Windy City Romance: Boxed Set: Prequel - Book III Read online

  She bristled. “That’s why he got such a top job in Hollywood, right? While I have only been able to nail down waitressing jobs…and, oh yes, my latest babysitting gig.”

  “Quit slamming yourself.” Adam’s carefully groomed eyebrows drew together as he took the stool across from her. “I would hardly call a nanny position in a historic mansion a ‘babysitting gig.’ Especially for Cameron Bennett.”

  Her ears perked up. “What do you know about him?”

  “The Internet is a wonderful thing.”

  “Spill.”

  Adam could have the most annoying Cheshire grin. “Boy wonder. Restoration genius. The city worships at his feet. Even volunteers for Habitat for Humanity. Widower. One daughter.” He dropped information on the table like warm toast. “What’s the little girl like?”

  “Mad at the world.”

  “If you lost your mother, maybe you’d be mad too.”

  “Probably.” Outside, the finches were in a feeding frenzy, nudging each other off the posts of Adam’s birdfeeder. “Her father doesn’t seem to have much time for her.”

  “Not a surprise since he’s now half of a power couple.” When Adam wiggled his eyebrows like that, he had a tasty tidbit. “According to the news, he’s dating Kimmy Carrington.”

  “I’ve heard the name. Why is it familiar?”

  Leaning over the table, Adams said a dramatic whisper, “Kimmy in the Morning.”

  Surprise nearly toppled Harper from her perch. “No way. That Kimmy?” Hard to picture Cameron with the TV pop psychologist. When Harper lived in the dorm, the girls would all mock Kimmy while they got ready for class. Kimmy dished out mind pills that were laughable.

  “You’ve got it. Master of the obvious. Solving the world’s problems, one trivial suggestion at a time.”

  “But beautiful.” Harper fingered her damp curls. As she recalled, Kimmy’s hair fell to her shoulders in a sleek blonde wave. She didn’t like picturing Cameron with Kimmy.

  “So, how’s he turning out as your boss?”

  What could she say about Cameron? Even though Adam was a close friend, she didn’t want to admit that she’d made a major mistake with Cameron’s former in-laws that week. Instead, she told him about the family dinners she’d scheduled.

  “How’s that going over?”

  “I’m not sure. It turned into more of a question and answer period. I felt like I had to explain myself.”

  Adam’s lips curved. “Maybe he wants to learn more about you.”

  “I doubt it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, he’s old.”

  “What? Late twenties according to Wikipedia.”

  “Wow. Really?” The world shifted. “I just don’t think of him that way.”

  “Kimmy does.” Adam laughed. “Have you met her yet?”

  “Sunday. She’s coming for dinner.”

  “Hmm. I’ll have to catch up with you next week. Get all the delicious details.”

  Acid churned in Harper’s stomach.

  Delicious? She sure hoped so.

  Chapter 8

  At four o’clock Sunday, Harper stood in the kitchen, staring at the crockpot in the refrigerator. What had Connie told her? And where was the note? Maybe it got thrown out with the newspaper. Mousse stood in crystal cups, so dessert was taken care of. The rest of the meal—total puzzle. She pulled out the drawer of the crisper. Right. Brussel sprouts.

  Although she thought Bella was upstairs with Cameron, suddenly the toddler appeared, pulling at her aqua shirt. “I want to play outside.” They had spent Sunday afternoon out in the porch, but Bella had been a total brat. Coloring was “boring,” and she didn’t want to learn how to play checkers. Cameron had spent most of the afternoon working in his home office.

  “Maybe later, okay?” Harper sucked in a deep breath. After all, it wasn’t Bella’s fault that her nanny was a Martha Stewart wannabe.

  “Anything wrong?” Cameron’s voice made her jump.

  She slammed the refrigerator closed and turned. “Nope. Not at all.”

  “Great.” With his oxford cloth shirt sleeves rolled up neatly and khaki pants, he was very much the Sunday southern gentleman. “Anything I can do to help?”

  She gripped the kitchen counter with both hands. “Got it covered.”

  And if he believed that, she had a Florida swamp she’d like to unload.

  “Terrific.” His gaze dropped to Bella, who looked so cute in her pink play pants and flowered shirt. The new tennis shoes they’d bought at the Oglethorpe Mall lit up with every step. “Hey, Bella, I have something in the car for you.”

  When Cameron swung his daughter into his arms, a lump formed in Harper’s throat. Black hair wild, she looked at her dad with cautious adoration.

  As Cameron opened the back door, he turned back. “Harper, I meant to tell you that a friend will be joining us tonight.”

  “Oh, Connie mentioned that. Looking forward to meeting her.”

  Cameron nodded. “Kimmy was fascinated when I mentioned these family dinners.” He said “family dinners” with wonder, like he was referring to Disney World. “I asked her to join us.”

  “No problem.” Anxiety blazed across Harper’s chest. She watched the two of them take the back stairs to the side yard, where Cameron put Bella down. The little girl was so excited she was practically skipping down the stone walk toward the garage.

  Harper turned back to the crockpot. First step, plug it in. Where should she put the dial? Medium sounded safe. Opening the refrigerator door, she grabbed the sturdy porcelain pot and plunked it in the metal liner, clapping on the Pyrex top.

  Now for the vegetables. From what Harper had seen, there was no big trick to this. Just spread the vegetables out on the pan and cover them with oil. Rummaging through the cupboards, she pulled out one of the larger baking pans and set it on the counter. How hard could this be? Next, she cut the brussel sprouts in half before arranging them on the baking sheet. With a liberal hand, she brushed them with the olive oil.

  As Harper worked, she heard Bella giggling in the side yard. Peeking out, Harper saw that Cameron had put up a badminton set. Bella looked a little young to be whacking a racquet around, but she dodged toward every white birdie Cameron sent her way.

  Hard for Harper to drag her eyes away.

  But there was dinner. With Kimmy.

  In Harper’s home, meals had been a ritual. Her mother cooked huge amounts of food. Spaghetti with juicy meatballs that had to be cut with a knife and swiss steak tenderized by pounding with a heavy plate. Grandma Nora had taught them all how to “lay the table.” Heaven forbid if the blade of a knife faced the wrong direction.

  Speaking of which, it was time to get organized. Rooting around in the ornate credenza, she found some green placemats and set them out. This would be a special meal.

  About an hour later, she felt ready. Still not able to smell anything cooking, she turned up the crockpot. The vegetables were in the oven. Dashing upstairs, she pulled on a khaki mini skirt and a black V-neck. Wasn’t black a dinner color? Pretty subdued so she pulled her hair back with a black and orange scarf and stuck an artificial orange poppy under the scarf. Better. Then back to the kitchen. Cameron and Bella were in the TV room.

  When Kimmy arrived, her sultry voice rolled toward the back of the house like a thick wave of warm grits. If Harper closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the pop psychologist was conducting one of her interviews. Couldn’t help one quick peek.

  Talking quietly in the foyer, Cameron and Kimmy made a striking couple. Her blonde hair shimmered, a striking contrast to the blue dress hugging her figure in all the right places. And those platform shoes? To die for.

  But Bella was hiding behind her father.

  “Come here, darlin’,” Kimmy coaxed. “I have a gift for you, sweetheart.”

  Bella’s head stayed plastered between the backs of Cameron’s legs.

  “Don’t you want to see what I have for my special girl?”

  Kimmy loo
ked up at Cameron, who clearly didn’t know what to do. Nudging open an expensive looking box, the TV personality shook out a yellow voile dress with a ruffled collar and puffy sleeves. She held it out as if a camera were zooming in on it. “Isn’t this the prettiest thing you have ever seen?”

  Peeking around her father, Bella frowned. “Yuk. Harper says I don’t have to wear dresses. Not if I don’t want to.”

  Oh, lordy. Harper crept closer.

  Cameron looked way in over his head. “Well, now, darlin’, Kimmy went to a great deal of trouble for you. Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

  Folding her arms over her chest, Bella stood silent. Tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes.

  “Good girls are always grateful,” Kimmy said primly.

  Bella’s bow lips trembled.

  That did it. Harper stepped up to the plate. “It’s, well, really something.”

  Kimmy looked over, her gaze settling on Harper’s hair. Maybe it was the flower.

  “Kimmy, I’d like you to meet Harper, our nanny.”

  “The new one? Charmed, I’m sure.” She threw Harper a tight smile, hands still gripping the horrible dress.

  “Bella’s just not used to seeing...well, so many ruffles.” Gently taking the dress, Harper folded it back into the tissue. She turned to Cameron. “Maybe I’ll just put this where it belongs?” Like the trash?

  “Thank you, Harper. So thoughtful of you, Kimmy, to think of Bella.” Taking Kimmy’s elbow, Cameron steered her into the library. “Would you like a key lime martini?”

  Kimmy cooed approval, and Bella trotted behind Harper into the kitchen where she put the box on the counter. “Want to watch me cook?”

  Lower lip protruding, Bella nodded and climbed into a chair.

  Tying on her Wonder Woman apron—a Christmas gift from Adam that she’d never worn until today—Harper figured it was time to channel Martha.

  Cameron came into the kitchen to fix some drinks. He sniffed and grinned. “Smells great in here. Nice apron.”

  “Gift from a friend.” After lifting the cover of the crockpot, she poked the roast with a fork. Connie did that a lot and so did her mother. “How’s it going out there?”

  “This is really nice, having dinner together. I appreciate it, Harper.” His smile flowed over her like warm chocolate.

  “Family meals are always… good.” Kimmy wasn’t family, although that may be the plan. Harper gave the meat another stab.

  “Dinner at six?” Martini glasses in hand, Cameron turned.

  “Right.” She spun the crockpot dial briskly. Almost felt like she knew what she was doing. Grabbing the bowl of olive oil, she opened the oven and brushed one more coating of oil on the vegetables. Cameron’s footsteps moved down the hall.

  In the dining room, Harper took her time laying out what looked like the good china. The Kirkpatrick clan had always used their everyday dishes. Her grandmother’s china was only used on holidays after the boys broke a plate or two washing them. Cameron’s china was beautiful with a thick black band that looked blind embossed. The pattern suited the green placemats. She was fussing with the table when Cameron appeared at the door, Kimmy right behind his shoulder.

  “Everything all right?”

  “Sure.” She sniffed. “I’ll be back.” Harper scurried for the kitchen and was met by billowing smoke. Oh, mercy. She yanked the crockpot cord from the outlet. Too late. The smoke alarm went off. When she pulled the oven door open, searing smoke blinded her. The luscious green brussel sprouts had become charcoal briquettes. Grabbing two hot pads, she pulled out the baking sheet and set it on the unlit burners. Her nerves jangled and the alarm continued to wail. Grabbing a dish towel, she found the device and waved the towel under it. Tears stung her eyes, but she’d be damned if she’d let Cameron or Kimmy see them. The three of them clustered in the doorway, Bella in her father’s arms. This dinner had turned into fifty shades of hell.

  “Is Harper going to burn the house down, Daddy?” Bella looked at her father for confirmation.

  “I think she just might, sugga.” Kimmy flashed a satisfied smile.

  Picking up the meat fork, Harper turned.

  Chapter 9

  Cameron’s eyes were glued to the fork. “Harper? Everything okay?”

  She could hardly breathe. Avoiding Kimmy’s eyes, Harper eased in a tight breath. Her death grip on the bone handle of the fork relaxed. No sense losing this job on a mere technicality, like stabbing a guest. Lifting the cover of the crockpot, she gave the darn roast a hearty poke. Cameron stepped over to the smoke alarm and the screeching stopped. Harper’s ears still rang with rage and heat surged up her cheeks.

  Probably her redhead genes. One glance into the pot and she slammed the cover back on tonight’s dinner before Kimmy got a good look at the charred mess.

  “Goodness sakes alive, what in heaven’s name happened here?” Kimmy surveyed the kitchen with barely concealed satisfaction.

  “I’m hungry, Harper,” Bella whined.

  “Oh, sweetie.” If only she could produce a miracle.

  Cameron studied the burned vegetables. “Why don’t you feed Bella and I’ll order takeout.”

  By that time, Kimmy had grabbed a hot pad. Almost looked like she knew what to do with it. The expression on her face when she checked on their dinner didn’t hold any hope. “Why, I never knew meat could turn black like this, sugga.”

  You’d think a psychologist would be more kind.

  “Harper.” Bella pulled on her leg. “I wanna eat.”

  “Okay, we’re going to fix that.” Harper had to put the kitchen drama behind and step back into her nanny role. Quickly, she got Bella into her chair with a sippy cup and mixed up the cereal. Cameron and Kimmy disappeared. Even after Harper opened the back door, the burnt smell lingered. She sure as heck didn’t want Connie to come in Monday morning and smell this.

  While Bella spooned in the slop, Harper studied the freezer. No frozen meals. Besides, those would never make the grade with Kimmy in the Morning. What a relief to hear Cameron in the hallway, ordering takeout. Kimmy’s voice was also audible. “How can you keep her when she’s incompetent?”

  “Harper is a nanny, not a cook,” Cameron countered. Harper’s tight shoulders eased. “And please keep your voice down, Kimmy. She’ll hear you.”

  Right. As if Kimmy cared.

  Watching Bella eat her warm bowl of pablum, she decided Cameron was right. She was a nanny and she better act like one. She had to find a way to help Bella gain an appetite for regular food. She may have failed big time tonight by pretending to be a gourmet cook, but with Bella? She was going to succeed.

  The words rang hollow in her mind. Fleeting confidence sifted through her like sand. What did she know about a child’s eating habits? Tears prickled behind her eyes, and her nose began to run. Grabbing a paper towel, she blotted her face. Maybe she should pack it in. Billy’s parting words penetrated her despair. You never finish anything. He’d thrown those words at her like a Molotov cocktail as he grabbed his duffel bag and headed for the airport and California.

  That was before the break-up call.

  Harper pulled herself up so sharp in the chair that her back muscles protested. No way. Billy was wrong and she had to prove it. Come hell or high water, Bella would eat toddler food. And Harper would learn how to cook. Never in this lifetime would she be humiliated like this again.

  After Bella finished eating, Harper slipped the bowl into the dishwasher. She could hear Cameron and Kimmy in the library. When the ribs, coleslaw, and sweet potato fries arrived, Harper threw everything into serving bowls and had the meal on the table in seconds. Tummy full, Bella was content to sit with them, jabbing her napkin with a fork.

  Seated at the table, Harper found herself facing Kimmy. Although the ribs were mouthwatering, Kimmy was on a diet, of course. She cut meat from the bone with ladylike precision. “You know, Cameron, ribs are not good for your heart, darlin’.”

  “That’s one rule
I’ll never follow.” Cameron ripped into those ribs like he hadn’t eaten in days.

  “My goodness, are we celebrating Christmas?” Kimmy pointed to her placemat.

  Harper glanced down.

  Holly hellfire, swallow me please.

  Sure enough, holly sprigs patterned the corners of the green placemats. How could Harper have missed them? Her face flared, her throat closed and she put her fork down.

  The sticky corners of Cameron’s lips lifted. “I do believe green is good at any time.”

  Harper’s stifled laugh turned into a coughing fit, and Kimmy’s frown deepened.

  “Well, really.” Kimmy turned to her coleslaw.

  Like Kimmy, Harper had been carefully cutting the pork from the bone, as if this were biology lab. When she noticed Cameron taking the direct route, she grabbed a slippery length in her fingers and dug in, Chicago style. Heck with being a southern lady. She’d missed that train a long time ago.

  She had given Bella a small bowl of applesauce. From a jar, it was probably the same consistency as the cereal and looked just as appetizing. Head propped on one hand, Bella swirled a spoon through the applesauce but never lifted the spoon to her mouth.

  “Darlin’, could you stop that please?” Cameron finally asked.

  “Shouldn’t play with your food, Bella,” Kimmy said while she toyed with her slaw.

  Bella’s sigh weighed on Harper. Every bite became more difficult. When she put her fork down, no one seemed to notice.

  Kimmy didn’t have any trouble filling the silence. As Harper listened to Cameron and his girlfriend talk about events and people she didn’t know, it struck her that Kimmy was older than Cameron. The TV personality had to be in her mid-thirties.

  Cameron went for older women. Interesting.

  Harper was almost disappointed when no one wanted coffee. Hard to mess up with the individual portion coffee machine and the mudslide creamer she’d picked up. A stop at “Back in the Day” bakery had yielded lavender and Mexican hot chocolate cookies, along with drunken brownies. She arranged her peace offerings on a plate.

  “Way too many calories for me.” Kimmy sniffed, passing on dessert.