Nanny for the SEALs by Cassie Cole

8

Heather

Mr. Blue—I guess his name was Asher—had a great smile. It made him look sexy.

“You have a great smile,” I said to him. “It makes you look sexy.”

The words kept leaving my mouth automatically. Like someone had left the gate open and all the dogs kept running loose. I knew I should have been more careful with what I said, but I just couldn’t stop myself.

Asher applied a Band-Aid to my arm. “I thought you didn’t like blonds.”

“They’re not my favorite,” I admitted. “I like my men like James Bond: tall, dark, and full of alcohol. But even though I prefer steak over chicken, my mouth still waters when I see a juicy chicken tender.”

“I’m not a fan of chicken tenders,” Asher said absently. “Too many preservatives.”

“It’s a metaphor. I’m talking about dicks, Mr. Blue,” I said with a laugh. The comment sounded strange in my ears. Like it had been said by someone else.

“You should stop talking,” he told me with that sexy smile. It was the kind of smile that wasn’t intended to be sexy—it was just naturally that way. “You’ll feel normal shortly.”

“I told you: I don’t want to feel normal. I want to feel you. Come on. Let me get a squeeze.”

He laughed and walked over to the other side of the warehouse, where Mr. Pink and Mr. Green—Brady and Rogan—were talking quietly. I watched him go and changed my mind about the camo tactical clothes they were wearing. From this angle, Asher’s ass looked fabulous in the pants.

I opened my mouth to tell him so, but something stopped me. It was like a thin bedsheet slowly being drawn over my brain. It tightened, making it harder to just blurt out whatever I was thinking.

“That was weird,” I muttered to myself. It was a normal comment, unlike all the things I had been saying automatically.

All the things I’ve said.

Suddenly I remembered it all. Every single word that had spilled out of my mouth. I replayed the last five minutes in my head like a bad date, agonizing over every single dumb thing I said.

By the time the guys finished talking and returned to me, my cheeks felt sunburned.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I said quietly. “You can kill me now. In fact, I would like to request it. Please put me out of my misery.”

Brady grinned widely. “Remembering all the things you said? About dicks in Maurice’s mouth, and foot fetishes?”

I didn’t trust myself to speak—my mouth was a dirty traitor!—so I only nodded.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Sweethaaht. “I’m not into feet. I’m an ass man.” He punctuated it with a wink.

I might have smiled except for, you know, the crippling embarrassment that I still felt.

Rogan stood in front of me and cleared his throat. “I’d like to apologize for all this. We thought you were someone else.”

“Yeah, you thought I was Amirah Pratt,” I said. “I was there. I remember.”

“Not that,” Rogan replied. “We thought you worked for one of our competitors. Pegasus, or Heimdall Security.”

The name reminded me of Heimdall from the Thor movies, which reminded me of what I had said about Idris Elba, which made my cheeks turn a deeper shade of crimson.

“Why would I work for them?” I asked.

Rogan smirked. “You barged into our suite and pretended to be someone else. Then you revealed that you were an impostor, and insulted our security ability. You may not work for our competitors, but you certainly helped them last night.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Brady said. “I think we can still sign Amirah Pratt.”

“Unlikely,” Asher replied.

“Okay,” I said, trying to put the pieces together. “You thought I was an agent, and now you know I’m not. What are you going to do with me? Let me go?”

Rogan bent down to my chair and removed the restraints. “That’s right.”

I rubbed my wrists, but remained seated in the chair. Rogan’s pungent scent was filling my nostrils again, spicy and masculine. I tried to ignore it. “Then what’s to stop me from going to the police? You kidnapped me, then drugged me against my will.”

Rogan stood, and his intoxicating scent went with him. “That last point is debatable. You consented to the injection. And regarding the first point… We’re hoping you won’t go to the police.”

I blinked. “You expect me to just… what? Forget all this happened?”

“That’s right,” Brady said.

I let out a nervous laugh. “How’s that going to work? Are you going to threaten me?”

“No,” Rogan said with a smile. “We’re going to offer you a job.”

I stared at him.

“A job.”

Brady dragged Asher’s equipment case over so he could sit on it, which drew a frown from the other man. “You used to be a professional nanny.”

“How the hell do you know that?” I demanded.

Rogan smiled. “The same way we know your medical history, and your employment records, and your relationship with Eugene Howard. We run a personal security company. Our access to information is essentially limitless.”

“Oh.”

“You were an exemplary nanny,” Rogan continued. “You worked for two families over three years, the Smiths and the Jennings, both in Dallas. They gave you glowing reviews. You were one of the most sought-after nannies in the DFW area, with fifteen families on your wait-list.”

“Let’s get down to brass tacks,” Brady said impatiently. “Our kids are a fucking nightmare.”

“Your children are nightmares,” Asher replied softly. “Cora is well-behaved.”

“You don’t know that,” Brady said. “I bet she’s secretly the ringleader behind all their shenanigans.”

I looked at each of them. “Wait a minute. You have children?”

Brady recoiled. “The hell’s that supposed to mean? You think we wouldn’t make great dads?”

“Kidnapping doesn’t exactly scream father of the year.”

“We each have a child, yes,” Rogan said. “Micah is my son. Dustin is Brady’s boy. And Asher’s daughter is Cora. They’re all six years old. Our current nanny is… Let’s just say she’s not up to the task of handling them.”

“Handling Micah and Dustin,” Asher insisted. “Cora is the easy one.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Brady rolled his eyes. “Your girl’s a perfect little angel.”

Asher nodded, even though Brady meant it sarcastically.

“The job is five days a week,” Rogan said. “You’ll have access to a vehicle. Plus benefits. A 401k account with generous matching, and health insurance. I’m guessing you don’t have that now.

My current health insurance was simple: I ensured that I didn’t get sick, because I couldn’t afford it. But I wasn’t about to tell them that.

“I moved to Los Angeles to become an actor,” I said. “Why would I give that up just to be a nanny again? I could have stayed in Texas for that.”

“Because your acting career sucks balls,” Brady said bluntly.

“Damn, tell me how you really feel,” I muttered.

“What my loud-mouthed partner is trying to say is that we know people,” Rogan replied. “You saw who was in that room last night. Jonah Weiman, Amirah Pratt, Boras Scottsdale. They’re all big names in this town. If you nanny for us, we can pull some strings for you. Get you in touch with people who can help launch your career. If you nanny for our kids for a minimum of six months, we can do that for you.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking out loud. “Let’s say I did agree to this for six months. Why would you help me jump-start my acting career? You have no incentive to do so, because then you’d be losing your nanny.”

“We need help now,” Asher said. “Our kids—their kids, I should say—are a mess. We need someone who can start immediately and help get them under control. It will be a tremendous challenge. And six months from now, they start Kindergarten. We won’t need a full-time nanny after that.”

Rogan nodded. “Our current nanny, Brady’s sister, has been going crazy dealing with the boys. And then, when I did a background check on the woman who snuck into our suite, I saw that she had thorough nannying experience. You sort of fell into our laps, Heather.”

“This is all tempting,” I said, “but I don’t want to put my career on hold just to be the nanny for your awful kids.”

“Their awful kids,” Asher insisted.

“Point is, I still want to be able to go to my acting classes. Those are twice a week at lunch.”

“We can make that work,” Rogan replied smoothly.

“And auditions. If I get an audition or a callback for a role, I need flexibility in my schedule.”

“We can use my sister Patty as a backup,” Brady said. “In case you need to leave for whatever reason. She won’t mind filling in for an hour or two.”

“Living accommodations will be arranged, of course.” Rogan crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “We have a guest bedroom you can stay in whenever you’d like. If that’s unacceptable, we’re friends with the concierge at the Los Angeles Four Seasons. We can get you a room on short notice.”

All of this was overwhelming, and not just because I was still recovering from the never-stop-talking drug. It almost seemed too good to be true. After six months of nannying, they would put me in touch with all their industry contacts. A shortcut leading straight to my dream of becoming an actor. Then I wouldn’t need to waste my time on pointless commercials.

I rubbed my wrists. They were still sore from the restraints.

“There’s just one problem,” I said, gesturing around the room. “Everything that happened today. Why the hell would I work for three guys who kidnapped me?”

“That’s a good point,” Rogan replied. He pulled out a notepad and pen, scribbled a number, and then tore the sheet away. “This is your compensation. Hopefully it will help make amends for what happened today.”

I took the piece of paper and frowned. “This is what you’re paying me for the full six months?” It was a solid amount. More than I made as a server at Outback, that’s for sure.

But Rogan shook his head. “That’s your monthly pay. Plus the benefits I mentioned earlier.”

All my inhibitions disappeared. Now it really seemed too good to be true. But I could tell these guys meant business. This was a real, legitimate offer.

I can’t wait to tell Maurice.

Thinking of my friend reminded me of what I had promised. He needed the apartment tonight because he had a date.

“Give me the night to think about it,” I said with an Oscar-worthy smile. “A night in that fancy hotel you mentioned.”