Prince Daddy & the Nanny. Brenda Harlen

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СКАЧАТЬ a quick curtsy before she turned back toward the door.

      “Caridad—”

      “Yes, Your Highness?”

      “What is your impression of Miss Castillo?”

      Her eyes widened. “I’m not sure I understand why you’d be asking that, sir.”

      “Because I value your opinion,” he told her honestly. “During the summers that I spent here as a kid, you were always a lot more of a mother to me than my own mother was—which makes you Riley’s honorary grandmother and, as such, I’d expect you to have an opinion of her new nanny.”

      “We’ve only spoken briefly, sir, I’m certainly not in any position—”

      “Quick first impressions,” he suggested.

      “Well, she’s not quite what I expected,” Caridad finally admitted.

      “In what way?”

      “She’s very young and … quite attractive.”

      He didn’t think Hannah was as young as Brigitte’s twenty-four years, though he could see why the housekeeper might have thought so. Brigitte had dressed more conservatively and she hadn’t been nearly as outspoken as the doctor’s niece.

      “Not that Brigitte wasn’t attractive,” she clarified. “But she was more … subtle.”

      She was right. There was absolutely nothing subtle about Hannah Castillo. While she certainly didn’t play up her natural attributes, there was something about her—an energy or an aura—that made it impossible for her to fade into the background.

      “But I’m sure that neither her age nor her appearance has any relevance to her ability to do her job,” she hastened to add.

      No—the most relevant factor was her employment history, which he decided not to mention to the housekeeper. No doubt Caridad would wonder how he’d ended up hiring someone with a complete lack of experience, and he was still trying to figure that one out himself.

      “If I may speak freely …” Caridad ventured.

      “Of course,” he assured her.

      “You should spend more time around young and beautiful women and less behind your desk.”

      “Like the young and beautiful woman you ‘hired’ to help in the kitchen when you sprained your wrist last summer?” he guessed.

      “I wasn’t sure you’d even noticed,” she admitted.

      “How could I not when every time I turned around she was in my way?” he grumbled good-naturedly.

      “Maybe she was a little obvious, but I thought if I had to hire someone, it wouldn’t hurt to hire someone who might catch your eye.”

      “Caridad,” he said warningly.

      “Your daughter needs more than a nanny—she needs a mother.”

      The quick stab that went through his heart whenever anyone made reference to Samantha’s passing—even a reference as veiled as Caridad’s—was no longer a surprise, and no longer quite so painful.

      “And in a perfect world, she would still have her mother and I would still have my wife,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Unfortunately, this is not a perfect world.”

      “Four years is a long time to grieve,” she said in a gentler tone.

      “When Sam and I got married, I promised to love her forever. Is that time frame supposed to change just because she’s gone?”

      “Unless your vows were different than mine, they didn’t require you to remain faithful forever but only ‘till death do us part.’“

      “Could you ever imagine loving anyone other than Estavan?” he countered.

      “No,” she admitted softly. “But we have been together forty-one years and I am an old woman now. You are still young—you have many years to live and much love to give.”

      He glanced at the calendar on his desk. “I also have another quick call to make before lunch.”

      “Of course, Your Highness.” She curtsied again, but paused at the door. “I just have one more thing to say.”

      He knew it was his own fault. Once he’d opened the door, he had no right to stop her from walking through. “What is it?”

      “No one questions how much you loved your wife,” she told him. “Just as no one would raise an eyebrow now if you decided it was time to stop grieving and start living again.”

      He hadn’t been with anyone since Sam had died, almost four years ago. And he hadn’t been with anyone but Sam for the fourteen years before that. He’d loved his wife for most of his life. After meeting her, he’d never wanted anyone else—he’d never even looked twice at any other woman.

      But Caridad was right—Hannah Castillo was beautiful, and he’d found himself looking at her and seeing not just his daughter’s new nanny but a desirable woman.

      Thankfully the buzz of his BlackBerry prevented him from having to respond to the housekeeper. Acknowledging the signal with a nod, she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

      Michael picked up the phone, forcing all thoughts of Hannah from his mind.

      Lunch for the adults was pan-seared red snapper served with couscous and steamed vegetables. For Riley, it was chicken nuggets and fries with a few vegetables on the side. She eagerly ate the nuggets, alternately played with or nibbled on the fries and carefully rearranged the vegetables on her plate.

      Throughout the meal, Hannah was conscious—almost painfully so—of the prince seated across the table. She’d pretty much decided that she didn’t really like him, at least not what she’d seen of him so far, but for some inexplicable reason, that didn’t stop her pulse from racing whenever he was near. Remnants of her childhood crush? Or the shallow desires of a long-celibate woman? Whatever the explanation, the man sure did interfere with her equilibrium.

      Thankfully, he paid little attention to her, seeming content to make conversation with his daughter. Hannah found it interesting to observe their interaction, noting how alive and animated the princess was with her father. Certainly there was no evidence of the moody child who had banished her from the music room earlier.

      “Is there something wrong with your fish?”

      Hannah was so caught up in her introspection that it took her a moment to realize that the prince had actually deigned to speak to her. She looked down at her plate now, startled to notice that her meal had barely been touched.

      “Oh. No.” She picked up her fork, speared a chunk of red snapper. “It’s wonderful.”

      “Are you not hungry?”

      She was hungry. The muffin and coffee that had been her breakfast en route were little more than a distant memory, and the meal the housekeeper had prepared was scrumptious. СКАЧАТЬ