Carly swallows. “I know.”
“Do you?” I angle toward her. “Because from where I’m sitting, you overheard part of a private conversation, marched over to me half a beat later, and volunteered to become a live-in nanny like that’s a normal thing people do between drinks, when Ijustoffered you a promotion this morning.”
“I know,” she repeats. “And I know it isn’t normal.”
I let my gaze drag over her face again. “So what is this, Carly? Are you serious, or are you just a little drunk?”
A spark flashes in her eyes. “I’m serious.” Her mouth tightens. “And I’m not drunk. I’ve had two cocktails, that’s it.”
I lean my forearms on the bar and keep my voice even. “Right. Okay,” I sigh, trying not to focus on the absurdity of it all. If she’s genuinely serious, it could be the answer to all of my problems. Or the start of ten new ones. “If you did this, you’d have to take Penelope to school in the mornings before coming in to work. Or, more accurately, before logging in, because some of your work would need to happen from my house. You’d pick her up inthe afternoon. Be with her until I’m done with work, and that’s not always a consistent time. Feed her if I’m late. Help keep the wheels from coming off the whole operation.”
“So I’d be your nanny,” she says carefully, “and still work for Sparkks?”
“I wouldn’t accept your offer if it means no longer working for Sparkks. I told you I want you as head of design, and that wasn’t a lie. I can find another nanny. I can’t find another person with your ideas.” I press my lips together, run my hand over my face. “The NFL line is the biggest deal Sparkks Sports has ever had. I need someone that can keep up. If this would jeopardizethat, then it’s a no.”
Her brows pull together. “I can probably swing it as long as you give me some flexibility with working hours. I don’t mind working late after you’ve taken over.”
“That can be arranged.”
Her lips part a little.I keep going before I can think too hard about them.
“The NFL line doesn’t need someone I check in with once a week in a conference room. It needs someone I can work with directly, frequently,fast. Someone who can pivot. Someone whose ideas don’t all sound like they were approved by committee.”
A blush creeps into her cheeks. Whether it’s from the compliment or the way I’m looking at her, I don’t know. Probably the compliment.
Hopefully the compliment.
“So you wouldn’t consider this a demotion,” she says.
I scoff. “No. If anything, it’s the opposite. More money. You’d be doing two jobs.”
She stares at the back bar for a second, processing.“This would mean working with you more,” she says, and the way she says it makes me bristle. It’s not excitement, and not fear either. It’s more like she’s testing the temperature of a flame with one finger.
I make my voice flatter than I feel. “Yes.”
“At your house.”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
The word hangs there between us, small and dangerous.I hold her gaze, trying to get across exactly what I’ve had to say to too many employees:please keep this professional. “My daughter would be there.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Christ.My jaw tightens. Maddox would be laughing his ass off right now if he could hear this part.“Yes,” I say carefully. “A lot of the time, yes. We would be working alone.”
Her throat moves when she swallows.Mine feels suspiciously dry.
This is exactly why hiring her is a bad idea, and why having this conversation with a woman inebriated enough to be this brazen right after getting a promotion is a symptom of my own stupidity. She’s beautiful. Not loudly or obnoxiously, there’s no big performance, just expressive eyes, a full mouth, soft brunette hair, and a body that is testing the limits of my self-control whenshe looks at me like that. She looks like the kind of woman a man ruins his peace over.
And I like my peace.
So I do what I’ve gotten very good at over the years:I turn colder.
“If that makes you uncomfortable,” I say, “then you should say so now.”
Her eyes snap back to mine. “It doesn’t.”
