Urgent: One Nanny Required (Crimson Romance) (2 page)

Remembering the compliant boy she had met earlier, Rania found it hard to merge that image with some hell-raiser who terrorized nannies, and then ran away for good measure. “I must admit, I’m surprised. That wasn’t the little boy I met earlier,” she mused to herself. Talking to herself; yet another bad habit she should stop, especially when she saw him nod in agreement.

“He really isn’t. Well, not usually.” His voice was gruff with emotion he couldn’t hide as he continued to stare at his son.

She squeaked in surprise as the cuckoo clock darted out of its hole to announce it was six
P.M.
So much for going home early. The unladylike noise brought his gaze back round to her, eyebrow arched at the odd sound.

Clearing her throat to belie how wrapped up she was in watching him, so much so she didn’t notice the clock till too late, she smoothed her hands down her flowery apron. “Just putting it out there. Do you remember the fathers in those films? They were too busy to spend time with their children, so the children misbehaved to get their attention.”

“Is that what you are saying Theo is doing, Miss George? He is misbehaving because I am neglecting him?” He shot back, the hard mask back in place once again.

“Well, if the cap fits and all that, Mr. Trenton,” she replied as she placed her hands on her hips, refusing to cower before the angry stare. A stare which she was sure usually got him his own way. Well, not in her shop.

• • •

Unbelievable! First she had the nerve to accuse him of losing his own son and now she was suggesting Theo behaved like this because he was neglecting him.

Running a hand through his hair, he stared down at the petite Attila-
cum
-lawyer-
cum
-sweet shop owner. The faded flowery apron did nothing to hide the curves beneath, as the caramel-brown eyes flashed angrily up at him. Even the plain braided dark brown hair didn’t detract from her unusual beauty, his eyes dropping to the Cupid’s bow mouth beneath a small upturned nose.

Jeez, what was he thinking … ?
He needed to get out more. Not that he hadn’t been on dates since Lila’s death, but nothing serious. At least not with the fickle women in his line of work and since those were the only ones he met, he was pretty much out of luck. More importantly, he had Theo to think about. Not to mention he never had the time. Time … the reason he was here. He had meant to be home earlier until he was called into a last-minute meeting with the Studio, maneuvering through the rush hour traffic to be met with a hysterical nanny and a missing son. The latter now happy as ever huddled on the floor, flicking through his favorite comic and sucking on a licorice stick. He frowned as a thought hit him. He never remembered seeing Theo this relaxed in any other adults’ company, not even his grandparents.

“And, furthermore, Mr. Trenton, I never used the word neglect. Ignored may be a better choice.”

Good God, she was still talking. He couldn’t recall anyone speaking to him like this in years. Seven years, to be exact. Ever since he’d got his lucky break when he directed his first feature film, the one that went on to earn him the “Best Director Award.” If he was honest with himself, normally the women of his acquaintance either kowtowed to his every utterance or stayed out of his way. None of them carried on like some avenging angel on his sons’ behalf. He observed her through lowered lashes, watching the way her hands shot out when she had a point to make, how despite towering over her, she was not fazed in the slightest. It was refreshing.

He held up a hand to stop the flow, enjoying how her eyes widened into deep golden pools at the surprising authoritative gesture. “Miss George, may I stop you there. I realize you have the worst kind of opinion of me right now and while I really don’t care, I don’t have time to argue with you as I need to get my son home and to bed.”

Turning around, he found the mini-Houdini had vanished from his spot on the floor, leaving behind a large black rucksack. He felt his throat close in panic and he whirled back to face her, ready to ask for her help yet again. Only to find the conjurer had magically appeared by her side, her hand resting delicately on his shoulder as she peered down to look at something in the comic he was showing her. The image of his son’s happy face as he smiled up at her felt like a punch to the solar plexus. Other than when he came to find him, how long had it been since Theo looked up at him with that sort of adoration?

She smiled down at Theo. The movement transformed her whole face, making her seem carefree. Nothing like the force of nature from a few moments before. Using the opportunity, he gazed quickly around the small village shop. The rich smell of sweets in the air, the sight of jars and plastic bottles of candies filling his view everywhere he looked.

Behind them, he was able to glimpse those bits of the shop she clearly did not want people to notice. The corners, darkened with damp. Large jars covering the worst of the peeling paint and wallpaper. The weathered wood of the counter. Not the most thriving of businesses he’d seen despite the obvious love and care she put into it. Hearing a burst of childish giggles he looked back to see his son laughing at something she had said. When was the last time he’d heard his son laugh with such abandon? Too long, clearly.

“Yes and my daddy made this.” The simple statement jerked him out of his musings as he watched Theo point to a miniaturized movie poster on the back of his comic.

“Your daddy made the comic?” she asked, her eyes wide, trying for all appearances to look suitably impressed. She didn’t fool him for a second. She wasn’t that good an actress, and in his job, he’d seen the best of the best.

“No, silly. He directed it. He’s a director,” Theo finished, throwing a proud smile in his direction. He couldn’t help but smile back. He knew he hadn’t always been around for his son as much as he wanted to, but he knew that Theo was proud of him and of what he did. Especially when he made a film based on a comic.

He bit back a smile as she frowned at the new information and gently holding the magazine, peered closer at the smaller writing on the poster where his name was displayed in miniaturized capitals.

“So I see. I’m impressed, Theo,” she nodded, smiling. Though from the way her hand gripped her apron, Nick was sure it was more forced then he would have liked. Not that he cared about her opinion of him.

“But that’s not my favorite hero. I’ve got another comic in my bag with him in it. Hang on,” he said turning toward the back of the shop where he had left it.

She looked back at him, the indecision of what to do next clear in her eyes. He was used to people being tongue-tied around him when they knew who he was and what he did for a living, but he had hoped she would be different. Expected her to be.

“So, a director. I actually saw that film, I thought it was good.” He couldn’t help but smile wryly at the flatly delivered almost compliment. Clearly, the tongue-tied moment was long gone. “Strange. I always imagined directors as old men with beards and flat caps with interestingly tied cravats.” He couldn’t rein in his laughter at that. She really was something else.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I got lucky in the business quite early on. I am thirty-four if that helps, so I’m no spring chicken.” Pausing, he could see her weigh up this new piece of information, her head tilted to one side like an inquisitive bird. “What about you?”

“Me? What about me? You do know it’s not very gentlemanly to ask a lady her age?”

The mild reproof was at odds with the dancing of her eyes.

“Possibly, but I’m no gentlemen so you may as well confess. I always pictured a sweet shop owner as an old dear with flowery apron and a blue rinse.”

She smiled, the small nose crinkling up with the movement. “Well I’m halfway there,” she said, pointing at the apron around her waist. “But I’ve still a bit to go before the blue rinse. I’m twenty-eight. No spring chicken myself but still a way to go till I reach thirty-four!” The good-natured insult made him smile in response.

He could tell the moment a cloud entered her thoughts, the expressive eyes darkening like a twilight sky.

“Now that I know what you do for a living, I can see how the nature of your job, as you put it, prevents you from being at home much. It’s a pretty impressive job.”

• • •

Rania could see the comment had hit home and hard. A director! A flippin’ film director, no less! Did someone up there have it in for her? Maybe her mother was laughing in heaven right now at the situation Rania found herself in. Why couldn’t Theo’s dad have been anything else? A shop assistant or a banker. Pick anyone other than someone in the film industry. Was it the fate of the George women to be thrown near men from that world?

She stopped herself short.
No
. She didn’t go out of her way to be near that world. Her mother, with grand dreams of becoming an actress may have had a different idea. In fact, that was how she came into the world; as a clearly much-loved, much-wanted casting couch baby. Except after all was said and done, her mother hadn’t gotten the part despite what her big director father had apparently told her. All Rania knew about him was he was half Lebanese, half American, which explained her dark coloring compared to her mother’s English rose fairness.

She could see the muscles in his jaw twitch. Probably reining in the angry swear words for Theo’s sake. Well she wasn’t scared of the anger. Other than Belle’s support, she had been pretty much left to fend for herself most of her life. A few swear words wouldn’t dent the barriers she had already erected.

“If you are implying I put my job above my son, then you are very much mistaken. I love my son, Miss George. If I could have, I would have taken Theo with me and put him in the studio schools like other directors I know. However, I wanted more stability for him than that. Maybe in hindsight it may not have been the best decision, but I left him here with a nanny in the house that his mother and I called home,” he snarled, his body rigid with anger.

For the second time that day, Rania found herself stunned into speechlessness. Maybe she had pushed too far. Curse her childish habit for sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. She knew she wasn’t that great at eating humble pie, but judging from the look on his face and the niggling feeling that she hadn’t been especially fair, she knew an apology was in order. Pinning what she hoped was a contrite look on her face, she raised her eyes to his, her stomach sinking at the simmering anger in them, transforming them to the color of an angry sea.

“Please accept my apologies, Mr. Trenton. I clearly misjudged the situation. My only concern was for Theo.” Her voice was cool and even despite the racing of her heart under his heated gaze. The imperceptible nod was the only indication she had of being forgiven.

“Do you have any children, Miss George?”

The unexpected question threw her for a loss and she found herself frowning, sure she hadn’t heard him properly.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“I said — do you have any children?” The repeated question was spoken a lot slower and carefully enunciated this time, as if she herself were a child.

The question, unbeknown to him, brought to the surface her secret, long held dream of having a child of her own. To raise her child to be loved and wanted, as she was never brought up. Never to be used as an accessory, then discarded when the party was over.

She shook her head sadly, partly to dispel the image and partly to answer his question, murmuring softly, “No. No, I don’t.”

She had a sneaky feeling the barriers she had long ago constructed were becoming more transparent with each passing minute of this conversation. His sharp gaze never seemed to miss a trick as he watched her smooth down her apron for the umpteenth time that evening.

“Why do you ask? Am I that much of a natural with children?” She smiled breezily. Clearly, he was in no mood for jokes as her light-hearted comment fell on deaf ears and he continued to watch her through lowered lashes.

“You are with Theo. He rarely lets me even look at his prized comics, let alone ever sharing them with his nanny or a total stranger.” He paused, as if another thought had entered his handsome head. “What
is
your experience with children then?”

Where was he going with this? Rania knew she hadn’t had much experience with interviews, especially since taking over the shop from Belle, but this was strangely beginning to feel like one. As tempted as she was to tell him to mind his own business, she felt strangely compelled to carry on with the bizarre conversation. “Baby-sitting jobs here and there. Not a lot of those since running the shop. I’m a volunteer reader at the library during children’s hour on the weekend. Why?”

She could feel his eyes travel over her face, as if trying to pin something down. He nodded and she felt like he had already come to a decision though she had no idea what and how the hell it involved her.

“What about a boyfriend?”

Talk about coming out of left field! Turning swiftly, she busied herself rearranging the already pristine shelves. Her face flamed at the reminder that the last time she had a boyfriend or even gave herself time for one, Belle was still alive and that had been five years ago. The “ignorance-is-bliss” tack was clearly what this situation called for. “Boyfriend? Yes I’ve had those. So … ?”

His impatient exhale was a sure sign her response had worked. Perhaps now he would back off and let her be. “Yes, I’m sure you did. What I would like to know is if you have one now?”

That did it. How dare he come into her shop and start questioning her about the state of her non-existent love life. If this had been an interview she would have sued … for something. “I’m not sure that is any of your business.”

“Just answer the damn question!” The sharp comment exhaled on a frustrated sigh had her turning around and facing him. This was too much.

“As I said, I don’t see how that is any of your business. To be honest, I’m beginning to wonder what’s with all the questions. What do you want, exactly?”

She knew as soon as the words left her lips that she was going to regret the answer. She could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, his eyes steady as he looked at her.