Page 25 of Falling for the Nanny

Intrigued, I followed him down the hall and through the double doors I knew led to his room. It wasn’t like walking into his most private space though–the room was too large and too impersonal. Acres of powder gray walls without a single picture. A massive oak bureau that didn’t have a single frame set on top. On one of the matching nightstands, I saw a framed picture of Lily, but that was the only thing that told me which side of the bed he might sleep on. There wasn’t a single item on any other surface.

It was more than minimalist. It was spartan. His office had more personality.

More intrigued by the minute, I followed him to the far side of the room where a small hallway led to his ensuite bathroom. Before it, were two doors, opposite each other. He opened one and I saw a walk-in closet that was bigger than my room in the pool house. It was largely empty but for a few packing boxes stacked up on each other with the word Chloe written in neat, precise lettering across the side.

“That’s Lily’s mom,” he said, nodding to them.

“In the boxes?”

David flashed me a look. “No, not in the boxes. That’s the shit she left behind when she decided she was tired of being a mother.”

My heart twisted for Lily. I had wondered what happened to her mom but never had the courage to ask. I thought maybe she had died and that explained David’s reserve. I never thought she’d just up and left because it was inconceivable. “She decided she was tired of it?” I repeated. “Was it postpartum depression?”

“No,” David said shortly. “It was a postpartum wish to live in California and only call her daughter once a month.”

“That could be–”

“It wasn’t depression, Cat,” David cut me off. “It was, is, an inborn selfishness that was always there, but I was stupid enough to think that she’d grow out of it. That having Lily would change it. But it didn’t.”

I nodded to show him I wasn’t arguing anymore. Glancing at him for permission, I walked over to the boxes and saw that the top one wasn’t taped. I slipped my finger beneath the cardboard flap and flipped it open. There were the pictures. The very top one was of a beautiful woman with sunlight blonde hair, full lips, and warm brown eyes. Her head was leaning into David’s, who looked younger, happier.

“Wow,” I whispered. “She’s beautiful.”

“She’s pixels on a screen for Lily,” David said, sounding unimpressed. “She’s a birthday card on the wrong month. She’s a promise to visit for Christmas that always gets broken.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I put the first photograph aside and picked up the next. This one was of Chloe and an infant that I knew had to be Lily. “She looks happy,” I observed.

“She’s a good actress.”

I went through a few more of the photographs, conscious of David’s eyes on me. Finally, I turned back toward him. “So your point is that you don’t want Lily to see me as a mother figure because her actual mother was such a disappointment?”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“I get that, but David, you can’t expect me not to care about her.” I lifted my hands helplessly. “If she’s sick, I’m going to want to read her a bedtime story if she asks, okay?”

“I’m not sure it is okay.” His dark green eyes rose to meet mine, and I was suddenly aware of how alone we were. This wasn’t like the permeable shadows of the pool house with the vast night stretching out all around us. We were in his bedroom, in his closet. The silence was so loud it rang in my ears.

“Don’t you want me to love her?” I asked quietly. “I mean, you wouldn’t want someone taking care of her who didn’t, would you?” Impulsively, I took a few steps toward him. We were standing arms’ length apart.

Dangerous territory.

“I admit, I want the impossible.” David’s voice was a low rumble, his eyes were fixed on mine. I got the feeling that we weren’t just talking about Lily and me anymore. The undercurrent of the conversation had switched directions.

“Maybe I do, too,” I whispered. Even though we were in the heart of his bedroom, inside the fortress of his home, surrounded by his gated acres of his land, it still felt dangerous to say out loud. After all, doors and walls and gates couldn’t keep out consequences.

“So what should I do about it?” David’s arms were crossed over his chest now, but I could still see the way his fists were balled into the fold of his arms. Like he was holding himself back.

All of the same alarm bells were going off in my head–the ones that extolled the dangers of sleeping with my boss. But I ignored them and I took a step that brought me within inches of him. Slowly, I looked up at him and put my hand on his tensed forearm.

“Whatever you want, David. You’re the boss.”

CHAPTER 16

DAVID

She was wearing one of those damn button up shirts that hid the shape of her, but when she took that last step, I could see down it. Her breath was coming fast and shallow, and mine stopped altogether. I wanted so badly to rip the sides of her shirt apart, to flick the hook of her bra and fill my hands with her breasts. She wanted it, too. I could tell by the way her eyes had gone hazy and her lips trembled.

I unclenched one fist and smoothed my hand over her cheek, sliding my fingers into her hair and cupping the back of her head. We had an agreement that we couldn’t sleep together, but I could kiss her. That was a line that had already been crossed. I slid my other hand into her hair, going slow to give her a chance to shake her head or indicate in any way that she didn’t want this.

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