Page 77 of The Nanny and the Hothead
She tried to suppress the dizzying current racing through her body. But it was no use. A surge of energy fluttered in her belly—or was thatbelowher belly. She inhaled a steadying breath as her core tightened and her nipples hardened into tight peaks.
“How many times are you going to look out my window, Charlotte?”
She gasped and crossed her arms as Oscar stood in the center of his room, eyeing her closely.
“What do you mean? I’m getting your room ready for bed. I was about to close the curtains,” she lied. It was a white lie—no harm done. But that didn’t stop her cheeks from heating up.
Stupid redhead tomato reaction!
“Don’t close them yet,” Oscar said, bounding over in his pajamas. “Is my dad still loading up Louise?”
She looked away, willing her boobs to cooperate. “I wouldn’t know. I was admiring the trees,” she answered, tightening her hold on her arms.
“Yep, he’s still out there,” Oscar said. She went to his side as Mitch glanced up at the window.
Oscar waved to the man as she stared down at him. He waved back at his son, then turned his attention to her, andhello, Tingle City!She raised her hand and pressed her fingertips to the glass as he stared up at her. It was too dark, and he was too far away for her to read him, but she could sense he was uneasy. The man moved with measured precision. That had to be a chef thing. But there was an undercurrent of apprehension coming off the guy in waves.
She was probably giving off the same energy.
This time last week, he was most likely at the Crystal Cricket, hotheading away, yelling at sous chefs or berating a line cook, while she was scouring the online want ads for another part-time job between skimming through her photographs, trying to decide which to submit for the Royal College of Art application.
Now, look at them! They were living under the same roof, and they’d slept together!
No, she couldn’t think of it like that—even though her friends had made it crystal clear that she’d indeed screwed Mitch’s brains out.
No, she couldn’t think of it like that, either!
She and Mitch had fallen prey to a momentary lapse in judgment inside of a tent.
Yep, that’s what it was.
“Charlotte?” Oscar called.
She peered over her shoulder and found the boy across the room, perched on the bottom bunk.
“How did you get over there? I didn’t even hear your footsteps,” she replied, abandoning her post at the window to sit on the edge of Oscar’s bed.
He gave her a toothy grin. “It was easy. You don’t notice anything when you’re looking at my dad.”
What?
“That’s not true,” she answered, gesturing for him to move aside as she pulled down the covers. She had to get ahold of herself! If a six-year-old little boy got that vibe from her, she must be doing an atrocious job at keeping her treacherous libido at bay.
“My dad’s the same way,” Oscar answered, sliding in beneath the sheets. “When he looks at you, he keeps looking and looking and looking.” He relaxed into his pillow. “Maybe it’s your freckles.”
She reared back. “My freckles?”
Oscar reached out and touched her cheek. “Yeah, the ones right here. My dad must be looking at you so hard because he’s trying to count them.”
“It could be that,” she agreed, smoothing his chestnut-colored hair as the thought of Mitch obsessing over her sprinkling of freckles sent her pulse racing. She did her best to ignore the sensation and stared down at the boy. He had Mitch’s eyes, Mitch’s smile—when the man smiled—and the same stubborn set of his jaw. It was no wonder these two could butt heads. But there was a sweetness there beneath their furrowed brows. She was certain of that.
“Or maybe,” Oscar mused, cutting into her thoughts. “You had a big booger hanging out of your nose, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking.”
“A booger!” she exclaimed, covering her face with her hand. “Do I have a booger in my nose now?” she asked, cautiously lowering her hand a few inches.
Oscar was in a great position to let her know. Lying on the bed, he had a front-row view of her nostrils. The boy propped onto an elbow, narrowed his gaze, then inspected her face, paying particular attention to her nose. “Nope, I don’t see any boogers. But this one time at my old school, the music teacher had a big booger in her nose. It shook every time she breathed like this,” Oscar added, wiggling as if he were having a fit beneath the covers.
She couldn’t help but chuckle, then smoothed the blanket over Oscar’s legs. “Speaking of schools, you’ve got a big day tomorrow. You get to see your new school and meet new friends.”
