Prince of a Guy (4 page)

It had been an inadvertent peek, sure, but he’d enjoyed it all the same. From his vantage point in the pool, he’d gotten a front-and-center view of her plain white bikini panties, cut high on the thigh, with enough material to cover her mound, but that material had been rather sheer. It had been dark, too dark to tell, but he’d imagined them wet.

It had made him hard then.

Hell, he was hard now. All those layers of clothes, hiding the best set of legs on this side of the Rockies. Not to mention what lay above those legs.

Why did she hide herself behind thick makeup and horrible glasses? And all those clothes? He wished he knew.

No. No, he didn’t. That would mean he was thinking of getting involved, and he wasn’t. What his nanny thought or did was none of his business, as long as she took good care of Melissa and left him out of it.

Way out of it.

Invigorated by this reinforced decision, he engrossed himself in work and was deeply involved with a new design when there came a light rap at his door.

And then another.

And another.

A continuing series of knocks, never letting up.

Nikki wouldn’t dare do that, nor would anyone in the building, which made Sean groan, because he only knew one person, one little person, one little
nightmare
person, who’d start knocking like that and not stop.

Melissa.

From the other side of the door came Carly’s voice. “Stop. I’m sure he heard you.”

“I heard you, all right,” he said after he’d opened the door, torn between irritation at the interruption and a surge of pleasure he didn’t want to analyze.

Carly stood there, huge glasses covering most of her face, her clothes baggy and shapeless as usual. “Hi.”

White panties,
came the unbidden thought.
Wet white panties.
He wished like hell he could get them out of his head.

She held Melissa, who wriggled and wriggled until she was set free.

“Uncle Sean!” Beaming from ear to ear,
Melissa threw herself at him, flung herself in the air, leaving him no choice but to catch her before she hurt herself. “I missed you!”

Suffering her exuberant and very wet kiss, he glanced at Carly. He had a million things to do, but his nanny had a look he distinctly recognized.

High-level stress.

“Come home with us now,” Melissa demanded, cupping his face in her little hands, forcing him to stop looking at Carly and to look directly at her. “I want you to be with us.”

“I can’t. I have work.” Work was good. Work was great. Work was what he wanted.

Carly smiled apologetically. The neat woman from her interview yesterday was gone. Her hair looked ravaged. Her clothes were wrinkled. And she seemed to be wearing a good part of Melissa’s lunch. But most curious, was her barely subdued sense of…panic?

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Carly looked embarrassed. “We had a long day and—”

“We burned the toast,” Melissa announced, helping herself to the jar of chocolate kisses on his desk.

“Breakfast,” Carly murmured. “Didn’t come out too good.”

“Neither did lunch,” Melissa added.

“We didn’t burn it, at least.” Carly gave a tight smile. “The cake collapsed, that’s all.”

“Yep. Calaps,” Melissa told him, pleased to be in the know. “But don’t worry, we had clean-up time. And then we made play dough from itch.”

“Scratch,” Carly corrected.

“Scratch. It stuck to the pot. Set off the fire alarm.” Melissa sent Sean a chocolately smile. “Mrs. T called the fire department, and two big trucks came! So then we drove here.” She grinned and spread chocolate on some of his papers. “Carly said we could.”

“Quite the day,” Sean murmured to Carly, who bit her lower lip and pressed her thick-rimmed glasses to her face.

“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s been a long one.”

He might have commented further but caught sight of Melissa climbing on his desk. “Try to keep those chocolate fingers off the plans, okay?”

“Okay!” But she had to lean over them to grab more of the kisses, which meant at least two more handprints.

Sean gritted his teeth and rolled the plans up.

“I hope you don’t mind us showing up,” Carly said as Nikki came into the room to offer drinks. “But…”

But she was exhausted, that was clear. Sean took pity, because he knew better than anyone the kind of exhaustion Melissa could provoke. He’d been living it for days before Carly had showed up to save his life.

But he did have to wonder at his supposedly
experienced
nanny. She had a résumé and references he had checked out, yet she wasn’t acting so experienced.

Still there were those huge blue eyes of hers, magnified by those glasses. “It’s okay,” he heard himself saying. “I don’t mind visitors.”

Nikki stopped short of opening a soda and gaped at him. “Since when?”

“I could use a break,” he said raising his eyebrows in such a way as to tell his nosy assistant he was trying to spare Carly’s feelings.

“You hate breaks,” Nikki said.

At Sean’s glare, she rolled her eyes and vanished.

“Sean? You sure?” asked Carly.

No, he wasn’t sure at all, but she looked so…desperate. And that little doubt came
back, just a little niggle of it, but it was enough to disturb him.

Who was she, really?

Very uneasy that maybe she hadn’t been completely honest with him, he took a big mental step back. His ex hadn’t been honest, and that had nearly destroyed him. Now he had Melissa to think about, though what else could he do? He had very carefully and thoroughly checked Carly’s references.

It had to be his attraction to her that bothered him.

“Uh-oh,” Melissa said suddenly from the corner. She’d punched too many buttons on the fax machine, and paper started spitting out of it.

While he and Carly went closer, Melissa backed away. She fed Sean’s discarded sandwich to the computer through its disk drive.

It started to smoke.

The fire alarm went off.

“Not again!” cried Melissa, covering her ears.

“Dammit!” Sean roared brilliantly.

Nikki came racing in, took one look at the disaster zone and brought her hands to her mouth to cover her shocked laugh.

“I can fix it,” Carly assured them, fanning
air in front of the smoke detector until it stopped. Then she bent to the disk drive, which was making a funny noise.

Melissa’s bottom lip continued to quiver. Then she opened her mouth and let out a sharp, earsplitting wail.

Sean struggled with his temper, overcome with the urge to strangle his sister for putting him in this position in the first place. Melissa belonged with her mother, not with him.

And then there was his nanny, who at this very moment was bent over his computer, glasses slipping down her nose, her huge sweater nearly falling off her creamy shoulders as she worked on his computer.

What kind of a nanny knew how to fix computer hardware? And why was he fighting a very male, very base urge to lean close and suck on that shoulder?

He took a deep, dragging breath and looked at Melissa, who was still crying. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

Eyes full, she blinked at him. A hiccup racked her belly.

“I’m
really
sorry,” he added.

She studied him, then lifted her arms. “Hug.”

“Melissa—” But she was already crawl
ing up his body, forcing him to do as she’d demanded and hug her. In his arms, she felt little and defenseless. Sweet.

And he’d scared her.

He felt about two inches tall.

“Love you, Uncle Sean,” she whispered, yawning widely, setting her head on his shoulder.

Sean’s throat tightened. “Love you, too.”
Make that one inch tall.

But then Melissa lifted her head, clutched her stomach, turned a distinct shade of green and said, “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Oh, dear.” Carly looked over at them. “How many chocolates did you eat?”

“All of them.” And then threw up all over him.

T
HAT NIGHT
,
Carlyne locked her bedroom door and sank to her bed with a grateful whimper before so much as removing her shoes.

She needed to take off the heavy, itchy wig, remove her colored contacts and strip down before she fell asleep, but she could hardly move.

Despite her utter failure today, despite her exhaustion, she felt…happy. The work was harder than anything she’d ever done, yet it exhilarated her to be stretching herself.
Trying
at something.

Baffled at that, and more than a little confused about why she wanted to work like this when she didn’t have to, she rolled over and dove through her bag for her cell phone, which she’d turned off when Sean had hired her. She turned it on. It was late, but that was her fault. She’d let Melissa sample the homemade play dough that morning and then a million or so chocolate kisses at
Sean’s office. Was it any wonder the poor child had gotten sick all over him?

Then again in his car on the way home?

And once more in the living room?

Sean had been pretty gracious about the whole thing, really. He hadn’t yelled again, though she could tell he’d wanted to. Instead, he’d scooped up Melissa—careful to hold her at arms’ length—and had assured her she was okay.

Melissa had taken one look at him and had listened. She’d calmed down. She’d even wanted to hug him again, but Sean had managed to avoid that without hurting her feelings.

Just watching the two of them, Carly had felt that strange tightening in her throat. They didn’t seem to know the particulars of what their relationship entailed, especially Sean. But he’d never walk away.

Had she really compared him to the men in her family?

She’d been wrong, very wrong. Her parents had rarely been around, certainly not when she’d been sick. It was something she’d always ached for when she’d been hurting—warm, secure, loving arms. She’d rarely gotten them.

Melissa had no idea how lucky she was.

“Poor little rich girl,” Carlyne berated herself, pushing away the melancholy memories. No one in their right mind would spare a moment of pity for her.

On her cell phone, she punched in the numbers she knew by heart. “Francesca,” she said the moment her assistant answered groggily. “How are you?” she asked in their native French.

“How am I? Terrific. You, on the other hand, you have problems.” Francesca never held back to spare Carlyne’s feelings, which was the biggest reason they were so close. “In fact, let me list them for you. You’ve run away from home….”

“I did not.” Carlyne glanced at her still-shut door and lowered her voice. Wouldn’t do to get caught speaking French. “Look, we discussed this when I called you yesterday. I’m all grown up, Francine, so it’s entirely different when I go away. I’m…on vacation,” she said, unwilling to try to explain the mission she was on.

“Uh-huh. Vacation. Without any money, without a car, without—”

“Look, I didn’t call for a lecture. I could have called
home
for that.”

“Speaking of which, you might want to
actually try that. Your parents have called looking for you. So has your cousin.”

“Yeah, only because they need me for something or another. It’s not as if they miss me.”

Francesca went quiet for a moment, and Carlyne winced at how pathetic she’d sounded. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

“What’s the matter? You sound different.”

She
was
different. She was
Carly
here, not Carlyne.

“Carlyne? Your mother is worried about that banquet you’re putting on for the international press.”

Heaven forbid her mother would call just to say hello. “Tell her everything is done. I’ll earn her thousands for all those charities.” And she would. It was Carlyne’s specialty, coaxing rich people to part with their money.

“And your grandfather—”

“Needs something, too, no doubt. Francesca.
Help.
”

“What do you need? A way to get home? I can come myself, or send—”

“No, I don’t want to leave.” Not yet. She’d wanted a break from her life. A
glimpse at how everyone else lived. Well, she’d had more than a glimpse. No one knew her. No one treated her like glass. No one expected cool sophistication and smooth elegance. No one expected her to be anything or anyone other than Carly.

She wanted more of that.

“The help I need is different,” Carlyne said. “Francesca, if your sister had a kid, and she went off and left you with that kid for a couple of weeks because she had a job, would you watch after it?”

“Of course,” Francesca said immediately.

Of course. That simple. Unconditional love. No question, no hesitation. “I wouldn’t have said ‘of course,”’ Carlyne admitted quietly. “A few days ago I would have spent however much money it took and shipped the kid off for full-time care. And I probably wouldn’t have given it another thought.”

“Well, you’re not exactly experienced in matters of the heart,” Francesca said gently. “But while we’re on that, I think maybe it’s time for you to come clean.”

“Clean?”

“With Sean. Carlyne, we talked about this already, remember? When you had me get your references. We agreed Sean should know who you really are.”

“No, you agreed and I yessed you.”

“Carlyne.”

“Okay, yes, he should know.” She sighed, lay back and stared at the ceiling of her perfect, cozy little bedroom. “I’m just not ready to tell him yet.” She looked out the window into the night, saw the flash of someone swimming in the pool. A strong arm. A long, powerful leg. A smooth, muscled back.

Her stomach tightened. “Not quite yet,” she said softly.

Beneath the shimmering moon, Sean executed a somersault turn at one end of the pool and continued swimming with even, powerful strokes. “I’ve got to go,” she whispered.

“But—”

“I’ll call you again.”

“See that you do. I’m worried about you.” Across the miles Francesca let out a sigh. “Think about it, Carlyne. Think about how he’ll feel when he does find out, on his own.”

Sean’s arms propelled his body through the water. “He won’t.”

“Why? Because you’re unrecognizable?” Francesca laughed. “You’ve been dodging the paparazzi since you could walk, Carlyne. It’s only a matter of time before you
mess up or he gets a clue. Then he’ll know your little secret, and I don’t see him being happy at being made a fool, no matter what your intentions.”

“It won’t matter to him.”

“It won’t matter that he has a princess baby-sitting for him?”

“That title is nothing but froth.”

“But it is your title.”

In the water, Sean slowed slightly, his only sign of tiring. He’d finish soon and haul that leanly muscled body out of the water.

Carlyne wanted to watch. She wanted to be front and center. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if he discovered her true identity. “I’ve got to go, Francesca.”

“Just think about it, okay?”

“I will.”

“Call me every day.”

“I will. Bye.” Instead of pulling off her disguise, as she’d been waiting all day to do, Carlyne opened her door and let in the cool, California night air.

Then she walked toward the pool.

When she was on the edge, she sat, careful to tuck her skirt beneath her this time so Sean couldn’t reach for a leg and pull her in. But the memory of him doing just that the night before, of his large, still damp hand
sliding up her ankle to grip her calf, altered her breathing.

He stopped swimming. Treading water in the middle of the pool, he looked at her with an intense but unreadable expression.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Where’s your bathing suit?”

No greeting. No recriminations for destroying his office. Just where’s your bathing suit. Her breathing quickened all the more because she could only imagine what would happen beneath the starless night sky if she’d put it on.

If she was really Carly.

But if she followed through with this crazy attraction, he’d discover the truth about her. Never again would he look at her the same. She knew this for a fact, because in her life, it had happened over and over again.

She had two kinds of acquaintances. The people who wanted to know her simply because of who she was and the kind who, once they found out, were too full of awe and disbelief to maintain any honest relationship at all.

That would happen here, too, and at the thought, her heart ached.

Caught by her own trap. Her own doing.

How had this happened?

This was supposed to be an escape. A little interlude in her life.

Only now she realized how others would be affected. Melissa.

Sean.

“Carly?”

God, that name. It represented all she wanted to be, open and free to do as she pleased. The opposite of Princess Carlyne Fortier, a woman tied by the bonds of responsibility and duty. “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

An odd mix of disappointment and relief crossed his face. “We could buy you one.” He put two hands on the edge of the pool and with a flex of muscles that stole her breath, effortlessly pulled himself out of the water. Wet skin glimmered in the pale moonlight, and from the erotic position of sitting at his feet, she watched drop after drop run down the length of his body.

And what a body it was.

“Carly?”

She realized he’d said her name at least twice, and that he held out a hand.

Slipping hers in his, she let him pull her to her feet.

“About today,” he said quietly, not letting
go of her hand, his intense gaze holding hers prisoner. “You seemed to be having a little trouble handling Melissa.”

Oh, God, he
had
noticed. “I’m sorry about your office,” she said.

“It survived.”

Barely.
“Yeah. Nikki is great, you know. She helped me clean up.” Carlyne grimaced. “And then asked me not to visit you at work anymore.”

“Sounds like Nikki.” He grabbed his towel and started to dry off. “So…what happened?”

“It’s new to me, Melissa’s age.” Sidetracked, she watched him dry his chest, his legs. “She’s…very active.”

He went still. “Too active?”

“No. No, I can do this. I know I can.”

He straightened and tossed the towel aside. “Melissa said so, too. She said you’re nice. The highest compliment, really, as she doesn’t like many people these days.”

He’d asked Melissa about her. Was it because he worried he’d made a hasty decision? Or was Carlyne unconsciously transmitting her own doubts?

“One thing I keep wondering about.” He stepped a little closer. “You know computers. You were able to put mine back together
with nothing more than a screwdriver and your wits.”

Another degree and another special talent of hers. But it wasn’t a passion, and it bored her.

“So how does a nanny know so much about hardware?”

“Oh, I picked up a little here and there.”

There was a stray strand of hair in her face. Not her hair, it was the wig, but Sean reached out and touched it, tucked it behind her ear.

Too close, she thought with a hitch in her breath that had everything to do with his nearness, and she backed up a step.

His hand, still hovering, abruptly dropped to his side. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have touched you.”

“It’s okay.”
Do it again. Kiss me.

His eyes smoldered. “What?”

Oh God, she’d spoken out loud, but before she could say a word—and really, what could she say when she’d spoken the utter truth—Sean let out a rough laugh. “I must be crazy to give you a chance to change your mind.” He slipped a hand around her waist, his fingers stroking low on her spine, urging her even closer. His other hand curved
around her neck, his fingers playing with the sensitive skin at her nape.

And his mouth, his beautiful, sexy mouth slowly descended to hers in a kiss that instantly stole her breath. He was still wet, enough that when she pressed herself against his tough, hard body, she became wet, too.

His hands molded her damp clothing to her body as he slid them over her, touching her waist, her ribs, cupping her bottom so he could rock against her.

And all the while, he continued to kiss her, using his lips, his tongue, even his teeth, nibbling and sucking her to such a mindless state that she might have given herself away if he hadn’t pulled back, breathing harshly.

“What else about you is going to be a surprise?” His mouth was wet from hers. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

“N-nothing.”

“I doubt that. All I know is what you had on your résumé, and what your references were able to tell me about your capabilities. Not much, really.”

And all fabricated. Which meant he really knew nothing about her.

“Carly?”

That name again, and she winced before
she could stop herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, willing him to understand. “I…don’t like to talk about myself.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something tense and uncertain, but then it was gone, and he sent her a tight smile. “Me, either.”

An impasse. Good. And though it wasn’t what she wanted, she bent for his towel, handed it to him and walked away.

S
HE WOKE UP EARLY
. Or more accurately, got out of bed early, as she hadn’t slept much.

Sean was beginning to doubt her. Which meant she was definitely on borrowed time. But she wasn’t ready to give it all up, not yet.

She donned the robe and slippers she’d purchased at her special store. The robe was terry cloth and itchy. The slippers, the only ones she could find in her size, had a bunny on each. “Classy,” she said into the mirror.

Feeling very middle America, she walked outside to get the morning paper.

“Psst!”

Mrs. Trykowski, her dyed-red hair rolled in green curlers, her short, heavy body in a zebra-print, faux-silk robe, was waving wildly. “Yoo-hoo!” she cried, in a single
bound leaping over the bushes that separated the yards. “Good morning, Carly!”

Startled, Carlyne dropped the paper.

“I’m so glad I caught you,” Mrs. T said when she’d reached Carlyne. “I wanted to tell you…first of all, that dark hair just isn’t you.”