Not Just the Nanny Page 12

  She tasted creamy-salty-sweet and he took her flavor into his mouth over and over and over, his tongue flat, his tongue flickering, his tongue telling her how lovely she was for sharing this with him in a soft rhythm and in a hard-driving pulse.

  “Mick…” Her voice was breathless. “I can’t…”

  He knew how to coax. Kids on bicycles. Dogs from drainpipes. Frightened people from twisted metal. “Sure you can,” he said. “I’m right here. I’ll catch you. C’mon, Kayla.”

  And then she did come. And he held her quaking hips in his big hands and felt higher than he did when he’d climbed his first extension ladder as a rookie so many years before.

  Her sated expression did nothing to diminish his desire. As he shucked the rest of his clothes, her half-drowsy eyes watched him like a cat content in the sun. But when he kissed her again, she went from drowsy kitten to wide-awake feline, rubbing against his naked skin, kissing his chest, his belly, his—

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, lifting her away from there.

  She pouted. “You’re supposed to be making me feel good. That was making me feel good.”

  “And me too good,” he murmured, flipping her yet again, then donned the condom he’d put on the bedside table. When she opened to him, her arms, her legs, he didn’t hesitate again.

  His body surged into hers.

  He felt powerful. Wide-awake. And so damn young. Energy coursed through his veins and he was nothing like the overburdened father who feared the future any longer. He was a man on the brink of a new day—one he was looking forward to living.

  Kayla’s hips moved up, into his, and then she was drawing his head down, taking him into a kiss that sizzled like a shooting star—and shot him right out of orbit.

  They dozed. After the night he’d had, he was surprised he even roused when she moved.

  “Where’re you going?” he said, his voice slurred.

  “I have a lunch date,” she replied, but he heard it from far away. He didn’t like the idea of her leaving, but sleep beckoned. Kayla wasn’t really leaving him, he thought, as the tide took him back out. He’d fulfilled his plan and made her feel so good that surely she wouldn’t ever go away.

  “I’m so glad you could join us today. We’ve always enjoyed your company so much,” Patty told Kayla with enthusiasm after they were seated at the café table. Then she cast a sidelong, guilty glance at her husband, Eric. “Okay, okay. I know I promised not to lay it on too thick.”

  Eric Bright, a lean man with short blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses, shook his head at his wife, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Really, Kayla, thanks for coming. How’s Mick?”

  She thought of him now, as she’d been trying not to since she’d left the house. He’d been on his belly, his face buried in the pillow, the breadth of his shoulders and the long shallow valley of his spine exposed by the sheet bunched at his hips. A tingle rekindled inside her remembering everything that had led to his drowsy state. A flush rose up the back of her neck, so she took a swallow of her ice water to cool herself.

  “Tired today,” she managed to say. “I gather that last night they had to go out on more than one tough call.”

  Eric nodded. “And Lee and Jane?”

  “Lee’s good.” Then she shrugged. “Jane’s fine, too, but sixth grade…”

  “Oh, don’t I know.” Patty rolled her eyes. “I was dreading fifteen, but eleven going on twelve has hit our family pretty hard. Danielle wanted to wear eye-liner to school today.”

  “Jane, too.” It helped to hear that her charge wasn’t the only girl with wild ideas this morning. “She wasn’t too happy with me when I told her to change her clothes and wash her face.”

  “Wasn’t too happy” was an understatement, of course. She’d been furious, and Kayla got upset just thinking about it. They’d butted heads from time to time, but the girl usually saved her moments of rebellion for her father—and now she had more sympathy than ever for what Mick’s future might hold.

  “I figure I’ll get the cold shoulder until Dani needs something at the mall or wants to have her friends over,” Patty said.

  Her husband groaned. “I must have been in the shower and missed this altercation entirely—for which I am eternally grateful.”

  Patty reached over to pat his cheek. “You’ll pay when it’s time to talk to our son about safe sex.”

  “He’s only eight years old!” Eric protested.

  “And when the time comes, you’ll be repeating yourself until he’s eighty-eight or married and out of the house, whichever comes first.”

  The waitress arrived to take their orders, then went away when they made clear they hadn’t cracked their menus yet. The many-paged binder affair could take a whole hour to peruse, Kayla thought. She wondered if she’d make it back before Mick left her bed, and she didn’t…

  Don’t think about that! she told herself. Nor did she want to think about that vague undercurrent of disquiet that had been running at the back of her mind since Mick had returned from taking the kids to school.

  With a smile, she glanced up at the couple. “What are you two planning to have?”

  Patty flipped a couple of laminated pages. “Eric, you’re going to go for the eggplant parmigiana sandwich, right? Or maybe you feel like the patty melt?”

  His eyes bugged out behind his glasses. “They have patty melts? You are the goddess of menu minders,” he told his wife with sincere appreciation. “I didn’t even see a patty melt or an eggplant parmigiana sandwich and I’ve been staring at this thing as long as you have.”

  Patty looked a little smug as she shot a glance at Kayla. “I always find exactly what he wants.”

  “It’s a division-of-labor thing,” Eric told Kayla. “She’s on the lookout for my perfect lunch, I make sure she keeps her cell phone charged.”

  “Seems fair,” she said. But it seemed more than that, it seemed sweet, and she enjoyed the thought of the couple looking out for each other in even those small ways.

  “You and Mick probably have unspoken agreements like that, too,” Eric said. “You make the coffee every morning, he regularly checks the oil in your car.”

  “It’s not exactly the same,” his wife pointed out. “Kayla’s not Mick’s wife, but his kids’ nanny.”

  “Meaning Patty will check your oil and make the coffee every morning if you agree to go with us to Europe.”

  “Hey!” his wife frowned. “I thought you forbade me to arm twist. Kayla already said she was ninety-nine percent sure she was staying with the Hansons.”

  Ninety-nine percent? Kayla thought. Was it really wise of her to dismiss the offer so quickly? After that unpleasant scene with Jane that morning and then Mick’s unsettling comments before they’d made love, she just wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Their orders were taken; their meals arrived. Kayla asked questions about their planned stay in Europe and listened intently, but studied the pair’s interaction with equal care. They moved in a rhythm that she liked, that she recognized. She and Mick were similar in some ways, easily moving about the kitchen or packing the car for a trip, aware of each other’s moves and depending upon each other’s expertise.

  Mick was a whiz at getting everything in the trunk. Kayla was the one to make sure everyone had a sweatshirt in case the day turned cold.

  But Patty and Eric had more. Where she and Mick avoided physical contact, the other couple were easy with each other in that way, too. She brushed a crumb off his shirt. He fed her a seasoned French fry that came with his patty melt. What would it be like to have that with someone?

  When Eric turned to the dessert menu, she excused herself for the ladies’ room. She was surprised that Patty didn’t go with her—it was customary, in her experience, to make the trip with the other female in the party—but then she figured that the couple would take the few minutes to discuss her.

  They’d outlined the duties of the nanny they were looking for. The possibilities for solo and family travel
had been presented. A salary even mentioned. She imagined Patty turning to Eric now and asking, “Is there a chance that she’ll leave Mick and Jane and Lee?”

  Was there a chance? Kayla pondered the question for herself as she headed back toward the table. Before she’d come up with a solid answer, her cell phone buzzed in her purse. She pulled it free and looked at the screen. Her mother.

  “Mom?” she asked. Her mother’s calls were rare and even rarer was it to hear from her midday. She was a busy executive’s assistant from eight-to-five who then went home to a bustling house filled with her husband and three active high schoolers. “Is something wrong?”

  Karen Collins sounded relieved. “You took my call.”

  “Ye-es?” Kayla frowned. “And you’re surprised because…?”

  “I forgot your birthday.” She hesitated. “Tell me your father didn’t forget, too.”

  “I had a nice celebration luncheon with my girlfriends,” Kayla said, skipping over the direct answer. “And then Mick and the kids surprised me with cake and balloons and really great presents.”

  Her mother groaned. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me? Mitzi had a debate tournament that weekend and Doug Junior was doing something or other for Scouts. Not to mention that Annie had that 4-H—”

  “I get the busy family thing, Mom, no problem,” she said, ignoring a pang of sadness.

  “It’s a problem! Yes, I realize your friends stepped in and that your employer acknowledged your day, but you should have had something more. Your mom and your dad at least wishing you the best. And—dare I say it—a date.”

  “I had a date.”

  “You did?” Her mother sounded so eager.

  Kayla swallowed her groan, wishing she hadn’t mentioned it. “It was no big deal, but yes, I had a date.”

  “Tell me about him!”

  She could see the table and Patty and Eric now. Her feet slowed. The couple were laughing together over something, their hands entwined. It was beautiful how they were so relaxed together, yet still so obviously attracted. They were a solid, comfortable unit that still gave off love sparks.

  It was what she wanted. It was what she couldn’t have with Mick.

  “Kayla?” her mom prodded. “About your date?”

  “It was nothing,” she said slowly.

  Or, to be more precise, it wasn’t going to come to anything. For whatever reason, Mick had implied more than once that he didn’t want a woman in his life on a permanent, intimate basis. She’d been trying to ignore that fact. Wishing it away.

  But after her episode with Jane—you’ll never be my mother!—and then his declaration this morning—plenty of single parents manage not to raise juvenile delinquents—she had to face the fact that Mick saw himself as a solo lean, mean parenting machine. In that case, he and the kids would never be hers in that real way she wanted.

  She didn’t think anything less was good enough for herself now, though. That was what had been running through her head since she’d left Mick in her bed. She’d told him during the early phone call not to worry about her—that she could take care of herself—and it was time to do just that.

  She had to see the truth that Mick didn’t want to commit, and after a lifetime of being forgotten or overlooked by family, she needed commitment. She wanted family.

  And if she had to tear herself away from one to find her own…so be it.

  With new determination in her step, she returned to join Patty and Eric.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kayla had been tossing and turning in her bed for a couple of hours when she heard her bedroom door pop open. Even horizontal, her stomach dipped. Mick?

  She rolled her head on the pillow to see a slight figure outlined in the doorway. “Jane?” She lifted to an elbow. “What’s wrong? Don’t you feel well?”

  The girl hesitated, then she ran toward the bed. “I want to make things right.”

  Relief washed through Kayla, making her almost giddy. “Me, too,” she said, leaning to flip on the bedside light. For two days, the members of the Hanson household had been tiptoeing around each other with exaggerated politeness. “Come here.”

  In her soft yellow pajamas, Jane climbed into the bed as Kayla scooted over so the girl could have the spot she’d warmed on the mattress. With the child tucked under the covers, Kayla dared to brush her dark hair from her forehead. “Is something going on at school?” she asked.

  “I have that book project due next week,” Jane said. “I don’t know where to start.”

  Jane was notorious for putting off tasks she dreaded. Lee would tackle the assignment he most disliked—spelling—first, but his sister procrastinated until the deadline breathed down the back of her neck.

  “Remember our strategy for that?”

  “Break the project into smaller pieces,” Jane said. “Focus on the first and not worry about the next until that one’s finished.”

  “Right. So when you’re ready tomorrow, we can sit down together and separate the whole into manageable chunks.”

  “I did finish reading the book,” the girl said, brightening. Then her face fell. “Because Dad wouldn’t let me watch television after dinner. He said maybe I was learning my rudeness from my favorite shows.”

  “I’m sure you can earn back the privilege,” Kayla said.

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  Kayla’s brows rose. “To get back your viewing quotient of iCarly?”

  Both Jane’s lashes and her voice lowered. “Not really. I don’t like that I hurt your feelings.”

  Kayla blinked away the sting at the corners of her eyes. “Something tells me that I might have hurt yours, too.”

  Jane wiggled a little in place. “If only you would let me wear makeup. Just a little…”

  She stopped as Kayla was already shaking her head. “It’s your dad’s rule,” she reminded the girl.

  “You could ignore it. Or you could tell him it was wrong.”

  “No, because I happen to agree with him. But the fact is, Jane, that even if I didn’t agree you were too young for lip gloss and mascara, I’m the nanny and he’s the father. Which means he gets to make the rules and I’m paid to help you follow them.”

  Something flashed in the girl’s eyes. “He pays you to take care of us.”

  “True.” Was that what was bothering her? “I do get a check for taking care of you.” She tapped Jane’s nose with a gentle fingertip. “But the caring for you and Lee comes from me, free of charge.”

  Tears welled in Jane’s eyes. Kayla froze, then scooted closer to gather the girl close. “What is it?” This didn’t feel like making things right. This felt like things going in the wrong direction. “Why are you crying?”

  One fat drop spilled down Jane’s cheek. “How could you care for us and plan to leave us at the same time?” she accused.

  Kayla’s face stiffened into a mask. She hadn’t known how and when to broach the subject of the Brights’ proposal and so had become as dedicated a procrastinator as Jane. How had the word got out? “What exactly are you talking about?”

  “The other night…the night before I tried to go to school in Maribeth’s clothes, Danielle said she overheard her parents. That they think you’ll go to Europe with them and be their nanny.”

  “Oh. Well.” That explained Jane’s outburst, she thought, remembering the girl’s impassioned Go away and stay there! that had occurred even before her lunch meeting with Patty and Eric Bright. “I hadn’t talked to Danielle’s parents about that.”

  “So it’s not true?”

  Kayla hesitated. She couldn’t flat-out lie. “I hadn’t talked to them about that yet,” she amended. “Since then, they did speak to me about the possibility.”

  “So are you? Are you leaving us?”

  Kayla sighed. “Oh, Jane.” Where did this sit on the right-wrong spectrum? She hugged the child tighter to her, running her hand over her hair as she’d done a thousand times before. Her chest ached, brimming wi
th maternal feelings that weren’t hers to have.

  The children weren’t hers.

  Their father wasn’t hers.

  “Don’t you love us?” Jane asked, her voice sounding closer to five than eleven.

  “Of course I love you,” Kayla said. “How could I not love you?” But was assuring the child of that so wise?

  Because it all felt so wrong now. She shouldn’t have stayed for six years. Six years of wiping tears and spills, of packing lunches and suitcases, of wrapping owies and Christmas gifts…those six years had cemented the family into her heart.

  But nothing cemented her to them in return.

  “You’ll go to college in seven years, Janie,” she said, rubbing her cheek against the child’s hair. “Lee in ten. How old will I be then?”

  Jane sniffed. “Thirty-four when I go. Thirty-seven for Lee. Old!”

  “Yeah. Old. Maybe too old for some of the things I want for myself.” A husband. Children who belonged to her.

  “I want you to stay with us forever,” Janie declared, squeezing her tight. “But you won’t stay forever,” Kayla pointed out. “College, remember? And then you’ll have a job and an apartment and maybe a husband and your own kids after that.”

  Sighing, Jane tucked her head tighter to Kayla. “Sometimes I don’t ever want to grow up.”

  “I know,” she said, closing her eyes. “I know the feeling.” But she’d been playing house for six years and it was past time for her to grow up, too.

  The girl grew heavy against her. “Let’s get you back to your bed,” she whispered, then half led, half carried the child up to her room, her heart heavier than Jane’s slender form.

  As if she was still small, Kayla arranged a stuffed menagerie around the girl’s drowsy body. Then she leaned down and kissed her on the brow. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  Jane’s hand crept out to clasp Kayla’s wrist. “Do you have to go?”

  She didn’t mean right now. She meant away from them. Her free hand covered Jane’s fingers as she searched inside herself for how to put things right. For what was right.