My heart lurched in my chest and the knots in my stomach constricted so hard, I was half-afraid I was going to throw up on his well-polished shoes. As if intuiting what was going through my head, Spencer laughed and shook his head.
“I meant with Lola,” he said. “You taking care of her when she was having her night terrors. She seemed to calm down with you. I just – I just wanted to say thank you. I appreciate it.”
The heat flared in my cheeks instantly and I felt stupid for assuming he was talking about what happened between us.
“You're welcome,” I said sheepishly. “I was just doing my job though. That's why you pay me the big bucks, right?”
He laughed heartily and nodded, which made me feel better instantly. The air of tension and awkwardness that had enveloped us dissipated – it felt like the sun breaking through the clouds after a particularly intense storm.
“That's right,” he says.
Our eyes locked for a long moment and that feeling of tension and expectation returned. My body was responding to his gaze – my heart was stuttering, I felt butterfly wings brushing at my insides, and I felt that familiar heat ignite between my thighs. I knew if I stood there staring into his eyes much longer, I risked losing myself in them – and risked having to go and change my panties.
Thankfully, a knock at the door broke the spell he'd cast over me and the moment passed. Spencer looked down at his watch and grumbled.
“He's early,” he said.
“Who's early?”
“Charles,” he said. “My business partner.”
Emilia's feet sounded on the floor behind us and Spencer turned to her, giving the older woman a smile.
“It's okay, Emilia,” he said. “I've got it. But, thank you.”
It was something small and probably inconsequential – something most people probably wouldn't even notice or consider – but the way he treated his staff never failed to warm my heart. He was so good to the people who worked for him and it impressed me. I figured that most rich businessmen were used to having people do everything for them – even open a door when they were standing ten feet from it.
I'd long believed that the way people treated those people beneath them was a true indicator of who they really were. People who treated waiters or others in the service industry like garbage, were often garbage people themselves.
Spencer was different. Much, much different.
He turned and crossed the foyer to the front door, opening it up to reveal an incredibly attractive man. Six-feet-tall, blonde, blue eyed, and obviously very fit. He had broad shoulders, had hair that was perfectly styled, flawless skin, a strong jawline, and in a very well-tailored, dark designer suit with an electric blue tie, he was impeccably dressed.
“Spencer,” the man said, his voice colored with a strong French accent that was like honey to my ears. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”
The man stepped forward and pulled Spencer into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on both of his cheeks. Spencer looked a little bit uncomfortable, but I gave him credit for just rolling with it. The man eventually let Spencer go and stepped back, a wide smile on his face – and that's when his eyes fell upon me and his thousand-watt smile got even brighter.
“And who is this?” he asked.
Spencer turned and gave me a warm smile. “This is Avery,” he said. “She's Lola and Maisie's nanny. Avery, this is my partner, Charles Deschamps the Third.”
“Avery,” he said. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
He closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, and took my hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it, and sending an electric charge running through my body. My cheeks were burning, and I was sure, were an unnatural shade of red.
When I looked up, a dark sha
dow crossed Spencer's features as he watched Charles kissing my hand, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Maybe I'd imagined it. Charles stood up and said something in French, then looked stricken, and started to apologize. I cut him off by replying in French, which made his eyes widen and a hearty laugh escape his lips.
“Your French is flawless,” he said. “Amazing. You are, as you Americans say, quite obviously, much more than just a pretty face.”
“I hired her specifically to teach my girls how to speak French,” Spencer said. “If we're going to be living here, I want them to be able to communicate.”
“Wonderful idea,” Charles said. “Very good, Spencer. Very good.”
Charles' eyes roamed my body, looking me up and down. I could tell that he was undressing me with his eyes and was very much liking what he saw. He wasn't even trying to be subtle about it. My cheeks flared with heat again and I had to stifle the giggle that bubbled up in my throat. Spencer smacked him playfully on the back of the head and laughed.
“You'll have to forgive Charles,” he said. “He's a bit of a playboy and lacks some social graces.”