A Celebration Christmas. Nancy Thompson Robards

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the number. So that meant he had to answer it. Lily might be calling to say she was lost...or to cancel. Maybe he shouldn’t answer.

      He was already pushing it by leaving the hospital in the middle of the day, asking his colleague Liam Thayer to cover for him. Thayer was the one who had recommended Lily. Cullen prayed to God that she was as perfect for the job as Liam’s wife, Kate, had promised.

      “Please, Angie.” He was relieved when she heaved a resigned sigh and set her purse on the kitchen’s granite-topped center island.

      “I need to take this call. Just play a game with them. Please. And thank you.

      “Cullen Dunlevy,” he said as he made his way to his office, where he could still hear the doorbell if the nanny arrived while he was on the phone.

      “Hey, Doc, it’s Max Cabot. Got a sec?”

      Max was the contractor who was building the new pediatric surgical wing at the hospital. The entire Celebration community had rallied to raise money for this much-needed improvement to Celebration Memorial Hospital.

      A door slammed in another part of the house. Cullen heard kids shrieking and laughing. Franklin the dog, who had come as a package deal with the kids, barked.

      Had they been outside? Wasn’t it raining? Judging by the noise level, they were definitely inside now.

      “Hold on, Max.” Cullen put his hand over the phone. “Hey, guys, can you keep it down, please? I’m on the phone. Play a game with Angie. Play that new Monopoly game we just bought.”

      His words were lost in the cacophony and the sound of running feet—like a herd of stampeding buffalo. He shook his head.

      “Max, I have to call you back, buddy. This is not a good time. I have...a situation here, and I have an appointment that should arrive any minute.”

      “No problem,” said Max. “If you’re at home, I’m going to drop by some documents for you to review. I won’t stay. It’ll just be a drop and run.”

      Before Cullen could answer, Angie’s voice screeched above the kid noise and the barking dog. “Get down! Get off me. You nasty mutt. You stink. Ugggh!” She made a guttural sound like an angry bear. “What is this? What did that dog get on my pants? Get him out of here before I open the front door and put him out myself!”

       What the hell?

      The dog’s bark had changed to a protective growl.The kids were all talking at once. One of them started crying as Angie continued her nasty-dog tirade.

      Cullen put his hand over his free ear as he walked toward the kitchen to make sure Angie and the kids hadn’t come to blows. “Good, Max. See you soon. I have to go.”

      Cullen hung up the phone and hurried into the kitchen.

      “What’s wrong?” Cullen asked. “Why all the noise?”

      Angie had a wet paper towel in her hand and was dabbing at something brown and suspicious on the thigh of her khaki pants. The wet dog, a shaggy black Heinz 57 variety, had taken a protective stance and continued his growl-bark at Angie. Hannah, the youngest of the four kids, was sobbing into her hands. “You can’t put him out front. He’ll go away just like Mommy did.”

      The middle girl, Bridget, put her arms around her little sister and hugged her. “Don’t worry, Hannah. I won’t let her do anything to Franklin.”

      Angie looked over at Cullen with crazy eyes. “I did not sign up for this.” Her hand made a sweeping gesture. “This dog has ruined my new pants with his filth and he’s tracked up the floor I mopped. You’re going to have to clean that up yourself along with the blue mess, Dr. Dunlevy, because I quit. I’m out of here.”

      She tossed the wadded paper towel into the garbage, grabbed her purse and speed-walked out of the kitchen toward the front door.

      “Good! I’m glad she’s gone,” said George. He punctuated his declaration with a loud raspberry.

      Oh, for the love of all things holy. “Angie, wait, please. Send me a bill for the pants. I’ll replace them.”

      One hand on the door, she paused and looked back. “They cost ninety-five dollars. You can include it in my final paycheck, which you may mail to my house.”

      Ninety-five dollars? Was she kidding? Who wore expensive pants to clean a house? Of course, with her cushy gig, she didn’t have to get her hands—or her pants—very dirty. Angie was all about making the most money expending the least amount of energy.

      He and his colleagues were the ones who paid her.

      Who was the smart one in this scenario?

      Angie opened the door and nearly missed running head-on into a perky blonde who stood there smiling, one hand raised as if to knock on the door.

      Lily Palmer? Had to be.

      One look at her sparkling green eyes and her dimpled smile and Cullen had to fight the urge to hire her right on the spot. She looked like a blonde angel backlit by a ray of sunshine that had finally broken through the gray storm clouds.

      As the sound of bickering kids trailed through the half-open front door, he wondered if he could interview her on the front porch and not let her inside until she had taken an irrevocable pledge to work as a nanny for the month of December, which was the length of time she was available to nanny.

       God, please don’t let the kids run her off the same way they sent Angie packing.

      “Hello,” she said. Her smile didn’t falter and the sparkle in her green eyes didn’t fade despite the unwelcoming sounds coming from the house and the figurative horns and fangs that Angie sported as she stood next to Lily on the front-porch step.

      “I’m Lily Palmer. I’m looking for Dr. Cullen Dunlevy. I’m here to interview for the nanny position.”

      “I’m Cullen Dunlevy.” That was when he noticed that her eyes weren’t just green; they were flecked with gold and her full lips were...stunning. For a fleeting moment he wanted nothing more than to taste those lips, but he mentally shook away the inappropriate thought.

      This wasn’t a speed-dating interview.

      He needed her.

      Uh— He needed her to watch the kids. He’d be wise to keep himself in check.

      Angie laughed. It was a bitter sound.

      “I have two pieces of advice for you, Lily Palmer,” she said. “Run while you can. Run and save yourself.”

      * * *

      Lily looked at the shockingly handsome man who had answered the door and then back at the frazzled-looking middle-aged woman, who made a snorting sound as she turned away from them and virtually jogged toward the driveway.

      “Have I come at a bad time?” Lily asked.

      She could hear a barking dog and children’s voices somewhere behind the half-open front door. The sounds were temporarily eclipsed by the

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