Page 4 of The Nanny and the Hothead
You see, while she wasn’t more than an acquaintance of Madelyn Malone, she knew plenty about the lady. The woman was a regular at the Crystal Cricket Bistro. Before the whole vegetable incident, she’d waited on the chic senior citizen a time or two. Stunning with tumbling locks of dark hair with a lone silver streak highlighting the woman’s high cheekbones, the lady oozed class and sophistication. Her vibe was part worldly witch, part Gucci-clad fairy godmother. She ran an exclusive specialty nanny service that matched nannies with wealthy, prominent single men.
And how did she know so much about the woman?
Her friend Penny had been recruited a few months ago to nanny for the tech guru, Rowen Gale, who was raising his six-year-old niece, a spunky little thing named Phoebe.
And how’s the nanny gig going for good old Penny?
Pretty freaking amazing! She’s engaged to the guy and has thatI-live-on-orgasmsglow twenty-four seven. And not the kind of glow that comes from a battery-operated device. Nope, Penny’s getting the real deal. Between her hot nerd fiancé and killing it in her writing career, Penny was living the dream.
Of course, she was happy for her bestie. She loved Penny like a sister. The Penny, Rowen, Phoebe trio was about as cute as you can get. The guy owned a wildly successful video gaming company, and now they work together—Rowen does the techie stuff while Penny crafts the narratives for his games. It’s a dream come true for her writer friend. But becoming a nanny wasn’t in the cards for Charlotte Ames—no matter how well it paid. And it paid well, like really well, which honestly, might not be such a bad thing. Her bank account wouldn’t turn away two thousand dollars a week and free room and board to boot.
But she had one problem. And that problem was time.
Here’s how the nanny match worked. The first sixty days were a trial period. Both parties, the nanny and the employer, committed to staying together through this transition. But on that sixtieth day, the contract could be broken by either the employee or the employer.
No questions asked.
After the first Madelyn Malone text rolled in, she messaged Penny and asked if she knew what was going on. But Penny was clueless.
And now, the nanny match maven seemed to have moved on to her.
Charlotte twisted a lock of auburn hair between her fingers and peered across the street at Professor Tran’s gallery. Here’s where the time part comes in. If she played her cards right, with her teacher’s help, in sixty days, she could be in London as part of an intensive photography workshop at the Royal College of Art—the top institution for art and design in the entire world. Here, she could hone her craft with the best of the best. The intensive lasted two weeks. But it could be the two weeks that changed her life. Mind you, they didn’t accept just anyone. She had to submit a photograph, and she had to pray she’d qualify for a scholarship. That whole five bucks in her bank account wasn’t enough to cover the Uber to the airport.
And that’s why today was so important.
She checked the time. She had fourteen minutes until her appointment with Professor Tran. Fourteen minutes until she could ask her teacher which image she should submit. Her mouth grew dry as a chill danced down her spine.
Breathe.
She smoothed her skirt, then adjusted her camera bag as she set her sights on the gallery.
It wouldn’t hurt to arrive a few minutes early, would it?
The thought had barely crossed her mind before a woman waving her cell phone in the air jogged toward her.
“Excuse me? Would you mind taking a picture of me and my boyfriend?” she asked through a cascade of bouncing blond curls.
Charlotte checked the time. Thirteen minutes. Plenty of time to snap a shot. She nodded, accepting the phone. “What would you like in the background?” she asked as a man—presumably the boyfriend—joined them. The guy pulled at his collar, then adjusted his sport coat.
Maybe he was camera shy.
“Anywhere on this block will do,” the woman answered, all smiles.
Charlotte gestured for the couple to move close together, but the guy looked ready to lose his lunch. Luckily, she knew what to do.
“Instead of posing, how about, I ask you a few questions? It’ll make the shot look more natural. Let’s start with the basics. What are your names?” she began, snapping a picture as the woman leaned into the man.
“I’m Larissa, and this is my boyfriend of exactly one year, Royce.”
“One year—that’s a big anniversary. What’s special about this place?” Charlotte asked, doing her bestnotto think about the fact that she hadn’t come close to making a relationship last a month, let alone a year.
Larissa gazed up at Royce with puppy-dog eyes. “This is where Royce told me he loved me for the first time.”
“Oh, wow!” Charlotte breathed, her envious heart tightening in her chest.
What must that be like?
From Larissa’s expression, it looked pretty freaking amazing.
