The Playboy And The Nanny. Anne McAllister
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wasn’t. “It’s not funny. I have a reputation to uphold. Standards to maintain.”
“I wouldn’t give you a nickel for your reputation now, sweetheart,” Nikos said cheerfully. “Or your standads. ”
“Mr. Costanides will be upset.”
“I devoutly hope so.” He wondered if the old man was even now bearing down on the cottage, determined to rescue Mary Poppins from his grip.
“He expected me at three. It’s important for me to arrive on time,” she said. “To be punctual. To be fair. To be strict. Mr. Costanides says his son needs that.”
Did he? Nikos didn’t know Alex well enough to say. Certainly the kid wasn’t as headstrong as he’d been.
“Punctual. Fair. Strict. You must be a regular paragon. I’m sure you’ll impress the hell out of him,” he said lazily. “What other virtues do you have?”
“I don’t use profanity,” she said.
Ah, so she could sting when she wanted to. Nikos grinned. “Little brat getting out of hand? Don’t want him turning out like his big brother, do we?”
The nanny looked perplexed. “Big brother? Are there two children? Mr. Costanides didn’t mention a brother.”
“I’m not surprised,” Nikos said drily.
“But, yes,” Miss Mari Lewis went on quite sincerely, “he did say Nikos had been giving him some problems.”
“What?”
His yelp caused her to jump. But instead of answering him, she folded her hands in her lap, pressed her lips together, and looked like he’d have to torture the information out of her.
“What did you say?” Nikos demanded again.
She gave a quick determined shake of her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Not about the child—or his behavior. It’s indiscreet. Improper. It’s entirely between me and my employer.”
But Nikos wasn’t listening to her babbling. “The boy,” he demanded, hobbling close, glowering down at her. “What did you call him?”
Mari Lewis blinked at him like some near-sighted owl, but he wasn’t ruffling her feathers. She lifted her chin, as if to tell him he wasn’t going to intimidate her. Then, “Nikos,” she said, exactly as he’d thought she had.
His teeth came together with a snap. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No,” he said again. “His name is Alexander.”
“No,” she replied just as firmly, “it’s not.”
She reached down and picked her bag up and pulled out a contract. She held it out toward him. “See for yourself. It says right there. His name is Nikos. I might have got the wrong cottage, but I have not got the wrong child!”
Yes, she damned well had!
But, from his father’s standpoint, obviously, no, she had not.
The old man hadn’t been apoplectic at all. He might have been a little astonished when Nikos had hauled Mary Poppins into his arms and kissed her, but ultimately he would have been amused—and justified.
His son’s flagrant disregard for propriety, his inappropriate kissing of a total stranger would have only underscored Stavros’s notion that he had done the right thing.
The old rogue had hired a nanny to straighten him out!
Far from running down here to rescue her, the old man was probably standing up on the deck now, congratulating himself—and laughing his fool head off.
Nikos’s teeth came together with a snap. His headache returned with a vengeance. He dropped his head back and shut his eyes, his mind whirling furiously. And furious was the operative word.
“I’ll shape you up if it’s the last thing I do. ” His father’s words came back to haunt him. To mock him. To humiliate him.
It was Stavros Costanides, down to the ground.
“Mr....er...I’m sorry, I don’t know your name—” the very proper nanny’s voice broke into his bitter reverie “—but you really do have to let me go. I have to find the right cottage. I have to—”
Nikos opened his eyes and glared at her.
She blinked again, but met his gaze determinedly.
Just how determined was she? He couldn’t imagine. He could bet, though. And he was willing to bet he could run her off in less than twenty-four hours.
A corner of his mouth tipped up slightly. Did the old man think he was just going to roll over and give up his wicked ways without a fight?
Well, if he did, he’d vastly underestimated his older son.
Whatever he was paying Miss Mari Lewis, it had better be a bundle. She was damned well going to earn it.
“You don’t have the wrong cottage,” Nikos told her.
“But you said—” She looked around, puzzled. “But... where’s Nikos?”
He smiled. It was a hard smile. There was nothing pleasant about it. “I’m Nikos.”
She gaped at him.
“Welcome to your new job, Ms. Lewis. Apparently my father has hired you to babysit me.”
He was obviously a madman.
But he was the most stunningly handsome madman she’d ever seen. He had dark brown eyes and tousled black hair, a lean face with high cheekbones and a wicked-looking dimple just to one side of his mouth that deepened when he gave her that bitter smile of his.
And he kissed like—
Mari didn’t want to think about what he kissed like! She’d never been kissed like that in her life!
A lesser woman—many lesser women, she was sure—would have fallen panting at his feet,
Mari Lewis was made of sterner stuff.
She had a job to fulfill, a reputation to uphold, a magazine ad and article to live up to, and a pair of lovable, impractical, dangerously gullible aunts to support.
And despite the fact that her heart was still hammering and her head was still spinning and her lips were still tingling, she needed to find Stavros Costanides. And she needed to do it fast.
But how? When Mr. Whoever-he-was was sitting next to the door, looking as if he would pounce on her if she made a move in that direction.
“Look, Mr....” She paused.
“Costanides,” he said helpfully. He smiled again. The same humorless smile he’d smiled before. However heart-stopping it was, his smile wasn’t meant to be friendly. It wasn’t even, she was fairly sure, meant to be attractive. Unfortunately it was. The dimple deepened again.
She wanted to touch it, To touch him. Again. Help! Determinedly Mari looked away and forced herself to say in a level tone, “Mr. Costanides, then. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but—”
“You’d do better wondering why my father is doing this.”
“Your father?”
“The well-known despot, Stavros Costanides. You know? Older than me. Mustache.” He parroted back her description. “The man who hired you.”
“To take care of his little boy.”
“To take care of Nikos,” her fully-grown, very masculine nemesis agreed. He poked his chest. “Me.”
“But that’s ridiculous!”
“You’re telling me,” he muttered. His smile faded and suddenly