The Millionaire's Nanny Arrangement. Linda Goodnight

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      “I think this is about it for the evening, don’t you, sweetie?” she asked, gently closing the ancient-history book. “How about a game before bedtime?”

      “Chess?” Mariah asked.

      Kelsey thought if she lost another game of chess this week she’d die of humiliation. “How about something else? I think my brain needs a rest. How about—” She looked around for ideas.

      “Monopoly? I’m really good at that.”

      Kelsey laughed. “I’ll bet you are. Another tycoon in the making.”

      But she got the game out anyway, as eager for some fun as the child.

      They were in Mariah’s muted blue playroom which was more of an office than a fun place to hang out. The chest full of toys and games wasn’t opened until recess which occurred three times a day—fifteen minutes in the morning, immediately following lunch and mid-afternoon. The rest of the time was spent in study. After dinner each evening, Mariah could read or play educational games before an early bedtime. From morning until night, every minute of Mariah’s day was regimented as strictly as the military, which meant Kelsey’s day was, as well. No shopping excursions. No visits with neighbors. No opportunity to get reacquainted with her beloved native city.

      Frankly, she was suffocating.

      To make matters worse, she’d seen Ryan only once, for less than an hour, and Mariah hadn’t seen her father at all. The man was a workaholic to the extreme. He rose before either she or Mariah and returned long after Mariah, and sometimes she, had retired for the night. When he was at home, he disappeared into his office with a plate of food left by Abilena, not to be seen again that evening.

      Several times each day, he phoned to check on Mariah, but the calls were brief and to the point. “How are things going? Good. Need anything? No? Bye.”

      Mariah, bless her little heart, was a trooper about her father’s apparent indifference. Kelsey’s thoughts were not so generous.

      During the Monopoly game, Mariah paused time and again to listen for the garage door opening, the hope in her expression apparent.

      “Do you think Daddy will be here to tuck me in tonight?” she said, adding a hotel to Boardwalk.

      “He’ll have to hurry. It’s time for your bath now.”

      “What about our game?”

      “Let’s leave it to finish another time.”

      Mariah looked doubtful. “Janine never let me leave things out. She said I had to learn the importance of taking care of my possessions and not to take things for granted even if my daddy is rich.”

      Though the statement carried some truth, the manner in which it was said rankled. Had Janine been jealous of this child?

      “Tell you what. You get your bath. I’ll put the game in a safe place and then we’ll snuggle up and read in bed for a while. Deal?”

      Snuggle time was fast becoming a part of their routine that both of them enjoyed.

      “Deal!” Mariah’s brown eyes danced as she skipped off to the bathroom.

      After straightening the play room, Kelsey slipped into her robe and rejoined the sweet-smelling, freshly bathed child. Mariah was already in bed, her dark hair curled into squiggles across the pale pink pillowcase.

      Intentionally choosing a simple, silly, rhyming Dr. Seuss book, Kelsey joined her. Together they giggled and snuggled, talked and made up stories.

      When Mariah began to yawn and her eyelashes drooped for the third time, Kelsey pulled her close for a hug. She smelled of soap and shampoo and the cool essence of childhood.

      “Time for lights out, precious.”

      Mariah cast a longing look toward the doorway. “I guess Daddy got stuck at the office,” she said trying to rationalize why her father had not arrived. “He’s a very busy man.”

      “Would you like to give him a call? Tell him goodnight? I’m sure he’d like that.” She wasn’t sure of any such thing, but she could hardly bear the disappointment wafting in waves from Mariah.

      At the eagerness in the child’s face, Kelsey reached for the telephone.

      Ryan answered the cell phone on the third ring. “Is something wrong?”

      “Mariah wants to say goodnight.”

      “Oh. Sure. Put her on.” He sounded distracted. Not that she cared. Mariah was more important than whatever he found to do at this time of night.

      The father and daughter spoke for a couple of minutes. All the while, Kelsey watched Mariah’s face, listening to her sweet chatter, her delighted giggle at something Ryan said, and finally the wistful “I love you, Daddy” before returning the phone to Kelsey and snuggling down onto the pillow.

      “He’s nice,” she said with a smile before letting her eyes flutter closed against soft, round cheeks.

      Kelsey thought her heart would crack right in half.

      Mariah had no mother and an absent father. She had no friends or doting relatives that Kelsey had seen. Mariah Storm was truly a poor little rich girl. And her father didn’t have sense enough to see a problem. Either that or Mariah was an afterthought, a responsibility and nothing more.

      It was time to have a little heart-to-heart with the man of the year. And he probably wasn’t going to like it one bit.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      DOG TIRED, RYAN TOSSED his jacket and tie over a chair as he entered the town house, eager to flop down for an hour or so in front of the tube and think about nothing. The house was quiet and dark, as it always was when he arrived home. Only the hum of the refrigerator and the snick of the heating unit broke the silence. Mariah would be asleep by now. He’d sneak in later and grab a kiss.

      The nanny must have gone to bed early, too. At nearly six months along, she probably tired easily. Amanda had.

      He dashed that train of thought immediately and poured a glass of wine, his only concession to relaxation other than workouts in the basement of the office building. A gym for employees was one of the perks of working for Storm International. Healthy bodies translated to healthier work habits, better production and fewer sick days.

      Kicking off his shoes, Ryan collapsed in the overstuffed leather chair and pointed the remote. As a kid, he’d dreamed of the day he could say he was a millionaire. Others had erroneously considered him rebellious or lazy, but he’d been plotting the future, figuring angles and working his tail off while others slept.

      Lord, he was tired. But a man didn’t stay on top without working sixteen hour days. One slip and he’d be back in the slums again, grubbing for every dollar. The mere thought of returning to those days spurred him to work harder and harder. He would never allow Mariah to live the way he had as a youth.

      Setting his glass on the hexagonal table, he leaned his elbows on his knees and scrubbed both hands over his face. Maybe he should go on to bed. His day started early.

      “Ryan.”

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