Winning his Heart Page 3

  Even if Franchesca’s hand in his as they shook on the deal sent warmth through his system and made him think of cozy nights by the fire. No, he’d tamp those thoughts down and put first, as always, what was best for his daughter. As enticing as Franchesca was to him, he had to put Annalise above anything he might want. And getting tangled up, literally or otherwise, with the woman he’d just hired as her nanny was not in the cards.

  And although the St. Claire family fit under the category of über wealthy, Mike and his siblings were never cared for by a nanny. Well, Glenna helped his mom when they were younger, but Marian St. Claire was a wife first, mom second, and everything else after that.

  This was one friend helping out another. That’s all. If he kept telling himself that, he just might believe it at some point.

  “Okay. So, what are the terms here? When do you need me to hang out with Annalise?”

  Dillon approached them, a rag in one hand worked on the grease stains on the other. “What’s the verdict?”

  “Go ahead and get going on the repairs. I’ll bring her back tomorrow to pick it up. Just call me when it’s ready.”

  “Will do.” Dillon nodded and headed back to the car.

  Satisfied with the plan, Mike looked at Franchesca. His smile faded, however, at her hands placed firmly on her hips and a scowl on her face. “What?”

  “Manhandling again, St. Claire.”

  “No. Helping a friend. We’ve been over this. And we really need to work on your definition of that word. I haven’t been rough with you in any way. I’ve been helpful. There’s a huge difference.”

  She quirked her lip and dropped her hands to her sides. “You may be right, in terms of a definition. But you need to stop controlling everything.”

  He moved beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist. A bold move that could get him smacked, but a risk he was willing to take. “There’s controlling a situation and there’s chivalry. You have those confused as well.”

  Her huffed-out breath was more cute than forceful, but she let him guide her out of the garage and back to his car. A small victory in his opinion.

  “Why don’t I take you home and then we’ll meet for coffee tomorrow morning and talk about you helping me with Annalise, as well as me helping you get your car back after it’s fixed?”

  She deflated a bit and for a moment he thought she might even lean into him, let him carry some of her burdens with her. But then she stood tall and turned to face him. “I’m sorry. Thank you. That sounds great.”

  He opened the door for her and got her settled in the passenger seat. Her change in attitude had his head spinning. Franchesca was one fast turn after another. A challenge some men would find daunting. But not him.

  He shook his head as he made his way to the driver’s side. No. No challenges. No dating. Not now. He had Annalise and potentially a new job to think about. And although he was about to bring Franchesca into their daily lives, he’d have to stay focused. She was now his employee, of sorts, and nothing more. A friend, maybe. But he had women friends and wasn’t tempted by them. Of course, none of them had eyes the color of coffee with cream nor did they have passion that oozed from every word they spoke.

  Get your act together, St. Claire.

  He settled into his car and turned it on.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “Nope. Nothing. All good.”

  She smiled at him, melting any resolve he’d mustered before getting in the car. Which wasn’t much. What had he done? He honestly wanted to help her, but in doing so put her right in his path. Keeping his hands and thoughts to himself would be the number one priority moving forward.

  “Good. And to answer your question...” she leaned in and winked at him. “We are friends.” With a firm nod of her head, she sat tall and looked out the window. “Now, just head down East River Road and I’ll guide you from there.”

  Still back where she’d leaned into him and winked, he couldn’t mentally catch up. “Sorry. What?”

  “Where I live. I’m giving you directions.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Mike backed the car into the road and headed the direction she’d said.

  The rest of the ride was quiet except for her telling him where to turn. Her house wasn’t too far out of town. They pulled up to a small cottage that exuded warmth. The yellow exterior was outlined with white window frames. The front steps led to a small porch as well as French doors, each one adorned with a small wreath of some kind. A unique choice for a front entrance, but it worked. Lamps were lit in each window on either side of the front doors, the light casting a warm glow as the sun began to set and dusk settled in.

  Mike pulled into the small driveway and killed the engine. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. It’s my parents’ place. After Dad died I moved here to be near Mom and, as much as I’d love my own place, we settled into a routine and it works.” She shrugged. “My mom is independent. She has her bridge club and quilting group. She’s more social than I am.” A genuine smile lit up her features.

  “I would’ve expect nothing less from the woman who raised you. The independent part, I mean.”

  He got out and came around to open her door for her. As they walked to the front porch, she dug in her purse for her keys.

  “So, what time do you want to meet for coffee tomorrow?”

  He dug his hands into his pockets, if only to keep from pulling her to him in a huge hug, followed by a long, lingering kiss. “How about eight?”

  “That works.” She found her keys and stopped to face him. “I really am grateful for today. It was a crap storm of unknowns and I’d still be out there stranded if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Nah. You’d be fine. But I’m glad I was able to help.”

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  “Tomorrow.” He nodded but made no move to leave. Every fiber of his being wanted to stay with her.

  “Have a good evening, Mr. St. Claire.” She stepped toward him and placed a soft whisper of a kiss on his cheek. “My knight in a shining BMW.”

  As she laughed at her own joke, she climbed the porch steps and made her way into the house, while he stayed glued to the spot in her front yard staring after her like a love struck teenager.

  She turned with a small wave of her hand and went inside. In a robotic movement, he waved back and walked to his car.

  Oh yeah, he’d hired a hot nanny for his daughter. He was that guy. But as he started his car and headed for home, he didn’t care. All he could think about was how his cheek still burned from her kiss. That small touch of her lips to his skin and his whole being was on fire. He had more to worry about than stereotypes.

  Shifting gears and turning toward home, he decided as well to push aside any attraction he had to Franchesca and make the right decisions for Annalise. What he wanted had to take a back seat.

  Chapter Four

  “So, how was your day?”

  Noelle sat at Franchesca’s kitchen table—well, her mom’s kitchen table—sipping a glass of white wine while Franchesca cooked. She’d gotten her mom settled in watching Jeopardy! Alex Trebek’s voice a faint backdrop to their conversation.

  Franchesca stirred the marinara sauce and checked the lasagna noodles. Six minutes left to cook. Was that enough time to fill her best friend in on her day? Probably not.

  Noelle sat with her long legs crossed, her delicate fingers moving up and down the base of her wineglass. A former dancer with the San Francisco Ballet, she’d been in a car accident and sustained career-ending injuries. She could still dance, but not at a professional level, her leg giving her grief now and then. Having moved to Marietta with her sister, Holly, a year or so ago, she opened a dance studio next door to Franchesca’s studio and the two had been close friends ever since. They’d connected through their forced new beginnings, Noelle because of her injuries, Franchesca because of her father’s death and mother’s health.

  “Well, my car broke down as I was
headed back into town from Bozeman.”

  “Really? Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come to get you.”

  “I would have, after I was done taking out all my anger on the front left tire, but then...someone came along to help.”

  She turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce a bit more, if only to avoid eye contact. The last thing she wanted was to give any sign of how dreamy she found Mike St. Claire.

  “Why were you kicking the tire?”

  “The damn car started smoking so I pulled over. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I opened the hood, lost my cool, and took my anger out on the tire.” She turned the stove to low so the sauce could simmer, poured herself a glass of red wine, and sat in the chair across from Noelle.

  The hand in front of Noelle’s mouth did nothing to mask the stifled laugh behind it. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. But I feel bad for the tire.”

  “Some friend you are.”

  “You’re fine and you know it. I’m surprised you didn’t strap the car to your back and carry it into town yourself.”

  Under normal circumstances, Franchesca would’ve laughed at her friend’s analogy. But she was the second person in one day to tease her about how independent she was. She was resourceful. Able to stand on her own two feet. Since when was that such a bad thing?

  “That was nice of someone to stop and help. Was it someone you knew? I’m always worried about that kind of thing. Some stranger saying they want to help, but they’re really a serial killer.”

  “Okay. No more late night television for you, girlfriend. And it was someone I know. It was Wes’s brother, Mike.” She took a sip of wine and looked out the window. The backyard was small, but quaint. Complete with a huge tree and tire swing. A remnant from her childhood. Her father had brought it from their house in Billings when they’d moved to Marietta. Franchesca would sit or lay on it, swinging back and forth, thinking about the path of her life, how she’d swung back and forth from small town to big city to small town again.

  Noelle’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “As in, Mike St. Claire?”

  “Do you know a lot of other Mikes who live in Marietta...and that are related to Wes?”

  Noelle rolled her eyes.

  “Mike was in Bozeman meeting with a race team owner or something. I guess they want him racing again.”

  “Yeah. Wes doesn’t tell me much. He feels that if Mike wants people to know what’s happening, it’s his story to tell, not Wes’s. But Mike and I have talked. It’s been quite a year or two for him and Annalise.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “I’ve been trying to spend time with her since Wes and I got together. She is precious. Bless her heart living in that house with all those men. Well, Glenna is there. But she’s a busy lady. Annalise has her grandfather, her uncle Wes, and her dad. Not a female in the bunch.” She took a sip of wine then continued. “Mike stopped racing when his wife died. It’s a dangerous profession. He doesn’t want to leave Annalise an orphan.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “And his wife died in a car accident of all things too. Annalise has nightmares about it. Mike’s afraid him driving would send her over the edge.”

  Sheesh. There was much more to this than Franchesca had realized. She’d heard Mike’s story from the gossip mill that ran through town, but no details. And she didn’t pay attention to gossip if she could help it. Besides, at the time, all she needed to know was that Mike was a widower and Annalise was motherless.

  But now, now it was helpful to know more background. Was she crazy to take this nanny job on? She liked kids. A lot. And she couldn’t deny her attraction to Mike. Her resolve to keep things friendly was getting stronger. Not only were hot guys with the need to control things on her do-not-go-near list, but with all the drama in her own life, she wasn’t sure she could take on anyone else’s.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry. I got us off track. So, Mike stopped to help you.”

  “Yeah. I was kicking the crap out of the tire when he drove up. He took one look and called for a tow. Drove me back into town.”

  Noelle cocked her head. “Why do I have a feeling there’s more to this story that you aren’t telling me?”

  Franchesca shrugged it off and got up to add more wine to her glass.

  “Oh no.” Noelle pointed a finger at her. “You can’t shrug this one off. Your cheeks are red and you did that thing where you won’t look me in the eye. You’re dying to talk, Franchesca Stone, so get your butt back in this chair and spill it.”

  Why she was dragging the story out, she had no clue. Normally, she would do so for dramatic effect, but not this time. Did she not want her financial issues out in the open? Noelle knew that she was low on students. Was it that she was a trained actress taking a nanny job to pay for life, or that she was warming up to Mike in a hurry and wanted to keep everything happening just between them? It was all of the above wrapped up together. She couldn’t deny that. Or the fact that keeping her nanny job a secret from Noelle would be impossible. She all but lived at the St. Claire mansion and was Franchesca’s best friend.

  Obedient to Noelle’s demands, she took her place across the table once more. “It’s not any big deal. He drove me to the garage and waited until the mechanic could take a look at my car. The damage is $800 and Mike said he could help me.”

  “You’re going to let Mike pay for your car repairs?”

  “Of course not! Do you not know me? I would never. I had enough trouble with him driving me back into town.”

  “I’d give him hell if he hadn’t.”

  Franchesca smiled. “Mike said the same thing. Anyway, I told him about my mom’s health and then freaked a bit about the car so he offered me a job helping him with Annalise. I’m his new nanny.” She raised her glass in a toast before taking a big swig.

  Noelle’s eyes went wide.

  “That sounded wrong. I’m not his new nanny. I’m Annalise’s new nanny.” However, the visions conjured in her head of being a nanny to Mike weren’t all that awful. The memory of her kissing his cheek when he’d dropped her off at home came to mind. Oh, how her lips had sizzled after that, and from a mere grazing of the stubble on his cheek. She could only imagine what a full-on kiss from him would do to her.

  “You’re blushing again.” Noelle grinned at her and raised her glass in a toast as well before taking a sip.

  She raised her hands to her cheeks, knowing full well her friend was telling the truth. Damn, she hated being so transparent.

  “I knew you were worried about finances, but I had no idea it had gotten to where you needed another job.”

  “Up until today, things were fine. Status quo. I mean, yeah. I’m looking into things with my mom to plan ahead, but then this car repair and...” She looked into the family room where her mom was glued to the television. “I just don’t know what’s ahead. I figure if I take the job, which is most likely just for the summer, I can make some extra cash. It’s never a bad idea to have that lying around, right?”

  “I agree. But are you going to be able to handle it?”

  “I’m offended. I’m great with kids. I teach them every day. I can handle one kid, a good kid for that matter.”

  “I’m not talking about Annalise. I’m talking about how you feel about her father.”

  “We’re friends. That’s all.”

  “Oh yes. Friends is written all over your face. Besides, you told me to stop you if you ever fell for a ‘non-artsy type’ who liked fast cars and was too gorgeous for his own good. I think Mike definitely falls into that category.”

  Franchesca had dated a guy in New York, the only non-artsy type and too gorgeous for his own good kind she’d taken a chance with. So charming in the beginning, but such a jerk in the end. Her vow to not fall for someone like him ever again still stood.

  “I did tell you that. But there’s nothing between me and Mike.”

  “Not yet.” Noelle said it behind her wineglass before finishing it, but
Franchesca heard her just the same.

  She stood to drain the lasagna noodles and focus on dinner. Noelle wasn’t wrong. She and Mike were attracted to each other. But nothing was going to happen. At this point, he was her boss. And that for sure wasn’t a line she would cross. So, taking the nanny job was not only a way for her to secure some finances for herself, it was also security from anything happening between her and Mike.

  It was paper thin reasoning, but it was all she had.

  Mike stood in the doorway of the guest room his father had turned into a playroom for Annalise when they’d moved in. It wasn’t accurate to call it a room, but rather more of a suite, complete with a dollhouse, shelves for about 100 stuffed animals, and a full playhouse in one corner. Every surface was pink, and lace or frills had been added to anything that stood still. Mike hoped his siblings would step up soon and have kids, otherwise his daughter would think the sun rose and set at her command.

  He watched for a minute as Annalise instructed her “Uncle Dubs” as she called Wes, on proper tea party etiquette. Having struggled with Wes’s name when she was younger, Mike tried to work with her on her W’s saying it was two double U’s put together. Somehow Annalise came away from that saying “Dubs” and the name stuck. His brother didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he had his own pet name for her, My Lise, and a bond with his niece Mike appreciated more than he could say.

  The time immediately after Anna’s death was the worst he’d ever experienced. At times, all he wanted was to sit and let Scotch melt away the pain. But he had a daughter to think about. One who needed him more than ever before. He was father and mother to her, but his siblings and dad had stepped up and stepped in, raising Annalise as a family, and to them he would be forever grateful.

  His brother’s tall frame was folded up to fit into the tiny chair at Annalise’s tea table, but he didn’t seem to mind. Mike knew the feeling. Wes took a teacup from in front of him and lifted it to his mouth, pretending to sip tea. The cup was half the size of his hand so grabbing the handle the way Annalise had instructed was a challenge. But his brother was becoming a pro. Mike chuckled at the sight.