Being His Nanny (A New Adult Romance): Part 1 (4 page)

“I’m…I’m sorry?”

“If only you could help me with that.”

With sex? My eyes went wide.

“My daughter likes you.”

“Oh…your daughter.”

“Why? What did you think I meant?”

I laughed a little. “Oh…nothing.” I quickly took a sip of wine, feeling relaxed. In my innocence I decided to ask, “What exactly do you need? Surely you have wealth and the resources to take care of every need.”

“And what makes you think I have wealth?”

“I don’t know.” I grew quiet. “It’s just…you’re the most wealthy man I think I’ve met before, and you said even if you were not born into wealth just moments ago.”

“Your innocence is refreshing. You’re like a little doe…beautiful, graceful, but like your learning how to walk.” His voice was kind, soft, and his eyes narrowed in on me.

“Yeah...I still feel like, young. Like a young woman. Not a WOM-AN.” I was rambling. I just said the stupidest thing ever!
Who says they don’t feel like a woman?

“The big city isn’t frightening to you?”

“No, I’m here with a friend.”

“Ah, and does this boyfriend of yours mind you are here under a gorgeous chandelier dressed in a dress that displays your body beautiful, drinking expensive wine with a practical stranger?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I smiled shyly. “I’m…I’m not here with a boy.”

“Well, splendid then.”

“Splendid then,” I repeated him, his accent and all.

“Are you mocking?”

“No, practicing my accent.”

“Eh.”

“Eh,” I repeated.

“Eh,” he corrected me once more.

“Splehndid.”

“Perfect.” He smiled back at me, studying me once more.

“So…tell me more about you. I know nothing about you except you’re exceptionally nervous, you have a nice, little sexy body and a terrible day job. Tell me more.”

              “You sound sarcastic…like you don’t really want to know.”

              “I want to know.” He frowned impatiently. “Tell me something about you. Tell me something…exposing.”

              “Exposing?” His choice of words, and the way he presented them, made me nervous.

              “Something no one else knows.”

              I laughed and looked around the room. He watched me the whole time. 

Sexy?

I’d never been called sexy before.
Was it this dress? This country? Was it because I’m a southern girl from America?
I don’t know why, but I liked it. It made me feel…powerful to be called sexy.
Tell me more…

Our server refilled our wine glasses while Jackson gave him our order for lunch.

              “I…” I smiled wider as I took a sip of more wine and looked around the room. I blushed and shifted awkwardly in my chair. “I…” I sounded like an actor fumbling for their lines. “I hid a bunny rabbit in my dad’s barn once.” After taking another long sip of wine from feeling so nervous, I decided not to say anything else.

              “That’s your darkest secret?”

              “Darkest?” I was surprised. “No…I don’t have any…I mean…dark…stuff.”

              “I guess not. What kind of car did you drive back home?”

              “A…Pontiac.”

              “That’s dark,” he said, somewhat snotty. I smiled after a minute and then we both laughed.

              “You are something else, Jackson Maxwell.” I smiled.

              “You’re adorable. I don’t want to take you home tonight,” he was insanely forthright. “I mean, not to
your
home.”

              “You can’t, unless you wanna go all the way to South Carolina!” I thought my joke was funny, and I cracked up, although all I got from Jackson was a little old smile.

              “I meant wherever you’re staying here,” he said, after my obnoxious laughter ceased.

              “And do what?”

“Coach you in English. Your dictation of course.”

Chapter Five

              “Here we are,” Jackson said. “The Conway.”

              “Yes.” I reached down for the soft silk ribbon handles of my bag from
Cristine’s
. My old dress and flats were in there. “I really had fun today.” I let him know I was grateful. “Thank you.”

              “My pleasure, Chelsea darling.” I loved when he called me darling.

              “I’ll walk you to your door.”

              My mouth dropped in a wide, open smile.
              “Oh…thanks…” The innocent gesture filled me with a giddy-tipsy appreciation.

              “You’ve made me happy. It’s been a while since I’ve had any female company that’s old enough to spell.”

              I laughed. “I had so much fun!”

              I looked back up at Jackson, his blue eyes gleaming. He reached out for a hug and wrapped his arms around me. He was so strong, and his hug was tight and protective. He kissed me on the side of my head before we drew from each other.

              “Are you coming by the café tomorrow?” I asked him as he walked over to the limo.

              “You will see me again,” he said. “If not tomorrow, then the next day.”

              I wanted his number. I wondered why he hadn’t asked for mine. I watched as he got back into the limo. Then it was just this long, dark mystery. I could no longer see him. The windows were up. The doors were shut. The limo slowly pulled away and I felt like Cinderalla. Did that really just happen?

It was 3pm, and I finally glanced at my phone.

“Where are you!?! Hello?!?!”

Oh, no. Poor Sky was probably worried sick.

I made it up to our room, and the room was empty. I tried to call her but it went straight to her voice mail.

I texted her everything was fine and that time got away with me. I was in our room, and I drifted off to sleep feeling very happy, proper, and pampered. I drifted off to sleep dreaming of Jackson Maxwell.

              “There you are! You scared the shit out of me, Chelsea! Whoa…and what are you wearing? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Huh?” I rolled over in my bed pulling the down comforter close to me, curling up, feeling disoriented. It was night and the bright lights she abruptly turned on stung my eyes.
What time was it? Was it morning? Did I miss my shift?
I sat up and gasped. “What time is it?”

“Where did you get that dress? You look amazing in it! Relax. It’s night time.”

“Huh? Oh, this thing?”

The room spun. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Did you…have you been drinking? Did you land a gig as a high-end escort?
Already
?”

“No…that’s funny though. I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“That is true. Come on, let’s have some tea. Have some cold water, too.”

I followed her into the living room. A fragrant candle was lit, and a fresh bouquet of peonies were happily perched in a white pitcher. Very rustic and lovely.  “These are pretty. Did you buy these today?”

“Yes. Among others. Nothing like fancy things from London. And this small apartment needed some femininity to it. Oh, I bought you a new pillowcase, too. It’s on the table.”

“You shouldn’t have!”

“Yes, I know. But I also
should
. It’s satin, and it’s dainty and feminine, and you deserve a bit of luxury in your life. But now that I see you in that fancy dress, pray tell, dear friend. Who’d you meet today?”

“What time is it anyway? I’m so confused.”

She pointed to the digital clock but it was military time. 20:30

“I don’t have the brain power to figure that out.”

“It’s 8:30pm. 2:30am in America. Thirteen hours until our extensive begins. So, the dress? The shoes?” she said in excitement.

She handed me a mug of hot tea and poured me a glass of lemon water. I drank the icy beverage in four quick gulps. It was so refreshing.

“I met this man. Well, this dad whose daughter spilled a hot chocolate on my dress this morning at work. Well, he felt bad and then…well, I saw him again later in the day and he picked me up because he said I was going the wrong way, in the direction of a bad part of town. Oh, he picked me up in his limo.”

“His what?”

“Yeah…well, he was going to lunch and invited me. Well, hence the dress and shoes.”

“Did he ask you for sex?”

“No! Gosh! Not all men are like that.”

“Honey, yes they are. So is he your new sugar daddy?”

“No! Just a dad.”

“An old dad?”

“Actually…a hot dad.”

“A hot old dad?”

“A hot young dad. Twenty-seven.”

“What?! And he’s wealthy? Why on earth did you not get his number?”

“I don’t know. It all was happening so fast. And we went to this amazing restaurant. He ordered for me; we had wine. I had champagne. It was like a whole different world. It felt…fresh. Rich.”

“Well, if I didn’t see your dress and shoes, I maybe would have thought you made this all up. But I do believe you. You’re one lucky beauty. But a dumb one. Next time, sweetie. Make sure you get his number or at least give him yours. That way you’ll for sure see him again.”

“Well, he did say he would see me again. If not tomorrow, the next day.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh…that’s what he had said. He would see me again. See. I’m not dumb.” I winked at her. “I’m chaaaaaaaaahming.” I drew out my southern accent.

“That my dear, you are.”

After we watched a movie and ate a light dinner, the two of us called it a night. She called Brad, and I did a bit of reading to fall asleep. But truth be told, I was excited about my first day at the acting extensive. And I was exciting about seeing
him
again. But when would that be?

The hours passed by, and I tossed and turned. Hour after hour until I collected maybe two hours of sleep before my alarm woke me. It was the soft time of night when others were just finding that deep, much-needed sleep. I wasn’t sure, honestly, how much longer I could keep this up. Yes, this was day two, but I felt so exhausted!

              I put on the same dress I wore to work yesterday, because it was already dirty and I didn’t have to worry about messing it up. I grabbed a white tank top to throw over it after my shift. It would make a skirt and tank ensemble for my class. I could splash myself with perfume and be fine. I grabbed my notebook and pen and placed them in my large purse. I pulled my lose waves in a high pony tail and wore thin gold feather earrings. With a little bit of makeup on—tinted moisturizer, lip gloss, mascara, and baby pink blush, a must. I always like my cheeks to look rosy—it was time to leave because I didn’t want to be late for work.

              The grass smelled really sweet as I stood waiting for my cab to approach. The greatest thing about yesterday was I still had all the money I’d gotten. Jackson paid for my dress, and I wondered if he’d forgotten he’d given me two-hundred dollars. Caught up in the day dreamy remembering of the pleasant lunch date, the sidewalk scraped my knees, it was just the next thing to happen, my thoughts torn by a sudden interruption. Someone had come up right behind me and just pushed me down! I didn’t have time to respond before I felt a hand squeeze my arm, pulling me back up so they could turn me over. It was very dark, and through my scared haze all I saw was a figure, and I knew by their strength that it was a guy.

              “STOP!!!” I hollered as loud as I could, kicking up my feet. I thought I saw something, like a knife, shine under the moon that was still so full. It was still so dark –
why was I even awake?!

              “STOP!!!” I screamed again, and he ran off when my cab pulled up. I was too dazed and stuffed with fear to move. I reached for my purse only to realize it was gone. “Stop,” I sobbed, even though the attack was over. My knees stung horribly. The cabbie got out and rushed over.

              “Ms., oh Ms. Are you okay?”

              “No,” I cried. I mean,
hello!
I was not okay. “Please help me.” I was quite the damsel in distress. This was by far the worst thing to have ever happened to me! I held my hands up, and he slowly helped me to my feet.

              “Oh Ms.,” the driver said, overwhelmed. “Would you like to go to a hospital?”

              I just cried unable to reply. I didn’t even know how the insurance system worked in London. I never factored that into consideration while planning this trip. I looked down at my bloody knees. I couldn’t see the gravity of the cut since it was so dark but I knew it stung like hell.

              The driver was courteous and walked me back into the lobby. An older man rushed over to us.

              “What happened?” he asked, eyes full of compassion and care.

              “The poor thing was attacked, mugged,” the driver informed him. I was still in a daze of panic, shock, and fright.

              “I shall call the police,” the kind attendant stated at once, walking back over to the phone.

By the time I’d filed a report, had my knees cleaned and washed thoroughly and bandaged, I had to decide whether or not I wanted to face work – and Harry.  

              I’d spent the early morning in the lobby, right where the sun made its first stamp on the floor. I did not want to move. My legs hurt. I did not want to be alone, so I didn’t retire to my room. I didn’t want to go to work because I was probably fired anyway. But I was not the type to avoid situations, so eventually I went back outside, took a cab, said nothing, paid the money, and stepped out in front of Angel Birmingham’s. At 7:30am.

              It was insanely busy but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about these people because they had not been mugged this morning! I pushed passed them out and burst into tears before I even reached the counter.

              “Harry!” I cried out, expecting him to be both relieved and concerned when he saw me. I needed comfort. “Harry, oh my gosh Harry. I was robbed!”

              “Excuse me?” he spoke dryly as he placed one of many coffees on the counter. The place was utter chaos. “Where have you been?”

              “I was rubbed! I was attacked!” I was moments away from exaggerating and saying I’d been kidnapped when I heard that deep, collected voice slip up behind me.

              Jackson.

              “My goodness, are you okay?”

              I turned and saw those blue eyes, like a deep tranquil ocean, looking down at me.

              “No, no...” I fell into him. I felt his strong fingers in my soft, blonde hair. “This man – this monster – pushed me to the ground and took my purse. He had a knife!”

              “My god…” Jackson made it sound like this worst thing to have ever happened to anyone. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, pulling me back just to put his warm hands on either side of my face. “Come darling, are you okay?” He looked down at my knees, which were each patched up with a thick square bandage. “Your knees look swollen. Come.”

              He led me back through the crowded café. I did not care about this job. Harry was just mean. His heart had been pulled formed from a glacier, making the rest of him just as cold.

              Jackson calmly and quickly opened the backdoor to his limo, and I slipped in. It felt like a different world in here – a world of leather, champagne,
man,
and Bach. No indie music today.

              I looked over at him. He had on one of those fancy designer flannel shirts with the type of collar that was purposely made to look worn. He wore jeans and high-end boots, making him look almost civilian compared to his attire yesterday, dressed to the nines in a suit and tie.

              And then I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. I was so rattled, shaken to the core. I was so far away from home. I thought I could do this, handle it all. Be on my own at least just for the summer!

My tears fell fast, hard, and I couldn’t stop sniffling.

“There, there. Darling. Let me hold you.” His hold was comforting me. His warm hands secure, assuring my body that it would be okay with his gentle strokes. He polished his fingernails along my bare skin before lightly trailing his soft finger pads over my arm, which caused me to suddenly stop crying at the abrupt realization of the way my body responded to the touch.

I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
Oh wow…

“Here, darling. Have some orange juice.”

One last sniffle was caught in my throat, three huffs before I exhaled one last breathe and took a sip of the orange juice in the fancy flute. It tasted…like alcohol.

“This tastes like…”

“It’s a mimosa.”

He distanced himself just slightly, to get a better look at me.

“Tell me, are your tears from being frightened?”

I nodded my head yes and then shrugged my shoulders, fighting back the tears. I didn’t want to look like a baby, a mere child ,so I quickly let go of the emotion. I tried to regain my composer and looked out the window. I took a sip of the mimosa, admiring the taste while trills of a choir angelically sang a familiar Bach piece.