Darcy. The woman he’d emailed, the woman he’d spoken to on the phone. The woman he’d all but hired sight unseen to be his live-in nanny because of her impressive references and the number of years the agency had been in business.
Na pari i eychi. Damn it.
What happened to the short, round, bun-wearing grandmother type he’d seen pictured on the website? He’d been assured the woman coming to care for his daughter was the owner. No way could this curvaceous beauty be in charge of Loving Hands Childcare Agency. Perhaps they’d sent someone else at the last minute.
Colin shifted his irate daughter to his good hip. Damn accident still had him fighting to get back to normal...whatever normal was after nearly dying and then losing your wife. “You’re not what I expected.”
Quirking a brow, she tipped her head as a smile spread across her face. Her eyes ran over him, no doubt taking in his running shorts, T-shirt and bedhead.
“That would make two of us.”
Her sparkling eyes held his. Was she mocking him? Of course she was. She had no idea who she was speaking to...not that anybody here knew of his royal status, but still. Nobody mocked him except his brother.
Iris’s piercing wails grew louder, more shrill in his ear. Between lack of sleep and the constant pain in his back and hip, he was done trying to be Father of the Year. The fact that he’d had no choice but to find assistance still angered him. Iris was the only reason he was giving in. Her needs had to come before his pride—which is why he now found himself staring down at the petite, yet very shapely, nanny.
This is what he’d wanted, right? To be free from all the servants, the media, the people ready to step in and practically raise his child for him while thrusting her into the limelight? Hell, he’d even been running his own vacuum here. Among other domestic tasks like dusting and putting the trash out at the end of the driveway. His brother would die laughing if he saw Mikos wielding a dust mop.
Colin. He had to keep thinking of himself as Colin now that he was in the United States. His middle name would help him blend in so much better. He was here to see who he was as a man, not a prince. To rediscover a piece of himself he was afraid he’d lost.
He just wanted these next six months to be free of all things involving his royal status. He was tired of being home where pity shrouded the faces of everyone he came in contact with. Yes, he was a widower, but so many people didn’t know he and his wife had been separated for months before her death. They’d had to keep putting up a good front for the sake of their reputations.
Pretenses. That word pretty much summed him up. He wanted this freedom, wanted to see how he and Iris could live without being waited on hand and foot. He’d promised his brother, King Stefan, that he would only be in the United States for six months, the maximum time a member of the royal family could be away from the island for personal reasons. Then Colin would have to decide whether to renounce his title of Prince Mikos Colin Alexander of Galini Isle or return to the island and resume his royal duties.
Colin was first in line to take over the throne if something ever happened to his brother. If he gave up his position, the crown would be passed to their oldest cousin, who’d rather chase skirts and make scandalous headlines than run a country. That fact had guilt coursing through Colin every time he thought about the situation.
He’d temporarily lost his title when he’d married Karina because she had been divorced once. Their land had archaic rules, but that was one he hadn’t been about to fight.
Now that his wife had passed on, he was thrust back into the royal limelight whether he wanted to be there or not. And with his daughter being the next generation of royalty, that automatically made her a duchess. The entire situation was a complicated mess. Added to that, he faced years of ramifications if he chose to walk away from his title.
Colin was determined to be a hands-on father. Being in a new country, still adjusting to this lifestyle and trying to cope with this damn inconvenient handicap forced him to admit he might need just a bit of help. This short-term arrangement would give him good insight into whether or not he could fully care for Iris on his own and if he and his baby should stay here.
When Iris arched her back, screaming as if someone had taken her most prized possession, Darcy instantly reached for the girl.
Without asking, the woman swiped away Iris’s tears and gently lifted her from his arms.
“Now, now,” Darcy said, patting Iris’s back and lightly bouncing his eighteen-month-old. “I’m not a fan of Monday mornings, either.”
Colin crossed his arms over his chest as Darcy continued to speak in a calm, relaxing tone. Yeah, like that was going to work. Iris couldn’t hear this woman for all the screaming. No way would Darcy’s sweet, soft voice penetrate the power of a toddler’s lungs.
Darcy stroked a finger across Iris’s damp cheeks again. Little by little she started to calm as this virtual stranger kept talking in the same soothing tone, never raising her voice to be louder than Iris. Colin watched as his daughter stared at the stranger.
Within a minute or two, Iris had stopped fussing and was pulling Darcy’s ponytail around. Strands of rich, silky hair instantly went to Iris’s mouth as she sniffed, hiccupped and finally settled herself.
“Oh, no.” He reached for the clump of hair that was serving as Iris’s pacifier, but Darcy shifted her body away.
“She’s fine,” Darcy assured him in the same delicate voice she’d used moments ago to get Iris under control. “Babies put everything in their mouths. I promise it’s clean.”
Colin watched as Iris gripped the strands in her tight fist and gave a swift yank. Darcy only laughed and reached up to pat the baby’s pudgy little hand. “Not so hard, little one. That’s attached.”
Colin couldn’t believe this. Iris had cried off and on all night—more on than off—and had been quite angry all morning. How the hell did this woman calm his child in the span of a few minutes? With a ponytail?
Darcy tapped a fingertip to Iris’s nose before turning her attention to him. “May I come in?”
Feeling like a jerk for leaving her on his porch, Colin stepped back and opened the door wider. As Darcy passed by him, some fruity scent trailed her, tickling his nose in a teasing manner.
If he thought she looked good from the front, the view from behind was even more impressive. The woman knew how to wear a pair of jeans.
Perhaps she was older than he’d first thought, because only a woman would be this shapely, this comfortable with her body. He’d assumed all women in LA wanted that waiflike build, enhanced with silicone as the perfect accessory.
Darcy Cooper was anything but waiflike and her curves were all natural.
Colin gritted his teeth and took a mental step back. He needed to focus. The last thing he needed was to be visually sampling a potential nanny. He had to blame his wayward thoughts on sleep deprivation. Nothing else could explain this sudden onset of lust. His wife was the last woman he’d slept with and that was before his near-fatal rock climbing accident two years ago. Between the accident, the baby, the separation from his wife and then her death...yeah, sex hadn’t been a priority in his life.
Years ago he’d been the Playboy Prince of Galini Isle
