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“Have you thought about what I said, Alec?” Bianca asked as she approached. She wore jeans and a loose T-shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary, yet both suited her perfectly. Her feet were bare, her toes painted with little American flags. “I’m sure they would enjoy it.”
Alec exhaled. “My mother thinks I should invite a few nuns over for lunch.”
Margot glanced at him. “You know nuns?”
“No. She wants me to find a local convent and ask them over.”
“Why?”
He looked at her, his expression clearly indicating there was no reasonable explanation and with luck, this, too, would pass.
Bianca stopped in front of them. She was maybe five-four or five-five, at least three inches shorter than Margot.
“Because of what Alec has done with the monastery,” she said, her voice light and happy. “They would be delighted to see how you’ve kept the spirit of the building while modernizing it.”
“The master bedroom is in what used to be the church,” he said drily. “I doubt the nuns would approve.”
Bianca linked arms with him. “Oh, darling, don’t worry about that. It’s not as if you’re having sex there.” She winked at Margot. “Alec goes out for that sort of thing. He’s a little bit like a groundhog. Once a year he makes an appearance, so to speak, then retreats to his regular world.”
Margot wasn’t sure if the comment was meant to shock her or test her or humiliate Alec. Given the warm tone and loving expression, she doubted it was the latter. Still, it was an unusual thing to say to a stranger—especially about her own son.
“I’m Margot. It’s nice to meet you.” Margot held out her hand.
Bianca shook it. “It’s nice to be met.” Her smile broadened. “I’m a fairly hopeless case, as I’m sure Alec has told you. I’m impulsive and reckless and not the sort of person who should be marrying a professional diplomat. But here we are, trying to make it work.” Her smile faltered. “It’s just that Wesley is all I’ve ever wanted. I love him and I don’t want to be the reason he loses his job.”
For a second her eyes were no longer bright but instead filled with fear and uncertainty. Margot studied the flash of emotions and saw the exact moment self-preservation kicked in.
“Imagine falling in love at my age!” she said with a laugh. “What a ridiculous thing. Until now I’ve only really loved one person and that’s Alec.” She smiled up at him. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to have someone else share that burden.”
Margot nearly felt dizzy from the emotional ping-pong. Bianca had shifted from the odd comment about Alec’s sex life to a flash of honest vulnerability with a quick return to fact, all couched in a protective shield of humor. There was a lot more going on here than the desire to learn which fork to use.
One of the advantages of being socially awkward—not that there were many—was the ability to recognize it in others. Bianca might be more beautiful than 99 percent of the population, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable in her own skin. She was obviously afraid of disappointing everyone she cared about. Perhaps she thought she’d been doing it for years. How intriguing, Margot thought, suddenly itching to get on her computer and begin working on her development program.
Alec squeezed his mother’s hand. “I just want you to be happy.”
Bianca flashed him a smile that was brighter than the sun Alec had mentioned earlier, then turned to Margot. “Shall we have a little talk to see if we suit?”
“I’d like that.”
Bianca led her to the table in the center of the paved garden while Alec retreated to the house. When they were seated across from each other, Bianca studied her for a second.
“You don’t need to wear glasses, do you?”
The question surprised Margot. “No. How did you know?”
“I’ve worn prop glasses before. Why do you do it? No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.” Her gaze turned probing. “You want to look smart. Oh, because you’re pretty. You must be very serious about your work. I never was. I liked acting but I was never passionate about it.” The mega smile returned. “However, they do pay me a ridiculous amount of money for it, so why not?”
One shoulder rose and lowered. “Tell me. Can I be fixed? Do you have the skills to make me just like everyone else?”
Margot saw the trap in the question immediately. She sensed that Bianca was testing her in a hundred different ways and wasn’t sure what that meant. If she was the one who had requested assistance, then surely she was motivated to change. Yet the way she phrased the question...
“I can certainly teach you how to behave in formal occasions, whether social or political,” she began. “As for fixing you, I’m afraid that’s not my job. I want to make you feel comfortable so everyone can get to know who you really are.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Bianca said quickly. “They couldn’t handle the real me.”
“Then the you you want them to know.”
“What’s your background?”
Margot smiled. “I started in hotel management. I received training to work with our international clients and loved it. I was recruited by my current employer and have moved to helping people deal with our ever-shrinking world.”
“Hmm, yes, that’s fascinating, but what’s your background? Where are you from? Who raised you?”
A different question than “tell me about your parents.” It was almost as if Bianca knew there hadn’t been parents. “My maternal great-grandmother,” she said slowly. “She owned a beauty and charm school for nearly fifty years. She trained pageant contestants.”
“Were you in pageants?”
“No. I’m lacking certain skills.” Like the ability to speak to a group. Margot still remembered the first time Francine had made her get up on the mock stage they had in the workroom and address the group. She’d barely taken her place when she’d projectile vomited and promptly fainted. It had been a fairly quick end to any hopes her great-grandmother had had about Margot taking the crown.
Margot had forced herself to overcome her deficiency and could now give a decent lecture, but she would never be a natural up on stage. Not that she’d ever aspired to be a beauty queen. She just wanted to do her job and live her life. Oh, and not be dumb about men, because she’d already done that enough already.
“Alec picked you,” Bianca said. “He looked over all the people at your agency and he picked you. Now I see why.”
Did she? Margot hadn’t known he’d been the one to make the decision. Why her? She wasn’t an obvious choice, was she?
“Can you do it?” Bianca asked before Margot could question her statement. “Can you help me be who I need to be so I don’t embarrass Wesley?”
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
Margot leaned forward. “I will use every technique I have, and if those don’t work, I will create new ones. I will work tirelessly to get you to a place where you are comfortable in Wesley’s world.”
“That’s not a promise.”
“I know. I don’t make promises when I can’t be sure of the outcome.”
Bianca looked away. “I make promises all the time. I rarely keep them. It’s just that in the moment, I want the person to be happy.”
“And later?”
Bianca shrugged again. “They always forgive me. Even Alec.” The smile returned. “All right. Let’s do this. Alec thinks I need about two months of instruction. You’ll have to move in here. There are a few guest rooms upstairs. I have the big one and I’m sorry but I’m not moving out for you.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Margot looked at her potential client. “Bianca, I don’t live that far from here. I could easily drive over—”
“No. You have to stay here. It’ll be like we’re on location. Alec doesn’t care. He rarely looks up from his work to notice anything. The house is beautiful. You’ll love it and I’d feel better if you were close.”
Margot nodded slowly. She’d lived in before. She didn’t prefer it but when the client insisted, she agreed.
“As you wish. I’ll send over the contract as soon as I get back to the office. Once it’s signed and you’ve paid the retainer, I’ll be in touch to discuss a start date.”
“Monday!” Bianca sprang to her feet and raced around the table. She crouched in front of Margot, took both her hands and smiled. “We’ll start Monday. Oh, this is going to be fun. We’ll be best friends and have a wonderful time.”
Bianca rose and twirled, then ran to the house, her laughter trailing after her.
Margot watched her go. There was something, she thought, some secret driving Bianca. Margot wasn’t sure if she was running to something or away from it, but whatever it was, it was the key to the problem. Finding out what it was would be difficult, but she knew in her gut if she could figure out the mystery, she could teach Bianca what she needed to know and be gone in far less time than two months.
She glanced around at the beautiful gardens and the monastery’s worn, red-tiled roof and reminded herself that whatever she might have to deal with while helping Bianca, at least her living quarters were going to be extraordinary. Perhaps, if she were lucky, she might even run into a ghost monk or two.
Chapter Two
Sunshine Baxter was done with love at first sight. D. O. N. E. More times than she could count, she’d looked deeply into a pair of—insert any color here—eyes and immediately given her heart. The relationships had all ended in disaster and she’d hated herself for being so incredibly stupid over and over again, so she decided she was finished with the falling in love concept. Over it. Moving on.
Except...
“I’ve decided,” Connor said, pushing up his glasses, his dark brown eyes staring intently into hers.
Sunshine leaned close, knowing that once again she’d foolishly fallen for an inappropriate guy. “Tell me.”
“Ants.”
Sunshine smiled. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ve read three books on ants and they’re very smart and they work hard. I want to build the world’s biggest ant farm.”
“Okay, then. That’s what we’ll do. We should probably start small,” she told him. “Get a regular-size ant farm and see if we can make it work. Then we’ll add on.”
His mouth began to curve in the most delightful smile. “I thought girls didn’t like ants.”
“I don’t want them crawling in my bed, but I think an ant farm is super cool.”
The smile fully blossomed. Connor ran toward her. She pulled the eight-year-old close and hugged him, telling herself if adoring her new charge qualified as breaking her no-heart-giving rule, then she was willing to live with the disappointment. Connor was irresistible.
He released her and stepped back, nearly slipping off the path and into a tall, aggressive-looking succulent that no doubt had an impressively long Latin name. Sunshine shifted her weight, gently grabbed his arm and spun him out of the way of impalement. Connor barely noticed.
“You’re going to tell me that you have to ask my dad, huh?”
“I am. We’re talking about being responsible for several hundred life-forms. That’s a big deal.”
“You’re right.” He paused, then giggled. “Can I be their king?”
“Of course. Maybe we can teach them to chant ‘All hail Connor.’”
Connor laughed. The desert garden section at The Huntington’s acres of gardens was his favorite. Given that Connor’s father was a landscape architect, Connor and Sunshine both had memberships and in her three weeks of employment as Connor’s nanny, they’d been four times. So far all they’d visited was the desert garden, but she was okay with that. Eventually Connor’s interests would broaden.
He squatted in front of a reddish plant apparently called terrestrial bromeliad and studied it.
“You start school on Monday,” he said.
Something Sunshine didn’t want to think about. Part of her plan to avoid bad relationships and shift her life onto a happier and more positive course meant going to college. Not back so much, as that implied she’d been at one in the first place.
“I do.”
He glanced at her. “Are you scared?”
“I am. Well, maybe scared is strong. I’m nervous.”
“Do you think all the other kids will be smarter than you?”
She grinned. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but yes, in part. And they’ll be younger.”
He stood up. “As young as me?”
“I think a little older, but certainly not my age.”
She was thirty-one and had absolutely nothing noteworthy to show for her years on the planet. How sad was that?
Connor took her hand. “You don’t have to be scared. You’re smart, too, and we can do homework together.”
She touched his nose. “You’re in third grade. You don’t have much homework.”
“I’ll sit with you and read about ants.”
And this, she thought with a sigh, was why he’d won her heart. Connor was a good kid. He was funny and kind and affectionate. He’d lost his mother to cancer a few months ago and while his father obviously cared about his son, he had a big, impressive job that took a lot of time. Declan had hired a series of nannies, all of whom Connor had rejected within a week. For some reason, the two of them had clicked.
“Come on,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “Let’s head home. I’m going to make lasagna roll-ups for dinner.”
“What’s a roll-up?”
“It’s all the lasagna goodness rolled up in a noodle.”
His gaze was skeptical. “You’re going to put vegetables in the recipe, aren’t you?”
She grinned. “Yes. Zucchini. Skinny little zucchini French fries.”
“How skinny?”
She thought for a second. “Ant size.”
He sighed. “Okay, but I won’t like it.”
“As long as you eat it.”
An hour and a half later, Sunshine put a completed salad into the refrigerator and glanced at the clock. According to a text from Declan, he was planning on joining them for dinner. She’d set the table for three, but honestly, she wasn’t holding out much hope. Her boss was in the middle of a big project—something about designing the gardens of a new five-star hotel just north of Malibu. Not only was the job time consuming, there was actually no good way to get to Pasadena from anywhere by the beach without dealing with miles of gridlock and hours stuck in traffic. More than once he’d texted to say he would be home in time for dinner only to call her an hour later to say he was still on the freeway and to start without him.
Sunshine didn’t mind when it was just her and Connor, but she knew the boy missed his father when he wasn’t around.
Once he got home, Declan spent the rest of the evening with his son and he was the one to get Connor ready for bed. They were obviously close, which was good. Still, the whole situation remained slightly awkward for her. Normally by the three-week mark of a job, she was comfortable in the house and had a set routine. She and Connor were doing great, but she’d barely seen Declan and they hadn’t talked and she really had to tell him they should have a sit-down at some point. Maybe in the next couple of days.
The first weekend she’d been employed, Declan and Connor had gone to Sacramento to visit Declan’s parents. Last weekend, Declan had been out of town at a conference and this weekend she had no idea what was going on.
“Do you and your dad have plans for tomorrow?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. If he’s busy, what do you want to do?”
“I thought we’d go to the Star Eco Station.”
Connor finished putting the flatware in place. “Do I have to hold the tarantula?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“Arachnids aren’t ants,” he said, his tone defensive.
She held up both hands. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m perfectly fine with an ant farm but if you told me you wanted to start a spider colony, I’d run screaming into the night.”
He grinned. “In your pajamas?”
“Very possibly.”
His laughter was interrupted by the sound of the garage door opening.
“Dad’s home! Dad’s home!”
She watched him race across the kitchen and through the mudroom, then looked back at the table. Looked like there would be three for dinner and wouldn’t that be fun.
Not that she was nervous. She wasn’t. It was just she barely knew Declan. Which was fine—tonight they would have a conversation over lasagna roll-ups with ant-sized zucchini.
“...and Sunshine’s going to help me with the ant farm. We’re going to check online tomorrow and it’s okay because I read three books and I’ve checked out two more from the library and I’ll read them this weekend so I’m gonna know everything.”
Based on the framed photographs she’d seen in Connor’s room, Sunshine knew he took after his mother. He was small for his age, with a slight build and dark hair and eyes, so every time she saw Declan, it was something of a shock.
The man was big. Not heavy, but tall with broad shoulders and a lot of muscles. He had sandy-colored hair and green eyes, had to be at least six-two. With her only being five-four, that seemed a little extreme. He wore a suit and tie most days, which somehow made him even more impressive. He also had a presence about him—he was someone who was noticed wherever he went. She didn’t know him well enough to have much of an opinion about him, but he seemed like a decent kind of guy. He loved his son and honestly that was all she cared about.
“Good evening, Mr. Dubois,” she murmured as he set down his briefcase, then swept Connor up in his arms and turned the boy upside down.
As his son hung there, shrieking with happy laughter, Declan met her gaze. “We talked about this, Sunshine. Call me Declan, please.”
“Okay, just checking.”
“I want to keep things casual.”
She liked casual. Now that she thought about it, casual was probably for the best considering she’d kicked off her shoes when she’d walked into the house and was currently standing barefoot, wearing jeans and an oversize T-shirt advertising a bar in Tahiti.
Declan turned Connor right side up, then glanced at the table. “That looks nice. What are we having?”
“Ant food!” Connor told him gleefully. “Zucchini ant sticks.”
“Really?”
“Salad, lasagna roll-ups, garlic knots and zucchini fries,” she corrected.
“The garlic knots are bread,” Connor told his father. “I tied them all myself.”
“Did you?” Declan ruffled his hair. “That’s great. Give me five minutes to get changed and I’ll be back to help.” He picked up his briefcase and started for the hallway, his son at his heels. “Sunshine, do you drink wine?”
“Only on days ending in Y.”
“Good. Why don’t you pick us out a bottle of red from the wine cellar? You know where it is?”
“I do.”
Except for Declan’s bedroom, she’d explored the house that first weekend. She knew every place an eight-year-old boy could hide and had moved a bucket full of different bottles of cleaning solutions out to the garage. Yes, Connor was old enough to know not to play with stuff like that, but why tempt fate?
The house was typical for the neighborhood. Built in the 1920s with a strong Spanish influence, the structure was a U shape with a patio at the center. Just past the kitchen was the mudroom. Beyond that was a family room and then her en suite bedroom. Behind the attached garage was a large workout room she really had to start using.
Exiting the kitchen in the opposite direction led to a formal dining room, a formal living room, then the hallway curved. Declan had an office, then Connor’s room was next, then the master.
The rooms were oversize, the beams in the ceiling original and the garden was something out of a fantasy. Sunshine didn’t know much about plants, but she knew enough to keep her window open so she could smell the night-blooming jasmine just outside.
She walked toward the mudroom, stopping at the walk-in pantry. On the far wall was a wine cellar with glass doors. She figured it must hold at least four hundred bottles of wine, grouped together by type. She pulled out racks, searching for a relatively inexpensive red blend. Dinner was casual and the wine should be, too.
She found a foil cutter and bottle opener in one of the drawers in the pantry and carried the open bottle and two wineglasses back into the kitchen, then opened a bottle of sparkling nonalcoholic apple cider for Connor. If they were going to get fancy, it was nice to share.
While Declan got Connor settled, Sunshine dropped the hot rolls into a large bowl then tossed them with melted butter and garlic. The salad was already in place, as were the plates. She gave Connor and Declan each a roll before putting the extras on the table and taking her chair.
The kitchen table seated six. The three of them were clustered at one end, with her across from Connor. Without thinking, she put salad on his plate, only to realize that might be something his father wanted to do.
“Oh, um, sorry. Did you want to...”
“Go ahead,” Declan said easily, pouring them wine.
She nodded, then waited for him to serve himself before taking the bowl from him and putting salad on her own plate. When she was done, she reached for her glass of wine just as Declan started to hand it to her. They bumped and the glass nearly spilled.
Sunshine felt herself flushing. Great. Just great. The awkward first days were supposed to be over by now. Living in someone’s home, and being an almost-but-not-quite part of the family wasn’t an easy transition.
Declan shook his head. “We have to work on our dinner skills,” he said, his voice teasing.
“Apparently.”
“The last few weeks have been hectic with my work schedule and we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other. If you don’t have plans, why don’t you join me in my study after Connor goes to bed and we’ll talk about how things are going so far.”
“That would be nice,” she said. “Thank you.”
Connor held up his glass of cider. “I want to make a toast.”
“Do you?” Declan raised his wineglass. “What is it?”
Sunshine picked up her glass and waited. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the statesmanlike moment Declan seemed to expecting.
Connor grinned. “And jelly.”
“Toast and jelly,” Declan murmured, before taking a sip of his wine. “I couldn’t be more proud.”
Connor giggled. Sunshine winked at him.
“We went to The Huntington after school today,” she said, picking up her fork. “To the desert garden.”
“My favorite!” Connor announced.
“One day I’ll get to see one of the other gardens. At least I hope so.”
Connor raised his shoulders in an exaggerated sigh. “In two more times. I promise.”
“Yay! And thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned to his father. “How’s the hotel?”
“Good. The building approval has been finalized, so I can get to work on designing the gardens.” He looked at Sunshine. “The decisions about the materials they’re using will influence what I suggest.”
“Sure. You wouldn’t want the flowers to clash with the siding.”
“Exactly. Connor, how was school?”
“Good. I got an A on my spelling test. We studied really hard.”
“The lesson combined spelling words with different kinds of currency,” Sunshine added. “Euro, yen, ruble, the word currency.”
“That one’s hard,” Connor said as he finished his salad. “And ruble is like rubble but only one b.”
“I’d heard that,” Declan told him. “Good for you.”
Sunshine had just stood to collect the salad plates when Connor piped up with, “Sunshine starts school on Monday and she’s scared.”
“Yes, well, no one’s interested in that,” she murmured, walking into the kitchen and pulling the lasagna roll-ups out of the oven.
“You’re going back to college?” Declan asked.
“Back would be a misstatement, but yes.” She slid the steaming pasta onto plates and carried them to the table. “I’m at Pasadena City College, studying toward a degree in child psychology. I’m starting with my general education classes.”
“Good for you.”
“Thanks.”
Once she was seated, she sipped her wine and told herself she didn’t care what her boss thought of her lack of education. Just because he had an advanced degree and a fancy job and a house and a kid and his life was totally together didn’t matter to her.