Not Just the Nanny - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,2

in the room turned desert-dry. She wanted to put out a hand to steady herself, but she was afraid whatever she touched would emit a jolting shock.

Bras? she thought. Dirty? Did one of those two words made it feel so...so naughty to be this close to him?

Mick blinked, severing the connection, then he turned away to grab a glass from the cupboard by the sink. With a steady hand, he filled it with water and took a long drink in a gesture so casual she figured she must have imagined that moment of...of...whatever.

Wishful thinking on her part?

Kayla cleared her throat and folded her arms over her chest, the shirt fluttering at her hips. Maybe if she wore something other than jeans and flannel around him, he might notice her. But he'd had years to do that - summers when she'd been in shorts and tank tops, vacations by a pool when she'd worn a swimsuit that wasn't Sports Illustrated - ready but that didn't cover her like a tent, either. He'd never appeared the slightest bit intrigued by any of it. When she'd recently cut twelve inches from her long hair he hadn't noticed for two weeks, and then only when someone else mentioned it.

Upon inspection of the new do, he'd appeared appalled by the change. She'd felt stupid, like that time he'd caught her about to bestow a good-night kiss on a date on the doorstep. The fact that she'd been glad of the interruption, and that afterward she'd daydreamed in her bed of Mick pulling her away from the other man and into his own arms instead, hadn't been good signs.

That event had occurred six months ago, and since then she hadn't dated anyone - or shown any interest in dating anyone - which had prompted Betsy's earlier conversation.

"Well," Mick said, pulling open the dishwasher to rack his glass, "I guess I'll head out now. Have fun."

"You, too."

He strode toward the door that led to the garage, then hesitated. "Kayla," he said.

Her heart jumped. "Yes?"

"In case I've never said it..."

She held her breath.

"You're great. You've always been great." He swung around. Reached out. "Such a pal to me," he added, patting her shoulder.

Her skin jittered, his light touch zinging all the way through the heavy plaid fabric of her shirt.

No. Make that his shirt. She'd been attached to it like a new fiancee to her engagement ring since the last time she'd removed it from the dryer.

"Yeah." He patted her again. "Such a pal to me."

And as he walked away, the appreciative words slid down her throat like a medicinal dose of disappointment to land like lead at the bottom of her belly. Who knew that "such a pal to me" could cause such gloom?

But somehow it did, because...

Oh, boy. Oh, no. Oh, it was useless to deny the truth any longer.

Betsy was right, it seemed. Kayla had shattered the number-one item on the no-no list. Because the cardinal rule of nannies was simple.

Never fall in love with the daddy.

It wasn't until the barmaid set the cold beer in front of Mick that he actually registered his surroundings. He looked around the place that should have been as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He'd been coming to O'Hurley's with his buddies Will, Austin and Owen for years.

"When the hell did they paint the walls?" he groused, scanning the cream-colored surface. "What was wrong with dingy gray?" Then he craned his neck to inspect the rest of the interior. "And new TVs? Were the other ones broken?"

Austin stared at him, his dark eyes perplexed. "Dude. Flat-screens. Each of 'em as big as the back end of my grandma's Buick. You'd rather watch the game on something smaller?"

Mick lifted his beer for a swallow. "I'd prefer things to stay just as they were," he mumbled.

Owen's brows rose. "Good God, Mick. You sound like a grumpy old man. Next you'll be yelling at kids to get off your lawn."

He felt like a grumpy old man. That was the problem. The store department he always averted his eyes from was now the new playground for his preteen daughter. His son was out of T-ball already. His nanny was a college graduate.

"The kids in my house are almost too old to play on the grass," he said. "Lee and Jane and Kayla are growing up before my eyes. I'm almost afraid to blink."

"Mick..." His friend and fellow firefighter Will Dailey wasn't blinking. He was staring, just like Austin had