Donna Clayton - Nanny and the Beast

Karen tugged at her hair again, the pen curled between her fingers nearly poking her chin. “They’re here.” Trepidation rippled through her whisper. “Good luck,” she added, before disappearing from the doorway.

Sophia stood, smoothed her hand over the skirt of her dark suit and then paused long enough to take one more deep breath, the kind she’d learned in her yoga class. Her instructor swore yoga could help in every aspect of her life and right now she was willing to take all the help she could get.

Michael Taylor didn’t just walk in to her office, he stormed in, closing the door firmly behind him. Anger honed his handsome features and seemed out of sync with the awkward gentleness with which he cradled his baby girl.

His most striking feature was his gaze. Those deep brown eyes flashed with extreme intensity—irritation, yes, but something else, too, some powerful force emanating from within. He had the kind of good looks and trim, athletic body that made a sensible woman think thoughts she shouldn’t, and consider doing things she normally wouldn’t. Sophia wouldn’t have been the least surprised to learn that females who passed him on the street routinely broke out into appreciative wolf whistles.

“Good morning, Mr. Taylor,” Sophia greeted, infusing a bright friendliness into her voice while completely ignoring the palpable ire radiating off the man.

“There’s not much good about it, I’m afraid.” Annoyance sharpened every word.

Oh, yeah, women might whistle for his attention, but all they’d get for their trouble was a rumbling growl.

“I fired Lily this morning,” he told her.

Sophia wanted to swear, but held her tongue. He was a client and she had to do her best to please him. Her mind raced. Did she even have anyone else willing to work for the man?

“We need to fix the problem I’ve been having with the nannies you’re sending me, Ms. Stanton, and we need to fix it now.”

A sigh of frustration gathered in Sophia’s chest, but she didn’t allow it to escape with any kind of real force. “Of course we do. And we will, I assure you.” Then she asked, “What did Lily do?”

“It’s what she didn’t do. She didn’t follow the rules. It’s not as if my needs are difficult to meet. But I do insist that any nanny working for me will follow the damn rules.”

The Damn Rules was an apt description, Sophia thought. Apparently, there were literally pages of them, and they covered every conceivable notion when it came to his daughter’s care. There was even a dress code for the nannies. It wasn’t enough that the young women she’d sent him were highly trained in childcare. Michael Taylor wanted them to look and dress and act a certain way. To better focus on the childcare, is what she’d heard. Demanding such a thing was his prerogative, she guessed. However, no woman wanted to be told she couldn’t wear nail polish or eye shadow or dangly earrings, or that her skirt had to hang below her knees, or that her hair had to be pulled back in a bun. A bun! Buns went out with pixie bobs, for goodness sake. What was he running? A Catholic grade school? It was ridiculous.

“First off,” he continued, “I take exception to the fact that the nannies you’re sending me are barely out of their teens. How can girls—” the emphasis he placed on the word made Sophia want to cringe “—with so little life experience make sound, common-sense judgments in day-to-day circumstances, let alone emergency situations? I’m supposed to trust them with my daughter?”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Taylor.” Although she understood his fears—he was a new father—she felt she had to stand up for her employees. “Both of them—” Lily flashed into Sophia’s mind, and she instantly corrected herself. “All three of the nannies you’ve fired this month have been thoroughly trained. They have earned a childcare diploma from an accredited nanny school as well as a medical safety certificate. That’s the only way they qualify to register at The Nanny Place. I complete the background checks myself. Your daughter has been in capable hands—”

“I manage people for a living,” he interrupted. “I have seen, firsthand, that training isn’t always enough. A healthy dose of life experience goes a long way in helping people make sensible decisions when they’re faced with even the most mundane choices. I’ll take a forty-year-old with firm common sense over a green Gen-Xer any day of the week. The girls you’ve sent me need just that—a healthy dose of life experience. I don’t want them acquiring it at the sake of Hailey’s well-being.”

“But—”

“No,” he interrupted. “No buts. I want you to send me someone older. Someone wiser. Lily has worked for me for three days. She knows the daily schedule we keep. Yet she stepped into the shower just five minutes before I was supposed to leave for work. I want you to send me someone who can follow a simple schedule.”

Sophia silently groaned. Lily was going to get an earful from her.

“I want someone with professionalism,” he continued, “and experience. Someone who’s lived long enough to have gained some practical knowledge of what it takes to care for an infant. A motherly type. Better yet, a grandmotherly type.”

“Sounds like you want a Mrs. Doubtfire.” The joking sarcasm rolled off her tongue before she’d had a chance to stop it.

He went dead silent for a moment, staring at her. Then the harsh angles of his face softened and he chuckled. He actually laughed. The sexy, delicious rumble was completely unexpected. Some sort of strange electricity shot through her body, scrambling her thoughts. This was a side of The Beast she’d never experienced. She blinked a couple of times in quick succession, and then gathered her wits as quickly as she could. Fostering the lighthearted moment seemed a good idea.

“Um, Mr. Taylor, you do know that, although she was great with children, she was a middle-aged man in drag? A fictional character created by some Hollywood screenwriter.”

“Of course, I do.”

His amusement was gone as quickly as it had come. But the humming current he’d cause to flutter through her lingered with irritating tenacity.

“I think I’ve made my needs quite clear,” he told her. “If you’re unable to provide what I’m asking, then that can only mean that your business motto is a sham. I don’t mind telling you that I’m not happy, and I seriously think we ought to consider parting ways. I’ll have to find a nanny on my own.”

“Hold on just a second,” Sophia said. Her mind raced. “Backing out of our contract is a little extreme, isn’t it?”

She’d read that a satisfied customer might express his or her opinion about a company to approximately fifty friends, relatives and casual acquaintances, whereas a disgruntled one could be expected to complain to many times that.

“I don’t think so. You’ve had three chances to send a nanny that would meet my approval. You’ve failed three times.”

He sure didn’t have a problem speaking his mind, now, did he?

She hadn’t faced this kind of fiasco since opening the doors of The Nanny Place. No one had ever called her a failure before. To the contrary, Delaware Today magazine had awarded her business the title of “Best childcare in the city of Wilmington” for the last two years running.

“What you don’t seem to understand,” Sophia stressed, putting every effort into coming up with a swift recovery, “is that when women reach that ‘older, wiser’ stage you’ve described, they’re either ready to settle down and have children of their own—”

She shook her head, unable to believe the words tumbling out of her mouth. They had a jarring, sexist ring to them, but that couldn’t be helped. She needed an argument. Any argument.