Employee Relations
By Wynter Daniels
Copyright 2011 Wynter Daniels
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
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Miami Beach, New Year’s Eve, 2000
When the clock on the mantle struck twelve, fourteen-year-old Scarlet Eldridge's blood ran cold. The time wasn't midnight or noon, but eleven-twenty, forty minutes before the new millennium. Someone close to her would die tonight.
“Want another slice of pizza?” her older sister called from the kitchen. “Scarlet?” Layla appeared in the doorway. “What's wrong with you?”
Words refused to come. Scarlet closed her hand around her neck, paralyzed with dread. Rain pelted the windows and a clap of thunder made her shudder.
“You're pale as a ghost.” Layla rushed to her. “What's the matter?”
“The clock,” she managed. “It chimed.”
Layla stared toward the mantle. “Couldn't have. It's been broken since before we were born. Mama said it hasn't worked since her granny passed away, like twenty years ago.” She grasped Scarlet's shoulders and gently shook her. “You're scaring me. What's going on?”
Layla wouldn't believe her, would probably make fun of her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that terrible news was imminent. “When a clock that hasn’t been working suddenly chimes, there's going to be a death in the family.” Acid burned the back of her throat.
Layla's face tightened into a scowl and she lifted her hands in the air. “You and Mom are driving me nuts with those silly superstitions. I swear, Scarlet, you scared me to death.”
“Oh, God.” All the air sucked out of her lungs when she noticed the gold chain around Layla's wrist. “Why are you wearing Mama's lucky bracelet?” She shook uncontrollably, fearing for their mother's life.
“Calm down. She loaned it to me yesterday.”
“But she's completely unprotected.” Her voice rose to a screechy pitch. She forced herself to focus on their parents’ plans for the evening. A party at a friend's place, her mother had told her. Only a few miles from home. “What if something happens?” She shut her eyes, silently praying for their safe return.
“Nothing's going to happen. I don’t want to hear about creepy stuff anymore. Bad enough that Mama never shuts up about dumb superstitions, now I have to listen to you, too?” She started back to the kitchen.
The sound of a car engine in the driveway eased Scarlet's fears. They were home safe. Thank God.
But when she yanked open the front door expecting to see them, a soaking wet state trooper ran up the walk instead. Stars swam before Scarlet's eyes and her world slipped off its axis.
Ten years later
Scarlet’s cranky mood lifted a little when she saw Keith’s car in front of their apartment. Had he taken the night off from the restaurant? She quickened her steps, anxious to cry on his shoulder after her tough day.
She slipped her key into the lock and pushed open the door. The room was quiet as a secret and all the lights were off. Maybe he was in the basement doing their laundry. She fingered the gold acorn she wore around her neck.
Dropping her purse on the long counter, she headed for the bedroom to change. Working with preschoolers all day had left her caked in green finger paint and something sticky she couldn’t identify.
As she entered the bedroom, a soft rustle pulled her attention to the unmade bed. Her heart leapt to her throat.
“Hey, babe.” Keith sat in the middle of the bed, halfway under the covers. “What are you doing home so early?”
“Jeez. You scared the hell out of me.” She toed off her shoes. How would she break the news to him? They were barely making it with both incomes. What if it took a while for her to find another job? Her pulse quickened. “I need to talk to you, after I change out of these clothes.” She set her hand on the closet doorknob.
“No!” Keith threw back the covers. “Come here.” He was completely naked. What was he doing still in bed in the middle of the afternoon, anyway?
She narrowed her gaze at him.
“You look stressed.” He patted the mattress. “Let me rub your back.” Code for sex in Keith’s book.
Maybe she should delay spilling the news until after he’d gotten off and all those feel-good hormones had done their thing. She stripped off her t-shirt, wriggled out of her shorts and dropped them into the hamper.
“Now you’re talking.” Keith’s gaze raked over her body and a lusty grin lifted his lips.
She tried to scare up a spark of desire, but in truth she was too upset about losing her job. That awful Mrs. Higgins had it out for her since Scarlet’s first day.
Keith stood up and closed the distance between them. Wrapping strong arms around her waist, he pulled her against him and gave her a deep, tasting kiss.
Automatically, her nipples hardened and strained against the fabric of her bra. She shut her eyes and skimmed her hands along his back. What would she do without him?
He took her hand and led her to the bed. Before she got in, she took off her panties and bra. Lying on her back, she crooked a finger at him.
“Don’t you want me to massage your back?”
She couldn’t stifle a laugh. “Come on. I know what you mean when you offer me a backrub.” Instead of waiting for him to drop the game, she got on her knees and closed her fist around his cock.
He drew an appreciative gasp. His cock hardened under her touch. “No, don’t.”
No, don’t?
She’d never known him to play coy before, but he was always coming up with new games. She lowered her mouth to his erection and licked off the drop of seed that had collected at the slit.
His low moan assured her she was on the right track. Cupping his balls, she licked the underside of his shaft. He took a step closer, giving her easier access. She flicked her tongue over his balls, felt him grow even harder.
“That feels so good.” Threading his fingers through her hair, he moved her head slightly so the crown of his cock pushed against her lips.
Heat bloomed inside her. She craved his touch. Her pussy ached for attention and her intimate juices pooled between her legs. She took his length into her mouth, swirled her tongue around it as she grasped the base tighter.
“Oh, God, Scarlet, yes.” He thrust deeper into her mouth.
But she wanted more than to give him head. She recalled just a few days ago how he’d gotten “too into it,” as he’d explained later. She’d given him a blowjob and he’d reciprocated with a kiss. This time she had to take more. Her wounds needed licking, and so did her other parts.
She took his cock out of her mouth and closed her hand around it. Easing herself down onto her back, she waited as Keith climbed over her.
He grabbed a foil packet from the night table.
When did he take a condom out of the drawer? She shook off the question and slid her hand over his hard-on, pumping her fist over it. She let go when Keith had the condom ready to put on.
He rolled it over his shaft, then climbed between her legs. “Ready for me to fuck you?”
A little foreplay would have been nice, but it was okay. “Mm hmm.”
He spread her legs apart, pushed a finger inside her, testing her readiness. She wanted him to look at her face when he slid his cock inside her, but his gaze wandered toward the mirror on the bathroom door. So he liked watching himself when they had sex. Lots of guys probably did.
He pumped into her harder. She wished he’d touch her breasts, do anything that would assure her he wanted her here, and not just a hole to screw.
But Keith loved her. She knew he did. Veins protruded on his neck. He was close to coming already. And he’d want to know that she’d had an orgasm as well.
Grasping a handful of sheet in her fists, she forced a moan. Her fingers touched something foreign. Definitely not the rough, one hundred thread count sheets Keith had given her for her birthday. She closed her hand around something silky and turned her head to see what it was.
Fear and disgust rallied in her gut when she held up a red silk bra.
Another woman’s bra.
“Yes, yes, yeeeesssss.” Keith stroked into her hard, then jerked twice and collapsed on top of her, panting.
This couldn’t be happening.
Her chest tightened and tears welled in her eyes.
I can’t lose my job and discover my boyfriend is a cheater on the same day!
She shoved Keith off of her and held the bra in front of his face. “Whose is this?”
He covered his eyes, started shaking his head.
“Whose?” She struggled to get a breath in. Shooting off the bed, she scanned the room. She marched across the room to the closet and yanked open the door. Instead of her clothes, she found a naked white woman, arms crossed over her huge breasts.
“I’m sorry, Scarlet.”
Recognition hit her like a speeding truck, knocking her back. Her best friend, Holly stood there wearing nothing but the red panties that matched the bra she’d found on her bed.
It was all too much. Her lover, her best friend, her job. Humiliation flooded her veins, made her teeter with nausea. She wanted to crumble to the floor and curl up into a ball, but she couldn’t. She refused to let them see what they’d done to her.
An hour later she threw three black trash bags loaded with all her worldly possessions into the back of her sister’s Honda. “I don’t want to talk about it yet,” she told Layla as she climbed into the passenger seat. She snapped the seatbelt and watched the apartment building fade into the distance as they drove away.
*****
Ethan Chandler's jaw dropped.
“Did you hear me?” Carmela asked over the phone. “I can’t deal with her anymore. She's…she's in the way.”
He'd finally see the child he'd spent years searching for. Ashley was coming home to him. He steeled himself against the rush of emotion. Relief, anger and hope.
Carmela had disappeared off the radar with his child twelve years ago. No phone call to tell him Ashley was alive, nothing in all those years. She knew how devoted he was to that child, how much he loved her.
“So you're throwing Ashley away now that she's giving you problems? Now that you've decided to shack up with a man who foolishly believes he wants his own children with you? Since you’ve shown yourself to be such a devoted mother and all.”
Carmela hadn’t changed in a dozen years. “My decision has nothing to do with Stephano.” Her guilty tone told him otherwise. “She's your child too, Ethan. High time you dealt with her. And her name is Antonia now. Toni for short.”
Antonia? No wonder he'd had no luck finding her. He'd been looking for a girl named Ashley in the states, not Antonia in Italy. “I'd have loved to have seen her, heard from her sometime in the last twelve years. We had an agreement—a legal arrangement—for us to share custody.” Did she even care that she'd ripped his heart out when she ran off with his baby? Or consider the damage to the child by suddenly yanking her father out of her life? Of course not. Carmela never thought about anyone but herself.
“I didn't like your agreement. She was better off with my family near. You had no one to nurture her, to pinch her cheeks and tell her how wonderful she is. You don’t even know where your own mother is.”
His blood boiled. “I nurtured Ashley. I loved her and told how wonderful she was. Until you disobeyed a court order and stole her.” All the years of frustration and emotional agony, the thousands upon thousands of dollars he'd spent on private investigators and lawyers, trying to find them. “And now she's coming here, to a father she probably can't remember.”
“I told her you were dead.”
The sucker punch knocked the air from his lungs. He gasped for a breath, tried to remain calm. “That I was dead?” Poor kid grew up without a father, just as he had. Carmela knew how strongly he felt about being a part of Ashley's life.
Anger heated his blood. He wished he could reach through the phone and strangle her. “And now what? I've miraculously been resurrected?”
“Same old sarcastic Ethan.” Her shrill laugh sent chills up his spine. “She thinks you're her uncle.”
“Her uncle?” After not speaking to her for more than a decade, somehow she still had the power to enrage him like no one else. He drew a steadying breath, prayed for the wherewithal to get through this gut-wrenching conversation.
“I could hardly tell her I'd fibbed all these years.”
“No, of course not.” He shook his head, amazed at the woman's gall. “You've left that task to me.”
“Not necessarily. Nothing says you have to reveal who you really are.”
Unbelievable. “So I should perpetuate your lies?” He tried to recall what he'd ever seen in Carmela, other than her dark, exotic features, long, shiny black hair and perfect breasts with nipples like rubies. She had the most talented muscles he’d ever experienced, muscles that clenched around his erection and milked him bone-dry. He’d loved her, laid himself bare and she’d ripped his heart out. He’d have done anything for her back then. What a lovesick idiot he’d been.
Never again.
His jaw tightened as he tried to purge the memory. “I won’t lie for you. Sounds like Ashley's had enough dishonesty in the last twelve years.”
“Same stick-in-the-mud as always.” She sighed. “I have a life to live, Ethan. And honestly, Toni has grown into a spoiled, selfish girl.”
“I wonder how that happened.” Stabbing pains behind his eyes intensified. Carmela had always brought out the worst in him.
“Now, now. Be nice. Her plane lands in Miami at three-fifty, your time. I just checked on the website and it’s right on schedule. You'll have to show a picture ID to claim her.”
“Sounds like a piece of cargo.” He grasped the phone so tightly he feared he might crush it.
“Not a nice way to speak of your flesh and blood, darling.”
“Go to hell.” He glanced at the calendar on his desk. Two meetings tomorrow would have to be rescheduled, but the business trip next week couldn't be.
“Is that a way to speak to the mother of your daughter?”
“You’re right. Fuck you, Carmela.”
Click.
“Carmela?” He listened and waited, still in shock.
Silence.
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. She hadn't even told him the girl's flight number, the airline. Alitalia, he'd bet. He slammed the phone onto the cradle.
How could this be happening? Finally, he'd be reunited with the child he'd spent years searching for, yet he knew he was totally unprepared. And his daughter thought he was her uncle, no less. His chest tightened as if he wore a compression suit, squeezing, choking the life out of him. Ashley didn't even know he existed. God only knew what lies Carmela had told her, what damage she'd inflicted.
Turning to his computer, he logged on and searched today's incoming flights. Sure enough, there was an Alitalia flight arriving in Miami from Rome at three-fifty. His gut twisted into knots. He didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or furious.
He was going to see his little girl—today! Glancing toward the corner of his desk at the framed photo of Ashley at two years old, he swallowed back a golf ball sized lump. He scrubbed his hands over his face then grabbed his jacket as he raced out the door.
“Where you off to, Boss Man?” Patti asked as he hurried past the reception counter.
“Airport. I'll fill you in later.” Pushing through the glass doors, he broke into a run in the parking lot, ignoring the burn of the stifling midday summer heat. He checked the clock on the Porsche's dash, thankful for all the muscle the sports car had under its hood. Something rolled across the passenger seat when he turned a corner. Grabbing the small silver tube, he held it closer to his eyes. Lipstick. Must have fallen out of his date's purse last night. He tried to recall her name, but it was just out of reach.
Didn't matter. He'd made his intentions clear before they'd had sex. No strings. No spending the night. He'd never lay his heart on the chopping block again. Carmela had cured him of that.
He made it to the airport in nineteen minutes, then spent nearly that long searching for a place to park. Inside the terminal, the queue at security snaked around endless rope lines.
When he finally arrived at the customer service desk to claim Ashley, his heart pounded a mile a minute. He wondered if that were more from exertion or sheer panic. What would his daughter think of him? Would she resent that he hadn't been there for her all those years? Did they have anything in common besides DNA?
After showing his identification and explaining the situation, a clerk handed him a pass. He arrived at the gate as the first group of passengers disembarked.
He searched the crowd for a fourteen-year-old who resembled the toddler he'd last seen more than a decade earlier. Was her hair still sandy brown, like his? Or had the color grown closer to her mother's jet-black?
What if Ashley didn't like him? Should he spring his true identity on her right away or wait until later—or maybe even a few days or week from now?
A teenager passed, ear buds attached to her head, hazel eyes darting around the area. She removed the earphones and nodded to the woman walking astride her.
Could it be? He tried to remember his daughter's eyes, a striking shade of blue-green, like the waters of the Caribbean. Certainly they could have changed a little in all these years. He took a tentative step toward her, tried to get a better look at her face. Then he heard her speak. She was obviously American through and through. No hint of an Italian accent. He dropped back, continued scouting the line of passengers.
A teen emerged from the walkway with fuchsia and black spiked hair, an earring through her eyebrow and an outfit that looked as if she'd pulled it out of a rag box—an oversized T-shirt gathered at her hip with a rubber band, faded, ripped jean shorts with torn fishnet stockings and high-heeled ankle boots. Thankfully, the girl looked too old to be his. She fingered a cigarette tucked behind one ear. Or was it joint?
Nah. Not in public like that.
What kind of parent allowed a teenager to parade around that way?
A uniformed flight attendant holding a clipboard led the scary looking girl to a nearby counter. The teen's gaze darted around the terminal. Ethan cringed at the heavy black eyeliner and bright purple lip gloss. Had she looked in a mirror recently?
Returning his attention to the line of passengers, he narrowed his gaze when he realized the exodus had slowed to a trickle: an elderly woman with a walker, a man in a wheelchair pushed by a male attendant.
Where the hell was Ashley? When no one else came through the ramp, he headed to the desk. The juvenile delinquent girl gave him a once-over, then a snotty sneer.
The flight attendant flashed him toothy grin. “May I help you?” Her smile widened. “With anything?”
Good. She was American. The last thing he needed now was a language barrier. “Yes.”
What was that smell? Like body odor? He twisted toward the teenager and sniffed. The stench grew stronger. Didn't she wear deodorant?
He fixed a smile on his face and returned his attention to the attendant. “I thought my d…niece would be on this flight. Can you check the manifest?”
“I'd be happy to, sir.” She adjusted her glasses, took a pen from her pocket and held it above the clipboard. “What's the name?”
“Ashley…er…Antonia—” God. What last name had Carmela given her? The child's birth certificate had his, but somehow, he knew Carmela would have changed the document.
The woman's perfectly arched eyebrows drew closer together. “Ashley Antonia?”
He bristled. “No.” On top of everything else, he now looked like an idiot, thanks to Carmela.
“You're looking for me,” the girl beside him interjected. Her English was perfect, with a slight accent but the voice sent a chill over his skin. She sounded exactly like Carmela.
“What name then, sir?” the attendant asked.
His insides froze as he alternated his stare between the woman and the teen.
Please, no. Don't let this…this misfit be my precious Ashley.
“You don't recognize your own niece?” The flight attendant's glasses slid down her nose and the flirtation evaporated from her demeanor like rain on hot asphalt.
“I haven't seen her for twelve years,” he explained.
The woman's lips flattened into a judgmental frown. “I'll need to see your identification.” Her tone had turned to ice.
He ventured a quick glance at the girl—his daughter—and sucked in a breath as he removed his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out his license. Fear clawed at the back of his throat. Where had his angelic little Ashley disappeared? This couldn't possibly be the energetic toddler with the most infectious laughter and the best hugs in the world.
Or could it?
He snuck another wary peek at her. Beneath the war paint he found those lovely turquoise eyes, the long, thick lashes, the tiny beauty mark on her right cheek. His heart clunked.
What had Carmela done to his baby? What on earth was he going to do with this…this creature? She'd need round the clock supervision. Supervision he couldn't possibly provide alone since he had a company to run.
He needed some help—right away.
Chapter Two
Swallowing hard, Scarlet glanced around the waiting area of Chandler Specialty Software, Inc. As a black woman, she felt completely out of place. Everything glowed white from the hard couch she sat upon to the high reception desk to the walls. Even the petite blonde seated behind the counter wore a starched white blouse.
She wondered why Mr. Chandler wanted to interview her here, rather than at his home. After all, whomever he hired would be living there and they'd definitely want to see the place, not to mention meet the kids.
Thankfully, no other applicants were there—yet. How many did she have to compete with? She was positive the listing had only been posted last night since she’d been searching the newspaper’s online help wanted section for the past week. Fingering the gold acorn that hung around her neck, she prayed for good luck.
She tugged at the hem of her skirt, unaccustomed to wearing anything but jeans or shorts. Good thing she was able to fit into Layla non-pregnant size. Her back ached from too many nights on Layla and Joe’s lumpy couch. With the baby arriving soon, Scarlet would have to move out. Just this morning she’d walked out of the bathroom and nearly crashed into her half-asleep, completely naked brother-in-law.
God, I need this job. It would not only replace the one she’d just lost, but it would also give her somewhere to live that didn’t involve infringing upon her sister’s privacy. Best of all, she wouldn’t have to drop out of college.
The double glass doors swung open and a tall man with light brown hair that barely grazed his shoulders breezed in. His confident stride left no doubt he was the boss. She sucked in a nervous breath and hoped he couldn't hear the banging of her heart against her ribcage.
Please don’t let this be the guy I'm interviewing with. Way too good looking.
He stopped at the coffee station and poured himself a cup. The cut of his expensive suit emphasized broad shoulders and a slim waist. The morning sun reflected in his emerald eyes. God, he was beautiful with a strong jaw, a cleft chin and prominent cheekbones. And no wedding band. Perfect, except for a slanted scar on his forehead. And he looked familiar.
Realization slapped her like a blast of frigid winter air.
Oh, no. He was the guy who'd nearly sideswiped Layla’s car a couple days ago in his hot little Porsche, the guy she’d flicked off. Her heart clunked.
Damn. She'd hoped she had a shot at this job. Too good to be true. Now what would she do? Dropping her shoulders, she wondered if she ought to leave now. Save them both the trouble. No way would he hire her when he remembered her. She sobered at the vision of her future going up in a puff of smoke.
I must get this job!
He gave her a cursory glance before stopping at the reception desk. She breathed in and savored the woodsy scent that followed him. Was it possible he didn't recognize her? He drove that sports car way too fast, probably paid little attention to anyone but himself. She knew the type. Just like that bastard, Keith. Didn’t matter. The job would kill several birds with one stone. She’d work for the devil if she had to.
He winked at the receptionist. “Morning, Patti. How's the new puppy doing?”
“Good morning. He ate one of my shoes yesterday, but we're learning to adjust to each other.” The woman gestured toward Scarlet. “Your first candidate's arrived.”
He met Scarlet's gaze and her insides melted into a puddle of molten estrogen. All the air was somehow sucked out of her lungs. Composing herself, she studied his expression, but saw no hint of recognition.
Thank goodness. But still, he was way too distracting. A distraction was the very last thing she needed now. Obviously, she couldn’t count upon her instincts when it came to men. She’d trusted Keith. Never again. She’d make sure not to put herself in a vulnerable position ever again.
He bowed his head closer to the receptionist, lowered his voice. Not so low Scarlet couldn’t hear, though. “What's her name?”
“Scarlet Eldridge.” Patti handed him a sheet of paper that might have been her résumé.
Straightening, he swept his gaze over Scarlet as if she were a head of cattle he contemplated for slaughter. Icy fingers of fear crawled over her skin, sending a shiver up her spine. Yeah, he was totally hot, but way too scary.
“Miss Eldridge,” he said coolly. “Would you come into my office?” His invitation sounded more like a death sentence. Maybe he'd recognized her after all.
Blood pounded in her ears. Why was she so nervous? It was only a job—a job my life depends upon. The most perfect job she'd ever come across. Praying her legs wouldn’t fail her, she stood, followed him down a short corridor to a respectably sized office. A huge picture window afforded a spectacular view of sailboats gliding regally along Biscayne Bay. The furniture followed the same white theme from the reception area, except for the desk, which was a rich mahogany—a man's desk.
She hoped he'd offer the intimate sitting area near the window, but he gestured to a chair opposite the desk as he set his coffee cup down and took a seat on the other side in a dark burgundy leather chair. She'd had enough psychology classes to know he wanted to appear authoritative behind that massive piece of furniture. No problem.
She sat in uncomfortable silence as he read her résumé, giving his head an occasional nod. No wedding band. How could a man that good looking be single? Maybe he was a workaholic. Or awful to be around, although for some reason, she doubted that.
Something struck her about his presence; his cool confidence seemed more than attitude. He exuded a quiet strength, a man who shouldn't be messed with, or else. She’d bet he left a trail of broken hearts wherever he went. With those sexy eyes, chiseled features and broad shoulders, women had to be falling at his feet.
A shiver rolled over her skin. She wondered why he needed a nanny. Was he divorced? Or widowed? Yes, that must be it. Why else would he have his children enough to require live-in care for them?
Her heart squeezed when she thought about his poor kids losing their mother. It had been so painful for her and she’d been nearly an adult when her parents passed away.
She glanced at a bronze plaque on the wall and tried to read the inscription. Something about sponsoring a Little League team. Beside it a framed certificate of appreciation for coaching said team. Okay, so the man had a heart. But he was still a lousy driver.
Finally he set the paper down and eyed her for a long moment.
Stomach fluttering, she concentrated on remaining calm and unruffled by his burning stare. If only her libido would take a hike, just for a while. Her nipples hardened to painful points. Could he see them through her white blouse? She folded her arms over her chest, just in case.
“You've had several jobs in the last few years, Miss Eldridge. Why is that?”
She squirmed, mentally practiced the answer she'd prepared. “Well, you see, um, Loving Care Daycare went out of business.” She held up her hands in surrender. “Which had nothing to do with the fact that I worked there at the time. Then, um, at Kids at Play, my manager and I didn’t see eye-to-eye about some of their policies.” Her heart pounded. Could she be screwing this up more?
He lifted a sexy eyebrow. “Elaborate on that, please.”
Damn. How am I supposed to concentrate when he’s staring at me with those eyes? “Okay, well, um—”
“Without the use of the words um and well.” He set his hands on the desk, laced his fingers together. His tanned skin and strong hands distracted her for several seconds. What would his touch feel like? A rush of heat surged between her legs. She wiggled to stop that tingly feeling.
Concentrate!
“Are you all right, Miss Eldridge?”
“Uh, yes. Fine. And call me Scarlet, please.” She couldn’t possibly tell him about the blowup she and the center’s director had. If her own sister hadn’t understood why she’d insisted on changing the curriculum and a few of the policies for her kids, why would anyone? But the center could have prepared the kids for kindergarten so much better if they’d only taken her advice. No, most people wouldn’t get that. They’d accuse her of being a control freak, as Layla had.
Her pulse raced. She had to get this job, had to make him see she wasn't the flake her work history implied. Sitting taller in the chair, she captured his gaze. “I love children, Mr. Chandler. My life's goal is to be a kindergarten teacher and that's what I'm studying to become. I've had a few stumbling blocks in my path like my parents' death in a car accident.” She hadn't meant for that to come out like an excuse, but didn’t want to stop to clarify. “I'm attending classes at the community college but it's been a slow road. I take one or two courses each semester, which I'm more than willing to adjust to fit your children's schedule.”
She leaned toward him and smelled another whiff of his cologne and more—pure man. “More than anything, Mr. Chandler, I want you to know I'll be the best damned nanny your kids could ever have. I'll be their friend, their teacher and I'll protect them as if they're my own.”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a grin for only a split second, then his expression returned to the stony, businesslike one he'd worn earlier. “Really.”
“Really.” She sat back, crossed her legs.
Confident, in control.
“To be perfectly honest, Mr. Chandler, I lost my last job because I wanted more for the kids there. I don’t believe in merely warehousing preschoolers.”
His eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Oh?”
“The center’s owner didn’t agree.” She hooked her fingers together to keep them from shaking. “Before that, I was let go from a daycare for suggesting to some parents that their children would be better served at another facility, one that would actually teach them something. In hindsight, most of it was my fault. I know it’s up to management to make those decisions. But I've learned a lot from my past mistakes.” God, he had a beautiful face; strong jaw line, a sexy mouth she'd love to…
“Like?”
She cleared her throat, prayed her voice wouldn’t falter. “Like you have to live with the rules your boss makes, even if those rules don’t match your vision. Like first and foremost, it always comes down to keeping the children safe. Like every child is different and each brings a unique set of needs to the table. I plan to spend my life trying to meet those needs, give every kid I come in contact with that special something they require to help them grow into their full potential.”
“Well spoken.” He eyed her for a long time, as if he were appraising an object d'art, deciding whether he should buy it. “The job,” he finally said, “pays six hundred a week plus room and board. Since I'm paying top dollar, I expect exemplary service. I need you immediately. My daughter's just arrived from Italy and needs lots of…prepping to fit in at an American school in the fall.”
She nodded. Did that mean he was hiring her, just like that? And only one kid? Piece of cake. “No problem. I can start today if that works.” She wanted to jump up and down, scream, “Hallelujah,” shout how happy she was.
He picked up the phone and pressed a button, his eyes never leaving hers. “You can cancel the other interviews, Patti. Thanks.” He hung up, wrote something on a paper and pushed it toward her. “Here's my address. Be there at seven this evening with your things. I'll be checking your references today so if there's anything you'd like to tell me, better make it now.”
Squaring her shoulders, she shook her head. “I have nothing to hide.” Except my attraction for you.
He tossed her a curt nod. “My daughter is fourteen. She's…a bit of a challenge.”
Fourteen? Why did he need a nanny for a teenager? And what did he mean by a challenge? No matter. She needed this job—desperately. “I can handle it, sir.”
But can I handle him?
She prayed she could.
*****
Ethan couldn't tear his eyes off Scarlet as he walked her to the door. Her rear end swayed gracefully under her black skirt and her legs…oh, those long, lovely legs, muscular and lean, gave her away as a woman who didn’t sit on her butt much. Shiny black hair pulled into a tight ponytail reflected the fluorescent lights in the hallway. Long, straight locks spilled over her back, making him want to plunge his fingers into the silky looking strands.
He folded his hands in front of him to hide the growing bulge in his pants. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, hiring a woman who'd turned him on the second he'd laid eyes on her.
She stopped and he nearly bumped into her, but thankfully caught himself at the last second.
“Tonight then.” She turned to him and placed a hand on the glass door, long fingers and sleek red nails he could easily imagine scraping along his back.
Shaking off the image, he cleared his throat. “Yes. Tonight.” He had a strict policy about not getting involved with women in his employ. Mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea.
He held the door open, watched her cross the parking lot, slide into the passenger seat of an older model Honda. Squinting, he tried to see the driver, but couldn't. A boyfriend, perhaps? The thought cut through him.
Ridiculous. He had no claim to her and never would. And why did she seem familiar? Maybe she had one of those faces. Calling that face to mind, that body, he felt his erection gain strength. What was wrong with him? He wasn't some teenager who got hard every time the wind blew.
She's an employee now. One he'd better not even think about sleeping with. Way too complicated. He'd learned his lesson years ago with Carmela. Much safer to stick with the nearly anonymous flings that had served his needs so well in recent years.
His mind drifted back fifteen years. Carmela had been hired as his assistant when he worked for a large technology firm. He'd resisted her flirtations for a while, pretended he didn’t catch the barely cloaked sexual innuendos in her conversation, ignored how she'd brush against him as she'd pass in the corridor. Until they'd worked late one night an accounting program, ironing out the bugs. They ordered Chinese takeout and she lamented how badly her last boyfriend had treated her during the break-up. Like a fool, he'd pitied her, believed that everything was the ex's fault. She was an innocent victim.
He wished he'd picked up on the red flags that night, put the brakes on before the affair even began. Only she was so sexy and his loneliness got the best of him. They made love that very evening on his desk, then back at his place.
She became an unquenchable thirst, a burning need he couldn't deny. They made love constantly, everywhere. She rode him in the back seat of her car in a parking lot outside a restaurant in the middle of the day. He took her up against a building in an alleyway behind a nightclub.
For three months they were inseparable. When she discovered her pregnancy, she disappeared for a week. He should have seen the writing on the wall then, known she'd take off with their child at some point.