Professor and The Pregnant Nanny. Emily Dalton

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      Above the clamor and conversation of the children, who were excited to have access to Daddy again after he’d been shut away all day, an adult conversation would have been difficult, and Melissa looked too tired to keep up her end of it, anyway. So Charles ate and enjoyed the food Melissa had prepared while listening to the children’s detailed description of all they’d done that day.

      No wonder she was tired! They’d done a lot. They’d made play dough, then shaped it into animals, made a zoo fence out of popsicle sticks and glue, colored and sprinkled glitter on cards for Mrs. Butters’s eventual return, practiced writing their names on the little chalk board in Christopher’s room, and gone swimming in the blow-up pool on the shaded patio.

      Charles gazed at Melissa with wonder as he listened to this amazing chronology. On top of all that, she’d cooked and cleaned and done some laundry, too…he could hear the dryer going.

      As soon as the children were done, Charles gave them permission to watch a video and put Christopher in charge of inserting the tape and turning on the television. He left the kitchen with his chest puffed out importantly, his little brother and sister in tow. Daniel was sucking his thumb, a sure sign he was already getting sleepy.

      “The meal was delicious,” Charles said, as soon as he and Melissa were alone in the kitchen. “Just thought I’d tell you, since you couldn’t possibly know from your own sampling of the food.”

      Melissa blushed and looked disconcerted. “Oh no. You’re wrong. I eat while I cook. I was full before I even sat down.”

      Charles propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I don’t believe you. Annette ate as much as I did while she was pregnant…sometimes more. She was always hungry. She said food just tasted better and it was obvious she enjoyed every bite. I loved watching her eat.”

      Melissa stared at Charles. Now it was her turn not to believe him. Brad would never have encouraged her to eat or have enjoyed watching her. He was too paranoid about her getting fat.

      “I’m just not hungry tonight,” she said finally.

      “Why don’t you just admit you’re too tired to eat?” Charles suggested.

      Melissa stared at her plate, anxiety welling up in her. He was right, but if she admitted he was right, would he think she was too pregnant for this job? She needed the money, but more than that, despite the physical work involved, she loved taking care of Charles’s children.

      “I’m not going to fire you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Charles continued. “Or maybe I should say, I won’t fire you under one condition.”

      Melissa’s gaze flew to his face. “What condition?”

      “I want you to take a nap every afternoon.”

      Melissa was speechless for a moment, then asked the obvious question. “What about the children? You said they normally don’t nap. What will they be doing while I’m sleeping?”

      “I’ll watch them for an hour every afternoon.”

      “But your—”

      “I’ll get my paper done. Don’t worry. You kept them so busy today, they’ll probably fall asleep before the sun goes down and I’ll have all this evening to work on the paper.”

      Melissa shook her head. “You’re being very considerate,” she said quietly. She wasn’t used to that.

      “Annette was pregnant three times. I know how tired women can get at this stage of a pregnancy. I really don’t mind helping out.” He slapped his hands on the table and stood up. “Which is also why I’m going to do these dishes and you’re going to go straight home.”

      Melissa sprang to her feet. Or at least she was in the process of springing to her feet, but found herself still sitting in the chair by the time Charles had risen and walked around to her end of the table. “I can’t let you do that!” she objected, peering up at him and marveling that he appeared even taller from this vantage point, which was on a level with his belt buckle. “Come on, Charles! I’m perfectly capable of washing a few dishes!”

      “Tomorrow you can wash dishes because you will have had your nap and have a little energy left by this time of the day. Tonight, Melissa, just go home.”

      Charles’s hands rested lightly on his hips, drawing Melissa’s gaze most reluctantly to the slim perfection of those hips. She also couldn’t help but notice his stomach, flat as a pancake even after a meal. Brad had been a physical marvel in high school and maintained his fitness as long as he played football in college, but after he was dropped from the team at the University of Utah for not keeping up his grades, he quickly developed a gut. Too much armchair football and beer.

      Melissa dropped her gaze to her hands, the fingers puffy and pink from dishwater and pregnancy-related water retention. She was indeed tired and there was no reason not to take Charles up on his offer. She was touched by his consideration, but also conflicted. She wanted to prove she could do the job, eight-and-a-half months pregnant or not!

      She had a stubborn streak that was sometimes a good thing, and sometimes not such a good thing. It was probably stubborn pride, along with a hefty portion of denial, that had kept her in her marriage for so long. She just didn’t like giving up.

      “Charles, it will only take a few minutes for me to do these dishes, so—”

      Melissa stood up, took a step, promptly tripped on something and fell into Charles’s arms. It was the only physical contact Melissa had had with a man in several months…except for hugs from her dad and her two brothers. But this was different. Very different.

      Charles grabbed her shoulders and gently returned her to her seat. “Whoa! You’re not fainting on me, are you?”

      “Of course not,” she said, embarrassed and angry at herself. Her heart was fluttering and racing like some lovesick teenager’s!

      “Then why—?” His face was very close to hers and his gaze—searching her eyes and face for pinpoint pupils and a waxy complexion, she supposed—suddenly dropped to her feet. “Oh! Your shoelaces are untied. You must have tripped on them.”

      Melissa could have explained why she had been unaware of her untied shoelaces, but it was just too mortifying to admit that she couldn’t see her feet unless she deliberately stuck them out in front of her. Simply looking down and seeing them where they usually were just wasn’t an option anymore.

      “Those darn things are always coming untied,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms awkwardly around her stomach to tie her shoes.

      “Let me do that,” Charles offered, getting down on one knee. He smiled up at her as he quickly and easily accomplished what took her plenty of heavy breathing to do. “Annette had trouble tying her shoes, too. And don’t get me started on pantyhose. It took her and me and a small crane to get her into those.”

      Melissa laughed. “Hey, I quit trying to get into pantyhose four months ago. It was when I went to—”

      Melissa stopped herself just in time. She was about to reveal that she’d last worn pantyhose when she met her lawyer at the Grand America Hotel for a fancy lunch to celebrate the signing of her divorce papers. It had been a great day and a great meal, СКАЧАТЬ