Page 2 of Worth Every Risk

Whatever his problem is, I’d rather be on good terms with everyone I work with, so I flash him a big smile and offer him my hand, sticking it through the metal bars. "Hi there. I’m Aries. The new nanny."

He glances down at my hand, and for some unknown reason, I start waggling my fingers, like Thing fromThe Addams Family.Ugh. So uncool.His eyes flick up to mine, and there’s a ferocity in his gaze that makes me feel like I’ve just stuck my hand into the lion’s cage at the zoo. I want to yank my hand right backagain. Instead, I grit my teeth and leave my hand dangling, fingers still waggling. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost control of them.Come on, Aries. Get your shit together. Just because this man is freakishly handsome, it’s no excuse for acting like an idiot.

He wipes his hand on the back of his jeans and clasps mine in his. It’s warm, slightly damp and calloused, like he works with them a lot. And it’s massive. My hand is completely swallowed by his.At least my fingers can’t move anymore.

I’m suddenly struck, full force, by the pure masculinity of the man before me, and any concern about my fingers, other than the facthe’s touching them, ceases to matter. It’s like he’s emanating pheromones. They’re in his sweat and pooling out in the air between us, causing heat to rush my body.

“Aries,” he repeats, dropping my hand.

Is that a question?People normally think my name is odd, but the blank expression on his face is unnerving. By now, I’d have expected some sort of human reaction. A greeting. A smile. But this guy's giving me nothing. Maybe if I opened up his chest, I would find only grinding metal and computer circuits.And a dash of hot pheromones to fool us into believing he’s real.

His face is a bit perfect. Maybe I’m not far off the mark with this robot idea.

“Like the Zodiac sign,” I offer, hoping he might latch onto this tidbit and start making conversation.

Fat chance.

He blinks at me. “Right,” he says slowly, and for some reason, it feels like a response tomerather than my name. As though I’m the oddity. “You look young. How did you get the job?”

I frown.Why is he asking? Is it any of his business?My thoughts are a swirling mess—I’m too befuddled by his face—but one thought wins out.What if all the previous nannies have been older, and when Mr and Mrs Hawkston see me, they won’t want me because I look too young?My stomach clenches, butsomehow I manage to sound calm when I say, “Same way most people do. I applied. I had a couple of video interviews with Mrs Minter. She said Mrs Hawkston wasn’t available, so she took the interview.”

He stares for a moment. “How old are you?”Oh, God. Really? I must be the youngest nanny they’ve ever had.I need to lighten the mood before I start panicking about being under thirty.

“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” My tone is teasing, but not even a glimmer of a smile cracks through his veneer. Awkward silence descends, and beneath his stony gaze that shows no sign of shifting, I blurt the answer. “I’m twenty-six, but my mum had me covered in SPF50 as soon as I popped out of the womb. Fair skin, you know.”

I thrust my arm further through the bars, clenching my fist and brandishing my pasty, freckled forearm so he can see it. His eyebrow shoots up, his lips curving in distaste. Safe to say my appreciation for this man isnotreciprocated, but the pure disgust he’s displaying is unwarranted.

“All right, Mister,” I begin, my voice hovering somewhere between annoyed and jocular. “Just because your forearms are perfect and tanned from all this outdoor work you’re doing, it doesn’t excuse that repulsed expression on your face.”

He looks even more perturbed after my outburst, and I feel a flash of guilt at having taunted him. He clearly can’t take a joke. His arms hang at his sides, but he flexes his fingers, causing the muscles and tendons in his forearms to stand out in perfect formation.I want to touch them.

I retract my hand, just in case it does something crazy like lurch further through the gate in an attempt to do exactly that. “Do you think you could let me in?”

He grunts and presses a button on his side of the gate, releasing the lock with a mechanical clink so he can open it.

“Thanks,” I mutter, fixing my handbag tightly over my shoulder and dragging my huge suitcase up the garden path. I expect him to follow me so he can get on with his mowing, but I don’t hear him move.

I glance back to find him staring at me with a really strange look on his face. It’s as if he’s never seen a woman before, and I’m wondering why a guy who looks likethat—tall, muscular, and with a face that strikes a perfect balance between beautiful and manly—would ever have cause to stare at a woman the way he’s looking at me. It’s like I’m an alien or something. After a beat too long, he lets the gate swing closed on its slow-release hinges and paces behind me.

I roll my suitcase up the path, heading towards the five stone steps that lead to a black front door with brasswork so highly polished it gleams like gold. The knocker is so clean that I don’t want to touch it.

First things first though. I have to get my enormous case up the steps.

Standing on the first step, I turn around to haul it behind me, only to find the gardener still staring at me. For someone who appeared so resentful to be disturbed from his work, he sure is taking his time to get back to it.

“Where are you going?” he asks, in a tone that suggests what I’m doing is not only wildly inappropriate, but certifiably insane.What is with this guy?

“What does it look like? I’m going inside. Mrs Minter is expecting me any minute now. I don’t want to make a bad impression.” He scowls and my nerves return in full force. If I can't charm the gardener, what hope do I have with the housekeeper? Or the rest of the family?Shit. My urge to babble takes hold, as it always does when I'm anxious. “I had no idea she lived in a house like this. Have you ever seen a house this big? I haven’t. Well, other than when we went to DunrobbinCastle on a school trip. That was mega. Huge. Like a fairytale castle. But in cities, I didn’t think there were houses this big. Not really. Guess I never thought about it, actually." I gaze up at the house. “It’s really something, eh? I wasn’t expecting this.”

One of his thick eyebrows arches, a pale white scar running through it. Paired with his grumpy demeanor and unwavering stare, it makes him look a little sinister.Maybe this guy has a dark side. “What were you expecting?” To my surprise, it sounds as though he’s genuinely interested, which calms me a little.

I shrug. “Not sure. I didn’t think about it much.”

He stiffens slightly, then fixes me with those dark eyes that bristle with something I can’t read. “You didn’t Google your employer?”

“Nope. I’ve worked for several families and never googled them. I go by gut feel. You know… my intuition.” He frowns, looking like he doesn’t know what I mean at all, or at least doesn’t approve of it, but I refuse to be put off. “Mrs Minter gave me all the info I needed. I liked her. Lucie I particularly liked. What a sweet kid. The cutest smile. She kept kissing the screen when we spoke online.” I can’t help the broad grin that spreads over my face. I’ve always loved kids. “Apparently there’s a son too, Charlie, but he’s away at boarding school, so I don’t know what he’s like yet. Oh, and the pay! This was the best offer I’ve ever had. Do you reckon they know they’re paying well over the average wage?”

I smirk and wink, waiting for him to smile, or acknowledge that he too is being paid well above the average salary, but all he says is, “If they’re paying more, they’re expecting more.”

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