Love Island

Chapter 2

Zac let out a relieved sigh as the door swung shut behind the shapely ass of his would-be nanny, his relief almost immediately replaced by annoyance at his right – hand man. What was Jakes thinking? Weren't nannies supposed to be kindly gray haired ladies?

He slumped down at his desk and scrubbed a hand through his hair. As much as he wanted to blame his assistant, it was his fault, too. Jakes might have screened the résumés the agency had sent over , but if Zac had paid closer attention, taken time to have more than a five minute phone conversation with the woman his assistant had picked as the best of the bunch, he would have realized she was all wrong for the position.

Gina had been gone three years, but sharing a house— even an eight bedroom mansion with a large terrace, private pool, and four car garage — with an attractive, single woman under the age of 40 still felt disloyal to her. Especially since it was his fault she was dead.

He pushed away the guilt he'd fought like a demon every damn day for the last one thousand plus days and pressed the intercom. Before he could speak, the door cracked open and Jakes stuck his head in.

“It's customary to knock.” Zac released the button. No need for an intercom when the man you were looking for was standing right in front of you.

“It's also customary not to fire the new nanny before she starts,” Jakes shot back, entering the room fully and closing the door behind him.

“News travels fast. Book Miss Wilson on the first flight back to Atlanta and line up some more experienced candidates for me to interview.” Translation: Kind, matronly women in their fifties or sixties who smell like fresh baked cookies and read Green Eggs and Ham on demand. Zac flipped open the file for his conference call in– he checked his Patek Philippe Nautilus— five minutes, hoping Jakes would take the hint and consider the subject closed.

Instead of following his marching orders, Jakes took a seat in one of the guest chairs. So much for taking a hint. “Can I speak freely?”

Zac reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a Darth Vader PEZ dispenser. Unlike some collectors, he didn't believe in hiding his treasures on a shelf or behind a glass, with the exception of a few valuable pieces. A robot PEZ dispenser from the 1950s. A pre– 1989 batman PEZ in its original packaging, a rare Mickey mouse soft head prototype worth over seven thousand dollars.

He pulled back Darth's head, and a yellow tablet popped out. Lemon. Gina's favorite. She'd laughed at his obsession with the iconic candy, but eventually she'd come to appreciate the kitschy containers. Hell, she'd bought a good portion of them for him, including the one he held in his hand. He ran a thumb over Darth's helmet as he stuck the tablet in his mouth and sucked on it. “If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Probably not.” Jakes smirked. It was a good thing he made himself virtually indispensable, Zac would have canned his ass too.

He consulted his watch again. “You've got four minutes.”

“You're making a mistake sending Miss Wilson away.”

“You don't say?” Zac leaned back in his chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. “What makes you think that?”

Jakes hesitated, then shrugged. “Call it a gut feeling.”

Zac had a gut feeling, too, but it was telling him the more distance between him and Fatima Wilson, the better.

He dropped another candy into his mouth and tossed the dispenser onto his desk. “Forgive me if I don't trust your gut.”

“It's not like you to dismiss someone without a good cause.”