Page 76 of The Nanny and the Nerd
The robot disappeared, and disbelief flashed in Rowen’s green eyes. “You met Chuck? The old man in the park who plays dominoes?”
“I did. I was screaming in the Lamborghini, and he came over to the car,” she answered, wishing she’d left out the whole screaming bit.
The warmth was back in his gaze. “Do I want to know why you were screaming, Penelope?”
Heat, which had a little to do with embarrassment and a lot to do with how handsome he looked when he let down his guard, flooded her system. “It’s my typical reaction to my mom. But Chuck was charming—a gentleman. He wanted to make sure I was okay. He walked me over to your office and—”
Rowen raised his hand, stopping her. “Hold on. You never told me why you stopped by Gale Gaming.”
Oh boy! She was wondering if he’d ask.
The heat simmering inside of her was now comprised of complete embarrassment. “Yeah, that…”
He shifted his stance. “Were you angry about what happened between us in the hallway?”
“The hallway,” she whispered as the memory of that glorious, toe-curling kiss came back to her.
“Yes, the hallway,” he answered as if he, too, had slipped back in time.
“No, yes, no, no, possibly!” She shook her head, working to clear the cobwebs. “Phoebe missed you, and you just disappeared. I figured we should talk. I wanted to know what was going on. But when I got there, the office was in crazy crisis mode. I saw Jerome and offered to help out. He asked me to manage the phones, then one thing led to another and…”
“And you gave my game a do-over,” he finished.
“I didn’t expect to do that,” she confessed.
He released a pained breath. “You were right to seek me out. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. And I shouldn’t have cut off contact. We could use a do-over,” he added, then gestured to the couch.
“How do we do that?” she asked, lowering herself onto the plush cushions.
He took a seat beside her. “We keep it professional.”
“Professional. Yes, I can do that,” she answered, knowing damn well that, with the thoughts she’d been thinking, the jury was still out on that claim.
He moved one of the many throw pillows and sat up. “Had I hired you to work for Gale Gaming the conventional way, I would have asked you a few questions during the interview process.”
“That makes sense. What would you like to know?” she asked, mirroring his posture as she folded her hands in her lap. She might as well try to act the part of the qualified applicant.
Rowen raised an eyebrow. “So, Ms. Fennimore, why did you want to become a writer?”
“Is this a for-real interview?” she whispered, breaking character.
A grin bloomed on his lips—a smile that made it all the way to his eyes. “Think of it as part of our do-over.”
She nodded. She wasn’t expecting this. But if it helped them create a professional working relationship and quieted the butterflies in her belly, she was for it.
“Now, tell me why you became a writer, Ms. Fennimore.”
Okay! They were doing this!
She resisted the urge to bite her lip. “I started out as more of a bookworm. I was the youngest in my family. My sisters are twins. They’re twelve years older than me, and they were good at everything. Sports, academics, you name it, they entered every competition and usually won. My earliest memories are of being dragged to their events and practices. My parents would pack a few books for me to read while they cheered on my sisters.” Rowen leaned forward—not too close, but close enough to know that he was interested. “Then one day, at a gymnastics competition,” she continued, biting back a grin, “my dad forgot the bag with the books, and needing something to keep me entertained, my mom gave me a little spiral notebook—something she had at the bottom of her purse. You know, the ones that people use for jotting quick notes.”
He nodded. “Now I know where you get it.”
“Get what?” she tossed back.
“The whole ode to paper chaos in your tote bag. It’s a family trait.”
He was teasing, but she liked it.
