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But the boy interrupted him. ‘Couldn’t you please be my nanny, Alex? At least you like my dog and he likes you.’ A single tear stole down his cheek.
There was silence and as Alex straightened slowly she found her thoughts on the subject of mothers who did this to their children to be highly uncharitable.
‘Nicky,’ she said quietly, and slipped her hand into the boy’s, ‘I would love to, but I have another job to do, you see, so—’
‘We could—merge jobs,’ Max said. ‘You do have three days off from tomorrow,’ he reminded her. ‘Anything on that you can’t cancel?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘Would it be impossible to spend three days at Sovereign Island with Nicky? It’s very pleasant down there.’
Alex shook her head rather helplessly and opened her mouth, but Max Goodwin looked at his watch. ‘Then we just have time to stop off at your place, Alex, so you could pack a bag.’ He turned to Nicky. ‘She won’t be able to be with you all the time, but quite a bit. How’s that?’
‘Brilliant!’ Nicky carolled and Nemo barked in joyful agreement.
Alex stood stock-still and stared at Max Goodwin incredulously.
‘You couldn’t disappoint them, now, could you, Miss
Hill?’ he drawled.
Alex almost bit her tongue on words l
ike ‘blackmail’ and phrases such as ‘taking unfair advantage'. ‘No,’ she said in a stifled sort of way, instead.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE Sovereign Islands sat in the Gold Coast Broadwater and were, Alex knew, arguably one of its most prestigious addresses. Houses that weren’t mansions only fell short of it by a small margin; the rest were. All of them had waterfront access either directly onto the Broadwater or linked to it by a series of canals.
The Broadwater itself was protected from the might of the ocean by South Stradbroke Island and was a boating paradise. It shared its bounty, its white beaches, its slate-green mangroves and darker casuarinas, not only with sailors and fishermen, but a rich tapestry of bird life from pelicans and oystercatchers to migratory whimbrels. To Brahminy kites, sea eagles and even, although rarely, the black and white, long red-legged jabiru, big birds that looked as if they were dancing through the shallows as they fished.
There were dolphins in the waters and wild wallabies on shore on South Stradbroke.
The City of the Gold Coast to the south was a high-rise Mecca of sophisticated shopping and dining, but out in a dinghy for a day’s fishing north of the Sovereign Islands, in a mangrove inlet, you could feel you were a million miles from anywhere.
It had been a swift, fifty-minute drive in the Bentley down the motorway after Alex had thrown some things into a bag. Because of the presence of Nicky, the conversation had been limited to the mundane or to do with the upcoming lunch. Nemo, thankfully, had slept most of the way.
Nicky had imparted the information that Nemo still chewed things and occasionally forgot his toilet training, but he was improving all the time. It also made sense of Nicky’s wanting her as his nanny. Nemo, if Alex was any judge, would be a trial to many, whereas she genuinely loved dogs.
Max Goodwin had absorbed this information without comment, but the little glance he’d flicked Alex, sitting next to him in the front seat, had made her want to laugh.
It was the only thing she felt like laughing about, though. She was still annoyed and curiously apprehensive about the situation she’d been landed in.
The Goodwin mansion faced north and occupied three blocks. It was Tuscan in design, two-storeyed with terracotta roof tiles and soft apricot plastered walls. The studded double front door was flanked by unfluted columns. It stood open as Max brought the Bentley to a smooth halt on the semi-circular driveway. A car jockey in a red jacket and black trousers sprang into action.
He opened the door for Alex and bowed her out of the car. Max got out and tossed him the keys, greeting him by name: Stan.
Stan saluted and returned the greeting. He also assured Max that he’d put the Bentley in the garage with the utmost care. And he was quite unfazed by the presence of one small boy plus dog, so Alex guessed the news had filtered down.
She took a deep breath and climbed the front steps carefully in her unfamiliar high heels with Max Goodwin and his son following her.
The hall was cool and dim, but it led through the width of the house to a vast stone-flagged terrace that was bright and colourful and overlooked the sparkling waters of the Broadwater.
There were no guests present on the terrace, but there was a woman directing several waiters. And Jake Frost was in attendance.
Two long tables were set for lunch, set so beautifully Alex’s eyes widened. Apart from a magnificent dinner service and crystal glassware, the table appointments consisted of long narrow gilded planter boxes crammed with real live pansies and violets.
The cutlery handles were ebony inlaid with gold. The cloths and napkins were linen and the same soft apricot of the walls. The water pitchers were encased in delicate gold filigree.
