CEO's Secret Baby: A Single Dad & Nanny Romance Page 3

  I came in to find them playing hide and seek. My son was nowhere in sight. Jess, however, was down on all fours looking under the couch and saying, “Come out, come out wherever you are.” I rolled my lips under and bit them, looking at the curve of her ass tipped up in the air, the words on her lips sounding so much like the temptation of the big bad wolf coaxing little red riding hood off the path. I wanted to put my mouth on her, to lick her slow and deep. A hard shiver ran through me at the thought of her, pink and trembling, naked under my lips and tongue.

  “Good evening,” I said, so formal, not betraying the riot of heat in my blood. I flexed my hands in my pockets, determined to be professional. When David popped out from behind a chair, cackling, he started begging for her to stay for dinner. I gave in and invited her.

  Soon, we were seated in the dining room, plates of David’s favorite spaghetti and meatballs before us. She took a piece of garlic bread and cut it in half for my son, handed him the fresh grated parmesan, and prompted him to try his salad.

  “If I had a dollar for every salad he’s left untouched,” I mused.

  “You have more dollars than that,” David objected. We laughed.

  At her encouragement, David tasted a carrot, taking the tiniest bite imaginable and chewing it for so long that I thought we’d all fall asleep before he got around to swallowing it. They talked about their afternoon, the trip to the park and how high he had climbed on the jungle gym.

  “She’s going to take me ice skating!” he said, “She says it’s easy. Jess will help me. She and her brothers used to ice skate all the time.”

  “I’m sure there are several rinks with reputable instructors if you want to try it.”

  “No, in the park, Daddy! The park, on the pond. That’s how Jess learned!”

  “Not this pond exactly, but one like it. I taught my friend’s kids to skate last March on the same pond. They love it, and they hardly even fell down. I’ll take good care of him.”

  “Just make sure he’s extra careful. We don’t need any broken bones.”

  “I respect that,” she said, “and I’d never do anything to put him at risk. But you’re the one who makes the call obviously. We can always try a different activity. Sledding or snowboarding…”

  “I want to skate!”

  “We know, buddy,” she said lightly. “But the grownups have to talk about it another time. Right now, tell me the best way to eat this meatball. It’s big! Do I cut it or just pick it up like an apple?”

  She made him giggle, and managed to distract him from the ice skating tantrum he’d been building toward. I nodded my thanks and tucked in to my salad. After a few minutes of listening to them talk about dinner, I chimed in.

  “So, you mentioned that you were saving money for something, some project. Would you tell us about it?”

  “Sure, it’s my restaurant. I’ve been saving for a couple of years already, and this job is certainly going to help speed up the process. I want to open a restaurant of my own with delicious, home-style food, comfort food. Brioche French toast, waffles with berries, and the kind of oatmeal with so much cinnamon and nutmeg in it that just the smell of it warms you up. And for lunch, I want to do artisanal grilled cheese—like gruyere and white cheddar on sourdough and serve half a sandwich with soups like potato soup and broccoli soup, homemade vegetable beef soup with the good chunks of potato and carrot in it. The kind of food you eat as a kid that makes you feel warm and safe, except elevated with more sophisticated flavors, better variety. I’d have black and red buffalo plaid tablecloths and a kind of rustic interior, beamed ceilings, gingham half curtains on the windows. It’ll just be the kind of place you want to have brunch or lunch with your family or friends and unplug and relax,” she lit up talking about it. Her face transformed, excited and glowing and I had to admit that I was impressed by the detail with which she’d gone into her plan. It was clear that she’d given it much thought.

  “It sounds wonderful,” I said.

  “Will there be pancakes?” David said suspiciously.

  “For you, I will serve pancakes. I make great macadamia nut pancakes with toasted coconut and—“

  “I want mine plain.”

  “Then I will have a special item on my menu called David’s Pancakes that are plain, buttermilk pancakes with margarine and maple syrup on the side. Maybe a banana and whipped cream happy face if you’re feeling wild.”

  “You would do that? Put my name on it?” he said.

  “Absolutely,” she said warmly.

  “What would you put Daddy’s name on?” he said.

  “Well, I don’t know. He gets salads or sometimes eggs and sausage at the diner. Maybe I’d just name a soup after him. What soup does he like?”

  “He likes the kind with noodles.”

  “Chicken noodle?” she said. I nodded.

  “A classic,” she said, “We could call it William’s Classic Combo—chicken soup and a grilled cheese.”

  “I’ll take that,” I said, “although if I could get just cheese and crackers with it… that’s what I liked best as a kid.”

  “Really?” she said, fascinated.

  “What? Did you think I grew up eating caviar for lunch? The housekeeper used to give me cheese and crackers after I ate my fruit and chicken. It was all healthy foods when I was a child, so cheese and crackers were the ultimate contraband.”

  “That’s awesome. I was a peanut butter and crackers girl. Like where you make the sandwich out of it with two soda crackers? That’s the best. I loved those. What about you, David?”

  “Pancakes. Or this. Or, like, pizza. I love pizza.”

  “Everyone loves pizza,” she said.

  “Will you have pizza at your diner?”

  “It’s a restaurant, not a diner,” she said, “And no. It’s going to be sandwiches and soups and quiche, pretty desserts that are made to be shared. Delicious big breakfasts. No steaks, no pizzas or burgers. You can get those from fast food.”

  “So you have a clear vision of what you want,” I said.

  “Yes. I even have drawings of what it will look like and the menu items and their descriptions. I’m still researching pricing and logistics.”

  “But Chicago is ideal for a place like that, a hint of nostalgia and plenty of good, warming food,” I said.

  “Thanks, I think so,” she said, smiling.

  “What’s it going to be called?” David asked.

  “It doesn’t have a name yet. The name can come later,” she said.

  “I would’ve thought you’d have a name all picked out and the design for the sign finished,” I said.

  “I’ve been concentrating on the food. Red lets me use the kitchen at the diner after hours when I have a catering job. I mainly do those for fun, but they help me put aside a little extra, plus I get to build a menu and cook for a crowd,” she said.

  “She’s going to teach me to make muffins this week,” David crowed.

  “Yes,” she said, “ones with raspberries and bananas. And with a little drizzle of cinnamon icing on top.”

  “Sounds—” I was going to say ‘healthy’ but thought better of it since she was clearly trying to get my son to eat fruit— “yummy. Better not eat more than one of them. They sound like they’re practically a cupcake,” I said.

  She winked at me. Right across the table, like we were in on a secret, partners in crime. My body stiffened in response to her, her enthusiasm, her low voice, the way she moved her hands when she spoke.

  It wasn’t only physical. It was her personality, the way she was with my son, and the way she had teased me. I had been attracted to other women since my ex-wife left years ago, certainly. But I had never been so moved by someone, so fascinated by any one woman. All the more reason to keep things at a professional distance. No more homey dinners together. No more blurring the lines between family and employee. I couldn’t afford to be confused, to develop feelings for someone. Not after what Natalie did to us. I would never take a risk w
ith David’s heart, with David’s sense of family and security. And I was a father, first and foremost. So my urges, my attractions, meant nothing compared to my loyalty to him, my determination to put his needs ahead of my own always.

  After dinner, as he played in his room, I asked Jess to stay on for a moment longer. “David has adjusted well to having you care here. If it’s feasible for you, I’d like to extend your time beyond the initial two weeks. I’m confident it would take the agency longer than that to secure a possible nanny who would engage David to the degree you have. He’s very comfortable with you and looks forward to seeing you. As such I think—“

  “William?” she interrupted, “It’s cool. I’d love to stay longer and work with him. Thanks.”

  “Good, good,” I said. I nodded, not wanting to so much as risk shaking her hand, “I’ll give him his bath. You’re free to go.”

  “Thanks for dinner. I’ll just go tell him good night,” she said.

  5

  Jessica

  The first month as David’s nanny flew by. It was so much fun, and he was a lovable kid. We got along great, especially after he figured out that he couldn’t really trick me into being permissive. I knew the rules—all the zillions of them—and even when I thought they were a little restrictive, I enforced them. Not so much because I thought his dad was all-knowing but because kids needed consistency to feel safe. So I kept to the routine. Tara and I took him to the indoor water park with her kids one Saturday when I wasn’t scheduled to work. William had agreed to it after insisting that David wear his swim wings despite knowing how to swim.

  “The water slides are steep and most of them empty into pools deeper than he is tall,” William said. I had agreed to it, even though it was overkill. Tara’s kids, both of whom were his age or younger, splashed around merrily under our watchful eyes without flotation devices and never so much as choked on a mouthful of water. Still, I was glad I got to take him, and that he played and slid down slides with the other kids, less serious than usual. Admittedly, the kid read all the safety rules out loud to us at least three times, but the third time I got him some nachos and told him to chill out. We dripped onto our towels as we sat at an indoor picnic table. I snapped a pic of David with the other two kids, their tongues blue from the slushies they drank. I sent it to William on impulse. He deserved to see how much fun his son was having, and I wanted to thank him for letting us bring him along.

  We were exhausted by the time we managed to drag the kids away from the splash pad where they liked to shoot each other with plastic water cannons. I took David home in the chauffeured car that waited for us. When we arrived, I scooped up the sleeping boy and carried him to the door. William met me at the door and lifted his son from my arms.

  “The picture was great. He obviously had a wonderful time. Thank you for taking him. I will of course compensate you as for a regular workday—”

  “Don’t you dare! I love him! I just wanted to include him when we took Tara’s kids.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re great with him. I just don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

  “You aren’t,” I assured him, “It was a great day. I bet he sleeps well tonight.”

  “Thank you,” William said, and went back inside. Part of me, a very small part, wished he had hesitated and asked me in. Instead, I rode back to my apartment and despite my tiredness after the long day, I struggled to sleep because I thought of William. My crush had gotten worse not better. The longer I knew him, the more attractive he was to me. It was dangerous, but in the best way.

  I always looked forward to seeing him. He was polite to me but very formal, as if he were uncomfortable. Maybe he was just accustomed to the old nanny. I knew he had taken David to visit her on several occasions. Whenever David talked about all the things he and his dad did on the weekends—watching all the Avengers movies from a fort they built out of the furniture or going to the children’s museum and trying all the hands on science exhibits—I was a tiny bit jealous. It always sounded so fun and so—out of character for the uptight rich guy who hired me. The other side of him was visible when he was with David—the love and the total presence in the moment that they shared. It was stunning to watch, and impossible not to be turned on by it.

  One day after David got home, I set him up with a plastic, kid-safe knife and cutting board chopping carrots while I did the onions. I showed him how to add the bay leaf, measure the salt and pepper. By the time William got home, we had old-fashioned chicken noodle soup ready. David had made instant vanilla pudding for dessert, and I made a killer grilled cheese to go with it. David got a kick out of pulling his sandwich apart and watching the thick strings of melted cheese stretch out. William kept taking bites of soup and looking at me curiously.

  “Didn’t David do an incredible job cutting up the carrots?” I prompted.

  “Yes. You both did. This is the best soup, the best grilled cheese I think I’ve ever had. That restaurant of yours—it will be a sensation, Jessica. What is in this?”

  “Well, I like to start with a cheddar and jack, then I put some Fontina in for that nutty, toasty flavor. And I sprinkle it with garlic salt on the bread once it’s grilled because my dad used to do that, and it was like magic,” I said fondly.

  “It’s magic,” William confirmed. “Thank you for making this for us. It was a nice surprise.”

  Every day after school, I helped David practice his printing, his letter sounds, and his numbers. We did addition problems by making up silly dinosaur stories and using Cheerios for counters. Pretty soon he could add up numbers up to twelve, and since the Cheerios were healthy, no one complained about how many he munched while we practiced. I took him to the art program at the library on Wednesday afternoon sometimes and he painted big pictures that were supposed to be dragons and dinosaurs but usually looked like a green hot dog. William always hung them up in the house when we brought them home. He even told me once or twice that I was wonderful with David.

  Not the time I took him roller skating and the kid fell about six hundred times though. Fortunately after we left urgent care with a bandage, we knew it was only a sprained wrist. David wanted to be a skater—roller, ice, hoverboard, anything. But the balance was not there yet. We’d have to practice with regular shoes on at home, according to William who did not want the child falling down, getting hurt, or taking any kind of risk that normal kids took every day. He didn’t tell me not to take him skating again, but it was pretty clear that he disapproved. I told David we’d have better luck next time, and that was when William came out with the practice-at-home nonsense. I wasn’t going to push it right away, especially with the kid in a bandage, but the time would come when I had to help this kid try and fail in order to get better at things.

  One time, I stayed late to play Candy Land with them. David was super competitive, and I did what I could to help him win. When William got up to get a drink of water, I moved his blue gingerbread person back nine spaces to a same-colored square and bumped David’s up three. I left mine the same and hoped he wouldn’t notice. David won by a landslide and ran around dancing and crowing that he was the king. William said I must be his son’s lucky charm, but when he raised his eyebrows I figured he knew I’d cheated. I laughed and to my surprise, he laughed with me. The grin he gave me was playful, almost flirty. I had been walking on air after that.

  A week later, I was pacing the floor, checking David’s forehead every few minutes, my palm sweeping back his brown hair to feel his temperature. He was curled up on the couch staring at cartoons, a lethargic, flat version of the talkative, lively kid I knew. I’d given him a fever reducer over an hour ago, but his temp was only down half a degree, sitting stubbornly at 101.5. I called William on his personal cell.

  “Hello?” he said, sounding caught off-guard.

  “David has a fever,” I said. “The housekeeper showed me where the Tylenol was, and I gave him some, but it hasn’t worked very well. I’m going to put
him in a bath to try and cool him off, but I knew you’d want to know he was sick.”

  “Yes, thank you. How’s he feeling?”

  “It started when he said his legs hurt, and then he was cranky and now he’s just on the couch.”

  “He gets like that when he’s sick. At the two-hour mark, give him some ibuprofen. Rotating that with Tylenol every two hours till the fever breaks. It usually does the trick for him. But I’ll be home early. As soon as I can get there.”

  “No, we’re okay. You don’t have to—“

  “My son is sick. I want to be with him, Jessica,” he said, and it sounded very final. I got off the phone and ran a bath, a little cooler than normal. I also got him some fruit punch out of the fridge. He was supposed to drink juice or water, but I needed him hydrated, so a treat was in order.

  “Come on, David, it’s bath time.”

  “No.”

  “Sure is, buddy. It’ll help bring the fever down.”

  He grunted, grouchy and uncooperative.

  “Dude, come on. Let’s make it fun. We could be a train, or you can chase me like you’re a shark—”

  “No,” he said, “I don’t wanna.”

  “All right then. I’m gonna carry you,” I warned.

  I bent down and scooped him up. I thought he’d kick and fuss, but he just hung there, drooping like dead weight in my arms. I stood him up in the bathroom and got him ready for his bath. He hardly even helped me get his clothes off. He was shivering and started to cry as I set him in the bath. I turned the lights down on the dimmer because he said they were too bright. Then I gave him his dinosaur bath toys, which he ignored. He sat despondently in the tub of water, giving the occasional sob. I was sitting on the closed toilet lid reading him a book when William came in.