Out of Hours...Enticing the Nanny. Rebecca Winters

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       CHAPTER THREE

      WHEN Nick looked at her like that, Reese’s heart began thudding for reasons she didn’t dare explore right now.

      She followed him back to the living room. The floor-to-ceiling French doors at the end had been opened to reveal a dining room that took her breath. First came the chandelier of Czechoslovakian glass. One of this kind and size was a museum piece. She thought the same thing of the massive Italian provincial hutch that lined the far wall.

      Its shelving held handblown Venetian glass and stunning pieces of china no longer made. On the opposite wall was a long European hunt board with its distinctive stylized pheasants and peacocks. A still-life oil painting of fruits hung above it.

      The window featured tapestries with tassels pulled halfway down depicting various pastoral scenes. When she could tear her gaze away, it fell on the rectangular table of dark oak dominating the room. She counted sixteen chairs around. The exquisite woodwork was complemented by the upholstery fabric, a blend of rich green and cream striping on velvet.

      Two candelabras with lighted tapers flanked a breathtaking centerpiece of fresh flowers including creamy lilies and roses interspersed with greenery. The top of the beautifully carved table had such a highly polished surface, everything gleamed. Two places nearest the doors had been set where their dinner awaited them.

      She finally looked at her employer. “I’m afraid whoever dreamed up this masterpiece of a room didn’t have that swing in mind.” He’d set it on a gorgeous Persian rug at the corner of the table.

      “I have to give my wife credit for much of the apartment’s decor.”

      So they had lived here together. How painful this must be for him. “She had incomparable taste.”

      He took the baby from her and fastened him in the seat. “Let’s see if he likes this.” When he pressed the button, it started to swing and played “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush.” Jamie looked at his father. The baby acted happy and it brought a ghost of a smile to his father’s lips.

      Mr. Wainwright’s eyes unexpectedly narrowed on her features. “Your contribution to the room keeps it from feeling like a museum. Shall we eat?”

      Reese could imagine the apartment felt that way to him with his other half gone out of his life. But he had his adorable son staring up at him in wonder, as if his father was the whole world to him. That had to compensate for his loss.

      Leaving him to sit at the head of the table, she took her place at the side just as the song changed to another nursery rhyme. It played a medley of ten tunes.

      He removed the covers from their plates, sending a mouthwatering aroma through the room. “Help yourself to coffee or tea.”

      “Thank you, but I’ll just have water.” She poured herself a glass from the pitcher and drank a little before starting in on her food. “This roast chicken is delicious.”

      “I’ll tell the chef. He was plucked from a five-star hotel in Paris.”

      “The chicken or the chef?”

      His deep laugh disarmed her. “Touché.”

      She laughed with him. “It explains the buttery taste I love. I’m afraid I’m as bad as Julia Child. We think alike. Butter is the building block for good food.”

      His dark eyes flicked to hers. The candlelight reflecting in them made the irises look more brown than black. Until now she hadn’t been able to decide their exact shade. “You eat a lot of it out in Nebraska, do you?”

      “We Cornhuskers never heard of cholesterol,” she teased, laying it on a little thick. “In truth, all of us healthy farm girls thrive on it.”

      One dark brow shot up. “If I offended you, I didn’t mean to.”

      She smiled. “I know you didn’t. I was just having fun.”

      “That’s a refreshing quality of yours, Reese. Mind if I call you that?”

      His genuine warmth came as a surprise. She hadn’t expected a truly successful, wealthy CEO like him to be so well-rounded. It was probably that quality as much as his brilliant mind that drew people to him and made him such a paragon.

      “To be honest, I hate being called Ms. Chamberlain, Mr. Wainwright.”

      He smiled. “If that was more funning on your part, I still get the hint. Call me Nick.”

      “Thank you. I was afraid it wouldn’t happen for a while.”

      Another chuckle ensued. “Am I that impossible?”

      Reese was already too addicted to his potent charisma. “Not at all, but I’d like Jamie to know I have a first name. Ms. Chamberlain is kind of heavy for a ten-week-old.” She put her fork down. “Speaking of the baby, I know it looks like I bought out the store, but everything I purchased was for a reason. Of course I’ll take anything back you don’t like or find necessary.”

      “I’ll reserve judgment until tomorrow. We’ve worked hard enough today and need СКАЧАТЬ