Nanny Wanted
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About this ebook
Elly George, CEO of her own personnel training academy, Gold Staff, in Melbourne, offers to mind her godchild while her best friend is in hospital after an accident. When she realises she cannot work and cope with a baby, she hires Rusty Webster, an Environmental Engineer and part time nanny for his sister's Angel Care agency.
Living together in her penthouse apartment, attraction and romance blossom. But Elly isn't in the market for a husband. Her career is her life and she believes she is not maternal so she resists him. Divorced Rusty comes from a large family, wants a wife and kids of his own, and is determined to succeed second time around.
When Rusty leaves for his work in the Northern Territory, Elly misses him and fears she has lost her chance for love yet when he returns and proposes, her confusion mounts. Needing her career and not necessarily children, she refuses. Can Elly overcome her doubts and take a risk on happiness, and will Rusty change her mind?
Noelene Jenkinson
As a child, I was always creating and scribbling. The first typewriter I used was an old black Remington in an agricultural farming office where my father worked. I typed letters to my mother and took them home. These days, both my early planning and plotting, and my first drafts, I write sometimes by hand on A4 notepads or directly onto my laptop, constantly rewriting as I go. I have been fortunate enough to have extensively travelled but have lived my whole life in the Wimmera plains of Victoria, Australia. I live on acreage in a passive solar designed home, surrounded by an Australian native bush garden. When I'm not in my office writing (yes, I have a room to myself with a door - every author's dream), I love reading, crocheting rugs, watercolour painting and playing music on my electronic keyboard.
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Nanny Wanted - Noelene Jenkinson
Chapter 1
Elly George jiggled her wailing eight month old goddaughter as she paced her Melbourne penthouse apartment.
She glanced through the wall of windows at the sweeping cityscape views. The thin landmark spire of the Arts Centre that pierced the blue morning sky like a mesh needle. Green and yellow trams clattering along St. Kilda Road toward the city and across the Princes Bridge over the sluggish waters of the Yarra River that wound their way through the city and out into Port Phillip Bay.
The outside world seemed so detached and serene compared to the emotional upheaval in here. She turned her attention back to the baby, feeling helpless and incompetent. Compared to this, running her own company was a breeze. She’d left the hospital only hours before blissfully ignorant of the demands of minding a child.
‘Molly, honey, you’re a full time job.’ Elly contemplated the sweet red face and damp cheeks in despair.
At the sound of her godmother’s voice, the squirming red-faced bundle stopped for a millisecond, her dark curly hair framing a tiny trusting face, her dusky eyelashes beaded with moisture.
Elly’s office hours were hectic and loaded with the unexpected, but nothing she couldn’t handle and nothing like this. She had tried bottles, the child’s dummy and lots of cuddles but nothing worked. Molly remained inconsolable.
Not surprising when she had been suddenly wrenched from her mother and everything familiar. As a result, Elly’s morning had deteriorated from chaotic to desperate. Finally, conceding she didn’t have a single motherly gene in her body and unable to cope, she knew a decision had to be made. Fast.
That’s when Plan B had entered her head. A nanny. Keeping the thought of Molly’s welfare uppermost in her mind, Elly reminded herself this was an emergency and the phone call was a last resort. She took a deep calming breath, hitched the baby higher on her hip and pressed the rarely dialled number of her mother’s legal chambers.
‘Emmanuelle.’ Her mother’s cultured voice eventually echoed in her ear. ‘It’s been too long but we’re all so busy, aren’t we?’
Elly crushed the disappointment that her parents’ lives had always revolved around work in preference to family.
‘Mother, I’m minding Molly and-’
‘Molly who?’ she snapped.
‘Molly Golding. Rachel’s daughter.’ She paused. ‘My best friend from school,’ she reminded her, exasperated.
‘Of course,’ her mother drawled with unconcealed contempt. ‘The single mother on social welfare. But why on earth are you minding her?’
‘Rachel was in a car accident this morning.’ She wondered if even that bad news would capture her mother’s apathetic attention.
‘Oh. How inconvenient for you. Couldn’t someone else have taken it?’
Her neglect in not asking after Rachel’s condition filled Elly with anger. ‘Not it, Mother. She. Molly’s a girl. And I offered to mind her. You know Rachel’s parents live in Perth. She has no one here. I couldn’t let her down.’
‘How long must you have her?’ came her mother’s pained voice as if Elly was asking her to mind the child herself.
‘Ten days to a fortnight.’
‘How can you possibly hope to succeed in your business burdened with a child?’
Strange, after almost a decade of hard work, she thought she’d already succeeded. She flinched in the wake of the careless retort but let it pass.
‘And you know nothing about children,’ Louise stressed unkindly.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mother. Neither do you.
Elly inhaled another deep breath. ‘I can learn. Meanwhile,’ she continued crisply, ‘a legislation of Canberra businessmen and ambassadors has arrived early and are waiting in my office as we speak. They weren’t due for three hours so they’ve created an emergency. Against my better judgment, I’m hiring a nanny and I’d appreciate your recommendation of the best agency.’
‘A sensible decision.’ Her mother’s voice crooned with silky pleasure. ‘I know just the one.’
Elly heaved a grateful sigh but felt a niggling sense of guilt over not being able to manage Molly herself. Her mother was droning on.
‘I can’t believe you’re going to so much trouble and expense just for the sake of someone else’s child. Top nannies cost.’
Elly cringed with shame that such careless words were uttered from her own mother’s mouth.
‘I can assure you mother, it’s no trouble.’ Elly smiled down at the wide-eyed angel in her arms, staring up at her with innocent waterlogged almond eyes. ‘And hang the expense. It’s a privilege. The name of the agency please?’
There was a loaded pause. ‘Angel Care,’ she announced proudly, as though she’d just donated a substantial sum to charity.
‘The best?’
‘Would I ever recommend anything else?’ Her mother sounded piqued. She relayed the telephone number and address then, without drawing breath, said, ‘I must go, Emmanuelle. I have two calls on hold and clients waiting.’
As soon as she hung up, Elly swiftly dialled the nanny agency. She explained her urgent situation to a coordinator named Julie, praying she could help.
‘For 24/7 care Miss George, I’d recommend a live in nanny.’ Elly’s shoulders sagged in relief. Julie addressed her barrage of questions, then added with calm reassurance, ‘Our staff are carefully screened and selected. We provide a top quality service.’
Elly was relieved to hear it for she would accept nothing less for Molly.
‘Since it’s an emergency,’ Julie’s professional voice continued, ‘I’ll send someone around to your apartment within the hour.’
Elly felt optimistic she could survive for another sixty minutes.
Carrying Molly and working single handed, one armful at a time, she transferred the child’s mountain of paraphernalia from the tiled entry foyer where she had dumped it hours earlier after their arrival home from the hospital, into one of the two spare bedrooms.
Then she tried sitting Molly on her own bedroom floor so she could change clothes ready for work but the wailing recommenced so Elly scooped her up again. If comfort and cuddles were the only solution, then that’s how it would be.
She shook her head and embraced a whole ton of respect for mothers everywhere. Her heartstrings tugged at Molly’s distress. Instant motherhood was a steep learning curve.
Sixty-five minutes later, Elly anxiously marched around the apartment still nursing Molly. ‘She’s coming.’ Surely she couldn’t be far away?
Even as she spoke, the classical melody of her doorbell chimed. Elly strode across her apartment to the hall and checked the peephole.
She groaned at the sight of a tall raven-haired man carrying an official-looking black briefcase. A door-to-door salesman at this hour? How had he passed security? And why did companies always send such Greek gods to sell their products? A marketing strategy?
Firmly clutching Molly, she jerked open the door with her free hand, deciding firstly to get rid of this stranger fast and secondly to complain to the management because he had passed security in the first place.
‘Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.’ Elly tried slamming the door in the caller’s rather handsome suntanned face but he jammed his foot in the narrowing gap.
‘Mrs. George?’
The voice was deep and educated and calm. And knew her? His confidence threw Elly off balance until a tweak of suspicion eased into her mind. He couldn’t be! But for good measure she checked.
‘And you are?’
‘Rusty Webster. I’m from Angel Care.’
Elly curbed her surprise and almost dropped Molly. A male nanny? Well, this was the 21st century but weren’t they usually younger? This guy had to be on the scary side of thirty.
He extended a large hand. Still stunned by his appearance when she’d been expecting a female, Elly accepted it, vaguely aware of its size and warmth covering hers.
‘And this will be Molly?’
He gazed warmly across at her and slid a finger into the child’s tiny hand. Molly gripped it tight. Webster’s lopsided smile was wide and genuine, revealing perfect teeth. The child grew still in her arms, staring wide-eyed at their visitor.
‘Correct,’ Elly said with cool reserve.
He was utterly unruffled as her critical gaze of inspection skimmed him up and down. His longish black wavy hair almost touched his shoulders, was neatly styled but needed a decent cut, and dark twinkling eyes measured her in return.
A padded sandy-coloured jacket and trousers covered his well-built frame over a black crew shirt, its long sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing strong hair-dusted arms. His black loafers gleamed. Elly endured a twinge of irritation that she found nothing to criticize.
‘Well, Mr. Webster,’ she said ungraciously, ‘I suppose you had better come in.’
With pleasure, Rusty noticed that his potential employer equalled his height and looked directly into his eyes. Rather chilly blue eyes. He bet they could sparkle with fun if she wanted.
Even carrying a child, she took long easy strides and moved with a swift lithe grace. A classy woman but then his occasional temporary