Page 35 of Nine Week Nanny

And then the footsteps echo down the hall. My pulse kicks hard, and I straighten in my chair.

He steps in with the click of his shoes on the wood floors. He's all crisp lines and quiet authority and absolutely stunning. Fuck me.

His charcoal suit is tailored so perfectly, it's like it was molded to him. Fresh shave and his dark hair is combed so neatly it dares me to touch it.

There isn't a trace of the man who’d once whispered filthy promises against my skin.

My entire insides climb into my throat, which I try to clear away to speak.

He beats me to it. “Ms. Brennan. I trust you’re settling in?”

Neither of us knew the other's last name that night. Now, that is how we address each other.

“Yes. Thank you.” I keep my hands flat against my thighs, resisting the urge to fidget. “The room is lovely.”

He nods once and sets a leather portfolio on the island between us. “Camila pulled this together. It's a schedule for Lennon. She also sent over the homeschool forms. She said it might be best to keep him here for now, at least until things settle down.”

I blink, surprised. “Homeschool?”

He flips the folder toward me, displaying a packet of forms clipped neatly inside. “Apparently, you just need to fill in your information and send it in. She’s already handled most of it.”

I glance at the packet, already half-completed in neat handwriting. Camila’s clearly calling the shots here and is more than just the aunt sitting in on the nanny interview.

“Okay,” I say more as a placeholder while I get a grasp on this. No one said anything about homeschooling.

“She thought a stable routine here would be better than moving him into a new classroom for a few weeks.”

I scan the paperwork. It’s simple enough: name, address, educational background. The thought of guiding Lennon’s day from breakfast to bedtime makes the job feel even bigger.

"My office is five minutes away." His tone is all boardroom efficiency. "The agency requires you to keep it to forty hours a week. The agency is interviewing for a weekend and afternoon nanny. In the meantime, I’ve blocked off windows when I can be here with him so you can take your time off. I’ll need you to work out the actual schedule within that framework."

I nod, glancing down at the page. “So I don’t work on weekends?"

“Correct.” His eyes stay on the schedule, not me, like this is just another transaction.

"What about dinner?" I ask, keeping my voice even despite the electricity humming between us. "Any allergies or preferences?"

"No allergies. He seems to like pasta and Cuban food." A muscle in his jaw tightens. "The housekeeper stocks essentials twice weekly, and, like I mentioned the other day, I have a meal delivery service set up.”

“Bedtime routines? Comfort items? Any stories he likes?"

There’s the faintest hesitation before he says, "I'm hoping you can help establish that."

His phone rings. He glances at the screen, then back at me. "I need to take this. Lennon should be up soon."

He disappears down the hall, his deep voice low into the phone. I'm left with a neat schedule, the trace of his cologne, and the memory of a man who once had me pinned beneath him.

He definitely isn't the man who pulled me into the shadows and made the hours disappear.

This version is polished, distant. Safe.

I can’t decide if that’s a relief or a loss.

TEN

Pope

I wrench myself out of bed at 5:35 AM, a full hour before my usual time. The house is still wrapped in pre-dawn quiet, the only sounds coming from the distant crash of waves against the beach.