The Omega Nanny Read online

  Thomas snorted. “Fine. Connie, you were right, the omega nanny is working out marvelously.”

  Connie rolled her eyes. “Thank you, but that’s not exactly the admission I was hoping to hear.”

  Thomas sighed, did a surreptitious check on the front of his pants, and decided it was safe to depart without setting Connie’s imagination going in the correct direction. “I’m going upstairs. Goodnight.”

  “Okay,” said Connie with a shrug, as she turned to put the dishes in the drying rack away. “Oh, and Thomas? There should be plenty of cold water for a shower.”

  “Get mated,” Thomas snapped at her, and Connie gave him a salute, grinning.

  * * *

  When Thomas returned home on Tuesday, he could feel the change in the air almost immediately.

  It was small – almost imperceptible. The lights were still blazing; the house still smelled warm and welcoming. He could even hear Kieran and Jessie’s laughter pouring into the brightly-lit laundry room….

  The brightly-lit laundry room, where for the first time, someone had left the light on, anticipating his coming home.

  Thomas took off his coat and hung it up before opening the door. Kieran and Jessie worked side by side at the counters, smudges of red sauce on their faces and aprons, and the sweet smell of rising dough in the air. The sound of their laughter burst over Thomas, bright and cheerful, and twenty times as intense, and his smile was automatic as he watched them lean in together, so attuned to each other that they might not have even noticed him coming in.

  “…no, you can’t put on the pepperoni until after the cheese,” Kieran told Jessie. “But we can add the garlic now, if you want.”

  They might not have seen him – but the way Kieran glanced up made it absolutely clear that he was well aware of Thomas watching them. His entire body went still for a moment, and he bit his lower lip between his teeth as he inhaled. He looked straight at Thomas, not a hint of surprise or alarm, just… something deep and rich and Thomas recognized the longing he saw there. It was enough that Thomas wanted to reach over the countertop and run his fingers through Kieran’s curls—

  “Fa!” cried Jessie, bouncing a bit on her toes. “We’re making pizza for dinner.”

  Thomas pulled the desire into check, and tore his gaze from Kieran to look at his daughter. “I see. Giving your aunt a respite from making dinner?”

  “Connie’s at her last dress fitting,” explained Kieran. “She said she’d be back by Jessie’s bedtime. She left a frozen pizza, but I thought this would be more fun.”

  “It’s chemistry,” whispered Jessie, dramatic as always.

  “Sort of,” amended Kieran. “Anyway, it’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. We just have to finish assembling the pizzas and then put them in the oven.”

  Thomas wondered how hard it would be to slip some melatonin into Jessie’s milk. It was an excellent idea. It was probably impossible. Maybe Kieran could help? Drugging one’s child into sleep just to make out with the nanny was probably a terrible idea. Kieran could be as horrified as he’d been at Thomas’s possessive display that weekend, and run screaming into the night.

  Thomas realized that Kieran was still looking at him – presumably waiting for an answer, and Thomas couldn’t even remember being asking a question. He hoped it wasn’t about melatonin.

  “Right, sounds good,” he said, finally, and didn’t even get a look at Kieran’s face to determine if he’d said the right thing (and oh shit, what if it had been about melatonin, or worse, anchovies on pizza?). He didn’t stop moving until he closed his bedroom door and leaned against it, breathing hard.

  Alone.

  (Or almost.)

  In the house.

  With Kieran.

  (And Jessie.)

  Unsupervised.

  (Except for Jessie.)

  For the next two hours.

  (At which point Jessie would be asleep.)

  And in fifteen minutes, he was expected to go back downstairs and eat pizza.

  Thomas considered drowning himself in the shower. It’d be easier than having to face Kieran with only a six-year-old as a buffer.

  By the time he returned to the kitchen, Kieran was sliding the pizzas into the oven.

  “Here,” he said, handing Thomas the silverware. “Set the table while I make the salad.”

  “Uh,” said Thomas, flummoxed as he stared at the cutlery.

  “I’ll show you,” said Jessie kindly, taking him by the hand and leading him to the dining room.

  Thomas let Jessie show him how to lay the forks and napkins, how to fill up the glasses with water or milk, and where to find the placemats and plates. By the time they were done – Thomas hadn’t thought he was that incompetent, though Jessie seemed to have another opinion altogether – Kieran was pulling the pizzas from the oven.

  “Wash hands,” he told Jessie, and then looked up at Thomas. “You too, I think.”

  Jessie obediently trotted off to the bathroom sink. Thomas followed her.

  “Is he always this bossy?” he asked his daughter as she scrubbed her hands under the running water.

  “Yes,” said Jessie cheerfully. “But he lets me tell him how much bubble bath to put in the tub, so it evens out.”

  Thomas wasn’t sure about that math, but let it go.

  Thomas had hoped Kieran might talk to him over dinner. He was grossly mistaken. Kieran didn’t even look at him – he spent the entire dinner talking animatedly with Jessie, who was only too happy to tell him about every single detail of her day, down to which pencils she’d traded with her friend on the school playground. It would have been amusing, if Thomas had been able to stop feeling as if Kieran was deliberately avoiding any conversation with him at all.

  The only consolation was that the pizzas were definitely a step up from frozen. Jessie ate every single bite of hers, as well as half of Thomas’s, and when she scampered off to play afterwards, Kieran cleared the table while Thomas finished eating in the miserably peaceful dining room.

  “Go play with Jessie,” said Kieran briskly, when Thomas brought his plate into the kitchen. Kieran was already washing the dishes, and didn’t even look at Thomas. “I’ll get the rest.”

  Thomas listened to Kieran in the kitchen as he helped his daughter assemble another building for Jessie-ville. The sound of the running water, the clink and clank of the dishes and silverware, footsteps moving across the floor – it was all perfectly familiar, the same as it had been for six years. It might have been easier, if he could just forget that it was Kieran – if he could pretend it was Connie, and that the evening wasn’t hurtling toward a moment when it was just the two of them, without an audience.

  He couldn’t. He didn’t even want to pretend it was Connie, and not Kieran. Thomas found himself glancing at the clock, wondering when Connie would return – and almost resenting that she’d return at all, and wishing it could be like this, just the three of them, for good.

  “Fa,” groaned Jessie. “You have to fly the plane in the air.”

  “Right, sorry,” said Thomas, and obediently held the Lego plane aloft.

  He didn’t try to think again, not while Kieran swept crumbs from the kitchen floor as Thomas flew Jessie’s Lego planes in the air. Not while Kieran and Jessie snuggled on the couch, reading bedtime books as Thomas looked on. And not when Kieran gathered the little girl up and urged her up the stairs for her bath.

  It wasn’t until Thomas caught Kieran outside in the hallway as they changed places in Jessie’s room that Thomas allowed his mind to start thinking again.

  “Wait for me,” Thomas told him, and turned to help Jessie before Kieran had a chance to give him any sort of excuse. If Thomas didn’t let Kieran give an excuse for why he couldn’t wait, then Kieran would have to wait. It made perfect sense to Thomas, anyway.

  Thomas went through the motions as he sang Jessie’s lullaby, tucking the covers in around his daughter as she burrowed into them, arms wrapped around the half dozen stu
ffed animals she insisted on being in her bed. He could feel her back as she breathed, rising and falling steadily, the warmth of her body, the soft sound of her moving as she tried first one position, and then the other.

  But it was all mechanical – Thomas was thinking of Kieran, waiting for him downstairs in the kitchen. Perhaps putting on his jacket, looking at the time. Jessie’s lullaby seemed to have become impossibly long – or had Thomas accidentally sung a few of the lyrics twice over?

  The lullaby was done, but Thomas didn’t move just yet. He sat next to Jessie’s bed, watching as she fell into a deeper sleep. The room was quiet and still and a bit cool in the dark, lit only by the yellow shine of Jessie’s nightlight, the crack in the curtains where the streetlights shone in.

  Thomas stood carefully, cautious of every motion that might wake Jessie up. It wasn’t until he closed the door that he really believed she was asleep.

  Kieran would have long since left, he thought, and slowly went down the stairs, certain that when he turned at the base, where he’d have a direct line of sight into the kitchen, the room would be empty.

  Thomas turned at the base of the stairs, and saw Kieran standing at the door, on the other side of Jessie-ville, staring back at him.

  Thomas’s heart nearly pounded straight out of his chest, as if it’d grown five times its size in the space of a second. He couldn’t take his eyes off Kieran, but crossed the room, straight over the threshold into the kitchen. All the while, Kieran stared right back at him, unbreathing, unmoving, silent and watchful.

  Thomas stopped within arm’s reach of Kieran, as if the kinetic energy had run out just there. He sucked in a breath, staring at Kieran.

  Oh, God. What if this isn’t what you want?

  And Thomas had just stalked him, straight across the house, and Kieran’s expression hadn’t changed a bit. He stared up at Thomas, breathing through his open mouth, eyes wide and anxious and almost desperate with….

  “The thing is,” said Kieran, his voice trembling just enough to set Thomas’s heart racing, “I really want you to kiss me.”

  Thomas could barely breathe. Kieran reached up and rested his hand on Thomas’s chest. His eyes widened, and his gaze darted between Thomas’s chest and his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing.

  Thomas’s heart was beating hard; no doubt Kieran could feel it.

  “I can,” said Thomas. “If that’s what you want.”

  Kieran sucked in a breath, and stared up at Thomas.

  “Yes.”

  Their first kiss, the week before in the car, with the rain pelting down around them – that had been heat and fire, tension pulled tight and fast around them. They might have built up to it – and Thomas might have remembered it with flashes of longing ever since it’d happened – but it had begun and ended with such abrupt quickness that it barely felt real.

  This kiss was different.

  The touch of Thomas’s lips on Kieran’s was gentle – just a brush, fleeting and soft and smooth. Kieran’s lips were dry, and Thomas let his lips drag over them, feeling the bumps and ridges as he moved along, feeling Kieran’s warm breath at the same time that he heard the quick inhales and exhales. Kieran didn’t move except to tilt his head upward, and when Thomas opened his eyes, lips resting on the corner of Kieran’s mouth, he saw that Kieran’s eyes were closed, the lashes twined together.

  Kieran opened his eyes just a bit, and looked at Thomas before he pulled his lips into his mouth. They emerged damp.

  “Don’t stop,” he whispered, and those were the best words Thomas had ever heard in his life.

  He could have stopped – he would have stopped – but it was much, much better that Kieran didn’t want him to try.

  Thomas kissed him, and Kieran’s lips were wet against his own, soft and slippery. He didn’t open his mouth, but Thomas could feel the trembling, the tension in his jaw, and knew that Kieran wanted to, desperately. Thomas didn’t press; he licked Kieran’s lips with quick darts of his tongue; he suckled on the tender skin of his lower lip. He wrapped his arms around Kieran, pulled him up and closer into his body, feeling the warmth of Kieran’s skin blend into his own, breathing in the sugar-sharp scent of him.

  And when Kieran finally, finally opened his mouth, his tongue cautious but questing, the rush of flavors, so unlike Kieran’s scent, sent Thomas’s senses into a tailspin. Rich like cream, bitter like coffee; the combination was addictive. He ran his fingers around Kieran’s back, down over the smooth line of his coat, and finally cupped him under his buttocks, pulling him up easily until he felt Kieran’s legs wrap around his waist. Kieran let out a soft gasp of surprise as Thomas’s fingers slid easily over the dip in his jeans, where the cleft of his ass was covered.

  Kieran made a soft, yearning sound in his throat, and pulled back – just enough to break the kiss, just enough to make Thomas’s heart stutter in his chest. But Kieran’s arms were around his shoulders, holding him tight, and when Thomas looked into his eyes, there was not so much fear to be seen there as—

  Uncertainty.

  Slowly, Thomas let Kieran slide back down, until his feet touched the floor. But the worry didn’t leave Kieran’s face, and his fingers gripped Thomas’s shoulders even harder than before.

  Thomas’s heart ached – other parts of him were in even more dire straights. But Kieran’s breaths were shallow, his eyes wide and anxious, and he trembled in Thomas’s arms.

  There was a deep growl from the garage door as it opened. Connie, coming home at last, and with her predictable terrible timing. He screwed his eyes closed tight, and tried to breathe normally.

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  Another minute, and she’d be inside. Thomas would be damned if he let the tension remain between he and Kieran before that happened, though. He had to swallow twice before he found his voice.

  “Go home,” he said, gently, and brushed a kiss over Kieran’s temple.

  “I—”

  “Not now,” said Thomas, and moved his arms so that they no longer circled Kieran, though his hands rested gently on his shoulders.

  The laundry room door opened a moment later, just as Thomas dropped his hands and stepped away from Kieran, breathing hard.

  “Why is everyone on the road tonight, it’s Tuesday,” said Connie, her voice bright and giggly in a way that made Thomas’s heart sink. “They should all be at home in bed. Kieran. You’re still here! I drove sooooo slowly, I thought I’d miss you.”

  “You shouldn’t have been driving at all,” said Thomas, turning around. He didn’t look at Kieran; instead he looked at his sister. “How was the dress fitting?”

  “Lovely,” said Connie. “Brent may never recover.”

  “Mmm. And dinner afterward?”

  “Delicious.” Connie leaned toward Kieran and spoke in a stage whisper. “I had a little bit of wine to drink.”

  “Couldn’t tell,” said Kieran, deadpan, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

  “All right, up to bed,” he said gently, and reached for his sister’s arm. “Kieran, wait. I’ll drive you home.”

  Kieran began to shake his head and zip up his jacket. “No, it’s fine, I can—”

  “Wait,” said Thomas, somehow not surprised when it came out a growl.

  But Kieran paused – and unzipped his coat, stepping back to the window. “All right,” he said, as if he hadn’t tried to argue in the first place, and Thomas shoved back the urge to apologize, and instead, helped Connie up to her room.

  The stairs were enough to smack some amount of sobriety back into Connie, but she didn’t resist Thomas as he propelled her to her bedroom. Instead, she scrutinized him, as if trying to determine his species and genus.

  “You look different,” she said, thoughtfully.

  “You’re tipsy,” said Thomas, and pulled out a set of pajamas for her.

  “But not blind. You might be, though.” Connie took the pajamas and frowned at them. “Do I have to wear these after we’re married?”
/>   “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that,” said Thomas.

  “Do you know who would fit in these? Kieran would fit in these. It’s very late, Thomas, you should both just stay home. He can sleep… somewhere.”

  Thomas sighed. “Connie….”

  Connie reached up and patted Thomas’s cheek. “Go get ‘im, alpha.”

  Thomas rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

  This time, Thomas didn’t hesitate at the top of the stairs. He went straight down, unflagging in his belief that Kieran would be waiting for him.

  But this time – Kieran was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  “Thomas,” said Nora, chidingly. She looked up from her desk with a pleased smile on her face. “You’ve been avoiding me. I haven’t seen you all week.”

  Thomas held up a paper bag dotted with grease. “I know. I’m sorry. I brought French fries to make up for it.”

  Nora grinned and pushed back from her desk. “In that case, come right on in. Shall I make coffee?”

  “Later,” said Thomas. He’d need it, later, when the exhaustion began to seep into his thought process – but for now, the greasy hamburger and fries would do.

  “Where have you been keeping yourself all week?” asked Nora as she pulled a stack of paper napkins from a drawer, as well as two bottles of water.

  “It’s only Wednesday!” Thomas protested, but only because in a way, Nora was right. He had been avoiding her – or at least not actively seeking her out.

  It was strange, in a way, not stopping in to see Nora on a daily basis. He’d bought the second hamburger and fries on a whim, but stood outside her door for a few minutes before knocking, wondering why he felt guilty for buying a friend lunch.

  It didn’t mean anything. It was just lunch.

  “Usually you’ve drunk half my coffee supply by now,” Nora said, almost scolding. She sat down opposite him. “I was beginning to think you’d replaced me with Starbucks.”

  Heaven forbid, said Felicity. Thomas ignored her.

  “Only in dire emergencies,” Thomas promised Nora. Besides, it was highly likely that Cameron would kill him if she caught him in a Starbucks; she’d probably see it as cheating on Kieran.