“Soon, but first we need to chat a bit more, don’t you think?”

“Why? I need a nanny and youarea nanny.”

I nodded slowly. “Parents who don’t care about who takes care of their children, generally end up as problematic employers.”

“Excuse me?”

I flashed a toothy grin, happy I’d gone for my bright red lipstick today. “What do you need from your nanny, Mr., ah Brady?”

He wanted to argue with me but thought better of it. “I need someone who knows children, someone who can work with a troubled little girl who is brilliant but struggling.” He outlined her problems at school with a bully as well as her attitude towards her teachers. “She’s a smartass, but only because she’s incredibly smart. She’s tough, and honestly far too mature for her years.”

My smile softened. “She sounds incredible.”

“She is, I think. But I’m not used to children and she needs help. I need a nanny who can help work on her social skills as well as her anger, but I also want to make sure she doesn’t fall behind when she’s allowed to start school again. It will require a one year commitment.”

That was as close as a girl got to job security in this line of work. “Okay.” Wow that was a lot of information in a short amount of time. “That’s no problem. Anything else?”

“That about sums it up. Are you up for the challenge?”

“Sure. Can I meet her?”

He nodded, raking one hand through his thick, dark curls. “Layla.”

A little blond girl appeared wearing black jeans, combat boots and a black and pink t-shirt that proclaimed her a clown wrangler. “You’re the new nanny?”

I liked her right away. “Maybe. Depends on how we get along. You ever had a nanny before?”

“Nope. I went to school and hung out with my parents.” She looked away at the mention of her parents and my heart ached for the little girl. Her gaze met mine again after a while. “I like your jacket.”

“Thanks, I like your bracelets.”

She smiled sweetly. “Can you cook?”

I shrugged. “Enough to get by. A big place like this doesn’t have a cook?” It seemed odd but it wasn’t my place to judge, at least not overtly.

Layla glared at her uncle with a look that clearly said,“I told you so.“

“I told Uncle Brady the same thing. He can afford it, but he said no.” Layla sighed like a long-suffering wallflower and I couldn’t help but smile. “He won’t be happy until I burn the place down.”

Brady let out a strangled noise that was difficult to decipher.

I bit back a laugh. “I’m nobody’s version of Iron Chef, but I can teach you a few staples to avoid repeat visits from the fire department.”

“Yeah?” Her silver-blue eyes shone with hope.

“Yeah, sure. It won’t be fancy but it’ll taste good and get the job done.”

Layla studied me carefully, looking so much like her uncle minus the golden blond hair. “I like her,” she declared and left the living room with a hint of a smile.

This was the strangest interview I’d ever been on, and I’d had tons of them over the course of my life, but it seemed like it was done. Brady stared at me before he wiped his hands on his thighs and stepped back.

“Can you start today? I’ll double your rate for an entire shift if you say yes.”

I resisted the urge—again—to roll my eyes at yet another rich dude who thought money was the only language they needed to know. “My normal rate will be just fine, Mr…Brady. But I will need to take a day off to pack up a few things sometime soon.”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded but I could tell that his attention was already on whatever work he needed to do. “No problem.” He stood, towering over me as he held out a hand to me.

I accepted the handshake, but I wished I hadn’t when the jolt of electricity flooded my veins. It was visceral, the connection that swirled between us, which was ridiculous since I didn’t even know his last name.