And gamble she had, just not with money.
She’d been “discovered” one night when she went out dancing with some fellow students from community college. A talent coordinator from The Grand Illusion casino had given her his business card, inviting her to an audition.
At first, she’d denied him, thinking that her waitress job would hold her. Then her mom had started to write her, asking for loans, and in spite of how Melanie had wanted to escape Oklahoma, she couldn’t say no to helping out the family.
And that’s when she’d decided to audition. The Grand Illusion had a small, fairly cheesy revue that was half bawdy magic and half sexy musical, although nothing distasteful. Heck, no one even took off their sequined tops. She told herself she probably wouldn’t make it anyway. Yet, much to her surprise, she’d breezed through the process, with them offering her a modest wage and, more importantly, the promise of open days during which she could keep going to school and wait a few tables.
It was an ideal setup, and it wasn’t as if she was doing any exotic dancing. Just as soon as she had her degree, she’d be done with it anyway.
When she had the degree under her belt, she quit dancing, just as she’d promised herself, and she’d signed on for her first nanny job, thanks to a glowing recommendation from her advisor to his personal friend.
Her employer had been an affluent single mom, a prominent business developer who was in dire need of a helper; and it’d been the perfect job for years, until Melanie’s boss got married and decided to become a stay-at-home mother.
And that’s how Melanie had come to Dallas at the age of twenty-eight—because her first employer had worked with Zane Foley on the development of a Vegas mega apartment-village complex, and when the businesswoman heard that his latest nanny had quit and he needed to hire another one pronto, she’d given him Melanie’s name.
He nudged the dossier away from him and, for a heavy moment, Melanie wondered if Zane Foley, a man who seemed to cover every base, had dug deep enough into her life to expose her crowded double-wide-trailer beginnings and dancing days.
Was he going to spring it on her now?
“As you’ve heard from Andrea Sandoval,” he finally said, referring to Melanie’s first nanny employer, “I’m eager to get someone in place to care for my daughter. And you almost seem too good to be true, Ms. Grandy, dropping into my lap like this.”
She felt heat creeping over her face, mainly because she could just imagine what it might be like to drop into his lap—Lord have mercy—yet also because she didn’t want to panic at what he might’ve uncovered.
“No one’s perfect, Mr. Foley,” she said, hoping he would agree.
He didn’t, so she kept talking, seeing if she could maybe use a little flattery as backup.
“Although,” she said, “your family seems to come close enough to perfect as it gets.”
He remained distant, over on his side of the table. “We’re hardly perfect.”
“Then you should tell your PR people to stop selling that image,” she said lightly. “The media seems to think that the Foleys are the epitome of what’s good about our country.”
His tone grew taut. “You’ve been looking into my family, have you?”
How could she deny it? News about the business doings of the Foleys, whose holdings had started from a few oil rigs to an empire based on prime real estate and media interests, was legion. Then there were all their charitable causes, behind-the-scenes political power plays and even the social adventures of Zane’s brother, Jason. Hard to ignore, when the media—and the nation—was fascinated with them, even if Zane, himself, tended to avoid the limelight.
“I only did my research,” she said, “because I need to make sure you’re the right family for me, just as you’re making sure I’m right for you.”
Her smile returned full force, but not because she was trying to win him over this time. She was remembering the freckled nose and doe eyes of his daughter. There’d only been a short introduction, yet it’d been enough to convince Melanie that she didn’t belong anywhere else in this world. Something about Olivia had profoundly tugged at Melanie, maybe because the girl reminded her of herself—a little lost and isolated.
Zane Foley didn’t return her smile. In fact, he seemed intent on avoiding it, while the sun from outside shifted enough to slant a patch of red from the stained glass over the strong angles of his face.
Her chest went tight.
“I like your optimism,” he said. “You’d need quite a bit of it with Livie, you know. As I pointed out during our first interview, she’s gone through five nannies in six years.”
“I remember.” Her former employer had already cautioned Melanie. After Olivia’s mom had passed away, the girl had rejected everyone she perceived to be taking her mom’s place.
Melanie had known from the start that this wouldn’t be an easy job; but she wanted to make a difference in the girl’s life, because she sure wished someone had made a difference earlier in her own.
“My daughter’s a handful,” he said. “I’ll make no bones about that.”
“I’ve got more perseverance than you can imagine.”
“Your predecessors thought they had it, too. And on their way out the door, most of them even told me that I ought to think about applying some of that perseverance I show in my own business to my household.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Just to give you fair warning, I don’t employ nannies to get advice from them.”
Melanie kept eye contact, thinking that there was a chink in the steeliness of his gaze—a darkness that showed more than just that notorious arrogance.
“Mr. Foley,” she said softly, “I’d never presume to judge anyone.”
He stared at her a beat longer, then sat back in his chair again, even though he didn’t let up with his gaze. It held her, screwed into her, until a slight thrill traveled her veins.
“The family businesses are important to me,” he said. “Among other things, they’re Livie’s legacy, and I intend to give her a great one. As an only child, she’ll take over all of my share one day, the oil holdings, as well as real-estate interests.”
He said it as if he planned to never get married or have children again. In some weird way, that got to Melanie.
But…jeez. Like she should even be mulling over his most intimate decisions.
“I’m sure your daughter will be grateful for everything you do,” she said.
“You should also know that I spend a lot of time defending our investments, not just building them up. That’s what takes up the majority of my schedule, and the work’s too important for me to spend as much time in Austin with Livie as most people expect.”
“Right,” she said, figuring she would show him just how much research she’d done. “I read that you have to defend against people like the McCords.”
His mouth tightened once more, this time at the name of the family who’d been taking part in a well-known feud with the Foleys for generations.
Oops. She made a mental note never to mention them again.
Zane Foley seemed eager to be rid of the subject. “The bottom line is this—my commitments require a lot of me, and that’s why I need someone to depend on for Livie. Someone who’s more or less my proxy, enforcing my rules and raising her the way I need her to be raised.”
She chafed at his authoritarian tone. What was his daughter to him—another project to develop, like the ones he oversaw in his office?
But Olivia—Livie—was a little girl, and—from what Melanie