Page 35 of Falling for the Nanny

“Pamela Oscotti isn’t coming,” I said, regret coloring my voice. Pamela was my right-hand woman at the company and my default plus one at these things. “Her wife’s surgery got moved.”

“Oh no,” Cat said with genuine sympathy. She’d never met Pamela, but she knew I relied on her from this little exchange we did almost every night where we compared days.

I moved my shoulders. “What can you do? Tell me more about your day. Did you write?”

Cat had mentioned in passing that she was applying for the MFA program at George Mason University. Then, when I pushed her, she confessed that her ultimate goal wasn’t to be a nanny for the rest of her life. She wanted to be a writer. She was shy about it though. She didn’t talk about it unless I pushed her, which I didn’t understand. Wasn’t half of being a published writer doing your own promotion?

“A little.” She shifted so that she was laying between my legs, looking up at me. “I was distracted.”

“By what?” I traced the outline of her lower lip.

It curved beneath my finger. “Wondering when you’d get home.”

I liked the sound of that. I liked Cat waiting for me, wondering about me. “I’m home now.”

She widened her eyes. “You are? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I have a hard time believing that.” I shifted so she could feel my erection against her hip. She tilted her head back, and I met her mouth in a long, lingering kiss.

“Okay, I noticed,” she whispered teasingly when I pulled back.

I smiled automatically, but I was wondering two things. One, how long it would take to get her into the bedroom? And two, what was I going to do when Cat wasn’t here, waiting for me? For something that was supposed to be just fun, the prospect of its ending was extremely bleak.

“I think I like this too much,” I murmured, my voice tense with lust and regret for how deeply and quickly I’d fallen.

Cat tilted her head, clearly catching the discordant note. But rather than ask me about it, she kissed me again.

And that effectively ended all conversation and concerns.

CHAPTER 21

CAT

Lily’s end-of-year awards ceremony was fancier than my college graduation. I was glad Francesca had warned me. I’d planned to go in my usual uniform of jeans and a nice blouse, but then I saw her get up. A floral dress, high heels, and a hat that made her look like she was going to a royal wedding. I didn’t have a fascinator on hand, but I did change into a dress and heels.

“Do I look okay?” I asked Francesca, pivoting in front of the hall mirror. “It’s not too short?” The lavender dress was fitted through the waist, but the midi-length skirt flared, ending just above the knee.

Francesca eyed me critically. I knew that if she thought the skirt was too short, she would absolutely tell me. Direct, honest feedback wasn’t reserved just for her son, though she took the bite out of it for me. Finally, though, she pronounced that it was the perfect length and she thought I had just enough time to fix my nails.

I painted them quickly and we headed to the awards ceremony. If I’d thought Lily’s school was impressive from the outside, the inside was even amazing. It was as elegant as a museum with high ceilings and ornate crown molding, but every room and hallway was clearly designed for children. It was how I imagined Hogwarts might look if it came to life.

“Wow,” I said involuntarily. “If I had to go back to elementary school, this is where I’d want to go.”

“Forty-thousand dollars a year,” Francesca murmured as we walked into the auditorium that looked like a Broadway theater. “A far cry from the public school I sent him to.”

“Seems to have worked out for him though.” As I said the words, David appeared in the far entrance. He was one of a dozen parents coming through the doors, but it was like a spotlight landed on him, highlighting how broad his shoulders were in his suit jacket, the long, lean length of him I knew so well. More than a few women turned to sneak discrete glances at him, but he only had eyes for us.

For me.

I couldn’t help staring at him as he cut through the crowded aisle and made his way to our sides. If anyone was looking at me, it had to be so obvious that I wanted to touch him rather than just giving him a polite nod of acknowledgement. It seemed absurdly unfair that, all around me, women were looking him over, head to toe, practically licking their lips. I wanted to close the space between us and claim him as mine, but I couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t.

And he never could be. Not really. Not the way that they could have him, if for some reason, he decided to return one of those long, lingering gazes. These women were closer to his age. More importantly, they weren’t his daughter’s nanny. I burned with frustration as we took our seats. Somehow, even though I’d thought Francesca was right behind me as we began to file into the aisle, he ended up beside me. The seats were wider and plusher than the hard, fold-down ones at my old school, but David was still too big for them. The narrow armrest didn’t keep his sleeve from brushing against my bare skin. His long legs were in my space, too, so much so that I wondered if it was on purpose.

I snuck a glance at him and caught him looking back out of the corner of his eye. Sparks ignited between us, so bright I was amazed that the people sitting behind us couldn’t see them. My frustration softened into anticipation. Who cared about the limitations? The other women? I had him in the ways that mattered. With his elbow pressed against mine, I watched the awards ceremony and felt absurdly sentimental. The kids were all so cute–the girls in dresses that probably cost more than the rent at my old apartment, the boys in miniature suits–and the parents were obviously so proud. I knew I could only be feeling a fraction of their pride as I watched Lily collecting her Top Student certificate, but it still brought tears stinging to my eyes. In just a few short years, these kids would graduate elementary school, and then middle school, and then before their parents knew it, they’d be graduating from high school.

I sniffled, and David leaned in. “I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be the one doing that,” he murmured.

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