13. Mira

13

MIRA

I need coffee.

You'd think working in coffee shops all around the country and coming home reeking of burnt coffee beans everyday would turn me off the stuff, but you'd be wrong.

As soon as I pull out of the parking garage under Zane's building, I am on the hunt. My wheels screech against the asphalt as I careen into the parking lot of the first non-Bean & Brew coffee shop I see.

I call Taylor while I'm standing in line. "Finally!" she says instead of answering the phone like a normal human. "Where have you been?"

"Up until four minutes ago? At my interview. You have no chill."

"Excuse me for being excited for you." I can hear the eye roll through the phone. "So, how did it go? Did you get it?"

I pat the side of my purse to remind myself that it isn't as close to death as it was this morning. Zane sent me off with an advance on my first paycheck. And I didn't even have to ask! I'm still not sure I'd go as far as Taylor and call him "nice," but he's… he's something, alright.

"I got it."

Taylor squeals and I can't fight my own smile.

An hour ago, I wouldn't have called this a win. I've been going to the gym long enough to know that guys who look like Zane do not have hearts of gold to match. They're all the same overconfident, hypersexual assholes who care more about the definition in their biceps than whatever woman they happen to be slipping their dick into that day.

I assumed Zane was the exact same way. Until he burst through that bathroom door and saved me from that creep.

And in case that was a fluke, I have even more evidence.

What kind of person locks a kid in a closet? He looked genuinely horrified when I accused him of locking his kid away. So horrified that I believed him.

Zane Whitaker may be a lot of things, but he's a good dad. Trying to be, at least.

"I didn't realize he had a kid."

Taylor snorts. "What did you think a nannying job entailed? Of course he has a kid."

"No, I mean, like, before I got the job. I've seen his name… in the papers." Lies . I don't follow sports. Before the throwdown in the Bean & Brew bathroom, Zane Whitaker and the entire Phoenix Angels hockey team could have busted into a flash mob in my living room and I wouldn't have known a thing.

"Oh. Yeah, I don't really know how that all happened," Taylor admits. "He isn't dating anyone."

Some small part of me rises to attention—and I kick that small part of me right in her stupid vag.

Absolutely not. I don't care if Zane is dating. I don't need to know a single thing about the who, what, when, where, and why of it all, unless it pertains to me watching his kid.

"Guys like him don't need to be in a committed relationship to make a baby."

"No, I guess not." Taylor laughs, but I can practically hear the gears in her head turning. She prides herself on knowing this kind of stuff. She thought a contestant on the last season of The Bachelor was suspicious, so she online stalked the girl back to her private middle school.

The single, ongoing small mercy in my life is that Taylor has never tried to look me up online.

"But you don't know who the mom is…?" I ask cautiously. "It sounds like I'll be a full-time nanny. He didn't say anything about sharing custody."

"I don't know anything. Is it wrong if I ask you to spy on your employer and report back with all the juiciest details?"

"I think he's going to have me sign an NDA, so yeah, I think it would be frowned upon."

Taylor clicks her tongue in disappointment. "How comfortable are you breaking the law?"

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes against my ear. Taylor is one of the only people who has this number.

Plus, as of thirty minutes ago…

"It's Zane," I explain as the first call ends and another one comes in half a second later.

"Is he missing you already?"

I roll my eyes even as my stomach flips at the very idea. "He's my boss, Tay."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Is Mr. Whitaker already missing his sexy new nanny?"

"I never would have taken this job if I knew you were going to be a child about it." Or if I had any other option.

Zane's name flashes on my screen for the third time, and I'm starting to worry something is seriously wrong. "I have to take this."

"Ask him if he's dating anyone!"

I happily hang up on my best friend and answer Zane's call. "Hello?"

"Come back. Right now."

Maybe Taylor was onto something. Maybe he is missing me.

"My contract doesn't start until Monday," I remind him warily. "Don't you have a personal assistant you can call?"

"Hanna can't help with this. I need you."

I do my very best not to read more into those words than there is. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is…" His voice trails off and the silence becomes answer enough. "How soon can you be back here? We need to talk."

Am I being fired already?

Is something wrong with Aiden?

DOES HE ACTUALLY MISS ME?

I squash down the panicked, frantic voice in my head and take a deep breath. "I'm only a few minutes away. I can turn around and head back."

"Good. Hurry."

I manage to stay on my feet when Zane opens the door the second time, but it's still jarring.

He's tall . And big . And handsome . I mentally add those to the list of adjectives that can describe Zane Whitaker.

But something in his eyes is wrong.

"Everything okay?"

He looks up and down the hallway like there might be a spy lurking in the corner before he drags me inside by the crook of my elbow. "We need to talk."

"About what? I was just here talking to you for almost an hour." He lets me go, but my arm tingles where he touched me.

"Yeah, and then you left, shit happened, and now, we need to renegotiate."

The living room is empty. Everything in the apartment looks just as shiny, sleek, and expensive as it did when I left. "Is Aiden okay?"

"He's fine. For now."

"Why would you say that? ‘ For now'? That's ominous."

He points to the couch. "Just sit down."

"I'd rather stand." It's easier to flee when I'm already on my feet. "Is Aiden fine or not?"

Zane paces back and forth in front of me. He tugs a hand through his blonde hair and I don't think I know him well enough to see this side of him yet. I haven't even signed the NDA. Does knowing that he has a dimple in his right cheek that only shows up when he's frowning count as a trade secret?

Finally, he stops, pivoting every broad inch of himself to face me. "Aiden is going to be fine. I'm going to make sure he is fine. Which is why I need your help."

"As his nanny?"

"Not quite." There's that dimple again. It's starting to worry me. "I may or may not have told a government official that you're my girlfriend."

I'm neither rested nor caffeinated enough to process that.

"Maybe I should have sat down," I mumble.

"That'll teach you to listen to me." Then he shakes his head. "Actually, it probably won't. But as soon as you left, two CPS agents dropped in."

I stumble back. "As in Child Protective Services? Why?"

What kind of person locks a kid in a closet? I'm not crazy. Zane looked horrified when I accused him of abusing Aiden. He wouldn't lock his son in a closet.

So, why the fuck is the government after his kid?

"Because Aiden's mom died," Zane explains. Though that doesn't begin to scratch the surface of the questions stacking up in my mind. "She died and she never told me about Aiden, so I became a father forty-eight hours ago."

I shuffle around him and drop down on the edge of the deep, plushy couch. Suddenly, being close to an exit isn't as important as making sure I don't pass out and concuss myself.

"And I thought I was having a rough week."

"Yeah, well, the fun doesn't end there." He claims the chair next to me, his elbows resting on his knees. He's hunched forward over the coffee table, but he still takes up so much space. It's distracting how much of my attention he commands. "Now, I have some CPS kid-snatcher on a power trip who thinks I live in the fucking Playboy Mansion."

I glance around. The condo is nice. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over downtown. There's a balcony that wraps around the living room and a set of stairs that lead to a mezzanine level with even more rooms.

"Your place is nice, but I don't think Hugh Hefner would live here."

Zane scowls. "The bastard thinks I date around too much. He thinks I'm not providing a stable home environment for Aiden."

Oh, yeah, I definitely should have done a rigorous Google search on Zane. Who has he dated? How many skeletons are in his closet? Just how many notches on his bedpost? I made some cheap cracks about women throwing themselves at him, but I was just making assumptions. With a face and a body like that, some things are inevitable.

"That's not any of his business, is it?" I know for sure it's none of mine. "He can't judge you for having a social life."

"No, but he can judge me for being an addict with a criminal record."

My jaw falls all the way open before I can snap it shut. "You know I haven't signed the NDA yet, right?"

He cocks his head in my direction. "Are you planning to sell my secrets to the highest bidder, Mira?"

I don't even need to think about it. "No. I wouldn't do that."

"Good. Not that it would matter if you did. All of my shit has already been laid bare." He sighs. "I made my mistakes and I'm clean now. But that doesn't erase what people may already know about me."

"I don't know anything about you," I admit.

He chuckles to himself. "There you go with that painful honesty again. You're lucky my ego isn't fragile."

Is Zane Whitaker suggesting I could hurt his feelings? Yet another thing I bury in the shallow graveyard of thoughts I should not have about my new boss.

"I just mean… Well, I mean I don't know anything about you," I repeat. "So you need to explain all of this to me."

He turns his bright blue eyes on me and I see something I missed. Something hidden behind a sculpted jawline and floppy blonde hair.

Zane Whitaker is sad .

Somewhere under his broad, pretty boy exterior, he's hiding a soft heart.

As soon as I get that little glimpse into his soul, he stands up and paces away from me, like he knew I was seeing more than he wanted me to see. "There isn't time to explain everything. All I need to know is if you're willing to be my fake girlfriend until I can get this douche bag CPS guy off my back."

I search his face for more of what I saw a second ago, but it's gone. I huff out a weak laugh. "This is insane."

"I'll compensate you," he adds. "Obviously."

"In addition to my nannying fees?"

He nods. "I'll double it."

My breath catches in my throat. Double it. As in, twice as much money as the already generous amount he was going to pay me.

I could afford a couch.

"Actually…" He wrinkles his nose, bobbing his head as he considers. "The original rate was for eight hours, but you'll be living here until this is all over. That's twenty-four hours per day. So, I'll triple it."

Holy shit. Two couches.

My heart is about to beat out of my chest. I can barely breathe, but I force out a shaky exhale. "What does being a fake girlfriend entail?"

He starts pacing again, ticking off conditions on his fingers. "You move in immediately. I have no idea when CPS will drop in again and I want to be ready. Also, you can't bring random people over to my house."

"That won't be a problem."

He stops, his mouth almost curling into a smile. "Are you telling me you aren't much of a hostess, Wednesday?"

I frown, only proving his point. "My condition: no more calling me Wednesday Addams."

Zane's blue eyes light up, but he nods in agreement. "Fine. No alcohol or drugs, obviously. Nothing that would raise a CPS agent's eyebrows. And you can't date anyone outside of this relationship. It's fake for us, but it has to look real to everyone else."

"That's fair." And incredibly doable. Without knowing it, I've been following Zane's guidelines for years now.

"Oh, and no sex," he throws in quickly, almost like it's an afterthought.

"You just said that. No one else outside of this relationship." I give him a thumbs up. "Got it."

Zane drags a tired hand over his stubble. "I was talking about with me . You and me. We won't be having sex with each other."

"Oh." All the blood in my body rises to my face. Heat cascades down my neck, but I force myself to give him an easy smile. "You should have said that to start with. This was all an elaborate ruse to get in your bed, Zane. So, now that that's off the table, I'm out of here."

It's a joke to crack the tension, but for a second, Zane's bright blue eyes darken. That dimple on his right cheek makes an appearance, and I remember where this all started.

Not that long ago, I was basically naked and Zane was looming over me with an expression that looked an awful lot like the one he's wearing now. We were at a fork in the road. One little choice is the only thing that separates this joke from what could have very well been a reality.

A sweaty, sexy, grindy, breathless reality.

I was dangerously close to letting my new boss fuck me in that coffee shop bathroom.

And he knows it.

I clear my throat. "Kidding. I'm kidding."

"I'm not." A muscle in his jaw twitches. "No touching. No sex."

Suddenly, I want to touch him. My fingers ache to reach towards him for no other reason than he told me not to.

I curl my fingers into fists and tuck those fists underneath my thighs for good measure. "Are you telling me not to fall in love with you, Zane?"

"Do I need to? Are you worried you might?" He grins for a second, but it wilts just as fast. "No, that goes without saying. I'm not the kind of man you want to fall in love with."

"I think you're wrong about that," I blurt before I can stop myself. When his eyes snap to mine, I look out the window. At the glass buildings reflecting the late afternoon light. The view that will be mine for who knows how long. "But it doesn't matter, anyway. I'm not the kind of woman who falls in love."

"Perfect. Sounds like we're a fake match made in heaven." Zane steps up to the coffee table and reaches his hand across to me. "Do we have a deal?"

Even if this fake relationship only lasts a week, I'll make enough to pad my emergency fund for months. For the first time in years, I'll have some cushion. I'll have a chance to breathe.

All for the low, low price of my dignity.

And what's that worth anyway these days?

I take his hand and shake it. "We have a deal."