Prince Daddy & the Nanny. Brenda Harlen
racing whenever he was near. Remnants of her childhood crush? Or the shallow desires of a long-celibate woman? Whatever the explanation, the man sure did interfere with her equilibrium.
Thankfully, he paid little attention to her, seeming content to make conversation with his daughter. Hannah found it interesting to observe their interaction, noting how alive and animated the princess was with her father. Certainly there was no evidence of the moody child who had banished her from the music room earlier.
“Is there something wrong with your fish?”
Hannah was so caught up in her introspection that it took her a moment to realize that the prince had actually deigned to speak to her. She looked down at her plate now, startled to notice that her meal had barely been touched.
“Oh. No.” She picked up her fork, speared a chunk of red snapper. “It’s wonderful.”
“Are you not hungry?”
She was hungry. The muffin and coffee that had been her breakfast en route were little more than a distant memory, and the meal the housekeeper had prepared was scrumptious. But not nearly as scrumptious as the man seated across from her—
She felt her cheeks flush in response to the errant thought. “I’m a little nervous,” she finally admitted.
“About seafood?”
The teasing note in his voice surprised her, and the corners of her mouth automatically tilted in response to his question. “No. About being here … with you.”
“With me,” he echoed, his brows drawing together. “Why?”
“Because you’re a prince,” she admitted. “And I’m not accustomed to dining with royalty.”
“I’m a princess,” Riley interjected, lest anyone forget her presence at the table.
“It’s only a title,” her father told both of them.
“That’s easy to say when you’re the one with the title,” Hannah noted.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But the matter of anyone’s birthright seems a strange reason to miss out on a delicious meal.”
She scooped up a forkful of vegetables, dutifully slid it between her lips. “You’re right—and it is delicious.”
She managed to eat a few more bites before she noticed the princess was yawning. “Someone looks like she’s ready for a nap,” she noted.
“I don’t nap,” Riley informed her primly. “I have quiet time.”
“Right, I saw that on the schedule,” Hannah recalled, noting that Brigitte had indicated “nap” in parentheses.
And then, as if on schedule, the little girl yawned again.
“I think you’re ready for that quiet time,” the prince said, glancing at his watch.
His daughter shook her head. “I want ice cream.”
He hesitated.
“Please, Daddy.” She looked up at him with her big brown eyes.
“Actually, Caridad said something about crème caramel for dessert tonight,” he said, attempting to put off her request.
“I want ice cream now,” Riley insisted.
“One scoop or two?” Caridad asked, clearing the luncheon plates from the table.
“Two,” the princess said enthusiastically. “With chocolate sauce and cherries.”
The housekeeper brought out the little girl’s dessert, but as eagerly as the child dug in to her sundae, Hannah didn’t believe she would finish it. Sure enough, Riley’s enthusiasm began to wane about halfway through, but she surprised Hannah by continuing to move her spoon from the bowl to her mouth until it was all gone.
“Could I please have some more?” Riley asked when Caridad came back out to the terrace, looking up at the housekeeper with the same big eyes and sweet smile that she’d used so effectively on her father.
“You can have more after dinner,” the housekeeper promised.
The upward curve of Riley’s lips immediately turned down. “But I’m still hungry.”
“If you were really still hungry, you should have asked for some more chicken, not more ice cream,” the prince told his daughter.
“I didn’t want more chicken,” she said with infallible logic.
Hannah pushed away from the table. “Come on, Riley. Let’s go get you washed up.”
“I’m not a baby—I don’t need help washing up.”
It seemed to Hannah that the young princess didn’t need help with much of anything—certainly not with manipulating the adults in her life, a talent which she had definitely mastered.
But she kept that thought to herself, at least for now.
She didn’t want to lose her job on the first day.
“Riley,” Michael chastised, embarrassed by his daughter’s belligerent response. “Hannah is only trying to help.”
“Actually,” Hannah interjected, speaking to Riley, “maybe you could help me.”
The little girl’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “With what?”
“Finding my way around this place,” the new nanny said. “I’ve only been here a few hours and I’ve gotten lost three times already. Maybe you could show me where you spend your quiet time.”
Riley pushed away from the table, dramatically rolling her eyes as she did so. If Hannah noticed his daughter’s theatrics, she chose to ignore them.
“If you’ll excuse us, Your Highness,” she said.
“Of course.” He rose with her, and watched as she followed Riley into the house.
He wasn’t pleased by his daughter’s behavior, but he didn’t know what to do about it. As much as he loved Riley, he wasn’t blind to her faults. But the adolescent attitude in the preschooler’s body was just one more of the challenges of parenting a gifted child, or so he’d been told. Was Riley’s behavior atypical—or did he just not know what was typical for a child of her age?
Surely any four-year-old going through a period of adjustment would need some time, and losing her longtime nanny was definitely an adjustment. He hoped that within a few days, after Riley had a chance to get to know Hannah and settle into new routines with her, her usual sunny disposition would return.
After all, it was a new situation for all of them, and it was only day one.
But as he made his way back to his office, he found himself thinking that he probably missed Brigitte even more than his daughter did. Everything had run smoothly when Brigitte was around.
More importantly, he’d never felt any tugs of attraction for the former nanny like the ones he was feeling now for Hannah.
Chapter Four
According to Brigitte’s schedule, Riley’s quiet time was from two o’clock until three-thirty. When that time came and went, Hannah didn’t worry. She figured the little girl wouldn’t still be sleeping if she wasn’t tired, and since there wasn’t anything else on her schedule until an art class at four-thirty, she opted not to disturb her before then.
Hannah was staring at her laptop screen when she heard, through the open door across the hallway, what sounded like drawers being pulled open and shut. She immediately closed the lid on her computer, wishing she could as easily shut down the shock and betrayal evoked by her father’s email announcement.
He’d gotten married, without ever telling her of his plans, without even letting her meet the woman who was now his wife.