Prince Daddy & the Nanny (12 page)

“I can't imagine he would hold you responsible.”

“And Riley is very concerned about you, too,” he reminded her.

She smiled at that. “If I'd known a little cut above my eye would change her attitude toward me, I'd have let her take a swing at me weeks ago.”

“I'm not sure that's a strategy I would actually recommend to her next nanny.”

He was only responding to her teasing, but his words were a reminder to both of them that the summer was almost halfway over. And when it was done, Hannah would go back to her own life, and he and his daughter would go on with theirs.

Not so very long ago he'd been thinking about the two months he'd planned to spend at Cielo del Norte as an interminable amount of time. Now that the first month had nearly passed, it didn't seem long enough.

Hannah returned to the media room and resumed her
place at one end of the oversize leather sofa. He'd been sitting at the other end earlier, with Riley as a buffer between them, but he sat in the middle now.

She looked at him warily. “Don't you have phone calls to make or projects to complete?”

“It's almost ten o'clock.”

“That hasn't seemed to matter on any other night.”

She was right. He was in the habit of disappearing back into his office again as soon as he'd said good-night to his daughter. But what Hannah didn't know was that he often just sat behind his desk, doing nothing much of anything except ensuring that he kept a safe and careful distance between himself and the far-too-tempting nanny. And if he was smart, he would have done the same thing tonight, except that he'd made his daughter a promise.

“Riley asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“I'm fine,” she insisted.

“She made me pinky-swear,” he told her.

Her lips curved. “It's sweet of her to worry, but I'm not concussed and I don't need anyone watching over me.”

“I know it,” he acknowledged. “But Riley seems really concerned.”

“A lot of kids are preoccupied by death and dying,” she said. “I would guess it's even more usual for a child who's lost someone close.”

Somehow he knew that she wasn't just talking about Riley anymore. “How old were you when your mom died?” he asked.

“Eight.”

“What happened?”

“There was a malaria epidemic in the village where we were living at the time. I got sick first, and my mom didn't trust that the Swazi doctors knew what they were doing, so she called Phillip. By the time he arrived, I was on my way to recovery, but—” Her gaze shifted away, but not before
he caught a glimpse of the moisture in her eyes. “But while she'd been taking care of me, she'd ignored her own symptoms. By the time the doctors realized that she'd been infected, too, the disease had progressed too far.”

She tucked her feet up beneath her on the sofa. “I thought my dad blamed me,” she confided. “And that's why he sent me away after she died.”

“He sent you away?”

“No one admitted that's what happened. Uncle Phillip said that I would be better off in Tesoro del Mar, that traveling from village to village was no kind of life for a child, and my father agreed. But no one had seemed too concerned about that while my mom was alive, and no one seemed to think about the fact that they were sending me away to live with a man I barely even knew.”

“I'm sorry, Hannah.”

And he was. He couldn't imagine how traumatic it had been for a child who'd just lost her mother to be taken away from her only other parent.

“I'm not. At the time, I was devastated,” she admitted. “But now I realize it was the best thing that could have happened. My uncle gave me not just a home, but a sense of stability and security I'd never had before. He was—and is—a constant presence in my life, the one person I know I can depend on above all others.”

“Where's your father now?”

“Botswana, I think. At least, that's where his last email came from.”

“The one that told you he was getting married again,” he guessed.

“How did you know about that?”

“You once told me that you wanted me to work on my relationship with Riley so that she didn't get an email from me telling her that she had a new stepmother.”

She winced. “I was upset. The message wasn't that he
was getting married but that he'd already gotten married. He didn't even think to tell me beforehand. And probably the only reason he thought to share the news at all is that they're coming to Tesoro del Mar in the fall and he hopes I'll get a chance to meet her.”

“I can see how that would have pulled the proverbial rug out from under you,” he admitted.

“But it shouldn't have,” she said now. “Because the truth is, I don't know him well enough to be surprised by anything he does. In the past eighteen years, since Uncle Phillip brought me here, I've only seen my father half a dozen times.

“His work has always been more important to him than anything else. And I guess, when you trust that you've been called to a higher mission, it needs to be a priority,” she acknowledged. “And I know he believes in what he's doing. He goes to the darkest corners of the world, he sees families living in poverty and he sees children struggling to learn, but he never saw me.”

She sighed. “It hurt. For a long time. But I finally realized that he was doing what he needed to do, because the people he helps out need him more than I ever did.”

He didn't think it was as simple as that, and he was furious with her father for turning a blind eye to the needs of his child and angry with himself because he'd been doing the same thing to Riley. And he was so very grateful to Hannah for making him see it and helping him to be a better father to his daughter.

“So will you go to meet her—your father's new wife?”

“Probably.” Her lips curved just a little.

He lifted a brow, silently inquiring.

“My friend Karen suggested I show up with a husband in tow,” she explained.

“Getting married just to make a point seems a little extreme, don't you think?”

“More than a little, but I don't think she was suggesting an actual legal union.”

“Have you ever been married?” he asked curiously.

“No.”

“Engaged?”

“Haven't we covered enough of my family history for one night?”

He figured that was a
yes,
but decided to respect her wish not to talk about it. At least for now. “So what are we going to talk about for the rest of the night?”

“If you're really determined to hang out here babysitting me, that's your choice, Your Highness. But I'm going to watch some television.”

“It's my choice,” he agreed. “And it's my TV.” And he snapped up the remote before she could.

She narrowed her gaze. “Don't make me wrestle you for it.”

“Would you really?” He was certainly willing to let her tackle him. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more intrigued he was by the possibility.

“I would, but I'm supposed to be resting.”

Another fantasy ruined, he handed her the remote.

T
he rain was pouring down when Michael pulled into the drive at Cielo del Norte after a quick trip into town to meet with an old friend. It had been gray and drizzling for the better part of three days, but now the skies had completely opened up.

As he ran through the deluge to the front door, a flash of lightning split the sky, almost immediately followed by a crash of thunder. He winced, knowing how much Riley hated storms. If she was awakened by one in the night, he'd sometimes find her trying to crawl under the covers of his bed, her eyes squeezed tight and her hands pressed against her ears.

Inside, he shook the rain off of his coat and hung it in the closet. From the kitchen, he could smell the mouthwatering scents of roasted pork and sweet potatoes, but it was the music he heard in the distance that drew him down the hall.

Not surprisingly, it was coming from the music room. But
it certainly wasn't Riley practicing piano. In fact, it wasn't anything he had ever heard before. And when he pushed open the door, he saw something that he was certain he'd never seen before.

Riley was dancing—spinning and twirling, with her arms flying and her legs kicking. Hannah was right into the music with her, hips wriggling and body shimmying. And both of them were singing at the tops of their lungs about…he wasn't sure if he was unable to decipher the lyrics or if they just didn't make any sense, but both his daughter and her nanny seemed to know all the words.

He winced at the volume of the music, but he knew there was no way that Riley could hear the thunder over whatever it was that they were listening to—and no way they could have heard him enter the room. So he just leaned back against the wall and enjoyed the show for a few minutes.

One song led into the next, and they continued to sing and laugh and dance, and he continued to watch, marveling at the sheer happiness that radiated from his little girl. He couldn't remember ever seeing her like this—just being silly and having fun, and he realized that Hannah had been right about this, too. His daughter, despite all of her talents and gifts, needed a chance to simply be a child.

Impossible as it seemed, Riley's smile grew even wider when she finally spotted him.

“Look, Daddy! We're dancing!”

While Riley continued to move, Hannah's steps faltered when she realized that she and the child were no longer alone, and he would have bet that the flush in her cheeks was equal parts embarrassment and exertion.

“Don't let me interrupt,” he said. “Please.”

But she went to the boom box and lowered the volume, at least a little.

He picked up the CD case, looked at the cover, then lifted his brows.

“Grace let Riley borrow it,” she told him, then grinned. “In exchange, Riley gave her a copy of Stravinsky's
Rite of Spring.
”

He was suprised to learn that his little girl, who had a profound appreciation for the classics, could find such pleasure in jumping up and down and wiggling her hips to something called
Yo Gabba Gabba,
but he wasn't at all disappointed by the recent changes in her behavior.

“So what precipitated this dance-a-thon?”

“The precipitation,” Hannah said, and smiled. “The rain made us give up on the idea of going outside, but Riley had a lot of energy to burn off.”

“She's changed so much in only a few weeks,” he noted.

“You say that in a way that I'm not sure if you approve or disapprove of the changes,” she said uncertainly.

“I approve,” he assured her. “I guess I'm still just getting used to it. I would never have said that she was unhappy before—but I've also never seen her as obviously happy as she is now. And to hear her laugh—the sound is so pure and full of joy.”

“She's a wonderful little girl,” Hannah assured him.

He had to smile, remembering that it hadn't been so long ago that she'd warned him that his daughter was turning into a spoiled brat. But then she'd taken Riley out of the familiar, structured world that she knew and changed all of the rules.

And while there had been a few growing pains in the beginning—and he was sure there would be more to come—he couldn't deny that he was impressed by the results.

“With a real passion for dance,” the nanny continued.

Watching his daughter move, he couldn't deny that it was true. She might not have a natural talent, but she certainly had enthusiasm.

“My sister has a friend who—”

“No,” Hannah interrupted quickly, then softened her refusal with a smile.

He frowned. “How do you even know what I was going to say?”

“Because I know how your mind works. And Riley doesn't need any more lessons. At least, not yet. Just let her have some fun for a while. And then, if she does want more formal training, enroll her in a class where she can learn along with other kids.”

When the current song came to an end, Hannah snapped the music off.

“It's not done,” Riley protested. “There's still three more songs.”

“How many times has she listened to this CD?” Michael wondered.

“I've lost count,” Hannah admitted. Then to Riley she said, “It's almost time for dinner, so you need to go wash up.”

The little girl collapsed into a heap on the floor. “I'm too tired.”

Michael had to smile. “If you're not too tired to keep dancing, you can't be too tired to twist the taps on a faucet,” he said, picking her up off of the floor to set her on her feet. “Go on.”

With a weary sigh, the princess headed off.

Hannah took the CD out of the machine and returned it to its case.

“Did you have any formal dance training?” he asked curiously.

She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Ballet, because my uncle Phillip was a lot like you in that he wanted to give me every possible opportunity. But after two years, my teacher told him that she couldn't in good conscience continue to take his money when it was obvious that I had less than zero talent.”

“She did not say that,” Michael protested.

“She did,” Hannah insisted. “And truthfully, I was relieved.”

“You looked pretty good to me when you were spinning around with Riley.”

“We were just having fun.”

“Will you dance with me?” he asked her.

She looked up, surprise and wariness in her eyes. “Wh-what?”

He moved to the CD player, pressed the button for the satellite radio—and jumped back when heavy metal screamed out at him. Hannah laughed while he adjusted the volume and scrolled through the preset channels until he found a familiar song.

“This one was at the top of the charts in my first year of college,” he told her, and offered his hand.

“I don't recognize it,” she admitted.

“Then I won't have to worry about you trying to lead,” he teased.

Though she still looked hesitant, she finally put her hand in his.

“You really don't know this song?” he asked, after they'd been dancing for about half a minute.

She shook her head.

“Okay, now I have to ask—how old are you, Hannah?”

“Twenty-six.”

Which meant that she was a dozen years younger than he, and while he'd been in college, she'd still been in grade school. But that was a long time ago, and there was no doubt that she was now all grown up. And soft and feminine and undeniably sexy.

He drew in a breath and the scent of her invaded his senses and clouded his mind.

“Hannah—”

She tipped her head back to meet his gaze, and whatever
words he'd intended to say flew out of his mind when he looked into those blue-gray eyes and saw the desire he felt reflected back at him.

He'd been fighting his feelings for her from the beginning, and to what effect? He still wanted her, now more than ever. And if she wanted him, too—and the look in her eyes made him believe that she did—then what was the harm in letting the attraction between them follow through to its natural conclusion?

They were, after all, both adults…but the little girl peeking around the corner was definitely not.

 

“Caridad said to tell you that it's dinnertime,” Riley announced.

Hannah wanted to scream with frustration.

For just a minute, she'd been sure that the prince was going to kiss her again. And his gaze, when it flickered back to her now, was filled with sincere regret.

Regret that they'd been interrupted?

Or regret that he'd almost repeated the “mistake” of a few weeks earlier?

“Thank you for the dance, Hannah,” he said formally.

“It was my pleasure, Your Highness.”

He lifted her hand to kiss it.

She wanted a real kiss—not some lame fairy-tale facsimile. But then his lips brushed the back of her hand, and she felt the tingles all the way down to her toes.

It wasn't the passionate lip-lock with full frontal contact that she craved, but it wasn't exactly lame, either. And that made her wonder: if a casual touch could wield such an impact, what would happen if the man ever really touched her?

She was almost afraid to find out—and more afraid that she never would.

 

The next day, the sun shone clear and bright in the sky. After being cooped up for the better part of three days, Riley was thrilled to get outside and run around. In the morning, Hannah took her for a long walk on the beach. Michael watched from his office as they fed the gulls and wrote messages in the sand, and he wished he was with them.

He tore his attention from the window and back to his work. He was putting the final touches on a project for the upcoming National Diabetes Awareness Campaign, and if he finished it up this morning, then he could spend the whole afternoon with Riley and Hannah.

He wasn't sure when he'd started thinking of Hannah as Hannah and not “Miss Castillo” or his daughter's nanny—or when he'd started looking forward to spending time with her, too. In the beginning, when every step in his relationship with Riley seemed both awkward and tentative, he'd been grateful for her guidance. But somewhere along the line, he'd begun to enjoy her company and thought they might actually be friends. Except that he was still fighting against his body's desire to get her naked.

He pushed that idea from his mind and forced himself to get back to work.

He did finish the project by lunch, and afterward Riley invited him down to the beach to build castles in the sand. It was an offer he couldn't refuse, and he wasn't just surprised but disappointed when Hannah begged off. She claimed to want to catch up on some emails, but he knew that she was really trying to give him some one-on-one time with his daughter.

He appreciated her efforts. After all, she was only going to be with them until the end of the summer, at which time he and Riley were going to have to muddle through on their own—or muddle through the adjustment period with another new nanny. The thought made him uneasy, but he refused
to delve too deeply into the reasons why. It was easier to believe that he was concerned about his daughter than to acknowledge that he might actually miss Hannah when she was gone.

After castle-building, they went swimming to wash the sand off, then Riley talked him into whacking some balls around the court with her. Hannah had told him that Riley was learning a lot from Kevin, and he was pleased to see that it was true. By the time they were finished on the court, he noticed that Hannah had come outside and was sitting on one of the lounge chairs on the terrace.

Riley spotted her at almost the same moment, and she went racing ahead. By the time Michael had reached the bottom step, his daughter was already at the top. Then she climbed right up into her nanny's lap and rested her head against her shoulder.

“It looks like you wore her out on the tennis court,” Hannah said to him.

“She's had a busy day,” he noted, dropping down onto the edge of the other chair.

Riley nodded her head, her eyes already starting to drift shut. “I'm ready for quiet time now.”

Hannah smiled at his daughter's code word for “nap.” “Quiet time's okay,” she agreed. “But you can't fall asleep because it's going to be time for dinner soon.”

The little girl yawned. “I'm not hungry.”

“Caridad was making lasagna,” Michael reminded her. “And that's one of your favorites.”

“Is Hannah going to burn the garlic bread again?”

The nanny sighed. “I'm never going to live that down, am I?”

His daughter giggled.

“Well, in answer to your question, I can promise you that I am
not
going to burn the garlic bread because Caridad won't let me in the kitchen while she's cooking anymore.”

“I'm glad,” Riley said. “Because if you were helping her cook, you couldn't be here with me.”

Hannah's lips curved as the little girl snuggled against her, but the smile faltered as she caught Michael's gaze.

“Is something wrong?” she asked quietly.

“What?” He realized he was scowling, shook his head. “No.”

But he could tell that she was unconvinced, and he couldn't blame her. Because the truth was,
everything
about this situation was wrong.

She shouldn't be there. She shouldn't be on
that
chair on
this
deck cuddling with his daughter. That was
Sam's
chair—he'd painted it that particularly garish shade of lime green because Sam had thought it was a fun color. And this was
their
special place—where they used to come to escape the craziness of the world together. And Riley was
their
little girl—the child that his wife had given her life to bring into the world.

He felt a pang in his chest. Caridad was right—Riley needed more than a nanny, she needed her mother. But that was something he couldn't give her. Sam was gone. Forever.