The Nanny Who Saved Christmas. Michelle Douglas

‘What’s up?’

      Her racing pulse slowed as his expression filtered into her panicked brain. The denial in her throat died. She shook herself. This man didn’t see her as anything other than an employee. He certainly didn’t see her as an attractive, available woman. She might doubt her own strength, but she didn’t doubt his.

      She’d come here to toughen up, to face reality and get stronger. Lusting after her boss was not the answer.

      ‘Nicola?’

      She shook herself. ‘I just had one of those thoughts, you know? A bolt from the blue, but … Did I leave the oven on?’

      He leaned towards her. ‘What? In Melbourne?’

      She nodded.

      ‘And?’

      ‘No, I’m certain I turned it off.’

      He frowned. ‘You sure about that? You want to ring someone to check?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’m positive I turned it off.’

      With a shake of his head, he continued down the corridor. He flung open a door near its far end and strode into the darkened room to lift the blinds at the window. She followed him in, glanced around and her jaw dropped. ‘You have a home gym?’

      There was a treadmill, an exercise bike, a rowing machine and a weight machine. Oh, this would be perfect! She walked about the room, her fingers trailing across the equipment. ‘This is amazing,’ she breathed. ‘Is it okay if I use it?’

      ‘Sure.’ Then his face tightened up. ‘Someone may as well. I don’t think anyone has been in here, except to clean, since Fran left.’

      Fran?

      ‘My ex-wife and the girls’ mother,’ he said, answering her unspoken question.

      He didn’t smile. His face remained tight and it warned her not to ask questions. He obviously had his demons too. It took an effort of will not to reach out, though, and place her hand on his arm in silent sympathy. When he turned and left, she counted slowly to ten before she closed the door and followed him.

      ‘How was your day?’

      Nicola blinked and then lowered her knife and fork when she realised Cade had directed that question at her. It was nearing the end of her second full day at Waminda Downs and they were all seated around the kitchen table eating dinner. She and Cade had barely spoken since he’d shown her the home gym yesterday. ‘I … um … good. Thank you,’ she added belatedly. ‘And … uh … you?’

      He ignored that. ‘Have the girls given you any trouble?’

      ‘No!’

      ‘So … you’re settling in okay?’

      ‘Yes, of course.’ She glanced at Ella and Holly and a smile built inside her. The three of them had enjoyed a fabulous day. ‘Your daughters are delightful. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy their company.’

      One side of his mouth hooked up. ‘You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face.’

      Was it? She sat back. Maybe that was something she should add to her list of personal-attributes-to-work-on-and-improve. She didn’t want to be so easy to read. She didn’t want to wear her heart on her sleeve.

      She wanted to be coolly poised and self-possessed.

      ‘It wasn’t a criticism,’ he said quietly.

      Definitely something she needed to work on!

      She tried to smooth her face out into a polite smile. ‘I wanted to thank you for letting me use the home gym.’

      He shrugged her gratitude aside, but his eyes started to dance. ‘How’s the treadmill turning out? Managing to stay on your feet?’

      She nearly spluttered her mouthful of iced water across the table, but the grin he sent her made her laugh. ‘That was below the belt!’

      ‘I couldn’t resist.’ He took a long pull on his beer. ‘Have you been having any problems with any of the equipment? There must be instruction manuals somewhere around the place.’

      ‘It all seems to be in perfect working order. I might loathe it, but the treadmill is a cinch to operate and I don’t hate it as much as that darn rowing machine.’

      He stared and then he threw his head back and laughed. Harry chuckled. Ella laughed too, although Nicola suspected she had no idea what she was laughing at. She just wanted to join in. Not to be outdone, Holly let forth with a squeal

       Nicola Ann, must you sound so gauche?

      Inside, she cringed. She was supposed to be developing polish and self-possession, not blurting out the first thing that came into her head and sounding like an idiot, becoming the butt of the joke.

      Frustration built inside her. She clenched her hands so tight her fingernails bit into her palms. Why couldn’t she manage one simple thing—to think before she spoke? Was it really that hard?

      Failure. Loser. Doormat.

      The insults flew at her, thick and fast. Not just in her mother’s voice either. Her own was the loudest.

      She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. ‘I’m sorry, that came out all wrong. I just meant …’

      He raised an eyebrow. He’d stopped laughing but he was still grinning. That grin made her heart beat a little harder. It made it difficult for her not to grin back. She swallowed and lectured herself for the umpteenth time about dignity. ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with any of the equipment. It’s just that exercise and I have an ambivalent relationship.’

      ‘Love, you ain’t the only one,’ Harry said with a consoling pat to Nicola’s arm. ‘Now, how about I bathe the littlies while you stack the dishwasher?’

      It was obvious Harry adored Ella and Holly and, if the expression on her face was anything to go by, she enjoyed bath time too. Nicola was happy to divide the chores. ‘Deal.’ She rose and started to clear the table.

      ‘You promised to read me a bedtime story, Nic!’ Ella reminded her. ‘Don’t forget.’

      She planted her hands on her hips and gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. ‘How could I forget something as important as that?’

      With a giggle, Ella allowed Harry to lead her away.

      A glance back at the table confirmed that Cade watched her. She couldn’t decipher the expression in his eyes, but it made her break out in gooseflesh and turned all her fingers to thumbs. She opened her mouth to fill the quiet, but shut it again. That kind of rattling on was neither dignified nor self-possessed. She stacked the dishwasher, and suffered his examination in silence.

      ‘Nicola,’ he said, finally breaking the silence, ‘you don’t strike me as the gym-junkie type.’

      No, she was more a curl-up-on-the-sofa-with-a-good-book-and-a-block-of-chocolate type. Admitting that certainly wouldn’t be dignified, though. ‘I think we’ve definitely established I’m not the jogging-outside-in-the-fresh-country-air type either,’ she managed with a wry, hopefully dignified smile. ‘Despite what I said, I do understand the benefits of regular exercise and I am grateful for the use of your home gym.’

      She poured detergent into the dishwasher and then switched it on. ‘I have every intention of continuing.’

      He stood. ‘Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’

      Last time he’d said that he’d showed her a home gym.

      He grinned at her hesitation. ‘You’ll love it, I promise.’

      Nicola smelled like strawberry jam. He’d first noticed it when he’d helped her to her feet yesterday morning. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of it out of his head. He’d been craving another hit ever