The Nanny & Her Scrooge Page 13

  Although she’d carefully pressed her best pair of slacks and polished her shoes, when she’d looked in the mirror, she realized a dress would have been more appropriate. It was that five minutes of scrambling in the back of her closet that had doomed her.

  Jared would be furious, she just knew it. She poked at the curl again, determined to make it lie flat. It popped out like a corkscrew.

  Giving up, Nicki pushed up the sleeves of her cranberry-red dress, and wondered who would be there from the store that she knew. She worried about what they’d think—her working in the “big house” with Jared Gillette himself.

  Stepping into her pumps she tried to imagine how Jared would introduce her. He flat-out refused to use the word nanny, baby-sitter, or employee. How in the world was he going to explain her away? Especially with the “girlfriend” thing he’d concocted for his friends and his ex, in hopes of gaining custody.

  Friend? Companion?

  No, most likely as a playmate. Madison’s playmate. His playmate.

  Reminders of Jared’s last hot kiss, his splayed fingers pressing into her ribs, nudging into the heavy undersides of her breast, tumbled uninvited through her head.

  She grabbed her purse and rushed down the hall, fumbling with the clasp on her mother’s gold bracelet. She got to the landing and tripped.

  “Whoa!” Jared said, looking up. “You aren’t going to make that same entrance you did in my office a few weeks ago, are you?”

  Nicki colored. She gobbled the bracelet into the palm of her hand, and promised herself she’d deal with it later. Then, she took a deep breath, and assumed a regal air. “No. This staircase is made for a great entrance. I intend to take advantage of it. Just this once. To see what it feels like.” Trailing her hand down the banister, she took each step as slowly and gracefully as if she were performing in a beauty pageant. Something perverse surfaced in her, and she intentionally criss-crossed her legs, putting one ankle suggestively over the other, and going for the sexiest hitch in her get-along she could manage.

  Jared’s smile widened. “Magnificent,” he approved, and shook his head. “To think I once suggested you hire on as a bunny. You probably would look good in fur though…and nothing else.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  He lifted an unrepentant shoulder.

  She grinned and shed the facade. “I’m late.”

  “I know.” He pulled back his cuff, checking his watch. “Six minutes.”

  She offered him an apologetic glance. “I changed my clothes at the last minute.” Shaking the bracelet free, she concentrated on wrapping it around her wrist and fastening it. The clasp slipped again and she grimaced, the corkscrew curl practically poking her in the eye.

  Jared tucked the curl back against her temple. “Cute. This hair thing. To do it like that, I mean.”

  She lifted her eyes. “It was a mistake.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Some of the best things in life start out as mistakes.”

  It vaguely occurred to Nicki that it had probably been a drastic mistake to walk into his office to confront Jared over the Santa Claus issue. Look how things had turned out. She’d wound up attracted to him—physically attracted to him, she qualified—with no hope of a future and no reconciliation of her feelings. She laid the bracelet over her wrist again.

  “Here,” he intervened. “Let me.” He took the bracelet from her, and turned her wrist over, brushing his thumb across the sensitive blue-veined spot where her blood thrummed. Between his large fingers the clasp disappeared. She heard it snap. “Better?”

  “Much. Thank you.”

  But he didn’t let go of her wrist. “Let me look at you,” he said critically, pulling her slightly away. “I have to make sure this family, including the household staff, portrays the right image.” Nicki stiffened, moving back; Jared’s mouth twitched.

  “Is that how you’re going to introduce me, as your household staff?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it. But I don’t think anyone will have the gall to ask. Do you?” He lifted a devilish brow, and let her go. “Introductions aren’t my only concern right now, and being late isn’t the only glitch. I just got a call. Santa called in sick.”

  She shot him a questioning look. “What?”

  “We always have a Santa for the families and their kids. I think it’s silly, particularly when people only show up for their Christmas bonuses anyway. That, and the couple of turkeys we raffle off.”

  “Now that sounds jaded.”

  “But it’s true, and it’s tradition, and you can’t fight that. I tried a temp agency to see if we could get someone on short notice, but no luck. You and I’ll be passing out the gifts, I’m afraid.” He paused. “If you don’t mind.”

  The idea came to Nicki in a flash. “Wait a minute,” she said, “Santa Claus isn’t necessarily out of the question. I personally know someone who has a lot of experience.”

  Jared’s head swiveled.

  She offered up a slow, sly smile.

  “I thought we got you out of that profession,” he rumbled.

  “‘That profession’?” she repeated. “You make it sound like something decadent. Spreading a little cheer and bringing a little happiness is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “You can’t very well enjoy a night out if you’re parading around like…like…”

  “St. Nick,” she whispered, winking boldly.

  He stared at her. “If anyone finds out that I fired you, then had you fill in at the Christmas party—”

  Her hands went to her hips. “Jared Gillette. It’s no secret that you fired me. Oh. I get it. You’re letting your pride stand in the way of letting a few children sit on Santa’s lap.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I just can’t imagine you getting all trussed up with a dozen pillows, a moth-eaten costume, and then hanging some gnarly whiskers on your chin.”

  “And I,” she said softly, “can’t imagine anything better than having one last fling at the job that got me here in the first place.” They stared at each other. Jared debated; Nicki became more determined. “Hey,” she teased, “we’ll have some inside information if Madison tells me what she wants.”

  Jared snorted, but Nicki could see that the humor was wearing him down.

  “I’m only trying to do you a favor, because I want the party to be a success. For you. Can’t you just accept it?” She laughed. “I can’t give you much for Christmas this year, but I can give you that.”

  “Fine,” he muttered, “go ahead. I certainly don’t want to deprive anyone the chance of sitting on Santa’s lap.” He leaned closer to her, his breath tantalizing her cheek. “Maybe this is the year for me to have my photo taken with Santa, too.”

  “Be careful,” she warned, “you’d have to tell me what you want.”

  His gaze went heavy-lidded, unreadable, and his hand slipped to her waist. “I’ve always wanted what I can’t have,” he said thickly.

  Jared may have cursed the event as an inconvenience, but the party was nothing less than extravagant. Dinner and dancing, and activities for the employees’ children. Santa Claus came in as the grand finale.

  While Madison was in the kids’ corner with the balloonist, Nicki accepted Jared’s invitation to dance, and lost herself to his arms. There were times she could never get close enough to him, to the strength she felt in his arms, or the rounded hams of his shoulders. He swayed to the music and she wanted to melt into him, forging herself with him as one, moving in unison and letting the music forever envelop them. They moved to the back exit, and Nicki reluctantly pulled herself out of the lethargy Jared had created.

  “This is the best time for me to exit,” she murmured against his shoulder.

  “Mmm-hmm. Sure you want to do this?”

  “Of course.”

  He moved to the edge of the dance floor and Nicki reluctantly left his embrace, then slipped out the back door to where her costume waited. Inside the dressing room she meticulousl
y fluffed the pillows that had been laid aside for her, and buttoned herself into the red-velvet garb. Jared may have referred to the costume as flea-bitten, but it was anything but. The boots were too big, and heavily padded with foam. The belt was leather, the faux fur felt real.

  Wiping off all traces of makeup, she perched a pair of clear-glass spectacles on the bridge of her nose. With the beard, wig, and adhesive eyebrows she was transformed into a jolly old fat man. She practiced her “voice” while she yanked on her white cotton gloves.

  Then she ho-ho-ho’d her way into the ballroom.

  Children squealed, women smiled, and men indulgently moved aside. A hush fell over the crowd.

  Jared immediately came up to greet her, and shake her hand. “Santa! Good to have you,” he said.

  Only Nicki would be aware that he searched her face for recognizable features. Beneath her beard she smiled.

  “Glad to be here, Gillette,” she boomed, her voice dropping an octave. “Bit warmer here in Winter Park. Absolutely balmy compared to the North Pole.”

  “And how are things at the North Pole?” Jared inquired, playing along.

  Children had gathered around them, and Madison wriggled through the crowd to grab her father’s hand, and peer up at Santa Claus.

  “Busy. Toy orders a mile long. I’ve never seen such good boys and girls,” Nicki praised, significantly directing her attention to Madison.

  Madison frowned, and shrunk under her father’s arm, plastering herself to his leg.

  “And Rudolph,” Jared asked, “how’s he?”

  Nicki tsked. “Under the weather, and down with the sniffles. I’m sorry to say he had to stay home. He’s resting up for the big night. But he told me to tell everyone to be extra good, Christmas is coming!”

  Using that as his cue, Jared directed Nicki to the ornate chair set up for her on a platform. She shook hands along the way, addressing as many employees as she could remember. Some pulled her close and posed for pictures.

  The next hour was a blur. While Jared handed out Christmas bonuses and family gifts, she talked to the children. Madison covertly watched from the edge of the platform, and was the last to crawl up onto her lap.

  “Here’s Madison!” she announced. “Look at that camera over there,” she directed. “I think your daddy is going to want a picture of this.” Elves waved, and dutifully snapped the photo. “And what would you like for Christmas, Madison?” Nicki asked, bracing herself to hear about a great big stuffed teddy bear at the zoo’s souvenir shop.

  Maddy didn’t answer.

  “Have you been a good girl this year?” Nicki prodded.

  Madison tapped her black patent leather shoe against Nicki’s shin, then she sagged against her belly. “I tried my best.”

  “Let’s see,” Nicki said thoughtfully, “I have it on good authority that you helped around the house.”

  Instead of agreeing enthusiastically, Maddy only nodded. Her blue eyes were troubled, and she plucked at Nicki’s white gloves. “Santa…I don’t want any presents.”

  “What? A girl that doesn’t want presents?”

  “I only want to go home,” she confided, her lower lip trembling. “To my mom.”

  All the life went out of Nicki. She had no idea. None. Madison had never mentioned her mother, she’d never even said she missed her.

  “Presents don’t mean anything,” Madison went on earnestly. “It would be best if I just went back to my mom for Christmas.”

  “I haven’t had a request like that before, Madison. It’s something I have to think about. I usually deal in dolls, and trains, and video games.” She paused. “You really miss your mom, huh?”

  The only thing Madison didn’t miss was a beat. “Nope.”

  “Then, why….”

  Madison’s grasp tightened on her wrist. “Because nobody loves me. Nobody wants me around.”

  A sick feeling went through Nicki. All of the things Jared had done for this child: the room, the books and toys and clothes. He’d rearranged his life for her. He desperately wanted her back in his life—he even wanted full custody. “I think your daddy loves you very much,” she said quietly.

  “He says that, but he doesn’t mean it. Sometimes he yells at me.”

  “People who love you sometimes have rules. To make things fair, to make things better for everyone,” Nicki explained. “If your dad gets angry, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.” Madison listened, but wouldn’t look at Nicki. “Tell me about your mom. If you don’t miss her, why do you want to go back?”

  “I don’t know,” Madison said, running her finger along the seam on the back of Nicki’s glove. “My mom doesn’t want me, either, she wants Howie more. But with her, it doesn’t matter so much. She doesn’t care what I do, she yells all the time, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

  “So you’re used to it,” Nicki suggested. “Maybe you just need to get used to your daddy. I know you talked to him on the phone a lot when you lived in California.”

  Madison’s lower lip protruded. “Mommy said if Daddy really wanted me, he’d come and get me. But he just sent presents. My mom said presents didn’t mean anything. People give you presents when they can’t give you their heart. That’s what she said. Before she threw all the presents in the trash.”

  Nicki winced, from the inside out. “How has your visit with your daddy been so far?”

  “Okay, but…when I got here he gave me lots of presents—and then he went back to work. He said it was more important.”

  “I see.” She patted Madison’s back. “I think he meant that he’s always busy at the store…this time of year.”

  Madison shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I can take care of myself.”

  Nicki’s intuition told her the moment of insight was coming to a close. Madison would only share so much of herself and no more. Part of that was because she was confused about her family and where she fit into it. “Well, Madison, here’s the thing. I never forget what anyone asks for. I’ll have to see what I can do. But…getting you back to your mom is a big request. And I think there’s some kind of law about me transporting kids under the age of eighteen across state lines. I don’t have enough seat belts in the sleigh, so I couldn’t take you. It’s something you’d have to work out between your mom and your dad.”

  Madison’s face fell. “Could you talk to them for me?”

  Nicki took the plunge. “You know what? I’m going to mention it to your dad. But I have to tell you that most kids like to wake up Christmas morning and find presents under the tree. Maybe if you gave your daddy a chance, you could have a wonderful Christmas together.”

  Madison’s expression was positively forlorn. “It doesn’t matter. I just thought you could make things right, Santa.”

  “You know,” Nicki said absently, reaching across Madison and her working fingers, to pull her glove back up and over her bracelet, “I’ll see what I can do. Sometimes miracles do happen through the gift of Christmas. The thing about miracles, though, is that they’re not always what you expect.”

  After Madison was tucked into bed, Nicki and Jared went into the family room, to kick off their shoes and unwind after the party.

  With his back to her, Jared knelt on the hearth, and struck a match. He’d taken to starting a fire the last few nights. “So what did Madison ask Santa for?” Jared inquired, his back still to her.

  Nicki hesitated, watching the newspaper he’d jammed under the kindling catch and ignite. He’d be terribly hurt to learn Maddy wanted to go back to her mom. She couldn’t tell him, she simply couldn’t.

  “A miracle,” she finally, mysteriously, replied.

  “A what?” Jared half laughed, rising from the fireplace to look at her.

  “Don’t ask. Santa-client information is strictly confidential.”

  Jared groaned. “I know. The five-hundred-dollar bear, huh?”

  “I wish,” she muttered under her breath, pulling the afghan over her.

  The nights with
Jared, especially after Madison was in bed, had become so cozy. Sometimes they watched an old movie, sometimes they just watched the news. He’d started putting his briefcase away when she came downstairs to fill him in on the day, and then he’d started inviting her to stay—to enjoy the fire in the fireplace, or to share a mug of mulled cider.

  They’d maintained a polite distance, and they’d only spoken of inconsequential things, but it had become Nicki’s favorite part of the day. The time when she had Jared all to herself. When she could imprint his strong lean body on her memory, and taunt herself with the recollections, reminding herself of all the reasons he could never be hers.

  She yearned to make every moment with him unforgettable so that, when the time came, she would have something he could never take away from her.

  He moved behind her, to the telephone table, and she closed her eyes, imagining what he was doing, how he moved. Jared checked the answering machine; she imagined him listening, the way he cocked his head, the way the light would bounce off of his dark hair.

  “Jared,” the answering machine cut in, “it’s Sandra. We’re having a great time in Vegas. But, listen, I spoke to the lawyer yesterday and I’ve thought it over. I want the best for Madison, but she’s just too much for me. She’s such a—I don’t know—temperamental child. She’s got your stubborn streak. Anyway, I’m going to agree to your terms. You can have full custody. We’re thinking about spending some time in Mexico and are just going to let things happen for a while, so who knows how long we’ll be there. Who knows, we may stay forever. But I know you, you’ve got your life organized. You’ll find a place for Maddy in it. ’Bye. Wish me well.”

  Nicki pulled herself up off the sofa, into a sitting position. Her jaw had gone slack and the afghan puddled around her middle. She stared over the back of the couch at Jared.

  There hadn’t been as much as an inquiry about Maddy, not even a “Tell Maddy I love her.” Only “Wish me well.”

  Maddy was right: her mother didn’t want her.

  Jared’s head fell back, and an odd mixture of relief and fury shadowed his brow. He scrinched his eyes shut tight and shook his head, as if he didn’t know what to say or how to react.