Maid for the Single Dad (13 page)

Mac took two steps toward the sofa. “Then?”

“Then he became verbally abusive.” She shrugged. “At first I blamed it on bad days. Everybody has them. He was a small-business owner.” She glanced up at Mac. “He owned four pizza places and sometimes they struggled. Plus, he wasn't as bad as one of the foster parents I'd had. So I figured I could deal with it.”

Talking about it resurrected the fear she'd lived for three long years. It crawled along her spine like a living thing. She sucked in a deep breath, blew it out slowly.

“I was a homeless clerk in one of his shops. I didn't have any money. So when we began living together, I didn't bring anything to the table for him. Technically, I was another expense. He lived and died by the sales in each shop every week. His financial future was always on the line.”

Mac dropped to one of the club chairs, put his elbow on the arm and his chin on his fist. His own troubles seemingly forgotten, he caught her gaze. “That's one of the risks of owning your own business.”

“I know that now. But back then I was eighteen. I saw him as a knight in shining armor, facing battles every day that provided me with a home.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I believed a little too much in fairy tales.”

“You were still a kid.”

She met his gaze. “I was never a kid.”

He shook his head sadly. “I know.”

“Anyway, one day about twenty minutes before he should have come home from work, I had this really strong sense that I should toss all my clothes into a suitcase and run.”

“The intuition that makes you Magic?”

She smiled ruefully. “Except I didn't run. I couldn't imagine why suddenly that day the intuition that kept telling me to stay, that he was providing me with a place that kept me warm and dry and I needed him, was now telling me to go. I thought I was just being weird.”

She swallowed hard and suddenly felt as if she couldn't finish. Fear roamed through her, taking up residence in her stuttering heart, as memories tripped over themselves in her brain.

Mac quietly said, “So what happened?”

“He came home with a gun.”

Mac sat up. “What?”

“He came home with a gun. Before I could run he caught my wrist and wouldn't let me go. He yanked me close and put the gun to my head and told me he was going to kill me then kill himself.” She shook her head. “He was so out of it, talking about killing us in this romantic way that scared me so much I started to cry.”

“My God.”

“Crying saved me. It annoyed him and he shoved me away from him. He raised the gun and pointed it at me and I turned and ran. The first shot missed me. The second shot hit the door as it closed behind me.” She peeked at Mac. “The rest is sort of a blur.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah. I was sorry too. Sorry I didn't recognize the signs. Sorry I didn't try to get help…for both of us.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

She knew that. And, actually, telling Mac the story seemed to allow that truth to penetrate. It was as if telling him had resurrected the ghosts that haunted her, deconstructed them and took away their power to hurt her. She felt distanced from the story. She knew it had happened to her, but it didn't define her anymore. In fact, she felt so beyond that part of her life that she knew she had to tell him the rest.

“The worst part is when it's over. Wondering where he is, what he's doing… Whether or not he's going to find you.”

 

Mac's fury with his ex-wife morphed into fury with Ellie's ex boyfriend. Now he understood why Liz Nestor
had wanted to talk with him privately, why she wanted to be sure Mac wouldn't hurt Ellie. She'd been hurt enough already.

“Tell me more about what came after.”

“About running and hiding? Living with Liz, fearing that I was dragging her into my mess? Only being able to clean houses of people who were out of town because I was so afraid I'd run into someone who remembered me from a pizza shop.” She combed her fingers through her hair and rose from the sofa, walked to the wall of windows. “I was a mess.”

“How long did it last?”

“Almost a year, then Liz talked me into coming on one of her assignments for A Friend Indeed. Sharing stories with the other women really helped me snap out of a lot of it.” She stared out at the storm. Foamy white waves hit the shore. “But I still wouldn't risk running into anyone in any of the houses I cleaned.” She faced Mac with a sad smile. “Liz was very patient.”

“Liz is a good friend.”

“I know.”

“So it's really only been a little over a year or so that you've been out in the world?”

“Almost two.” She caught his gaze. “I'm not proud of that.”

“You shouldn't be ashamed either.” Mac thought of himself, about how hard it had been to get over his anger with Pamela, and realized it had probably been a hundred times harder for Ellie to get over her past. Yet, here he was, dragging her into another relationship. Maybe one even more dangerous.

“You had a right to take all the time you needed to heal.”

The penthouse elevator bell rang and the sound of footsteps on the marble foyer floor echoed into the living room. Mac tensed until Phil stepped into the room. “We're getting all clear messages from all of your properties. But I still don't feel comfortable with you going home.”

“We're fine here until you say the word.”

“And I also think it's time to discuss your new casual attitude,” Phil added, glancing meaningfully at Ellie.

She blanched. “I wouldn't ever ask him to do something foolish! To take a risk with his kids!”

“No, but you don't seem to get it. The people who pursue people like Mac are nuts. They can conjure a vendetta out of a simple slight. Real or imagined.”

“That's enough, Phil.”

“I'm just saying—”

“We get it,” Mac said, dismissing him.

With a shake of his head, Phil turned back to the foyer. Within seconds the sound of the elevator bell rippled through the room.

Mac turned to Ellie. “He's right, you know.”

“Not always.”

“No, but there is no foolproof way to tell when a threat is viable unless you investigate it and that means you can't go to the mall, pretending nothing's wrong. We get threats regularly. Just because of who we are. Now my wife's fans are adding trouble to the mix. Plus, there's all our foreign dealings. We're a target simply because we're global.”

Ellie swallowed. “I understand.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “No. I don't think you do.” His eyes popped open and he walked over to the wall of windows where she stood. The sea raged. Lightning lit the dark sky. Thunder rattled the windows. “This is my life.”

He once again remembered the “something important” that had been nagging at him after the night she kissed him in the gazebo, the night he'd believed if they took this slowly they could make it work. His life was a prison and Ellie deserved better.

“I know.”

With one finger on her chin, he tipped her face up until she met his eyes. “I can't change it.”

With their gazes locked, she studied him for several seconds, but ultimately her eyes softened. “Okay.”

“No, it's not okay.” He shook his head. “You think you understand, but until you've lived it you can't understand and it's not right for me to ask you to live this way.”

She stepped back. “What?”

“Ellie, you yourself just told me that you've only recently recovered from a really bad experience. My life is a potential smorgasbord of bad experiences. I won't put you through this. I won't steal your life again.”

 

This time the fear that rose up in her was fresh, not remembered. She
loved
him. She knew the risks. She'd rather face them than spend the rest of her life without the one person she genuinely believed loved and understood her.

“I'm not a hothouse flower!”

“I never said you were. You're one of the strongest, smartest women I know. You're also the kindest. It would be selfish and wrong for me to keep you.” He sucked in a breath, pulled his cell phone from his pocket and buzzed Phil.

“You may take Ms. Swanson to the Happy Maids' office. Put her into Liz Nestor's hands. Check out the situation to be sure it's safe and assign a bodyguard to her until this threat has passed.”

Then he turned and left Ellie alone in the room to wait for Phil because he wasn't sure he was strong enough not to change his mind and beg her to stay.

M
AC
and his children stayed at the hotel for an entire week. Mrs. Pomeroy was waiting at his house when they returned. She spent the night, but she wasn't a real nanny and Mac knew his time for procrastination had run out.

The next morning he strode off the elevator into his secluded office, carrying Henry in a baby carrier. Phil marched behind him, carrying Lacy.

“Ashley!”

His personal secretary appeared at the door. Five-nine, reed thin, with auburn hair and an ever present yellow pencil behind her ear, Ashley was a recent university graduate. “Yes, Mr. Carmichael—” She saw Lacy and Henry. “Oh.”

“Has Mrs. Davis scheduled those nanny interviews today?”

Mac asked the question as the elevator opened on two of Phil's men. Wearing a dark suit, sunglasses and an ear bud communication device in his ear, Tom carried a playpen and Henry's diaper bag. Similarly dressed, Paul toted a bag of Lacy's toys.

Ashley watched as they set Mac's kids' things in the corner by his desk. Then she faced Mac with a smile. “You're going to have the nannies interact with the children.”

He hadn't thought of that, but since they were here that was as good of an excuse as any for having his kids with him. “Yes. Are they scheduled?”

She glanced down at the calendar she held. “One for nine. One at ten-thirty. One at twelve.” She closed the book. “Mrs. Davis gave you an hour and a half with each candidate.”

Without removing his sunglasses, Tom quietly set up the playpen.

Lacy squirmed until Phil set her down on the floor. “Daddy, I want my doll.”

He looked at Tom. “Doll?”

“In the car.” He headed for the elevator. “I'm on my way.”

Paul followed him. “We should have all the children's things up here in three or four trips, sir.”

“That's fine.”

Phil headed for the elevator too. “I'll help.”

“Great.” Mac looked at Ashley. “Have Mrs. Davis send the first candidate in when she arrives.”

Ashley's cheeks turned pink. “It's a man.”

“Great.” Resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, Mac instead reached for Lacy. After all, it didn't matter if it was a man or woman who cared for his kids as long as the candidate was competent.

Ashley raced out of the room. Mac lifted Lacy into his arms. “Tom will set up a place for you to play. You have to be quiet while daddy talks to nannies.”

“I want Ellie.”

Right.

He understood Lacy's feelings. He wanted Ellie too. Not because she was good with the kids, but because he missed her. He missed being normal. He missed having a
real life. He missed having someone to talk to, someone who was interested in him as a person, not because he was rich. Someone who loved him.

Yeah, he wanted Ellie too. But he wasn't so selfish that he'd drag her into this life.

He walked Lacy to the small conference table in the back corner of his office. “I think this would be a great place for you to play.”

“What about Henry?”

“He'll nap in the playpen.”

As Mac said the last, Mrs. Davis, Mac's longtime administrative assistant, stepped into the room. Dressed impeccably in a navy blue suit, she led a short balding man into Mac's office. “This is James Collins.”

Mac offered his hand for shaking. “Mr. Collins.”

“Mr. Carmichael. I've heard so much about you.”

Undoubtedly. Somehow or another the bomb threat had been leaked. Pamela played horrified actress, using the threat to get her face all over the papers. Mac had had no choice but to let her visit the kids, but he'd set the time and the place and his team had kept the press out. Her crazed fan had been arrested. And now life was going on.

Sort of. Without Ellie it was all kind of gray and lifeless.

Mac pointed toward his desk, indicating he and Collins should talk there. “You've heard so much about us, yet you still want to work for us?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I think I might be your best candidate. I've been in the Marines.”

Mac took his seat behind the desk as Jim Collins sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk.

“You should know the children were madly in love with our last nanny.”

“Can I ask why she left?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say he was afraid for her life, afraid that he'd ruin her life, afraid that he'd stifle her and she'd run…and hurt him a hundred times more than Pamela had. Instead, he glanced down at the résumé Mrs. Davis had surreptitiously set on his desk and said, “Personal reasons.”

 

Ellie unlocked the door of the Happy Maids office and simply stood on the threshold for a good five minutes. Even though it had been a week, she couldn't believe she was here. It seemed surreal. At the oddest times memories would sneak up on her and stop her cold. A little over a week ago, she had been falling in love, mothering two wonderful children. Today she was alone again. Unwanted.

No, she thought, walking to the desk and tossing her purse into the bottom drawer on the right. Mac wanted her. He simply didn't trust her to be able to handle his life.

Tears filled her eyes and she cursed herself. Why was she crying? Hadn't she cried enough? Hadn't she learned a million times over that crying didn't help anything?

She sucked in a breath and stemmed her tears. She had learned that lesson. And she'd also learned that life went on.

She sat at the desk, confused about where to start, what to do. Oh, she loved this job, but it didn't feel like hers anymore. She almost called Ava then couldn't bring herself to do it. How would she explain? What would she say? Liz was home, working a very light schedule, dependent upon Ellie to keep things going, and by God she would.

She was stronger than anybody believed she was. She got over her fear when she left Sam. She'd get over the unbearable sadness of losing Mac.

Hopefully.

 

Jim Collins was a great guy and would probably make an outstanding nanny. He also came with the benefit of training in the security field. He'd been trained to handle kids in all the worst-case scenarios Mac envisioned. But the kids hadn't warmed to him. Oh, they liked him enough. Mac liked him. But something was missing.

Mac chalked it up to the fact that Jim was a professional bodyguard. And neither Mac nor his children could see past that. It was almost as if hiring Jim would be like saying they expected more trouble. Mac
did
anticipate trouble. But he also had Phil and his various teams. His hiring a nanny who was also a bodyguard would have driven Ellie crazy.

He told himself not to think about Ellie, to stop filtering his decisions through the question of what she'd do. Not only did he need to get over her, but also she had never once tried to contact him. Even Liz Nestor hadn't made good on her threat to “find” him if he hurt Ellie. So his only logical guess was Ellie was fine without him.

He thanked Jim for coming in and told him that they would get back to him.

The second interview went only slightly better than the first. Mrs. Regina Olson was a widow. She adored children, had raised three of her own, and needed the income. Only in her forties she expected to work until she was sixty-five and would have been blessedly pleased if she could work for the same family that entire time. Especially a family with two gorgeous children.

Unfortunately, she tweaked Lacy's cheeks and Lacy howled in pain. Mac knew Regina hadn't hurt Lacy, but Lacy had not appreciated the tweak. Panicked, Mrs. Olson insisted she hadn't tweaked that hard, but Lacy only cried all the more.

Ms. Nancy Turner was a tall blonde around Ellie's age. Lacy approached her carefully and stood by her chair while Mac tried to ask questions without calling attention to the fact that his six-year-old daughter was staring at her.

Finally, Mac said, “Lacy, come sit on Daddy's lap.”

She walked around the desk slowly, backward, not taking her eyes off Nancy Turner.

“So you've been a nanny before?”

“I worked in New York City.” She laughed lightly. “Last winter I decided I hated snow.
Really
hated snow,” she emphasized, laughing again. “And here I am.” She reached into her purse. “Mrs. Davis has my references, but here they are again.”

She handed him a sheet with the names of two prominent Wall Street investors, both of whom were personal friends of Mac's. He could see why she'd wanted him to take special note of that.

“That's very good.”

“Are you Ellie's sister?”

Nancy smiled at Lacy. “I don't have any sisters.” Then she glanced at Mac. “Who is Ellie?”

“Ellie was our last nanny. You sort of look like her.”

“I see.”

“The children were quite fond of her.”

“Of course.” She gave Lacy a soft smile. “You can tell me all the things you liked about Ellie, all the things you liked to do with her and I'm sure we can do a lot of those things.”

He tried to picture Nancy Turner with a sheet wrapped around her for a make-believe ball gown and couldn't. She looked enough like Ellie that she really could have been her sister. She also had a pleasant disposition, great references and seemed to genuinely like Lacy.

But there was something off. Something wrong.

Nancy unexpectedly rose. She extended her hand to shake Mac's. “I'm sorry, but I scheduled another interview for immediately after this one.” She smiled engagingly. “Have to keep all my options open, you know.”

Hoisting Lacy with him, Mac rose too. “Of course.” He shifted Lacy to sit on his hip. “We'll call you when we've made a decision.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

With that she turned and left. Lacy looked up at him and said, “What are options?”

“She wants to make sure she gets a job, so we're not the only people she's talking to.”

Lacy simply said, “Oh,” then scooted down and returned to the play area Phil had set up in the corner of his office.

Mac buzzed Mrs. Davis. She stepped into the room a few minutes later. “Hello, Lacy.”

Lacy said, “Hello, Mrs. Davis.”

Pride rose up in him at not just how polite Lacy was, but more than that how she was no longer shy, and Mac instantly remembered that he owed Ellie for that.

She'd told Lacy fairy tales, taught her to shop, told her the value of being good.

And he suddenly knew why none of the nannies had seemed right. None of them was Ellie.

But that was wrong. She didn't belong with them. She had a life. Mac had given it back to her. And she'd never tried to contact him. Not even through her friends. She hadn't really loved him. Didn't want him.

If it killed him to live without her, and it just might, he would.

Even if the next weeks were the hardest of his life, he would push through them.

 

The first Monday in September, Mac was at the end of his rope. Lacy was back to waking at four, but now she also refused breakfast. For some reason or another, today, she also didn't want lunch. At four, even knowing dinner wasn't until six, she refused a snack.

Mac had hired a fifty-something grandmother named Blanche to be the nanny. Though she wasn't Ellie, she was more than qualified to care for his kids. As Mac's phone rang, she stooped beside the table tempting Lacy with crackers.

“Please. We'll put cheese on them.”

Mac extracted his ringing phone from his jean's pocket and barked, “Yes?”

“Mac?”

Hearing Phil's voice, Mac squeezed his eyes shut. He'd barked at the one person who consistently supported him. He had to get over losing Ellie or he'd alienate everybody in his world. “Sorry. What's up?”

“There's a van here. Woman inside says you told her she could have a picnic here with thirty of her friends. ID says she's Ava Munroe.”

Mac's eyes popped open. “Oh, my gosh. What day is it?”

“Monday…Labor Day.”

He groaned. “That's the A Friend Indeed group. I did tell them they could have a picnic here.”

“Actually, I'm looking at the files in my laptop. You had me check them out a few months ago. And they all cleared. Every person on the guest list.”

“And we haven't changed the list.”

Mac heard Ava's unmistakable voice coming from somewhere near Phil and sucked in a breath.

“The only people I brought were those you cleared.”

Every memory he had of Ava also included Ellie, and pain ricocheted through him. Weeks had passed and he was no closer to getting over her than he had been the day he asked her to leave.

Worse, today, the bomb threat that caused Mac to enact the protocols and procedures to keep him and his children safe seemed so far away. And nothing, absolutely nothing even slightly dangerous had happened in weeks. He and the kids were back to living in a prison and with thirty happy people sitting at his gate, thirty people about to have a picnic, oodles of kids who could potentially make his daughter happy, that prison suddenly seemed oh so unnecessary.

Still, he'd lost Ellie because of the danger in his world. Because he had to erect barriers. Because he couldn't be too careful. If he changed his mind now, if he loosened his restrictions, losing her would be for nothing.

“Tell Ava that I'm sorry. My staff should have called her and told her that with the new security procedures—”

“Give me that phone!”

Mac heard Ava's voice again. Two seconds later her voice, not Phil's, came through his cell phone. “Mac?”

“Hello, Ava.”

“You cannot tell a woman with a vanload of kids that she can't use your pool. You promised.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts! You
promised
. Besides, I miss your kids.” Her voice softened. “Please? I'd love to see Lacy and Henry.”

His gaze slid over to Lacy. She sat with her elbows on the table, her lips turned down in a frown, her eyes clouded in misery.