Page 67 of The Nanny and the Hothead
She didn’t look directly at Mitch, but she could feel his eyes on her. The question was, did he know she was listening? She parted her lips, but thankfully, Oscar spoke first.
“I’m Oscar Abrams Elliott! And I can tie my shoes by myself,” the boy announced brightly, taking her hand and leading her to the group.
At the sight of the child, Ines’s smirk smoothed into a smile. But the taller woman maintained an icy front while Mitch shifted his stance uncomfortably. His gaze bounced from them to the house to the women, as if he wasn’t quite sure how he ended up here. Her heart twisted in her chest. She wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand to let him know…
Know what?
That she was there for him?
That it would be okay?
That the tall lady with the briefcase deserved to have a salad hurled at her smug face?
No, she had to take a cue from the man and simply do her job.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Oscar. I’m Ines. I’ve known your father for a very long time,” the woman said, shaking the boy’s hand. “And you must be the nanny,” the woman continued with an odd glint in her eyes.
Who was this person?
The thought came and went before she felt all eyes fall on her…again. “Yes, I’m Charlotte Ames. I’m Oscar’s nanny.”
There! It was possible for her to act like a normal person!
Ines’s sly smirk returned. “I hope Mitch has given you a warm welcome. He can be a little rough around the edges.”
That was an understatement.
Charlotte cleared her throat as Mitch’s gaze bored into her and the searing intensity of it made her core clench. No, no, no! This was not the time to take a walk down sexytimes memory lane.
She exhaled a slow breath.
Stick with normal! Say something normal!
“I assure you that Mitch has given me the warmest of welcomes—very, very warm. Scorching hot, in fact,” she blathered. And OMG! She had to shut her mouth before something else insane slipped out. She pasted her lips together, but the damage was done. Even Oscar stared up at her like she had ten heads.
That muscle in Mitch’s cheek ticked. “Ines is my publicist, and Gwen is my publisher,” he said, making the gruffest of gruff introductions.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” she replied, knowing she’d gone full-on tomato redhead.
“Can I see my new room, Dad?” Oscar asked, blessedly shifting the conversation from her idiotic response.
Mitch turned to the women. “Give me a second,” he said, then turned to her and Oscar. He pressed his hand to the small of her back, guiding them toward the house. And heaven help her, his touch was no less electric now than it had been last night. But she had to hold it together, if not for herself, for Oscar. So far, he seemed upbeat. But no matter his mood now, the kid was experiencing one heck of a shift in his little life.
Mitch lowered his voice. “Can you take Oscar inside so I can finish up with Ines and Gwen? I shouldn’t be long.”
She could do this. This was her job. She was the nanny—not some woman who enjoyed being ravaged by a hothead chef.
She shook her head to clear the lust-infused cobwebs.
No more thinking about being ravaged.
“Can I get your keys?” she asked, then reflexively, she felt for the key around her neck. Mitch’s gaze drifted there. And for the space of a breath, they stilled.
“The keys, Dad?” Oscar pressed.
Mitch flicked his gaze from her neck. “You don’t need a key,” he explained. “The doors are equipped with a keypad entry. The code is one-one-two-four.”
“Eleven twenty-four? That’s my birthday!” Oscar chimed. “One-one is the same as eleven and two four is twenty-four.”
