Regarding The Tycoon's Toddler.... Mary Wilson Anne

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      “Great. Now, what’s up with you?”

      He came over to the desk. “I was just going to update you on the nanny situation.”

      Matt didn’t look pleased as he dropped down in one of the two chairs by the desk. “I thought you said it was under control,” Zane said.

      “That turned out to be a bit of an overstatement. Rita’s on it, doing interviews, but it appears that none of the nannies that have been sent out so far from the agency is right for this situation.”

      He sat forward, elbows on the desk. “How can a nanny that’s trained to be a nanny not be right?” Zane didn’t have the patience for this right now. “What about that woman who showed up yesterday afternoon—the one I saw talking to Rita in the hallway by your office with that silly hat and sensible shoes? She looked like a real Mary Poppins type.”

      “More like Attila the Hun, according to Rita.” Matt leaned forward. “Listen, I don’t know one end of a kid from another, but Rita’s got three children. She knows what she’s doing. That’s why I asked her to take care of this for you. And she says that none of the applicants so far is acceptable.”

      “You trust her judgment?”

      “Implicitly.”

      Zane exhaled as he sank back in his chair. Strong fingers raked though his slightly long, brown hair, and his gray-blue eyes narrowed. “Then, let her do her job. We have until Monday. How hard can it be to find a glorified babysitter? I had a dozen nannies when I was a kid—and a nanny’s a nanny. My mother never had any trouble finding one.”

      “According to Rita, the first one was a ditz, another one thought that painting a child’s face blue and dancing in circles would free his spirit. Another older lady wasn’t up to the stress of a two-year-old. One was acting like a drill sergeant.”

      “Then came Attila the Hun?”

      “She was about number five, I think.”

      Zane clasped his hands behind his neck, lacing his fingers together and staring hard at the shadowy face of his friend. “How are you with kids?”

      Matt smiled immediately. “I told you, I don’t know one end from the other. I never go near the little people. I like the way they look from a distance, but I don’t like the way they act. Besides, I’m an attorney turned co-C.E.O.—at least, I was last time I looked.”

      “No chance of making an addendum to your job description?”

      “None. Rita’s got some interviews today, so she’ll probably hit upon someone who she thinks is right for the job. I just wanted to tell you this isn’t easy and it’s eating up a lot of time.”

      “Yeah, I know. And we don’t have extra time right now. Not with the Alberts group showing interest.”

      “That’s my point.”

      “Well, when Rita meets the kid’s flight on Monday morning, there has to be a nanny at the penthouse—a wonderful, intelligent, caring nanny who bears no resemblance to Attila the Hun.”

      Matt grinned at him. “This is crazy.”

      “Tell me about it.”

      The phone rang, and Zane reached for it. “Holden.”

      “Ron Simmons here. Have you got a minute?”

      “Sure, hold on,” he said, then hit the speaker button. “Okay, I’m here. Matthew Terrel’s in the office, too.”

      “Good. I need input on the figures you sent over. Is there any chance you can come by for half an hour, no more?”

      Zane looked at Matt, who shook his head. Zane sighed, then pointed to himself. Matt nodded. “Sure, your office?”

      “Yes, over on Grammercy. I’ll see if I can get someone from Alberts over, too.”

      “Great, see you as soon as I can get there.”

      He hung up, then sat back. “The first nibble on our offer.”

      Matt stood. “Let me know what happens,” he said, then headed for the door. But before he could leave, he turned. “Zane, it’s sunny out. Open the curtains.”

      “I’m leaving, anyway. Meet me back here after lunch, and we’ll talk?”

      “Sure, your office or mine?”

      “If the nanny candidates are meeting with Rita at your place, come on up here. We’ll have more privacy.”

      “Okay, see you then,” Matt said, and left.

      Zane rolled his sleeves down, buttoned the cuffs, then reached for his jacket and briefcase. He headed out of the office. As he passed the reception area, he stopped long enough to lay his briefcase on the desk and to talk to his secretary. “Cancel appointments for the next two hours and reschedule anything important.” He slipped on his jacket as he spoke. “Route any calls that you need to, to Mr. Terrel. Just hold down the fort,” he said as he checked his inside pocket for his gold pen and cell phone.

      He smoothed his vest, then picked up his briefcase, but before he could head back into the office to take his private elevator down, she stopped him. “Mr. Holden, all the elevators are down, even yours. One of the maintenance men just came in to say they’d be shut down for an hour.”

      “Oh, great.” He headed for the outside door and the stairwell beyond the useless elevators. At least it was all down for the twenty flights.

      Thursday

      THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY of her life, and it had been messed up for her before it even got going. First, the dream came again, taking away her sleep. Then when Lindsey had finally gotten back to sleep, she’d almost slept through the alarm. She’d been so preoccupied with the paperwork to present during her meeting with Zane Holden, she’d forgotten the only suit she owned was stained from finger paint and still at the dry cleaners. She’d missed her bus to work and had had to call a taxi—and the final blow had been the elevators.

      The future of Just For Kids was in her hands, and she was in the stairwell of the building trying to get from the sixth floor to the twentieth floor in five minutes. She hurried up, the envelope with her printout in one hand, her purse in the other. She prayed Mr. Holden would cut her some slack if she was a few minutes late.

      It was probably his doing that the elevators were down. “A servicing problem,” the maintenance man had told her when she’d stepped out of the day care center to head up to the corporate offices.

      “Service problem, my eye,” she muttered. It was Zane Holden’s cuts—him and his “lean and mean” program to make the company more viable.

      She’d agonized over her lists far into the night. She hoped she’d done them right. That they wouldn’t be so much that they’d put him off, but that they would be strong enough for her to get what the center needed. An echoing click of her heels rang with each step on the metal stair treads as she passed the landing for the fifteenth floor. Five more floors. A bit more time to go over in her mind what she was going СКАЧАТЬ