Page 61 of The Nanny and the Nerd
Had he seen her put in her retainer or get a peek at her pajama bottoms covered in cartoon baby goats?
He weighed the question for a moment—not exactly the best way to reduce the creeper factor.
“Rowen?” she pressed.
“There are cameras scattered over the property. Sixteen at last count,” he replied robotically.
Sixteen!
Her heart stopped. Okay, it didn’t exactly stop-stop. She was still standing. But in the space of a breath, they totally blew past strangely sweet intoyou’ll-be-hearing-from-my-lawyer-regarding-your-little-voyeur-problemterritory.
“I only check the camera at the gate,” he added as a blush bloomed on the apples of his stubbly cheeks.
She leaned in. “Are there any cameras in my room?” She should be outraged, but something about the thought of this man watching her—even in barnyard flannel PJs—sent a thrum of excitement through her body.
The hint of mischief glinted in his eyes. Could he read her mind? Did he know she was having an internal humiliation freak-out? She bit her lip—a nervous habit, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
“No, there aren’t any in your room.”
She released the tight breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Good, that’s great,” she prattled. What was happening to her? Why would she want this man to watch her? Then again, there was something so seductive about learning that this man had kept tabs on her.
Rowen checked his watch just as she remembered that she had to leave.
“I need to pick up Phoebe. I don’t want to be late,” she said, scooping up her tote.
“It’s a spelling test day, right?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.
She looped the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “It is.”
“A new test to go up on the fridge,” he said, shifting his stance. Was he nervous, too?
“I hope so. She’s worked hard. I know she’ll be excited to share it with you,” she answered, and for a beat, they’d fallen back into that chasm where everything around them faded away. Just like the moment before he kissed her, the air around them became electrified.
He glanced at the storyboard and took a step back, pulling the plug on the charged moment. “I have to work tonight.”
That wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped to hear him say, but she mustered a weak grin. “I understand. I can see how much you’ve got on your plate,” she replied, glancing at the team of people buzzing around the office. Keyboards clacked as blasts of sound peppered the air.
He reverently touched one of her notes. “That work involves you now.”
That stupid heart of hers skipped a beat. “It does?” she breathed.
“We could work on the AI-77 narrative tonight at home after Phoebe goes to bed,” he offered.
“Oh!” she squeaked.
“Unless you have something else you do at night…” he trailed off as they reentered Awkward City, USA.
“I do myself at night,” she replied, cementing her permanent residency in the town of Totally Freaking Awkward. She shook her head. God help her! She could not have this man thinking that the minute she’d put Phoebe down, she popped in a dirty movie and shoved her hand down her pants—which, full disclosure, she’d done, once or twice or every night. Not the dirty movie part, but the whole touch-yourself-while-imagining-your-boss scenario! She released a slow breath. “I don’t have any plans tonight,” she said, hoping her ability to form a somewhat cohesive response would cancel out her quasi-sex addiction Freudian slip.
He didn’t immediately reply, and she searched his face.
“I’ve missed Phoebe this week,” he confessed, his voice softening.
“She’s missed you, too.”
“I never thought that I could,” he began, then stopped abruptly and looked away. “I’ll see you at home in a few hours,” he finished.
She tried to read him, but he’d gone into robot mode. “I’ll see you at home,” she echoed, then headed for the stairs, her heart hammering as her head tried to gain control.
