Maid for the Single Dad Page 5

“I’m Mac.” He paused significantly. “Everyone calls me Mac.”

  “Okay, Mac,” she said, trying out the name and finding it was much easier to call him by his first name than it should be given that she was his maid. “I’ll take care of Lacy’s breakfast. You can go on back to bed.”

  “I’m home. I take care of the kids when I’m home. Remember?”

  “Yes, but it’s so early.”

  “So why don’t you go back to bed?”

  She pressed her had to her chest. “Me?”

  “There’s no point in both of us being up at four.”

  He wasn’t angry and what he said made sense. Now that she’d totally squelched her instincts, the entire situation made perfect sense. She took a step backward, toward the door. “Okay, then. I guess I will go back to bed.”

  She turned to leave the kitchen, but Mac stopped her. “Ellie?”

  She faced him. “Yes?”

  “I don’t always get up with her. When I’m working I usually sleep through her early-morning-wake-up days. So I appreciate that you’re okay with this.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d let her intuition talk her into thinking there was something wrong here. Yes, she might not know where the kids’ mom was, but Mac was a normal man. A good dad. A good guy. She had been wrong to be suspicious of him.

  She smiled her best professional, I’m-your-maid smile. “You’re welcome.”

  She left the room, glad that everything was handled amicably. But halfway up the stairs she stopped as another question confronted her. Why would a six-year-old get up at four o’clock—or close—every day?

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Mac might be an okay guy, but she couldn’t dismiss her suspicions so easily. No matter how or why Lacy’s mom had left, losing her mom had affected her. Without knowing the truth, Ellie could make a million mistakes with that little girl.

  Three hours later, with Lacy fed and back to bed for a morning nap, Mac headed for his office, then realized he couldn’t go there because it was too far away. He changed directions and headed for the master suite. Halfway down the hall, his cell phone rang. He glanced at caller ID and saw it was his investigator, and not a moment too soon.

  “Hey, Phil.”

  “Hey, Mac. I’ve got some news on your new girl.”

  Mac opened the door to his suite, stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. “Spill.”

  “Well, she’s from Wisconsin.”

  Walking to one of the two white chairs in front of the never used fireplace, Mac laughed. “You say that as if it’s bad, but this is Florida. Lots of us are Northern transplants.”

  “It’s not the part about coming from up north that’s bad. Your new housekeeper was a foster child.”

  That stopped him. “Oh. Why is that bad?”

  “It isn’t. I mean, it doesn’t positively indicate bad things. Lots of foster kids grow up to be perfectly normal. But that’s not the end of the story on your temporary maid. She ran away at age seventeen. Didn’t finish high school.”

  “How does a seventeen-year-old support herself in a strange city without an education?”

  “That’s just it. The possibilities that come to mind aren’t good ones. If she worked on the street or under the table, from here on out it’s going to be harder and harder to find information.”

  “I don’t care. Whatever it costs, you fill in the blanks of her past.”

  “Not only is that going to be expensive, but also it will take days.”

  “Again, I don’t care. This woman is going to be caring for my kids. I want to know everything about her.”

  Phil said, “Will do, boss.”

  Blowing his breath out on a sigh, Mac disconnected the call and leaned back in his chair. Being attracted to an employee was bad enough; being attracted to someone he didn’t know—at all—who had missing pieces of her past was downright foolhardy.

  In fact, he’d have to watch her very, very carefully over the next few days as his security team continued their investigation. If she made one move he didn’t like, he’d have to let her go. He wasn’t worried about the silver or the artwork or even money she might find. He was concerned for his kids. God only knew what Ellie had done in the years after she ran away from home. Without a high school education, as a runaway on the streets, she could have been a thief…or worse.

  After doing some cleaning, Ellie once again took out her cookbook and cruised the well-stocked Carmichael cupboards. She found the ingredients for many of the recipes, but she also found boxes of ready-to-cook hamburger dishes, noodle entrées and macaroni and cheese. Maybe the Carmichael pallet wasn’t so sophisticated after all? Mac did have a six-year-old, and children did like to eat food they saw on TV. So maybe the thing to do would be prepare simple lunches of the prepackaged foods and cook more elaborate—more nutritious—suppers?

  Satisfied with that decision, she headed to her room for a half-hour break before she had to return to the kitchen and prepare lunch. After turning on the television to listen to the day’s news, she began taking inventory of the clothes she’d brought. Knowing she’d be here at least a month, she realized the few jeans, shorts and tops she’d packed wouldn’t be enough. Especially if she needed to take the children somewhere that required more than casual clothes.

  But that was fine. She could go back to her apartment and get more clothes once she had a handle on what kinds of things she’d be doing. In fact, with the temperature as warm as it had been, she might want to make a run back to her apartment for a bathing suit.

  At eleven-thirty, she scampered downstairs to prepare a box of the macaroni and cheese she’d found. But when she made the turn to get into the kitchen she found Lacy already at the weathered table and Mac standing at the counter slathering peanut butter on bread.

  “I was just about to make macaroni.”

  Lacy’s face lit up, but Mac said, “We’re fine.”

  “I know you wanted me to spend these first few days getting oriented, but I’m all set now. Ready to handle this job completely. I can make today’s lunch.”

  “I’ve got lunch, Ms. Swanson.”

  Finding it curious that he wanted her to call him Mac, yet he had just called her Ms. Swanson, she ambled over to the counter. “Peanut butter sandwiches again?”

  “Lacy likes peanut butter.”

  “I like macaroni too,” Lacy said hopefully.

  “I’ll make that tomorrow,” Mac said, dropping another slice of peanut butter bread onto the paper plate and walking it to the table. Lacy frowned and sent Ellie a pleading look.

  Ellie half smiled at Lacy. This was it. One of those tests household employees were forced to use. If she pushed him and he barked, she’d know to back off and never push him again. But if she pushed him and he relented, then she’d know there were things about which he could be reasonable.

  “It really is no trouble for me to make a box of macaroni.”

  Mac said, “We’re fine—” at the same time that Lacy said, “Please.”

  The pleading in Lacy’s voice, sent Ellie into action. Surely he couldn’t resist his daughter? She headed for the stove. “Seriously, Mac. It’s no trouble.”

  Mac pressed his lips together as if to prevent himself from saying something he’d regret. After a few seconds he quietly said, “That’s all Ms. Swanson. You may finish your cleaning or take your break. Whatever is on your schedule now. But Lacy and I don’t require your services.”

  Wide-eyed Lacy immediately glanced down at her sandwich. Ellie swallowed and took a step back. She’d just learned two things. He didn’t relent, but also this was a man who didn’t need to yell to let everybody know he was furious.

  Ellie took another step back and prudently said, “I’ll be upstairs cleaning.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sucking in another breath, Ellie ran upstairs. It had been foolish to anger him—doubly foolish for him to get angry over something so trite. But she’d had to push to see how far she could push. Now she
knew. Clearly, she’d overstepped her boundaries. And though Mac’s volume had been civil, his tone had told her he wasn’t pleased.

  She wouldn’t care if this were just a matter of her job security. As far as she was concerned she could leave tomorrow. But this wasn’t about her. This was about Liz and Cain. Liz getting referrals and Cain getting his “in” with Carmichael Incorporated. Surely, she couldn’t have blown it over trying to make macaroni?

  Not about to go to her room where she’d pace and chastise herself for being stupid, Ellie headed for the laundry room. She set the washer to begin filling, then retrieved the baskets of dirty clothes from the kids’ rooms. Seeing that she didn’t really have enough for a load, she frowned.

  The obvious thing to do would be go into Mac’s room and get his dirty clothes to round out the loads. She narrowed her eyes, considering that, and realized that she didn’t feel as uncomfortable going into his room today as she had yesterday. All those feelings of attraction she’d been feeling had been snuffed out by the way he’d just treated her.

  She almost laughed. Nobody liked being reprimanded, but Mac’s behavior might have actually made her time here more tolerable. She wouldn’t have to worry about wayward hormones around him anymore.

  Her head high, she strode to the master suite door, twisted the knob and marched inside.

  A sitting room greeted her. Comfortable white leather chairs sat atop a yellow-, green- and cream-colored Oriental rug on the honey-brown hardwood floors, creating a conversation grouping in front of a fireplace that Ellie would bet had never been used. The room was spotless. There wasn’t even a book on the table between the two chairs. It was almost as if no one had ever set foot in this room.

  She frowned. Maybe no one had? There were plenty of other places in this house for Mac to read or watch TV. He probably only used this suite to—she swallowed—sleep. In pajama bottoms, with his chest bare and his muscles exposed.

  Damn it! She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him.

  She gingerly made her way to the bedroom and was surprised when she stepped inside. While her room had a gorgeous black four-poster bed with elaborate bedspread and matching drapes, this room had a simple wooden bed. A queen-size at best. The spread was an almost ugly red-and-yellow print that matched the equally ugly drapes. The area rug beneath the bed was a tortured brown.

  She walked to the center of the room and turned in a circle. If she were rich, she’d sue the person who designed this room. As ugly as it was, she was almost afraid to go into the bathroom. But that was where the clothes basket was. In a tidy little cupboard beneath the sink. At least that was where the kids’ had been.

  With a deep breath for courage, she walked into the bathroom and blinked. It was huge and gorgeous. Turning in a circle again, she took in the shower, complete with an enormous showerhead and six body jets. As in her bathroom, there was a spa tub. An open door in the back of the room revealed a walk-in closet.

  Okay. So the house itself wasn’t ugly, but Mac’s ex-wife’s tastes left a lot to be desired.

  As she thought the last, she heard the click of the door-knob to the suite and she froze. Oh, great! Here she was standing in the bathroom of his suite like an idiot, obviously snooping! If he hadn’t fired her before, he’d probably fire her now. She shot for the cupboard beneath the double sink, hoping she’d find the laundry basket there. As she opened the door, brown wicker greeted her and she just barely had time to yank it out before he walked in.

  “Oh, Mr.—Mac.” She lowered her head and started for the door. “Just collecting the laundry.”

  “Actually, I’ve been looking for you.”

  She swallowed and glanced up, meeting his gaze. “You have?”

  He nodded. “I know you’re not a professional nanny. I know you’re not even a real maid. But when I give an order you are not to contradict me.”

  “I didn’t realize making peanut butter sandwiches was an order.”

  Damn it! Why had she said that? Why hadn’t she simply said, “Yes, sir,” and gotten the hell out of here!

  His eyes narrowed at her. “Anything I say and do in this house—especially if it pertains to my children—is an order. Do you understand that?”

  This time she did say, “Yes, sir.” She actually got halfway to the bedroom door, before something inside her rose up and she couldn’t stop herself from turning around. Mac stood by the ugly, ugly, ugly bed. He was gruff. His house was a museum. His daughter was adorable, but subdued. She got up at four o’clock in the morning because she couldn’t sleep. Probably because she was nervous. Probably because her dad was so…unbendable.

  “All she wanted was a little macaroni.”

  Mac gaped at her. “Are you questioning me?”

  Feeling a strong need to help Lacy, she lifted her chin. “Maybe I’m confused because I’m not a full-time employee,” she said, trying to soften the blow. “Maybe I’m confused because I’m also not a parent. But I can’t see what difference it would have made to let her eat a little macaroni. She’s a kid. She was hungry.”

  Mac sucked in a breath. Once again Ellie got the impression he was controlling his temper. Fear flooded her. She knew better than to anger a man. Yet, here she was arguing about macaroni. No, she was arguing for Lacy. The kid was a kid, yet in two days Ellie had only seen her playing once. She hadn’t been able to choose her own lunch. Something was wrong here!

  Finally Mac slowly said, “I was feeding her. And I’ll make her macaroni tomorrow.”

  “But she wanted macaroni today.”

  Mac squeezed his eyes shut. “Miss Swanson, go do the laundry.”

  An odd sense of empowerment swelled in Ellie. He was furious with her for questioning him. Yet, he hadn’t made a move toward her. He hadn’t even yelled.

  Still, she wouldn’t push her luck.

  That afternoon while both kids were napping, Mac paced his office. Nobody—nobody—questioned him, yet Ellie hadn’t hesitated. He should be furious. He should have instantly fired her for insubordination. Instead, he’d felt a stirring of guilt for denying Lacy what she wanted for lunch and unexpected appreciation that Ellie had a soft spot for his daughter. His appreciation actually got worse when she turned around before leaving and questioned him one more time.

  Lacy was a little girl whose mother had abandoned her. Her nanny had refused to move to Coral Gables when they’d run here before Pamela’s new movie could be released. She had no aunts and uncles or cousins because Mac was an only child. Her grandparents were jetsetters.

  Even Mac felt for her. He’d lived that himself. An only child, dependent upon nannies for support and love. But at least he’d had one stable, consistent nanny. Mrs. Pomeroy. She was more of a grandmother to him than his grandmother had been. Their bond was so strong that he’d bought her the house in Coral Gables as a retirement gift. It was also why he’d called her when he’d made the decision to hide while Pamela resurrected her career, and Mrs. Pomeroy had suggested he buy the house next to hers. She was here for support, to love his kids, and could even babysit for short spans. But she was eighty years old now. She couldn’t be his children’s nanny. Not even for three or four weeks while he looked for a new one.

  So he knew the value of having a loving nanny. A consistent, stable nanny. If Ellie Swanson checked out, he’d be tempted to offer her anything she wanted to be Lacy and Henry’s nanny permanently.

  Except for his damned attraction to her.

  There they’d stood, in his ugly bedroom—he certainly hoped the people who’d owned the house before him hadn’t paid the decorator well—with Ellie being insubordinate, and all he could think of was how close they were to the bed.

  It was ridiculous. He didn’t know the woman. He could embarrass her or cause her to leave if he made a pass at her. Yet, the pull of attraction he felt to her was so strong, he’d forgotten every one of those good reasons he was supposed to keep his relationship with her purely professional.

  He opened his cell phon
e and checked one more time for messages. If Phil would just get back to him and tell him one way or another about Ellie, then Mac could act. He could either fire her or feel comfortable leaving her alone with his kids and go back to work so he wouldn’t have to be around her so much.

  But there was no cell phone message from Phil. No incoming call. He was on his own with Ellie Swanson until Phil dug around enough that he was satisfied he knew everything about Ellie’s past and could make a recommendation.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AT TWO o’clock, Mac came into the kitchen with Lacy and Henry. Ellie looked up from the cookbook she was scouring for recipes.

  “I’m taking the kids next door to visit Mrs. Pomeroy.”

  She frowned at him. “Your neighbor?”

  “Yes. She’s an old family friend.”

  Lacy sheepishly said, “I like her.”

  “Well, of course, you do, sweetie,” Ellie said, stooping down to Lacy’s level. “You’re one of life’s very special children who loves everybody.”

  The little girl grinned happily and Ellie’s heart swelled. Lacy was so adorable, and her dad such a grouch, that Ellie had to fight the urge to pull her into her arms and hug her.

  Mac directed Lacy away from Ellie toward the hall behind the kitchen. Earlier that day, Ellie had found a side door that led to a walkway that went to the fence and a gate that led to the next house over. So she knew where they were going.

  Walking toward the door, he said, “We’ll be back before dinner.” Then he paused and faced Ellie again. “I’ll be grilling hot dogs for supper.” He cleared his throat. “And you can…um…make some of that macaroni for us too.”

  Ellie’s mouth fell open in surprise. Their gazes caught and a lightning bolt of electricity sizzled through her. She reminded herself that he was a grouch. She told herself he was out of her league. She reiterated her life plan—that her intuition was always wrong about men, so she was better off staying away from relationships. Yet here she was attracted to a grouchy employer, a man too rich for her, who probably wanted to fire her for questioning him.