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

“Is that how you felt?”

The question came out before he could stop it. His only excuse was that part of his mind was focused on her mouth, and its high sexiness factor. If she wasn’t his son’s nanny, he’d kiss her, take those unusually tempting lips out for a spin and see if they tasted as good as they looked. But she was the nanny and it wouldn’t be smart. He couldn’t think about himself when Brady needed her. And his son’s needs came first.

He shook his head. “Forgive me for prying. That’s really none of my business.”

“It’s all right.” She sighed. “Probably wouldn’t be normal for me not to have abandonment issues. Not letting that define your life is the challenge. My goal is to help the kids understand that message.”

“You’re a good person.”

She shrugged and her gaze lowered to the hands clasped in her lap. “I’m just trying to give back.”

“The home’s gain is my loss,” he said. Standing, he rounded the desk and rested one hip on the corner, just an arm’s length from her. He wouldn’t kiss her, but he wanted to get closer. Out of the frying pan into the fire. “Traditionally Saturday is date night. Your benevolence will put a speed bump in my social life.”

“Speed bump?” She met his gaze and spirit sparkled in her eyes. “You probably beat the women back with a stick.”

“Not lately.” He laughed. “Now that I think about it, dating is tedious. Time consuming. Hectic and energy draining. Especially now when I need all the energy I have for Brady.”

Again she gave him the approving smile. “Then you should think about settling down. Getting married. Did you know studies have shown that married men live longer?”

“I hadn’t heard that.”

“Oh, I know marriage takes energy.” The earnest expression on her face was cute and incredibly appealing. “But a committed relationship is different. And the rewards make it worth the effort.”

Not in his opinion. “And how do you know this? Have you been married?”

“Me?” She touched a hand to her chest. “No. But I’ve observed a lot of happy, contented couples who are united in their dedication to raising a family and making a life together.”

“You get around.”

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Occupational hazard.”

A subtle reminder that her time with him was finite. She didn’t know it yet, but she wouldn’t have to look for another job.

“From my perspective, marriage provides nothing but stress and discord,” he said.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” And then some, he thought. “It doesn’t work and inevitably leads to divorce and disillusionment or the demise of dreams. At the very least it causes bitterness and resentment.”

She frowned. “May I ask what your perspective is?”

“My father. He’s currently involved in financial negotiations in a divorce from wife number four and engaged to number five. I’ve had a front-row seat to discord and dying dreams.”

The look she gave him was filled with pity. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His tone was more sharp than he’d intended. “It was and continues to be a good education. It’s cost Dad a lot of money, a good portion of which goes to the army of accountants he employs to keep up with alimony payments.”

“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I can see where that would give you pause. I might have abandonment issues, but at least I had stability. The nuns at Good Shepherd gave me that.”

He didn’t plan to debate the benefits and drawbacks of growing up in an orphanage versus the marriage-go-round of his own childhood. He had a thing about commitment; she had abandonment issues. That was information he would tuck away for another time.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Now that I’m a father, I can see where a case could be made for constancy. I’d be lying if I said it—marriage—hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said.

He held up his hands. “Whoa. Finding someone to marry is a nice fantasy, but it’s easier said than done.”

“Are you one of those men who manufactures flaws in every woman he meets?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

“And probably none of my business. But you started it.” She tilted her head to the side and her silky ponytail brushed the shoulder of her sweater making his fingers itch to do the same. “I just meant that some men find the smallest excuses to walk away from a relationship, not really trying to make it work.”

“And you know this from firsthand experience?” Since he’d started the prying, what was the harm in a little more?

“Magazines. Articles in women’s periodicals.”

None of that was helpful information. “You don’t date?”

“I have two problems with dating.”

“Only two?” he asked.

She laughed. “Number one is lack of time. Between my job and working at the home, there’s very little left over.”

“What’s number two?”

“Lack of men.”

“Excuse me?”

“Think about it. My day revolves around infants. I go from job to job. It’s pretty intense.” She gave him a wry look. “And energy consuming. Besides, where am I going to meet someone?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he was chopped liver, but he figured that wasn’t a place he was prepared to go for too many reasons to list. But right at the top was the fact that he was way too pleased she didn’t meet men.

And suddenly the temptation to touch her was too much to resist when he was this close. And he didn’t trust himself to only touch her. Straightening, he moved back around to the other side of his desk, putting distance between them.

“I’m the last person who should give you advice,” he said.

“Actually, I think Sister Margaret and Sister Mary are the last ones to give advice on the dos and don’ts of dating.”

He couldn’t stop the grin. Wicked, witty sarcasm. It was incredibly intriguing. “Okay. Point taken.”

She looked thoughtful. “For what it’s worth, the most advantageous environment for Brady is one with positive male and female role models. That said, when you meet the right woman, you should snap her up.”

“That’s a challenge to do without Saturday nights. And make no mistake, it will take a lot of dating to get it right.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be around to watch.”

“I should think your curiosity would be powerful motivation to stay,” he said.

“There’s only five weeks left on my contract and I can’t extend it.” Genuine regret darkened her eyes.

And she wasn’t the only one. Unlike the other nannies he’d had, he actually liked Maggie. She was direct and didn’t play games. On top of that she was incredibly good with his son. He couldn’t imagine her being more loving, tender and nurturing if she’d actually given birth to the boy. In the nanny department, this time was indeed the charm. Did she really think he would let her get away without a fight?

Not so fast, Margaret Mary Shepherd. She hadn’t seen his very best stuff yet.

“Good job on the bedtime prayers, Lyssa.” Maggie pulled the sheet and blanket up, then leaned over and kissed the six-year-old’s cheek.

In this wing of the home, the little girl was the youngest and the last of her ten charges to be tucked in. There were fifty children, from birth to eighteen, being cared for here and Maggie relieved one of the paid employees who took a much-needed day off. Her commitment to Good Shepherd Home for Children was unwavering because without this place, she wasn’t sure what would have become of her. The nuns continued to protect and care for kids who desperately needed them and Maggie considered it a sacred honor to assist in any way she could.