Page 22 of Nanny for the Mercenaries

“No freaking clue,” he replied. “I’m not sure I’m even good at anything else.”

“That can’t be true,” I said, pushing a little harder. “Let’s talk it out. What are your interests?”

Jordy crossed one leg over the other and pursed his lips in thought. He was cute when he was concentrating. “I like to cook. And I’m good with car stuff.”

“Then what about becoming a mechanic?”

He grunted. “Nah. I’m good at it, but I don’t actuallylikeit. I was kind of pushed into working on cars because my mom drove a beater around town and it always needed fixing. Couldn’t afford to take it to a real mechanic, either. If I didn’t learn how to repair it myself, we probably wouldn’t have survived.”

My heart ached at the thought of a young Jordy barely scraping by with what sounded like a single mother. “What about becoming a chef?”

He chuckled as if it were a joke. “Spoiler alert, Trish: I’m not actuallygoodat cooking. I just enjoy doing it. To me, it’s kind of like foreplay before an actual meal. All the aromas and spices and heat… it really sets the mood and makes me want to dig in.” He winked.

I took a long pull from my beer. Was he flirting with me? Or was it just polite banter? When I lowered my beer, Jordy was gazing over at me. There was a question in his eyes, like he was wondering how I had taken the vaguely-sexual comment. I felt strangely comfortable around him, as if we had known each other far longer than a few gym interactions and one international flight…

The front door opened and the two other mercenaries strode inside. Kaylee hopped down from the table and sprinted over to hug them, her blonde braid swaying back and forth.

“Missed you too, dearie,” Archer said to her. Then, to Jordy, he said, “Layout of the conference matches the maps we were given.”

“Great,” Jordy said, avoiding looking in my direction.

Harrison sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”

Jordy popped up from the couch. “Dinner’s in the oven. Should be about ready.”

As I watched him get up and go into the kitchen, I wondered where our conversation may have gone if we hadn’t have been interrupted.

9

Jordy

Archer liked to say that I was a natural flirt. It happened automatically, without me thinking about it. When I was around a beautiful woman, especially one who I may be interested in, I had a way of acting that I didn’t even realize.

And Trish? She was very beautiful,andI was interested in her.

It was the look she gave me that made me realize I might have crossed a line. Comparing food to sex and then winking at her. She drank her beer and then gazed at me like she was wondering how she felt about all of it.

She probably thinks it’s inappropriate to get involved with me, since she’s nannying for Kaylee. And honestly, she would be right. It was a bad idea, especially at the beginning of our trip. We barely knew each other. If things got weird, then we would have alotof awkwardness until we returned home.

But if things don’t get weird, and she likes me too…

I shook off the thought as I pulled the tray of food out of the oven. I had promised Archer that I would focus on this mission, and I was going to do that even if it killed me.

We spent the next day meeting with the head of security for the peace conference, discussing the details of the job and potential weak points that could be exploited. The day after that was the beginning of the conference itself. I woke up early because my body was still messed up from the time change.

And because of the dream I had last night.

I didn’t know where we were—the surroundings were fuzzy, the way things often were in a dream, but Trish was vivid in my mind. Her long eyelashes. That heart-shaped face. Luscious lips begging to be kissed, pursing together as she leaned close…

“Get it together,” I told myself as I got ready in front of the mirror. Most of the security for the peace conference would be wearing suits, but we were dressed in plain clothes to blend in along the exterior perimeter. Jeans and a T-shirt. Plus a jacket to protect against the chilly wind blowing up from the Baltic Sea… and to cover what was on my hip.

“I hate babysitting jobs,” Harrison grumbled as he walked past the room Archer and I were sharing. “I’d rather be shooting something.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I said as I fastened the belt slide holster on. Norway had pretty strict gun laws, but those were bent by the local government due to the special circumstances of the peace conference. The Glock P80 that slid into the holster was the Norwegian version of the Glock 17, a weapon which I was intimately familiar with. Harrison and Archer would be wearing identical sidearms, along with a long rifle for Archer to use from his vantage point on the roof.

Hope we don’t have to use them, I thought as I let my jacket fall loosely to my hip, covering the holster easily.This ought to be just like any other security job. No mess, no fuss.

The three of us took turns saying goodbye to Kaylee. We each had a different sort of routine: I hugged her and told her I loved her, while Archer made a joke about how she had better not grow another few centimeters while we were gone. Harrison hefted the girl into his arms and swung her around, then squeezed her to his chest so tightly that Kaylee eventually squealed that she was being squished.

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