Teresa Southwick - Marrying The Virgin Nanny / The Nanny And Me

And sometimes it’s nonexistent because this marriage wasn’t about love. In spite of her sound logic and self-reassurances, the thought made her sad.

Jason slipped the band on her left ring finger and it fit perfectly. His large hand dwarfed hers as she did the same, using a little effort to slide the circle of gold over his knuckle.

“With the authority vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Garrett. You may kiss your bride.”

Maggie’s eyes widened as her gaze shot to Jason’s. She was also aware that most business deals ended with a handshake, not a kiss. Her heart was pounding, but he seemed cool and in control. His hands on her arms were strong as he drew her against him. Then he lowered his lips to hers and her eyes drifted shut. The touch of his mouth was warm and soft. His hands slid down her arms and left heat in their wake. Her heart fluttered, quick and hard. Then he pulled away and she wasn’t ready for it to be over.

“That’s it then,” he said softly.

Was that it? She looked at him and the intensity in his eyes made her shiver with a sort of excitement that was as new and different as her marital state. Before she had a chance to guess at what he was feeling, Jason glanced at his watch.

“It’s getting late. We have to go.”

After congratulations and goodbyes, he took the car seat and placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her outside and to the waiting car. When they were settled inside, he gave the driver instructions to drop him at his office and take Maggie and the baby home.

“You’re going to work?” she asked.

“I’m late for a meeting,” he explained.

Of course he was. This was just another day at the office to him. What had she expected?

That was the thing. Until she’d taken each step and realized otherwise, she hadn’t been aware of having expectations. Getting married felt like a big deal to her, but to him it was simply the first business deal of the day.

She’d never expected to be sad and disappointed on her wedding day.

It was his wedding day.

“Night,” Jason said to himself, something tightening inside him.

He tossed back the remainder of the Rémy Martin in his glass as he glanced around his study, noting that everything was the same. The lie echoed through him and collided with the heat that still lingered from kissing Maggie after their vows. The sensation was a lot like what happened when cold and hot air smashed together. Turbulence. Tornado.

All day he’d tried to get her off his mind. Some of it was about the bruised look in her eyes when his driver had left him at the office and Maggie realized her wedding day would be nothing out of the ordinary.

The devil of it was that there’d been nothing pressing workwise and he could have taken her someplace special for lunch. He hadn’t because it was important to set a tone for the marriage. They were husband and wife in name only per their deal. What had seemed like a good idea at the time didn’t look as rosy from this side of the marriage license.

Like every other night since she’d been his nanny, Maggie was bathing the baby and he was working in the study. He wanted to be with them but was keeping to his protocol of establishing a pattern. It seemed important until tension and heat ground through him.

He shot to his feet, grabbed his empty glass and went to the sideboard where he kept the cognac. After pouring another shot, he drank it down, glad for the burn in his throat and the scorching all the way to his gut. For that few seconds the scalding was all he could think about. When it subsided, there was still a vision of Maggie and the innocently seductive way she’d slid her tongue over her soft lips after he’d kissed her.

The phone rang and Jason was grateful for the distraction. “Yes?” he said into the receiver.

“Mr. Garrett, it’s Peter Sexton.”

The doorman. “What is it, Peter?”

“Sir, a Mr. Hunter Garrett is here to see you.”

His father. “Send him up, Peter.”

“Right away, sir.”

The old man usually stopped by Garrett Industries corporate offices if he had something to say. This must be important. Jason had a pretty good idea what it was about.

When the bell rang, he opened the door. “Hi, Dad.”

“Jason.”

Hunter marched right in. “I need to talk to you.”

“I figured.” He shut the door. “Let’s go in my study.”

Jason led the way down the hall and held out a hand for his father to take one of the chairs in front of the desk. It occurred to him for the first time that the pretentious leather and gold buttons suited his father much better than his nanny. There was a resemblance between Hunter and himself, but he’d gotten his dark eyes and hair from the maternal DNA, not that he remembered much about the woman who’d birthed him. The few pictures he’d managed to find confirmed it.

The man who’d sired him was often called distinguished and that was fair. He was tall, and a personal trainer hammered him into fitness. Silver streaked his brown hair and his blue eyes, never brimming with warmth, were glacial at the moment.

“Would you care for a drink?” Jason asked him.

“Yes.”

He poured another and set it down in front of his father before taking a chair on the other side of the desk. “How are you, Dad? How’s Tracy?” Wife-to-be number five.

“Fine.” The older man downed the contents of his glass, then leaned forward. “I didn’t come to update you on me or my fiancée.”

“Then why did you come?”

“What’s going on, Jason?”

“Care to be more specific?”

“Don’t be coy.” For the first time Hunter’s eyes were warm. Must have a lot to do with the glare. “There was a disturbing rumor on the news about the president of Garrett Industries at the Clark County Courthouse with an unidentified woman.”

“I see.” If his thoughts hadn’t been so preoccupied with Maggie, he’d have seen this coming. Marriage licenses were public record and he didn’t have an especially low profile. Someone was bound to notice. Call him perverse, but he was going to make his father work for this. He stared down the old man without saying more.

“I put in a call to Blake Decker.”

“Oh?” What did that say about father-son communication that he called the attorney for information? “What did he say?”

“Nothing. He cited attorney-client privilege. That means he’s your lawyer. Since when, Jason?”

“Today.” Technically he’d had representation since making the call to draw up all the papers. But they’d been signed today. And he’d had his five-hundred-dollar-an-hour lecture on the potholes and pitfalls of ball-and-chain lane.

“Who’s the woman?”

“Since I didn’t see the news, I can’t be sure who you’re referring to.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “The one at the courthouse. Who is she?”

“Her name is Margaret Mary Shepherd.” Garrett, he added to himself.

“What is she to you?”

That was actually a very good question and something he’d been trying to figure out, what with the lopsided amount of time he’d been thinking about her. But he’d throw his dad a bone here. “She’s Brady’s nanny.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re fooling around with the nanny.”

“All right. I won’t tell you.”

Silver eyebrows drew together as he scowled. “Are you aware that the price of stock can rise and fall with even a hint of scandal? Hanky panky with your nanny is a very good way to get your name in the newspapers for all the wrong reasons.”

His father should know. Marital escapades were his stock in trade. “Look, Dad, I’min charge of the company now. You’re chairman of the board of directors of Garrett Industries.”