Chapter Seven
Fletcher
Jennifer smiles at me sweetly. "Take a nice long shower, Fletcher. The children and I could use more time together to get to know each other better. I'd love to learn all about their likes and dislikes, what they do in school, all that important stuff."
"That's very thoughtful of you, Jennifer."
"All part of my job."
My brows lift. "None of the previous nannies or babysitters would do anything of the sort."
She shrugs. "I believe in building relationships so I can understand what children need. They'll feel more secure when they're heard and understood." Jennifer smiles. "Besides, I'm genuinely curious about them. They seem like wonderful kids."
Her directness catches me off guard. Most nannies say what they think parents want to hear, not what they actually believe. I stare at Jennifer for a moment too long, admiring how she stands her ground with quiet confidence. "That's refreshing, Jennifer. Thank you."
"Now please, go, take your shower." She all but shoves me away while smiling sweetly. "We'll be fine down here."
I nod and trudge upstairs, my mind still replaying that impulsive kiss from earlier.
The memory of it follows me into the bathroom as I strip off my work clothes and step under the hot spray.
The water pressure is pathetic---another thing on my endless list of projects---but the spray still feels heavenly against my tired muscles.
What am I doing? I've hired a nanny who kissed me within hours of meeting me, and instead of being appalled, I can't stop thinking about it.
About her. Those full breasts. The way she licks her lips whenever she glances at me.
Oh, and I can't forget her sexy legs. I begin to imagine myself hovering over her on all fours, admiring her naked body.
And then I plunge my cock deep inside her luscious body.
Bloody hell. I should not fantasize about the nanny.
While I scrub shampoo through my hair with more force than necessary, I experience a flash of insight.
Fantasizing about the nanny will only ever lead to disaster.
Four children, a demanding job, and now a beautiful nanny who tastes like mint and reminds me of things I'd forgotten I could feel.
The rational part of my brain insists I should maintain professional boundaries.
But the other part---the side that's been dormant for too long---keeps replaying the moment when her warm lips yielded to mine.
I rinse the soap from my hair and reach for the body wash. As I lather it across my chest, my treacherous mind conjures images of Jennifer's hands replacing mine. Her fingers trailing down my torso, and lower, wrapping around---
What is wrong with me? I'm getting hard just thinking about the nanny.
Faint pounding originates from somewhere downstairs. As I cup my cock with one hand, I realize the racket seems to be getting louder---and closer.
"No, Henry!" a feminine voice calls out. "Your daddy is---"
The bathroom door flies open, revealing my half-naked, half-aroused self to an eight-year-old boy. Oh, bollocks. Luckily, the frosted shower door hides my erection. Quite frankly, my hard-on deflated the moment the bathroom door flew open.
"Dad!" Henry shouts as he yanks the shower door open, completely oblivious to my state of undress as I frantically grab a towel to cover myself.
"Jennifer said I could show you my new drawing, but she also said I should wait.
But I really really wanted to show you now because it's a dinosaur eating our neighbor's cat and---"
"Henry!" Jennifer appears behind him, slightly out of breath, her cheeks pink from exertion. "I told you your father was showering!"
She lifts her brows as she notices my wet, towel-covered lower body.
A blush fires up on her cheeks, and for a moment, we're both frozen in an awkward tableau---me clutching a towel around my waist, Jennifer standing in my bathroom doorway looking mortified, and Henry bouncing between us with a crumpled piece of paper.
"Out," I command, jabbing a finger toward the door while keeping one hand firmly on my towel. "Both of you. Now."
Henry's face falls. "But Daddy, my dinosaur---"
"Show me when I'm dressed." I struggle to keep my voice gentle. "Give me two minutes, all right?"
Jennifer mouths to me, "I'm sorry." Then she grabs Henry's shoulders, steering him toward the door. "Come on, sweetheart. Your daddy needs privacy."
But as she turns to leave, her gaze drops briefly to my chest, lingering on the water droplets trailing down my torso.
Her lips part slightly, and I watch her throat work as she swallows hard.
The moment stretches out between us, charged with the same electricity from our kiss earlier.
Even with Henry chattering beside her, even in this ridiculous situation, I experience that same pull as if a large magnet draws us together.
Then she blinks, clearly embarrassed, and rushes Henry out of the bathroom. The door closes with a soft click, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and cooling water.
I finish my shower quickly, scrubbing away the remnants of my workday along with my inappropriate thoughts about the new nanny---my employee.
When I step out of the shower stall, I wrap the towel securely around my waist and peer at my reflection in the mirror.
I look exhausted. It's the sort of weariness that comes from years of solo parenting and never-ending responsibilities.
"Pull yourself together," I mutter to my reflection. "She's the nanny, not a potential girlfriend."
After dressing in jeans and a clean t-shirt, I head downstairs to find Jennifer sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with Henry, admiring his dinosaur artwork.
Charlotte is nearby, actually reading a book instead of explaining her favorite soccer moves.
Joshua is nowhere to be seen, probably tinkering with something mechanical in the room he shares with Henry.
Amelia has transformed the dining room table into an art studio, surrounded by colored pencils and what looks like a half-finished drawing of a mermaid.
"Dad!" Henry jumps up when he spots me, waving his dinosaur picture frantically. "Look! It's a T-Rex eating Mrs. Pinkerton's cat because it keeps pooping in our sandbox!"
I crouch to examine the surprisingly detailed drawing. "That's quite creative, Henry. Though perhaps we shouldn't show this particular masterpiece to Mrs. Pinkerton."
"But her cat is a sandbox pooper," Henry insists, deadly serious. "Somebody should tell her."
Jennifer stifles a laugh, her eyes meeting mine over Henry's head. "I suggested maybe the dinosaur could scare the cat away instead of eating it, but Henry feels strongly about artistic integrity."
"Naturally," I agree. "Eight-year-olds are very serious about drawings of dinosaurs."
Jennifer grins at me, and the way the afternoon light streams through the window catches the gold flecks in her green eyes. "He's quite passionate about his art."
"I can see that." I ruffle Henry's hair, trying to ignore how domestic this scene seems---me coming home to find Jennifer seamlessly integrated into my family's chaos. "Why don't you show Jennifer your other drawings while I check on Joshua and the girls?"
Henry nods eagerly and scampers off to retrieve his art collection. As he disappears upstairs, Jennifer rises gracefully from the floor, smoothing down her skirt.
"How was work?" she asks, her voice carrying that same warm tone that made me hire her this morning. Was it only this morning? Feels like a lifetime ago.
"Typical hotel crisis management," I inform her. "Mrs. Hartwell found fault with everything from the tablecloth angles to the temperature of the reception hall." I rake my fingers through my still-damp hair. "But enough about my day. How did things really go here?"
Jennifer smiles sweetly, genuinely, with no trace of the polite mask most nannies wear.
"They're wonderful children, Fletcher. Henry showed me his worm collection---all named after superheroes.
Charlotte explained why the HAARP arrays in Alaska are responsible for her inability to wash the dishes properly.
And Amelia gave me a detailed lecture on mermaid biology. "
"Sounds about right." I lean against the doorframe, studying her face while she talks. I sense genuine affection in her voice when she mentions my children. "What about Joshua?"
"Ah, Joshua." Her expression grows thoughtful. "He's protective. Suspicious. Asked me three times if I'm really planning to stay." Jennifer pauses. "I can see why. He's carrying a lot of responsibility for someone his age."
Her observation hits me square in the chest. But I can't think about that right now. I want to see what children have been up to while I was in the shower. When the house is too quiet, I start to worry. Having clever children can be a blessing and a curse, but I would never want them to change.
I walk into the hall, waving for Jennifer to follow me. The house is quiet now. Too quiet. I've been a father long enough to know that silence usually means trouble.
"Joshua?" I call out, heading toward the stairs. "What are you up to, mate?"
No answer. My parental radar starts pinging.
Jennifer follows close behind me, both our footsteps light on the hardwood floor. I try my best to avoid focusing on her lush hips rather than the curve of her lips or the way her skirt hugs her hips.
"Is this normal?" she whispers. "The silence?"
"About as normal as a peaceful night at the zoo." I shout again, louder this time. "Joshua!"
Finally, his voice drifts down from upstairs. "In my room, Dad!"
I take the stairs two at a time with Jennifer right behind me. I hesitate at Joshua's door, which is slightly ajar. A strange mechanical whirring sound comes from inside, along with the unmistakable smell of burning plastic.
"Joshua?" I push the door open to find my thirteen-year-old son hunched over his desk, safety goggles perched on his nose, wielding what appears to be my electric toothbrush attached to... "is that my electric razor?"
"Hi, Dad!" he says cheerfully, not looking up from his contraption. "I'm making a mini-hovercraft. Almost got it working."
What the bloody hell has Josh done this time?