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‘Good to meet you. Sorry about this,’ she says, signalling to her wet swimming costume.
I want to say:Oh, don’t be sorry. You’re the most gorgeous sight I’ve ever seen, but I bite my tongue. That would be a wholly inappropriate way to greet the new nanny, and so instead I say, ‘No problem at all. Daisy adores swimming, which is one reason we chose this house. Thank you for being such a good sport and swimming with her on your first day.’
She’s obviously cold—her nipples are standing to attention and poking against the wet fabric, which has an instant effect on me. I feel myself harden. Now it’s my turn to shift on the spot.
In a breathy voice, she asks if it’s okay to go and get changed quickly.
I nod and tell her, of course it is, and that we want her to feel at home.
‘Can I go with you?’ Daisy beseeches her.
I’d go with her like a shot if she invited me…
But I command my cock to calm the fuck down. I resume my role as sensible single dad and tell Daisy to give Nathalie a chance to settle in, and I want to hear all about her day at school. Sufficiently distracted, Daisy reaches for my hand and swings on my arm, so I pick her up and she giggles when I smother her face in kisses.
Nathalie throws me a shy smile and thanks me before she darts across the room, out the door, and up the stairs.
I breathe deeply several times, desperately trying to calm my wildly beating heart and act normal for Daisy.
The knock-out nanny is another twist I didn’t see coming…
CHAPTER2
Sebastian
Daisy and I wander outside to the large rambling garden, and I drop into a poolside chair while Daisy dangles her feet in the pool and fills me in on random events of her day.
I brace myself before the irresistible nanny returns. I don’t know why I’m having such an intense reaction to her, but I can’t deny it.
‘We’re breaking up for summer holidays soon, and I can’t wait,’ Daisy chatters. ‘I’m going to ask Nathalie if we can swimeveryday in the holidays.’
‘I hope Nathalie enjoys swimming as much as you or she’s in for a long, old summer,’ I tease.
‘Nathalie is lovvvvvely, Daddy. And she said her name is spelt with an h, which is the French way. She likes swimming a lot more than my old nanny. Thank you for finding her.’
Her face glows and seeing her so overjoyed makes my heart twist, and I’m grateful to my assistant for hiring someone young and energetic. On reflection, Nathalie is probably exactly what Daisy needs. My ex-wife, Maddy, is so often unavailable, our daughter misses out on having her mother in her life in any dependable pattern.
I’m relieved Daisy and Nathalie have hit it off immediately. It’s only the first day, but one of the most difficult things about parenting, especially as a single parent without a partner to share the daily load, is trusting a stranger with your child. I’m used to having a small staff at home, but we’ve never had a live-in nanny for Daisy before, so I was unsure if it was the right decision.
Of course, we have lots of live-in staff at Greystone Manor, the Rochester family home, so it’s not an unfamiliar concept to me, but it’s been some years since I moved to London, and I hire live-out staff whenever possible to protect our privacy.
My mind wanders back to knock-out Nathalie, and I try to remember what my assistant said about her. I recall she is from Paris and has a degree in childcare. I can’t remember anything else, and I kick myself. Despite the breathy French accent, her English is almost perfect, which intrigues me further.
Daisy’s still chatting a mile a minute when Nathalie reappears. This time, much to my disappointment—although after my reaction to her I know I should be relieved—she’s no longer wearing her wet swimwear but looks beautiful in a summer dress.
If I’d met Nathalie at the interview stage, I might have thought twice about hiring her. I’m a red-blooded male, when all is said and done, and she is a feast to the eyes. It’s never going to be a sensible idea to find yourself lusting after your daughter’s nanny, so I have a stern word with myself and try to get a grip.
She is strictly off-limits, Rochester. No matter how fucking gorgeous she is.
That trace of a sultry French accent is so damn sexy. It makes my blood tingle, and I feel lightheaded, but I pull myself together and have no problem projecting a confident exterior under pressure. I’m a Rochester, after all.
‘Come and join us, Nathalie. I’ll ask Mrs Johnson to bring us tea.’
‘May I have apple juice?’ Daisy asks.
Nathalie crosses her long legs as she settles in a chair nearby. I ask what brings her to London from Paris, desperate to get my mind on safer topics.
‘My mother was a huge fan of all things English,’ she says, flicking her tawny blonde hair out of her face. ‘I’ve wanted to visit since I was a kid, but never had a chance.’
