Nanny for the Don (Silver Fox Daddies #21)

Chapter 3

Jason

A udrey Smith is something else.

I knew it from the moment she walked into my office. Despite her visible discomfort from the cold, it suits her. Her long, blonde hair was slightly curly and pulled into a messy bun. Her cheeks were flushed, her full lips tantalizing. Those icy blue eyes still haunt me. I don’t think she’s aware of how gorgeous she actually is underneath those heavy knit sweaters and thick overcoats.

As soon as I saw her, my heart jumped, and my pants became tight. I had to work overtime to keep a cool and composed attitude. Audrey’s problems are legitimate—she’s not the only one dealing with heating failures at The Emerald, and I know I bought a fucking mess from that hedge fund—but somebody had to save those buildings and restore them to their former glory. I had money to spare and I was in need of a project.

I simply didn’t imagine I’d meet someone like her in the process.

I tried to focus on listening to what she had to say. Hell, I was actually quite pleased with how I handled that entire conversation, and I almost managed to put her out of my mind until last night. She didn’t mean to send me that text—I’ll bet everything I’ve got on it. Audrey Smith doesn’t strike me as a dirty-minded vixen. She teaches kindergarten, for fuck sake.

I knew it had to be a mistake, yet I couldn’t resist the temptation to respond. My cock jumped as I read the words. I had to do something about it, so I kept reading them until I got a brief but hefty release. It’s been a while since I rubbed one out while thinking about a woman I’ve only just met.

It’s late afternoon, and I’m already sipping whiskey.

In my defense, it’s been a long week, and the fact that Audrey insists on popping back into my thoughts every other fucking minute isn’t helping. I should be focusing on something else, but her words keep flashing across my brain unbidden, and I’m distracted all over again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I have abandoned all trust in women after what Ramona did. I would’ve given her the world. We had it all —the romance, the relationship, the passion. After everything I went through, Ramona was supposed to be my happy ending, and I was determined to be hers. So, I gave it my all, and I married her. I gave her my name. We created a baby, and we were going to raise Lily together, like the best friends and partners I believed we were.

Except Ramona had other plans, plans that included cheating with my best friend and leaving me to raise our daughter alone. I’ve been doing the best I can for the past couple of years. I love Lily more than anything in this world, and I would do anything for her. But it’s been a lonely and exhausting road, at least on an emotional level. Lily is almost five now and is starting to ask more questions about her mother. I don’t yet know how to explain certain things without vilifying Ramona in the process.

I hear the door open, signaling that Lily and her nanny, Rita, have returned.

Instantly, I light up from the inside and set my empty glass on the table. I manage to put everyone else out of my mind, Audrey included, and slap on the softest smile I can muster while I go into the entryway to greet them.

“Daddy!” Lily shouts as soon as she sees me, then rushes into my arms.

I scoop her up and shower her with kisses. She giggles and hides her face in my chest. Rita laughs as she puts Lily’s coat and boots away.

“Welcome back, munchkin!” I tell my daughter, then give Rita an appreciative nod. “How were the piano lessons?”

“Good, actually,” Rita replies. “Her teacher says she’s a natural. She would like to keep working with Lily.”

I couldn’t be prouder as I look at my daughter and revel in her excitement. “I like it,” my little girl says. “I like playing the piano.”

“You do? Why?” I ask.

“I like the songs. They make me happy!”

“Gosh, you should’ve seen her, Mr. Winchester. She was so nervous at first,” Rita says. “But Mrs. Fogarty is kind and patient, and she works with kids Lily’s age on a daily basis so she knew exactly how to handle Lily’s jitters.”

“Maybe I’ll join you for your next lesson,” I tell Lily. “Can I?”

“Not until I’m ready,” Lily replies, frowning slightly.

“Ready for what?”

For a moment, I’m reminded of how much she looks like me. Her brown hair is long and curly like Ramona’s and frames her pale, round face, but everything else is bits and pieces of me. The hazel green eyes. The smile. The way she scrunches her nose when she’s thinking hard about something. Lily is her own person, though, and all I can do is make sure she has every opportunity to grow and become the best version of herself for as long as I draw breath.

“I want to do the … the …” Lily pauses, failing to remember something, so she looks at Rita for guidance.

Rita has been working for me since Lily was two years old. She picks up on my daughter’s cues with lightning speed every time. “’The Moonlight Sonata,’ I believe, is what Mrs. Fogarty said,” Rita replies.

“‘The Moonlight Sonata,’” Lily repeats after her.

She looks adorable in her green tartan dress and white stockings. Like a Victorian doll but with a spunky Winchester attitude. I wish I had a bigger family to give her. I’m all she has, and she’s all I have. We’ll have to do for each other, at least for a while, but Lily doesn’t seem to mind.

“So, you won’t let me come to any of your piano lessons until you can play ‘The Moonlight Sonata’ for me?” I ask her.

“Yes.”

“Aiming for perfection,” Rita says with a wink.

“Fair enough. But I expect you to tell me everything about what you’re learning along the way,” I tell Lily. “And I hope you’ll keep practicing on our piano as well.”

I bought the Steinway I just can’t wait to hear my daughter play it.

“I will, Daddy!” Lily promises.

Rita comes over and takes Lily into her arms. “Come on, time to get changed and ready for dinner.”

“You should go home,” I tell Rita. “I can cook or order something in.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Winchester, it’s my pleasure,” Rita retorts. “You do enough as it is.”

“Well, so do you. It’s the weekend; you shouldn’t have troubled yourself.”

Rita puts on a warm smile while Lily plays with the locks of her greying hair. “I have been working with you long enough to recognize that there are moments, even on the weekends when you could use more time to yourself, so I urge you to take advantage of my presence and go and pour yourself another drink,” she says. “You deserve it.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I simply understand how hard you work on a daily basis,” Rita replies. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, this little one needs to change so she can help me with dinner.”

“Thank you, Rita.”

“What are we eating? Spaghetti and meatballs?” Lily chimes in, her eyes wide with excitement. “Please?”

“All right, all right,” Rita feigns exhaustion. “Spaghetti and meatballs it is. You’re lucky I went grocery shopping yesterday.”

I laugh and plant a kiss on my daughter’s cheek before I leave her in Rita’s care. The penthouse is big enough for them to move around in without us crossing paths, though Lily will find every moment she can to either come over to check on me or to call me into the kitchen so I can help them with something. Not that I mind; I welcome the momentary respite.

For a few minutes there, my mind felt clear.

Rita can read me so well. I believe she can tell when I’m about to tune out. Maybe she can read it on my face. She is one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever come across, and it’s certainly one of the reasons why our professional relationship is working out so well. That, and she treats and loves my daughter like her own flesh and blood. I couldn’t ask for more.

Once I’m back in my seat by the window, I pour myself another scotch and go through the stock exchange dashboard to see where we’re at. Most brokers are off for the weekend, but I do plenty of speculation on my own whenever I get the chance. S&P is looking good this afternoon.

A sudden text message pops up.

“Audrey,” I whisper. My breath gets stuck in my throat. My thumb won’t move, but I am eager to open the message. My heart is racing. Does she regret what she wrote last night? Did I make an even bigger fool of myself by replying?

I’ll never know unless I open the damned thing.

I won’t apologize for that text, it reads, and I can’t help but smile.

A sense of relief washes over me. I can almost see her, with her messy hair and wide eyes, trying to look defiant. I don’t like the idea of her living in a cold apartment, though. I don’t like the idea of her being in any kind of discomfort.

I wouldn’t want you to, I reply, then lean back into my chair.

I have no idea where this conversation will lead, but I know I want to know more about her. And I most certainly want to put that list of hers to the test.

END OF PREVIEW