The Nanny Page 16

  I finished the dishes and slipped into bed half an hour later.

  As I lay down and closed my eyes, I wondered if my life would ever be any different. I wanted it to be. I was ready for it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Scott

  “Thank you. I think that’s all we have to discuss.”

  I sighed when I heard it. Dad was at his most serious today. Sometimes I wonder if he forgets I’m his son, or if he just acts like that.

  “Okay,” I said, standing and pushing in my chair. “I’ll get going on the new portfolio we discussed. Good day.”

  Two could play at that game. Wincing at my own stiff formality, I turned and walked out.

  “Wait.”

  I stiffened in the doorway as if someone shot me in the back. Stayed where I was. “Yes?”

  “You didn’t tell me about the other matter.”

  I closed my eyes a moment. “What other matter?”

  “The shares. It’s your portfolio, Scott. Need I remind you of your duties to West Incorporated? I suppose I do.” He sighed.

  That was too much. I turned around. “Dad,” I said. “I told you. The figures are on my laptop. I can get it now if you need me to. But the ten-year history of our share values won’t change if I show you tomorrow. We can wait for the meeting to discuss it.”

  “I know that,” he said icily. “I was just trying to find out if you remembered.”

  “Of course I did,” I said, equally icily. I knew it was rude and probably childish to snap at him like that, but then he was treating me like a child.

  I was his child—not that he ever treated me as such—but I was also close to thirty years old. I was my own man and he didn’t trust me with basic things like recalling there was a stakeholder’s meeting on Monday morning. It made me furious in a way that no other thing he did, could do. Which was saying something.

  He looked levelly back. “There’s no of course about it,” he said quietly. “I don’t trust you, Scott.”

  I sighed. “I guess you don’t.”

  I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t want him getting into it. If I argue the point he’ll remind me that I am a wastrel and a playboy and can’t be trusted to turn up with a matching jacket and tie, never mind prepare a coherent report for our investors. And that wouldn’t be fair now that I was trying to reform.

  His lack of trust in me hurt me. A lot. But if I let him know that, he’d use it mercilessly. My dad was a master of manipulation. When I was in the corridor, I closed my eyes and made myself breathe slowly. My coach was one of the best around, and he had given me some tips on relaxing. The breaths were one of those.

  In. Out. In. Out.

  I looked at my watch. It was five pm. I had time to start on the new portfolio, like I’d said. Then I could head off to the gym. My body needed a workout.

  I started the portfolio and worked until six. Then I headed out.

  “Scott!”

  “Yeah?” I turned, facing Ryan, one of the lead executives and one of the few guys I liked in this part of the company.

  “Heading off?”

  “Yeah,” I said, shrugging into my jacket. It was the right fit for my shoulders, which was why I got it. It’s difficult to find one that combines a broad shoulder with a narrow waist. This one did.

  “Want to go for a drink?”

  “No,” I said mildly. “Thanks. I’m going to work out.”

  “Okay,” he shrugged eloquently. No one, not even my colleagues, seemed to believe I’d reformed. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you.”

  I went down the six floors to the car park and got into my new BMW i8. Of all the things I found to complain about in my job, that car was the thing to sweeten them all. With the whisper-soft engines and massive horsepower, I at least had a drive to and from work that was a pleasure. Traffic jams and all.

  “Okay, maybe not the traffic jams.”

  I sighed as I sat behind the wheel. Being able to go from halted to a hundred and eighty miles per hour in seconds was all very well if you could actually find a piece of road that didn’t have uncounted cars backed up on it, all honking and losing their tempers.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” I muttered under my breath as someone honked nearby. “We’re all stuck. It’s heavy traffic. Patience!”

  I switched on the radio but there wasn’t anything decent on so I switched if off again. Shortly thereafter, the traffic began creeping ahead. I followed it all the way to the gym.

  I worked out with a grim focus that surprised even me. Yes, I have a side that is very single-minded. Stubborn as a donkey, my dad says. But I don’t usually follow my exercise program with such single-minded dedication. By the end of my hour’s session I was sweating. I headed off to the shower and stood under the hot tap, letting the steam soothe my aching muscles.

  Not bad.

  I scrubbed at myself with the flannel, noticing that my abs were harder than I recalled, my shoulders broader.

  Back in my car about half an hour later, I found myself thinking about the girls in the club. I couldn’t quite believe it was a month, nearly, since I’d been there. How I’d managed to turn myself off so abruptly I had no idea.

  Maybe I had so much I just don’t have an appetite for things like that anymore.

  A pulling sensation in my groin reminded me that wasn’t true. I sighed.

  Okay. Perhaps I still want sex. But not like that.

  The sort of intimacy girls gave you because they wanted to get stuff out of you wasn’t what I had in mind. I really wanted to find someone I could talk to. Someone to love, if I was honest.

  I had a few girlfriends over the years—mostly girls I met at parties and receptions. I had liked some of them a lot; trusted them. But somehow I’d come off worse for wear. They had been users. Father had been right. I was not really sure I wanted to go there again. I hadn’t had a girlfriend for a year. Which was maybe why I’d gone off the rails so badly this year, if I thought about it. I wanted someone I could feel close to, basically.

  But, failing that, I thought as my body hardened and my poor system ached just thinking about the things I used to get up to on Fridays at the clubs and parties, I wouldn’t mind a bit of a nice evening.

  I knew I shouldn’t, but I found myself driving to the clubs. Not the same one I was at last month with Alex—I didn’t want him to know I was getting back to my habits. The old crowd had been hard enough to leave as it was.

  My feet led me to the Flamingo Club, which was almost as dodgy as it sounded. Actually, let me rephrase that. The club itself was just fine. The place it was in was…secluded. By which I meant it was on the wrong side of town, though it was essentially the right sort of club. It was there mainly for people like me: people who wanted to avoid other people knowing what they did.

  Which was exactly what I wanted.

  I stopped outside the place. The lights were on, the bouncer—Alfred, I think his name was—standing outside in his black suit. The music was discreet but I could almost hear it, as if it played inside me. I recalled the last time I was there. I had been with a dancer—Sammy, I think she said her name was—and she had been amazing. My groin twitched at the memories of what she could do. But at the same time, the thought made me feel a bit weird. She wasn’t there because she liked you…far from it.

  I gave a sour smile. I would have to be stupid to think any of these people—from Alex and the crowd I’d hung around with before, to the girls in all their multitude—actually liked me. Dad was right. They’re all in it for what they can get. Nothing more.

  I stayed where I was in my car, contemplating the scene. Saw Alfred see me and decide to look more closely. He was on the brink of recognizing me, or at least my car—I could see the hesitant smile on his dark face when he looked up—when I decided to go.

  All I need is Alfred recognizing me and coming over to persuade me to go in. I don’t think I could deal with that. What could I possibly say that would make him understand
I don’t want to anymore?

  I put my foot on the gas and headed off faster than I had to into the night.

  If it hadn’t started raining just then, I would have been speeding when the traffic light changed. As it was, I’d slowed down. I didn’t want to skid on the wet road. Which meant I was just in time to stop when the light went red and not skid. Which was just as well, since the woman who ran out in front of my car didn’t stop.

  “Help!” she shouted.

  I didn’t even think about it. I stalled the car, jumped out of the door. Ran to her. To help.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jackie

  I couldn’t believe I had just run into the main road. As I saw the headlights I realized and I screamed. The car stopped.

  A man jumped out. Just then, that wasn’t what I wanted to see. My heart was still surging from the run I’d just had. Somewhere behind me the Five Star Gang was still looking for me. And now here was more trouble.

  “Wait!” he shouted.

  I froze where I was—instinct of lifetimes—and then ran onward, my feet slipping on the sidewalk. I was heading up it in the same direction as the traffic was going—away from the man. At least If I stay by the main road, they won’t do anything to me. Too many people would see them.

  “Please…” the man’s voice called behind me. “Wait?”

  I stopped and turned around. Some instinct told me he was not a gang boss or some other nefarious character. He said please, for a start. And if he’d been lying in wait for me, why would he have slammed on brakes in time not to kill me? He had walked a few paces behind me, and now stood about five meters away. I could see his shoes from where I stood, my hands on my knees, breathing deeply. I guessed I should say thank you.

  “Thanks,” I said, still leaning over. “Thanks for not squashing me.”

  He whistled. “Don’t thank me,” he said with a laugh. “But…why were you running back there? You looked scared.”

  “I was.”

  I straightened up and looked at him. My heart was beating at more or less the proper rate now. My eyes moved from his shoes to his face. Then stopped right there.

  He is so, so stunning.

  Of all the strange things to think when it’s late at night and you’ve just been chased by a notorious street gang, that was probably the strangest. But I couldn’t help it. He was stunning. With magnificent brown hair, blue eyes and a thin face that looked like a master sculptor had chiseled it with precision tools, I couldn’t take my eye off him. Not to mention the rest of him. He was tall—about six foot four, I guessed, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist and long, muscled legs.

  “Do you need to go somewhere?” he asked with a smile. Gorgeous smile. “Only…it’s raining and I can’t leave you out in the cold.”

  Not only was he stunning, he was polite too. And he’d just offered me a lift.

  “I’m okay,” I said, turning back to the road.

  Just because he looked like a fairytale prince didn’t mean he wasn’t a murderer or something. If I got into a car alone with him, anything could happen. I patently wasn’t okay. I was more or less lost, my car was outside the school and I had no way of reaching it again without going through the worst area of town. In the middle of the night. When it was raining.

  He raised a brow. He didn’t need to say anything more. The rain was coming fast now. I shivered and stood there, thinking through my options. I didn’t take long—there were only two. Stay here on the sidewalk and freeze, or go with Mr. Sexy.

  “It’s raining,” he said redundantly. “I can’t leave you out here.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.” He looked surprised that I’d accepted so easily. I laughed. “I accept. I guess you’re not a mass murderer or something?” I asked casually as we walked back toward the stoplight, where his car was still parked. He unlocked it, then stared at me.

  “Sorry?” he burst out laughing. “Am I what?”

  “Well,” I said, impatient. It wasn’t a stupid question. “You could be. Out here alone in the dark, stopping to help me. Why should I trust you?”

  He sighed. “Good question. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I can’t prove I’m not, can I? We could go to the police station and ask them to do a clearance, but it’s late and it’s dark and I don’t think we want to do that. Without that, could you trust me?”

  I put my head on one side and looked at him. It was cold and the rain was getting down the back of my neck. He had kind eyes, I decided. And the way he was looking at me, so hesitant, as if he expected me to slap him and run away, decided me.

  “I’ll try.”

  He smiled. A big smile this time. It lit up his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. He had a smooth face apart from the faint trace of lines around his eyes and I guessed him to be no more than four years older than me—at the most. He looked happy with my reply.

  “Thanks,” he said humbly. “Now do you think we could get in? It’s really wet out here and we’ll get cold.”

  I laughed. “Thanks.”

  He slid into the driver’s seat and I got in and shut the door. It was only when I was sitting there, perched awkwardly on the seat, that I realized it was a leather seat and the dashboard was beautifully matte and intimidating and the car was easily the most stylish one I’d seen.

  I looked at him shyly. He looked back. Who was this guy? Oddly, he looked equally shy. Why? He looked like Prince Charming and drove whatever this car was…why would he, of all people, be shy? Anyway—for whatever reason it was clearly up to me to break the silence.

  “Sorry,” I said with a laugh. “I guess I should say something. I’m Jackie Jefferson.”

  “Oh.” He smiled. “Rude of me—I’m Scott West.”

  “Hi, Scott,” I said, holding out a hand. He shook it. His hand was warm, the grip muscled and firm. It felt nice on my hand. I shivered and our eyes met.

  Was it my imagination, or was there a little glint in those eyes? It wasn’t because I was cold that I was shivering. The car was warm and my toes were thawing nicely. It was the way he looked at me that made me shift awkwardly in my seat, taking back my hand.

  He looks like he wants me.

  It was a surprise. I was not what I considered a beauty. Compactly-built with a gentle-looking face and big boobs, I always thought the boobs were my chief—my only—attraction. But under my winter coat he couldn’t see them. He could only see, well, me.

  “Ahem.” I cleared my throat, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. “Sorry, I nearly crashed into you back there. Were you on your way somewhere?” I asked.

  “Not exactly,” he said. “Just going home.”

  “Oh.”

  I glanced sideways at him. He was wearing a very expensive-looking suit in navy blue, the shirt white and screaming designer wear. His hair was styled immaculately and he smelled of a rich, spicy cologne, the smell of which was doing something odd to my loins. If this is what he wears to work, well…he doesn’t work on this side of town, anyhow.

  “I took a detour,” he explained smoothly. “Now, I need to ask you something. Where can I take you?”

  I cleared my throat again, banished the distractions from my mind and said, very properly, “Eight Camden Way, please.”

  He nodded. “We should stop and put that in the GPS.” He swerved off the road at the next stopping place and reached for the GPS. As he fiddled about in the glove box, his hand brushed my thigh. I jerked at the contact. I had just been running from a gang. If I closed my eyes, I could still hear the yells. I was tired now, my nerves shattered. I closed my eyes.

  “Sorry,” he said. He looked into my eyes, and I sighed. The merest touch of his hand had set off a chain reaction inside me, and I felt a deep sense of longing. I closed my eyes momentarily.

  “It’s okay,” I managed. “Don’t worry about it.”

  He smiled back. “Cars never seem to have enough room in them, do they?”

  “No.” I wondered what we might need extra room
for, but then bit my lip. Just because he was stunning and sexy didn’t mean he thought about sex all the time. I was sure he was just thinking about getting me back to my home and out of the rain. And right now, with my nerves so on edge and my heart still fluttering in my chest, that was pretty much what I wanted too.

  “Okay. Ready to go. Eight Camden Way coming up.”

  “Thank you,” I said in a small voice.

  “Pleasure.”

  I leaned back and shifted in the seat, appreciating the feel of the car as it drew off smoothly.

  “Awesome car,” I managed to say.

  “Thanks.” He grinned. He was evidently really proud of this car, as he well should be. “A BMW i8. I love it too. Awesome handling. Quiet. And the acceleration on this thing…I’d show you, but we’d get caught by the cops and I don’t think we want that right now.”

  I smiled. He sounded so enthusiastic when he talked about cars. It made me wish I knew more about them, just so I could see him smile. My dad was a mechanic, and I did know some things.

  “It’s got the new three-cylinder engine?” I asked.

  He looked at me, amazed. “Yeah! How did you know that?”

  “My dad’s a mechanic,” I said shyly. He looked so pleased that I knew something about cars! I looked at my hands and my face flushed.

  “Not many people know car stuff like that,” he said, sounding impressed.

  “It’s the first time I spoke to a guy about engines,” I admitted shyly. He laughed.

  “Well, don’t get me started! I could talk about them all day.”

  “Really?” That interested me. What did this guy do for a living? He looked like he must work in film—acting in it, he had the looks—but why did he know engines?

  “Yeah. Whoops…we missed a turn, didn’t we?” he asked, looking back at the screen. “See? You distracted me.”

  I laughed. “Sorry. Got carried away.”

  “My fault,” he said. “Well, we seem to have a new route…Tell me when I get to the turn.”

  “I’ll try,” I said. Focusing on the little illuminated screen was hard. I was so tired. I hadn’t realized how running from that gang had frayed my nerves ‘til now.