Page 168 of The Nanny and the Hothead
Welp! That didn’t explain anything about this outrageous encounter.
Charlotte stared at the woman. “What are you doing here?”
Madelyn frowned. “We established what I’m doing here. You saw the piece of paper with your name on it. I’m picking you up. I’m your ride.”
She got the whole name-on-a-sheet-of-paper thing. But this was insane!
“But why are you picking me up?”
Madelyn peered around the airport. “Because I’m here.”
Charlotte was ready to borrow a little hotheadedness from Mitch. This exchange with the nanny match expert bordered on infuriating.
“You live here?” Charlotte shot back, trying to make heads or tails of why Madelyn Malone had left Denver to come to London to pick her up.
“I have homes all over the world,” the woman replied.
Charlotte pressed her fingertips to her temples. Was she losing her mind or hallucinating? Maybe it was that second glass of champagne she’d had on the plane, or perhaps she shouldn’t have overindulged in the cheese plate they’d presented her with when she’d boarded the plane. But that was hours ago. And holy cheese bonanza! It was the definition of delicious. But whatever it was, something was messing with her brain. She narrowed her gaze. “Madelyn, you’re here, now, in London, picking me up from the airport.”
There! Direct and to the point.
Madelyn sucked in a tight breath, then cringed. “You’re looking a bit frazzled, Charlotte. You need to eat something. I fear you’re suffering from jet lag. Let’s get dinner. I know the perfect place,” the woman offered casually as if Heathrow Airport in London was a totally normal place for the two of them to meet up. For Pete’s sake, they were on a different continent!
Charlotte scanned the area.
Who would she meet next, the Easter Bunny?
“Are you expecting someone?” Madelyn asked with that coy twist to her lips.
“No, I just wasn’t expecting you,” she answered, hating how rude that must sound, but it was the truth.
“Well, isn’t this convenient,” the woman cooed. “I have a car waiting, and I know the perfect place to eat after a long flight.” Madelyn waved over a tall man clad in a dark suit. “Todd, we’d be most appreciative if you could take Charlotte’s bag and prepare the car. We’ll be dining at the location I mentioned to you earlier.”
“Yes, ma’am. Welcome to London, Miss Charlotte,” the driver said with a tip of his hat in a rolling British accent.
Madelyn took her arm. “London is one of my favorite cities,” she said, guiding her through the sea of people to the waiting BMW like it was totally normal for them to be yucking it up in the UK.
Charlotte examined the luxury car. “This isn’t some elaborate abduction, is it?”
Madelyn laughed and shook her head. “You and that strange propensity to think you’ve been kidnapped. I’m simply taking you to dinner, and I’m sure you’ll agree that we have business to discuss.”
Here it comes!
Charlotte nodded, her nerves beginning to get the best of her, as she settled herself into the back seat next to the nanny match maven. “You know why I’m here?” she asked as Todd maneuvered the car into the London traffic.
“Yes, Penny tells me you were awarded a prestigious scholarship to attend an intensive photography workshop at the Royal College of Art. That’s quite an achievement, dear,” Madelyn answered, watching her closely.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her mind working overtime.
What else had Penny divulged?
“When did you see Penny?” she asked, crossing then uncrossing her legs and failing at exuding calm.
“I had lunch with your friends. Let’s see,” the woman pondered. “I always get so thrown off by the time change. It was yesterday. You had already left for the airport. Otherwise, I would have invited you along. I arrived in London before you, because of course, I flew on a private plane.”
Multiple houses and private planes—no one could say Madelyn Malone didn’t know how to live.
But then Charlotte stilled and replayed the woman’s response. She’d said friends—plural. And God only knows what Harper said! And Libby, in her chi-less state, could have blurted out a whole host of lunacy.
