Page 17 of The Nanny and the Nerd
He crossed his arms. “Let’s hear it.”
She chewed her lip again, and God help him. If she kept that up, he’d need a cold shower.
She snapped her fingers. “Donkey Kong,” she exclaimed triumphantly. But the victory was short-lived. In the blink of an eye, she was back to chewing her lip. “Or is Donkey Kong a movie? Maybe I’m thinking of Godzilla?” She met his gaze as confusion marred her features. “Is there a Godzilla video game?”
She was utterly clueless! But he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying this exchange. He decided to change tack. “Do you think that gamers are nerds?” he asked, watching her closely.
She did that lip nibble business. “I mean…maybe? I don’t know many—or any,” she confessed.
He raised an eyebrow and suppressed a grin. “It seems as if you’ve succumbed to a stereotype. You’ve prejudged a group of people you don’t even know.”
She gasped, outrage written all over her face. “I would never do that!”
He sauntered around the alien, then stood behind her. Dammit, she smelled good. He couldn’t quite place the fragrance. Slightly sweet with a hint of citrus, a scent like that could scramble his brain, but he needed to keep his guard up. He leaned in. “Saying that all gamers are nerdy and spend their days in Ms. Pacman gear is like saying all blondes are airheads.”
She spun around. “That’s an awful thing to say!”
He shrugged. “You’re the one who said it!”
She pressed her hand to her chest. “I said nothing of the sort!”
“No, but you did fall prey to the gamer stereotype,” he chided.
She shifted the clusterfuck of a planner to one arm, then threw up her free hand. “Fine! Perhaps, I had a preconceived notion about people who spend their lives in front of screens. I’m more of a write-it-on-a-piece-of-paper type of gal.”
“No kidding,” he mumbled under his breath when Jerome barreled down the steps.
“Is there a problem?” he asked as the nanny’s gaze flicked toward his assistant.
He braced himself. This couldn’t be good. Jerome’s dark complexion had turned a sickish shade of green.
“Yes, I’m afraid there is,” he answered with a grimace. “The developers were playing around with the gaming engine. AI-77 crashed, and everyone is in panic mode.”
Rowen stiffened as the electric buzz of going back and forth between himself and the nanny evaporated, and a soul-crushing rush of emotions threatened to take over. He could not fail. This game could not fail. A muscle ticked in his jaw as the familiar tightness in his chest set in. He schooled his features. “I’ll head up.” But Jerome shook his head.
“No, you can’t do that,” he said, concern etched on his face.
Jesus! What else had happened?
“Why not?” he asked as agitation coursed through his body.
“Whitmore called, Rowen. You have to go in and talk to Phoebe’s teacher.”
Rowen held his breath.Do not spiral. You are in control.
“Now?” He glanced at his watch. He didn’t have time for this. He’d signed Phoebe up for some after-school activity to get another hour in at the office. But that barely scratched the surface when it came to his childcare dilemma. He needed to connect with his developers and go over the boatload of issues with AI-77. He glanced at the nanny. Shit! He shouldn’t have been such a dick to her. He desperately required this woman’s services.
“Wait a second,” she said as if she’d read his mind. “You’re Rowen Gale?” The delicate pink hue coloring her cheeks was back with a vengeance.
He didn’t have a second to answer before Jerome cut in.
“You must be Penelope Fennimore, the nanny,” he said as the shocked woman nodded.
“Yes, that’s me! You can call me Penny,” she replied, adjusting her planner under her arm as Jerome reached out to shake her hand.
“I’m Jerome Campbell, Rowen’s assistant,” the man replied, then glanced between them. “So, you two have met?”
Rowen glared at his assistant. The guy seemed to know quite a bit about this Penelope Fennimore. Then again, he had asked him to take care of the nanny search and hadn’t read any emails with nanny written in the subject line.
