The Boss's Baby Affair (10 page)

As he watched her pick up a white towel and dry her face, it struck Nick that Candace must be thinking about the coming years without Jennie. He would be there for their daughter. Candace would be gone. His daughter would have no mother to guide her through the minefield of teen-girl years.

Hell.

Of course he'd lean on his sister for help and, in time, Candace would have a family of her own. A husband. Babies…

Emotion flared inside him. He couldn't imagine her with some other, faceless man. It hurt to think of her with a child other than Jennie.

The intensity of his response took him by surprise. What the hell was going on?

The answer came at once.

Nick didn't need to watch Candace towel off those tantalizing legs to know he wanted to stroke her skin, kiss her lips, make love to her. He didn't want some other man sharing the moments he dared not even admit to fantasizing about.

Jennie chose that moment to protest and look around, an expression of bewildered panic on her face.

“You want Mommy?” Bending his head, Nick whispered against her ear, “Me, too. But that's our secret, 'kay? Because it's an impossible fantasy.”

Jennie grumbled.

Nick knew exactly how the baby felt. For now he could be generous. “It's all right, I'll take you to her.”

With the baby in his arms, Nick waded over to the steps. When he reached the top step, Candace was waiting. Jennie almost leaped out of Nick's arms and Candace swaddled her in the thick towel.

The bond wasn't all on Candace's side—Jennie was equally drawn to her biological mother.

The gold rays of the sun caught her face as she gazed at the baby in her arms, her expression content and happy. “I'd better get her some supper. She'll be hungry after that swim.”

“Why don't you feed her out here?” suggested Nick. “It's such a beautiful summer evening—no point wasting it by being closeted inside.”

Candace hesitated only for a second. “Okay. I'll take her upstairs to whip her swimsuit off and put a dry diaper on, then bring her dinner out.”

Nick watched her saunter to the glass doors, her hips swaying, the content, gurgling baby in her arms. Everything worked so well now. Yet Nick knew Candace's time with
Jennie was limited. And, for him, becoming involved with Candace was an impossible fantasy.

Because of their daughter.

Nor could Candace continue to live with them. It would only cause heartache for Jennie in the long term. The longer it lingered, the greater the hurt would be. Nick knew the situation could only end in tears.

Candace was going to have to leave. Sooner would be better for Jennie; and the woman who had him tied up in sexual knots was going to hate him even more when he suggested it.

 

Candace had been right, Nick realized twenty minutes later. Jennie was hungry, and it didn't take long for the baby to devour her dinner.

Sitting across the table from Candace, with Jennie in a high chair between them as the sun's sloping rays reflected off the mirrored surface of the water, the mood felt almost domestic.

Nick watched Jennie's eyelids droop. He'd opened a bottle of crisp Sauvignon Blanc and poured both himself and Candace a glass, but hers was still full.

Candace followed his gaze. “She's almost asleep.”

“Why don't you put little madam to bed and come back and finish your wine? I'll see what Mrs. Busby has planned for dinner.”

Nick suspected that he was playing with fire and Candace looked as though she might object. But she surprised him by saying, “A sandwich would suit me fine. I shouldn't be long.”

Adrenaline rushed through Nick's veins as he smiled at her. “Don't be.”

He told himself nothing was going to happen.

He and Candace were going to share a glass of wine together, have a light meal…and that would be the end of
it. He was capable of controlling his emotions…his desires. After all, he'd been doing it for years.

True to her word, Candace was back within fifteen minutes. To Nick's everlasting regret, she'd donned a pair of navy sweats and a white T-shirt. No sign of the aqua one-piece swimsuit remained. Pity…

But very much safer.

“Good timing,” said Nick. Mrs. Busby had just left after placing a tray of sandwiches on the table.

“Jennie is exhausted.” Candace set the baby monitor on the table and sank into the chair opposite, then pulled a plate toward her.

“It's the water. She should sleep well.”

“Until two o'clock.” Candace grimaced. “That's the drill.”

“She wakes up every night?” He hadn't known.

“Like clockwork.” Peeling back the protective food wrap that covered the platter of sandwiches, she said, “These look delicious.”

“Smoked chicken and avocado on this side. The others are Swiss cheese and salad.”

“Yum.” Candace helped herself. It didn't take long for them to demolish the contents of the tray, eating in companionable silence. When the platter was empty, Candace raised her wineglass. “To Mrs. Busby. She's a wonder.”

Leaning forward, Nick clinked his glass against hers. “I'll drink to that.”

Tilting her head to one side, Candace studied him. “She tells me she's worked for you for ten years.”

Had it already been a decade? Nick thought about it. He'd been married to Jilly for seven years, and Mrs. Busby had been with him for several years before Jilly had had this house designed, built and decorated. “It's possible. I first employed her when I lived over on the North Shore. I owned a drafty old Victorian house with an enormous garden.”

Jilly had hated the house as much as he'd loved it. It had been the first casualty of their marriage.

“Mrs. Busby told me about it—she said it had been built by one of the pioneers of the city. She misses it.”

“I never knew that.”

“She told me about the gardens—about the ferns you planted behind the house. She said it was like a secret world—she thought that Jennie would've loved playing in there, that it was the kind of place where a child could imagine fairies and elves.”

“Goblins, too.” Nick couldn't suppress the tide of nostalgia that the memory of the house brought.

“Don't you miss it?”

Candace's question brought him back to the present. He dismissed the momentary sense of loss, and his customary mantle of control dropped into place. He lived in the present, not the past. What happened now he could control. The past had already happened; nothing could change it.

“No.” To soften the brusque reply, he shrugged and said, “It was time to move on.”

Candace glanced up at the white structure behind them. “You moved on to something a lot more modern. This house is a completely different proposition.”

“It's a good investment—it's everything the market wants. Great architectural style. Location.” He gestured to the sea shimmering in the setting sun. “The value has more than doubled.”

There was no point saying it had been Jilly's house, not his. It had never felt like home.

Candace brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You want me to believe that you sold the Victorian house to upgrade to something that needed less restoration and was a better monetary investment?”

He met her gaze levelly. “What other reason could there be?”

She made an impatient sound in her throat. “Mrs. Busby thought you lived here because Jilly loved it.”

After a pause, Nick said, “Sounds like Mrs. Busby and you had a real heart-to-heart chat.”

Leaning forward, Candace touched his arm. Lightning forked along his skin. “She wasn't gossiping,” she said earnestly. “She's very fond of you.”

“That surprised you?”

She looked startled by his question. Finally, she said, “Truthfully?”

“By all means be truthful.”

Nick braced himself, and hoped she wouldn't be too truthful.

“Yes, it did surprise me. You come across as being very distant and remote. Not the kind of man who would be easy to work for. Yet she's adamant that you're the best employer she's ever had—even though she seems to have found Jilly…” Candace hesitated “…trying sometimes. Not that she said it in so many words. It was more in what she
didn't
say—and how much she raved about you.”

“Mrs. Busby deserves a raise—for loyalty at the very least. Because Jilly
could
be trying.” And demanding. And insecure. And like the house she adored, with its plethora of glass and mirrors that needed constant shining, she'd been high-maintenance.

“Do you miss her terribly?”

Nick didn't hesitate. “No.”

Candace's eyes widened and her mouth formed an
O.

“Did you want me to lie to you?”

“My impression was that you were everything she'd ever wanted.”

Nick looked away. He fumbled and drew the gold wedding band off his finger. “It's long past time to take this off. What Jilly and I had could hardly be called a marriage.”

The sound of Candace's sharply drawn breath filled the sudden silence.

“Nick—”

He didn't look at her. “Jilly is dead. I don't want to conduct a postmortem over a marriage that never even got off the ground.”

Her hand stroked along his arm. “I never meant to—”

Man, she was killing him. The worst of it was she had no clue. Finally, he looked at her. “I should never have married Jilly.”

Her eyes were so soft he could've sworn she understood what he felt. The confusion. The guilt. The frustration at the lost years.

The yearning for a woman like her.

Her hand released him, and he felt the loss. Picking up her wineglass, Candace took a deep sip.

Nick knew how she felt. Except she had no idea how bad he had it—the whole damn bottle of wine wouldn't ease the desire that heated him, it would only inflame it. And Nick had no intention of losing sight of the most important aspect of his existence—his control.

However much he wanted Candace.

He knew the time had come to retreat. Before he lost his head and did something he might later regret. Rising to his feet, he said, “I have a long day tomorrow. I think I'll turn in.”

“Nick…”

He paused, his pulse thudding. “What is it?”

Candace shook her head. “Don't worry about it.”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

She hesitated, then said, “Do you still want me to come with you and Jennie to the carnival on Sunday?”

Nick was sure that wasn't what she'd planned to say, but he didn't challenge her. “Of course.” The coward in him added,
“Alison and her husband, Richard, and her boys will no doubt be there too. It's a great day out.”

Nick didn't want Candace guessing how pleased he was that she'd agreed to go.

A
welcoming banner festooned with hearts fluttered over the arched entrance to Valentine's Garden Super Center.

“How did you manage to arrange for so many roses to be in bloom for today's carnival?” Candace asked Nick as he pushed Jennie's stroller under the arch covered in cascades of red, pink and white.

Nick's mouth slanted. “Good planning—I leave nothing to chance.”

Candace gave him a narrow-eyed glance. Before she could react, a cloud of red, heart-shaped balloons floated toward them. A teenager wearing a T-shirt proclaiming
Valentine's… Gardens of Love
emerged from behind the bunch and held a balloon out to Candace.

“Thank you.” Candace smiled and accepted the red heart. Bending forward, she tied it to the stroller. Jennie's eyes lit up and her hand reached out. At her touch the balloon bobbed away, and Jennie squealed with pleasure.

Nick laughed. Straightening, Candace met his dancing
eyes. There was a moment of pure, joyous accord, before she came to her senses and walked away quickly, leaving Nick to follow with the stroller.

She couldn't allow herself to forget that Nick had wanted to get her out of her daughter's life. Candace knew the battle wasn't over yet. Nick was a hard-nosed businessman; he'd simply be choosing his time to regroup and attack again. She dared not let her guard down.

Inside the garden center, a lively sight met her eyes. The area around the coffee shop had been transformed, with extra tables and chairs arranged on the cobbles, and red-and-white petunias cascading out of planter boxes. On the wooden adventure playground children swarmed down rope ladders and over wooden battlements, and beyond the playground red, blue, and yellow canvas booths had been set up. In the nearest booth three young women were painting toddlers' faces, while the booths beyond housed hook-the-fish, a skittle lane, a balloon twister and an assortment of other festive activities. “Goodness, it
is
a carnival.”

“Close enough.” Taking one hand from the stroller, Nick placed it under Candace's elbow and guided her through the crowd while deftly maneuvering the stroller with his other hand. Instantly, shivers skittered across the bare skin where his hand rested. Candace forced herself to pretend she hadn't noticed.

In the farthest corner a table had been cleared, and a waitress descended on them, brandishing menus. Nick's hand released Candace, and he drew out a chair for her and then parked the stroller with a suddenly heavy-eyed Jennie in the corner beside them.

“There are pony rides and more booths down by the lake—even a kissing booth,” said Nick.

Candace sat, determined not be drawn into a discussion about kissing. The lingering sizzle from where his hand had rested was more than enough. She didn't need any mention
of kissing to heighten the constant warmth that enveloped her whenever Nick was nearby. So she changed the subject. “It's all too much for Jennie to take in. Look, all the excitement, and she's almost asleep!”

Nick laughed, then greeted the waitress by name, took the menus and passed one to Candace. “What would you like? I recommend the berry smoothies.”

“A smoothie sounds lovely.” Candace was relieved that Nick hadn't pursued the topic of kissing booths.

The waitress gathered up the menus and departed. Candace glanced around. A little way off, an old-fashioned gazebo swayed with a trio of musicians. Plenty of older customers—and some younger couples—sat on the benches scattered throughout the carnival scene, enjoying the music. Her mother would've loved this…

But the days for this kind of pleasure were past for Catherine Morrison. “You've catered to everyone—all ages,” she said, trying not to let regret take hold at the thought of what her mother had lost.

Nick nodded. “Our Valentine's Sunday carnival is part of the annual social calendar for many of our customers. Some have been coming for years. Old couples. Young families. At the heart of it all, everyone wants love…a family…and a home.”

She liked him in this gentler mood. It wasn't the controlled—and controlling—Nick Valentine he usually presented to the world. This was a different Nick—nothing like the uncaring businessman she'd pegged him to be.

A much more likable Nick.

Fixing her attention on his face, she said, “You sound like you believe in that, too.”

“Of course I do. Our centers provide a chance for people to build fantastic gardens they and their families can enjoy—irrespective of age…or of how many people are in their families.”

The passion Nick was talking about was absent from the soulless perfection of the sculpted pool deck, flat lawns and clipped boxwood hedging of his own home. Candace couldn't keep from saying, “But what about your own garden?”

“What do you mea—”

“Nick! I almost didn't spot you hiding back there in the corner.” A stooping, angular woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a weather-beaten face stopped beside their table.

He got to his feet and gave her a great bear hug. “Bertha.”

Once Nick had pulled away from her embrace, the old lady's sharp green eyes inspected Candace, then dropped to Jennie sleeping in the stroller. “This is that newborn baby I came to your house to see?”

“This is Jennie.”

Could that be pride in Nick's voice?

“My, but she's grown.” The woman fixed an accusing stare on Nick. “I can't even pick her up because that would waken her. I keep telling you to bring her to work so I can see her.”

“I'm sorry.”

Nick Valentine actually sounded humble. Who was this woman?

Candace realized she was attracting equal interest. “I'm Candace.” She hesitated, then added, “Jennie's nanny.”

Not the whole truth, but a version she could live with.

For now.

“Candace, meet Bertha Williams.”

“This young man used to mow my lawns.”

“Bertha and Henry gave me a job in their garden center and taught me to grow vegetables, generate cuttings. They ignited my love of gardening and then convinced me that my dream to enroll in a landscaping course at night school could be turned into reality.”

“We owned it for forty years, before losing it. Nick had to wrest the center away from the businessman who was ready to build houses on the property. Henry and I might have been
fine gardeners but we couldn't keep the money straight.” Bertha's brutally honest account made no apologies for their shortcomings. “Nick set it right.” The old woman gave him a fond smile. “So after Nick moved us back into the manager's house seven years ago, I insisted that he hire me.”

Nick grinned at her. “It was a good investment.”

“Good for us, too. Since you took over the business it's given Henry and I time together. Even despite his heart attack, freed from the strain of running the business, the years have been wonderful.”

For once Candace couldn't believe that Nick's decision to employ Bertha had been driven solely by profit. Even though her eyes were bright with life, Bertha's hands were crippled with arthritis, her back hunched. Seven years ago she would've already been over sixty. Nick must really care about the old woman.

Yet he hadn't brought Jennie to visit her…

Because he hadn't believed that Jennie was his child?

Before she could speculate further, Bertha said, “Giving Nick a summer job all those years ago was the best business decision we ever made.”

“Flattery gets you everywhere,” Nick told Bertha, lifting his napkin as the waitress delivered the smoothies to the table.

Candace smiled her thanks to the waitress, placed her straw in the deep pink drink and sipped. Despite being so driven, it appeared Nick did have some redeeming qualities. Bertha clearly thought he was wonderful. Mrs. Busby had extolled his virtues as an employer and now Bertha was implying that he'd single-handedly saved their garden center. Would taking Jennie from her father be the best thing for the child?

Candace found herself wavering.

Then she forced herself to take stock. Jennie's well-being came first. She gazed at the man who had thrown her into such confusion. Could Nick Valentine match the kind of love she could give her daughter?

“Would you like to join us for a cup of tea, Bertha?” Nick was asking as he picked up his own smoothie.

Bertha glanced from Nick to Candace. A crafty expression crept across her time-wrinkled face. “I think I've kept you young people long enough.” Patting Candace's shoulder, she added, “Nick works too hard, my dear. Do an old lady a favor and make sure he takes it easy today…and has some fun.”

 

Satisfaction settled over Nick.

Down near the lake the carnival was in full swing. Two black ponies led by a woman with long braids plodded along the path beside the lake, their young riders clutching at the reins.

Things were finally going better, he decided as Candace slowed the stroller, in which Jennie was still sleeping, and brought it to a halt.

Changing Candace's belief that he was a poor parent hadn't been as easy as he'd thought it would be. For one thing, Nick found it difficult to talk about himself. For another, while he'd vowed to spend more time with Jennie and to behave more like her father, that meant changing habits of a lifetime. He would do it. He'd already made great strides in spending more time at home. Hell, even Pauline and his sister had noticed. Nick had every intention of honoring the promise he'd made to Jennie the day she'd almost ended up in the lake—except he'd never been the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Fortunately, his plan of inviting Candace to see firsthand the family-friendly empire he'd built had been nicely jump-started with Bertha's zealous endorsement. He could've kissed the woman who'd played such an important role in his life.

How could Candace not reconsider her low opinion of him?

A little way down the rolling bank, he caught sight of his sister waving frantically. “There's Alison,” he told
Candace. “Come on, if Jennie wakes up she can play with her cousins.”

They reached the lake, and he introduced Candace to his sister's husband, Richard, while their two sons crowded around—the four- and six-year-old both talking at once.

“Can we go see Princess Piggy?”

Nick shuddered theatrically.

“Scoot,” their father ordered.

“Can we have money to get some cotton candy?”

Alison rolled her eyes. “I'm sure your dad will give you money…be back in ten minutes.”

“I might go with them,” said Richard. “Just to make sure they don't get into trouble.”

As the boys and their father disappeared around the bend in the path, Alison turned to Candace and shook her head. “Kids! You're lucky you don't have any.”

As Nick glared at his sister, Alison immediately realized her mistake. “Oh, I'm so sorry, Candace, that was tactless, I wasn't thinking.”

“Who's Princess Piggy?” asked Candace in what Nick was sure was a brave attempt to distract his sister.

Alison brightened up. “Haven't you seen the kissing booth? You ought to get Nick to take you—it's his favorite booth.” Alison grinned.

Candace shot Nick a wary glance. Nick could've rung his sister's neck. “That's not very nice.”

Alison hooked her arms through his and Candace's and bore them both along with her. “See? There's Princess Piggy.”

Inside a fully enclosed booth was a pink pig sporting a strapped-on glitzy rhinestone crown and a passion-pink satin sash. Nick grimaced and his sister giggled.

“Look at Nick's face,” she whispered to Candace loudly enough for Nick to hear.

He watched as Candace glanced up at him and her gray eyes started to smile. Nick fought to keep his face impassive
and not give away the effect she had on him. “The funds we raise today will be donated to charity,” Nick explained. “Princess Piggy's stall is often one of the most successful.”

“People pay to kiss a pig?” The doubtful look Candace cast the Kiss-the-Princess banner above the stall told Nick what she thought of the idea.

Nick pointed to a row of glass jars with names written on the front in black marker, each containing money. “See those jars? People pay for someone else to kiss the pig. Around midday the contents are tallied up, and the person with the most monetary ‘votes' in his jar is tracked down and forced to kiss the Princess.” Nick gave the porker a sour look.

“I take it you've had to do that in years past?”

“My staff seem to think it's extremely amusing.”

“The proceeds go to charity and Nick's a good sport.” Alison pointed at the first jar. “I think I see your name there again this year.”

Nick groaned.

Beside him he heard Candace laugh, which almost made the prospect of kissing Princess palatable today.

“And here I imagined everyone was queuing up to kiss the prettiest woman at the fair.” Amusement lingered in Candace's voice.

Had she been jealous? Nick found the notion curiously heartening. But Candace bent forward over the railing, preventing him from reading the expression on her face.

“Princess Piggy's quite cute,” said Candace.

“Sure,” said Nick unenthusiastically. “Alison certainly thinks so.” He gave his sister a mock frown.

“Hey,” said Alison. “To make up for the fact that I'm certain you'll have to kiss the darling again today, I'll babysit for you tonight…if you want to take Candace out for dinner?”

Nick's heart flipped. But Candace was flushing as she said quickly, “No, no, that's not—”

Before she could turn down the offer, Nick cut in. “That's a
great idea. Thanks, Ally.” He touched Candace's arm. “Don't forget, Bertha told us to have fun.”

Candace's bottom lip jutted out endearingly, causing Nick to fight the impulse to kiss it.