The Billionaire's Nanny: A BWWM Romantic Comedy (7 page)

Corbin and I both shake our heads.

“It’s most common in ages 5-10 or so, but not unheard of in younger or older patients.”

“What is it?” I ask. “Is it serious?”

“Nope. If that’s what this is, she may have no other symptoms, might seem to have a mild cold. Then, in a few days or so, she’ll have a rash. They call it a ‘slapped cheek’ rash because it’s often bright on the face, but it can be all over the body. It doesn’t usually itch. And it’ll be there anywhere from a few hours to a few days and it might even come back, faintly, for a week or more. In adults, it can cause sore joints and more flu-like symptoms, but in kids, it is no big deal. Most people never even know they have it. They just get a weird rash, it goes away, and that’s that. Once you get it, you don’t get it again. So Maeve just got it out of the way early.”

A nurse comes in and takes the IV out of Maeve’s arm, waking her. She cries weakly, but smiles when she sees me there, reaching up her arms.

“Go ahead…Auntie,” says the nurse with a look that suggests she knows I’m not Aunt Vanessa.

Maeve feels heavier and warmer than usual in my arms and she snuggles her head against my neck. Corbin rubs her back.

“I’m glad you came,” he says. His expression is complicated, like he’s sorting something in his head. Finally, he says, “Vanessa, will you come stay with her tonight? I’m worried about her being alone and I don’t want to ask Marta.”

I’m
so
tired. But I know I’m not going to be able to sleep if I’m worrying about this little girl. So, I say, “Yes.”

Marta drives the Range Rover so I can sit in the back with Maeve in Corbin’s car, another Rover, but even fancier than the one I drive. We’re quiet on the way home, Maeve sleeping and Corbin and I are exhausted. When we get back to the house, he lets Marta go on to bed and follows me up to Maeve’s room.

“Um, should I just sleep on the floor?” I’m not sure what he expects of me. Maeve is still sound asleep in my arms.

“Oh, um, no. Here, let me get her crib mattress. We can put it on the floor next to the bed in the room next door.”

The room is another perfectly decorated suite, this one in soothing blues. I’m way too tired to really look around, though.

Corbin wrestles the crib mattress in and sets it on the floor near the big bed. I lay Maeve down and she doesn’t even stir.

“She’s really out,” I say,“but I think her fever is much lower. Maybe gone.”

Corbin hands me a little bottle of pink liquid. “Here’s the Tylenol, just in case. Vanessa, thank you again for coming to the hospital, thank you for coming here tonight. I know I should be able to handle one baby’s fever–I ran a textile mill, I run a winery!–but it just…felt like too much. So thanks.”

“No problem,” I say. “I’m going to try to get a couple more hours sleep.” I walk to the row of blinds and let them fall down over the dawn-kissed view outside. After Corbin quietly closes the door behind him, I turn out the lamp and collapse onto the bed without even turning down the covers. I’m just too damned tired. Please, little Maeve, stay asleep.

I wake when even the blinds can’t keep out the bright sunlight. When I remember where I am and why, I startle and look over the edge of the bed. Maeve is still sleeping peacefully and beside her, on the floor, is Corbin, his arm draped up on the crib mattress.

Gently, I get up and squat down to put my hand against the baby’s forehead. Cool. My touch wakes her, however, and her eyes flutter open. “Ka!” she says happily, waking her Daddy.

Corbin looks a bit confused as he wakes, but he, too, smiles when he sees me.

“Been awhile since I woke up on the floor and didn’t know where I was,” he says. His cheeks are scruffy with dark beard growth and he looks impossibly handsome.

“Da!” says Maeve, sitting up.

“Good morning, sweetie,” he says to her. "I’m glad to see you feeling better.

“Didn’t trust me?” I ask, teasing.

"Well, I
did
, but you didn’t stir when I came in, so maybe I shouldn’t have," he smiles so that I know he’s not serious. “I couldn’t sleep. I just had to check on her. She was fine, obviously, but I decided to just stay up here. Can’t recommend the floor. I feel like I’m 80.” He gets up gingerly, stretching his sore body.

Maeve reaches for me, making a little “eh eh eh” noise. “Bet you could use a dry diaper after all those hospital fluids.” I pick her up and yeah, that diaper is soaked. I don’t want to go into the nursery, though, afraid Corbin will just vanish again.

Maybe if I just talk to him as I go, he’ll have to follow me… "So should I call her doctor today, does she
have
a doctor?" I ask as I leave, and yes, he follows me.

“No, it never occurred to me. How do I pick one?”

I look over my shoulder at him, “I don’t know, either. I’ll ask my Grandma.”

As I put Maeve on the changing table, I look at Corbin, he’s lost in thought.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“How do people know what to do?” he asks. “Is everyone this hopeless at babies and they just fake it?”

I laugh a little. “I am. And you bought it.”

“Vanessa?”

I look up again, his tone sounds serious.

“I want you to move in. Full time nanny.”

“What? I just admitted to you that I have no idea what I’m doing and you think ‘That’s it! Full time, then!’?”

“It just feels right when you’re here. Maeve trusts you, so I trust you. Will you?”

“Corbin, I have to go back to teaching in September. I love Maeve, but my job comes first.”

“I know, I know, I’ll keep looking, but you could help me pick the new nanny. You wouldn’t have to commute any more. I’ll pay your rent if you can’t break your lease! Say you will.”

Those blue eyes were pulling a Jedi Mind Trick on me, I knew. I didn’t have to go back to the bar. I could stick it to Carol, which would give me great joy.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Chapter Five

“Manipulative bastard” or “Strong enough to admit vulnerability”? I prefer to think I’m the latter, but god knows Elise threw the first one in my face enough.

The truth? I really want Vanessa to move in.

And okay, it’s not entirely because she’s so good with Maeve. She is! I can see she’s brushing it off, trying to convince me that Maeve is just as happy with Marta or, when she’s really trying to butter me up, with me. But I can see that Maeve’s blue eyes light up when Vanessa comes into the room. I suspect mine do, too.

See? I’m not even being manipulative. It’s just true. Yeah, I may have played up the whole “I need you to be here for the baby” angle. But I was only enhancing the truth. I can see that even my powers of charm might not convince Vanessa to stay on once the summer is over, so I need to maximize the time I have. She saves rent money, Marta and Connie are freed up a bit more for their jobs managing this ridiculous house, and I get what I want. Or at least some of it. The rest I’ll have to work on.

I’m not naive enough to believe in love at first sight, but there was definitely chemistry at first sight. Even before she took Maeve so I could take a phone call in that cafe, I was drawn to Vanessa. I watched her tend to the other table, noticed the dimple that’s only on one side, the way her eyebrows move as her expression changes. She was clearly a terrible waitress, flustered and distracted, but there was something magnetic about her. Something more than just her flawless skin or her curves or…

Anyway. She’s staying. I’m thrilled.

I offered to pay her rent so that she’d still have the apartment if–
when
–she goes back to her teaching job, but she told me she was very happy to find another place. She also waved away my offer to help her move– well, to send someone to help her move. She said if she thought she needed help, she’d have her best friend come up from Oakland. Apparently there’s not a whole lot to pack up, as the apartment had come furnished.

But now I have to focus on this stack of paper on my desk. I keep clicking over to the tab that is open to the security feed of the front gate. When I first arrived, I found all the cameras pretty damned creepy, but I have to say, knowing I’m just a click away from watching Vanessa pull up or come in the front door or play with Maeve in the playroom…okay, it’s pretty creepy.

My predecessor, it seems, was convinced the staff were just itching for the chance to clean the whole Domaine out for re-sale on the mean streets of Napa. The black market for heavy antiques is not what you might think, but I have found the cameras useful–I was able to see Maeve put that button in her mouth, for instance.

I didn’t have to exaggerate my panic for effect that time. I’d just clicked over in time to see Vanessa’s lovely rear end as she set Maeve on the rug. She walked out of frame and I saw that chubby hand reach out and pick up the button. The cold hand of fear closed around my heart instantly. I think I stood up even before I saw the look of terror on her little face. I bolted from my office–partly to avoid having to watch, I think, but certainly to get to her in time.

To find her alive and sobbing in Vanessa’s arms when I burst into the room…I was so relieved I was nearly sick. As the gratitude and the left-over fear washed over me, I knew I needed Vanessa to stay. So maybe I was very sincere. Maybe I embellished just a little.

Looking at the stack of papers before me, I have to wonder if Bob Jenkins wasn’t being spiteful. Sure, the story was that he claimed he was “too old” to learn to digitize all the information, to track the vineyard in a spreadsheet. But really, how hard is it to type it in instead of write in a crabbed, smeary pencil? I’d throttle that old man if I saw him now. But I imagine he’s on a beach in Key West, waving chickens away from his never-ending margarita.

I’m grateful to my folks for handing Domaine Chanterelle over to me, I’m glad I got out of Boston and away from all the prying eyes and sympathetic glances and low whispers. I regret leaving my work with the textile mills, though. I’ll miss those guys and the trips to India. Can’t really haul a baby to Gujarat, though.

So here I am, a non-drinker running a winery. A Bostonian living on the West Coast. A selfish bastard trying to raise a child. I need help for all those things, I guess.

I’m trying to figure out if an entry says “grafted Chardonnay” or “giraffes Old nanny” when I hear an engine on the security feed. Vanessa is coming through the gate. I happily abandon my work and head downstairs.

There’s someone in the passenger seat, probably the friend from Oakland. I wave them to go around the back entrance. I’m hoping my grin doesn’t look too idiotic when Vanessa gets out of the driver’s seat.

“Welcome home!,” I say, giving her my most winning smile.

She laughs, a throaty chuckle I find impossibly sexy. “Thanks, honey,” she volleys back. Can’t say I mind the sound of that. “This is Asia,” she says as a tall, thin woman gets out of the Range Rover, holding a sad looking plant in a clear vase.

I step forward to offer Asia my hand, but she just offers an elbow so she can keep her hold on the plant. “Don’t want to drop Bootsy, he’s had enough trauma today. Nice to meet you.” Asia is beautiful in her own way, athletic with close cropped hair, but my eyes are drawn back to Vanessa.

She swings open the trunk and pulls out one of the cardboard boxes with liquor logos on them. “Perk of being a bartender–sturdy moving boxes.” Before I can even offer to help, she thrusts one into my hands.

I smile. “Follow me to the service elevator, we can lock it in place and just load it up.”

Vanessa was right, she doesn’t have a lot. I know she’s been here at least two years, clearly she travels light. I can’t help but think that would be a good thing if I took her to India…

“Where’s Maeve? Sleeping?”

Vanessa and Asia step into the elevator and I close the doors behind us. “Connie has her today, Marta needed to help her mother go to a doctor’s appointment. I promised we’d just order pizza or something for dinner, but still she worried.”

“Oh, good. I’ll just get all this stuff into the room and then I can take over. I can unpack when she’s sleeping.”

“Nope,” I tell her with a smile. “Connie said you should settle in and then relax. She said that moving is hard work and she’ll just watch Maeve today. Clearly, she didn’t know that you travel with not much more than a duffle bag. And a pet plant.”

“I know, right?” says Asia. “I drove all the way up from Oakland to help and she could have done it in, like, two trips.”

“Did I tell you to come or did I tell you not to bother, I forget.” says Vanessa, cocking an eyebrow at her friend.

“Oh, you always say don’t bother, Miss Self Sufficient. I just imagined you trying to drag a couch down the stairs on your own.”

“Well, I’m glad I had you to keep Bootsy from sloshing around, anyway.” She sees my look of confusion and adds, “Bootsy Collins is my betta fish. He lives under the plant.”

When the elevator doors open, I lock it into place and pick up a box. “Let’s get you to your chambers.” I lead them to the room beside the nursery, the room where Vanessa stayed the night to keep an eye on Maeve. It takes the three of us only two trips each to get all of her belongings into the room.

Reluctantly, I say, “I guess I should get back to work. Just text if you need anything.”

“I’ll walk you back to the elevator, make sure I didn’t drop anything,” says Vanessa. It’s clearly a ruse.

Once in the hallway, away from the bedroom door, I turn to her. “What’s up?”

She smiles and I see that dimple. "Yeah, I got to thinking…You say you saw Maeve choke on the security camera. Um, where
else
are they? I mean, it’s your right to watch your house, but I feel like I have a right to know
where
I’m being watched." Hurriedly, she adds, “Not that I’m going to steal the china or anything, I just want to know where I shouldn’t…pick my nose.”

I’ve felt guilty about spying on her, so getting called on it makes me blush, I’m sure. But I can answer truthfully, “Maeve’s crib, playroom rug, north end of each hallway, front door, back door, front gate. That’s it.” She looks relieved. “So be sure to do any nose picking while facing away from the north end.”