Nanny and the Professor

Nanny

and
the

Professor

By Donna
Fasano

Nanny and the Professor

By Donna
Fasano

Copyright © Donna
Fasano
, 2012

Cover Artist/Cover Design, Heather McGrath

(www.heathermcgrathdesign.com)

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part (beyond that copying permitted by U.S. Copyright Law, Section 107, "fair use" in teaching or research, Section 108, certain library copying, or in published media by reviewers in limited excerpt) without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

Other books by Donna
Fasano

The Merry-Go-Round

His Wife for a While

Mountain Laurel

Taking Love in Stride

Return of the Runaway Bride

An Accidental Family

Where's
Stanley
?

Visit the author's
blog
: www.DonnaFasano.blogspot.com

Twitter:
www.Twitter.com/DonnaFaz

Facebook
:
www.Facebook.com/DonnaFasanoAuthor

Chapter One

Cassie Simmons parked her car in front of the impressive stone Tudor-style home and rechecked the house number carefully. In the hopes of calming her jittery nerves she smoothed her hand against her tense abdomen, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply several times. Mary Kingston, Cassie's landlady, had claimed that her nephew was desperate for a live-in nanny. Cassie hoped it was true– because she was desperate for a job.

She turned off the ignition and fixed her anxious gaze on the big house that sat back some distance from the road. The butterflies in her stomach were having a grand old time dancing a jig to the music her apprehension provided.

Mrs. Kingston had said that, although her nephew wouldn't be the easiest person to work for, the nanny position came with room and board, and the salary was generous. Of course, Mary could have gotten the details wrong. It was a well-known fact that Mary could be a little… absent-minded. The polite word choice that had run through Cassie's thoughts had her grinning in spite of her angst. Mary Kingston wasn't just absent-minded; hell, she was downright scatterbrained, a half-baked ball of wacky sunshine.
In the most lovable, slap-happy way, of course.

But if Mary's information was even partially accurate, this job could be the perfect solution to Cassie's predicament. Working for a demanding employer didn't worry her in the least. She'd been there, done that. She only hoped that, once she landed the job, she could make Professor Joshua Kingston understand that Eric came as part of the package. There was no compromising on that.

As she thought of the impending interview with Professor Kingston, her hands started to tremble slightly. The man couldn't have become a college professor without possessing his fair share of smarts. Cassie knew she'd have to keep her wits about her if she were to keep him from discovering her secret.

She'd kept the awful truth from her last employer for years. She hadn't lied; she simply hadn't felt the need to answer questions that had never been asked. She'd lost the position, though, regardless of her excellent job performance record, once the plant manager had found her out.

Cassie would need to practice extreme caution when answering Joshua Kingston's questions. She planned to be truthful, as always, but that didn't mean she had to bare her soul to the man.

Tucking her purse under her arm, she started up the long, gently curving walkway. The air was thick with humidity as only summers in
New Jersey
could be. Yet, she was oblivious to the August heat as all the reasons she so crucially needed this job swam through her head; Eric needed new clothes, she owed the doctor for the last office visit when Eric had been so sick, and she still owed Mrs. Kingston for this month's rent. Next month's rent would be due in two short weeks.

The sigh she heaved did nothing to relieve the tightness in her chest. If she could convince Professor Kingston to hire her, she needn't worry about next month's rent. Her gaze swept across the front of the house. Living in digs this nice was an employment perk she'd never had before.

Halfway to the front door, an odd sound caught her attention.
The sharp snap of a twig.
Then another.
She stopped and scanned the yard. Movement at the side of the house, way up near the second story, drew her gaze. She sucked in her breath. There, perched precariously high in the tree, was a little boy. His hold on the branch looked awkward as he reached out toward a furry ball of fluff. Cassie had to squint to see the tiny kitten out on the limb.

Cold fear crawled over her skin and she shuddered. The child was going to plunge to the ground, she was sure of it. Heedless of the flower bed bordering the walk, she dashed straight toward the tree.

"Here, Tinker," she heard the boy coax the kitten. Uncertainty wavered in his voice and he clearly wobbled on the narrow branch.

Looking up through the leaves, she could see him inching out farther, slow and unsteady. She was reluctant to call out to him, afraid that if she startled him he'd lose his already precarious perch.

The child's breath became raspy. "
Oo
-
oo
-" The utterance quivered with fear. "Oh, somebody help." But he said the words very quietly as if he weren't in the habit of causing a stir.

"I'm here," Cassie called. She could see the bottom of one of his sneakers protruding over the edge of the tree branch.

"I think I'm in trouble, lady," he said. Then with more certainty, he added, "I'm in big trouble, lady.
Big trouble."

Cassie was distressed by the wheezy quality of his breathing. She could tell he was terrified. It struck her suddenly that the little boy in the tree must be Joshua Kingston's son, the child she'd be caring for. Well, this was as good a time as any to start.

"Don't look down," she told him. Her words were a hell of a lot calmer than what she was experiencing on the inside. "Hang on. I'm coming up to get you."

She jumped, trying to grab the lowest, fattest limb of the tree, but couldn't quite reach it.

"Where can I find a ladder?" she asked.

"I need help," the boy said, this time louder.

"I'm going to help you," Cassie explained, "but you need to help me too. I can't reach the branch to climb up to you. I need a ladder. Where can I find one?"

"Um, there should be one in
the.
. . in the garage.
Over there.
Aa-aah
."

Cassie heard rather than saw him slip and catch hold. Her heart leapt into her throat, and the kitten offered a plaintive mew. Two green leaves sailed lazily toward the ground.

"Don't point," she said. "Just hang on with both hands."

"Around back," he told her.
"Around the house."

"Okay, listen-"

"I'm
gonna
fall, lady."

The helplessness and fear he conveyed tore at Cassie's heart. She tried to gauge just how far he was from the ground. If he did tumble from the tree, there was no doubt he'd be seriously injured. Bumps and cuts and bruises and broken bones and… The thought was just plain scary.

"I won't let you fall," she promised. How the heck she could keep it, she had no idea.

She heard him sniff jerkily, and when he started to cry, she knew she would have to calm him before she could go off to find the ladder.

"What's your name?" she asked, using an upbeat tone she hoped would both soothe him and instill his trust.

"Andrew."

"Listen to me, Andy. I want you to sit down. Slow and steady. Good. Now, clamp your knees against the branch and lock your ankles together, okay?"

Without speaking, he followed her instructions.

"Good boy. That's perfect. Hold on tight, now." She watched him clutch the limb with all his might. Her clear, unruffled directions seemed to give him a small bit of security. "Now, listen," she continued. "I'm going to get a ladder from the garage. I'll be back in less than a minute. Can you hold on that long?"

"Only one minute?" he asked.

"Yep.
In fact, why don't you count
New Jersey
and I'll be back before you get to sixty of them."

"Count
New Jersey
?
Wha'da'ya
mean?"

"It's a game." She knew if he was concentrating on his words, no matter how silly they were, he'd be less focused on his hairy situation. "And it goes like this, one
New Jersey
, two
New Jersey
…"