Rebecca Winters: Out of Hours...Enticing the Nanny: The Nanny and the CEO / Nanny to the Billionaire's Son / Not Just the Nanny

“Of course. She said your in-laws have been helping out. There’s nothing like family coming to the rescue in a crisis. The baby will probably have a hard time with me at first, always looking for you or his grandparents. Were you thinking of giving me a trial run? I’ll do whatever. And please don’t worry. If you decide to look for someone else, I have a backup plan.”

He blinked in surprise. “I thought you needed a job.”

“I do, but if all else fails, I’ll fly home and my father will let me work for him this summer. It isn’t what I want to do,” she added, sounding far away, “but as I told you, there’s nothing like family in an emergency. Dad’s a sweetheart.”

What had Leah said? I’ll wager she’s not like anyone you ever met .

“Where is home?”

“Lincoln, Nebraska.”

So Nick was right. “What does your father do for a living?”

“He owns a lumberyard. I’ve helped in the office before.”

“You’re a long way from home. I presume college brought you to the East Coast.”

“That’s right. I’m a business major.”

Nick’s black brows furrowed. “Have you ever been a nanny?”

“No,” she said forthrightly, “but I come from a large family and have done my share of tending children.”

“Your mother worked, too?”

A gentle laugh escaped. “Oh, she worked—but not outside the home. Being the mother of six children is like running a major corporation. She’s been on call 24/7 since I was born.” Her eyes wandered to Jamie. “There’s nothing sweeter than a new baby. All they really need is lots of love between eating and sleeping.”

Suddenly the door opened. Paul stood there, reminding Nick they’d arrived. He’d been so engrossed in the conversation he hadn’t noticed the limo had stopped. Unless he could come up with a compelling reason not to hire her right now, taking her upstairs would be as good as a fait accompli.

While he hesitated, a piercing siren filled the air, the kind that sent an alarm through your body. It was so loud it woke Jamie, who came awake startled and crying. Before Nick could turn to get the baby’s straps undone, Ms. Chamberlain had already accomplished it and plucked him out of the car seat.

In an instant she had him cuddled against her shoulder. She’d moved too fast for it to be anything more than her natural instinct to comfort. “Did that mean old siren scare you?” Her hand shaped the back of his head. “It scared me, too, but it’s all right.” She rocked him, giving him kisses until his frightened cries turned into whimpers.

“Sorry,” she said, flicking her gaze to Nick. “I didn’t mean to grab him, but that siren made me jump and it was easier for me to dive for him than you. His heart is pounding like a jackhammer.” She started to hand the baby to Nick, but he shook his head.

“He seems perfectly happy where he is for the moment.”

With those words it appeared he’d sealed his own fate. Still bemused by what had happened, he turned to an oddly silent Paul who’d already pulled the diaper bag and her suitcase out of the limo.

The baby was gorgeous. He had the overall look and coloring of his dark, striking father, but it was apparent his mother had been a beauty in her own right. No wonder Mr. Wainwright seemed to brood even as he spoke to Reese. She hadn’t the slightest idea how long he and his wife had been married. What mattered was that she’d only been dead ten weeks.

Reese had undergone her own crushing pain when Jeremy had broken their engagement, but at least they hadn’t been married or had a child. She didn’t even want to think about the white-hot pain Jamie’s father must still be in. Reese couldn’t figure out how he was coping.

There was nothing she could do to alleviate his anguish. But if given the chance, she would love his little boy and make him feel secure during the hours his father was at work. By the time fall came and the new nanny took over, his daddy would have put more of his grief behind him.

Last Christmas Reese had been in agony over her split with Jeremy, but six months had gone by and she was still alive and functioning better these days. Though it would take Mr. Wainwright longer to heal, she was living proof that you didn’t die of a broken heart. But he wouldn’t want to hear those words right now so she wouldn’t say them.

“Shall we go up?”

His deep voice broke into her reverie. She turned her head, surprised he’d already gotten out of the limo. Reese took a quick second breath because it appeared he wasn’t about to send her away yet. Feeling the baby cling to her had made the whole situation real for the first time. She discovered she wanted this job very much.

“Jamie seems to have quieted down,” she commented.

“Thanks to you.” The comment warmed her before he reached for his son. Though he was tiny compared to his father, they looked so right together in their matching colored suits. She surmised Mr. Wainwright was in his early to mid-thirties although age was hard to tell and could add years when one was grieving.

Realizing she would become morose if she kept thinking about it, she stepped out of the limo with her purse, determined to put on a bright face for Jamie. That was her job after all. She followed his father inside a prewar brick-and-limestone building. Evidently there’d been massive renovations because the interior exuded luxury. They entered the elevator and rode to the fourteenth floor.

When the doors opened, she glimpsed a penthouse the public only got to see from inside the pages of Architecture Digest . The apartment itself was a piece of modern sculpture with its tall curving walls and a sweeping loft where she glimpsed a library of books and statuary. At every turn she was surprised by a bronze étagère of Mesoamerican artifacts here or a cubist painting there.

Impressions of Old World antiques, objets d’art and moiré silk period pieces flew at her like colors through a prism. There was a grand piano and a set of gorgeous Japanese screens in one section. Everywhere she looked, her gaze fastened on some treasure. A grouping of eighteenth-century furniture faced the fireplace. She wouldn’t know where to begin describing the layout or furnishings of this Park Avenue address.

Months ago she’d seen an article with pictures in the Times of a condo something like this one that had just sold for thirty million dollars. She supposed his wealth could have come through his business endeavors.

But his breeding gave her the sense that he’d been born into the kind of family whose wealth had been one of the mainstays of Wall Street for generations. Mrs. Tribe hadn’t let on. If Reese had been in her place, she wouldn’t have, either.

“Since you’re from Nebraska and the wide-open spaces, you’ll probably find the area out here more to your liking.”

She followed him across the living room’s velvety Oriental rugs to the span of rounded arched windows reminiscent of the Italian masters. He opened some sliding doors. When she stepped out on the terrace, she felt as if she’d entered a park complete with trees, hedges, a pool,and tubs of flowering plants placed around with an artistic flare.

As she walked to the edge, she had an unimpeded view of Park Avenue down to the Helmsley building. The whole thing was incredible. “I would imagine after a hard day at the office, this is your favorite room, too.” She saw a telescope set up at one end beyond the patio furniture. When Jamie was old enough, he’d be enthralled by everything he could see through it from this angle.

“It can be pleasant if it’s not too hot. I can’t say I’ve spent that much time out here lately, but I do use the gym every morning. It’s on the upper deck of my terrace. You’ll see the stairs. You’re welcome to work out if you want.”