Prince Daddy & the Nanny

He shook his head, trying to find solace in the fact that their agreement was for only two months, but he was beginning to question why he’d been in such a hurry to replace Brigitte. Had he been thinking of Riley—or had he been more concerned about maintaining the status quo in his own life? Or maybe he’d been spellbound by Miss Castillo’s sparkling eyes and warm smile. Regardless of his reasons, he knew it wasn’t her fault that he’d hired her on the basis of some mistaken assumptions. But if she was going to spend the summer with Riley, she had a lot to learn—and fast.

“You’ll need this,” he said, passing a sheaf of papers across the desk.

In the transfer of the pages, her fingers brushed against his. It was a brief and incidental contact, but he felt the jolt sizzle in his veins. Her gaze shot to meet his, and the widening of her eyes confirmed that she’d felt it, too. That undeniable tug of a distinctly sexual attraction.

As he looked into her eyes, he realized he’d made another mistake in thinking that they were blue—they were actually more gray than blue, the color of the sky before a storm, and just as mesmerizing.

Then she glanced away, down at the papers he’d given to her, and he wondered if maybe he’d imagined both her reaction and his own.

“What is this?” she asked him.

“It’s Riley’s schedule.”

She looked back at him, then at the papers again. “You’re kidding.”

“A child needs consistency,” he said firmly, because it was something Brigitte had always insisted upon, and he usually deferred to the nanny with respect to decisions about his daughter’s care.

“If you’re referring to a prescribed bedtime, I would absolutely agree,” Hannah said. “But a child also needs a chance to be spontaneous and creative, and this—” she glanced at the chart again, obviously appalled “—this even schedules her bathroom breaks.”

Maybe the charts Brigitte had prepared for the new nanny did provide a little too much detail, but he understood that she’d only wanted to ease the transition for both Riley and her temporary caregiver. “Brigitte found that taking Riley to the bathroom at prescribed times greatly simplified the toilet-training process.”

“But she’s almost four years old now,” Hannah noted. “I’m sure …” Her words trailed off, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry—I just didn’t expect that there would be so much to occupy her time.”

He’d had some concerns initially, too, but Brigitte had made him see the benefits for Riley. Maybe she was young, but she was so mature for her age, so focused, and she was learning so much. She had a natural musical talent, an artistic touch and a gift for languages, and there was no way he was going to let this temporary nanny upset the status quo with questions and criticisms on her first day on the job. Even if her doubts echoed his own.

“It is now almost eleven o’clock, Miss Castillo,” he pointed out to her.

She glanced at the page in her hand. “I guess that means it’s almost time for the princess’s piano lesson.”

“The music room is at the end of the hall.”

She folded the schedule and dropped a curtsy.

He deliberately refocused his attention back on the papers on his desk so that he wouldn’t watch her walk away.

But he couldn’t deny that she tempted him in more ways than he was ready to acknowledge.

Chapter Three

Well, that hadn’t gone quite as she’d expected, Hannah thought as she exited Prince Michael’s office. And she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, not just with their meeting but in the man himself. She’d thought he might want to talk to her about Riley’s favorite activities at the beach, give her some suggestions on how to keep the little girl busy and happy, but she’d gotten the impression he only wanted her to keep the child occupied and out of his way.

As she made her way down the hall in search of the princess, she realized that she’d never actually seen him with his daughter. The first time she’d met Riley—the day of the ice cream mishap at the art gallery—the little girl had been in the care of her nanny. When Hannah had arrived at the prince’s house to interview for the position, Riley had been out with Brigitte. She’d gone back for a second visit, to spend some time with the child so that she wouldn’t be a complete stranger to her when she showed up at Cielo del Norte, but she hadn’t seen the prince at all on that occasion.

Now he was in his office, and the princess was apparently somewhere else in this labyrinth of rooms preparing for a piano lesson. Did they always lead such separate lives? Did the prince really intend to spend most of his supposed holiday at his desk?

Once she’d gotten over her wariness about taking a job for which she had no experience, she’d actually found herself looking forward to spending the summer with the young princess. She’d imagined that they would play in the water and have picnics on the beach. She hadn’t anticipated that the little girl wouldn’t have time for fun and frivolity. Yes, she’d been born royal and would someday have duties and obligations as a result, but she wasn’t even four years old yet.

Brigitte had made a point of telling Hannah—several times—that Riley was an exceptionally bright and gifted child who was already reading at a second-grade level—in French. She’d encouraged the young princess to demonstrate her talents at the piano, and Riley had done so willingly enough. Hannah couldn’t help but be impressed, but in the back of her mind, she wondered why the child didn’t seem happy.

Somehow that question had Hannah thinking about what she’d been doing as a four-year-old. Her own childhood had hardly been traditional, but it had been fun. In whatever village had been their current home, she’d always had lots of local children to play with. She’d raced over the hills and played hide-and-seek in the trees. She’d gone swimming in watering holes and rivers and streams. She’d created rudimentary sculptures out of riverbank clay and built houses and castles from mud and grass.

Her parents had never worried about the lack of formal education, insisting that the life skills she was learning were far more important than reading and writing. While the teacher in her cringed at that philosophy now, she did understand the importance of balance between life and learning.

At the princess’s age, she’d picked up some words and phrases in Swahili and Hausa and Manyika, enough to communicate with the other kids on a basic level; Riley was studying French, Italian and German out of textbooks. And whereas Hannah had learned music by banging on tribal drums or shaking and rattling dried seed pods, Riley had lessons from professional instructors.

She could hear the piano now, and followed the sound of the sharp, crisp notes to the music room to find the prince’s daughter practicing scales on a glossy white Steinway.

She was sitting in the middle of the piano bench, her feet—clad in ruffled ankle socks and white patent Mary Janes—dangling several inches above the polished marble floor. Her long, dark hair was neatly plaited and tied with a pink bow. Her dress was the same shade of cotton candy, with ruffles at the bottoms of the sleeves and skirt. The housekeeper was in the corner, dusting some knickknacks on a shelf and surreptitiously keeping an eye on the princess.

The soaring ceiling was set off with an enormous chandelier dripping with crystals, but the light was unnecessary as the late-morning sun spilled through the tall, arched windows that faced the ocean. The other walls were hung with gorgeous woven tapestries, and while Hannah guessed that their placement was more likely for acoustics than aesthetics, the effect was no less breathtaking.

Suddenly, the fingers moving so smoothly over the ivory keys stopped abruptly. Riley swiveled on the bench, a dark scowl on her pretty face. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hello, Riley,” Hannah said pleasantly.

“What are you doing in here?” the princess asked again.

“I wanted to hear you practice.”

“I like to be alone when I practice,” she said, demonstrating that she’d inherited her father’s mood as well as his dark eyes.

Hannah just shrugged, refusing to let the little girl’s attitude affect her own. “I can wait in the hall until you’re finished.”

“I have my French lesson after piano.”

Hannah referred to the schedule she’d been given, which confirmed Riley’s statement. “I’ll see you at lunch, then.”

The princess’s nod dismissed her as definitively as the prince had done only a few minutes earlier.

On her way out, Hannah passed the piano teacher coming in.

The older woman had a leather bag over her shoulder and determination in her step. Clearly she had a purpose for being here. Hannah had yet to figure out her own.

The conference call that Michael had rescheduled came through at precisely eleven o’clock and concluded twenty minutes later. A long time after that, he was still struggling to accept what he’d learned about Miss Castillo—high school teacher turned temporary nanny.

Phillip Marotta had said only that she was a teacher; Michael had assumed that meant she had experience with children. Because he trusted the royal physician implicitly, he had taken the doctor’s recommendation without question. Apparently he should have asked some questions, but he acknowledged that the mistake had been his own.

Still, despite the new nanny’s apparent lack of experience, he knew that the doctor had stronger reasons than nepotism for suggesting his niece for the job. And from what Brigitte had told him, Riley seemed to accept her easily enough. Of course, his daughter had had so many doctors and teachers and instructors in and out of her life that she accepted most newcomers without any difficulty.

So why was he uneasy about Miss Castillo’s presence at Cielo del Norte? Was he really concerned about Riley—or himself?

When Sam died, he’d thought he would never stop grieving the loss. He was certain he would never stop missing her. But over the years, the pain had gradually started to fade, and Riley’s easy affection had begun to fill the emptiness in his heart. He’d been grateful for that, and confident that the love of his little girl was enough.

He didn’t need romance or companionship—or so he’d believed until Hannah walked into his life. But he couldn’t deny that the new nanny affected him in a way that no woman had done in a very long time.

A brisk knock at the door gave him a reprieve from these melancholy thoughts.

“Lunch will be served on the terrace as soon as you’re ready,” Caridad told him.