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Copyright

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HarperCollinsPublishers

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015

Copyright © Nikki Moore 2015

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Nikki Moore asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Ebook Edition © July 2015 ISBN: 9780007583249

Version: 2017-10-10

Praise for Nikki Moore’s #LoveLondon Series

’I know that Nikki Moore is an author that I can trust to deliver the feel good factor in whatever she writes…definitely one of my top author finds of the past year!’

Lisa Talks About

’I loved every single minute of this fun, flirty romance … the perfect read for your boring commute to work.’

Bookaholic Confessions

’Uplifting and at the same time thought provoking too. I guarantee you’ll be hitting that button on Amazon to order the fourth book in the #LoveLondon series as soon as you’ve finished this one.’

Dawn, Crooks on Books

’Game, Set and Match to a lovely romantic story full of sensuality, poignancy and humour … This short story flowed like a novel and the ending was believable. A lovely summer read.’

Jane Hunt Reviews

’A sweet and flirty short story, I really enjoyed it. I can’t wait to see what Nikki comes up with for the next book in the series.’

Sky’s Book Corner

Dedication

To my sister Natasha, who may be younger than me, but who is infinitely wiser some (but not all) of the time! Thanks for everything, love you Sis x

To my big little brother Ryan, we may not have a lot in common but when it matters, we’re there for each other. Lots of love, x

To Mark, my family and friends; thank you so much for the support during the last nine months of #LoveLondon madness! x

To Charlotte Ledger, for being so fantastic. Look what we did! x

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Nikki Moore’s #LoveLondon Series

Dedication

#LoveLondon Series

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Bonus Material

Skating at Somerset House

Author Note

Author Q&A with Nikki Moore

Reader Q&A

Also by Nikki Moore

Nikki Moore

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

#LoveLondon Series

Skating at Somerset House

New Year at the Ritz

Valentine’s on Primrose Hill

Cocktails in Chelsea

Strawberries at Wimbledon

Picnics in Hyde Park

1

Matt Reilly is a complete, unbelievable bastard and I’m going to make him pay, Zoe Harper vowed as she pounded the gold lion-head knocker against the door of his exclusive Knightsbridge residence.

When there was no response, she switched to thumping the glossy black wood with the side of her fist.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Answer. The. Door.

Utter fury was squeezing her chest so tight it felt like her ribs were suffocating her lungs and a horrible pressure was building behind her eyeballs, the sure sign of a tension headache.

Where the hell was he? She stepped back to gaze up at the impressive facade of the town house, which had to be at least four storeys tall including the basement area below her. The top two floors were exposed brickwork but the ground and lower floors were painted white, decorated with manicured window boxes. The property screamed refined wealth, as did the beautiful leafy communal garden area in the middle of the square. He must have paid extra for the property, which sat back from the road slightly. It was one of the only houses with off-road parking.

She turned to look at the gravel driveway. Someone had to be in, there were three cars parked up; a garish, canary-yellow convertible sports model, a sexy low-slung black supercar and a more modest silver Prius hybrid.

Thudding the door again, there was still no answer.

If she was some kick-ass action movie heroine she could bust the door down, flatten whichever of the selfish idiots was inside (although both at the same time would be preferable) and just be done with it. But at five foot seven, as well as pounds lighter than she’d been in years, she hardly looked or felt the part. Still, if there was anything guaranteed to bring out her fighting side it was protecting her younger sister Melody. She was her only proper family left apart from their Great Aunt Ruth, who’d always been distant and had all the affection of a watermelon.

What it came down to was that anyone who hurt Melody deserved justice. But she didn’t really believe in violence, and ruining her beautiful nails with their miniature stars and stripes design on every tip didn’t appeal either. The manicure was a present from her ex-boss Liberty, named after the statue of. It was something to remember New York by, a city she’d come to love. But better not to think about that, or what else she’d loved and lost.

Where the heck was Mr. High and Mighty Reilly, or for that matter, his younger brother Stephen? Surely they had enough staff to answer the bloody door for them. A girl could die of heatstroke out here. The midday sun was ferocious and prickling heat along the back of her neck. It was sure to be scarlet by dinner time.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her hand was never going to be the same again. Then she’d be suing the sods for personal injury as well as emotional trauma for Melody. Her sibling had been crying so hard at Jemima’s flat in multicultural, packed Holloway that Zoe hadn’t been able to get the full story on arrival from Heathrow. There’d just been a lot of mumbling and sobbing around swollen red eyes and handfuls of soggy tissues. Still, what she’d figured out had been enough to instantly trigger her big sister reflexes. The stale, stuffy black cab had made for a nightmare journey across London but the sunlight glinting off the windows had matched her heated, murderous thoughts perfectly. She’d avoided direct eye contact with the chatty driver, jaw clenched as she replayed the fragments of her sister’s story in her head.

Fell in love with Stephen…Matt ended it, fired me…kicked me out without notice… never see the kids again… looked after them for three years!

How dare he? It was bloody outrageous and unbelievably unfair. How could anyone be so uncaring that they’d do someone who trusted them out of a relationship, job, home and salary all on the same day? So here she was outside of his posh, rich-guy’s, I’m so fabulous home, fully intending to grab her sister’s belongings as well as telling Matt Reilly exactly what she thought of a guy who’d treat a naïve twenty-two year old like dirt. If she could grab his brother by the scruff of the neck at the same time and give him a good shake for helping break her sister’s heart, she’d do that too. He had a lot of explaining to do as to why he wasn’t answering Mel’s calls.

Bloody men. They were a faithless lot at the best of times, the reason she’d left the States after five long years. But her sister’s boss had reached new levels of bastardom, if that was even a word.

Part of her wished that when confronted, Matt might admit he’d made a terrible mistake, beg forgiveness, tell Melody that of course she was good enough for his brother, and ask her to come back to them. But the text that had just pinged on her mobile meant the idea was a non-starter.

Appreciate the support Sis, but

please don’t cause a scene and

DON’T try and get my job back.

I’m never going back there.

M x

Zoe didn’t really want her sister anywhere near them anyway. Still, an apology from Matt, an opportunity for Melody to say goodbye to the kids properly, pick up her belongings and be offered some kind of compensation for the notice pay she was surely entitled to would be something. Along with some explanation as to why Stephen had gone AWOL and seemed to be letting Matt make all the decisions. Perhaps he didn’t feel able to stand up to him? Or maybe he was intimidated by his older brother’s success.

According to the tabloids, Stephen was abroad a lot of the time, a playboy who basically partied and shopped his way around Europe with the family money. Why her sister had fallen for him she couldn’t understand. At thirty, Matt was older by seven years, a famous music producer who was hardly ever out of the press, despite his attempts to evade the spotlight. Snapping pictures of his children was a rabid hobby for British journos and there were rumours of a new girlfriend every week, although you couldn’t believe everything you read in the papers. She and Melody were close, despite the vast miles that’d been between them, and Melody had told her a lot about Matt’s children via Skype and text messages but nothing about any of his personal relationships, respecting her boss’s right to privacy. Not that she’d got any thanks for that loyalty and professionalism.

Zoe banged her fist on the wood one last time and to her satisfaction finally heard footsteps. The door was yanked open by a dark-haired guy in his twenties.

‘Yes?’ he drawled, stepping out into the sunlight, forcing her to move backwards down the three concrete stairs and onto the pavement.

Cocky green eyes ran over her flat black shoes, tight black jeans and the fashionable short-sleeved print top that hung off one shoulder. Having had no chance to change out of the clothes she’d travelled in, she felt rumpled, sticky and at a distinct disadvantage.

She couldn’t afford to jump to any conclusions, but this guy had to be Stephen.

‘Are you planning to say something today, or not?’ he demanded, looking her up and down again, a bit too slowly for her liking.

Sucking in a deep breath, shudders of rage and adrenalin swirled with the giddy exhaustion of jet lag and noon heat, making her feel light-headed and dangerously out of control. Face scalding, she started shaking, hands bunching into fists around her oversized bag. Ignoring the feeling, along with the urge to ask if he was done checking her out and start demanding what the hell he was playing at with her sister, she expelled the breath. If she lost it too soon it was game over; he’d likely slam the door in her face. Getting over the threshold was the important bit. Then she could tear strips off them both.

‘Yes, sorry. Hello. Matthew Reilly?’ It was Matt’s house and it might seem weird if she asked for Stephen.

‘God, no! Definitely not,’ smirking, he turned his head to yell over his shoulder. ‘Matt, there’s some Katy Perry lookalike-wannabe here for an interview.’ A pause. ‘I’m off.’ Shrugging when there was no reply, a strange expression flashed across his face. ‘All right,’ he hollered, ‘see you when I’m back.’ Reaching back inside the hallway, he grabbed a travel bag and hustled past her, leaving the front door yawning open behind him.

See you when I’m back?

‘Wait—’ she yelped, spinning around as his comment registered.

But the arrogant jerk ignored her, running down the steps and leaping into the yellow open-top car like some Dukes of Hazzard extra. Screeching away with a spin of tyres, gravel flew everywhere in an unholy rain of stones and he barely paused before roaring off towards the main Knightsbridge road. God knew how many people he was going to take out driving like that. Complete maniac.

Then his other words sunk into her sluggish, travel-addled brain. Katy Perry lookalike-wannabe? He was a cheeky bugger! She might have black hair and blue eyes but was no wannabe, wasn’t here to audition for some tacky talent show, didn’t care that Matthew Reilly was in the music business— Hang on, interview?

‘That was my brother Stephen. I’m Matt.’ A deep, terse voice said behind her.

She swung around to face the door, stumbling slightly. She needed to get out of this relentless sunshine, she was starting to feel pretty sick.

‘Ready?’

‘Ready?’ she repeated, thinking. She’d missed her chance to have it out with Stephen for now, but it was this man stood in the shadows who was ultimately responsible for her sister’s confused distress.

Keep calm, just breathe. She squinted, hardly able to make him out. The inside of the house was too dim and it was so bright outside, red dots blurring her vision.

‘Look, I’m very busy. Are you here to interview for the nanny position or not? I haven’t got any time to waste.’

He’d got rid of her sister only yesterday and was already trying to replace her.

At her dumbfounded silence, he began shutting the door. ‘Okay then, goodbye.’

‘I, uh— hang on! Sorry, of course I’m here for an interview,’ she thought fast. ‘There’s just a slight problem.’

The breath hissed loudly from between his teeth. ‘Which is?’

‘I flew in from New York this morning and came straight from the airport, as you can see from my lack of a suitable outfit,’ she gestured to her jeans, ‘so I don’t have my CV with me.’

‘How did you hear about the job then?’

It was hardly surprising he was suspicious. ‘A contact at the agency called me, knowing I was due back in the UK today,’ she fibbed, hoping she was right. ‘Zoe Harper, pleased to meet you.’ She nodded briskly in greeting to avoid shaking his hand. ‘I was added to the list at the last minute,’ she finished the lie, ‘haven’t the agency emailed the updated schedule?’ She prayed it was the same agency that’d placed Melody here originally, the one Zoe had also got the placement in America through.

A ringtone filled the hallway. Blowing out an exasperated breath, he prised a sleek mobile from his pocket and after checking the screen, cut the call off.

As he tucked the phone away, she chattered on. ‘When this job was mentioned,’ ironically one she was more than qualified for, ‘I asked to be put forward, especially when it’s working for you and this is such a lovely area to live in.’ Sucking up to him felt wrong but if it gave her an in, it’d be worth it.

‘My assistant is off sick, I haven’t had time to mess around checking emails and my kids are due back in two hours,’ he said in an irritated tone, ‘so I’m sorry but—’

‘But I’ve come all this way—’

His phone started ringing again and he swore, wrestling it back out of his pocket. ‘Sorry.’ After a quick glance at the screen, he answered. ‘Matt Reilly,’ he barked. ‘Yes?’

She forced her lips into a polite smile while she waited. It wobbled when she realised he was talking to the recruitment agency.

‘No, it’s not good enough. I’m completely dissatisfied with the level of service I’ve received. You know I need a new nanny urgently. You sent someone else along, but— What? Oh, never mind, forget it.’ He hung up, clenching the phone in his fist.

Jeez, was he this grumpy all the time? He must have been a joy for her sister to live with. Or maybe he was just having a bad day. If that was the case, it wasn’t going to get any better with her arrival.

‘That was about another no-show. Incredibly, the third today.’ He paused, then shook his head, as if already regretting what he was about to say. ‘I’ve only got this afternoon set aside for interviews, I suppose as you’re here you may as well come in.’ Gesturing her over the threshold. ‘You can talk me through your experience and the agency can get me your details later if things go well,’ he bit, slamming the front door behind them.

Gee thanks, don’t do me any favours. She stuck her tongue out crossly at his back as her eyes adjusted to the light inside the house, then blanked her expression as he moved past her.

But he didn’t stop, striding off down the wooden parquet hallway so that she had to hurry after him. ‘This way.’

She caught a flash of a staircase to her left and a dazzling though unlit chandelier overhead, but her focus was on following Matt. The scents of vanilla polish, flowers and some unnameable but appealing fresh male aftershave drifted over her as she caught up with him.

‘I’m presuming the agency will have up-to-date references for you, along with an enhanced DBS clearance,’ Matt threw open a door and lead her into a massive lounge filled with windows and light.

Zoe made a non-committal mmmm sound, taking in her surroundings. The parquet flooring continued straight through from the hallway, but apart from that everything was white; the ceiling, the walls, the fireplace that looked like it had never been used. On the far side of the room two French doors opened onto some kind of outdoor space, with matching conifers in square black pots sat outside them. There was very little furniture and no paintings on the walls. She walked over and sat on one of the shiny black sofas that faced each other across a blocky glass coffee table. Hiding a grimace, she slung her handbag down on the floor. It was so impersonal, more like a show-home than a real one. She hated it. It was way too pristine. How on earth did kids live here? Where was the personality, the clutter, the colour? Perhaps the children were kept in a cupboard under the stairs like Harry Potter, she thought unkindly, tongue in cheek.

She knew from her sister that Matt’s daughter Aimee was seven years old, didn’t talk much and was exceptionally bright, and that his son Jasper was nearly five and about to start school. Melody had described the little boy fondly but seeing her sister’s sometimes strained face on the laptop screen and listening to funny stories about what he’d got up to, Zoe had concluded he was a bit of a handful.

‘Anyone in there?’ a gravelly voice broke into her thoughts.

Straightening, she lifted her chin and met Matt Reilly’s gaze properly for the first time. ‘I—’ Oh.

Oh, man. The Americanism resounded in her head. Freezing, heart thudding, her mouth dropped open. Realising she must look like the village idiot, she shut it immediately, teeth clicking together. ‘Yes. Sorry.’

‘Good.’ Leaning forward, he grabbed a notepad and silver embossed pen, and made a few notes on the paper.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. She’d seen blurred photos of Matt in the press, but he was always ducking his head away or wearing sunglasses, so there’d never been an opportunity to see what he really looked like.

The reality was that he was outrageously, jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

He shared his brother’s colouring, the green eyes and thick dark hair, but the similarity ended there. Stephen was tall and wiry, but with the long spread of his ridiculously muscular legs and the breadth of his shoulders Matt was far bigger and better built. In fact, he looked more like an international rugby player than some arty creative type who spent most days holed up in a dark studio.

And though she could understand why Melody found Stephen attractive, Matt was far more appealing. His face was leaner, rugged with stubble and with a fierce intelligence shining in his gaze under thick dark eyebrows. James Marsden chiselled cheekbones and a stern mouth might have given him a rugged male beauty were it not for the two tiny imperfections she’d always been a sucker for. A sinking feeling tugged at her tummy as she stared at a bump on the ridge of his nose, perhaps from a break, and a small, inch long scar that ran down into his top lip.

She’d had a thing about bad boys since a teenage crush on Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones films, sparked by watching Christmas re-runs with Ruth. Their great aunt, who’d raised them since Mel was seven and Zoe was thirteen, loved adventure movies despite her appearance and stilted manner. Since then, the rebel characters in TV series and films had prolonged Zoe’s obsession with bad boys. It was unfortunate for her, because Matt definitely looked like the kind of guy who’d ride up on a motorbike wearing leathers and whisk a girl away for a dirty, dangerous weekend. The sinfully tight blue jeans and black t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders reinforced the image.

‘Shall we get started?’ he asked, frowning.

‘Of course,’ she straightened in her seat, trying to reassert her professionalism.

His phone pinged. ‘For the love of—’ putting the pad aside, he checked his mobile, reading something and scowling like it was telling him the end of the world was nigh. ‘The sooner my assistant is better, the sooner my sanity will return,’ he muttered absent-mindedly, touching the screen and typing a reply message.

The deadpan delivery was unwittingly amusing and made him seem less grumpy. Zoe couldn’t help chuckling under her breath as she stared at him. A tingling awareness ran through her, a purely sexual heat beating between her legs and tightening her skin, raising bumps along it.

No. You detest him. He hurt Melody.

A pretty face and a toned body mean nothing.

Men aren’t to be trusted.

Get over it.

It was easy to clamp a lid on her unruly hormones as she reminded herself of those facts. Plus the intense physical reaction was ridiculous and just too much. It had to be down to the jet lag and fury, as well as her spinning, conflicted emotions about coming home.

Then she sighed, studying him as he tapped away on the phone. Damn. One thing she didn’t usually do was lie to herself and the truth was she’d never had such an overwhelming and immediate attraction to someone before. Fancied them, sure. Had flings, a few. Longer term boyfriends, yes…which unhappily lead her thoughts to Greg. What an awful waste of five years he’d turned out to be.

Why didn’t I see it coming? Why didn’t I know?

Rage swamped her, despair pulling her down. She was obviously no judge of character where men were concerned. She’d virtually abandoned Melody to follow Greg across the ocean, and in return he’d betrayed her.

She straightened her shoulders, setting her jaw.

No. No man was ever going to come before her family again. She owed her sister more than that…and she owed the Reilly brothers revenge.

2

‘I’m sorry,’ Matt silenced his phone and placed it face down on the glass table. ‘Today’s been nightmarish,’ he ran a hand distractedly through his hair, ‘to say I’m short-staffed is an understatement.’

If part of the reason for his stress hadn’t been down to him throwing her sister out on her arse, Zoe might have felt sorry for him. He looked genuinely pained. But it was his own stupid fault.

‘That’s okay,’ she said politely, wondering how much of the interview to go through with before sharing the real reason for turning up on his doorstep. She felt like she needed to know more about him first. What if she started accusing him of what he’d done to Melody and he denied it all, or threw her out too? No, that wasn’t good enough. She had to think about this strategically. It was just a shame that dragging tiredness and anger were befuddling her brain.

‘Right, the phone is being ignored and I’m not going to answer the door if the bell goes,’ he declared. ‘Let’s get on with this.’ Leaning forward to grab the notepad again, the movement showed off strong chest muscles shifting under the cotton of his top.

Her eyes flew up, noticing the petal pattern in his forest green irises, and how focused his gaze was.

‘So, tell me more about why you wanted the agency to send you over for this job in particular?’ he asked, pen poised over the paper.

‘Er…um,’ she stuttered. It was an easy warm-up question, but her brain couldn’t seem to come up with an answer. What the heck had she said earlier? She couldn’t remember clearly, she’d been so intent on getting through the door.

‘Well?’ he raised both eyebrows.

Glancing out of one of the French doors, Zoe caught sight of a flowering indigo plant and a section of deck railing. It looked pretty out there, idyllic. Which nudged her memory. ‘Like I said, it’s a lovely place to live,’ she mumbled.

‘That’s it?’

‘Yeah,’ she said lamely. God, this was awful. She was acting like a space cadet. Get it together.

Matt twisted his wrist and checked his battered but expensive looking watch. ‘Are you sure you’re actually here for an interview? To be frank, I’m really busy, so…’ he started unfolding his tall body from the sofa.

It was enough to shake her from the fog. What was she doing? She was here for a reason, couldn’t blow it. ‘N-no,’ she squeaked, and then cleared her throat before speaking with more confidence. ‘I mean, no.’

Shooting up and stalking around the coffee table, he jerked her from the sofa by one elbow. ‘Why the hell are you here then?’

She stumbled against him, letting out an oof as their bodies clashed awkwardly. Typically, his muscles were as solid and defined as they looked and her face bloomed pink as scorching sexual awareness ran through her, hardening her nipples. She glanced down quickly to check he couldn’t see them through her top. Luckily he was more focused on other things, like drilling her for information. He didn’t seem to notice how close they were or how tight his grip was.

‘Are you with the press?’ he demanded softly, the tone somehow scarier than if he’d shouted.

‘No! Absolutely not! I’m not part of that lot.’ She hoped her tone was suitably scathing and convincing, given that one of her best friends was a journalist. ‘And can you let go of me please? That’s way too tight.’ The determined shake of her arm must have convinced him of something, even if it was only that she wouldn’t put up with any high-handed crap.

He let go immediately. ‘Sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you?’

To his credit he looked sincere. It was the perfect opportunity to make him feel bad, but he hadn’t actually hurt her. Plus, if she went on the attack, it might make him defensive, which would get her nowhere. ‘You didn’t,’ she shrugged, ‘don’t worry.’

‘Good. So now you can explain yourself.’ He crossed his arms across his chest, shoulders tense.

‘Sure. Okay. When I said no, I only meant that no, I didn’t want to leave. You were getting up and I thought you were going to say it was over before it had even begun. I don’t usually perform this badly at interviews, I swear. I wasn’t talking much because I’m jetlagged and feeling a bit funny from the sun.’ She fanned herself to illustrate the point. Did she look as stupid and fake as she felt? But hey, she was committed now, and might as well go for it. ‘I only landed a couple of hours ago, it’s really hot outside and I burn easily. I mean look at this rubbish pale skin.’ She pointed to her face. ‘I may have a bit of heatstroke, but I feel better now I’m inside.’ She mustered her best acting skills and smiled brightly. ‘So perhaps you could offer me a glass of water and a minute to compose myself then we can start again? I’m not from the press, honestly.’ It was easy to hold his gaze, given it was the truth.

There was a long pause as he stared at her. ‘Fine,’ he said, expression guarded. ‘I suppose.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I know journalists. If you were one you would either come clean and bombard me with questions or maybe try to tempt me with something,’ his eyes flickered over her body, ‘in exchange for an exclusive story.’

Her spine stiffened and she smiled coldly. He was either deadly serious and an absolute pig, or was testing her.

‘Luckily neither of those applies. Anyway, what would someone from the press want with you at the moment?’

‘You really don’t know?’

‘Nope.’

Now she was fibbing, having read about a supposed broken engagement in a trashy celeb magazine on the seven hour flight home. The break-up was allegedly because his pop star fiancée had set up a cosy photo shoot with his kids without permission, prompting him to storm into a conference room to collect them, followed by hustling them out of the private entrance at the back of the hotel. As well as leaving with his children, he’d also apparently left with the massive diamond rock he’d proposed with six weeks before.

He shook his head. ‘Never mind then. It doesn’t matter.’

Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? Hurt? None of the above, surely. He didn’t look particularly heartbroken.

‘Hang on. I think it matters. If you gave me the job would I have to live with the papers breathing down my neck all the time? For instance, do your children get followed?’

‘Getting a bit ahead of yourself based on your input so far, aren’t you?’ he asked dryly. ‘Talking yourself into the job. A bit over confident, maybe?’

Arrogant was the unspoken word hanging in the air. From the glint in his eye, he wanted to see how she would react when provoked. But he wasn’t going to see that side of her. At least, not yet.

‘Over confident? No.’ She shrugged. ‘Over qualified? Maybe. I got a CACHE level three Diploma in Home-based Child Care when I left school before it was replaced with the QCF framework, and worked in a nursery for a few years. I progressed to a degree in Psychology with a view to specialising with children, but hated the job itself when I did my placement year at an independent school. So I left uni early, got a Paediatric First Aid award, did basic health and safety training, undertook a food hygiene certificate and became a nanny. My plan tomorrow is to apply to get onto the OFSTED Childcare Register so I can care for under eight year olds…’ She continued talking, reeling off her experience and skills, taking great pleasure in shutting him up. By the time she was done, his eyebrows were so high they’d almost disappeared into his dark hair.

‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ nodding his head, ‘we’ll get on with the set questions after I’ve got you that glass of water.’ He loped away, long legs carrying him quickly to the door.

Her eyes dropped to his deliciously muscular butt and she twisted away, swearing. She was almost twenty-eight, not a teenager. She should not be susceptible to crushes on the latest bit of man-candy in the media.

Think of Melody. What do I do about the indefensible way he treated her?

Matt was so self-assured that Zoe doubted simply taking her sister’s stuff and having a go at him would have the slightest affect, never mind making him feel bad enough to offer to make amends. Her hands curled into fists, picturing her sister’s pale face and bloodshot eyes. According to Jemima, Melody had hardly spoken or eaten since rolling up on her friend’s doorstep unexpectedly the previous day.

Matt walked back into the room and placed two blue glasses filled with sparkling water, ice and neat slices of lemon on the table. Zoe dropped onto the sofa and thanked him politely, hiding her churned up feelings behind a bland expression. As she sipped her drink, her hand was steady, a new determination burning a hole in her stomach. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get even with him yet, but would ignore his physical appeal if it killed her.

‘So,’ she put her water down and clasped her hand together in her lap, ‘what’s the next question?’

For the following half hour, Zoe answered his competency-based questions calmly, talking about educational standards, setting up routines, and how she handled behaviour management issues through shared partnership and agreed strategies with parents. She was candid with her professional opinion of what Matt’s children needed based on their ages, following up with questions about their likes, hobbies and extra-curricular activities to show her interest. At times she accidentally slipped into enjoying the challenge of the interview and as much as she hated the idea of thinking anything positive about Matt, it was obvious from his probing questions that he was bright, sharp and knew what he wanted for his kids. She was shocked to feel genuinely interested in the job when Matt gave an approving smile to her last answer and asked if she had any questions of her own.

‘I assume it’s a live-in position?’ she said after quizzing him about the hours, salary and next stages of the interview process.

‘Yes, you’d have your own bedroom, bathroom and a small lounge area on the top floor.’

‘Great. Could I see them please?’

‘Not today,’ he said brusquely.

No wonder. Melody’s things were probably still in her bedroom and he’d be unable to explain why. Because, after all, not many people would voluntarily leave their stuff behind, and he’d hardly want to admit to slinging a previous employee out so quickly he’d not let them pack up their belongings.

‘Okay, maybe next time, if I’m invited back.’ Sliding forward on the sofa, she leaned toward him with her head tilted to indicate interest and encourage honesty. It was basic psychology. ‘So, am I allowed to ask what happened to your last nanny?’

His lips tightened, a pulse beating in his stubbly jaw. ‘I’d rather not discuss it,’ he replied, shuffling his paperwork together on the table.

‘It’s important for me to know, given I’m applying to replace her,’ she said, peering at him so he had to meet her gaze or appear rude. ‘Did she leave for professional or personal reasons? Was she not happy here? What have you told the children? If I get the job I need to know what happened so I can be prepared for any questions your son or daughter might have about her going. They may be upset, or miss her. They could feel like she abandoned them. Particularly after what happened to your wife…’ she trailed off as his expression turned grim and his knuckles turned white around the notepad. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, meaning it. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’ She might not like the guy but she wasn’t a robot. There was genuine grief and regret on his face. One thing they had in common.

‘Its fine,’ he said in a taut voice, ‘it’s common knowledge. It’s not as if my family has any right to privacy or anything.’

She sidestepped the bitterness in the remark, choosing not to get into the debate. It was his choice to have a career that put him in the spotlight, so it was for him to deal with the consequences. It was just a shame if it affected the kids. ‘I appreciate it must have been difficult and I don’t want to pry. I’m thinking purely of your children’s welfare.’

‘I understand that. And I suppose you might be right about needing to know what happened. But how do you know my last nanny was a woman?’

She nearly lost her nerve but wouldn’t give in that easily, holding his gaze. ‘Statistically, the number of women in the field compared to the number of men makes it more likely your nanny was female.’ Pushing a strand of black hair behind her ear, she watched his deep green eyes flicker along her collarbone before returning to her face. That was interesting. ‘Seriously, I know I’d have to meet Aimee and Jasper and pass all the clearances and checks, but if you offer me the job I’d quite like to know what happened to the last employee in it.’ Forcing a nervous laugh. ‘She’s not buried under the patio or anything is she? Or chained up in the basement? What’s the big mystery?’

His smile was fleeting. ‘No mystery, just simply not pleasant. She, ah,’ he picked over his words, ‘did something I didn’t agree with that meant she was no longer suitable to be my children’s nanny. It turned out she wasn’t the person I thought she was. It was disappointing,’ he shrugged one shoulder casually as if he didn’t care, but there was something in the set of his chin that suggested otherwise, ‘but these things happen, and I need to replace her urgently. Does that tell you enough?’

‘I guess so,’ she replied through stiff lips, longing to jump up and yell at him. ‘Thanks for sharing.’ He really was an absolute bastard. It felt like every muscle in her face was clenching, but she breathed in and out deeply, striving to keep calm. Since when was falling in love such a crime that it meant you were unfit to look after children? And he could have said anything, taken the diplomatic line and said his nanny had left for personal reasons. Instead he was suggesting Melody had let him down, when the truth was that it was the other way around. Especially after all the time, energy and passion her sister had devoted to his children, who she’d grown to genuinely care about.

Zoe could hardly believe it. He clearly had zero conscience. Was it the industry he worked in that made him think he could treat people this way, or did the nature of the industry happen to support an arrogance that had already existed before he’d made it big? She resisted the urge to bounce out of her seat, grab his precious bloody paperwork and whack him around the head with it repeatedly, very hard and with great satisfaction. Fury didn’t even begin to cover it. Bloody, bloody men.

‘So, what about you?’ he asked, looking at her expectantly.

‘Sorry?’

‘Why have you just left your job after five years and come back to the UK? You must have liked it over there to stay that long? You still sound very British but I noticed you use American slang quite a bit.’

‘I guess it’s normal to pick things up when you’re living and breathing it every day,’ she said shortly. ‘And in answer to your question, personal reasons, including to be with my family again.’

‘Fair enough,’ he stood up. ‘Right, I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time.’

‘Can I have another glass of water before I go please?’ She needed a minute to think, as well as rein her anger in.

‘Sure,’ he checked his watch, ‘but it’ll have to be quick. The next candidate will be here any minute.’

‘That’s fine. Thanks.’

He nodded and picked up the glasses, leaving her alone. Springing off the sofa she strode across the room and flung open the nearest French door, propping herself up against the frame. Her heart beat a rapid ga-doom, ga-doom, ga-doom in her chest, pumping adrenalin around her body. What a bastard Matt was.

The scent of freshly cut grass filled her nose and normally the heady smell of British summer would be a lovely distraction, a balm to the last few years of homesickness. Not today. Her fingers clenched around each other, knuckles tight.

Then as if her system had used the last of its energy up with the hot blast of anger, belated jet lag hit hard again. A drowning wave of languor washed over her, making her eyes go gritty and heavy. Just like that, she couldn’t wait to get out of this house and away from the whole sorry mess. God, she was weary. Curling up in a ball and sinking into a deep slumber suddenly held massive appeal. She hadn’t slept properly for almost two weeks before leaving New York. There’d been too much to do, wrapping up her life and returning to her old one. The nights staring dry-eyed at the ceiling hadn’t helped either. Somewhere inside her there was a healthy need to grieve and cry, but she hadn’t been able to manage it before leaving the States.

It had been a mistake coming here, a knee-jerk reaction. Would it be better if she simply left? Went back to Melody and helped her put her life back together, while doing the same for herself? But then she heard Matt moving around the kitchen, whistling along to a pop track currently in the UK download chart, perhaps one that he’d produced. He sounded so happy, so unconcerned. It was completely unfair. Why should he be acting as if life was peachy when he’d practically ruined her sister’s?

She went to shut the door and her head jerked as she spotted a wooden bench tucked away in a corner of the manicured lawn, not far from a sturdy apple tree and rose-beds resplendent with pearl-white blooms. Her gaze zoomed in on a scrap of fabric draped over the seat. It was a rich mulberry colour. Melody’s cardigan, one Zoe had bought in Bloomingdale’s and paid to have shipped back to the UK for her last birthday. Next to it was a book, left open face down to keep the page. The spine would be permanently creased by now. They’d always argued about Melody’s inability to treat books with respect. Then it dawned that her baby sister had been ejected so quickly she’d not even been able to grab her things from the garden and she shook with regenerated rage, adrenalin boiling up and smothering her exhaustion.

It was time to give Matt, a guy too similar to Greg for comfort, what he deserved. He needed to feel humiliation and hurt on every level. She was sick of men who thought they could treat women like that, tossing them aside when they were done. It wasn’t right and it stung. It ripped apart your self-esteem so you were left wondering, what’s wrong with me? Why aren’t I good enough? It ripped apart your heart so you thought, I never want to go through this again.

Matt Reilly would pay, and not only for making her sister jobless, homeless and breaking her heart with the help of his brother, but for all the other women he’d hurt in the past. She’d read the articles. Sure, you couldn’t take everything you read in the tabloids as a given, but there had to be a grain of truth in them. If only a fraction of the hearts he’d reportedly broken since becoming a widower three years ago were true, the line of devastated women would stretch from London to Brighton and back again.

But how was she going to do it?

Then there was that sweet, magical moment when inspiration hit. As Matt swept back in and she turned to him, smoothing her hands down over her top, she saw an appreciative glint in his eyes, quickly hidden. Put that together with his near paranoia about the press and his desperation for privacy and she knew exactly what to do.

This was going to be so goddamn satisfying…if she could pull it off.

3

‘I don’t know about this, Sis,’ Melody twisted a piece of long, dark blonde hair around her nail-bitten finger, frowning. Lowering her voice so customers nearby couldn’t overhear, she leaned forward. ‘Aren’t you worried it might backfire?’

Zoe stared at her sister’s pale, hollow-eyed face. ‘I don’t see how it can,’ she replied, putting her mug of latte down on the sticky table. They’d met at a cafe near Jemima’s flat in Holloway, given that part of the plan relied on Matt and Stephen not finding out they were related. ‘The risk is all his,’ she added, sliding the coffee aside so she could grasp her sister’s chilly hands. ‘And don’t you think he deserves it? Don’t you think it will do him good to be humiliated and confused, the way you’ve been? I mean, you still don’t even know why, do you? Not properly. All Matt said to you that day was that you weren’t suitable for his brother or to look after his kids and had to leave immediately. There was no conversation, no chance for you to ask why. He just threw you out.’ Melody had told Zoe more about it a few days earlier. About the way that one day she’d been a girl in love, part of Matt and Stephen’s family unit, and the next she’d been out in the cold with barely any explanation. ‘But you said that Matt seemed okay about you and Stephen seeing each other before then? You’d been together a few months?’

‘Yes.’ Melody gnawed her bottom lip, dark brown eyes looking bruised. ‘He was. I just don’t get it. Why the change of heart? And why wasn’t I good enough? Because we’re not rich? He never seemed like a snob to me.’ She gulped. ‘I thought he liked me.’

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.’ Zoe paused. ‘Unless he thought you and Stephen were just casual, and then when it started getting serious he wasn’t happy? You said that you and Matt always got on well though. Why wouldn’t he just talk to you about any concerns he had?’

Melody’s eyes brimmed. ‘No idea. Yes, we did get on well, he was more like a big brother than an employer sometimes.’

Zoe sighed, her sister’s naivety paining her. ‘Oh, Mel. You should never confuse professional and personal relationships. That way can only lead to hurt.’

‘Pardon?’ Melody stared at her, dazed eyes clearing.

‘You should always keep a personal distance from the people you work for. You know that.’

‘Don’t start lecturing me. You don’t know what it was like.’ Melody flashed, yanking her slim hands away. ‘I was with the family for three years. It’s a bit late to wade in and start pulling your big sister act just because it’s suddenly convenient!’

‘Right,’ Zoe murmured through dry lips, throat aching. Ouch. Direct hit.

‘I’m sorry,’ Melody gasped immediately, ‘I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t. I’m just such a mess…’ she dropped her head into her hands, shoulders heaving, ‘and I’m so angry.’

‘I know. Don’t worry.’ Melody was normally the gentlest person in the world. Zoe scooted her chair around the table to get closer, the legs scraping on the tiled floor. Placing a hand on her little sister’s back, she waited quietly, giving her time.

If she’d been there for Melody, maybe none of this would have happened. Mel wouldn’t have gone looking for the guidance and friendship from her boss that she should have been getting from her big sister. Even though they’d texted and Skyped a lot, it hadn’t been the same, living on opposite sides of the ocean. Zoe might blame Matt and Stephen for her sister’s heartbreak, but part of the responsibility rested on her shoulders too.

The look on Matt’s face when he talked about Melody letting him down flashed across her mind and as much as she wanted to dismiss it, or think he’d been lying, there’d been something there. Something he was unsure of or puzzled about. It would do no good to tell Melody what Matt had said because it might upset her. But perhaps her plan could serve two purposes; not just revenge, but finding out just what the heck had happened.

She stroked her sister’s back soothingly. ‘I know you’re worried about my plan, and don’t really agree with it but maybe if I can find out why, it will give you closure?’ She nodded at Melody’s raw, tear-filled eyes. ‘I take it that Stephen still isn’t taking your calls or answering your messages?’ Thinking of his travel bag and see you when I get back holler to his brother. ‘I suppose he could be abroad. Perhaps he’s having problems with his phone.’

Melody shook her head, a lone tear running down her cheek. ‘I don’t think so, and he can more than afford the roaming charges. I just don’t get it. Everything was fine. We were happy. And I just can’t understand the way Matt acted— Oh, Zoe, I don’t know what to do-oo…’

The last word ended on a wail and reignited the hot, rolling rage and fiercely protective instincts in Zoe. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, rubbing her sister’s back more firmly, wanting to scrub away the hurt. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But Matt hasn’t been in touch to check how you are either. I mean, you could be living on a park bench somewhere for all he knows. It’s disgusting. I really think he needs to be taught a lesson.’ She looked into her sister’s face, jaw set, thinking of the added insult of a few days before, when she’d gone to Matt’s house. ‘Let me do this for you, Mel,’ she said fiercely. ‘Let me get answers and teach them they can’t behave this way. That you can’t ignore people and pretend you’ve done nothing wrong. It’ll be fine, I promise.’

Melody sighed heavily, running a finger over some spilt grains of sugar. ‘Okay,’ she whispered.

‘Good. It’s the only thing that makes sense.’ Zoe paused. ‘Also, I know that Jemima is happy to have you,’ she broached, ‘but sleeping on her couch is less than ideal. What do you think about me calling Ruth and seeing if you could stay with her for a while? You always got on well together, right? I’m sure she still has the guest room set up ready. It might give you some distance. Fifty miles might not be very far, but it’s not on Matt’s doorstep either. One of the worst things about a break up is running into the person, or the possibility you’re going to. If Stephen gets back soon, you’ll have two people who upset you to avoid. I don’t want you to think I want shot of you,’ she added, ‘because I can’t wait for us to spend some quality time together after I’ve been away so long. I’m just thinking of what’s best for you right now.’

Melody sniffed. ‘It would be good to have some space, and be somewhere familiar. I know it never seemed like home to you, and Ruth isn’t the huggy sort, but I feel safe there.’ She nodded. ‘Can you call her please? If you can do it without arguing that is. I’m going to splash some cold water on my face.’ Pushing her chair back, she grabbed her bag and hitched her chin up, trying to be brave.

Zoe watched her go. Poor thing. Sucking in a deep breath she dialled her Aunt’s number, dreading the conversation. ‘It’s me,’ she said when Ruth answered with a curt hello.

‘Oh. You are still in the land of the living then.’

‘I did text you from the airport the other day.’

‘Messaging relatives is no substitute for a good old fashioned phone call,’ Ruth said in a sniffy tone. ‘I expected you to follow the text up with a call. I knew you’d be jetlagged but surely you could have—’

‘I’ve had my hands full,’ she cut across her Aunt’s accusation, picturing her grey hair in its no-nonsense bun and the pursed lips, shoulders bolt-straight, her dark eyes cool and unforgiving. When in this mood, the result was stilted accusations Zoe didn’t have the time and energy for today. Obviously she still wasn’t forgiven for what had happened before her departure for the States, despite the birthday and Christmas cards she’d always sent, accompanied by luxury gifts. However, now was not the time to try and sort it out. That didn’t mean she shouldn’t be conciliatory. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right, I should have called. The thing is, Matt’s fired Melody and kicked her out, and Stephen’s gone AWOL.’

‘What? What on earth do you mean? What happened? The absolute brutes.’

‘I’m not sure yet.’ Zoe didn’t know whether to be grateful or sad that her Aunt would jump so easily to her sister’s defence, when if it had been her the first thing Ruth would have asked was what did you do? ‘I’m trying to sort it out,’ no way was she telling Ruth the details of what she was up to, ‘but in the meantime I think it would be good for Melody if she came home for a while. We’ve talked about it and it’s what she wants, if you’ll have her.’

‘Of course I will. The guest room is made up for when she visits during the holidays. Put her on the first train you can and let me know when she’ll be arriving. I’ll pick her up from the station. She can stay as long as she likes.’

‘Okay, thank you,’ Zoe said, relieved. At least that was one less thing to worry about. There might be a lot of muddy ground between her and Ruth, but Melody’s well-being was always a given. ‘I’ll text you. I’m aiming to get her on the train this afternoon if I can manage it.’

‘Right. And what are you going to be doing in the meantime?’

‘I’ll be trying to work out what’s gone on, and see if the situation can be retrieved.’ She had to talk in the language that Ruth understood.

‘You do that. Keep me updated, will you? If you need me to speak with either of the swines let me know. I don’t know enough about Stephen to comment, however it’s odd about Matthew, I didn’t think he was like that. He always seemed so nice. I met him a few times when I came into London for lunch with your sister.’

‘That’s what Melody thought too,’ Zoe replied. ‘I’ll be in touch. Bye.’ She hung up, sitting back in her chair. Formidable was not the word for her aunt. She almost felt like setting her on Matt because it was what he deserved, but that wouldn’t get them anywhere. She was convinced that direct confrontation wasn’t the route to take. Staring down at the greasy table top, she frowned, anxiety coiling in her stomach. Was it always going to be this way between her and Ruth? Was there ever going to be a time that they could come to some understanding? Or when Ruth would tell her why she’d always been the odd one out in their little patched together family?

When Melody returned a minute later, Zoe forced a smile. ‘Good news,’ she said. ‘You can go to Ruth’s as soon as this afternoon if you want. We can grab your things from Jemima’s and get you on the train in no time.’ She thought longingly of the coarse sandy beaches of Southend-on-Sea. Pictured the world’s longest pleasure pier, the row of multi-painted beach huts, the rides and roller coaster of Adventure Island on the Western Esplanade. Could almost taste the salt that carried on the sea breeze and always tangled her hair. While Ruth’s house with its dark shadows, locked rooms and no-nonsense air had never felt like home, she loved the seaside town she’d spent most of her teens in.

‘That would be good,’ Melody murmured. ‘I do think I need to get away and the sooner the better.’ She closed her eyes then opened them again, looking horrified. ‘I haven’t even asked about you, Sis. Are you doing okay? Funny that we’re both going through break-ups at the same time.’

‘I’ll be fine.’ Zoe grabbed her bag from under the table and started rooting through her purse. ‘At least I know what happened,’ she muttered, head down. The memory of that last night with Greg flashed in front of her eyes. ‘Besides, I’ve got other things to concentrate on. I’ll be checking out of the bed and breakfast in a couple of days’ time and moving in with Matt.’

Melody shook her head. ‘That’s the part of the plan that makes me nervous.’

‘Why?’ Zoe frowned at her sister as she threw a ten pound note down on the table. At least that was one thing; she was returning to the UK with money in the bank, courtesy of her ex-fiancé and their cancelled plans. ‘You think he might rumble me straight away?’

‘No. It’s more that while he has a tendency to be closed off from the children, and really distracted, he’s a nice guy. Kind of charming actually. I never saw him that way but lots of women—’

‘Not such a nice guy that it stopped him from doing what he did to you,’ she interrupted, ‘and that’s all I’m interested in. Don’t worry, I won’t fall for the act.’ Thinking of Greg, something in her chest twisted. ‘There’s no chance.’

Later on, when they said goodbye as Melody boarded the train, her shoulders slumped like a puppy that had been kicked one too many times, a new determination burned through Zoe. The sooner this was done, the sooner Melody might be able to move on with her life, and come back to London, where the two of them belonged side by side together again. Sisters.

Huffing out a breath, Zoe slung another huge canvas bag on the bed, a trickle of sweat snaking down her back. She bit her lower lip, pulling out her phone to re-read her sister’s text from that morning.

All settled and Ruth is

looking after me. I’m still

not sure about this Sis.

But if you’re going to do

it, please be careful. M xx

Melody was obviously worried so Zoe had done her best to reassure her.

I’ll be fine.

Can’t wait to see the

look on Matt’s face when

it all comes together.

Then on to Stephen! ☺ xx

It probably was a kind of madness, moving in with a guy she detested. But it was part of the plan. Besides, if she wasn’t meant to do this, why would the universe have co-operated quite so nicely? When the agency had called the day following the interview to tell her Matt wanted her to go back and meet the kids, it’d felt like cosmic rebalancing, like it was meant to be. Not that she was superstitious. But the agency—Exclusive London Nannies—had been happy to re-register her, delighted to make money from the placement. Once Liberty had supplied a glowing reference and Zoe had registered with the online DBS service, her enhanced disclosure and barring clearance available within days, with her certificate of good conduct on its way from America, it had been too easy to meet Aimee and Jasper. To convince Matt of her suitability to be his nanny. Of course it had helped that Melody had been able to give her some inside tips about the family.

Surprisingly, the children weren’t the spoilt brats she’d expected. Maybe that was down to her sister’s influence over the last few years. They did however have a few issues that Melody hadn’t articulated.

Number one was that they were crying out for their dad’s love, the net result being that Aimee was so incredibly shy she was virtually mute, finding it hard to hold eye contact and hesitant about speaking, while Jasper’s behaviour was so demanding and energy levels so high he was on the verge of hyperactivity. Zoe couldn’t help feeling Jasper was attention seeking, trying to establish communication with his only parent.

Number two was they were bored out of their skulls and weren’t engaging with the activities Matt had chosen for them.

She’d seen it all within an hour; interacting with the three of them, noticing Matt’s distracted and distant manner, the way the light went out of his kids’ eyes whenever he glanced at his phone, or gazed off into space with a faraway look, or scribbled something on a notepad he kept in his back pocket. They weren’t a happy, cohesive family unit. Not at all.

She could do a lot of good for these kids. It was a shame she was only here for a few weeks to get revenge, which she’d started referring to as Plan Nannygate in her head. Nothing over the past week had made her feel like Matt didn’t deserve it. What she hadn’t mentioned to her sister in the cafe was what had happened during her brief third visit, just after accepting the job.

Finally allowed to see her living quarters, she had been horrified to find Melody’s things shoved into black bin liners and left carelessly in a pile in one of the upstairs hallways, the contents overflowing and getting trodden on every time Jasper ran past. Which he invariably did, as his default speed setting appeared to be supersonic. The lack of respect for her sister’s stuff had her fuming, never mind the health and safety hazard to the kids if they tripped over the bags.

‘This is really dangerous,’ she’d raised an eyebrow at Matt. ‘You must have storage space. It needs to be put away.’

‘Dangerous?’ he’d answered her without lifting his head, typing something into his iPad.

‘For your children. They could fall over the bags and down the stairs?’ She pointed out exasperated, before realising she had to watch her tone. She couldn’t be bolshy. He was about to become her boss and she wanted to earn his trust, so she had to play nice. ‘I’m just concerned. I have a duty of care towards them, remember?’ Like he did as their parent.

He swiped the tablet screen to lock it and looked up, shaking his head as if bringing himself back to planet earth. ‘You’re right. Sorry. I hadn’t even noticed. I’ll get our cleaner Roberta to move them tomorrow.’

‘Or we could do it now?’ she suggested, not giving him much chance to disagree, scooping up two bags and running downstairs. ‘Where shall we put them?’ her voice echoed up the spiral white staircase.

A loud, resigned sigh sounded on the landing above her. She bit the inside of her cheeks to stop from smiling as she heard the rustle of plastic bags, followed a moment later by the beat of approaching footsteps. It was satisfying knowing she’d annoyed him, just a little bit.

‘There’s a double garage, and I only use one of them when Stephen’s away because I always have one car on the drive. We can put these in the empty side.’

‘Is it clean and dry?’ she prompted. ‘We wouldn’t want it all getting ruined. I’m guessing your old nanny might come back for them at some point?’ The last was uttered through gritted teeth. Sweetness and light Zoe, she reminded herself.

He looked troubled by the thought. ‘It’s possible,’ he turned around, ‘garage is this way.’ After twenty minutes of traipsing up and down, everything was safely stowed away and Zoe felt like she’d scored a victory. The garage was easily accessible from both the front and side of the house, so at some point she’d make plans with Melody to collect her stuff with Ruth. Or perhaps she’d smuggle it out a bit at a time, she mused, like illegal contraband.

The fact that, as well as failing to check on her sister’s welfare, Matt also had no respect for her belongings reinforced Zoe’s feeling that he didn’t give a crap. Well, she thought grimly, he needed to be taught to care.

So here she was, in the enemy’s house surrounded by her clothes, shoes and other belongings. The original idea had been to sling a few suitcases in the car and live out of them, but she’d realised it would look suspicious if she brought hardly anything with her after accepting a permanent position. So she’d called the storage company and asked them to deliver some of the boxes shipped over from New York and phoned Rayne, who’d been letting Zoe use the loft in her attic flat for some of her old stuff, pre-America.

‘It’s so great to see you,’ Rayne had hugged her earlier, before stepping back to study her appraisingly. ‘I know coming back to Blighty now isn’t what you’d planned,’ she paused as they looked bleakly at each other, knowing what had been planned, ‘but I’m still glad you’re here. I’m not that pleased to see how skinny you are though, Zo.’ Squeezing her friend’s narrow waist. ‘Tell me the truth, how are you doing?’ She swept her black fringe out of her eyes, Cleopatra sharp bob falling back around her face, multiple cocktail rings glinting in the early morning sun.

‘It’s good to see you too.’ Zoe smiled tightly. ‘And, yeah, okay,’ her throat closed up, and she realised she’d barely thought about her own heartbreak because of dealing with the fallout of her sister’s. Maybe that made it easier. ‘You know what it’s like after a break up. The weight falls off, doesn’t it? Best diet around,’ she joked weakly.

‘Hmm. Well, just don’t lose too much will you? I don’t want to let that bastard make you ill. I still can’t believe he—’

‘Can we not talk about it?’ Zoe touched Rayne’s arm. ‘Another time, all right?’ She wasn’t ready to deal with the implosion of her life yet.

‘Sure,’ her friend looked worried but nodded, turning to gaze up at Matt’s house. ‘Wow, it’s really something. You’ve landed on your feet haven’t you? I know you’re here for less than savoury reasons, but still.’

‘Thanks.’ Zoe replied dryly. If there was one thing you could count on, it was Rayne being honest to the point of bluntness. Less than savoury. Her plan wasn’t going to cover her in glory, but it was justifiable in the circumstances. ‘You’re going to help me, right?’

Rayne hesitated. ‘If you’re sure this is what he deserves, and you’re not going to get hurt.’

‘I’m one hundred per cent sure,’ Zoe said firmly. ‘This is what I need to do. I mean,’ she said hastily, ‘what Melody needs me to do.’

‘All right then, I’m in,’ Rayne nodded, ‘you know you’ve always got my support. If he’s as much of a bastard as you say he is, let’s go for it. When the time is right, I’ll put you in touch with some of the celebrity reporters I know.’

‘Thanks.’ Zoe moved the conversation on. ‘And what about you and Adam? How’s it going?’ The question choked her a bit. It was hard being newly single when the rest of the world seemed to be coupled up, but she couldn’t begrudge her friend’s happiness. Rayne had run into her uni ex-boyfriend at Wimbledon a few weeks before and after nearly five years apart they’d ended up giving it another go.

‘Amazing so far,’ Rayne grinned, practically glowing, ‘the way it was back then, but even better. He’s still lovely, and so much hotter too. You remember he had that preppy handsome look going on at uni? Well he’s got a few rough edges now, cut his hair, got a tattoo and he’s much more relaxed. You’d love him. But not too much,’ she teased.

‘I do like bad boys,’ Zoe mused, wondering how the heck she’d ever ended up with Greg, who was polished Kennedy-American uptight, ‘but I draw the line at body art.’

‘Fair enough, each to their own,’ Rayne smiled easily. ‘Adam would like to see you again. We’ve been going on double dates with Lily and his intern Flynn, but it would be nice to get more of the old gang back together.’

‘Sounds great, how about we do something in a few weeks’ time, once this is over,’ Zoe gestured at the property behind them, ‘and I’m settled somewhere else?’

‘Cool, but if you end up needing to escape the madness with a girlie night out sooner, let me know. We can try and get your sister involved; Adam has plenty of spare rooms in his place in Islington she could stop in. We might be able to convince Frankie to put Zack down for a minute and join us too. It would be good to get the dark trinity together again.’

Zoe laughed at Rayne’s description of how madly in love their other best friend was with her boyfriend, and the name Adam had given the three of them at uni because they all had black hair. ‘Yeah, thanks. I will. I don’t really feel like going out at the moment though.’

‘Fine, but don’t lock yourself away for too long.’ Rayne ordered. ‘You need to keep busy, not mope over that deaf, blind and dumb idiot, which he totally is to do what he did as well as letting you go so easily. Besides, I don’t want you turning into some sad old spinster who’s going to get chewed on by her cats. Especially as you’re such an oldie.’ Referring to the fact Zoe was two years older than her.

‘Gee, thanks for the sympathy.’ Zoe stuck out her tongue, playing along, knowing Rayne was trying to cheer her up. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave the fortress of solitude,’ she smiled, ‘but nothing too wild, for gawd’s sakes.’

‘Nooo,’ Rayne said, backing away, holding her fingers out in front of her in a cross sign, ‘she’s turned American on us! Quick, call the Queen!’

‘Ha ha. I probably have picked up some bad habits. I was over there for long enough. You can be in charge of my conversion back to British citizen if you want.’

‘It’s a plan.’ Rayne saluted, clicking her heels together. ‘I’d better run. I’ve got a story to finish and a meeting with my editor. Sorry I can’t help you move your crap upstairs,’ she finished cheekily, her turquoise blouse bringing out her navy blue eyes, which flashed with humour.

‘Sod off, it’s not crap!’ Zoe replied automatically, reverting back to their uni days. ‘And it’s fine. You’re a star for getting it down from your loft and dropping it over. Thanks so much.’ Zoe leaned in for a quick hug before shooing Rayne away. ‘Go. Speak soon.’ She shook her head as her friend roared away in her sporty black Mini, a Union Jack design on its roof. The girl certainly had personality.

God, she’d missed her. Had missed all her friends. She’d given so much up when she’d moved to the States. Pretty much everything in fact. And all she had to show for it was a bare left hand, a few extra laughter lines and a dress she’d never wear hanging in her closet.

By the time she’d heaved all the boxes and bags up to her top floor living quarters, she was hot, sweaty and swearing. She was also grateful her new boss and his kids weren’t around to see what a complete mess she was; damp dark hair coming loose from its high ponytail and sticking to her slippery face, denim shorts creased and the straps of her dust-smudged white vest top falling off her shoulders. It was a scorchingly hot day and although the lower floors of the house were cool and spacious, the upper floor was carpeted, more compact and suffered from heat rising upwards. Throwing open the skylight windows hadn’t helped much, there was no wind outside to offer any relief.

Thankfully Matt wasn’t due back for hours as he was holed up in his studio with some new talent he’d discovered and both kids were visiting with their grandma, his late wife’s mum. It was his way of giving her time to settle in, which she should be grateful for, but instead of abandoning her maybe he could have stuck around to see if she could do with a hand?

She shook her head. It wasn’t his job to help her move in. Why on earth should he? Looking at all the stuff spread out over the length and breadth of the bedroom, a mixture of old and new, cases and boxes of clothes, shoes and her beloved books, knowing there were more in the lounge area, she blew out another long breath. It was strange to think that this set of rooms had been her sister’s home for three years. She felt uncomfortable, like an impostor. It was going to take hours to unpack too. Mind you, there was no bookcase so her books could stay packed away for now, which would save some time.

As she opened the first crate from America and a long black and white Marc Jacobs gown slithered to the floor, her addiction to clothes caught hold and she forgot how uncomfortable she was. Leaping up, she unpacked everything else in delight, rediscovering old friends from before she’d left, including the ancient Alaia chain-link leather sandals she’d saved up a month for when living at Ruth’s. Haphazardly laying clothes, shoes, belts and handbags across the bed and every available surface, she stroked them lovingly, holding the soft, luxurious fabrics against her face. God, she adored all this, and given enough money would shop every single day. New York had been a revelation. She’d fallen in love with the stores as much as the loud, straight-talking people. She’d also been lucky that even though Liberty had been bossy and occasionally unreasonable about her children, she was generous and had fallen into the habit of gifting her collections to Zoe after every season. She was going to sorely miss that perk of the job, along with her charges Ava and Grace, and a hundred other tiny little things she’d come to love about NY.

As well as the life she’d had planned. One that Greg had robbed her of with his stupid, selfish behaviour.

All of a sudden it flowed over her.

Bastard! How could he do that to her? After everything they’d been to each other…Friends, lovers, partners. But clearly she’d been fooling herself, because if that was really the case, he could never have done what he’d done. For god’s sakes, it was the oldest story in the book, sleeping with someone else. Couldn’t he have at least been a bit original? Or ducked out of their relationship if he wasn’t happy? She wanted to punch him, yell at him, tell him all the ways she’d like to make him suffer, how much she hated what he’d done, how three and a half thousand miles between them would never ever be enough.

She ground her teeth. Watching him hurt would give her satisfaction, definitely. But she wasn’t sure it would make her feel any better, and there was no way she was going to give up her dignity by losing control. Sometimes all a girl had left was her pride, along with her instinct for survival. The best thing was to cut him off completely, forget he even existed, until she could speak to him without having a total meltdown.

Picking up a hot pink, strapless dress she’d worn to a party not long before leaving for New York, she shook her head. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t imagine wearing it again. Her mum, if still alive, would have probably told her to put it in the bin or give it away, that once things became useless, you should just get rid of them. But Zoe was feeling sentimental, so she tucked the dress into the back of the massive built-in wardrobe in her new bedroom and hung up a beautiful sequinned blue top. Spying her favourite black Manolo Blahniks she slipped them on, mood instantly lifting. She’d saved up her bonuses to buy them and they were totally impractical, but boy, did they make her feel great.

Grabbing a cropped jacket she’d once worn to a rock concert, she stroked it before hanging it up, smiling at the memories of the blaring music and sweaty, jumping crowd. Unpacking her old things, marvelling over them and remembering the girl she used to be, along with the good times in New York, might be the closest she’d been to happiness in a while.

That, and the thought of Matt’s face when he was plastered all over the weekend papers, his precious privacy blown sky high. There might be a confidentiality clause in her contract, but she had absolutely no fear of breaching it. He’d hardly want the publicity of a big court case, and she would do whatever it took to do right by her sister.

4

Matt crashed his car keys into a bowl on the expensive white sideboard, kicking the heavy black front door shut behind him.

He hissed out a swear word. The studio had been a nightmare. For some unknown reason the singer with the incredibly rich, adaptable voice who’d seemed so passionate, enthusiastic and energetic when he’d offered her a contract after weeks of sound tests and negotiations with her agent had today been listless and disinterested. It was like working with a different person. He could only hope the chance he’d taken on her wasn’t going to backfire. The fact it might frustrated him, made irritation burn inside. She had it in her to be amazing, world-class. So what the hell had happened to change her so radically? To make her avoid his gaze and mutter that she was fine, when she quite clearly wasn’t? He would never get women. Why did they always do that? Not that he’d been thinking of her as a woman, despite her fragile blonde beauty. He only saw her as a gifted artist. The talent was always off limits, at least in his code of practice.

He pulled a hand through his dark hair, itching for a cool, calming shower and a strong black coffee before going to his office and dealing with the tedious mass of emails he was behind with because his assistant Sadie was still recovering from her procedure. He supposed he should do the polite thing and find his new nanny first though. Say hello, ask if she needed anything.

Taking the two sets of spiral staircases in large leaps, up from the ground floor and past his and the kids’ rooms on the first floor, he strode down the top floor corridor and swung into the doorway of Zoe’s living space. Not in the white and beige lounge area. She must be in the bedroom. If the door was closed he’d knock, but it was open, so he walked straight in, impatient to get it over with.

The greeting he’d planned died on his lips, breath unexpectedly clogging in his throat. There was a knee-jerk response in his lower body, his jeans going uncomfortably tight.

Bloody hell.

Of all the beautiful women he’d worked with over the years—the singers and divas with their glamorous designer outfits and fashionable haircuts, manicures and pedicures, their gym-perfect toned bodies and fake tans—she was by far the sexiest he’d ever seen.

Sitting on the plush blue bedroom carpet, she was leaning against the ivory wall-paper, head tipped back as she gulped thirstily from a can of coke. Her creamy skin was flushed and her shapely but slightly too slim bare legs were on display, stunningly shown off by a pair of ultra-high black heels and some nearly non-existent cut-offs. A white vest-top outlined generous breasts and a tiny waist, the plain top a contrast against her black hair, dark brows and lashes.

Tamara Drewe eat your heart out, he thought, recalling the scene in the film where the intrepid journalist had made an all too memorable picture striding through a Dorset country field in tiny denim shorts.

When interviewing Zoe, of course he’d noticed she was attractive. Okay, striking, with a lovely face and athletic body. But he was surrounded by good-looking women most of the time. For a start, his recording artists were almost always easy on the eye. Not fair maybe that looks should be as important as talent, but the paying public invariably preferred something appealing to look at with the music. It was part of why Taylor, Rihanna and Rita had done so well.

He’d never had a problem keeping his hands off his artists, never had an issue keeping the relationships strictly professional. When Helen had been alive, he’d believed in being faithful and sticking to his marriage vows, even if, as it turned out, she hadn’t felt the same. Since she’d been gone, he’d had two small children to worry about, a successful business to keep afloat and an income to bring in if he wasn’t going to rely on the family inheritance the way his brother did. Was it any wonder he’d avoided getting close to women over the last few years? The complete opposite to what the press thought, the flames of publicity fanned by his PR Officer to give him and his clients maximum exposure.

Whatever, Zoe had been the best candidate for the job by far and it had been an easy and pragmatic decision to offer her the post. He’d had no expectation that moving her in would be an issue, but now wasn’t so sure. She was absolutely gorgeous, though a little on the thin side; her upper arms were a bit too defined and the slight ridges of her ribs were visible through the top. Nonetheless in this outfit she had an earthy sexiness that was going to make it hard for him to be around her without being in physical discomfort.

The thought brought back his earlier irritation. The last thing he needed was a complication, especially after everything that had happened with his last nanny. Getting involved with Zoe would be inappropriate. She was an employee. Look what had happened with Melody and Stephen, how that had turned out. Thinking about it brought on new waves of anger and disappointment. He’d thought Melody was such a sweet girl. So caring, so selfless. Wrong.

Frustration edged his voice as he stepped further into Zoe’s bedroom. ‘What’s going on? I didn’t realise you were moving your worldly possessions in. It’s like a jumble sale in here!’

Zoe looked up at him, then at the devastation around the room, flushing. ‘Oh. Well, I’m not finished yet, and wasn’t expecting you back so soon.’

‘Obviously.’

Jumping to her feet, rocking on the high heels, her black hair trailing down her back in its loose ponytail, her eyes flashed. Great, the view’s even better up close. Focus on talking Matt, look her in the eyes, not anywhere else. Definitely do not drop your gaze to those eye-popping breasts.

‘I didn’t realise there was a limit on the number of items I was allowed when I took the job,’ she said defensively, tucking her hands in her shorts pockets. ‘Sorry, did I miss something in the contract?’

‘No, of course not. Don’t be silly—’ he clicked his teeth together, seeing from her scowling face how well the comment had gone down. Deep breath, try again. Maybe if he didn’t look into those massive baby blues he’d be okay, so he stared at her collarbone instead. ‘I’m sorry, what I meant to say is, no. There’s no limit. I was just, er, it’s just that—’ his gaze dropped a few inches, and he frowned, fighting an overwhelming urge to grab her and bury his face in her cleavage. You’re acting like a schoolboy, sad and needy. Get a grip.

‘Just that what?’ she crossed her arms.

Shit, it just made the cleavage thing worse. Eyes up.

‘I was just a bit surprised by the mess,’ he muttered. ‘I’m not in that great a mood either. My version of a bad day at the office. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you though, so I apologise. I’m sure you’ll have it all put away soon.’

‘Yeah,’ she hitched her chin up a few centimetres but didn’t look very confident. ‘I hope so.’ Giving him an uncertain smile. ‘What time are the kids back again?’

‘Just under two hours. Let me help,’ he said instinctively. Why had he done that? He’d never offered to help Melody in that way. He also had loads to do. The cold shower, the emails, phone calls to return. This was a bad idea, a stupid one. He should leave her to it. Instead, to his surprise, he stepped further into the bedroom.

A funny feeling swirled in Zoe’s stomach as Matt came closer. He lifted a hand, rubbing a long finger over the scar that ran into his top lip. If it were anyone else she might have thought he was nervous, but he was so confident she knew that couldn’t be it.

‘Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine.’ She edged away, aware of his body heat and how big he was, towering over her. ‘You don’t want to help unpack a load of clothes and shoes, surely? I hardly think that it’s part of your job description as my boss.’

He shrugged muscular shoulders in the clinging grey t-shirt he wore so ridiculously well.

‘I want you to feel at home here,’ he wandered around the room with an easy grace for such a tall, well-built guy. ‘If you do, the kids will feel it. So whatever it takes. Where do you want me to start?’ Frowning, and looking at the tottering piles of shoes in three different parts of the room. ‘I take it you’ve seen there’s shelving for shoes? Although,’ he glanced at her, ‘I’m not sure you’ll fit them all in.’ He bent over and plucked up a patent red stiletto, letting it dangle from one finger, raising one eyebrow.

She blushed and bit her bottom lip. The shoe looked tiny in his hands. It was a strangely personal feeling as he ran assessing fingers over the curve of the arch and turned the heel over. He might as well be delving into her lingerie drawer. Something about the confident way he handled the shoe sent a ping of lust zipping through her pelvis. Plus he smelled incredible and looked sexily rumpled with his hair in tufts, presumably from where he’d raked through it with stress, and she couldn’t help noticing again the way his t-shirt stretched over his well-defined chest.

She was mortified to realise as he looked over that she was staring.

What? No, no, no! Stop salivating over him. He’s a pig, remember? Remember why you’re here.

‘So, is this it or is there still more to come?’

His question threw her, given the battle she was fighting against rebellious hormones and the need to hang onto some brain power.

‘No, that’s it. Anyway, does it matter?’ she asked, clearing her throat when realising how breathy she sounded. ‘Because you’ve said I’ve no limit on the amount of stuff I can have, I mean.’

‘It’ll matter if this only scratches the surface and we end up with a house so full we can’t move,’ he grinned disarmingly. Then he looked down at the shoe. ‘You’ve got expensive tastes, haven’t you? Got a rich guy secreted in the States somewhere who keeps you in the good stuff?’

‘Sorry, but that’s not really any of your business, Matt,’ she said stiffly. He was only joking but the comments hurt. Yes, she’d had a guy in the States, but contrary to what he might think she couldn’t be bought by pretty things, wouldn’t be blinded by them.

Temper flared in his eyes at her tone, but he didn’t respond straight away, instead gathering up the matching red shoe and disappearing into the cupboard, presumably to put the pair in the rack. ‘Fair enough,’ he said casually as he came back out, picking up a silk top from a pile on the side, ‘as long you’re not going to have some guy turning up out of the blue.’ He glanced at the king-sized bed behind her, and something in his expression tumbled her stomach, along with the way he was running his fingers absent-mindedly over the lace of the top’s neckline. ‘I don’t allow sleepovers in this house. That is in your contract.’

She turned to stare at the bed. Her eyes closed on a rush of heat, her skin prickling with awareness and she suddenly felt tongue-tied. Get it together. Anyone would think you were a teenage girl alone in your room with a boy for the first time. As much as she was aware of his astonishing hotness in her weaker moments, she wouldn’t act on it, mainly because of the whole Plan Nannygate and not liking him thing, but also because she wasn’t ready for anything after Greg’s betrayal. But back to the issue at hand, his comment on overnight guests. ‘That won’t be a problem.’ She met his gaze. ‘I’m single, and happy to stay that way.’ But she mustn’t be too adamant about it. At some point she needed to try and build a relationship between them, or at least the appearance of one. Which meant humour, trust, affection. Yuck.

‘Great! Good.’ He looked completely wrong-footed by the words flying out of his mouth. ‘I mean, that’s easier for everyone. I just don’t like the thought of strange men wandering around my house with the children here—’

‘No. One strange man is more than enough,’ she joked, crossing the room and easing the silky top from his hand, raising her eyebrows. ‘Could you please kindly stop feeling up my pyjamas?’

His eyes shot to hers, then down at the fabric. ‘Oh. I, ah…sorry, I thought that it was a top. That you wear out, I mean. I-I’d better go, I have a lot of work to do.’

‘You’re not going to stay and help after all?’ She couldn’t resist teasing him, seeing his discomfort.

‘I think its best you sort it out,’ he started backing toward the door. ‘If you can get the room straight and then get changed into something more suitable before Jasper and Aimee get home, that would be appreciated.’

She frowned. ‘Something more suitable?’

He took a few more steps back. ‘You’re the other responsible adult in this house at the moment and need to set a good example. I’d rather not be confronted by my seven year-old daughter trying to wear shorts that go up to—’ he paused before nodding at her bare legs, ‘well, you know what I mean.’

Turning, he headed off downstairs before she could respond, leaving her standing in the messy room, face turning a slow bright red. Lovely. He’d just practically accused her of looking like a prostitute. What an ass. So much for Melody saying he could be kind of charming. Although he hadn’t been doing too badly at first. Maybe Melody was right. Maybe this was a mistake.

She had to get out of here, get some fresh air, figure out what she was doing. She wasn’t officially on duty until the morning, but had planned on spending some time with the children before their bedtime. So she’d unpack, shower and change into something Mr Clothing Police might approve of, see Aimee and Jasper for half an hour, and then she was escaping for the evening.

Matt was sitting at the breakfast counter in tight blue Levi’s and a navy t-shirt watching the news when Zoe sloped into the kitchen early the next morning.

She murmured a quick greeting and looked around the room, admiring again the luxurious black and silver flecked marble counter tops, chrome equipment and spotlights set against the white walls and cabinets. Moving behind Matt to fiddle with the coffee machine, she placed a porcelain cup under the spout, frowning at the variety of buttons and levers. It looked more like a dashboard from a spaceship than something for making hot drinks. If she got desperate enough she’d ask him for help, but she’d give it a darned good try on her own first.

She poked at a black button, waiting for the chrome machine to do something. The orange ON light was lit up, and there was steam coming from somewhere, but nothing happened. Come on, she needed coffee.

They’d not spoken since Matt’s comment about her shorts the previous day. He’d been in his office and she’d been with Aimee and Jasper in their playroom after they’d come back from his mother-in-law’s and once they’d gone to bed she’d headed out, mooching around a few still open shops before trekking down towards Sloane Square and along Chelsea Bridge Road to take a walk beside the sluggish River Thames. The evening was balmy and bright, cars rushing past with beeps of horns, stressed commuters and cheerful locals streaming past her on the way to their next destination. She’d always loved London at this time of year. The sounds and smells of summer and the sense of endless possibilities. After her stroll she’d gone to see a late night comedy at the cinema.

She’d felt better and calmer on returning to Matt’s. As much as he’d embarrassed her, reflecting on his behaviour she’d realised it was unintentional rather than trying to piss her off. Also, for the plan to work she had to get Matt on side. Which meant not sending waves of palpable dislike his way every time he moved or spoke. So the only sensible thing was to temporarily put aside what he’d done to Melody and concentrate on being nice and becoming part of the household. She also didn’t want to live in a house filled with tension. It wouldn’t be good for any of them, least of all the kids. They mustn’t be hurt by all this. It wouldn’t be fair.

Muttering under her breath, she stabbed at a different button on the machine.

‘Here, let me.’ The deep voice sounded behind her and she jumped, the top of her head thunking his chin. His teeth clicked and a long, muscular arm grabbed the counter beside her waist, clutching it for support.

‘Shit!’ She span around, dismayed to see Matt’s eyes clenched shut, face white, a trickle of blood running down his chin. ‘I mean— argh! God, I’m so sorry. You took me completely by surprise.’ She took hold of his arm, scared he was about to topple over. Breathing in his aftershave and noticing how hot his body was really shouldn’t have been possible at that moment but somehow she managed both. Damn it.

‘Uh-huh,’ he groaned.

‘Here. Sit down,’ she ordered, guiding him back to his stool and pushing his head between his knees with a firm hand on the back of his warm neck. ‘Stay there a minute.’

He didn’t reply, staying put, so she edged away to get him a glass of iced water from the dispenser on the front of the big American style fridge and grab a piece of padded kitchen roll from the side, which she dampened. ‘Here you go,’ she held them out under his nose and after hesitating, he lifted his head slightly, grabbed the tissue and dabbed his mouth with it, followed by taking a few careful sips of water.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated again, wincing. ‘It was a complete accident.’

Making a deep hmmming sound of acknowledgement, he stared at the floor in silence for a minute, taking slow deep breaths.

As Zoe hovered next to him, she tried to take some satisfaction in his pain—after all, she’d regularly fantasised about punching him since her return to the UK—but totally failed. She hadn’t meant to hurt him and the guy was so pale he looked bloodless. It wasn’t funny what a sorry sight he was. ‘Are you okay?’

Straightening up, he rubbed his jaw, poked a gentle finger in his mouth to check his tongue, and ran assessing fingers under his stubbly chin. ‘I think so.’

Zoe sucked in her cheeks, expecting to be bawled out for being clumsy. Greg would have been furious with her for the lack of care. He’d also never been good at dealing with pain. In contrast, Matt had sucked it up and been a man about it.

Shaking his head and dabbing his mouth with the kitchen roll again, he smiled gingerly. ‘I think I saw stars. And I definitely bit my tongue.’ A pause. ‘That is the last time I’m offering to help a woman make coffee.’

She was so surprised she burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, again. I was zoned out thinking about something. You made me jump.’

‘Clearly. Who would have thought you could jump so high though?’

‘I know, like I was on springs.’ She chuckled before turning serious. ‘But are you sure you’re okay? You might bruise under your chin. Your tongue will be sore for a few days too.’

‘It’s just a little cut. I’m sure I can cope. If there’s a visible mark under my chin I’ll make something up. I wouldn’t want the world thinking my nanny could take me…’ he trailed off, an odd look in his green eyes. ‘In a fight I mean.’

‘No,’ she cleared her throat, stepping away as a tingling flush ran up and down her body. ‘Obviously.’ Spinning around, she went back to the fridge, opening it and sticking her head inside to cool down. ‘Maybe I’ll just have an orange juice. Safer for both of us that way.’

‘No, I’ll do you a coffee,’ he replied, slowly getting up. ‘You just stay over there where you can’t injure me, and make toast or cereal or something.’

‘Seems fair.’ Emerging from the fridge she took two pieces of bread from the bread bin on the counter and put them in the toaster, pushing the button down and watching the elements glow red. The only reason her face was still warm was from the heat of the toaster. It was not about the thought of ‘taking’ Matt.

‘So,’ he looked over his coffee cup once she was settled across from him with her breakfast. ‘Any injuries at your end?’ Nodding at her head.

‘A bit of a sore spot, but I think I came off better than you.’

‘You might be right.’ He grinned, but not too widely, wiggling his jaw. ‘Look, I wanted to talk to you before the kids get up.’ He slid a quick look at the digital clock on the front of the high-tech oven. ‘They usually are now. It’s past seven.’

‘I’ll establish a routine with them, but they both seemed tired and a bit out of sorts last night so I thought I’d let them sleep in this morning.’

‘That’s fine. It’s the start of the summer holidays after all. As long as they’re back in their routine for September—’

‘They will be, no problem.’

‘Good.’ He pulled a face. ‘Thinking about it, they do come back from my mother-in-law’s a bit ratty sometimes.’

‘Why do you think that is?’

‘I…I’ve never really thought about it.’ He stared into space for a moment. ‘I suppose…it might be that she’s not the warmest person in the world.’

‘Yeah, I know someone like that,’ she mused, thinking of Ruth. ‘Or maybe their gran reminds them of their mum?’ she suggested softly, off the back of a comment Jasper had made the previous evening. He’d said Gran had the same curly hair as Mummy, he knew it from photos at her house. There were no pictures of Mummy at home, Daddy didn’t like them.

Watching Matt struggle with her suggestion, she was worried. A parent who knew their kids would instinctively know what was going on. Why was he so out of touch with them?

‘I don’t think so,’ he said at last.

Feeling he was wrong, she also knew now was not the time to push. It was too soon. She’d barely been here five minutes and he was unlikely to trust her opinion yet about something so sensitive and personal. ‘Okay.’ Watching the news on the flat screen TV built into one of the walls, she chewed some toast and drank some of the delicious coffee. Gulping, she studied him. ‘So, you wanted to talk to me about something?’

‘Oh, yes. I wanted to say sorry for the comment about your shorts yesterday.’ He looked down into his coffee cup. ‘It was clumsy.’

‘Thank you. I understand they might have been a bit skimpy, but—’

‘But I could have been a bit more diplomatic,’ he interrupted, flicking his gaze to her face. ‘I sounded like a pompous git.’

Her mouth swung open, and she laughed. He wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have said that.’

‘Well I can. I apologise. I just don’t know how to talk to women anymore.’ It was the last thing she’d have predicted him sharing and he looked embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean to say that.’

‘Obviously. After all, what about your reputation as a serial dater in the papers? And your last nanny was a woman, you must have talked to her?’

He scowled. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read. Besides, Melody was different. I wasn’t—’ he clenched his teeth. ‘Never mind.’

‘What were you going to say?’ Was he about to open up, give her an inkling of what the hell had caused him to fire Melody and kick her out?

‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Next subject.’ He drained his cup.

‘If it’s something I need to know, something that could affect the children—’

‘It’s not,’ he said tightly, before making a visible effort to breathe in and out to calm himself. ‘There was something else too, Zoe.’

‘Oh?’ Obviously she needed to let the subject of Melody drop, but it was weird how stressed he looked about the whole thing. ‘Go on.’

‘I’m um— not sure what time you got in last night but I really need you to be dedicated to the job, not coming in and out at all hours, dragging yourself around exhausted. Especially not smelling of alcohol.’ His mouth tightened, the scar cutting into his upper lip turning white. ‘Aimee and Jasper need stability and a responsible adult. I’m not unreasonable, you have a right to a life outside of work, it just has to be appropriate and come further down the list of priorities. My kids come first. Do you understand?’

She nodded, feeling a bit like a child who’d been told off for staying out to play too long, but she could see his point; she’d got in pretty late and was here to do a job. Plus how could she argue when he was looking out for his children? All she’d ever want from any parent was that they be child-centred and put their children’s best interests first.

‘Yes, absolutely,’ she nodded, ‘I want the best for them too.’ Hopping down from her stool she stacked her plate and cup in the dishwasher, before straightening up to look at him. ‘Just so you know, I wasn’t out drinking. I went for a walk and saw a film. I like going out and having fun occasionally but that’s it. I’m not a party girl.’ Hangovers and looking after children were not a good combination. She’d learnt that the hard way when she’d worked at the nursery in her late teens. Coming into work hung-over, dealing with the noise and demands of young children had been like slow-roasted torture and she’d ended up in tears before lunchtime. ‘Is there anything else?’

His eyes raked over her beige safari shorts, a respectable mid-thigh length today, the floaty white vest top, chunky necklace and lace-up sandals.

‘Yes,’ he met her gaze. ‘I can’t let you leave the house like that.’

‘Pardon?’ Her eyes widened. He couldn’t think this outfit was too revealing?

‘The other nannies dress a certain way.’ He ran a hand around the back of his neck, seeming awkward with the direction of the conversation. ‘I’m afraid that’s not it.’

‘I was planning on taking the kids out somewhere, spending some quality time with them. I’m not going to a fashion show.’ No one loved clothes more than her but you had to dress for the activity.

‘I appreciate that,’ he rose from the stool and strolled over to her, ‘but the thing is that I need you to fit in with my lifestyle, not the other way around. That outfit,’ he looked down at her shorts, ‘is too casual if you’re going out. You’re bound to bump into some of the kids’ friends and their nannies or parents. I wouldn’t want either of my children feeling…’

‘What?’ she questioned lightly, trying not to take it personally. ‘Embarrassed to be seen with me?

‘Not embarrassed! But you won’t fit in. I’m saying this for your benefit as well as theirs. Think of it like wearing a uniform. There’s a certain way you’re expected to look for this job. You must have come across that before.’

The truth was, she had. Liberty had expected Zoe to be immaculately groomed in well-cut clothes to fit into the society she lived in and she’d done it happily. But she hadn’t really thought it through when she’d put her clothes on this morning, because her professional head wasn’t on in the way it usually was, given she was here to get even, not make a living. She had to take more care. ‘So what kind of thing do I need to wear?’ she asked lightly, gazing past him out the window at the bright sunlight filling the manicured garden. ‘Given it’s not even half seven and already twenty degrees out? It’s supposed to be another hot one today.’

‘I don’t know really. I think Melody wore a lot of dresses, but I never took proper notice. Just something smarter I guess.’ To his credit he looked genuinely flummoxed.

She let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Right, that’s helpful.’ Not. ‘I’ll go and change.’ Marching out, she made for the top floor. At least he’d been more tactful than he’d been yesterday. They were making progress.

It was confirmed as she ran up the stairs, when he had the grace to yell, ‘Thank you, Zoe!’

It made her smile, despite the fact everything inside her said it was wrong to.

5

She was downstairs again half an hour later, this time accompanied by Jasper and Aimee. After putting up with five minutes of moaning and groaning when she’d tried to get them up—aware of what they were like in the morning from Melody—she’d resorted to motivating them with a little competition. Zoe’s Ten Minute Challenge had worked like a dream with Ava and Grace and it had worked a treat with Matt’s children too. The added opportunity of picking a place of their choice to go had acted as a wonderful incentive for them to get washed and dressed with teeth brushed within the allocated time.

Aimee had narrowly won the contest which had triggered a tantrum from Jasper. Zoe had felt distinctively unimpressed and worried about a child of school age reacting like a toddler, and after telling him she’d be in the other room, had waited him out, pulling his door halfway closed while she helped Aimee pack a rucksack. The girl had looked at her a few times, mouth opening to say something but had shut it again each time.

‘I give him two minutes,’ Zoe had whispered out the side of her mouth.

Aimee smiled, as if to say, in your dreams.

He was done in just under. It wasn’t long, yet he hollered pretty loudly and she was half expecting Matt to come thundering up the stairs to demand what was going on, but he didn’t appear.

Seeing Jasper’s feet approach from the corner of her eye, she’d stood up, passing the rucksack to Aimee. ‘Ready to go downstairs?’

The girl nodded, her auburn ponytail bobbing, blue eyes wide and looking impressed, possibly by Zoe’s prediction about the length of Jasper’s tantrum being right.

Jasper inched forward. ‘Can I come too?’ he hiccuped, rubbing at his green eyes, so much like Matt’s.

Zoe wasn’t fooled for a second; if they were real tears she’d put on trousers and call herself Bob.

‘I suppose so,’ she replied briskly, ‘if you’re ready?’

He pursed his lips like he was considering his options, then tucked his hands in his pockets, small dark head bobbing. ‘Yes.’

‘It was sort of silly behaviour, wasn’t it?’ she remarked conversationally as they wandered down the stairs, Aimee trailing behind them. ‘After all, you can’t always win. You’ll just have to try really hard next time to be even faster. And I heard that you’re a big boy. Your dad told me you’re starting school soon and your birthday is not long after.’

‘Yes!’ his eyes brightened. ‘In forty sleeps time on the second of September I go to school. It was forty, Melody helped me count before she went,’ his little face clouded over, ‘and I’ve been counting by myself but I’m not sure I’m right…and my birthday is on the third day of September. I’ll be five,’ he finished proudly.

Zoe gulped hard, upset for him and her sister that Mel wasn’t going to be here to see him start school, or for his birthday. But she said nothing. It would do no good to upset him further and it wouldn’t be fair to quiz a four year-old about adult decisions. ‘Well then, you need to have a big think about what you might do at school if you lose a game, because if you get cross like that the teacher will probably make you sit on your own and the other kids might not want to play with you. I bet you want to make friends, don’t you?’ she affirmed by nodding.

‘Yes,’ he agreed seriously.

‘So you have to find ways to not be cross. It’s okay not to win everything, all right? As long as you try your best that’s all that matters. If you feel angry about something, tell me and we can work out how to make you feel better. I know some really cool counting games. Can you do that for me? Will you let me know?’

‘Uh-huh. That would be super cool. Holly might like to play those games with us.’

‘Holly?’ Her face froze, and she stopped on the spiral staircase. Who the heck was Holly? Had Matt moved on to someone new already? He’d only supposedly split with the pop star ex-fiancée just over a week ago. No wonder the kids were confused and insecure if he paraded an endless stream of women through their lives. Why wouldn’t he have told her about a girlfriend? As their nanny, she needed to know these things. Every person in his life was part of his children’s world, a role model or an influence.

‘She’s ‘Ncle Noel’s girlfwiend.’ Jasper lisped as he stared up at her.

Zoe had noticed that one of his two front teeth was not quite fully grown and occasionally affected his speech, but knew it would improve as the tooth grew. ‘I thought the only uncle you have is Stephen?’ she said. ‘Did your mummy have a brother?’

‘No, don’t think so,’ Jasper looked puzzled, glancing over his shoulder at his sister, who shook her head.

‘So who’s Noel then?’ she asked gently, switching her gaze between both children.

‘Daddy’s friend,’ Jasper replied, ‘and my g- g…’ He screwed his face up, rounded cheeks puffing out. ‘My g- something. Can’t remember. But Holly is really, really, really good at ice skating,’ he said excitedly, ‘just like me, we can both skate backwards but she can do spins but I can’t yet and she has long yellow hair and blue eyes and white skin and her teeth sparkle and she makes ‘Ncle Noel smile even though he hates Chwistmas and can be really gwumpy,’ he finished on a gasp of breath.

‘Wow!’ Zoe grinned, ‘Holly sounds amazing! Noel is a lucky guy.’

As Jasper nodded eagerly at her summation, Aimee leaned into Zoe’s side and whispered softly in her ear. ‘Godfather.’

‘Ah. Thank you Aimee,’ she turned her head and murmured back in a low key tone, trying not to look too triumphant that the girl had actually spoken to her. Neither should she get a big head. Aimee had probably only supplied the information through frustration at her brother’s inability to remember Noel’s role in their lives.

When she looked at Aimee and saw her downturned face and pink cheeks, she knew it’d been right not to make a fuss. Starting down the stairs again, she watched to make sure Jasper didn’t trip over his own feet.

‘So, I bet you’ll be extra quick tonight when you get ready for bed, Jasper. Do you think you might be able to beat your sister then?’

‘I’ll try my best!’

‘Good boy.’ Another victory, he’d taken something on board. ‘Same goes for you,’ she said casually at Aimee over one shoulder, ‘anything you need, just ask.’

Aimee didn’t reply, but her expression when Zoe flicked a look at her was quietly grateful.

Zoe felt strangely nervous on reaching the ground floor. Matt had given the impression the other nannies dressed smartly, but she had no idea what they wore in Knightsbridge, so had gone ultra-smart. Was she over-egging it in her grey knee length skirt and matching nipped-in jacket? She probably looked like she was off to the city for an interview. Plus she was going to fry in it. Her body temperature was already climbing.

She gestured the children to go in front of her. ‘Come on, time to say good morning to your dad.’

Aimee turned around, pale red brows drawing together.

‘But we can’t go in and see Daddy in the morning,’ Jasper piped up, ‘we’re not allowed into his office. He finds us to say hello and goodbye when he leaves for work if he can.’

‘Sometimes,’ Aimee supplied in a barely audible voice, staring at her feet.

What? Melody had said he could be closed off from the children, but she hadn’t expected that they weren’t allowed to see him in the morning. ‘I’m sure he’ll want to see you now that you’re up,’ she said blandly. ‘Don’t worry, come on.’

Jasper took a step forward then stopped again and Zoe’s feet tangled with his. ‘Whoa!’ She grabbed him and steadied them both.

‘Melody never let us into Daddy’s office,’ he insisted.

Unluckily for your dad, I’m not Melody. She thought inwardly. I’m far more stubborn for a start.

‘I understand that,’ she said, holding his anxious gaze, ‘but I do things differently and I think your dad will want to say hello to you.’ She squeezed his shoulder. ‘Come on.’

Aimee raised an eyebrow and Zoe could read in her clear blue eyes that she thought their new nanny was making a mistake, but given Jasper had changed his mind and was now racing ahead, she shrugged and followed her little brother to the office door.

Zoe reached above their heads and knocked on it twice firmly, feeling sweat forming in the small of her back. It was so darned hot already. This suit was going to kill her. When there was no answer, she knocked again. After a minute, she lost patience and reached around Jasper’s head, grabbing the door handle and nudging the kids into the room.

Matt spun around in the ergonomic office chair, a scowl on his incredibly good looking face, the desk behind him a chaos of paper, pens, Post-It notes and gadgets.

‘Yep, what is it?’ he turned back to the Mac screen.

‘Aimee and Jasper wanted to say good morning.’

‘Sorry. I’m busy.’ He tapped a few buttons and rubbed the back of his neck.

‘I’m sure you can spare a minute.’ She kept her tone light.

‘Not really.’ He replied vaguely, moving the wireless mouse around. ‘I’m in the middle of something.’

She gritted her teeth. What the heck was the matter with him? Where was the kind, light-hearted guy from earlier in the kitchen?

‘They’re not sure you’ll find them to say goodbye before you leave,’ she explained in a gentle voice for the children’s sakes, ‘which I understand happens sometimes?’

As she said it, Aimee dropped her gaze to study the floor and Jasper started jiggling up and down on the spot.

‘Hmmm?’ Matt tapped some keys again.

‘Matt? Matt!’

‘Yes?’ He looked at her over his shoulder, eyes distant.

Maybe he wasn’t being rude, he was just caught up in what he was doing. She chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘I know you’re not saying you don’t have time to say good morning to Aimee and Jasper,’ she stared at him meaningfully, ‘and I’m sure that if you need uninterrupted work time you’ll go to the office.’ She let that giant hint sit there. ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to speak to me about that other thing now,’ she said softly, giving him a way to make this quick, ‘so this will only take a moment. Kids, go and say morning to your dad. Give him a big squeezy hug.’

Jasper stared uncertainly from his big sister to his dad and back to Zoe, who immediately saw the tension in both children’s shoulders. Looking across the room she saw an equal tension in the set of Matt’s arms, and the way his jaw was clenched.

What was going on here? They never hugged? Zoe was utterly shocked, looking at her boss’s closed expression. What kind of family was this, so shut off from one another? And why hadn’t Melody told her how bad things were? They were young children for God’s sakes. They needed warmth, love and affection to build their self-worth, to feel secure and happy. Self-esteem was crucial to their development and the people they would become.

‘No. I mean, we don’t usually…’ Matt started saying, trailing off as Zoe shook her head slightly then nodded at Aimee to show him how his daughter’s chin was tucked tight against her chest, fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her top. She gestured with a small wave at Jasper, bopping up and down, green eyes wide.

Don’t push your children away, can’t you see what you’re doing to them? Zoe tried to communicate what she was thinking to Matt, looking at him with begging but determined eyes. Her tone was firm. ‘We’ll be out of your hair as soon as it’s done. Just a minute, I promise.’

Staring from one child to another, he tapped his fingers on his knee, shoulders hunched over. Zoe could see the pained indecision on his face, but after a brief hesitation while he studied Aimee’s pose, he conceded with a curt nod, face twisting with something she couldn’t peg.

Full of relief, Zoe smiled brightly at Matt and his mouth swung open, looking surprised. Bending over she peered up into Aimee’s face. ‘Go on,’ she encouraged. ‘Your dad’s ready for his hug now.’

Aimee frowned.

‘He is. Come on, look at him. Get to it!’

The girl gave Zoe a look of pure disbelief but cocked her head around her to look at her dad. He crooked his fingers at her, jaw flexing again.

Aimee bit her lip and threw her a look. If this goes wrong, it’s on you.

Zoe smiled bravely. Fair enough.

Shrugging her thin shoulders, Aimee wandered towards her dad, throwing a quick glance at her little brother, who was watching the action with interest, still jiggling away. Matt flushed as his daughter approached him, face still rigid, but moved forward in his chair, normally graceful movements strangely uncoordinated.

They wrapped their arms around each other hesitantly, and it was one of the most awkward hugs Zoe had ever seen, but then something in Matt seemed to unravel and he relaxed, muscular arms tightening around Aimee, eyes closing. He rested his head against her auburn hair, swallowing hard, and then opened his eyes and arms, inviting his son into their little circle.

Jasper sprang across the room like he’d been waiting for years, hurling himself at his dad and sister, his small face full of innocent joy as he snuggled into them. Matt scooped them tighter against his broad chest, closing his eyes again and Zoe melted a little as she saw his love for his kids. Why he wasn’t usually affectionate with them she didn’t know. He was a natural once he loosened up. And why she found him so extraordinarily sexy holding his children, her knickers melting along with her heart, she couldn’t work out. She fanned herself. It was getting hotter inside and outside.

Maybe it was a biological thing programmed in by evolution, the sight of a big, capable tough man protecting his children triggering a need to make more. It might explain why the famous Athena poster of a bare-chested man holding a tiny baby had sold so many millions of copies. God only knew, but whatever it was, she didn’t like the tender feelings racing through her. It was totally and utterly wrong. She started backing toward the door, intent on escape and happy to leave them to their private family moment. Maybe she’d splash her face with cold water to cool down.

‘Kids,’ Matt said huskily as he opened his eyes and saw her exit attempt, ‘can you go into the kitchen and sit at the table? Zoe will be there in a minute.’ He released them, standing up. ‘Close the door on your way out please.’

Oh, crap.

Both children smiled widely at her as they left the room, and Zoe smiled back with pleasure for them but a sinking feeling in her stomach. As soon as the door shut she stepped forward, needing to take control of the situation. Waiting to be bawled out was awful. ‘I’m sorry if I ambushed you, but I had no idea that’s the way things were,’ she was aware her voice was both apologetic and defiant, ‘and really you can’t expect me to let you reject your children by not hugging them and they’re bound to want to see you in the mornings, they’re kids, they need to know you love them. Also how would you feel if you didn’t see them and then something happened to one of them, you’d regret it and—’

‘Whoa! Slow down, Zoe! Wait a minute.’ Matt held up his hands, walking toward her, forest green eyes searching her face. He shook his head and blew out a long, slow breath, gathering his thoughts. ‘Look, I wasn’t pleased at the interruption when you first came in, I’ll admit. When I’m disturbed I find it really hard to get back into whatever I’m working on and sometimes I have to start again, which seems to take twice as long. I guess it comes with being creative. I get so immersed I lose track of myself and what’s going on around me, and then when I’m yanked out of that place I find it jarring. I know that can be difficult for other people to understand,’ he stated. ‘I’ll also admit that I don’t like feeling slightly bullied by you and your steely, don’t mess with me eyes…I mean, at one point I was scared you were going to kill me if I didn’t hug the kids,’ he chuckled, ‘but I can see that you were in a tough position. You weren’t to know that we’re not really the hugging types,’ he trailed off, looking uncertain. ‘When you forced me look at Aimee and I saw…what I saw, well, you were right to insist. But you don’t get to tell me how to raise my children, and there will be some things I won’t give in to,’ he emphasised.

‘It was the right thing to do, and I don’t regret it,’ she defended, ‘but if you feel bullied, I’m sorry. I also accept that you’re their dad and should know what’s best for them.’ Except that for years he’d given them little physical affection and appeared to have kept them at the periphery of his attention. She also knew from Jasper’s chatter at bedtime the night before, that Matt had signed them up for hobbies they detested, like horse-riding, draughts and fencing. So at the moment, she needed convincing that he had their best interests at heart.

‘Why do I feel like there’s an unspoken criticism in there somewhere?’ he asked dryly, rubbing a hand through his messy dark hair.

She shrugged, letting him fill the silence. Sometimes you had to let other people do the talking, to realise things for themselves.

‘Look. I love my kids, and I spend a lot of time protecting them,’ he stated. ‘Not everyone shows their love in the same overt way. Everyone’s different. But believe me, I work hard to provide for them and be a positive role model,’ he sucked in his cheeks, ‘I just hadn’t realised how much the lack of affection has affected them. Melody, my last nanny, never said anything about it and she was with us for three years,’ he frowned.

No way was she going to criticise her sister, even if she was wondering the same as Matt. ‘Perhaps she shouldn’t have had to. In any case, as you said, everyone’s different. Maybe she didn’t feel able to bring it up with you. You can be a bit… erm, never mind,’ she raced on when he raised both eyebrows, ‘I’m just more confident than some people. So, when and why did you stop hugging them?’ She gazed at him, wanting to know the story despite the fact that she shouldn’t care.

‘I’m really intrigued as to what I’m a bit of, but won’t hold you to it,’ Matt’s stern mouth quirked up on one side, before his face turned grim. ‘I don’t want to talk about it though Zoe, if you don’t mind. However, I’ll make more of an effort going forward.’ His expression was written with guilt. ‘They both looked so happy.’

‘Well, that’s good, and as long as I’m not in trouble—’

‘Don’t speak too soon,’ he replied. ‘What exactly are you trying to prove with that?’ Pointing at her jacket.

‘Nothing,’ she hitched her chin up, doing her best to pretend she wasn’t incredibly hot and wanted nothing more than to rip the stupid suit off. ‘You said I wouldn’t fit in, that I needed to dress the part so as not to embarrass the children. So I got changed into something smarter, like you said.’

He shook his head, looking impatient. ‘Not a suit! And I told you it wasn’t about embarrassing us. Now go and change.’

She shook her head, even as sweat broke out on her face. He hadn’t even said please.

His mobile started ringing on the desk. Stalking across the office he grabbed it and pressed the end-call button. ‘Shit! I’ve got that meeting soon. Sadie, please come back, all is forgiven.’ He cast both eyes up at the ceiling and joined his hands together in mock prayer. ‘I’m not sure how much more of this I can cope with,’ he said to Zoe. ‘I’m so used to Sadie organising me. I don’t know whether I’m coming and going, and all I want to do is get back into the studio. I just hope she recovers soon and that the hamper I sent helps…But anyway,’ walking back over to Zoe, he threw her a hard look, ‘I’m sorry, but I haven’t got time for this. We both know you’re being a little ridiculous. Please go and change.’

‘I’m fine.’ He was right, but she’d look silly backing down just like that and she didn’t like being bossed around. It made her wonder if this is what he’d been like with Melody the day he threw her out. Her fingers curled into her palms. She couldn’t forget what a bastard he’d been to her sister, even if he did seem to have some redeeming qualities, like wanting to be a good person for his children, and being nice to sick staff and having a sense of humour. Stop it. ‘Really,’ she insisted, ‘I’m fine.’

‘But you won’t be, with the predicted temperature today. I can’t believe you’re serious. You’ll bake if you leave the house.’ He glanced down at his watch, swore and moved away from her to start grabbing things off his desk, throwing his iPad, notepad and a sheaf of paperwork into a messenger bag before looping it across his chest.

‘It’s not that hot,’ she answered.

‘It will be,’ he shot back, stalking back over to her. ‘Come on,’ he stepped closer, eyes narrowing. ‘Look how overheated you got at our interview; ready to fall over from standing on the doorstep too long. You’ll make yourself ill, and then where will my kids be? Take it off.’ Reaching out, he curled a big hand around the jacket collar and tugged her closer.

She froze, smelling his aftershave, far too close to his broad, muscular chest, her body flashing with heat, but not because of the weather this time. She mustn’t sway towards him. Couldn’t ask him to put his fingers down inside her collar, to run them over the tops of her boobs, to—

‘Is this wool?’ he asked in disbelief, testing the material between two fingers.

‘Er—’ she pulled a face. ‘It might be.’

‘It’s the middle of summer. You’re completely insane,’ he joked. ‘Right, that’s it. Take it off. I don’t want to get done at tribunal for not ensuring the health and well-being of my employees.’

‘No!’ She might have given in at that point but quite apart from sticking to her guns, there was a really good reason she didn’t want to remove the jacket in front of him.

‘Yes!’ he insisted. To her shock, he started unbuttoning it, and she wrestled with him, trying to bat him away.

‘Matt, don’t!’ Oh shit, she thought fleetingly. ‘I said don—’

Unfortunately the jacket only had four buttons, his fingers made mega-quick work of them and she stepped back at the same time as he undid the last one.

The jacket flew open, revealing her pale, round breasts encased in a red lacy bra.

‘Bloody hell!’ His breath whooshed out, eyes all but popping out of his head as he took in her cleavage. ‘You’re not wearing a top!’

‘Thank you Captain Obvious, I didn’t know that,’ she muttered, yanking the jacket back together, doing it up with fumbling fingers, face burning as he spun around to give her some privacy. This was so embarrassing, and would probably forever be known as either jacket-gate or bra-gate. Why it had to happen in front of Matt of all people, she didn’t know. It was just her luck. ‘Sorry,’ she thought of how her sarcastic Captain Obvious comment must have sounded, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘That’s fine. I’m sorry too. I-I just meant…Bloody hell,’ he repeated. ‘Why?’

‘It is too hot,’ she grimaced. Now the outfit choice looked really stupid. ‘And I didn’t think it would matter that I had nothing on underneath. You can turn around now,’ she said. When he obeyed, it was like he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her, fixing his eyes on a spot on the wall over her left shoulder. She gazed up at him, seeing the nonplussed expression on his face. For some reason her mouth quirked up on one side. They must have looked like complete idiots during their little struggle, her trying to keep the jacket on, him trying to get her out of it. ‘I wasn’t planning on taking the jacket off,’ she explained, ‘and I didn’t foresee a madman coming along and trying to wrestle me out of it,’ she finished drily.

‘No,’ he conceded, dropping his eyes to her face, ‘I don’t suppose you did.’ For a moment he looked solemn, but then his mouth curved, a spark of warmth in his eyes.

Their gazes connected. There was a silence.

‘It was like a comedy sketch or something,’ he choked out. ‘Your face! I’ve never seen anyone look so panicked!’

She couldn’t help it, grinning back. ‘Well, you can understand why now.’ She gave into laughter, holding her side. ‘We must have looked pretty ridiculous. I mean, imagine if the kids had seen us,’ she snorted.

‘They’d think that we’ve lost it,’ he agreed, laughing. ‘Not a great example to set for them.’

Oh, bugger. The kids. She’d forgotten all about them. It’d never happened to her before. In her other jobs she hadn’t ever neglected her professional responsibilities. ‘Oh, God, they’re alone in the kitchen. I should go.’

‘Yes,’ Matt crossed back to his desk, looking puzzled, ‘me too. That’s right, I have work to do, a meeting to go to.’ He rammed his phone into his jeans pocket, hunting around in the mess of music sheets and other random items. ‘Keys… keys. Argh…bloody things.’

Zoe stood by the door, watching as he cast various papers and a spare tablet around. ‘Um, Matt.’

‘Hmmm?’ He picked up an expandable file, shook it, put it back down. Picked up a mug of all things, as if the keys would be hiding in it or under it somehow.

‘Don’t you put your car keys in the bowl by the door?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘The bowl,’ his head came up and he glanced over at her, face clearing. ‘Yeah, you’re right, I always do. I can’t think why I forgot—’ his green eyes flickered over her chest. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he blurted, racing past her out of the office. ‘See you this evening. Bye kids.’ She heard him yell, followed by the slam of the door and the quiet purr of the Prius rapidly fading into the distance.

Shaking her head at his odd departure, Zoe walked into the kitchen to find Jasper standing by the fridge, face covered in strawberry jam, slices of bread, utensils and bowls littering the floor and work surfaces.

‘I got hungry,’ Jasper explained woefully, staring up at her with an expression on his face that said please don’t tell me off.

Aimee was completely oblivious, head stuck in a thick book of fairytales with line drawings on the cover.

‘That’s okay,’ ruffling Jasper’s hair, Zoe lead him over to the sink and started wiping his hands and face with a damp cloth, ‘it was my fault. I took too long with your dad.’ She blushed as she thought of all the things they could have done if they’d had more time. If when he’d opened her jacket he’d sunk to his knees and buried his face in her cleavage and—

No. Remember why you’re here.

There was no doubt about it, Matt was hot, but her sister came first, she wasn’t letting her down again. Plus, no good came of getting involved on the rebound. ‘Next time come and get me, okay?’ she asked the little boy, shaking her head as she found a clump of red jam in the hair behind his ear. ‘When you want jam, remember it’s supposed to go on something, Jasper. Like toast. Not the floor, or yourself,’ she smiled.

‘Yes, Zoe,’ he nodded.

‘Great. Now how about giving me a hand clearing up this mess?’ Stooping over, she picked up a bowl and two spoons.

‘Do I have to?’ he whined. ‘Melody wouldn’t have made me.’

She loved her sister, but had she been half asleep on the job or something? At seven and nearly five, these children were old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, and to be clearing up after themselves. Just because their dad was super-rich and super-successful, it didn’t mean they couldn’t learn some traditional values and personal responsibility. She must ask Matt about it, and talk to Mel too.

‘It would be great if you could,’ she said to Jasper casually. ‘But if you’re worried I can pick up more things faster than you…’

‘No, you can’t!’

‘Can!’ Wiggling her eyebrows.

‘Can’t.’ He giggled, racing over to grab a couple of forks off the side and bring them to her.

‘Good boy,’ she nodded approvingly scooping up slices of bread, and randomly, a bottle opener. They were definitely not being left alone in the kitchen again, until they were better trained. ‘Everything that’s been on the floor will need to go in a pile in the sink so I can wash them up.’

‘Ok-ay,’ Jasper sang cheerfully, clattering a mixing bowl and wooden spoon into the sink, along with a broken egg.

God only knew what he’d been trying to make.

‘So, what would you like for breakfast kids? And where do you want to go today? Aimee’s choice remember, because she got ready the quickest. Aimee?’

At the sound of her name, the girl’s head jerked up, wearing the same look of fierce concentration as her dad when he was immersed in something. It was sweet.

‘What do you want for breakfast? And where would you like me to take the two of you?’

Aimee bit her lip, squinting. ‘Pancakes please. And…’ she paused, started to say something then seemed to change her mind, ‘um, the library?’ she finished instead.

Jasper let out a little groan behind her. ‘The library? Bo-ring.’

‘It’s Aimee’s decision, Jasper,’ she said firmly, while wondering how the heck she was going to keep him occupied in such a quiet, contained environment. ‘Come on, books are fun. We’ll find some good ones for you too, okay? I’m sure there’s a nice children’s corner,’ praying wholeheartedly it was true. ‘Aimee,’ she asked hesitantly, ‘how would you feel about going to the park on the way home? Just for ten minutes or so? The nearest one is Hyde Park, right?’

Aimee nodded, then shook her head. ‘I don’t want to. Maybe another day.’

‘Are you sure? I thought it was a nice one, though I’ve never been. It’s not far at all, and it’s lovely and sunny today.’

But the girl shook her head resolutely with her lower lip sticking out and returned her attention to her book.

Ordinarily Zoe would go over to her, ask what was going on, but Jasper was tugging at her jacket insistently and it was obvious Aimee wasn’t ready to open up. There was no point in pressing too hard; it had taken two visits and as many days to get Aimee to even speak to her in half sentences.

‘No problem,’ she said matter-of-factly, ‘we can always find some games to play in the back garden.’ She turned to Jasper, seeing Aimee pull a relieved face from the corner of her eye. ‘So Mister, pancakes?’

‘Yay! Pancakes! Pancakes!’ Jasper started jumping up and down.

‘Okay. If you calm down you can help me make them.’ He really was a bundle of energy.

‘Yay!’ He bounded over to her, grabbing hold of her hand. ‘Super cool! I want you to stay, Zoe.’

Aww, bless. ‘That’s lovely Jasper. Because I’m letting you help me make pancakes?’

‘Because you’re nice,’ he decided solemnly.

‘Oh. Thank you.’ She gulped, his remark both warming and worrying her. They were good kids at heart, they just needed boundaries and the right kind of attention-slash-authority. But what she hadn’t thought through properly when embarking on Plan Nannygate was that the kids might get attached to her.

‘What about you, Aimee?’ she asked gently. ‘Are you happy with me being here?’

The girl looked up with a distracted air, and nodded once.

‘Do you think I’m nice too?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She focused back on her book, turning the page. Zoe thought she was done, but just as she went to turn away Aimee spoke again. ‘You got Daddy to hug us. It’s been forever.’

Zoe bit the inside of her cheek, insanely sad for the kids. The plan was for revenge, but while she was here, there was no harm in trying to make things better for them as a family, for the good of the children. Was there?

6

It was a harried trip to graceful Mayfair library, during which Jasper caused near mayhem. Running around the ends of stacks, he pulled books off shelves and talked in the loudest voice possible despite stern glances from a staff member. Zoe used every behaviour management tool she could think of, along with repeated shushing, but eventually had to take him for a time-out, letting Aimee know she’d be out front for a few minutes.

They sat on the stone steps of the entrance while Jasper calmed down, his Ben 10 baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, feet tapping on the pavement. She relaxed in the balmy sunlight, reading a leaflet picked up from the foyer about the weddings they performed in one of the two ceremony rooms. From the pictures, the venue looked romantic and intimate. Zoe could think of few nicer places to get married; surrounded by books in a nineteenth century building with the beautiful Mount Street Gardens next door, perfect for taking photos.

It was a far cry from the wedding she and Greg had planned at the St. Regis on Manhattan Island, which was as glamorously luxurious as it was hideously expensive. Greg had made his money on the stock markets and was more than happy showing his wealth off. She had insisted on contributing to the cost of the wedding but wondered now how comfortable she would have been on her own wedding day in such rich surroundings, when at heart she was an orphan from the British seaside. She also wondered how comfortable she would have been moving in with him permanently, subject to his world twenty-four-seven. Still, if they’d loved each other enough then it wouldn’t have mattered. They’d have made it work.

Shrugging the thought off, she reminded Jasper of the need to behave and lead him inside by the hand with a firm grip. In sharp contrast to her brother, Aimee was in heaven in the library. Walking purposefully between shelves, she ran her fingers along scripted spines and stroked glossy covers. When she stuffed her rucksack full with the maximum amount of books she could borrow, checked in by a librarian who knew her by name, Zoe was surprised to see a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird go in. It was advanced reading for a girl her age.

As they walked home along wide Park Lane which guarded the eastern boundary of lovely Hyde Park—Zoe looking longingly at the green spaces and trees she could see across the road—down to Hyde Park Corner and along Knightsbridge, Aimee walked with her nose stuck in the Harper Lee classic. Zoe was tempted to tell her not to, especially with how busy the streets were with teeming crowds of tourists snapping away with cameras, shoppers swinging branded bags filled with new summer wardrobes and countless black cabs zipping past. It would be hypocritical though. She’d read books in the street right into her teens, skilfully learning to step around lamp posts and avoid people, and still recalled the guilty pleasure of every possible stolen reading moment. Heck, if she could get away with it now, she would. So she held Jasper’s hand and settled for placing a guiding hand on Aimee’s shoulder as the girl traipsed along.

When they got home, Aimee shut herself away in her room without a word and Zoe decided to leave her to it. She could hardly complain that one of her two new charges loved reading and was happiest when expanding her mind and vocabulary. In that way, she was a dream. On the other hand, she could do with learning a few more social skills. It wouldn’t do her good being too insular.

For a few hours Zoe and Jasper painted and coloured-in while sitting up on stools at the kitchen units, newspapers spread out to protect the expensive marble, aprons on to protect their clothes. Zoe opened the window to let in some fresh air, and turned the radio on so that pop music created a white noise in the background. Occasionally the buzz of a lawn mower drifted in, punctuated by a child’s laugh or call. There must be other kids in the neighbourhood, and Zoe wondered if Jasper or Aimee were friends with any of them.

Just before noon the beeping of horns and high-pitched two-note tone of a siren sounded, getting ever closer. Jasper jumped at the noise, arm freezing in place, paintbrush clutched in his sturdy fingers. Somewhere above their heads, a thud sounded.

‘Everything all right?’ Zoe frowned at the ceiling, and put a hand on Jasper’s back.

Turning his head, he stared at her with solemn green eyes. ‘Don’t like sirens,’ he answered in a tight voice, trembles rippling through him. ‘Mummy went when sirens came.’

‘Oh.’ There were some residual memories of the accident then, even though he’d been so young. ‘Well, there’s nothing to be worried about now, okay? We’re here, your sister is upstairs with her book, and your dad is safely at work. Besides, ambulances go to help people, right? They nee-naw like that to move cars out the way so they can get to people in trouble as quickly as possible. Everything is okay,’ she soothed, stroking his back until the sirens faded away. ‘See? They’ve gone.’

With a nod, he dipped his brush in the blue paint and started outlining swirling clouds. Zoe gazed down at his ruffled hair, marvelling at how freely he’d shared his fears with her, so soon after she’d arrived in his life. Still, that was kids for you, especially younger ones. They were open books. They barely had filters at this age and blurted out pretty much everything they thought.

‘Stay there for a minute, all right? Just keep painting. I need to check on your sister.’ Thinking of the thudding noise. Racing upstairs, she knocked on Aimee’s door, pushing it open gently when there was no reply. ‘Everything good up here?’ she asked, hoping Jasper didn’t get into too much mischief while she was gone. She stared at Aimee’s downturned head, nose only a few inches from the page. ‘I thought I heard something hit the deck,’ Zoe said, ‘was it in here?’ There was no answer, just a slight tightening of the little girl’s pink lips. ‘Oh well, I must have imagined it then,’ she added lightly, ‘never mind. I’ll leave you to it. Lunch is in a bit, by the way.’ Aimee’s gaze flickered upwards and she nodded once, but Zoe could see that her eyes were suspiciously bright. Maybe Jasper wasn’t the only one affected by sirens. ‘If you need anything, we’re in the kitchen.’ She backed out of the room, leaving the girl alone with her thoughts. When she was ready to talk about it, she would.

Zoe wandered down the spiral stairs, hand clutching the curved white rail. She could still remember the horror she’d felt when Mel had told her over Skype, brown eyes tear-filled, that both children had been in the car crash that killed their mum. Mel had only arrived with the family a few days before, and Matt had been battling along without help for three months before hiring a nanny. It had been a difficult time for all of them and Zoe knew that her sister, who could be emotionally fragile at times, had found it hard to deal with their grief. Slowly however, she knew things had gotten better. Or thought they had.

When she sloped back into the kitchen, heart weighed down with the sad thoughts, Zoe halted, mouth opening. ‘Jasper,’ she breathed, fighting not to laugh, ‘what did you do?’

Grinning proudly, he pointed to his face, which was painted a bright shade of blue, save for a crooked, naked stripe down the middle over his nose. ‘I’m Braveheart. It’s one of daddy’s favourite films. He won’t let me watch it but ‘Ncle Stephen lets me sneak peeks sometimes. This is what they do when they fight.’

‘It is.’ Shaking her head, she tried to be serious but sniggered instead. He looked so earnest, and more like a haphazard smurf than a warrior. The fact he’d managed to miss his hair was a minor miracle. ‘But that kind of paint is for paper, not for faces,’ she pointed out. ‘If you want to do this again, please let me know and we’ll buy some proper face paints.’ Reaching for her phone from one of the shelves, she held it out in front of her. ‘Can I take a picture?’

‘Yep! To show Daddy!’

‘That’s a great idea,’ she said, deftly pressing two buttons and taking a selection of photos. ‘We won’t tell him you didn’t ask permission, but I’ll send him a picture if you promise that next time you will.’

He nodded decisively, blue dripping off his chin and plunking onto his plastic red apron. ‘Deal.’

Grinning, she sent Matt a picture via WhatsApp, with the caption Your son has the same movie tastes as you. ‘Right, done.’ A reply wasn’t necessarily something she expected, but a minute later a smiley face icon and Lol, that’s my boy comment pinged her mobile. Smiling, she tucked her phone away and dampened some kitchen roll, standing Jasper at the sink to wash his face off.

After cleaning him up, they made fresh bread for lunch. At the end of the bread-making session, Jasper had managed to get little white-flour finger marks over himself, Zoe and most surfaces in the kitchen. With a chuckle Zoe wiped the sides down and they got the kitchen roll back out, turning the radio up and bopping around while they got clean again, before setting up a picnic in the garden. This time Jasper helped her without complaint.

When Zoe called Aimee for lunch, it took a full ten minutes to coax her from her bedroom at the same time as trying to keep an eye on Jasper, who was banging something about in his jam-packed room across the hall.

‘Aimee,’ she resorted to quiet authority after nice requests and cajoling had failed, ‘you can’t starve, and I’ll be more than happy to discuss your favourite books with you or let you carry on reading after lunch, but if you don’t come downstairs and eat with us before all the food gets swarmed by ants, I’m going to have to withdraw a privilege.’ The girl looked at her with wide eyes, waiting to see what she’d do. Zoe knew it was a test. So she let out a big sigh, shaking her head sorrowfully. ‘I would really, really hate to have to take one of your books away, because I understand how much you love them. I’m a big reader too,’ she confessed. ‘There’s nothing better than getting lost in another world and making new friends. But you have to live in the real world sometimes, okay?’ Throwing the door open wider, gesturing to the staircase. ‘Come on. You can have a quick bite then sit in the shade and read some more, or you can have a longer lunch and we can talk books while your brother plays on his swing set. The choice is yours.’

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