Page 8 of The Night Nanny

Then, suddenly without warning, she’s running beside me. I turn my head slightly and her eyes lock with mine. There’s a bright, sunny smile on her face.

“See ya!” With that, she charges ahead at lightning-fast speed.

What?! I’m shellshocked. How can she run that fast, I wonder, as my eyes stay glued to her long, lean muscular legs. Her platinum ponytail flaps so rapidly it’s almost a blur.

My chest and legs on fire, I watch as she reaches the Chateau first. At least a hundred feet ahead of me. She plants a hand on the stucco wall surrounding the hotel and spins around. With her free hand, she triumphantly punches the air, then waves at me with a flutter of her fingers.

“What took you so long?” she asks when I finally meet up.

I’m too out of breath to reply. Sweat pours from my forehead as I hunch over and hug my burning thighs.

“Jeez,” I finally breathe out, my heart still pounding. “You’re fast.” She’s not even panting and only a few beads of sweat glisten on her flesh, like tiny crystals. She’s so bright and beautiful she glows.

She licks her upper lip. “I like to win.”

I like a woman with fire and determination. Who challenges me. That’s partly why I married Ava. We used to run together, too.

Before I can say another word, my companion’s cell phone rings. She slides it out from the side pocket of her leggings and glances at the caller ID with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I have to take this call.” She hits answer.

“No problem.” Catching my breath, I stretch my calves against the wall and eavesdrop on her conversation.

“Yes… wonderful… I’d love to… Seven tonight is perfect.”

She ends the call. Curiosity gets the better of me.

“A hot date?” I ask, recovering from the laborious run.

“Yeah.”

Jealousy brews inside me despite her being no one to me. And the fact I’m married. My ego deflates like a dying balloon.

There’s an awkward wedge of silence between us as she fixes her ponytail, letting her lustrous hair fall over her shoulders before gathering it up again in an elastic band. Fighting the urge to brush away a loose strand, I tell her I have to go.

“Wait,” she breathes out. “Actually, it’s not a date. I just wanted to razz you.”

Razz. This stunning woman not only looks like my mother, but just used her favorite word. I loved how Maman used to pronounce it with her French accent and roll the “r” in her throat. She sounded like a cat purring.

I stop dead in my tracks as my companion continues. “I just took on a new client.”

Relief washes over me. “Good for you!”

She glances down at her watch again. “Hey, I’ve got to get on my way.”

“I enjoyed running with you,” I say. “Will I see you again?”

“Perhaps.”

Leaving me bereft, she takes off like the wind before we exchange names.

FOUR

AVA

An hour later, Ned comes back from his run with his T-shirt drenched but in a much better mood.

“Good run?” I ask.