Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(35)

Monica looks at Zayden like she recognizes his picture from some FBI most wanted list.

“Oh.” That's it. No nice to meet you or hi, I'm Brooke's aunt, Monica, just … oh. When her eyes swing over to the folding crib on the other side of the room, her dark brows soar. “I just came over to see if you needed any help with the girls—” several days after my parents leave town when she knows I've been struggling to find a job “—but I don't see them anywhere? Are they upstairs?”

“They're at school,” I say, trying not to sound frustrated as she makes her way over to the sleeping baby. “That's Zayden's—” My mind scrambles for a way to describe his relationship to the baby. His charge? His steward? I don't know what nannies call the kids they watch.

“That's my niece,” he says, sliding his hands into his front pockets in a way that draws my attention, sticks it to him like glue. The way he moves is so … fluid, like nothing really matters, like any problem can be solved with a wink and a smile. I'm envious, even though I don't think an attitude like that really works in life. Not for long anyway and not successfully. “Brooke isn't the only one who got strapped with babysitting duties.”

“Oh?” Monica asks, pausing and curling her long fake nails over the side of the crib. She always gets these crazy long acrylics that used to scare me as a child. When I was ten, I was always refused to open Christmas gifts from her because I was convinced she was going to wrap up a spinning wheel for me to prick my finger on. “Your sister doesn't mind you taking her baby out of town? A child this young?” I try not to roll my eyes, but I think I do anyway. Who the hell does this woman think she is?

“Brother, actually. And no. He's in South Africa with his wife. Her parents were in a pretty horrific car accident.” Monica stands up and lets go of the crib, moving away and reaching up to play with the gold cross around her neck. I've always hated this, but I definitely look more like her than I do my own mother. Like Bella, Monica also takes after our grandmother.

Zay and I exchange a quick look, and I try to tell him with my eyes that I appreciate his coming up with a quick story. A weirdly specific story though … unless of course it's true? I've never asked where the kids came from or how he got involved with them.

Holy crap.

And I was just going to sleep with this man again? Am I losing my mind?

“I didn't know they had cars in Africa,” Monica says and I feel my brows shoot up. She waves her hand in the air. “I thought it was all lions and zebras and safari grass.”

“Um. Nope. There's, like, several million people that live in Joburg alone.” Zayden smiles as he says this, but his pierced brow is quirked up.

“When do you pick the girls up? I was hoping to take them to get their nails done.”

See what I mean? Grace is four. You don't take four year olds to get their nails done.

“I don't think that's going to happen today, Aunt Monica,” I say, trying to be as nice as possible so I can get rid of the woman. “Maybe if you give me a call sometime later this week, we could work something out?” She nods, but I can tell she's not ready to leave yet. God, I hate busybodies.

“Have you found a job yet?” she asks, but it's not like she really cares. If she did, she would've stepped up sooner to help out. It's not like I don't notice her designer purse and coat, her expensive haircut, the bracelets she's wearing.

My mouth twitches as Zayden's cat comes creeping down the stairs and pauses with his bald face around the corner. After a moment, he hisses and disappears back the way he came. At least the cat has the right idea.

“Still looking,” I lie as I pass a look Zayden's way. It's highly doubtful he'd be stupid enough to blow my cover, but you never know with people. He just smiles at me with that sexy mouth of his, lacing his fingers behind his neck. The move makes his shirt ride up a little in the front, flashes me a tight belly with just a trickle of hair and a ring through his belly button. I never thought that kind of thing would look good on a guy, but he manages to pull it off.

I take a deep breath and drag my eyes away, doing my best not to think about how I'd like my mouth down there, kissing across the flat bridge of skin above his waistband, curling my fingers around the denim and pushing it down.

“Well, Zay and I were just on our way out, so …”

“Isn't the baby sleeping?” Monica asks, gesturing back at the crib with a hand, her pale brown eyes taking in the room as she sneaks over to the bathroom and peeks in, takes a long lingering look at the kitchen, pauses at the sliding glass door to the back and stares out at the pack of chihuahuas/hairless rats that are cowering under the awning. There's a doghouse out there with a pile of freshly washed towels in it, but apparently they'd all rather sit here and stare at us.

Before I can come up with an answer for that, Zay's leaning into the crib and hefting Sadie up and onto his shoulder, rubbing her back with his colorful hand. I hate the way my heart jumps and shudders when I watch him holding her like that. Eww. No. I'm too young to be thinking about how sexy a guy looks with a baby on his shoulder.

“She'll fall right back asleep in the car,” Zay says as he smiles at Monica. “Sorry you stopped by just to see us on our way out. But if you want to spend time with the kids, maybe you can watch the whole brood for us on Saturday? Brooke and I were planning on a date before the sitter cancelled. What do you say? Six kids, think you can handle that?”