Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(56)

Nicole stretched and Brad and I separated, laughing quietly. She turned around and nuzzled her father as if she was afraid of him leaving. She was the most perfect safety net.

“She’s right.” He patted Nicole. “I think I met a hundred pretty girls today.” He brushed hair from his daughter’s face. “Some were even qualified for your job. But I didn’t want them. I’m not even talking about fu—” He stopped himself before dropping an f-bomb in front of her. Good man. “They all had one thing in common.” He looked up at me. “They weren’t you.”

I didn’t breathe. I was too confused. I couldn’t stay his daughter’s nanny. It was a trap. He was wrong for me. Too much partying. Too busy with his job. He’d never be faithful or stable. But I wanted him, and I’d never have him if I stayed.

I was aware of the contradiction, but I wanted him.

“This is a mess,” I whispered. “If I stay with Nicole, this is off-limits. You and I. We don’t exist. We can never exist. And I can’t be here with you guys and be around you anymore. It’s too hard.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You have to trust me.” He touched my cheek again. “I have it under control.”

“You’re pretty confident.” My eyes fluttered closed. I didn’t know what I was saying; I just wanted him to keep stroking my face and neck all night long.

“I’m going to find a way to have you,” he said. “I don’t do halfway. Ask anyone. I’m all-in, all the time. And it’s you, Cara DuMont. I want all of you. You feel right to me. Everything about you. Your voice, your face, that body. That body.”

He bit his lower lip. I wished I could photograph the moment I felt like his world. No one else. Nothing else. Just me. I spent so many days being an invisible force in people’s lives that his full attention was as uncomfortable as it was arousing. We spent long seconds doing nothing but looking at each other in the night light. He became something more than the player, the partier, the brilliant but unmoored talent.

“If my daughter wasn’t in this bed, you’d be moaning so loud.”

“Let me find another job.”

“And then?”

“You’ll have to make good on those promises, southern boy.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

We were up hours after that, sharing jokes, touching what we could safely reach. I think I slept a little, but for the first time since I took the job, I didn’t have a vivid dream of his body next to mine.





CHAPTER 39


CARA


“I told West Side Nannies I’d take anything,” I said to Brad while braiding Nicole’s hair at the breakfast table. “So I have to get over there.”

Brad wore shorts and sandals. Nothing extraordinary except the shape they covered. His sunglasses were already pushed to the top of his head, and he hadn’t even left the house yet.

“But, today? You had to jump so fast?”

I was annoyed that he was annoyed. He’d seemed so urgent about it the day before, and now I couldn’t tell if he was vacillating or if he just didn’t get it.

I didn’t want to seek clarity in front of Nicole, so I just braided her hair while she ate her cereal and hummed to herself. He watched me. Full eye contact. Tapping his foot.

“Daddy,” Nicole said matter-of-factly as she pointed at the top of her head, “watch Miss Cara. See how she does it?”

Perfect time to change the subject.

“Look,” I said. He stood hip to hip with me, his foot pushing against mine, shoulders touching. “You start at the top with three strands and gather more as you go.”

“You sure have nice fingers,” he said with a thick southern accent.

“Watch the hair.” I went quickly. “Over. Catch. Over. Catch. See?”

“Are you going to take a picture with the princesses?” Nicole asked. Neither one of us answered. Nicole looked up at me, almost pulling the end of the braid away.

“I’m not going today.” I finished off my work with a little blue elastic.

Her face went from excited to distressed.

“Why?”

“I have to meet some friends.”

I waited but got no help from Brad. He could be a real jerk sometimes. Like when his daughter wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Note to self.

Nicole put on a sulk, turned to her dad, then back to me.

“Why can’t they come?”

“They won’t fit in the helicopter,” Brad said. Well, that was an answer at least. It wasn’t going to work but he tried.

“Get another one.” An obvious solution to any self-respecting five-year-old. Grown-ups were so stupid, and I smiled in spite of myself. Brad did the same.

That smile hit me broadside. It wasn’t about his power or his ability to control his daughter. It was about a moment’s delight in a child’s logic. I liked him again. He was likeable for a hundred reasons he got paid good money for. But there was more to him. He was genuine. He listened. He was open to change yet stalwart in his beliefs. He spent his money on things that pleased him or minimized inconvenience, not status objects. He never pretended to be more than he was but didn’t suffer from insecurity or false humility.