Blindsided (Fair Catch Series, Book Three) Read online

  Harper straightened and beamed at him. “Princess Pink Rose.”

  He dipped his head as he smiled at her. “Of course. How could I have forgotten? Princess Pink Rose. You’ll always be my Princess.” Then he nuzzled her neck, throwing her into a fit of giggles.

  Had London made up the whole “charming but selfish” thing? Because to Mari, he just seemed charming. And beyond adorable with Harper.

  Chapter Three

  “Should we show Mari your princess room?” Hank said as he set Harper on the ground, the exhaustion he’d felt after practice beginning to evaporate with his daughter’s enthusiasm for all things princess.

  “Yes yes yes! My princess room!” Harper fairly danced with joy.

  Laughing, he took her hand and walked toward the house, feeling more than seeing that Mari was following them. Later that evening he wanted to talk to her, get to know her. It wasn’t that he distrusted London’s judgment, but he had to know for himself that this Marigold woman was qualified to take care of his sweet Harper.

  After walking through the front door, he held it open for Mari, noticing again how petite she was. A fresh floral scent followed in her wake, and Hank found himself inhaling more deeply.

  Step back. She’s your daughter’s nanny.

  The inside of Hank’s house was just as beautiful as the outside. Did he have an eye for design? No, of course not. The man was a running back for the Sacramento Vipers, not an interior designer. He’d obviously hired someone.

  But Mari loved the feel of the interior—distinctly masculine, yet warm and inviting. The circular entry featured stone-covered floors and walls as well as a soaring ceiling. A doorway to the left led to a kitchen, but she barely glanced inside as Hank walked through an arched doorway and into a cozy sitting room with French doors that led to a stunning backyard. Mari was eager to explore, but before she could get a look outside, Hank began ascending a staircase. Hurrying to keep up, when they reached the landing—a large open space—Mari saw a room across the way that could only be Harper’s.

  “Mari, come see my room!” Harper dashed to Mari’s side and slipped her hand into Mari’s before tugging her forward.

  Happy to comply, Mari threw a small smile at Hank—she didn’t want him to feel supplanted by her—and allowed Harper to lead her into her pink palace.

  “This is my princess bed,” Harper said, her eyes wide and sparkling, her hand still gripping Mari’s as they stood beside a white four-poster bed. “And this is my special princess pillow.”

  Mari looked at all the pinks and purples and lace and tulle and could see why Harper loved it. A mural of castles and princesses adorned two walls, and a painting of a tree with a bounty of apples filled a third.

  “It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen,” Mari said, her voice hushed as she smiled at Harper. “You really are Princess Pink Rose, aren’t you?”

  Nodding solemnly, Harper looked from Mari to Hank. “I am Princess Pink Rose, right, Daddy?”

  “Of course you are.” He scooped her into his arms. “And is Princess Pink Rose hungry?”

  Her lips formed a half-frown as she nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well, we can’t have that. I’ll ask Mrs. Stillman to fix you something to eat. How about that?”

  “Are you going to eat with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Mari going to eat with me?”

  Hank looked at Mari, but Mari didn’t say a thing. At London’s house, when London was home at dinner time, she often invited Mari to join her and Harper. Still, Mari didn’t expect it.

  Hank had no problem with Harper’s nanny joining them. It would give him more time to see how she interacted with Harper. Raising his eyebrows in Mari’s direction, Hank asked, “Does Mari want to eat with us?”

  Smiling, she said, “Sure. Thank you.”

  Hank knelt in front of Harper. “Let’s show Mari where her room is, and then after you both get settled, we’ll eat.”

  “I want to show her,” Harper said, then she raced to Mari’s side and slipped her hand into hers.

  There was no doubt that his daughter had bonded with Mari. Hank sincerely hoped the woman—girl?—was truly qualified. “Okay. Lead the way, Harper.”

  “You didn’t call me Princess Pink Rose.” Disappointment shone from her eyes.

  Shaking his head as he softly chuckled, he said, “So sorry, Princess Pink Rose. I’ll try to do better.”

  Her face brightened, then she looked up at Mari. “You should be Princess Orange Marigold.”

  Mari laughed and knelt in front of her. “You know what? I’m a secret princess, and no one but you and your dad can know, so you should just call me Mari. Okay?”

  Harper’s eyes widened. “I won’t tell a secret.”

  “Okay. Now, where is this room of mine?”

  Hank had to admit, Mari was beginning to grow on him. She was so sweet with Harper. And clever too.

  Letting Harper lead the way, he walked behind her and Mari, smiling at their interlocked hands. And not able to stop himself from noticing the way Mari’s hips gently swayed in a most alluring way.

  “Your room is right next to mine,” Harper said, her voice vibrant.

  Mari smiled down at her. “That’s perfect.” Then she looked at the space that she would call home.

  The room was pretty, yet simple. Nestled against one wall was a queen bed with a lavender comforter and several plump pillows, and across from it sat a matching dresser. A bathroom was attached to the room, and along another wall was a set of French doors that led onto a small balcony.

  Mari’s gaze went to the large tree outside the balcony—like living in a treehouse. Her room at London’s house was larger, but this room held a certain charm that appealed to her. Anyway, it didn’t matter. She was there to take care of Harper—she wasn’t on vacation. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I’m glad it meets with your approval,” Hank said.

  Mari spun around. She’d almost forgotten he was there. His striking green eyes were focused solely on her, and that butterfly in her belly was joined by another.

  “My room’s prettier,” Harper said matter-of-factly.

  Glancing at Hank, Mari laughed. “Yes. Your room is the prettiest of all.”

  “Because I’m a princess.”

  Hank lifted Harper into his arms. “A princess who needs to eat.” Then he turned to Mari. “I’ll bring your bags up, and after you both get settled, come down to the dining room.” He set Harper down. “Harper—I mean Princess Pink Rose—knows where it is.”

  Harper giggled and Mari nodded.

  Moments later he was gone.

  She found she was looking forward to dinner.

  Chapter Four

  “It’s this way, Mari,” Harper said as she tugged on Mari’s hand. Mari allowed the little girl to lead her into a dining room, but there were no places set at the table.

  Hank stepped into the room. “It’s nice outside, so we’re going to eat out there.” Hank looked at Harper. “Can you take Mari out to the patio dining area?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Before long the three of them were seated around a large table in a covered area that would be considered a full-on dining room in most houses. The space continued the Tuscan theme—dark red octagonal tiles on the floor, tan plaster on the walls, rich wood beams on the ceiling. An outdoor kitchen was nearby, and not far beyond, Mari saw sparkling turquoise water in a tiled pool.

  The sun would be setting soon and the evening was pleasant. They all sat, Hank at the head of the table, Harper to his right and Mari beside Harper.

  An older woman whose dark hair had streaks of grey brought out a tray of food.

  “Mrs. Stillman,” Hank said to her, then he gestured to Mari. “This is Harper’s Nanny. Mari.”

  Mrs. Stillman walked around the table and smiled at Mari, her eyes crinkling and her hand held out. “Welcome, Mari.”

&n
bsp; Mari shook Mrs. Stillman’s hand. “Thank you. It’s so pretty here.”

  “If you need anything, just let me know.”

  “I will.”

  Mrs. Stillman carried out more food, and after helping Harper fill her plate, Mari filled her own.

  Hank sliced off a chunk of meat from the chicken breast on his plate. “Tell me about yourself, Mari.”

  Mari swallowed the bite of broccoli she’d been chewing. Was this like a job interview? London was her employer, she was the one who had the power to fire her, but she could understand Hank’s interest. She was taking care of his daughter, after all, and he didn’t know her.

  “What would you like to know, Mr. Parson?”

  His forehead creased. “Call me Hank.”

  Glad he’d suggested that—he was only a few years older than her, even if he was her charge’s father—she nodded. “Okay.”

  “I know a gentleman doesn’t usually ask a lady her age, but…”

  She knew she looked younger than her years, so she didn’t mind. “I’m twenty-four.” His eyebrows shot up, like this was a great surprise. Mari suppressed a laugh. “I can show you my driver’s license if you want.”

  Chuckling, he said, “No. That’s okay. I believe you.” He paused a beat. “How long have you been a nanny?”

  So, this was going to be like a job interview. That was fine. Mari had complete confidence in her qualifications. “I was a nanny for twin boys for three years, but when they started school, their mother decided they no longer needed a nanny.”

  “And London found you how?”

  “She’s friends with the mother of those twin boys.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  Mari noticed Harper struggling with her chicken, so she cut it into smaller bites.

  Some of Hank’s concerns were put to rest by what she’d told him, but he wanted more information. He watched her cut Harper’s chicken, glad to see that she was attentive to Harper’s needs. “What kind of education do you have?”

  She finished cutting the meat, then lifted her gaze to look at him, her grey eyes appraising. Did she not like all the questions? He didn’t care what she did or didn’t like. This wasn’t about her. It was about Harper. Although he did notice the way her hair fell across her cheek, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

  She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “I have a degree in art history.”

  That had nothing to do with children. He frowned.

  Her chin lifted slightly. “What about you?”

  Eyebrows furrowing, he said, “What about me?”

  “Do you have a degree?”

  He didn’t like her questioning him. Especially in front of Harper. Glancing at his daughter, who was focused on spearing her chicken with her fork, he looked at Mari and lifted his lips in a slight smile. “Let’s continue this conversation later.”

  A flush crept across her cheeks as she nodded. Good. Maybe she would remember who was who in this house.

  The rest of the meal Hank concentrated on Harper with occasional glances at Mari. Now that he knew she was quite a bit older than eighteen, and only a few years younger than he was, he’d become more aware of the subtle things about her—the way her face lit up when she smiled, the way she made Harper her sole focus, the way she hardly seemed to notice he existed.

  Wait. Why did that bother him?

  But it was obvious. He was used to the world paying all kinds of attention to him. Especially now that London wasn’t by his side to draw away everyone’s admiration. Why was Mari different? Why did she seem to completely ignore him?

  She wouldn’t be able to ignore him when they spoke later, when they were alone.

  Mari had to work hard to ignore Hank Parson. There was something about the man that demanded she look at him—at those eyes, that chiseled jaw, that amazingly fit body. But she refused to listen to those demands. She was only there because of Harper and that’s where she needed to keep her focus.

  She kind of dreaded being one-on-one with Hank later. Without Harper to draw her attention, Mari would have no choice but to focus on Hank. And he would be focusing on her. Maybe she could beg off, pretend she was too tired to talk to him.

  No. He would want to talk to her eventually. It was only natural. She was caring for his daughter and of course he needed to assuage any concerns he had about her.

  She would just get it over with.

  Like usual, the meal Mrs. Stillman had made was delicious—everything cooked to perfection with just the right seasoning. So why was Hank having a hard time enjoying it? Could it be that he was hyper-aware of everything Mari did? But why should he be noticing her at all? She was his daughter’s nanny. And he already had a woman in his life.

  Simone Greenwood. They’d been dating for several months, and though Hank liked her well enough, the spark that had been there at the beginning had begun to sputter. At least for him. But she was stunning and smart and good company. She was also demanding. However, there had been plenty of times when she had been attentive to him and his needs. Enough times to keep him going, apparently, because he was still seeing her.

  “Can I have ice cream, please?” Harper asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

  He grinned. “Ice cream? I didn’t know you liked ice cream.”

  “I do like ice cream.”

  “Which flavor do you like?” He held up his hand. “Wait. Let me guess.” He squinted as if deep in thought. “Cookies and cream with whip cream and a cherry on top?”

  She nodded, her eyes growing wide.

  “You’re in luck, because I think we have some. Do you want to make your own dessert?”

  “I can do how much whip cream I want?”

  He laughed. “Yes.” Hank’s gaze went to Mari, who was watching him, her lips lifting in a smile. “What about you, Mari? What flavor do you like?”

  “None for me, thanks.”

  “Mari doesn’t like ice cream,” Harper said, her voice solemn, like this was a great tragedy.

  Hank’s eyebrows shot up. “Doesn’t like ice cream?” He looked at Mari. “Why not?”

  One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I prefer fresh fruit over sweets.”

  Hank preferred to eat healthy himself—had to in order to stay in tip-top shape. “Let me see what we have.”

  She shook her head. “Oh no. I’m fine. You don’t need to go to any trouble for me.”

  He’d gotten so used to Simone and her demands that Mari’s insistence to basically forget about her took him by surprise.

  “All right.” He stood, then smiled at Harper. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Mari watched him go, her gaze drawn to his trim waist and muscular biceps. The man was in fantastic shape, no doubt about that. Something she shouldn’t be noticing, but couldn’t seem to avoid.

  Nearly ten minutes passed before he returned carrying a tray. He set it on the table and Mari was surprised to see a colorful fruit salad in a large bowl, a small dish of ice cream, a can of whip cream, and a pair of empty bowls.

  He set the dish of ice cream in front of Harper and held out the canister of whip cream. “Here you go, Princess Pink Rose.”

  Harper beamed at him, then she turned the can partially upside down before pressing the nozzle. Whip cream shot out, some of it going on her ice cream and some of it going on her shirt. Wide-eyed, she looked from Hank to Mari and back to Hank. “I spilled.”

  “That’s okay,” Hank said, then to Mari’s delight, he jumped right in to clean her up. Once he’d wiped off her shirt, he sprayed more whip cream on her ice cream, not stopping until she’d said it was enough.

  “Are you going to be able to eat all that?” Mari asked.

  Harper shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Chuckling, Mari said, “Just eat what you want. You don’t have to eat all of it.” She looked at Hank to see if he would contradict her, but he nodded.

  He handed her an empty dish, then pointed to th
e large bowl of fruit salad. “Help yourself.”

  Using the serving spoon, she scooped out a small serving. “I hope you didn’t make this just for me.”

  He chuckled. “Mrs. Stillman’s the one who made it. And contrary to what a lot of people might think, football players actually try to eat healthy foods, not just fill up on carbs.” To emphasize that, he scooped out a generous helping of fruit and dug in.

  Mari had never given a thought to what football players did or didn’t eat, but she didn’t want to puncture Hank’s ego by pointing that out.

  As the meal drew to a close, Mari became more and more nervous. Soon, she and Hank would be alone. No Harper to distract them. How would it feel to have his attention concentrated one hundred percent on her?

  As she imagined it, her heart began to pound.

  Forcing herself to focus on Harper, she pushed down thoughts of Hank and her growing attraction.

  Chapter Five

  “I miss my mommy,” Harper said with a frown as Mari helped her into her pajamas.

  “She said she would FaceTime you tonight,” Mari said. “I’ll text her and let her know you’re ready.”

  A slight smile lifted Harper’s lips. “Okay.”

  Mari sent a quick text to London, and a few minutes later her phone rang. “It’s your mommy.”

  Harper smiled as Mari started the FaceTime session and handed her the phone.

  “Hi, baby girl,” Mari could hear London say.

  Mari half-listened to the conversation until Harper handed her the phone.

  “Mommy wants to talk to you.”

  “Okay. Go brush your teeth while I talk to her.”

  Harper skipped off to the bathroom while Mari greeted London.

  “How’s everything going?” London asked, her face filling the screen.

  “Just fine. Harper seems quite at home here, so that’s good.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” London’s lips pursed. “How did things go with Hank?”