Single Dad Needs Nanny Page 8

  Hearing the tears in Amanda’s voice, Nikki gave in. Amanda needed distracting, and Nikki needed to talk. It was also a reminder of how vulnerable Amanda was, how much she needed Nikki to stay close. Which meant no more stolen kisses with the boss.

  “Okay, the truth is I asked him out.”

  “What?” Amanda squealed, causing Mickey to flinch in his sleep. “What about the agency rules? I thought you were determined to keep your distance.”

  Nikki rubbed Mickey’s belly until he settled. “I was. I am. It’s just keeping my objectivity is harder than I anticipated.”

  “Duh. The man is gorgeous.”

  “He’s also intelligent, brave, dedicated and caring, though he tries hard to hide the last one.”

  A furrow marred Amanda’s brows as her concerned gaze met Nikki’s. “You’re falling for him. Oh, babe, you have to stop.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I know you and your soft heart. These two are getting to you. Why else would you ask Trace out?”

  Nikki waved a dismissive hand. “It wasn’t like that. We were in the middle of a heavy moment. I just wanted to distract him.”

  “By asking him on a date? Are you out of your mind?” Amanda shifted in the uncomfortable chair. “What was the heavy moment about?”

  Nikki explained about the tour and the difficult discussion, carefully playing down the part where she’d fallen apart in his arms. “He was trying so hard to make me feel better. I just needed to change the subject.”

  “So you asked him out?”

  “I told him I wanted to shoot his gun.”

  Amanda just stared at Nikki, slowly shaking her head. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  It was Nikki’s turn to shake her head.

  “He could interpret that in so many ways!”

  “Amanda.” Nikki stopped her. “It wasn’t like that.” Oh, God, it had been exactly like that. “Nothing is going to come of it, so there’s no reason to rehash the whole thing.”

  “I thought you needed me to talk you down from the edge.”

  “Let’s say you scared me straight and call it done. I’m going to get us some food. Stay put and keep an eye on Mickey.” Grateful for a chance to escape, Nikki slipped from her seat.

  “Mickey wants chocolate cake,” Amanda said hopefully.

  “Yeah, right. Mickey’s playing hooky, and his doctor said he needed to control his weight over the last month.” Leaving her sister muttering about mean doctors, Nikki headed to the back of the room toward the buffet table.

  A small cluster of women had gathered near the end of the table.

  “I’d do it, but I promised several people I’d address the land issue,” a slender blond woman said.

  “Yeah, I’m supposed to take notes for my neighbor because she had to work late,” plump redhead added. “I have her toddler and mine. I was hoping to put both kids in childcare.”

  “I wish Cindy had let us know sooner she wouldn’t be here.” The owner of the diner planted her hands on her hips and looked over the crowd.

  “We all want to hear about the Anderson endowment. I just know the men are going to want to use the land for another sports park, when this is the perfect opportunity to bring a little culture to Paradise Pines.”

  “What about your niece, Sarah? Can she come down and babysit?” the blonde asked.

  The redhead shook her head. “She’s working at the theater in El Cajon this summer.”

  Nikki stepped forward. “Perhaps I can help. I don’t mind watching the kids during the meeting.”

  As one, the three women turned hopeful gazes toward her.

  Trace stood in the corner, his gaze alert on the crowd, talking to a couple of local businessmen. All conversation stopped when Nikki appeared next to his group.

  “Gentlemen.” She acknowledged the men with one sweeping smile as she handed a plate of food and a cup of punch to Trace. “Carry on,” she advised, as she turned on her heels and returned to the buffet.

  As preoccupied as she’d been in her hit-and-run delivery of the plate in his hand, there was no way she’d gone unnoticed by the men he’d been talking to.

  Sure enough, Trace pulled his glance away from her to find the two men silent, their gazes locked onto Nikki’s black-and-white curves.

  “Hmm. Why do you rate the special treatment?” asked Cord Sullivan, Mayor and owner of the local nursery.

  Trace sent his friend a quelling glare.

  “So that’s the nanny? Nice,” said Parker, the local barber, who was loud and coarse by nature. His eyes on Nikki’s retreating rear end, the rotund barber was oblivious to Trace’s displeasure.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Parker.” Trace sent him a killer stare. “She’s my employee.”

  “Yeah, that’s a sweet setup you have going.”

  Trace invaded the man’s space. “What did you say?”

  Parker nearly swallowed his tongue to keep another suggestive comment behind his teeth. He blinked and backed up a step. Maybe the man had more sense than Trace had given him credit for. “Hey, I’m just saying she’s fine.” Parker looked after Nikki again. “If you’re not interested, maybe I’ll give her a call.”

  Over Trace’s dead body. As if Nikki would give the older man a second glance. She was all sassy honesty, and Parker was brash and oily.

  “Don’t bother,” Trace said, his tone hard, his posture stiff.

  “Right.” Parker nodded and winked. “Message received.”

  Trace shook his head, but didn’t correct the man. Better that he think Trace and Nikki were involved. That way, the fool would leave her alone.

  Not that Trace was jealous.

  He had no right to that emotion.

  It’s a date…The words echoed through his head and he wondered again what he’d been thinking.

  And that amazing kiss.

  Now, there was evidence he’d hadn’t been thinking with his mind. He couldn’t remember the last time his body had held sway over his head. Maybe being sex-starved and lonely had finally taken its toll, making him delusional.

  Nikki had completely absorbed his thoughts during the brief meeting with the city council. Thankfully he’d known what the Mayor was announcing, or he’d have been clueless going into the meeting.

  He could not date his nanny. More, he’d be a fool to date Nikki Rhodes. No way he could live up to her emotional standards.

  Look what had happened the last time he’d let loneliness direct his actions. He’d ended up with a strained marriage, a son he didn’t know and a hot piece of fluff living in his garage.

  Okay, that was harsh. But he needed to stay real and he had no business admiring the strength and fortitude hidden under frivolous ruffles and lace. Besides, they were totally incompatible. She liked to chat and he wanted silence. She had big-time control issues and he liked to be in charge. She loved kids and he couldn’t even relate to his own son.

  Bottom line: he had nothing in common with the loving and dedicated Ms. Rhodes.

  Hell, if Donna had lived Trace had no doubt they would have ended up another divorce statistic. Just like his mom and his old man.

  Best he forget he’d ever mentioned a date.

  Besides, she probably wouldn’t even be around to accept an invitation. If a teaching job came along she’d be off and on her way, leaving him and Mickey to pick up the pieces of their lives without her.

  No—wait. That had been his mother.

  Oh, yeah, serious trouble. In spades. It was not a good thing when he was comparing his nanny to his long-lost mother.

  Chapter Eight

  “HEY, little boy, we’re home.” Nikki parked the stroller on the front deck, unstrapped Mickey and lifted him up. “Are you ready for a snack? I’m ready for a cold drink.”

  She unlocked the door and stepped inside. As usual she went to set the diaper bag on the sofa, and just stopped herself from dropping it on Trace. He lay stretched out on his back, fast asleep.

 
“Oops,” she whispered. “Daddy’s taking a nap.”

  Trace home in the middle of the day was far from usual.

  Still in his uniform, including gun belt, he looked as if he’d come in, sat down and crashed.

  “Daddy night-night?”

  “Shh, yes—Daddy is sleeping.” Not wanting to disturb Trace, she took Mickey to the kitchen and put him in his highchair with some grapes. A glance at the clock on the microwave showed she and Mickey had been away just over an hour. How long had Trace been here? And how long could he stay?

  Checking to make sure Mickey was okay, she picked up the phone and called the Sheriff’s station. After Lydia answered, Nikki explained the situation.

  “I just wanted to make sure he doesn’t have any appointments or anything I might need to wake him for,” she finished.

  “Let me check his schedule.” Lydia went away and Garth Brooks sang about the rodeo. “He has a meeting, but I’ll call and reschedule for tomorrow. Let him sleep. He’s had a couple of late nights.”

  “Yeah, it was after eleven when he brought Mickey to me last night. I kept the baby for the rest of the night, so I don’t know what time he got home.”

  “It was a bad scene last night. Domestic disturbance. Trace went with the wife and kids to the hospital, then saw them settled in a shelter. Husband will do jail time if she follows through with pressing charges.”

  “Tough night.” How many times had Nikki already said that to Trace? She admired him for his courage and fortitude. His wasn’t an easy job, but a necessary one, and he handled it with calm efficiency.

  “Tough job.” Lydia echoed Nikki’s thoughts. “Tell him to forget about coming in unless I call him. I’ll get the guys to split his shift. He deserves the rest.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Nikki answered dryly. “But I make no promises.”

  Lydia laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you to. The man does have a stubborn streak.”

  “Do tell. Duty is his life.”

  “But life doesn’t have to be all duty.” With that cryptic message Lydia hung up.

  Did she mean duty didn’t always have to be a heavy load? That the lighter side of responsibility was companionship and caring?

  Nikki bet Trace didn’t see it that way. Now that father and son were well acquainted—they didn’t run the other way when they saw each other coming—it was time they started enjoying each other’s company.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Finished with his snack, Mickey banged his empty bowl on the highchair tray and called out for his father.

  “Shh.” Nikki shushed the boy again, and quickly snagged the bowl away from him. “Daddy is sleeping. And it’s time for you to take a nap, too.” She wiped his hands and face. “That’ll give me time to figure out an activity for the both of you for tonight.”

  “Night-night?” he said, a scowl forming on his tiny features.

  “It’s daytime, so just a nap.”

  “No,” he protested, even while a little fist rubbed his eyes.

  “Yes, Mickey is a sleepy boy.”

  “Boo?” He asked after his favorite stuffed animal.

  “Yep, it’s Boo’s naptime, too.” Nikki settled Mickey and his stuffed giraffe, Boo, down, and then put in a load of laundry. While she puttered and cleaned, she plotted.

  A barbecue might be just the thing. The boys could cook the meat while she put together a salad or dessert. Humming, she took out a couple of steaks to thaw.

  Something soft and damp landed on Trace’s cheek, then slid toward the corner of his mouth. He opened one eye and found Mickey in his walker, right next to the couch.

  “Hey, buddy.” Trace yawned. The kid was cute, but the curls had to go. He made a mental note for Nikki to schedule a trip to the barbershop.

  Mickey flashed his four-toothed grin and patted Trace’s cheek again. “Daddy night-night?”

  Trace stretched and glanced at the window. He hadn’t slept that late, had he? No, the sun still shone, but the shadows indicated he’d slept longer than he’d intended.

  “Nope just a nap.” He sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Now Daddy has to go back to work.”

  “No, no.” Mickey jumped up and down in the walker, stood still, and then jumped some more. “No, no.”

  “Good boy, work those muscles.” Some of the anxiety Trace had held on to since the visit to the doctor’s office eased. In the past couple of weeks the boy had grown visibly stronger.

  Trace glanced at his watch and groaned. “Great. I missed my appointment with the principal.”

  “No, Lydia rescheduled you for tomorrow,” Nikki said from behind him.

  Frowning, he turned so he saw her. She stood at the kitchen table. She pulled one of his T-shirts from a laundry basket, folded it, and set the shirt in a pile on a clean towel she had laid out on the table.

  “How do you know that?”

  “You were dead to the world when we got back. I didn’t want to wake you unless you had something scheduled so I called Lydia. She said it had been quiet today and to let you sleep, and that you shouldn’t bother coming in unless she called you. She was going to get some of the guys to cover for you.”

  “Huh, the woman thinks she runs the station. Late nights come with the territory. I can handle it.”

  “The point is you don’t have to. Lydia juggled the schedule.” She hit him with a knowing look. “You’re just afraid the guys will think you’re weak because you came home for a nap.”

  “I didn’t come for a nap. I brought home a file last night to go through before my meeting today and I forgot it this morning.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “Which means you came in, sat down and conked out. I think that says something.”

  Picking up a couple of plastic blocks from the floor, he placed them on the tray of Mickey’s walker. The boy immediately grabbed one in each hand and clapped them together.

  When she was right, she was right. Deciding to drop an argument he couldn’t win, Trace addressed a new issue. “I told you not to bother doing my laundry.”

  “I’m not doing your laundry. I’m doing Mickey’s laundry,” she said, as she shook out another extra-large T-shirt, crisply folded it and set it on top of two others.

  “Either those are my shirts, or you’re dating a man named Mickey.”

  She grinned. “They are your shirts. But I only threw them in because I needed to fill up the load. You wouldn’t want me to waste important resources, would you?”

  “You always have an answer, don’t you?”

  Standing, he rubbed a hand over Mickey’s downy soft hair. He was now trying to eat the blocks. Trace maneuvered the walker into the middle of the room, giving Mickey space to move around. He immediately pushed himself back three inches. Backward was his main directional pull. He still needed to master forward.

  “I am a teacher. I’m supposed to have the answers.”

  Trace hid a chuckle in a cough. Not wise to encourage the woman. She already challenged his authority at every curve. But she did make him laugh.

  “And the towels?” He fingered the stack next to his shirts.

  She shrugged. “I love the feel and smell of a warm towel fresh from the dryer. It’s a small delight. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “Liar.”

  “Moi?” she asked, all innocence. “Not about this.”

  “You’re spoiling me, Ms. Rhodes.” Loose gold tendrils curled over her ears, and he fought the desire to test the sunshine softness. “And I like it too much.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I think we’re past the Ms. Rhodes stage, don’t you?”

  “I think it’s prudent.”

  “And I think it’s too late for that.”

  “You mean, because of the kiss?” Of course because of the kiss. The taste of her, the feel of her in his arms, still haunted him.

  “Yeah.” She met his gaze, then looked away, checking on Mickey in the living room. And Little Miss Ostrich surprised him when she asked, “You want t
o talk about it?”

  “Absolutely not. I’m doing my best to forget it ever happened.”

  That earned him a coy glance from under dark lashes. “How’s that working for you?”

  “It’s not. But it’s prudent.”

  “Hmm.” She seemed to consider his diversionary tactics. “I thought you believed in confronting issues head-on.”

  “Well, Teach, I’m learning new things from you all the time.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes.

  She continued to tuck and fold, and he sighed. Maybe she’d brought it up for reasons of her own. “Do you want to talk about the kiss?”

  Her brow furrowed while she thought over his question. The myriad of emotions in her amazing golden eyes matched much of what he felt: confusion, attraction, regret and more.

  “Yes,” she finally allowed. But she chewed her lip, not saying anything further, obviously struggling for the right words.

  Feeling defensive, he assured her, “You don’t have to worry. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  Her gaze on his mouth, half wistful, she nodded. “It can’t happen again. It’s more than just professional ethics, it’s written right into my contract. And I have to stay close to Amanda in case she needs me. I can’t risk losing this job.”

  “Of course.” The tension in his shoulders eased as he realized she hadn’t found his kiss objectionable. It was the situation she stressed over. He shouldn’t care, as the kiss wouldn’t be repeated, but somehow he did.

  “There’s Mickey to think of, too,” she added, concern evident in her earnest expression. “He may get confused by a change in our relationship. He’s making such good progress we don’t want to do anything to jeopardize his growth.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “It’s prudent.” With a small smile, she echoed his earlier assurance. “There is something else I’d like to talk to you about. If you’re not going back to work, I thought you might grill some steaks and we could eat out on the deck and talk.”

  “I should go back.” He checked his watch, saw there was only an hour left of his scheduled time. He’d put in a lot of extra hours lately, so he could justify the time off. And sitting down to a meal and conversation with Nikki sounded really good. All the more reason he should get his butt to work.