She picks up and egg and pelts it at me, smashing it straight into my chest.
“No,” Sammy yells excitedly, and we both turn to him.
“Get him,” I say.
“Ohhhh!” Sammy squeals, but before he can run, Willow cracks an egg over his head. Then she picks up a handful of flour and throws it at me, and it sticks to the egg and covers the floor.
“That’s it,” I cry. “It’s war.” I pick up another egg and pull my arm back to hurl it at her.
Ding dong.
We all freeze on the spot and turn towards the sound of the doorbell. “Who’s that?” I whisper.
Sammy jumps down and runs to the window to look out. “Grandma!”
“What?”
“Grandma’s here.”
“Shit,” Willow cries.
“Oh no.” I bounce on the spot in a panic and the doorbell rings again right before the front door opens. Shit, we left it unlocked.
“Hello?” Their grandma calls.
The three of us go into overdrive as we quickly try to wipe up the flour from the floor, but Grandma appears before we can dispose of the evidence.
Her face falls as she walks into the room.
“Why…?” Her voice trails off as she looks around. “What on earth is going on here?”
I look around at the mess. “We’re cooking.” I wince.
She’s a very stylish and attractive woman, in her late fifties or early sixties at the most. She’s wearing a tight black woolen dress, and in low black heels. Her hair is styled in a perfect blonde bob, and she is wearing a coral color lipstick to compliment her outfit.
She has money. It’s blatantly obvious.
The shock on her face is priceless, and I bite my bottom lip nervously. “I’m Brielle,” I tell her with a smile. I put my hand out but realize it’s covered in flour and dough. “I would shake your hand, but…” I show her my palm.
“I’m Frances.” She frowns, and then turns her attention to the children. “Hello, dears. I thought I would come and check on you, what with your father being away.”
The children both smile cheekily.
She looks around and picks a piece of eggshell out of Sammy’s hair.
Oh hell, what must this look like? We all have eggs smashed over our heads and chests, and I am completely white-faced from the flour.
“This is most unexpected,” she mutters, almost to herself.
“We’re cooking,” Willow offers as an excuse. “And….” She pauses as she tries to think of a reason. “The eggs slipped out of our hands.”
“Slippery little suckers,” Sammy adds.
I laugh because that story is just ridiculous. “I’m sorry, but you’ve caught us in the middle of a good old fashioned food fight.”
Frances smiles awkwardly. “So I see.” She looks me up and down. “So, you’re Miss Brielle?”
“Yes.” I smile as I dust some flour from my shirt. “Nice to meet you.”
Her eyes dance with delight. “Julian said you were very different. Now I see why.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Oh, kids, haven’t I had a dreadful first week? I’ve made every mistake possible.”
The kids both nod with enthusiasm.
“She even ran Dad over in a golf cart,” Sammy blurts out.
“Dear, God.” She puts her hand to her chest. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Willow answers. “He sulked all night over it.”
Frances laughs, and I get the feeling that I’m going to like this woman.
“We’re practicing making fresh pasta so that Willow can cook dinner for her father on Sunday night,” I say.
“Really?” She looks between the two of us, impressed.
“You should come over,” I say. “The more the merrier. Willow is a fantastic cook.”
“I haven’t cooked anything yet,” Willow interrupts.
“I know, but you’re going to be a fantastic cook when I finish with you.”
Frances beams. “Thank you for the invitation. I’d be delighted.”
She looks back at the door. “Don’t let me hold up your fun. I’ll get going.”
We all follow her and she turns back. “What time is dinner on Sunday night, Will?”
Willow looks to me for guidance.
“What time, pumpkin?” I whisper. “You pick.”
“About six?” Willow shrugs.
Frances smiles and rubs her arm. “Lovely, see you at six, darling.” She walks out the door and calls over her shoulder. “Have fun. I wouldn’t want to be the one cleaning that floor.”
We all scowl at the thought of having to do it ourselves.
“Let’s just clean up first and we can start again.” I sigh.
With a roll of their eyes, they both follow me back to the battle zone.
This place is trashed.
It’s now 11:00 p. m. and I’m back in bed, reading. The room is dark, lit only by my bedside lamp. I didn’t hear from Mr. Masters today but I know he called the children. I heard him on the phone to Willow earlier. Part of me is a little disappointed he didn’t call me. God knows why. I blow out a deep breath and shuffle around on the bed, annoyed at myself.
I turn the page a little too aggressively and continue reading.
My phone dances across my side table, the name Mr. Masters lighting up the screen.
My heart instantly races.
It’s him.
Act casual, I remind myself.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Bree,” he purrs.
Bree, holy shit!
This is a personal call.
I bite back my smile. “Hi.”
It sounds like he’s in a bar or something; there’s lots of background noise.
“So…I hear you met my mother.”
God, she called him.
“Yes.” I scrunch my eyes shut. “She seems nice.” I wince. Hell.
He stays silent.
“What did she say about me?” I ask.
He hesitates for a moment. “Let’s just say that you have added another member to your ever growing fan club.”
I smile goofily. Another? Does that mean he’s in that club, too? “Is everything all right?” I ask. “Did you call to check on the children?”
He chuckles, and I can tell he’s been drinking. “I called to check on my naughty nanny.”
My stomach flips at the tone of his voice. “Your nanny is well.” I frown. “Although from the tone of your voice I have no idea if you are being facetious or salacious,” I whisper.
He laughs a deep belly laugh and I feel it heat my blood as the sound rolls over me.
I smile.
“Let’s just say it’s a lot of one and a little of the other.” He replies.
Trust him to give me a conundrum for an answer.
“How well?” he asks sexily. “How well is my nanny?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “As well as can be expected when the man of the house is away.”
He inhales sharply, I hear it catching in his throat. What the hell am I doing? This is a dangerous game I’m playing.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“At a bar.”
“Who with?”
“Not you.”
My heart stops. What the actual fuck is going on here?
“Are you flirting with me, Julian?” I smirk.
“Would it bother you if I was?” My heart begins to hammer, and the background noise begins to fade, as if he’s moved somewhere quieter. “No, it wouldn’t.” I pause for a moment. “Just the opposite, actually.”
I can almost see his smile on the other end of the phone. “I wish we didn’t meet under the circumstances we did?”
“Why?” I whisper.”
“Because I’m attracted to you,” he breathes roughly.
My heart is hammering hard, and I scrunch my eyes shut to focus on his breaths. Holy shit, is this happening?
“It’s a two-way street,” I confess.
“I’m not after a relationship,” he whispers through a heavy breath, and my sex clenches to the sound of his deep, commanding voice.
“Neither am I.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Some of that satisfaction you told me about.” I bite my bottom lip and cringe at myself. Did I just say that out loud?
He inhales sharply, neither one of us speaking for a moment or two.
“I can’t mix business and pleasure in my house,” he eventually says.
“If it doesn’t happen in this house, I’m not your employee. I’m just a woman.” I whisper. Okay, where did that come from? Who am I?
He hisses with approval, and I know he liked that answer.
“That’s something to think about,” he whispers.
God, I’m so fucking aroused by this man, it isn’t even funny.
“Are you in bed?”
“Yes.”
“Touch yourself.”
My eyes widen.
What the…?
“Put that pretty little hand in that beautiful cunt and tell me what you feel.”
Holy fuck. Holy, fucking fuck.
He’s dirty.
I slide my hand between my legs and swipe through my flesh. “I’m wet,” I breathe.
“Swollen?” I can hear the arousal in his voice.
“Yes,” I rasp.
“Fuck.”
This is insane, and so damn hot.
A commotion happens in the background and some men begin to talk loudly to him. “I’ve got to go,” he grinds out, clearly annoyed. “We will finish this conversation later.”
I nod, damn it. “Okay.”
“Goodnight, my naughty nanny.”
I smile, hang up, and stare blankly at the wall.
Did that just happen?
Sammy and I sit in the car as we wait for Willow to come out from her golf lessons. This seems to be the only activity that she really gets excited about attending. She even wore lip gloss today, and if my suspicions are right, the boy in the office might be in her sights.
I hope he is. He’s so cute.
She walks out with the girl and the boy from the office, and she stands and talks to them for a moment. I can’t help but smile as I watch them.
Willow is twirling her long hair between her fingers. I’m no body language expert, but even I can see that she’s interested.
How sweet? This is what she needs-a high school romance. She waves goodbye and bounds towards the car, slamming the door shut once she’s inside.
She grins over at me and my heart melts.
I put my hand on her thigh. “What a beautiful smile that is.”