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The Nanny Rules
by Melynda Price

Copyright © 2019 by Melynda Price. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

Amelia

“Who the hell are you?”

I startle at the demand and spin around to find a man standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of low-riding gym shorts and a surprised scowl. The glass of orange juice slips from my hand and shatters on the floor. Words fail me as I stand there in my pajamas, braless in a tank top and turtle-patterned shorts. This is not how I envisioned meeting my new boss. “I’m your—”

“Daddy?” The shrill squeal and patter of tiny feet cuts off my feeble explanation.

“—nanny,” I finish, not sure if he heard me. But then his gaze cuts from Lily and then back to me. Yep, he heard.

Muttering a curse under his breath, he steps through the juice, navigating the broken glass, and swoops up his daughter as she races around the island. “Lily pad.” As soon as he catches sight of his little girl, a dimple-flashing grin of genuine joy lights his face, and he places a lip-smacking kiss on her cheek.

My ovaries swoon. Fact—there’s nothing sexier than a tattooed, muscle-bound man fawning over his child. My biological clock ticks to the cadence of my quickened pulse. The heat pooling low in my belly is an unexpected sensation.

Mercy, Brody Evans is even larger and more handsome in person than he is on TV.

“I didn’t hire a nanny,” he says over Lily’s squealing laughter as he pretends to munch on the side of her neck.

“No, your sister did,” I tell him tartly, unsure which is more annoying, his dismissive tone or my feminine reaction to watching him play with his daughter. It’s beautiful, and I can’t stop staring at all that hard, muscled flesh blatantly on display. “I wasn’t expecting you back until this afternoon.”

Brody shifts Lily into one arm and props her on his hip. The action nudges those low-riding shorts a skosh lower. My breath catches as I anticipate gravity doing its thing, unsure if I should warn him, but then he pins me with a scowl.

“Obviously.” His tone is ripe with disapproval as he drags those vibrant sapphire eyes over me in a slow, head-to-toe perusal, taking in my scant attire, and his brows tighten. “I caught an early flight home.”

My skin heats everywhere his gaze touches. And to my displeasure, my body tingles in response to his dispassionate stare, nipples straining against my thread-bare tank top. This is embarrassing. No, it’s beyond embarrassing—this is humiliating. My reprieve comes when Lily’s little hands clap her father’s cheeks, and she turns his head toward her, commanding his attention.

“I missed you, Daddy.”

“Well, that’s good. Because I missed you, too.” He gives her a quick kiss on the tip of her pixie nose, eliciting another giggle, then turns toward the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” My condolences roll off my tongue before I can call them back, and his broad shoulders briefly tense. He sets Lily on the chair with instructions to finish her breakfast, then turns and walks out of the kitchen. And there I am, left standing barefoot amidst a pool of orange juice and broken glass. Well, shit. Brody’s sister warned me the NFL quarterback might be…challenging to work for. He’s been through a lot this last year, and she told me the press hasn’t been kind to him.

He might not want me here, but that’s okay. I have thick skin and he needs me.

Besides, I’m here for Lily.

Sighing, I grab a dish towel off the counter and stoop to collect the broken glass, when Brody returns. The only addition he’s made to his apparel is running shoes. I drag my wandering gaze away from his goody trail as bits of glass crunch under his feet. Saying nothing, he grips my waist and effortlessly plucks me out of the mess, plopping me onto the counter. His fingers accidentally slip beneath the hem of my tank top, and an unexpected rush of heat blooms in my cheeks and between my legs. Shame is a sobering chaser to my unexpected arousal. This man has lost his wife for crissake. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I can do that,” I offer from my perch as he opens the pantry door and retrieves a broom and dustpan. Ignoring me, he proceeds to sweep up the wet, glassy mess, the muscles in his broad shoulders rolling and flexing as he focuses on his task.

“I’ve got it,” he grumbles, making his way toward me. There’s a brief pause before he speaks again. “Look, lady, I don’t want to sound like a dick here, but I don’t know you. I get that Julia was trying to help when she hired you, but I don’t think this is a good idea. Lily’s in a vulnerable place right now and—”

Lady? Did he just lady me? Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise a challenging brow. “Look at my resume before you decide you don’t want to hire me,” I cut in.

He pauses in the cleanup and shoots me a look that says he’s not used to being interrupted or anyone second-guessing his decisions. Who does he think has been taking care of Lily for the last week while he was at training camp? Who’s been drying her tears when she cries for her mother and asks why she isn’t coming home, because she’s not old enough to comprehend the finality of death? I’m not leaving Lily. Not without a fight.

Before I can tell him as much, a glimpse of bouncing blonde curls catches my eye. “Lily, stop!” I hop off the counter and sharp pain slices into my foot. I yelp, hobbling another few steps forward, and grab her before she runs through the mess.

“Lily, I told you to stay in the chair.” Brody’s tone is weighted in worry rather than anger, but Lily doesn’t recognize the difference. Tears instantly fill her big blue eyes, the exact color of her father’s.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles. “But it was taking so long, and I wanted to play.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to do what you’re told.” He walks over and plucks Lily out of my arms. “There’s broken glass all over here. And now—” He pauses and shoots me a questioning look, as if waiting for me to finish his sentence. When I don’t respond, he asks, “What’s your name?”

I guess I haven’t introduced myself. Not that I’ve had much of an opportunity. “Amelia…”

“Now Amelia has glass in her foot.”

“I’m sorry, Mia,” Lily cries as Brody carries her out of the kitchen.

“It’s okay, I’m fine. Go upstairs and play. I’ll be up in a little bit, and we’ll read a story.” I heel-walk to the bathroom, click on the light, and sit on the toilet seat. The shard sticking out of my foot sends a wave of dizziness rolling through me.

Typically, I’m not a fainter, but I’ve never handled the sight of my blood well. Closing my eyes, I tip my head back and take a few deep breaths. I’ll be damned if I’m going to pass out on the toilet. I need to make a good impression on my boss, and so far, it hasn’t gone awesome. I’m still in my freaking pajamas.

When the lightheadedness passes, I open my eyes to find Brody filling the doorway.

How long has he been standing there watching me?

“You okay in here?”

“Yep, just great,” I lie. How am I going to get this out without fainting?

“You’re pale.”

“I lived in Minnesota. We’re all pale,” I quip. Hopefully he’ll leave before I do anything else to embarrass myself.

He chuckles, and the corner of his mouth twitches. That’s the first hint I’ve seen that Brody has a sense of humor. He enters—uninvited—and I swear the room shrinks.

“Hop up on the counter and I’ll take a look.”

As much as I want to tough it out, I need help. I maneuver onto the vanity and Brody wastes no time grabbing my ankle and angling my foot in the air. His grip is firm and no-nonsense. Tingling heat races up my thigh like an electrical jolt that unexpectedly arrows between my legs. Startled, I jump, and his gaze darts to mine.

He gives me an arched-brow look that says, Seriously? This can’t hurt, I barely touched you.

But it’s not pain that has my heart pounding and my nerve endings on fire. He lifts my leg higher, tipping me off-balance. My arms shoot out behind me to brace against the cool granite, stretching my top tight across my chest. His eyes shift to mine, checking to make sure I’m all right, but his pupils dilate when they land on my breasts. It’s the briefest hesitation, and if I’d blinked, I would have missed it.

“You okay?”

There’s concern in his rough, husky voice as his wandering gaze strays up my leg.

“Just pull it out.”

His eyes dart back to mine, sheepishly checking to see if I noticed his visual slip. I give him a pass because this whole situation is embarrassing enough.

I can’t believe NFL star Brody Evans is touching my leg. Albeit, to extract a piece of glass from my foot, but my hormones aren’t particularly picky on the details. Nor, apparently, did they get the memo about him being my boss, because my pulse is racing, and I’m about to break a— “Ouch!”

I shoot him a scowl but then he holds up the shard between his thumb and forefinger. “Sorry. Sometimes it’s better not to know when it’s coming.”

He blindsided me.

“The cut doesn’t look too bad.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a tube of ointment. After smearing some on the bottom of my foot, he slips on a Band-aid with the practiced ease of a father who’s bandaged his fair share of skinned knees.

“Thanks.” I’m ready to put some much-needed distance between myself and my boss. But he doesn’t move, and I get the sense there’s something more he wants to say, so I wait him out.

After a moment, he lets out a sigh that sounds a lot like defeat and says, “I’ll read your resume.”

Before I can respond, he’s out the door, and I’m left feeling like my world has been turned upside-down.