Raye Morgan - A Nanny Under the Mistletoe

“I’m almost six, Aunt Libby,” Morgan piped up.

“Yes, you are, sweetie, right after Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I forgot that you’re almost a grown-up.” A smile turned up the corners of her full mouth, then disappeared when she looked at him again.

“Is there a point to the running commentary?” he asked.

“I’d feel more comfortable if you seemed the slightest bit willing to compromise for Morgan’s sake.”

Jess rested his hands on his hips as he studied her. There was something in her voice and a look skipping across her face that made him think her critique of his habitat was more personal than professional. He hadn’t seen her often but their paths had crossed enough for him to know that she was smart, very smart. But he’d never seen this sassy side of her before and wondered if he’d done something to tick her off.

Regardless of her attitude, he would concede that she had a point. “Is it possible to cut me some slack? I wasn’t expecting to have a child dropped—” He glanced at Morgan and tempered his words. “This situation is not something I anticipated.”

“I understand.” For a split second profound sadness stood out in her eyes, reminding him that she’d also lost a friend.

“Look, Libby, let me rephrase. After consulting with Morgan, I will discuss kid-friendly changes to her environment with her nanny.” He looked at his watch again. “If she ever gets here.”

“If she—” Libby’s expression went from sad to surprised. “Did you talk to Ginger Davis?”

“Yes.”

“Personally?”

“I made initial contact. Then my representatives were in negotiations with her regarding the particulars,” he admitted.

“So you never actually spoke with her about the final arrangement?”

The final arrangement? Just like that he felt the need to defend himself. “I’m deeply involved in a massive resort project. My secretary and lawyer handled all the details.” The look in her eyes made him add, “Both are trusted professionals who have been on my payroll for a number of years. I have complete faith in their ability to handle my affairs.”

“So you staffed out the responsibility of child care?”

Her tone was neutral, the question more about information gathering to fully understand the situation. But again his defensive instincts kicked in. “I’ve done my homework regarding The Nanny Network and fulfilled my fiduciary responsibility as Morgan’s guardian. Elizabeth Bradford comes highly recommended and will take exemplary care of Morgan.”

“Elizabeth Bradford is the nanny?”

“Yes.” Something about the way she said it made him brace himself. “Why? Do you know her?”

“I do. And I’m quite sure that she’ll take very good care of Morgan.”

He detected a definite “gotcha” tone to her voice. “What’s going on?”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a joke unfolding at his expense. A surprise was coming and in his opinion that was never a good thing. “Know what?”

She tilted her chin up, just a bit defiantly. “Libby is a nickname for Elizabeth. It probably slipped your mind that my last name is Bradford. That makes me Elizabeth Bradford. Apparently you missed the part in the negotiations where Morgan’s current and future child-care professional are one and the same person. I’m your new nanny.”

Libby knew she shouldn’t be surprised that Jess had introduced himself again and barely remembered the last time he’d seen her. He’d proved over and over that she was about as memorable as a bus bench. Part of her desperately wanted him to notice her. The practical, street-wise part instinctively knew there was as much chance of that as deleting her past and inserting one that included a home where she felt wanted.

More shocking was that he’d been expecting a stranger named Elizabeth Bradford. When Ginger had told her that it was a go for her to be Morgan’s nanny, she’d assumed he knew about and had agreed to the arrangement. Obviously she’d assumed wrong. He’d started the ball rolling then turned everything over to his employees, who didn’t have a clue about them being acquainted.

“Aunt Libby?” The small hand gripped tighter.

“What is it, sweetie?” With an effort Libby kept her tone even and friendly. Kids didn’t miss much going on around them—good and bad. She didn’t want the little girl to sense her concern. If anyone was to blame for this misunderstanding, it was Jess. He’d been too busy to take a personal interest, which was exactly the reason she’d felt the need to stay with Morgan in the first place.

“Is it time for SpongeBob yet?” Morgan asked.

“You’re right. I forgot.” And the distraction would be good, Libby realized. She recognized confusion on Jess’s face. “It’s a cartoon.”

“I knew that. I think. Do you want to watch television?” When the little girl nodded, he pointed into the family room. “Right this way.”

He grabbed the remote from a shelf in the entertainment center then turned on the TV. “What channel?”

Libby wasn’t surprised that he didn’t know off the top of his head. News, sports or movies were probably more his thing. That wasn’t his fault. She told him the numbers that were second nature to her and seconds later the big yellow guy with the quirky smile came on the screen followed by the sound of his squeaky voice.

Wow. It was the most awesomely clear, bright, big picture she’d ever seen up close and personal. Probably it was the best, latest and most expensive technology on the market. A far cry from her small, old, economical set.

Libby touched the little girl. “Look, Morgan. Sponge-Bob has never looked better. What do you think?”

The thin shoulder lifted briefly. “It’s fine.”

“Why don’t you sit on the sofa with your doll?”

Uncertainty glittered in her eyes before she scrambled up onto the big, L-shaped leather corner group. She looked tiny and frightened and Libby hated leaving her by herself, but it was the lesser of two evils. The bigger bad would be this vulnerable child being present for the talk Libby and Jess were obviously going to have.

Ginger was an extraordinarily efficient woman. Because Jess hadn’t handled the negotiations personally, obviously something had been lost in translation. Like the fact that he was already acquainted with Elizabeth Bradford.

“We’ll just be in the other room, kiddo.” She leaned down for a quick hug. “Just a few minutes. Okay?”

Clutching her doll, Morgan stared up with sad brown eyes. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart.” She automatically made the gesture over her chest then held up two fingers.

When she glanced at Jess there was an odd expression on his face. Then he angled his head and she followed him into the foyer, where the plain black and princess suitcases still stood, looking very out of place on the marble floor with the fancy crystal chandelier overhead.

Jess, on the other hand, looked right at home. Which he would, since this was his home. She’d always wondered what it was like, a part of her curious about the man who couldn’t even remember her name. But she remembered everything about him in far too much detail. The flesh-and-blood man was even better than the image she carried around in her head.

Other than the wedding where she’d first seen him in a traditional black tux, the other run-ins had been casual and his clothes reflected that. Formal or informal attire made no difference; he was an extraordinarily handsome man. She thought she’d prepared herself for seeing him face-to-face, but steel girders and cinder blocks wouldn’t have been enough to do the job.