Urgent: One Nanny Required (Crimson Romance) (14 page)

It was ironic, considering all her mother ever wanted was to be acknowledged by Hollywood. Here she was, Hollywood throwing itself at her feet and she knew she’d never be good enough. Especially not for the likes of him.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she continued, her voice catching as a single tear made its way down her cheek and she dropped her eyes, focusing on the swirling patterns of the dress. She started as she felt his hand on hers. The warmth permeating the coldness that suddenly surrounded her as his other hand clasped her chin, moving her head carefully up to face his; his thumb gently wiping the route that the tear had taken.

She tried hard to focus on something other than him, but his eyes drew her like a magnet and she looked up, the longing she felt reflected in the light blue depths of his eyes. She couldn’t help it. The worries and insecurities of the past melted away as his lips descended over hers, her name a whispered caress on his lips. His scent mixed with the chlorine from the pool, engulfing her senses and Rania closed her eyes, breathing him in. She felt her heart beat quicken at the soft, firm pressure of his lips. Gently at first, then more insistent and she moved her arms up, bringing him closer.

She gasped as she felt his hands slide under her legs and she felt herself being lifted. Pulling her lips away, she saw they were now in the corridor. He stopped and looked down at her, his face flushed, an unspoken question in his eyes. Brushing her lips against his jaw line in answer, she felt an age-old womanly thrill at his groan of pleasure, moving her lips to rest on his Adam’s apple, then further down his neck.

He stopped on the stairs, his eyes closed as if in pain. “Woman, if you don’t stop that we won’t make it as far as the bedroom.”

Giggling at the unexpected feeling of joy, she pursed her lips up into a pout. “Oh okay, be a spoilsport,” followed by more giggling as the happy bubble inside her grew. Her eyes widened as they bypassed her room and went straight to his.

Nick kicked the door open, and she found herself lain across the wide, silver sheeted bed, the satin smoothness cold against her back. She closed her eyes at the pure pleasure of it. The bed dipped as he lay down next to her and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, eyes clouded with hesitancy. Cupping his face between her hands, she brought it down to hers, moving her lips gently over his, a small moan escaping her as she felt his tongue slide along her bottom lip and his hands begin to pull at her dress.

She wouldn’t think about anything. Tonight was not a night for thinking. It was not a night to worry about the “what-ifs” or the regrets.

It was a night to just be.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she froze as her gaze traveled around the unfamiliar surroundings. The heavy weight of a male arm across her body reminded her that yesterday had not been a dream. Neither had last night, nor this morning; each time more perfect and magical than the last. She recalled, too, how he’d always been the sensible one and remembered to use protection, even when her head was dancing in the clouds.

Resisting the urge to squeal with delight, she smiled widely, trying to roll over as subtly as possible to avoid waking her slumbering bed partner. He was more gorgeous in the morning if that were even possible. The morning sun floated through the venetian blinds and highlighted some of his blond hair, making it turn gold.

Keeping her hands by her side to avoid reaching out and touching it, another thought struck her. What the hell did she do now? When she was with Ben, they used to carry on like normal. Mundane and dull. But she had to admit what she had shared with Ben couldn’t hold a candle to this. She hadn’t even known it could be like this, feeling embarrassed all the way to her toes as she remembered saying something along the same lines to Nick last night. He’d just chuckled and kept showing her how it could be, how it should be.

The gentle snore was cute but she couldn’t ignore the needs that dictated she use the bathroom. Like now. Wriggling out from under his arm, she froze as he murmured in his sleep, dragging his arm across his body and rolling over to the other side.

Phew, she wasn’t quite ready to do the morning-after pillow talk. Her morning-after pillow talk was as good as her everyday small talk and even she had to admit, that was pretty lame. Aching in places she never knew existed, she picked up her scattered clothes.

Did etiquette dictate she use her own bathroom or his? Picking the safest option, she tiptoed across the floor and out into the corridor, breathing a sigh of relief as she remembered Theo was at Will’s house. Tending to her morning routine, she looked out of her window, the already hot day promising to be another scorcher. Slipping into a dark tangerine playsuit, she gave herself the once over, nodding her approval.

Hesitating at the corridor, she frowned at her own indecision. She was sure the more experienced women of Nick’s acquaintance would probably just slide back into bed with him. Shame she wasn’t one of those women. She was more the “head in the sand” sort of girl.

Her stomach growled in protest at the lack of food in almost twenty-four hours. Throwing one last glance in the direction of Nick’s bedroom door, she made her way downstairs, locating the necessary ingredients to make good old-fashioned English pancakes, one of the few recipes she could make from memory.

The repetitious activity of mixing and stirring and whisking calmed her overwrought nerves, every fiber on alert for the sound of padding male feet. Turning on the electric mixer, she jumped as she felt two strong arms encircle her waist as a pair of familiar lips snuffled into her hair.

“Something looks good. What you making?” The gruff, sleepy voice made every nerve ending tingle. Not to mention the tingling in other places that she was sure were too sore to be tingling again so soon.

“English pancakes. With … ” She leaned across as far as his arms would allow to grab the ingredients. “Strawberries or chocolate spread.”

“Mmmm,” The soft vibrating sound near her ear made her hand tremble, the electric mixer almost shooting off along the kitchen counter. She always knew playing this game with Nick could be dangerous, but after the near-whisk accident, she didn’t think it could be that dangerous.

“You know I’ve got a great idea involving strawberries and chocolate spread. And it doesn’t involve pancakes.” His throaty laugh made her tingly all the way to her toes.

“Yes, I bet you just do. But after the physical workout last night, I need sustenance. And so do you,” she teased, one hand holding the whisk, the other reaching behind her and poking him gently in the back.

“Or the best way to build up stamina isn’t sustenance but practice. Lots and lots of practice,” Her head fell backward as he punctuated every word with light feathery kisses to her neck.

The shrill ring of the telephone pulled them out of their daze. Cursing, Nick let go of her to answer it, giving her a full view of a tight butt in faded jeans and nothing else. If she’d been alone, she’d probably have danced around the kitchen.

“Morning, schmoo! Yes, we’re fine. How’s your sleepover going? Good, good. You are? That’s great, have fun.” He moved the phone away from his ear, waving it at her. “Theo wants to talk to you.” He smiled as she sauntered across.

“Hey, love. How are you?” She felt her heart skip a beat at hearing his voice. Despite everything that had happened from yesterday until today, walking around the house without a mini-cyclone at her feet made the house feel empty. Twirling the phone cord around her finger, she smiled at his excited chatter about how they were at Universal Studios and how Kirk and Claudia had special rights there because they were famous.

She loved hearing the joy and security in his voice; a little part of her saddened for the little girl she used to be who always wished for the same, but never got it. Until now. “Okay, love, I’ll let you go. Be careful!”

Hanging up she turned back to Nick who was busy watching her, hand held electric mixer in one hand as it spun in a circle. “You do know you’re meant to actually move that, right? Strangely, it has more effect that way,” she said, throwing him a saucy grin.

“Really? So I have to manually interfere while using an electric mixer that is meant to whisk for me. See if I wanted to do it myself, I would have brought a portable mixer,” he told her, eyeing the contraption as if it was out to sabotage his pancake-making abilities.

“And that would have been fine, too,” she said, taking the whisk from him and turning it off. “Tsk tsk. And here I was thinking you were a good British boy at heart. You’re becoming Hollywood-fied.”

Turning on the stove, she gave the creamy mixture a final whisk before spooning small amounts into a pan, watching it bubble and simmer.

“Hollywood-fied? Is that even a word?” His expression was dubious at her new vocabulary.

“Well if it isn’t, then it should be,” she retorted before loosening the solidified pancake around the edges, flipping it into the air as it landed with a perfect pat back in the frying pan.

“Whooo hoo, check me out,” she exclaimed as she laughed.

He grinned back and her stomach flip-flopped in response. “C’mon, push over. Let me have a turn,” he said, nudging her aside gently with his hip.

“Okay, but it’s not as easy as it looks,” she warned. She stood back as he loosened the pancake in the pan and flipped it in the air. The golden creation landed with a soft pat on the side of the stove.

Covering her hand to stifle a giggle, she ran a hand up and down his arm comfortingly, “There, there. I did warn you it was hard work.”

Laughing out loud at the mock growl, she nudged him away from the stove, scooping more pancake mix into the pan.

“All right then, Yoda, how do I flip a pancake?” he asked, standing behind her. His warm breath on the back of her neck made her want to forget the pancakes, forget hunger, and take him back upstairs.

“If I had a penny every time a guy asked me that!”

“You’d have exactly one penny?” came the dry comment from behind her and she elbowed him playfully in the stomach.

“Okay, so first lesson in flipping. One, make sure the underside is fully dry and by dry I mean cooked. You don’t want any sticky uncooked bits because then you’ll try to flip and it’ll curl over like a calzone. Not nice.” She demonstrated by swirling the pancake around, ensuring it moved all the way.

“Got it. Dry bottom. Next,” he said obediently.

“So you loosen it like this, then flip a little bit like so … ” She flipped her wrist, watching the pancake somersault through the air and land with a light pat back on the pan. “And voilà. A perfectly flipped pancake.”

Leaning back, she felt the grumble of his tummy and grabbing a dish from the side served the pancake onto a plate. “Here you go. You can get started on that while I finish up the rest,” She moved aside as he reached for it, spreading chocolate sauce on top and tucking in greedily.

Within seconds, it was gone and he was staring at her wide-eyed.

“So how was it?”

“Amazing. You, Miss George, are a very talented woman,” he murmured leaning across and lightly brushing his lips over hers, the faint taste of chocolate spread, making it even tastier.

“So you’re not disappointed that I’m no Mary Poppins or Maria from
The Sound of Music
?”

“Nah. If I wanted Theo to sing and play guitar, I’d have paid for lessons. And who wants a nanny who flies through the air and makes cleaning up a game,” he said, eyes sparkling.

She flew through the rest, flipping pancakes like there was no tomorrow, depositing one after the other on the plate. Directing him to bring the plates and cutlery, she perched happily on the edge of a chair, enjoying the novelty of the domestic bliss as he poured her coffee and she rationed out the pancakes.

“Seriously, Rania. These are amazing. I haven’t tasted anything like this in ages!” The sigh of pleasure from his lips as he forked in another mouthful pleased her inner domestic goddess.

“It’s probably because these are English pancakes. Little bit different from the ones over here,” she said, spreading some chocolate sauce on hers and cutting it with the fork. “So … ” she began, pointing the fork at him, “You said you grew up here then back to the UK. Then what? Why come back?”

“That’s easy. Work. If you want to work in film, then LA is the place to be. I challenge you to find anyone working in British film or TV who wouldn’t rather be here.”

He had a point. Not that she knew many — or really any — people in the British TV or film industry since her mother passed away. They hadn’t been too concerned with keeping in touch with her after the fabulous Dana George died. Which was just fine with her.

“Of course it probably helped that I knew people here already. In this business it’s very much who you know to get a foot in the door. If they like you, they keep you; if they don’t, then you’re out” he told her, reaching for his coffee.

“Sounds horrible. So the Trenton name is something of Hollywood royalty around here?”

He smiled, the small dimple appearing in his cheek. “It wasn’t among the paparazzi and newspapers till me but, in the industry itself, yeah the Trenton name means something.”

Popping a plump strawberry into her mouth, she sighed as the sweet juices danced along her palate, freezing as he wiped away a stray droplet of juice on the side of her lip with his thumb. Her insides jitterbugged at the contact and she wondered how long etiquette demanded they stay down stairs before they could lose themselves in each other’s arms again. Not that she had ever been one of those forward girls to suggest something like that but she did have her fantasies.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Using the best avoidance tactic she knew at this point, she began shoveling pancake into her mouth, pointing at it and shrugging as if that explained everything.

Leaning back, he eyed her steadily and she took a sip of her coffee, the pancake suddenly feeling very dry. She didn’t like that look. The look that pierced the well-secured barriers she had erected.

“You seem pretty cosmopolitan. How come you’ve never been to the States before?”