Hopefully, he thought after rapidly taking care of money matters and boarding the Up escalator, this shopping trip and makeover would improve Melanie’s mood. If so, he would look forward to getting back to the townhouse with a more chipper nanny, then prepare to say goodbye to her and his daughter in the morning.
A niggle got to him, but he didn’t pay any mind to it.
Yup, they’d be gone tomorrow, and life would go back to normal.
He came to the personal shopper’s boutique, where Melanie had evidently gone to put on one of her new outfits with the sales associate’s encouragement. When he got there, a few women were in front of the mirror, flittering about and doing what women often did over new clothes.
Zane had just opened his mouth to ask if his employee was set to leave when the women parted to reveal the nanny in the midst of them.
The words lodged in his chest, then began pumping like a conflicting heartbeat.
Melanie?
Her blond hair was swept back into a graceful chignon, which complemented the slim lines of a short jacket and long cigarette skirt worthy of Jackie O. Her makeup was elegant, bringing out the breathtaking blue of her eyes and the lovely heart shape of her face.
She fit the role of a princess, not a nanny, and for a taboo instant, he envisioned her on his arm at a charity event, shining like the brightest of stars.
Seconds must’ve passed. Maybe even minutes. And during each escalating heartbeat, he kept himself from saying something he would regret to this new woman, even if, under the makeup and clothing, she was still the same lady who’d hooked his attention that first day.
She just had an extra sparkle in her eyes, and that was what took his breath away.
She was staring right back at him with something that resembled hope as she folded her hands in front of her—a nervous gesture he was just starting to recognize.
Melanie, he thought. Not “the nanny.”
Not now.
“You…” He trailed off.
Surely he could find a comment somewhere in his brain. Any comment. Zane Foley was the last man on earth who should’ve been searching for words.
A couple of the sales associates laughed softly, and heat crept up Zane’s neck.
He pushed his hands into his suit pockets as he addressed his employee. “Looks as if you’re ready.”
His back-to-business tone seemed to bring Melanie—no, it had to remain “the nanny”—back to reality, too. But as she nodded at him, then thanked the women around her, he could tell that she’d lost the glimmer that had made her more beautiful than ever, and he hated that he’d done this to her.
But what was new?
He turned to leave, getting the hell out of there, and she caught up just as they were crossing the marble floors and coming to the baby grand piano near the escalators. The musician was playing that song from Casablanca.
He hoped she didn’t notice.
“But,” she said, “I didn’t tip them yet.”
“It’s taken care of.”
Without looking at her, he motioned for her to climb aboard the Down escalator before him.
Cold, he thought. Didn’t he have it within himself to be more than that?
She got on the conveyance, turning around to face him while holding the moving handrail. “But shouldn’t I—?”
“It was my treat. Besides, I know the owners and my credit’s good with them.”
“Oh.” She patted the side of her hairdo, as if not knowing what else to do. “Of course you know them. You probably know every top tax-bracket entrepreneur in the country.”
“I know them because I helped develop this center, among others that Westenra’s also uses.”
At the news, she went silent, as if he’d intentionally reminded her of his station in life and hers—and the chasm between them.
But he hadn’t meant to.
Even so, the sudden space between them bothered Zane. God knew why, because it wasn’t as if they would ever be close.
They got off the escalator and moved through the men’s shoe department toward the exit where Monty would be waiting. Zane couldn’t help noticing that the suit-and-tie salesmen were watching Melanie Grandy, and he wanted to take her arm and link it through his in a show of…
He stopped himself before he used the word “possession.”
Not him. Not for her.
Nevertheless, he didn’t appreciate the staring, so he shot the men subtle back-off looks, while approaching the doors to the valet and pickup area.
When they got out there, Monty hadn’t yet arrived, and Zane guessed it was because Livie was probably going through her new purchases and making it nearly impossible for the softhearted driver to get the packages in the trunk.
He would give them three more minutes before calling.
As they waited, a couple of valets were giving Melanie the eye, just as the guys inside had been doing. With one extra long look at them, Zane persuaded the boys to go back to being valets instead of slobbering dogs.
Melanie didn’t seem to notice any of it. She stood there, face forward, the silence deafening.
Luckily, she broke it.
“And how did Toys ‘R’ Us go with Livie?” she asked.
In spite of himself, a smile captured his mouth, and when it stayed, it surprised him a little. “She was really excited. They had a Ferris wheel in the middle of the store. We went on that thing three times.”
“Good.” A smile broke out over her face, too.
My, wasn’t she content about her schemes to get father and daughter together?
Her happiness would end soon enough when she realized that tonight wasn’t going anywhere beyond this.
He shifted under the weight of the thought—and under the heft of the tension that remained between them.
But she still seemed to be in a positive mood. She even laughed a bit, yet it sounded more self-aware than anything.
“What is it?” he asked.
She gestured to her dress, her face and hair. “This whole night. Me getting made over at your pleasure.”
He almost coughed.
She caught herself. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” Sighing, she shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with…Well, I heard that you make sure all the Foley nannies have looked good to one extent or another.”
What was this about? “Meaning…?” he asked.
“Rumor has it that in the past most nannies were easy on the eye.”
That heat began its slow crawl up his skin again, from his neck to his face. “And who told you this?”
“You’re not confirming or denying my comment.”
He knew she wouldn’t give up her source, and even though that got to him, he also had to respect her loyalty. It was a decent quality for anyone to have. Besides, if he really cared about the mild gossip that much, he could narrow it down to one of a few other employees with whom she had regular contact.
“Pretty