was a little late getting away this morning,” she explained. “And then traffic was heavier than I expected. Of course, taking a wrong turn at Highway Six didn’t help, either, but at least I didn’t travel too far out of my way.”
The housekeeper didn’t comment in any way except to ask, “Are your bags in the car?”
“Yes, I’ll get them later.”
“Estavan—my husband—will bring them in for you,” Mrs. Fuentes told her.
“Okay. That would be great. Thanks.” She paused, just taking a minute to absorb the scene.
She’d thought passing through the gates at Verde Colinas had been a culture shock, but now she felt even more like a country mouse set loose in the big city. The house, probably three times the size of the prince’s primary residence in Port Augustine, almost seemed as big as a city—a very prosperous and exquisite one.
“There’s a powder room down the hall, if you would like to freshen up before meeting with Prince Michael,” the housekeeper told her.
Hannah nodded. “I would.”
“First door on the right.”
“And the prince’s office?”
“The third door on the left down the west corridor.”
Michael sensed her presence even before he saw her standing in the open doorway. When he looked up, he noticed that she’d dressed less formally today than at their first meeting, and that the jeans and T-shirt she wore made her look even younger than he’d originally guessed. He’d told her that casual attire was acceptable, and there was nothing inappropriate about what she was wearing. But he couldn’t help noticing how the denim hugged her thighs and molded to her slim hips. The V-neck of her T-shirt wasn’t low enough to give even a glimpse of cleavage, but the soft cotton clung to undeniably feminine curves. She wore silver hoops in her ears, and her hair was in a loose ponytail rather than a tight knot, making her look more approachable and even more beautiful, and he felt the distinct hum of sexual attraction through his veins.
Uncomfortable with the stirring of feelings so long dormant, his voice was a little harsher than he’d intended when he said, “You’re late.”
Still, his tone didn’t seem to faze her. “I told you that I would come as soon as possible, and I did.”
“I had a conference call at 8:00 a.m. this morning that I had to reschedule because you weren’t here.”
He expected that she would apologize or show some sign of remorse. Instead she surprised him by asking, “Why on earth would you schedule a conference call so early on the first morning of your vacation?”
“I told you that I would be conducting business from here,” he reminded her. “And your job is to take care of my daughter so that I can focus on doing so.”
“A job I’m looking forward to,” she assured him.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said. “I would expect that someone who spends ten months out of the year with kids would want a break.”
“Spending the summer with a four-year-old is a welcome break from senior advanced English and history,” she told him.
Senior English and history? The implications of her statement left him momentarily speechless. “You’re a high school teacher?” he finally said.
Now it was her turn to frown. “I thought you knew that.”
He shook his head. “Phillip said you would be perfect for the job because you were a teacher—I assumed he meant elementary school.”
“Well, you assumed wrong.” She shrugged, the casual gesture drawing his attention to the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her T-shirt and very nearly making him forget the reason for his concern.
“So what kind of experience do you have with preschool children, Miss Castillo?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to her face.
“Other than the fact that I was one?” she asked lightly.
“Other than that,” he agreed.
“None,” she admitted.
“None?” Dios! How could this have happened? He was the consummate planner. He scheduled appointment reminders in his BlackBerry; he took detailed notes at every meeting; he checked and double-checked all correspondence before he signed anything. And yet he’d somehow managed to hire a nanny who knew absolutely nothing about being a nanny.
“Well, my friend Karen has a couple of kids, and I’ve spent a lot of time with them,” Hannah continued.
He shook his head, trying to find solace in the fact that their agreement was for only two months, but he was beginning to question why he’d been in such a hurry to replace Brigitte. Had he been thinking of Riley—or had he been more concerned about maintaining the status quo in his own life? Or maybe he’d been spellbound by Miss Castillo’s sparkling eyes and warm smile. Regardless of his reasons, he knew it wasn’t her fault that he’d hired her on the basis of some mistaken assumptions. But if she was going to spend the summer with Riley, she had a lot to learn—and fast.
“You’ll need this,” he said, passing a sheaf of papers across the desk.
In the transfer of the pages, her fingers brushed against his. It was a brief and incidental contact, but he felt the jolt sizzle in his veins. Her gaze shot to meet his, and the widening of her eyes confirmed that she’d felt it, too. That undeniable tug of a distinctly sexual attraction.
As he looked into her eyes, he realized he’d made another mistake in thinking that they were blue—they were actually more gray than blue, the color of the sky before a storm, and just as mesmerizing.
Then she glanced away, down at the papers he’d given to her, and he wondered if maybe he’d imagined both her reaction and his own.
“What is this?” she asked him.
“It’s Riley’s schedule.”
She looked back at him, then at the papers again. “You’re kidding.”
“A child needs consistency,” he said firmly, because it was something Brigitte had always insisted upon, and he usually deferred to the nanny with respect to decisions about his daughter’s care.
“If you’re referring to a prescribed bedtime, I would absolutely agree,” Hannah said. “But a child also needs a chance to be spontaneous and creative, and this—” she glanced at the chart again, obviously appalled “—this even schedules her bathroom breaks.”
Maybe the charts Brigitte had prepared for the new nanny did provide a little too much detail, but he understood that she’d only wanted to ease the transition for both Riley and her temporary caregiver. “Brigitte found that taking Riley to the bathroom at prescribed times greatly simplified the toilet-training process.”
“But she’s almost four years old now,” Hannah noted. “I’m sure …” Her words trailed off, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry—I just didn’t
