The Nanny Plan. Sarah M. Anderson

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wanted to comfort him. But she said, “No one knows about your brother?”

      “In the past, other people have tried to use that against me. Against my family. And I will not stand for it.” The last part came out meaner than he meant it to. She wasn’t a threat. She wasn’t Diana.

      “You give to mental illness research.”

      “Because of Joe, yeah.” He sighed. “He needs his routine. My mom takes care of him and I pay for home health workers. But the last few weeks, my parents have been so upset about Brad and Elena... Besides,” he added, feeling the weight of the words, “I’m her legal guardian.”

      “I see,” she replied. “Oh, that’s a good girl, Jane. Here.” She handed Nate the bottle and then casually moved the baby to her shoulder and began patting Jane’s back. “So you’re trying to hire a nanny?”

      “Yeah. You want the job?”

      Trish paused in midpat, and then laughed a little too forcefully. “That’s not why I’m here.”

      He wasn’t about to take no as an answer. So he didn’t always know what to do around members of the opposite sex. He knew how to negotiate a business deal. He needed a nanny. She needed money.

      “What do you mean? You obviously know what you’re doing.” The more he thought about it, the better he liked this idea. He’d already sort of interviewed her, after all. He liked her. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a good enough reason to offer her a job changing diapers and burping a baby, but he was comfortable with her and she knew what she was doing and that counted for something.

      She sighed. “Of course I do. My mom had nine kids with...four different men. Then she married my current stepfather, who had four kids of his own with two other women. I’m the oldest.”

      Nate tried to process that information. “Your mom had ten kids?”

      “Not that she took care of them,” Trish replied and for the first time, he heard a distinctive note of bitterness in her voice.

      “You?”

      Her smile was tight. “Me.”

      “Perfect.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Look, I need a nanny. More than that, I need you. I’ve had three people come to the door and no one’s made it past five minutes, whereas you’ve gotten Jane to calm down and stop screaming. I swear this is the first time in two weeks I’ve been able to hear myself think.”

      And all of that had nothing to do with the way Trish had touched him, so he was still acting aboveboard here.

      “Mr. Longmire,” she said in a deeply regretful tone, “I can’t. I’m due to graduate with my master’s degree in a month and a half. I need to finish my studies and—”

      “You can study here. When she sleeps.”

      Trish’s eyes flashed in defiance, which made him smile. “I work two jobs,” she went on, in a stronger voice. “I do research for the professor who nominated me for the Glamour award and I answer phones in the department.”

      This was much better. She was negotiating. And God knew that, despite the fact that he was so tired he was on the verge of seeing two Trishes cuddling two babies, he could negotiate a business deal. “For, what? Ten dollars an hour?”

      Her back stiffened. “Twelve-fifty, if you must know, but that’s not the point.”

      He felt himself grinning. This was what he’d liked in the coffee shop. She wasn’t afraid to push back. She wasn’t afraid to challenge him. “What is the point?”

      “I have a plan. I have school obligations and employment obligations and charitable obligations that I will meet. I have to start organizing the back-to-school drive now. I can’t drop everything just to nanny your niece. You’ll find a perfectly qualified nanny, I’m sure.”

      “I already have.”

      “No, Mr. Longmire.”

      He did some quick calculations in his head. He had to keep her here with him. He needed her in a way he’d never needed any other woman. Everyone had a breaking point. Where was hers?

      “I will personally call your professor and explain that you’ve been selected for a unique opportunity.”

      Her eyes flew wide in disbelief. “You wouldn’t.”

      “Obviously you’ll finish your degree, but you’ll need to stay here during the month. Sleep here.”

      “Excuse me?” She looked indignant. The baby, who had actually stopped crying and was possibly asleep, startled and began to make mewing noises.

      “I’ll pay you five thousand dollars for one month.”

      Whatever biting rejection she’d been about to say died in a gurgling noise in the back of her throat. “What?”

      “One month. I can probably find another nanny in that amount of time, but I need you now.”

      “Mr. Longmire—”

      “Nate.”

      “Mister Longmire,” she went on with whispered emphasis. The baby mewed again. Without appearing to think about it, Trish stood and began rocking from side to side.

      Yeah, he was looking at his nanny. “One month. A temporary nanny position.”

      “I’ll lose my lease. I’m—I can’t afford much. My landlord wants me out so she can triple the rent.”

      “Ten thousand.”

      All the blood drained out of her face, but she didn’t answer.

      “Come on, Ms. Hunter. Ten grand could get you set up in a nice apartment. For one month of teaching me how to care for my niece and helping me find a more permanent nanny. I’d hazard a guess that you’d be moving out of that apartment after graduation, anyway. This can be the nanny plan. Just a slight change to your original plan.”

      Her mouth opened. “A slight change?”

      Which was not a no, but also wasn’t an agreement to his terms. Where was her breaking point? Then it hit him. The charity.

      “Twenty thousand,” he said, impulsively doubling the salary. Let’s see her say no to that, he thought. “In addition to that salary, I’m prepared to make a donation to the One Child, One...whatever it was. One hundred thousand dollars.”

      Trish collapsed back into the seat, which jostled the baby. She quickly stood again, but instead of rocking from side to side, she turned and walked to the window. “You wouldn’t do that.”

      “I can and I will.” She didn’t reply. He realized she wasn’t necessarily playing hardball with him, but what the hell did a couple hundred grand mean to him? Nothing. He’d never even miss it, but he might change her life. “Fine. Two-fifty. My final offer.”

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