Karen Rose Smith

The Nanny Clause


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draw them out one at a time. When we finish one, we draw another and start on that. How does that sound?”

      Penny asked, “Can we switch papers if we don’t like what we get?”

      “If you can find someone willing to switch with you,” Emma agreed.

      “Can we put on music?” Pippa asked.

      “I have a playlist on my phone, or if you have a radio we can find a station you all like.”

      Penny and Pippa seemed enthused. Paris didn’t. In fact, as they went about their chores, then stopped to make lunch with food in the stocked refrigerator, and eventually finished vacuuming and dusting, Paris seemed unnaturally quiet compared to her more vibrant sisters. Emma wasn’t exactly sure what to do about that. How would one get through to an eleven-year-old?

      To Emma’s surprise, Daniel’s vehicle came rolling into the driveway around four o’clock. After he came in the door, Pippa ran to him and jumped into his arms. He hugged her and then set her down, but she was already chattering. “Emma says we can go see Fiesta since we finished the chores.”

      “She did, did she?” Daniel asked.

      Emma stepped forward. Daniel’s face was blank and she couldn’t tell if he approved or not. “The girls helped me clean and dust, so I told them we could go see Fiesta. Do you want to come along?”

      “Give me five minutes to change. We can take my SUV because we’ll all fit.”

      True to his word, Daniel was back in five minutes in jeans and a red T-shirt. Emma felt that tingle inside of her when their gazes met. She couldn’t help but notice his muscles under the T-shirt, his long legs, the way his hair fell over his brow.

      Before she could notice anything else, she said, “Are we ready?”

      They all piled into Daniel’s SUV, with Emma sitting in the front and Daniel’s daughters in the back. At first silence reigned but then Penny informed her dad, “Emma says we need to dust at least once a week. If we don’t, we might sneeze and get a runny nose.”

      Daniel chuckled and glanced at Emma. “I know dusting is important, but it’s the last thing on my to-do list every week.”

      “I can certainly understand that,” Emma responded. “I’m sure you’d rather spend the time with your daughters.”

      “The thing is,” Daniel said in a lower voice, “sometimes work interferes with that, too.”

      Soon Pippa was telling Daniel about the music they’d played while they were working and how they’d danced to it. Then she amended, “Penny and me did. Paris didn’t dance. She didn’t sing along, either.”

      Yes, Emma needed to talk to Daniel about Paris—about more than her quietness.

      Once they’d parked in the shelter’s parking lot, all three girls jumped out of the car and ran inside.

      “I don’t think they really want to be here, do you?” Daniel asked with a grin.

      Emma unfastened her seat belt. Maybe the time to talk was now, when they were alone.

      “That’s the most excitement I’ve seen from Paris all day. She seems to really care about Fiesta. But there’s more going on than her being quiet and reserved. I was a bit worried at lunchtime. I made sandwiches for them all but Paris only ate the lettuce and the ham and left the bread.”

      “She believes she has to watch her diet,” Daniel said.

      That didn’t sound right to Emma. A girl Paris’s age who kept active shouldn’t need to watch what she ate, especially not if the food was good for her. However, Daniel didn’t seem concerned, so maybe she should let the issue drop.

      Daniel unfastened his seat belt and Emma couldn’t help but notice he had large hands and brown hair on his way-too-masculine forearms. She switched her thoughts away from Daniel and back to Paris. “Paris was quiet all day. As Pippa said, she didn’t join in while we were enjoying ourselves. I know maybe she’s just quiet but I also wondered if she doesn’t like another woman in the house.”

      Now Daniel turned to look at Emma. His jaw was set and his eyes held no warmth. “Nannies, housekeepers and babysitters have never bothered Paris, and basically, that’s what I’ve hired you to be. Not a dietician or a psychologist. Just be their nanny, Emma, and we’ll all get along just fine.”

      When Daniel opened his door to climb out, Emma told herself she shouldn’t feel hurt. However, she did feel put in her place. She knew exactly what she had to do about that.

      * * *

      Emma waited until that evening, when Daniel’s daughters were in bed on the second floor, to do what she had to do. Leaving her suite, she didn’t hesitate to go to Daniel’s office. The door was partially open and she rapped on it, making sure she had a good grip on her tablet in her other hand.

      “Come in,” Daniel called, with obvious surprise in his voice. “Are you a night owl, too?” he asked with a smile, apparently forgetting the annoyance he’d seemed to feel toward her that afternoon.

      “No, not a night owl. I just wanted to talk to you without the girls around.”

      He stood, his eyebrows raised in question. “Are you feeling overwhelmed already?”

      She came just inside the door and stood her ground. “No, I don’t feel overwhelmed, but I do have a question.”

      “Ask away,” he said in that deep baritone that practically made her toes curl.

      She swallowed hard and held up her tablet. “I’d like to know exactly what my nanny duties are. I wouldn’t want to overstep the boundaries again.”

      Daniel’s expression changed. At first it was stoic and then understanding seemed to dawn on his face. “Emma—” he began.

      However, she made herself clear again. “I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

      Daniel took a few steps closer to her. He was standing right in front of her. She noticed the curling chest hair at his neck in the V of his shirt, the way the shirt was tucked into his slim waist, the way his belt buckle hit a spot just below his navel.

      “I’m sorry that your feelings were hurt with what I said about Paris. I don’t want you worrying about her. That’s not your job, it’s mine.”

      “I’m probably going to be spending more time with her than you will,” Emma reminded him.

      He grimaced. “I know that, and every day I wake up planning to spend more time with them and something interferes. It’s usually work-related, and I feel guilty.”

      “As long as you do the best you can and love them, you shouldn’t feel guilty.”

      He ran his hand up and down the back of his neck. “I guess I wasn’t raised that way. My father and mother taught me a sense of responsibility. They were strict but usually fair. That’s ingrained in me.”

      “And you want to raise your daughters the same way.”

      “Not exactly the same way. I’d like to be less rigid.”

      “I don’t think you’re rigid,” Emma said.

      He laughed. “You’ve only spent a short time with me and the girls.”

      “Yes, but I noticed how caring you were about Fiesta. And today when I suggested you go along with us to the shelter, you readily agreed. There’s nothing rigid in that.”

      Daniel was looking down at her so intently that her breath caught. In fact, she had the vague impression that he was leaning toward her and she was leaning toward him. If she raised her head and he bent his—

      “No.”

      She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until Daniel asked, “No?”