Marrying the Millionaire (6 page)

Glaring up at CJ as he sat inside the
birdhouse, cradling the binoculars in his tiny hands, she ground
her back molars. “Get your behind down here right now, CJ!” she
demanded, pointing an index finger toward the ground.

Kayla glowered down at the
dirt stains embedded on her cotton dress and cried inwardly.
I look a hot mess. I’m never going to make my
interview in time. Being a single mother is so hard
sometimes.

CJ’s bottom lip curled under. He
clambered down the ladder and slowly walked up to her. “I’m sorry,
Mommy.”

With a hand on her hip, Kayla pointed
a finger in his cute, sorrowful face and spat, “You should be
sorry, CJ.” With no time to waste, she jerked him off his feet,
propped him on her hip, and ran next door to Betsie Mae’s house to
drop him off.

In a panicked rush, she hopped in her
grandfather’s red pickup truck, jammed the key in the ignition, and
backed up out of the driveway. Running late, she threw the gear in
drive. The tires on the old truck screeched when she flooded the
gas.

Long moments later, Kayla drove the
beat up truck down the long, straight road toward the Spaulding
Estate. Clenching the steering wheel, humid fall air blew through
the opened windows into the truck, whipping her long hair across
her perspiring, dingy face. Instead of racing to an interview, she
wished she was at home indulging in a long, hot bubble bath and
washing the grimy-feeling dirt from her arms and knees.

God, it’s so freaking hot.
I’ve got to get the air conditioner fixed in this truck and get
some new tires on my car. Oh Carson, how could you skip your child
support payment again? I need that money. I’m struggling. Bad. All
you care about is yourself.

Determined to remain
strong, Kayla gassed the truck at rapid speed down the narrow,
clean road. Grey Spanish moss dangled from the limbs of burly oaks
on either side of the road. Many acreages of emerald bare land
lined both sides, too.
Mr. Spaulding must
own this entire area out here.

The scenery out in this
rich part of town was breathtaking and rather secluded, she
thought, thinking her chances of actually landing the nanny job
were highly unlikely with the way she looked. For at least two
miles down the road, there wasn’t a single home in sight, and then
suddenly a large equestrian appeared to her right.
Is there where I’m supposed to be?

The engine on the truck
gurgled rough, then shimmied, causing Kayla to wonder if it’d break
down any minute now. She slowed the shaking truck to read the sign
posted outside the black wrought iron gate encircling the spacious
property.
Spaulding Equestrian
Center.
Trying to read the brown numbers
on the brick mailbox, she squinted.
Do I
have the right address?

A blond-haired gentleman riding a
horse on the other side of the gate spotted her looking at the
estate. Fisting the reins, he steered the black horse in her
direction.

“
May I help you?” he asked,
bringing the animal to a stop beside the truck.

Kayla gazed at the
Caucasian man’s face.
What striking blue
eyes he has
. “Yes, I’m looking for Mr.
Spaulding’s Estate. Is this it?”

Mr. Blue Eyes shook his head. “No,
ma’am. This is Mr. Spaulding’s Equestrian, his place of business.
His home is three miles further down the road.” He
nodded.

“
Thanks.”

Wondering if she should’ve
just cancelled her interview, Kayla pressed hard on the gas and
began driving further down the long road. Another two and three
quarters miles later, she heard a loud pop.
What in the world? Pop. Pop.
The
steering wheel vibrated in her clenching grip as the vehicle shook,
rocked, and shimmied. Pressing hard on the brakes, she brought the
vehicle to a harsh stop at the side of the road.

Smelling burnt rubber, Kayla clambered
out of the truck and noticed she had a flat tire. Feeling doomed,
she threw her arms in the air.

“
I can’t believe this!” She
kicked the side of the truck. “A freaking flat tire!”

Fuming, she laid her head
on the hot hood of the car.
I’ve got to
keep going. I’ve got to earn a living for myself.

Kayla’s misery was like a
steel weight as she lifted her head from the hood of the truck.
Straightening her stance, she faced forward to find Mr. Spaulding’s
estate nestled in the cul-de-sac straight ahead.
Woooowww.

The brown brick mansion sat centered
on several acreages of thick emerald grass. Round ivory columns
encircled the entire porch from front to back. Steep stairs led up
to the front porch, decorated with red, wooden rocking chairs. A
huge marsh edging along a lake, dominated by willowy brown grasses
and deep rooted rushes, bristled behind the mansion. To the right
of the home sat a brown barn and a stack of yellowish hay. If Kayla
had to guesstimate, the big house had to be at least fifteen
thousand square feet. Maybe twenty.

This job probably pays a
lot. I’ve got to get this job. I just have to.

Kayla’s heartbeat escalated. Suddenly,
her courage and determination were like a rock inside her. She took
off running.

RICHMOND’S JAW MUSCLES
FLICKERED. SITTING at the burnt brown refurbished desk inside his
home office at his ranch style estate, he spied the time on his
laptop.
Eleven
twenty-five
.
She’s late
.
Very. Late.

Disapproving of his candidate’s
tardiness, a low groan rattled at the base of his throat. Upset, he
stared at the deer head tacked to the wall above the entrance of
the doorway. The person he hired to care for his precious daughter
Isabelle had to demonstrate loyalty and honesty, and she had to be
caring. And on damn time. He wanted nothing but the best for his
daughter, his pumpkin.

Having run out of patience for this
supposedly great candidate named Kayla Crawford to arrive, Richmond
slammed a hard fist down on his desk. Right when he hefted his cell
phone from the desk to call Sandy at the Nanny Staffing Agency to
tell her to forget about him hiring Kayla, his doorbell
rang.

It’d be a cold day in hell
before I hire this Kayla-late-ass-Crawford to take care of my
Isabelle.

He was so frustrated ‘til his teeth
ached from clenching them so hard. He hated tardy people, and
slackers.

His estate manager, Chelsey, strolled
inside his office wearing a navy blue shirt, a pair of tan slacks,
and flat Sperry’s. Her short blonde hair stopped at her
shoulders.

“
Richmond, your eleven
o’clock interview has arrived. Should I show her in at this
time?”

Richmond gave his head a hard shake.
“No.”

Chelsey’s brows lifted.
“Huh?”

Frustration rattled his spirit. “I’m
not going to interview her.”

Chelsey’s light green eyes rounded.
“What should I tell her?”

“
Nothing. I’ll tell this
Kayla woman I’m not interviewing her myself.”
I specifically told Sandy I hated when people showed up late
for their jobs and interviews.
Richmond
scooted the chair back, stood, then crossed the room to
Chelsey.

Consideration shone in Chelsey’s
pupils. “Are you sure you don’t want to listen to why she’s late
first?”

Richmond was so mad, he felt he could
poof smoke from his ears. Just a few days ago, he had to fire his
nanny for being late all the time. Now this Kayla woman was late
and had the nerve to still show up for her interview. She was
thirty minutes late at that. Not five minutes late. Or ten. Or
fifteen. But thirty.

“
I’m positive, Chelsey.
There’s no way I’m hiring someone who’s not even considerate enough
to call and say why they’re running late. After the last nanny I
hired, I have to be more cautious and more particular as to who I
hire to take care of Isabelle. Sarah was a complete and utter
disaster. Had no business caring for a child.”

Richmond pivoted on his
heels, then stalked down the narrow hallway of his home.
Lord, help me. I sure do miss my sweet Salina.
She should be here caring for our daughter, not some
nanny
, he thought, praying someday the
private investigator he’d hired would capture his dead wife’s
murderer
.

Richmond rounded the corner
of the hallway and stalked into the living room to find the
dirtiest looking interviewee he’d ever laid eyes on; however,
although this Kayla didn’t present well, she sure as heck was
mighty pretty. No, make that extremely beautiful. So beautiful,
she’d almost knocked him off his feet when he’d first laid eyes on
her.
So what?
Carefully thinking of how he was going to tell her to get
lost,
his eyes linked with hers, then
lingered up and down her body.

Black soot stained the high cheekbones
of her brown, caramel, cute face. Trouble settled deeply into her
dark brown, mesmerizing irises. Long brunette hair tangled wildly
over her shoulders and down her back. Her ears were small and
dainty. Her breasts ample, perky. Her nose, perfect.

God, you look familiar.
Where have I seen you before? As rough as you appear, lady, you’re
still pretty. Naturally beautiful.

Surprised Kayla had the nerve to show
up at his house this late for an important interview, he extended
his hand to her. “Richmond. Spaulding.”

The gentle, yet unkempt looking woman
linked her soft palm to his. “Kayla. Crawford.” Swallowing, she
tightened her grip around his. “Mr. Spaulding.” She blinked, her
long lashes shadowing her face. Releasing his hand, she cleared her
throat. “I’m so sorry I’m late and showed up for the interview
looking like this, but my son—”

Excuses.
Excuses
. Richmond hoped his stare drilled
into her as he stated, “There’s no need to apologize. Things
happen. I’m sure you have a good reason for being tardy; however,
I’ve decided not to interview you.” Many people had often found his
bluntness a character flaw, but he didn’t give a damn. As far as he
was concerned, it was better to know the truth and to know where a
person was coming from.

Kayla’s disappointed eyes sprouted
wide. “Huh? But I, I’m sorry. My son—”

Undeterred by her excuses, Richmond
kept his lips in a straight line. “One of my greatest pet peeves is
tardiness, Kayla.”

Gazing up at him with those round
squirrel eyes of hers, Kayla tilted her head. Ah, damn. She looked
pitiful, but still, he couldn’t risk hiring her. After everything
Isabelle had been through, she needed a lot of attention. Someone
who understood loss, and hurt, and what it felt like to lose a
mother.

This woman probably has
never lost a thing in her life. As cute as she is, she’s probably
spoiled rotten.

Kayla’s shoulders motioned up, then
down as she took a deep breath. “Aren’t you going to at least hear
me out?” she asked with a shrug.

Why you’re late doesn’t
matter
. “No. I’m pressed for
time.”

“
But I—”

“
Nothing you say will
change my mind.” His brows dipped.
This
stubborn lady doesn’t like taking no for an answer, I see.
“You should’ve called to say you were running
late. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some important business I
need to take care of.” Richmond rounded Kayla, then pulled open his
front door. “Good day, Ms. Crawford. I wish you well with finding
the right job to fit your personality.” He stepped to the side to
let her by.
Maybe the next time she has an
interview, she’ll leave earlier. Allow enough time for bad things
to happen.

Kayla stood on the threshold, gazing
up at him. Taut, a misty sheen shone in her brown, dejected eyes.
Hell, he hoped this strained woman didn’t burst into tears right in
front of him. He hated when women cried. The somber expression on
her face made his heart twirl.

I’d be a fool to hire you.
Something in my mind tells me you’re all wrong for the
job.