Christmas Bride For The Boss. Kate Hardy

CHAPTER TWO

      WHEN JAMIE PULLED UP in the nursery school car park, Sophie asked, ‘Should I stay here in the car? Because then it won’t confuse anyone.’

      ‘In case Sienna decides she doesn’t want you to look after her? Good point.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

      He climbed out of the car, went over to the gate and spoke into the intercom, and then disappeared through the gate, shutting it behind him.

      Sophie read through Cindy’s file again while she was waiting for him to return with Sienna. The more she read, the more sure she was that things needed to change. Jamie was a workaholic, the way her own father had been, and he wasn’t seeing anywhere near enough of his daughter—which wasn’t good for either of them.

      A movement caught her eye and she looked up. She saw a little girl walking nicely down the path next to Jamie; obviously this must be Sienna. She was a pretty child, with a mop of curly blonde hair and her father’s dark eyes.

      She climbed out of the car and waited until Jamie and Sienna had reached her before crouching down so she was on the little girl’s level. ‘Hello. I’m Sophie,’ she said. ‘And you’re Sienna, yes?’

      The little girl nodded shyly.

      ‘Sophie’s going to spend the rest of the afternoon with us,’ Jamie said, ‘so you can get to know her a bit better and decide if you want her to look after you until Cindy’s leg is mended.’

      Again, there was a shy nod.

      Better start as I mean to go on, Sophie thought. ‘Would you like me to help you into the car seat?’ she asked Sienna.

      The little girl gave another nod, and Sophie’s heart squeezed. Maybe Sienna was just a bit shy, particularly as Sophie was a stranger. She really hoped that Sienna wouldn’t be this quiet once she’d got to know her; one of the joys of being an aunt was having a niece and nephew who chattered nineteen to the dozen to her and burst into song at the least provocation.

      She opened the rear door, helped Sienna get into the car, buckled her into the car seat and double checked it before climbing in next to her and buckling up her own seat belt.

      ‘So what did you do today at nursery school?’ Sophie asked.

      ‘Painting,’ Sienna said, her voice little more than a whisper.

      ‘That’s nice.’ Sophie had always enjoyed the painting activities when she’d worked at Anna’s nursery school. ‘Did you bring any of your paintings home with you?’

      Sienna shook her head.

      Maybe the nursery school staff had kept the paintings for assessment purposes. Sophie tried another tack. ‘Did the teachers read you any stories today?’

      ‘Ye—es.’ But Sienna wasn’t forthcoming about what the story was, or what her favourite book was, the way Sophie’s niece Hattie would be.

      Then again, a car wasn’t the easiest place to have a conversation with a small child. Sophie let the conversation lapse until they were back at Jamie’s house. Then she helped Sienna out of the car, and waited for Jamie to unlock the front door.

      ‘I’ll give you a quick guided tour,’ Jamie said. ‘Obviously this is the hallway.’ He took her through the downstairs, room by room. ‘Living room, dining room, playroom, my office, downstairs cloakroom, kitchen.’

      The house was beautiful, a large Edwardian villa with polished wooden floors, pale walls and windows that let in plenty of light; but it felt more like a show-house than a home. There were no pieces of artwork from nursery school held to the fridge by magnets or pinned to a cork board in the kitchen; there were no family photographs anywhere, either. And Sophie had never seen such a tidy playroom in her life. It made her wonder if Sienna was even allowed to touch her toys, or maybe there was a strict rule about only playing with one thing at a time.

      This definitely wasn’t a normal home. Even though her own father had put his job first, last and in between, her mother had made sure to give all three children her time and affection.

      Then again, Sienna didn’t have a mother to balance out her father’s drive for work.

      ‘I’ll make us a drink,’ Jamie said when they reached the kitchen. ‘Coffee or tea?’

      ‘Coffee would be lovely, thanks. Just milk, no sugar.’

      ‘Would you prefer a cappuccino or a latte?’

      ‘As long as it’s coffee, I really don’t mind. Whatever’s easy,’ she said.

      ‘Fair enough.’ He made two mugs of coffee via a very posh coffee machine and poured milk into a plastic beaker of milk for Sienna. ‘I’ll be in my office if you need me,’ he said.

      Obviously she and Sienna needed to spend time together so they could get to know each other, but this felt almost like an excuse for him to avoid the little girl. Or maybe she was being unfair to Jamie.

      ‘Shall we go into the playroom?’ she asked Sienna.

      The little girl nodded.

      In the playroom, Sienna agreed to do some drawing and colouring together. Sophie couldn’t help noticing how the little girl coloured very carefully, making sure she stayed within the lines, and used pastel colours. So different from her exuberant niece Hattie, who always picked the brightest colours and wasn’t in the slightest bit concerned if she coloured over the lines. The little girl reminded Sophie of herself as a child, desperate for her father’s approval and never quite getting it.

      ‘How about a story?’ she asked.

      Again, Sienna was quietly acquiescent.

      ‘What’s your favourite story that Daddy reads to you?’ Sophie asked.

      ‘Cindy always reads my bedtime story,’ Sienna said.

      ‘Okay.’ Sophie’s sister-in-law Mandy had been very eloquent about the benefits of having a male role model reading to children, so her brother Will always read to Hattie and Sam at night. Maybe if she told Jamie, he might consider reading to Sienna. But, as her sole parent, why wasn’t he doing that already?

      Sophie read a couple of stories to Sienna, scooping the little girl onto her lap and persuading her to join in with some of the words. And when she made a tremendous pause before the last repetition of a refrain in one particular book, she was finally rewarded with a giggle from Sienna.

      ‘What would you like for dinner tonight?’ she asked when they’d finished the story.

      ‘We always have chicken nuggets on Monday,’ Sienna said.

      Sophie remembered seeing the menu plan in Cindy’s file. Just to check that her suspicions were correct, she asked, ‘Does Daddy have chicken nuggets, too?’

      ‘Daddy doesn’t have dinner with me. He’s usually still at work.’

      ‘So Cindy has dinner with you?’

      She nodded. ‘In the kitchen.’

      ‘Well, Daddy’s home today, so he can eat with you and me. And we don’t have to stick to eating chicken nuggets just because it’s Monday. Let’s go and see what’s in the fridge, shall we?’

      Just as Sophie had hoped, Jamie clearly had either asked the temporary nanny to do a grocery shop the previous week or he had his groceries delivered. The fridge was half-full of fruit and vegetables; there were a couple of chicken breasts and a packet of minced beef. There were also a couple of supermarket ready-prepared meals, which told her that Jamie didn’t bother cooking for himself in the evening and just shoved something into the microwave to heat through.

      ‘Do you like spaghetti Bolognese?’ she asked.

      Sienna nodded.

      ‘Good. That’s what we’ll have for