Chapter Three

Nic

THE rich leather of his town car was trying its damnedest to drag Nic into a nap on his long ride home from the airport. Instead of succumbing to fatigue, he kept his laptop open and finished the last few memos needing attention before he could finally call it a night. His trip had been a resounding success. Two weeks of hell and hard work in Italy trying to ensure all the paperwork was complete before he left, but now, they owned a direct supply of handcrafted Italian leather, considerably cutting costs at Leighton Price. Next on the agenda, he needed to acquire a few more clients or significantly increase existing contracts.

As the car left the ferry, he clicked his laptop shut. He probably should have taken the helicopter instead of opting for the car ride. It didn’t escape him that his reluctance to meet the new nanny and deal with the kids might’ve had something to do with his choice to delay his arrival. At least Sasha Lindsey seemed to be well-qualified, with CPR certification, a math degree, and teaching experience. After coming straight from a middle school, she had to have experience with troublesome children.

Thankfully, Percy had dealt with choosing the final candidates from the few applicants he’d found through the service, Sasha being the best one by far. At least Percy wouldn’t be at the mansion when he arrived. The condemnation had practically dripped from every communiqué from Percy since Nic had left for Italy. The man was not happy Nicolas had missed Thanksgiving, though Nic couldn’t figure out why his friend made such a big deal about it. No one else would miss Nic being there, most certainly not Lucy and Ben.

The car finally turned and traveled along the smooth, stone-paved drive, passing under an enclosed walkway connecting Nic’s waterfront Vashon mansion to the high, rounded viewpoint tower on the north side of the driveway. After stopping right in front of the wide double doors, he didn’t bother waiting for the driver before he exited the vehicle, but then, he immediately froze at the sight of his classic, slate-blue manor trimmed with white.

Usually classic. Now garish. Snaking lights in primary colors framed the abundant windows, and two enormous wreaths dwarfed the entrance, one on each door. There were so many strands of Christmas lights, it was probably causing a brownout somewhere on the island. Ridiculous. No way Percy was responsible for this wasteful display. His friend knew better than to flaunt frivolous holiday crap anywhere near him.

He’d barely taken another two steps when a glance toward the east lawn facing the waterfront froze him in place again. Huge things littered the manicured lawn, massive, blown-up, lit-up figures and towering candy canes taller than Nicolas. A larger-than-life Rudolph leaned over precariously and appeared to give Santa one hell of a good morning. Great. How long had these tacky monstrosities been out for the neighbors to witness?

Leaving his driver to collect his baggage, Nicolas jogged up the few steps to the door, gave one of the heavy wreaths a withering glare, and stepped through.

“Kids,” he called from the foyer. “Ben. Lucy.”

No one answered, but a murmur of excited voices rang out nearby. Several long steps and a right turn brought him across the foyer and into a wide-open den with floor-to-ceiling views of the water. Or what would be the view if someone hadn’t puked Christmas all over his lawn.

And put a six-foot-tall tree in the center of the curved bay of windows. The sharp tang of pine permeated the room, and brittle needles littered a path to where the tree tilted pitifully to the right. No, it wasn’t tilted in the stand but rather bent along the spindly trunk. Several small gaps between clumps of tree limbs resembled Ben’s hair after he’d used clippers on himself a few years back.

Nic drew his focus off the eyesore in his den to the kids huddled around the coffee table in front of the sofa. Lucy squinted in concentration as she speared a piece of popcorn with a needle, her long curly blond hair trying to escape the clip restraining it at her nape. Beside her, Ben popped a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth, losing several onto the carpet, before attempting to add a piece to his short thread of homemade garland.

What the fuck? The den was trashed. It would take more than a good Hoover to suck the dried bits of tree from the carpet, and somehow, the popcorn had ended up everywhere, not only around the table where the kids worked. Nic’s blood pressure shot up to dangerous levels, and his fists clenched as he fought the urge to blow up. This was the last thing he needed right now. On Sunday, his parents would be over for brunch, giving Nic only one day to get the mansion to rights before they arrived.

Another burst of laughter from the kids galvanized him, driving his feet forward until he stood over them. This situation was far from funny. Lucy and Ben should have been studying and working on homework instead of screwing around with garish Christmas decorations. The two kids noticed him finally, their laughter dying like a switch flipped somewhere. Lucy jumped to her feet, rubbing her hands down the sides of her faded jeans.

“H-Hi, Uncle Nic. Did you have a good trip?”

Not in any mood for small talk, Nic ignored her question. “What the hell is all this?” He gestured broadly around the den. “Where’s Ms. Lindsey? Hasn’t she been watching you two?”

Ben tucked his knees toward his chest and continued threading his popcorn without even a glance at Nic, his lips forming a tight line. However, Lucy narrowed her eyes and gave him a smirk in response.

“I’m not in the mood for games. Where is she, Lucy?”

She cleared her throat and looked over Nic’s shoulder. “Ms. Lindsey just walked in.”

Bracing himself to get rid of yet another caretaker, Nic drew a deep breath and turned. Immediately, the breath whooshed out of his lungs. A sudden gut punch couldn’t have taken him more by surprise than the man standing in front of him, holding a tray with three steaming beverage mugs.

“Hi, Sasha. What took you so long?” Lucy said from behind Nic in her chirpy, fake-cheery voice. The man didn’t seem to hear her at first, his bright cobalt eyes surveying Nic from top to bottom. Barefoot, his dirty blond hair deliciously tousled, and wearing somewhat loose jeans and a rumpled blue T-shirt that matched his eyes, the man—Sasha—appeared freshly rolled out from a nap.

A jolt of interest spread heat through Nic’s body, centered right at his groin. If Nic had an ideal dream man, this was him—slightly shorter than Nic with broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist, an athletic build without too much bulk, and thick, iron-hard thighs perfect for wrapping securely around a man’s hips.

“It’s not from a mix, Lucy. Best things in life are worth waiting for.” The rich, deep voice had a slight rasp to it that only added to the “just awoken” image in Nic’s head, sending a lick of sensation dancing right along Nic’s spine.

Despite his answer having been directed at Lucy, Sasha’s eyes never strayed from Nic. After only a moment’s hesitation, he continued toward Nic and leaned down beside him to place the tray on the coffee table.

As he stood, he offered his hand. “Sasha Lindsey. Glad to finally meet you, Mr. Price.”

Sasha’s grip was firm, strong, and didn’t last nearly long enough. Eyes up, Nic. Fuck! Dragging his eyes away from Sasha’s masculine hands, lined with sexy veins roping along his muscular arms, Nic fought the urge to drift his gaze lower to the bulge below Sasha’s waistband.

“Call me Nic.” As much as he enjoyed the sound of Sasha calling him “Mister,” he didn’t relish being called by his father’s name at home on a daily basis. When a throat cleared behind him, he glanced over his shoulder to where both kids watched him with wide eyes and raised brows. Though he’d love to sort them out about proper treatment of his home in his absence, he needed to deal with the manny first. Maybe without the audience, though.

He turned back to Sasha. “I was expecting…. Um, well.”

Sasha’s genuine, throaty laugh revealed sinful dimples that made Nic’s breath catch in his throat.

“You were expecting a spinsterly old woman in support hose, weren’t you?”

Nic couldn’t help chuckling despite his frustration over the state of his house. “Something along those lines. Can you, uh, spare a few minutes to talk?” He tipped his head toward the foyer outside the den.

Sasha nodded, still grinning, and then pointed at the kids. “You two drink your cider before it gets cold.”

The warmth in their answering smiles smacked into Nic’s head like a two-by-four. When was the last time he’d seen them smile like that? Or smile at all? Granted he’d been gone for a couple of weeks, and he’d been too busy holding the business afloat lately to spend much time with them, but even when they were younger, the expression had been a rare occurrence. Except before, when their mother was still alive.

What would Josie think if she saw her kids now? If only there’d been someone more fitting to raise Lucy and Ben, some nurturing godparents somewhere. Because heaven knew he was fucking everything up with them. As he led the way to the foyer, Nic clenched his jaw. He didn’t have time or energy to fix things with them yet, not with the company struggling, his parents breathing down his neck, and all his late hours. Fuck if he even had a clue how to deal with the kids and get them on the right track, but a good start would be getting rid of this manny, who obviously couldn’t maintain discipline with them.

Problem was, now that he’d seen the manny, he wasn’t sure his libido was ready to get rid of the golden-haired Adonis.