’t co-parent.”

“What do you mean?”

“He has the resources, you have the heart. Seems like a partnership made in child-rearing heaven.”

Libby’s mind started to hum as an idea began to take shape. “I could be her nanny.”

Ginger stared at her. “You already work here at the preschool.”

“Which will save you time in the vetting process since I’m already a Nanny Network employee.”

Her boss frowned. “Since you have a personal history with the client, I’m not sure this would be an ideal situation.”

“I respectfully disagree. Personal history isn’t how I’d describe what we have. A handful of get-togethers over the years.” And none of them had been the least bit personal, she thought with a mixture of annoyance and yearning that annoyed her even more. “He and I both knew and cared about Morgan’s parents. She’s a child who needs all the love and support she can get right now. The last thing she needs is to be yanked away from what’s familiar and plopped into life with a stern guardian she barely knows.”

“You make it sound like a wacky version of Jane Eyre.”

“Not my intention,” Libby assured her. “Just the opposite. It seems like a win-win situation. You said yourself that with his money and my maternal skills we’d make the perfect parents.”

“That was an off-the-cuff comment.”

“But it makes sense,” Libby said, warming to the role of persuader. “You said you’re short-handed right now. This is the perfect solution. I can do double duty—take care of her for Jess and continue to teach here at the school. I’ll bring Morgan with me, just like I have been. Her routine wouldn’t change and that’s important right now.”

Ginger tapped her lip thoughtfully before saying, “There’s a certain logic to the idea that I could run by Mr. Donnelly.”

“Of course he needs to make the final decision.” Libby didn’t think that would be a problem. As long as his personal life wasn’t inconvenienced, Jess would be happy.

“This could be a short-term answer for everyone,” Ginger said cautiously.

Exactly what Libby was thinking. It was impossible for her to imagine loving Morgan any more even if she’d given birth to her. She couldn’t simply turn her over to a guy who had the sensitivity of a robot. She especially couldn’t hand vulnerable Morgan Rose to him, then walk out of her life.

If Jess approved this arrangement, it would give Libby time to figure out a long-term solution.

Jess Donnelly had agreed to be guardian of his best friend’s daughter, but he’d never thought he’d have to. Maybe he’d agreed because he never thought he’d have to. People did that all the time, never seriously entertaining the possibility that either parent would die, let alone both of them at the same time.

But the worst-case scenario had come to pass and now he was waiting for Morgan. In a few minutes the child’s current caretaker would deliver her. Negotiations between his lawyer and the Nanny Network relayed through his secretary resulted in him expecting the nanny, Elizabeth Bradford, momentarily.

He’d checked the child-care company’s references and called a random selection of current and former clients, all of whom had nothing but high praise for the professionals Ginger Davis had provided. Since he didn’t know the first thing about raising a kid, let alone a five-year-old girl, he was more than happy to defer to the kid experts.

It wasn’t that Jess didn’t like children, so much as he didn’t relish the idea of someone depending on him. He knew from firsthand experience how betrayal and disillusionment felt. It was especially unpleasant coming from the one person on the planet you counted on. This was his best friend’s kid. The friend he’d vowed to support. Always. A friend who was the brother he’d never had. Jess had promised Ben, given his word, which put the pledge firmly in sacred territory. When you watched a friend’s back, you didn’t turn your own on a sacred promise.

He blew out a long breath as the pain of loss squeezed his chest. “What the hell were you thinking, Ben? No way am I prepared for this.”

The phone rang, jarring him into action. He picked up the extension from the end table by the cream-colored sofa. “Yes?”

“Peter Sexton, Mr. Donnelly. Building security. There’s a Miss Morgan Rose Harrison to see you and Libby—”

“They’re expected,” he said. “Bring them up.”

Jess had fervently hoped the newly hired nanny would get here before Morgan so he’d have an on-site expert who could hit the ground running when he took custody of the little girl. If the nanny didn’t show up soon, he’d be calling Ms. Davis and make Nanny Network news as the first dissatisfied client putting a big fat black mark on its pristine reputation.

The doorbell sounded and since he was already standing in the two-story foyer, it took only a second to answer. A young woman and small girl stood there—Libby and Morgan.

The taller blonde was slim, blue-eyed and pretty plain. Or maybe plainly pretty. On the few occasions they’d met, he’d never been able to decide. Her shiny hair turned under and barely touched the collar of the white cotton blouse peeking from the neck of her navy sweater. Dark denim jeans did remarkable things to her hips and legs, leaving no mixed feelings about his opinion of her figure, which was firmly in the approval column.

The little, tiny blonde who clutched an old, beat-up doll to her chest had curly hair and brown eyes she’d inherited from her father as well as the hint of an indentation in her determined chin. Both blondes stared expectantly up at him.

“Hi,” he held out his hand. “Jess Donnelly.”

“We’ve met.”

“Right. How long has it been?”

“Last Christmas. Almost a year ago.”

He remembered seeing her under the mistletoe at Ben and Charity’s holiday party. It would have been so easy to catch her there and claim the kiss he’d wanted since the first time he’d seen her, but he’d deliberately let the chance slip by. Instinct said she wasn’t the sort of woman he could easily walk away from and he didn’t get involved with any other kind.

“You look great.” An understatement.

Libby glanced at the little girl for a moment. “We missed you at the memorial service.”

“Yeah.” Pain sliced through him at the reminder that his friend was gone. “I was in Europe on business and there was a snow storm. The airport was closed for two days.”

“I see.”

He couldn’t tell from her carefully neutral tone whether she did or not. Either way there was nothing he could do about that. And what really mattered was his friend’s child.

He looked down at her. “Hello, Morgan. Do you remember me?”

Her blond curls bounced when she shook her head. “Not really.”

“That’s okay,” he said, guilt twisting in his gut. “Welcome to my home.”

“Nice place,” Libby said. Something flashed quickly through her eyes before she continued in a pleasant voice, “The security gates are pretty cool and a twenty-four hour guard who used his key card to escort us to the penthouse on the top floor of the building, in the private elevator, no less, is a nice touch.”

Did he hear sarcasm in her voice? Or was the edge simply a symptom of the awkward situation? Did it matter?

“I’m glad you like it.” He looked at the child. “What did you think, Morgan?”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, looking uncertain as she stepped closer and slid her small fingers into the woman’s hand.

“Are you going to invite us in?” Libby asked.

“Of course.” Mentally he smacked his forehead as he stepped back and opened the door wider.

“Don’t forget your suitcase, Morgan,” Libby cautioned.

The little girl nodded, then took the handle of a princess-pink weekend-size bag and rolled it onto the foyer’s beige marble floor where no princess suitcase had gone before. The woman did the same with a plain black bag. For the first time he thought about the little girl’s things. Surely she had more than would fit into the two pieces of luggage just wheeled in.

Major awkward silence followed that flurry of activity as the three of them stood there. He wasn’t sure what to do next and wished again that the nanny would show up and bail him out. In the meantime he figured that a tour was in order. It’s what he normally did with a first-time female guest. Although nothing about this situation could even remotely be described as normal. And this small female would be a permanent resident, a thought that registered pretty high on his uneasiness meter.

“How about I show you around?” he offered.

“We’d like that,” Libby answered, then looked down. “What do you say, Morgan? Would you like to see your new home?”

Still clutching Libby’s hand, the little girl nodded apprehensively. The solemn look on her pale face said she liked the idea about as much as a double helping of Brussels sprouts.

“Follow me.”

He led them into the living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the extensive outdoor area. Because the penthouse was on the top floor, he had a private pool and patio with barbecue. “If you want a view of the Las Vegas strip, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I’m sure Morgan is thrilled at the idea of looking at the adult entertainment capital of the world,” Libby said wryly.

“Good point.” Another mental forehead smack.

“Although she’ll like looking at the pretty lights. Right, sweetie?” When Libby smiled at the child the tenderness in her expression was almost palpable.

“It’s pretty high up,” the little girl answered cautiously, keeping her distance from the windows.

Libby looked around the room with its dark wood tables bearing traces of European design. “The couch and chairs are very beautiful, but they look like they’ll show every spot.”

“I haven’t found it to be a problem.” He glanced at the cream-colored furniture with the overstuffed brown pillows, then at the child, the first to set foot in his place. Life as he’d known it was about to change.

Jess led them through the kitchen that included a morning room with a door onto the terrace. The spacious formal dining area held a table for eight, matching buffet and china cabinet. They walked through the large family room, past the leather corner group and plasma TV. After showing them the living room and master bedroom, he walked to the other side of the condo and pointed out Morgan’s bedroom.

“You’ll have a king-size bed and your own bathroom. What do you think?” He glanced at the little girl who was looking back at him as if he’d just beheaded her favorite doll.

“It’s awfully big.” Her mouth trembled. “What if I get lost?”

Instantly Libby went down on one knee and pulled her into a hug. The gesture was completely natural and struck him as incredibly maternal and reassuring. The way a mother should be. The way his mother had been until everything changed.

Libby tucked the child’s hair behind her ears. “It’s scary, I know. Change always is. But in time you’ll get used to it and hardly remember anything else,” she explained.

“What if I wake up and it’s dark and I get scared?”

“I’m sure Mr. Donnelly won’t mind if you leave lights on.” She looked up at him. “Right?”

“Of course.”

She gently brushed her palms up and down Morgan’s arms. “That’s an awfully big bed for a little girl. Probably he’ll get you a smaller one, maybe with a trundle. That’s a bed that slides underneath and pulls out so if you’re afraid at night someone can stay in your room. A new bed means a bedspread and sheets. Maybe the princess ones you like. Then the walls might have to be painted to match. That would be your favorite color and would help you get used to a new place.”

“What’s your favorite color, Morgan?” Jess asked, struggling to find something to say. With the ladies he had no problem, but little girls were out of his league.

“Pink.” She met his gaze and her own was troubled. “Sometimes purple.”

“Lavender,” Libby clarified.

Neither was an earth tone as far as he knew, but no one would accuse him of being the interior design police. Among other things, he built hotels and exclusive resorts, then hired people to decorate them. Exclusively.

“We can talk about altering things,” he said. “But I think it might be best to hold off on any sweeping changes until getting some feedback from a child-care professional.”

“I’m a licensed preschool teacher, Mr. Donnelly. I’ve spent the last few years with kids of all different ages at Nooks and Nannies.” Her full lips compressed into a straight line. “And Morgan has been in my care for quite a few months. I think I’m eminently qualified to express an opinion on her new environment and would be happy to consult with you about what will help her adjust to her new and different surroundings.”

He studied the twin spots of color on her cheeks and the way her blue eyes darkened to navy with this show of spirit. She was standing up for the kid who wasn’t even hers and he wondered suddenly whether or not there was a man in her life. The two thoughts would have been contradictory except for his history.

After his dad died, his mother had elevated him to man-of-the-house status. It was the two of them against the world until she fell in love and remarried, at which time she couldn’t get rid of Jess fast enough. So he couldn’t help wondering if Libby had a boyfriend. If so, was she relieved to hand off this child so she could put the guy first? And he had no reason to care since she’d be gone in a few minutes. And where was the nanny he was paying for her expertise in regard to Morgan’s environment?

“I’m getting the distinct impression that you don’t like my place,” he said.

She stood to look at him, but kept a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “It’s spectacular and quite lovely. I’ve never been in a more beautiful home.”

“And yet you’re talking redecorating.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how big is it?”

“About sixty-five-hundred square feet, including the pool and patio,” he answered, unable to completely suppress the note of satisfaction. His mother’s main squeeze hadn’t been shy about expressing the opinion that Jess was a screwup who wouldn’t amount to anything. So sue him for taking pride in his spectacular success.

Libby absently nodded as she glanced around. “It’s very big and one doesn’t need to look far to realize it’s a very adult environment.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“The decor is dark. Strategically lighted artwork hangs in nearly every room. There’s expensive glass and pricey figurines on flat surfaces and in cabinets. What if something gets broken because a child is high-spirited and energetic? Sticky hands and art projects aren’t compatible with light-colored fabric and expensive wood. How is a five-year-old supposed to feel comfortable here?”

“I’m almost six, Aunt Libby,” Morgan piped up.

“Yes, you are, sweetie, right after Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I forgot that you’re almost a grown-up.” A smile turned up the corners of her full mouth, then disappeared when she looked at him again.

“Is there a point to the running commentary?” he asked.

“I’d feel more comfortable if you seemed the slightest bit willing to compromise for Morgan’s sake.”

Jess rested his hands on his hips as he studied her. There was something in her voice and a look skipping across her face that made him think her critique of his habitat was more personal than professional. He hadn’t seen her often but their paths had crossed enough for him to know that she was smart, very smart. But he’d never seen this sassy side of her before and wondered if he’d done something to tick her off.

Regardless of her attitude, he would concede that she had a point. “Is it possible to cut me some slack? I wasn’t expecting to have a child dropped—” He glanced at Morgan and tempered his words. “This situation is not something I anticipated.”

“I understand.” For a split second profound sadness stood out in her eyes, reminding him that she’d also lost a friend.

“Look, Libby, let me rephrase. After consulting with Morgan, I will discuss kid-friendly changes to her environment with her nanny.” He looked at his watch again. “If she ever gets here.”

“If she—” Libby’s expression went from sad to surprised. “Did you talk to Ginger Davis?”

“Yes.”

“Personally?”

“I made initial contact. Then my representatives were in negotiations with her regarding the particulars,” he admitted.

“So you never actually spoke with her about the final arrangement?”

The final arrangement? Just like that he felt the need to defend himself. “I’m deeply involved in a massive resort project. My secretary and lawyer handled all the details.” The look in her eyes made him add, “Both are trusted professionals who have been on my payroll for a number of years. I have complete faith in their ability to handle my affairs.”

“So you staffed out the responsibility of child care?”

Her tone was neutral, the question more about information gathering to fully understand the situation. But again his defensive instincts kicked in. “I’ve done my homework regarding The Nanny Network and fulfilled my fiduciary responsibility as Morgan’s guardian. Elizabeth Bradford comes highly recommended and will take exemplary care of Morgan.”

“Elizabeth Bradford is the nanny?”

“Yes.” Something about the way she said it made him brace himself. “Why? Do you know her?”

“I do. And I’m quite sure that she’ll take very good care of Morgan.”

He detected a definite “gotcha” tone to her voice. “What’s going on?”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a joke unfolding at his expense. A surprise was coming and in his opinion that was never a good thing. “Know what?”

She tilted her chin up, just a bit defiantly. “Libby is a nickname for Elizabeth. It probably slipped your mind that my last name is Bradford. That makes me Elizabeth Bradford. Apparently you missed the part in the negotiations where Morgan’s current and future child-care professional are one and the same person. I’m your new nanny.”