Then Came You (The Wilde Sisters #2) (6 page)

The resort was his first solo project, one he started without using the family name as a stepping stone. Which also meant he had to wear more hats—literally and figuratively—and he discovered he loved the hands-on approach, getting dirty and working with his construction crew. His father would be proud of him. However, Grayson was happy he wasn’t around. Richard would have insisted on a debrief and dinner at ten, when all Grayson wanted to do was fall in bed.

With Thyme.

No, he wouldn’t let the nanny’s curves take over his thoughts.

If he didn’t know better he’d say he saw a glint of jealousy in her eyes when she spotted Eva on his arm and Veronica pawing at his chest.

Most likely it was disgust. She probably got the impression that he was busy entertaining two women and ignoring his daughter.

Many men, and women, mistook Eva for a much younger woman. Her micromanaged upbringing didn’t allow for excess sun, sugar, carbs, frivolous entertainment, or polyester. Sophia Buchanan, widowed when Eva was only ten, was old school and strict with her daughter, molding her into a mini-Sophia. And more than forty years later, she still controlled her.

Grayson’s father wasn’t heartless, but he avoided his mother-in-law as much as possible, conveniently having a late meeting or a rushed deadline when Sophia flew in from Chicago. Grayson learned from the best how to dodge the infamous Sophia Buchanan’s visits as much as possible.

He would always spend extra time with his mother after Sophia’s visits to New York. Maintaining her classy ways, Eva would never say an ill word toward her mother, yet Grayson knew Eva had emotional scars that ran deep. The best he could do was stay out of the limelight and avoid his grandmother as much as possible.

Hopefully Sophia didn’t accompany his mother on this trip. There was already too much estrogen surrounding him and he didn’t know how much more he could handle. Most likely Eva was bored and wanted to spend time with Grayson. She did that often.

After checking the security cameras and having a quick chat with the nighttime guards, Grayson locked up his temporary office and headed out to his rental car. Usually he had Armand at his beck and call when in Aruba, but he’d loaned the dedicated employee to Thyme and Maddie.

His stomach twisted with guilt, confusion, and a whole mess of stress. Juggling worksites, timelines, setbacks, incompetent contractors, meddling grandmothers, he was used to. Throw one hot nanny and a newfound daughter into the mix and he was sure to get an ulcer.

First on his list needed to be his daughter. Wow.
Daughter.
Eva would be thrilled to be a grandmother. Richard? Grayson wasn’t quite sure. His father wasn’t one to show much emotion. As soon as Sophia—she never allowed her only grandchild to call her anything other than that—found out about an illicit child, she’d be in a whirl of fury, creating a cover story and finding the perfect
wife
for Grayson, spinning the tale so Bethany Davenport came across as a malicious gold digger.

True, what the woman had done was a wicked trick, but he didn’t need the dead couple’s names run through the mud. He preferred to keep the story—and Maddie—out of the limelight.

After pulling into his private spot at Montgomery Resorts, Grayson unfolded himself from the sports car and let himself into his quarters. It was easy to avoid anyone and everyone when staying here. He had a private entrance to the resort and could choose to stay aloof from the world if he so chose.

But tonight was not one of those nights. After a quick shower, he stuck the leftover kung pao chicken in the microwave and poured himself a tumbler of bourbon. The glass was empty before the microwave dinged. Defying all the rules of his upbringing, he dug out a fork from the silverware drawer and ate right out of the take-out carton.

If he was going down, he might as well enjoy the simple things in life while he still could. Chucking the empty carton into the trash, he slid his key card in his pocket and marched down the hall toward Thyme’s suite. After gently tapping on the door, he waited for her response.

Nothing. He knocked louder and waited. Still nothing.

She wouldn’t take Maddie out this late, would she? Grayson took out his phone, checked the time—ten-thirty—and called Thyme.

When she didn’t answer again, he used his master key and let himself into the suite. Something wasn’t right. Armand said he’d dropped the girls off before dinner and they hadn’t left the resort since. Sure, it was late, but Thyme should still answer her phone.

A quick glance in the kitchen proved Armand right. The dinner dishes were stacked in the strainer beside the sink. The living room was empty. Not wanting to wake Maddie, he slipped off his Italian loafers and walked toward the master suite.

Peeking in on Thyme while she slept seemed a bit inappropriate, but he needed to talk with her. To know how Maddie was doing.

How Thyme was doing.

The door was slightly ajar, moonbeams caressing the back wall giving him just enough light to see a small form in the giant bed. An uncontrollable and protective urge took over. Needing to see that Thyme was alive and well, he inched closer to the bed and peered down at the tangle of…blonde hair?

Maddie slept in fetal position, tightly spooning Doggy. She must have been afraid, or sad, and asked to sleep with Thyme. He looked around the room and saw no sign of the nanny, but signs of Maddie were everywhere. A discarded top, a pile of ribbons on the dresser, her wet bathing suit draped over the railing outside.

Nothing of Thyme’s. How odd.

Slowly, Grayson backed out of the room, closing the door slightly before walking to the other end of the suite. Had Thyme taken the guest room and given Maddie the master?

An unfamiliar tug pulled at his chest. Needing to ignore it, he poked his head into the guest room. The door stood wide open yet he was clearly crossing a few boundaries by peeking into the bedrooms. He did a quick check of the bed—empty. The lacy red bra draped over the back of the chaise lounge and the scent of citrus in the air told him his shapely nanny had taken residence in the less extravagant bedroom.

The unfamiliar tug occurred again. Backing away from the door, he went back to the living room and ran his hands down his face. Where the hell was his nanny? And why was his daughter sleeping in an unguarded apartment where anyone could come in and…do exactly what he just did.

Creepy? No, being the responsible guardian. Something Thyme Wilde surely wasn’t. There was no way he could leave Maddie untended. He loosened his tie and sat at the edge of the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his eyes. The moonbeams created a fantastic light show as they bounced off the ocean and the pool and the…hot tub.

Wow. Hot tubs had never, ever looked as appealing as the one outside. A mass of curly brown hair sat piled high on her head while her sun-kissed neck and chest glowed in the moonrays. Her arms were outstretched, propped up on the side of the tub, her head tilted back as if she were sleeping.

Which she probably was, or she’d be giving him the third degree about breaking into her suite.

Should he slip out and hope to go unnoticed? Clear his throat to announce his arrival? Save her from drowning? Provide her with mouth-to-mouth?

Conflicting thoughts ran through his head. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to wake her and help her to bed.

Grayson’s legs moved in one direction while his brain told him to go the other way—out the door. He stepped into the cool night air and sucked in a breath as he looked down at Thyme.

Naked. Gloriously, wonderfully, beautifully naked. Again, he didn’t listen to his brain, which told him to look away. Instead he stared, starting with the slender hollow of her neck and working his way down her chest.

Stop. Go. Stop. Yes, his gaze stopped—he was a male, after all—and took in the fullness of her breasts. They were mostly submerged underwater, but the tops of her breasts bobbed to the surface, making his tongue, and other parts of his body, swell as well.

He’d never seen a body like hers before. At least not naked. The women he dated were tall and thin with almost boyish frames. The silky body in front of him was anything but boyish. She had curves a racecar driver would have to carefully maneuver around.

Feeling his pants—more so his zipper—get tighter, he told his eyes to move. So they did. South. From the long spans of her stomach to the apex of her thighs. Instead of long, thin limbs, she had muscular thighs and shapely calves. There was strength in her feminine body. He squirmed, trying to give himself more room in his pants.

“Holy bejezus! What the hell are you doing, Montgomery?” Thyme shot up, then seemed to think better of it and sank below the water. “Quit gawking and get me a towel.” She moved one arm over her delicious breasts and the other hand covered her lower half.

“Uh, uh, y-yeah,” he stuttered, feeling like a class-act fool. “Um, hang on.” Towel? Where the hell was he supposed to find a towel? He jogged toward the master suite, remembered his sleeping daughter occupied that bed, and turned back toward Thyme’s room. Being a glutton for punishment, he glanced at the risqué red bra and walked past it to the bathroom. He took a moment to adjust himself, grabbed a white, fluffy towel off the shelf, and willed his body to show some restraint as he made his way back to the naked nanny.

If he referred to her as
the nanny
instead of
Thyme
, maybe his body wouldn’t react in such an improper manner.

Yeah, right.

The Naked Nanny—okay, so he’d have to modify that one a bit—had turned on the jets in an obvious attempt to hide herself under the frothy bubbles.

“Just toss it on the chair and leave.”

“I’ll go inside.” He turned to go.

“No. Leave as in
leave
. Back to your hotel or apartment or suite or whatever. Just get out of here. Now. Please. Thank you.”

Grayson turned and crossed his arms. “I’ll give you some privacy and some time to change, but I’m not leaving. We need to talk.” Surely he’d put her in her place.

He walked through the archway to the living room, not before hearing her mutter, “Jackass.”

Chapter Four

Thyme

“Ohmigodohmigodohmigod.” Keeping one eye on Grayson’s back, Thyme hopped out of the hot tub, scooped up her towel, and quickly wrapped it around her body.

What kind of man was he? Just because he owned the place didn’t give him the right to barge into her suite and stare at her as she relaxed in the hot tub. A twinge of guilt crept up her neck as she cursed herself for falling asleep. What if she slipped underwater and drowned and Maddie found her floating face-down like a dead fish? Like the girl wasn’t scarred enough from her parents’ deaths.

She chastised herself for being so irresponsible. If Sage ever found out, she’d never let Thyme live it down. Damn, she didn’t need Sage to make her feel guilty. Thyme would never forgive herself.

And to be caught by Grayson. Maddie’s dad. Her employer. Or was he? The Davenports’ will covered her expenses while Maddie was under her care.

So where did that put Grayson? She’d have to figure that one out when she wasn’t naked. Damn, she was doomed.

Grayson had moved to the kitchen and was pouring himself a glass of wine as Thyme crept behind him, down to her room. She wanted to wrap herself up in a bulky sweatshirt or a snowsuit to shield her body from Grayson’s Caribbean gaze, but she didn’t pack those types of clothes. The best she could do was a pair of linen pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt she often slept in. She tugged on a sports bra first, then pulled the XL Patriots shirt that hung down to her knees over her head.

The fancy architect would probably spin this around and make her look like the incompetent nanny. She needed to stand her ground.

Fact: Grayson Montgomery slept with a married woman and got her pregnant. That screamed,
Bastard!

Fact: Grayson Montgomery shipped his daughter and her nanny to Aruba and completely ignored them for five days. That screamed,
Neglect!

Fact: Grayson Montgomery let himself into her suite and watched her sleep naked in her hot tub. That screamed,
Peeping Tom!

Fact: Grayson Montgomery made her blood boil, her loins ache, her toes curl, and her panties damp. That screamed,
Holy hell!

Confused as ever, Thyme put on a brave face and marched out to the living room, ready for battle. Only the enemy had shucked his shoes, rolled up his sleeves, poured two glasses of wine, turned on the music—low as to not wake Maddie—and reclined in the lounge chair outside by the pool.

Damn. How could she argue with that?

She walked out to the terrace mumbling. “Just make yourself right at home. Help yourself to some wine. Maybe some—” she looked at the spread on the table “—cheese and crackers. Maybe some chips and salsa? You know, mi casa es su casa.”

Thyme scooped up a chunk of salsa with her tortilla chip and plopped herself into the lounge chair to his left.

“Actually, su casa
is
mi casa. I loan this suite out to friends, family, business associates.” He sipped his wine, crossed his ankles, and smiled at her.

She didn’t stare at his feet. Well, maybe glanced quickly to see if he had toe fungus or yellow toenails. All definite turn offs.

Damn. He probably had a pedicure once a week to keep them looking so nice. Couldn’t the man have one fault?

Oh, yes. The Peeping Tom issue. That was a definite deal breaker. And sleeping with a married woman. And child and nanny neglect.

“Do you break into
your
hotel rooms often to gawk at your guests?” She smiled smugly before sipping her wine.

“Not often, no.”

“Just sometimes?”

“Actually, this would be my first.”

“Well, don’t I feel honored.” Thyme reached for another chip. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

“I ate about half the bag while I waited for you.”

“Please. I didn’t take that long.” Thyme snorted.

“I know. I was just hungry. Long day.”

“Yeah. Hard to keep all your social calls in order, isn’t it? Do you have Maddie penned in somewhere? Maybe between your lunch and dinner date?”

Ick. Now she sounded jealous. But she did refer to Maddie, not herself feeling stood up.

“I didn’t have a lunch date. Or a dinner date. Or—” he raised his finger to stop her “—a breakfast date. In fact, I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Not since my egg sandwich this morning. I got home about a half hour ago, ate a couple bites of leftovers, and came over to check on you two.”

“Well, how very sweet. You can see we’re fine. You can go now.”

“Thyme.”

“Grayson,” she mocked.

“Thyme. Please.”

“Grayson.
Please.
Don’t try to patronize me. For Maddie’s sake. I understand if she puts a cramp on your lifestyle. You’re obviously not father material. So Maddie and I will get out of your hair. We’ll fly home tomorrow.”

“Thyme.” He reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “Will you stop being so stubborn and actually listen to my side of the story?”

“What? There are sides?”

“You are an exasperating woman.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t want to hear what he would have to say. It would only make her like him more. She was better off thinking he was scum.

“This job is a make-or-break deal for my career.”

Thyme snorted. “You seem to be doing just fine. Besides, doesn’t Daddy own the business with you? I hardly think he’ll kick you to the curb.” Her retort delivered an obvious hit to his pride, his eyes and mouth turning south, a sad sigh escaping his too perfect lips.

Grayson got up and paced along the pool. “This project is different than anything I’ve ever designed. And I’m not using Montgomery Designs. It’s just me.”

“But you’re still a Montgomery and it’s just a hotel. You design them in your sleep.” Crap. Another reveal. She read that line from an article in
The New York Times
. “No offense, but it doesn’t seem like the same caliber as this place.”

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. Branch out to the middle-class, family style resort. Be good to the environment. I’m tired of catering to the rich and famous. I’d like to work with real, everyday people.”

Double-damn. Now she
really
liked him.
Keep the remarks snide, don’t let him get to you,
she muttered to her aching libido. “So you think abandoning your daughter is the solution? Where’s Alanis Morissette? I’ve got material for her next “Ironic” song.”

Visibly annoyed with her, Grayson pulled on his tie, wrapped it around his knuckles, then, when she thought he’d chuck it across the room, he surprised her by tucking it in his pocket. Such class.

“I have been extremely busy lately. Not that it is an excuse, but Sophia…but some people are hoping I fail at this project and want me to stick with the luxury end. The timing of…everything has been off. I want to make it up to Maddie. Can I take you both to lunch tomorrow?”

Great. Sophia must be another tall model-type whom he’s trying to please. “We already have lunch plans.” It was sort of the truth. Eva Montgomery had mentioned hanging out with them soon. Why not tomorrow?

“Then I’ll join you. I already canceled my twelve o’clock meeting so I could see Maddie. Please?” He sat at the edge of her chair, invading her personal space, literally and figuratively. Grayson reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his erotic gaze honing in on her mouth.

Oh jeez.
Snide remark. Snide remark! Don’t succumb.
“Fine. Sure. Lunch it is.” Damn. Her mouth betrayed her once again. But her legs would not. She set her wine glass down, nudged him aside with her hip, and walked away. “You let yourself in. Feel free to let yourself out,” she called over her shoulder and firmly closed the bedroom door behind her.

***

For twenty-six years, Thyme never had to care for anyone except herself. Hell, she’d only started becoming responsible for herself in the past few months. Thanks to an overbearing oldest sister and a saint of an older sister, Thyme had never had to worry about food, shelter, bills. A job.

She’d crash on one of her sisters’ sofas if she needed a place to stay while in between roommates. When she found herself short on cash, she’d ask one of them if they had a job for her at their work. Which they always did.

It wasn’t until she responded to the nanny position four months ago that Thyme finally found a sense of responsibility. Of being wanted. It felt…powerful. It was one thing to be needed to fill a temporary position, but to be wanted, desired, and sought after was a whole new experience. Maddie made her feel this way. Maybe some day she’d have similar experiences in the romance department.

When she was lonely, she’d hang out with her friends, meet a guy, hook up or date for a bit, then move on. She wasn’t trampy. Thyme didn’t sleep with just
anyone
, but she wasn’t overly picky either.

If he could show her a good time, in or out of the bedroom, he was good material. She didn’t go for the buttoned-up business type. The Grayson Montgomery type. Her rash personality and lack of responsibility never attracted high-class and that was fine with her. Those stuffed shirt guys all thought they were better than everyone else anyway. That they could sleep with married women and get away with it.

Ugh.

Struggling to put on her usual cheery face, Thyme opened Maddie’s bedroom door and stopped. No longer struggling, she grinned ear to ear and crept up to the foot of the bed. One tiny foot poked out of the white sheet, one skinny arm dangled over the side of the bed, and a little wet puddle soaked the pillow under Maddie’s cupid mouth.

Thyme lightly tickled the bottom of Maddie’s foot. Five little toes curled. Thyme chuckled and tickled her again. Maddie moved her foot under the covers, groaned, and rolled over, pulling the white sheet with her, leaving her backside coverless. Her pink princess nighty hugged her tiny body, her blonde tangles splayed all over the place. It would take forever to comb her hair this morning.

Sitting on the bed next to Maddie’s back, Thyme reached out and tickled the girl’s neck.

“Stop,” she grumbled.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Time to get up.”

It wasn’t often that Thyme got up before the five-year-old. Maddie stretched and rubbed her eyes before sitting up.

“What are we doing today?”

“Well, it’s going to take a good hour to comb your hair. Note to self, never let Madeline Davenport go to bed with wet hair again. Then I thought we’d see if we can find a new friend of mine, Eva, and then we’ll go out to lunch.”

She didn’t want to mention meeting Grayson, in case he let them down and didn’t show. Better to be a surprise
if
he actually showed up. And hey, if she happened to invite Eva along, all the merrier, right? The rich bastard deserved to get called out on his game.

After a slow-moving morning, and no Eva in sight, Thyme called Armand and asked him to drive them to Rugala’s. Grayson had texted her an hour ago and asked when and where to meet. She waited until she called Armand to ask for a kid-friendly lunch recommendation, and for good measure, tacked on another twenty minutes before responding to Grayson.

Yeah, she was petty and played games. Another reason why she shouldn’t mix with the likes of a Montgomery.

He didn’t reply. Thyme felt ambivalent about lunch. She wanted him to show, for Maddie’s sake, but wanted him to bail, so she could not like him.

He showed. In fact, he beat her there.

“Hi Grayson! Are you going to have lunch with us?” the little traitor asked.

No, Thyme needed to be the mature adult—something she never aspired to be—and appreciate Maddie’s father trying to be a part of her life.

“Is that okay with you, peanut?”

“Sure.” She giggled. Even after losing her parents and not having a constant adult in her life other than Thyme, the girl managed to find something to smile about and giggle at every single day. If only adults could find so much appreciation and joy in their lives.

Grayson crouched down and kissed the top of Maddie’s head. “You look beautiful today. Is that a new dress?”

“Thyme bought it for me the other day when we went shopping. She bought a matching one.” Maddie twirled, her electric blue sundress circling around her legs. “And we have matching hats. I didn’t wear mine today because it took Thyme four thousand hours to comb my hair.”

Grayson’s eyes sparkled—damn Aruba sun—and lifted toward Thyme. “You look beautiful too.”

Stupid sun making her cheeks flush. Or maybe it was Grayson’s appreciative stare. No, definitely the sun. “Sure. Thanks.” She blew off the compliment, mentally fanned herself, and took Maddie’s hand. “Let’s get our table. I’m famished.” She wasn’t really, but she couldn’t stand much longer.