The Nanny Solution. Teresa Hill

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      Only five blocks from Audrey’s daughter.

      She hated Audrey at the present, but she was still here.

      Audrey hadn’t dreamed of being able to be that close to Andie. She never could have afforded it on her own.

      “Okay, I’m ready,” Audrey said, glancing at her watch. She had to go.

      “Relax,” Marion told her. “Breathe. He’s not an ogre, and he’s not brusque. Not really. Just rushed. Always rushed. Don’t waste his time. Don’t chitchat. He hates it when people do that. And don’t kiss up to him. He hates that, too.”

      “Does he like anything?” Audrey asked, even more nervous now.

      “Peace. He told me he just needs some peace and quiet, and you can give him that.” Marion looked like she’d surprised even herself. “Maybe the nun outfit was a good idea after all.”

      Audrey’s hand gripped the steering wheel like a woman facing near-certain death.

      Much as she desperately wanted to see her daughter, she hated coming to this part of town. In fact, she didn’t come here. Dreaded facing the people here.

      Well, she’d just have to get over that.

      Because Audrey’s ex-husband wasn’t really interested in being a father anymore, even if Andie was living with him now. Andie would figure out that she really couldn’t count on her father before long, and then…

      She’d have to turn back to her mother, wouldn’t she?

      Audrey was counting on it.

      Honestly, time and proximity were her only hope.

      Andie might not forgive her, but she’d need a mother, and Audrey intended to be as close as possible when that happened.

      Which meant, she needed this job.

      She took the turn onto Maple Street, gripped the steering wheel so hard she was surprised it didn’t snap in two as she passed the entrance to her old neighborhood, then heard nothing but her own heart pounding in her ears.

      Breathe, she reminded herself.

       You’re not that woman anymore, Audrey.

       Not that wounded.

       Not that angry.

       Not that self-destructive.

      The pounding eased just a bit.

      Nineteen years of careful, predictable, perfectly acceptable behavior, building a good life, what she thought was a reasonably good marriage and a mostly happy family, and she’d thrown it all away in a fit of outrage and bewilderment last fall after her husband walked out on them.

      It was as if the nineteen years counted for nothing, and all that she was was the woman she’d become in those raw, painful days and nights. While her husband walking away from her and Andie seemed perfectly acceptable.

      Audrey closed her eyes again, breathing.

       You‘re not that woman anymore.

      At the end of the block, she turned into the older, more traditional neighborhood of Highland Park. She’d known a bit of what to expect from living nearby for so long. But as she got closer, she realized that Simon Collier lived in the really fancy, older section of the neighborhood, in which the homes were practically estates.

      Wow.

      Impressive.

      She was surprised he hadn’t put up a wall with a gate at the entrance, as some of his neighbors had.

      The house was a huge, imposing structure of weathered gray stone soaring three stories high, the grounds extensive, if a bit…unkept-looking here and there.

      She drove up the long, winding driveway and parked outside the two-story, four-car garage, got out of her car and looked at her watch.

      Right on time.

      In fact, she was all of two minutes early.

      Cutting it too close for comfort, actually, but she’d nearly panicked trying to get out the door at Marion’s, and it had slowed her down.

      Precisely at 7:00 a.m., the first bay of the garage opened, and standing there beside a sleek, black Lexus convertible stood a man in an elegant, crisp, dark suit, white shirt, blue tie, shoes polished until they shined.

      Simon Collier, she presumed.

      It was a little scary how he appeared out of the darkness of the garage with the precision of a magician just as the big hand on her watch ticked onto 7:00 a.m.

      Still, neat trick.

      It helped her to smile just a bit, despite feeling as if she wanted to throw up. As she walked forward, she decided her best bet was pretending he was a very important client of her ex-husband’s, coming to dinner at their home, and it was up to her to make sure he felt comfortable and had a good time.

      She stuck out a perfectly manicured hand—her one beautyvice left—and said, “Mr. Collier? I’m Audrey Graham. Nice to meet you.”

      He took her hand and looked as if he approved, most likely of her promptness and that she’d made no attempt to chitchat, if Marion knew him as well as she claimed to.

      Audrey was still just trying to breathe normally.

      Her eyes finally adjusted from the brightness of the morning sunshine to the shadows of the garage, and she realized he was a breathtaking man.

      He was beautifully dressed, the suit obviously cut to hug a perfectly proportioned body, handsomely groomed, his hand strong and sure as it gripped hers for a moment, then withdrew. He had jet-black hair, still thick and full, perfectly tamed, dark eyes with little lines at the corners and a polite smile. He managed to look elegant, pampered even, and yet most thoroughly a man.

      Younger than she’d expected, too. The more her eyes became accustomed to the light, the better and younger he looked.

      She’d never expected this, given the neighborhood where he lived, the way Marion talked about him with something akin to awe and getting the definite impression that the man was worth a lot of money.

      Sixty and balding with a potbelly would have been just fine with her.

      Great, even.

      But not this.

      “Ms. Graham. You’re right on time. Good. I’m sorry, but I have very little time this morning, which is almost always the case. We should get right to this.”

      “Of course,” she agreed.

      “I have four problems in my life right now, Audrey. May I call you Audrey?”

      “Please,” СКАЧАТЬ