Prince Daddy & the Nanny

“In one breath, you assert that you’re not propositioning me, and in the next, you say that you find me attractive.”

“Actually, my comment was more objective than subjective,” Michael told her. “But while I do think you’re a very attractive woman, I didn’t hire you in order to pursue a personal relationship with you.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, still sounding wary.

Not that he could blame her. Because even as he was saying one thing, he was thinking something else entirely.

“In fact, I wouldn’t have invited you to spend the summer here if I thought there was any danger of an attraction leading to anything else.”

“Okay,” she said again.

“I just want you to understand that I didn’t intend for this to happen at all,” he said.

And then he kissed her.

Dear Reader,

It has been a sincere pleasure to return to the island paradise of Tesoro del Mar, to revisit some familiar characters and introduce some new ones. Hannah Castillo is one of the new characters you’ll meet in Prince Daddy & the Nanny.

After the death of her mother when Hannah was only eight years old, her father sent her to Tesoro del Mar to live with her uncle Phillip, the royal physician. Eighteen years later, when Hannah takes a summer job looking after widowed Prince Michael’s four-year-old daughter, she can’t help but see parallels between the princess’s lonely childhood and her own. As she works to help bridge the gap between father and daughter, Hannah finds herself falling for both of them and wishing that the summer would never end.

But of course, Hannah knows that the idea of a prince loving a commoner is nothing more than a fairy tale, and fairy tales don’t come true. Except, maybe, in Tesoro del Mar …

I hope you enjoy Hannah’s story.

Best,

Brenda Harlen

About the Author

BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town, surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner—to Mills & Boon.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (too many books, according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with real people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at [e-mail].

Prince Daddy

& The Nanny

Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Kate Weichelt—

who has helped brainstorm solutions to many story

problems over the years, including a few in this one.

Thanks for being a friend, an inspiration,

and especially for being you!

Chapter One

So this is how the other half lives.

Hannah Castillo’s eyes widened as she drove through the gates into the upscale neighborhood of Verde Colinas.

Actually, she knew it was more likely how half of one percent of the population lived, and she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to grow up in a place like this. Having spent the first eight years of her life moving from village to village with her missionary parents, she hadn’t realized there was anything different until her uncle Phillip had brought her to his home in Tesoro del Mar.

And even then, she wouldn’t have imagined that there was anything like this. She hadn’t known that real people lived in such luxury. Not regular people, of course, but billionaires and business tycoons, musicians and movie stars, philanthropists and princes. Well, at least one prince.

Prince Michael Leandres was the thirty-eight-year-old president of a multimedia advertising company, cousin of the prince regent, widowed father of Tesoro del Mar’s youngest princess, and the first man who had ever made her heart go pitter-patter.

As she slowed to wait for another set of gates to open so that she could enter the drive that led to the prince’s home, she couldn’t help but smile at the memory. She’d been twelve at the time, and as flustered as she was flattered when Uncle Phillip asked her to accompany him to the by-invitation-only Gala Opening of the Port Augustine Art Gallery.

She’d been so preoccupied thinking about what she would wear (she would have to get a new dress, because a gala event surely required a gown) and whether she might be allowed to wear makeup (at least a little bit of eyeliner and a touch of lip gloss) that she hadn’t given a thought to the other guests who might be in attendance at the event. And then she’d walked through the doors on her uncle’s arm and spotted Prince Michael.

To a preteen girl who was just starting to take note of the male species, he was a full six feet of masculine perfection. He was also a dozen years older than she, and already there were rumors swirling about his plans to marry his longtime sweetheart, Samantha Chandelle. But Hannah’s enamored heart hadn’t cared. She’d been content to admire him from afar, her blood racing through her veins just because he was in the same room with her.

Since then, she’d met a lot of other men, dated some of them and even had intimate relationships with a few. But not one of them had ever made her feel the same kind of pulse-pounding, spine-tingling excitement that she’d felt simply by being in the presence of Prince Michael—not even Harrison Parker, the earl who had been her fiancé for a short time.

Now, fourteen years after her first meeting with the prince, she was going to come face-to-face with him again. She might even have a conversation with him—if she could manage to untie her tongue long enough to form any coherent words—and hopefully persuade him that she was the perfect woman to take care of his adorable daughter. Of course, it might be easier to convince him if she believed it herself, but truthfully, she wasn’t sure how she’d let Uncle Phillip convince her that the idea of working as a nanny for the summer wasn’t a completely ridiculous one.

Or maybe she did know. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that she was in desperate need of an income and a place to stay for the summer, and working as a nanny at Cielo del Norte—a royal estate on the northern coast—would provide her with both. But on top of that, her uncle claimed that he “would be most grateful” if she would at least meet with the prince—as if it would be doing him some kind of favor, which made the request impossible for Hannah to deny. That the salary the prince was offering was more than enough to finally pay off the last of her student loans was a bonus.

As for responsibilities, she would be providing primary care for the widowed prince’s almost-four-year-old daughter. She didn’t figure that should be too difficult for someone with a master’s degree, but still her stomach was twisted in knots of both excitement and apprehension as she turned her ancient secondhand compact into the winding drive that led toward the prince’s home.

Having grown up in tents and mud huts and, on very rare occasions, bedding down on an actual mattress in a cheap hotel room, she was unprepared for life in Tesoro del Mar. When she moved into her uncle’s home, she had not just a bed but a whole room to herself. She had clothes in an actual closet, books on a shelf and a hot meal on the table every night. It took her a long time to get used to living in such luxurious surroundings, but pulling up in front of the prince’s home now, she knew she was about to discover the real definition of luxury.

The hand-carved double front doors were opened by a uniformed butler who welcomed her into a spacious marble-tiled foyer above which an enormous crystal chandelier was suspended. As she followed him down a long hallway, their footsteps muted by the antique Aubusson carpet, she noted the paintings on the walls. She had enough knowledge of and appreciation for art to recognize that the works that hung in gilded frames were not reproductions but original pieces by various European masters.

The butler led her through an open doorway and into what was apparently the prince’s office. Prince Michael himself was seated behind a wide desk. Bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes lined the wall behind him. The adjoining wall boasted floor-to-ceiling windows set off by textured velvet curtains. It even smelled rich, she thought, noting the scents of lemon polish, aged leather and fresh flowers.

“Miss Castillo, Your Highness.” The butler announced her presence in a formal tone, then bowed as he retreated from the room.

The nerves continued to twist and knot in her stomach. Was she supposed to bow? Curtsy? She should have asked her uncle about the appropriate etiquette, but she’d had so many other questions and concerns about his proposition that the intricacies of royal protocol had never crossed her mind.

She debated for about ten seconds, then realized the prince hadn’t looked away from his computer screen long enough to even glance in her direction. She could have bowed and curtsied and done a tap dance and he wouldn’t even have noticed. Instead, she focused on her breathing and tried to relax, reminding herself that Michael Leandres might be a prince, but he was still just a man.

Then he pushed away from his desk and rose to his feet, and she realized that she was wrong.

This man wasn’t “just” anything. He was taller than she’d remembered, broader across the shoulders and so much more handsome in person than he appeared in newspaper photos and on magazine covers. And her heart, already racing, leaped again.

He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

His voice was deep and cultured, and with each word, little tingles danced over her skin. She couldn’t be sure if her reaction to him was that of a girl so long enamored of a prince or of a woman instinctively responding to an undeniably attractive man, but she did know that it was wholly inappropriate under the circumstances. She was here to interview for a job, not ogle the man, she sternly reminded herself as she lowered herself into the Queen Anne—style chair and murmured, “Thank you.”

“I understand that you’re interested in working as my daughter’s nanny for the summer,” the prince said without further preamble.

“I am,” she agreed, then felt compelled to add, “although I have to confess that I’ve never actually worked as a nanny before.”

He nodded, seemingly unconcerned by this fact. “Your uncle told me that you’re a teacher.”

“That’s correct.”

“How long have you been teaching?”

“Six years,” she told him.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Of course,” she agreed.

He frowned, and she wondered if her response was somehow the wrong one. But then she realized that his gaze had dropped to the BlackBerry on his desk. He punched a few buttons before he looked up at her again.

“And I understand that you’ve met Riley,” he prompted.

“Only once, a few months ago. I was with a friend at the art gallery—” coincidentally, the same art gallery where she’d first seen him so many years earlier, though it was unlikely that he had any recollection of that earlier meeting “—and Princess Riley was there with her nanny.”

Phillip had explained to her that the nanny—Brigitte Francoeur—had been caring for the princess since she was a baby, and that Prince Michael had been having more difficulty than he’d anticipated in his efforts to find a replacement for the woman who was leaving his employ to get married.

“The way Brigitte told it to me was that my daughter ran away from her, out of the café—and straight into you, dumping her ice cream cone into your lap.”

Hannah waited, wondering about the relevance of his recounting of the event.

“I kept expecting to read about it in the paper,” he explained. “Princess Riley Accosts Museum Guest with Scoop of Strawberry.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sure, even if there had been reporters in the vicinity, they would not have found the moment newsworthy, Your Highness.”

“I’ve learned, over the years, that a public figure doesn’t only need to worry about the legitimate media but anyone who feels they have a story to tell. A lot of ordinary citizens would have happily sold that little tale to El Informador for a tidy sum. Not only did you not run to the press to sell the story of the out-of-control princess, but you bought her a new ice cream cone to replace the one she’d lost.”

“It wasn’t her fault that the strawberry went splat,” she said lightly.

“A gracious interpretation of the event,” he noted. “And one that gives me hope you might finally be someone who could fill the hole that Brigitte’s absence will leave in Riley’s life.”

“For the summer, you mean,” Hannah sought to clarify.

“For the summer,” he agreed. “Although I was originally hoping to find a permanent replacement, the situation has changed. The current nanny is leaving at the end of this week to finalize preparations for her wedding, and my daughter and I are scheduled to be at Cielo del Norte by the beginning of next. None of the applicants I’ve interviewed have been suitable, and your uncle has managed to convince me to settle for an interim solution to the problem.”

She wasn’t sure if she should be amused or insulted. “Is that why I’m here? Am I—”

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, picking up the BlackBerry again. He frowned as he read the message, then typed a quick response. “You were saying?” he prompted when he was done.

“I was wondering if I’m supposed to be your ‘interim solution.’“

His lips curved, just a little, in response to her dry tone. “I hope so. Although my royal duties are minimal, my responsibilities to my business are not,” he explained. “I spend the summers at Cielo del Norte because it is a tradition that began when Samantha—”

His hesitation was brief, but the shadows that momentarily clouded his dark eyes confirmed her uncle’s suspicion that the prince was still grieving for the wife he’d lost only hours after the birth of their daughter, and Hannah’s heart couldn’t help but ache for a man who would have faced such an indescribable loss so quickly on the heels of intense joy.

“—when Samantha and I first got married. A tradition that she wanted to carry on with our children.” He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to reshuffle some papers on his desk. “But the truth is that I still have a company to run. Thankfully I can do that from the beach almost as easily as I can do it from my office downtown. I just need to know that Riley is in good hands so that I can focus on what I need to do.”

Be a good girl and stay out of the way so that Daddy can do his work.

The words, long forgotten, echoed in the back of Hannah’s mind and sliced through her heart.

Maybe they had been born into completely different worlds, but Hannah suddenly wondered if she and Princess Riley might have a lot more in common than she ever would have suspected.

Her own father had rarely had any time for her, and then, when she was eight years old, her mother had died. She still felt the void in her heart. She still missed her. And she wanted to believe that in some small way, she might be able to fill that void for the prince’s daughter. If he would give her the chance.

“Are you offering me the job, Your Highness?” she asked him now.

“Yes, I am,” he affirmed with a nod.

“Then I accept.”

Michael knew he should be relieved. He’d needed to hire a nanny for the summer, and now he’d done so. But there was something about Hannah Castillo that made him uneasy. Or maybe he was simply regretting the fact that his daughter would have to say goodbye to her long-term caregiver. Brigitte had been a constant in Riley’s life almost from the very beginning, and he knew it would take his daughter some time to adjust to her absence.

He wished he could believe that being at Cielo del Norte with him would give Riley comfort, but the truth was, his daughter was much closer to her nanny than she was to her father. It was a truth that filled him with grief and regret, but a truth nonetheless.

He and Sam had long ago agreed that they would both play an active role in raising their child. Of course, that agreement had been made before Sam died, so soon after giving birth to their baby girl. How was one man supposed to care for an infant daughter, grieve for the wife he’d lost and continue to run the company they’d built together?

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that there was no way that he could do it on his own, so he’d hired Brigitte. She’d been a child studies student at the local university who Sam had interviewed as a potential mother’s helper when the expectation was that his wife would be around to raise their daughter.

For the first couple years, Brigitte had tended to Riley during the day and continued her studies at night, with Michael’s sister, Marissa, taking over the baby’s care after-hours. Then when Brigitte finished university and Michael’s sister took on additional responsibilities elsewhere, the young woman had become Riley’s full-time nanny.

I don’t want our child raised by a series of nannies.

Sam’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, so clearly that he almost expected to turn around and see her standing there.

He understood why she’d felt that way and he’d shared her concerns, but he convinced himself that a wonderful and

energetic caregiver like Brigitte was the exception to the

rule. She certainly wasn’t like any of the harsh disciplinarians who had been hired to ensure that he and his siblings grew up to become proper royals.

Still, he knew his failure wasn’t in hiring Brigitte—or even in hiring Hannah Castillo. His failure was in abdicating his own responsibilities as a father.

He’d wanted to do more, to be more involved in Riley’s life. But the first few months after Sam’s death had been a blur. He’d barely been able to focus on getting up every morning, never mind putting a diaper on a baby, so those tasks had fallen to Brigitte or Marissa.

At six months of age, Riley had broken through the veil of grief that had surrounded him. He’d been drinking his morning coffee and scanning the headlines of the newspaper when Marissa had carried her into the kitchen. He’d glanced up, and when he did, the little girl’s big brown eyes widened. “Da!” she said, and clapped her hands.

He didn’t know enough about a baby’s developmental milestones to know that she was speaking her first word several months ahead of schedule. All he knew was that the single word and the smile on her face completely melted his heart.

Sam had given him the precious gift of this baby girl, and somehow he had missed most of the first six months of her life. He vowed then and there to make more of an effort, to spend more time with her, to make sure she knew how much she was loved. But he was still awkward with her—she was so tiny and delicate, and he felt so big and clumsy whenever he held her. Thankfully, she was tolerant of his ineptitude, and her smiles and giggles gave him confidence and comfort.

And then, shortly after Riley’s second birthday, Brigitte made a discovery. Riley had been an early talker—not just speaking a few words or occasional phrases but in complete sentences—and she often repeated the words when the nanny read her a story. But on this particular day, Brigitte opened a book that they’d never read before, and Riley began to read the words without any help or prompting.

A few months after that, Brigitte had been playing in the music room with the little girl, showing her how she could make sounds by pressing down on the piano’s ivory keys, and Riley had quickly started to put the sounds together to make music.

Before she turned three, Riley had been examined by more doctors and teachers than Michael could count, and the results had been unequivocal—his daughter was intellectually gifted.

He was proud, of course, and more than a little baffled. As if he hadn’t struggled enough trying to relate to the tiny little person when he’d believed that she was a normal child, learning that she was of superior intelligence made him worry all the more. Thankfully, Brigitte had known what to do. She’d met with specialists and interviewed teachers and made all of the arrangements to ensure that Riley’s talents were being nurtured. And when the advertising company he and Sam had established ran into difficulties because an associate stole several key clients, Michael refocused his attention on the business, confident his daughter was in much more capable hands than his own.

It had taken a while, but the business was finally back on solid ground, Riley was happy and healthy, Brigitte was getting married and moving to Iceland, and he had a new nanny for the summer.

So why was he suddenly worried that hiring Hannah Castillo had set him upon a path that would change his life?

He didn’t want anything to change. He was content with the status quo. Maybe it wasn’t what he’d envisioned for his life half a dozen years earlier, and maybe there was an empty place in his heart since Samantha had died, but he knew that he could never fill that void. Because there would never be anyone he would love as he’d loved Sam. There was no way anyone else could ever take her place.

Each day that had passed in the years since Sam’s death had cemented that conviction. He had no difficulty turning away from the flirtatious glances that were sent in his direction, and even the more blatant invitations did nothing to stir his interest.

Then Hannah Castillo had walked into his office and he’d felt a definite stir of … something.

The morning weather reports had warned of a storm on the horizon, and he’d tried to convince himself that the change in the weather was responsible for the crackle in the air. But he knew that there was no meteorological explanation for the jolt that went through his system when he’d taken the hand she offered, no logical reason for the rush of blood through his veins when she smiled at him.

And he’d felt an uneasiness in the pit of his belly, a tiny suspicion that maybe hiring a young, attractive woman as his daughter’s temporary nanny wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.

Because as much as he’d kept the tone of the interview strictly professional, he hadn’t failed to notice that the doctor’s niece was quite beautiful. She wasn’t very tall—probably not more than five feet four inches without the two-inch heels on her feet. And while the tailored pants and matching jacket she wore weren’t provocative by any stretch of the imagination, they failed to disguise her distinctly feminine curves. Her honey-blond hair had been scraped away from her face and secured in a tight knot at the back of her head in a way that might have made her look prim, but the effect was softened by warm blue eyes and sweetly shaped lips that were quick to smile.