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  Blane’s Nanny

  Beverly Hills Dragons

  Meg Ripley

  Copyright © 2018 by Meg Ripley

  www.redlilypublishing.com

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, with the exception of brief quoted passages left in an online review. This book is a fictional story. All characters, names, and situations are of the author’s creation. Any resemblances to actual situations or to persons who are alive or dead are purely coincidental.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; this copy is not available for resale or to give to another reader aside from any transaction through Amazon’s e-book lending program.

  Disclaimer

  This book is intended for readers age 18 and over. It contains mature situations and language that may be objectionable to some readers.

  Contents

  Blane’s Nanny

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Preview Of Damien’s Nanny

  Chapter 1

  Snowed In With The Soldier Bear

  1. Quinton

  About the Author

  Blane’s Nanny

  Beverly Hills Dragons

  Chapter One

  BEVERLY HILLS, 1986

  Courtney Welsh slipped her sunglasses back on as she stepped out onto the deck, wondering where Blane had gone. The crowd on the yacht was thick and it was hard to find anyone she knew, much less her boss. A bronzed, shirtless guy bumped into her as he goofed off with his friend, barely apologizing before heading off down the deck. Threading her way through string bikini-clad women and men in Hawaiian print shirts, she finally found him leaning on the railing.

  Blane Vinson was quickly climbing the ranks in Hollywood, becoming one of the most in-demand actors around. Fans screamed his name when he went out in public, and celebrities clamored for invites to his lavish parties. There on his private yacht, a crowd had built up around him, but he was only paying attention to the blonde at his side. With his Wayfarers slid halfway down his nose and a smile on his face, the woman would surely be the next person to walk down the red carpet with him. Of course, Courtney knew that as soon as fans figured out this new woman’s name and started to speculate on their relationship, Blane would have moved on to someone else.

  “Mr. Vinson,” Courtney said as she approached. Most of the partygoers didn’t notice her. In a teal blouse and white high-waisted shorts, she wasn’t exactly the center of attention. But she was working, unlike everyone else there.

  Either Blane didn’t hear her, or he was ignoring her, because he carried on schmoozing with the blonde. “Well, I’m glad you like it. This boat was one of the first things I bought after I finished filming Destiny of Hearts. There’s just something so soothing about being out on the ocean, don’t you think?”

  The bimbo wiggled her body slightly as she twirled a strand of over-processed hair around her finger. “I couldn’t agree more. Wouldn’t it be nice to just spread your wings and fly out over the water?”

  Courtney rolled her eyes. She had a feeling this girl didn’t give a damn where she was, as long as she could say she was with Blane. She sighed and tried again. “Mr. Vinson, I need to speak with you for a minute.”

  Finally taking note of her, Blane turned away from the blonde and raised his eyebrows. He lifted his cocktail to his lips. “I’m kind of in the middle of something, Court.”

  “I understand, sir, but Cameron has been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon.” She was trying to keep the impatience out of her voice, but she knew she wasn’t controlling it very well. When she had signed on as a personal assistant, the agency had told her what a huge undertaking it would be. The hours were demanding, and so were celebrities. But Courtney had been convinced this was her best chance at getting her feet wet in the entertainment industry, and if she had to work, she might as well do it in the sector she was most interested in.

  Blane ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. “Excuse me,” he said to his guest before moving down the railing a bit. The crowd around him dispersed, seeing that he wasn’t interested in them at the moment. “Courtney, don’t tell me you brought your mobile phone onto the boat.”

  “Of course I did,” she replied defensively. “Although the reception here is terrible. How else do you expect me to keep up with all of your business? I’ve scheduled two auditions for you since we left the marina.”

  “But the point in being here is to relax,” Blane countered. The breeze off the water rippled the brilliant print of his shirt. “Give me that damn thing so I can throw it overboard.”

  Fortunately, Courtney had safely stowed the device in her briefcase in the cabin. “They’re a little expensive to just be turning into ocean trash.”

  “Come on.” Blane pursed his lips and shook his head. “You’re no fun.”

  “That’s my job,” Courtney reminded him. And though she knew she was getting paid well, she had to wonder how much longer she could tolerate working for him. Blane had never been easy, but it seemed the bigger he became, the more difficult he was to deal with. The fame was getting to his head—which was getting on her nerves. “Now, as I said, Cameron has been trying to get a hold of you, and—”

  A blasting sound rolled across the water. Blane and Courtney both turned to see several boats a small distance away. Some of them held teens, waving and screaming, while at least one or two others had been chartered by photographers. Long-range zoom camera lenses were pointed their direction.

  Blane raised his free hand, waving and smiling. The kids screamed their delight, and Courtney had no doubt the paparazzi were eating it up as well. There would be pictures of Blane and his yacht party plastered all over the tabloids by the end of the week, most likely with made-up headlines next to them.

  “You really shouldn’t encourage them,” Courtney muttered, keeping her face turned away from the cameras. She’d never really liked having her picture taken, and she knew these photographers had no problem getting the most mortifying angle on someone just to make a sale.

  “Which one?” He waved again, and another shout could be heard across the water.

  “Either one. People shouldn’t be able to find you so easily.” Countless times, she’d had to call the police to get rid of fans who had camped in front of his mansion, just hoping to get a glimpse of him. And the crowds that surged around him when he went out were nearly impossible to get through. If he was just a little more reckless, he probably would have shifted and gone for a flight with that girl. It was no secret that Blane, like many other celebrities, was a shifter, but still.

  Blane finally turned back to her. “You forget that they made my career. If the tabloids weren’t constantly after me, then I’d probably never have gotten some of the bigger roles I’ve had lately. And it’s the fans who keep it all going. I owe them a lot, and I think they deserve to be thrown a bone once in a while.” He drank down the last of his tequila sunrise, and a member of the staff instantly appeared with an empty tray for him to set it on.

  “You do a lot more than throw them bones,” she pointed out. “You’re too accessible, Blane. It could be dangerous.”

  “You�
�re not my bodyguard,” he reminded her with a smile, “although I think sometimes you want to be. I can take care of myself.”

  “Trust me, I’m busy enough just being your assistant. Now, can we please talk about your business with Cameron? Just because you’re taking a little time off doesn’t mean the rest of the world is.” Even as she said it, Courtney knew she would never get away with talking to her boss like that if he had been anyone other than Blane. He was spoiled and spent his money frivolously, but he was very laid-back most of the time.

  “Fine, let’s get it over with. Tell me what he wants.”

  “The schedule has changed on the set. You need to be there tomorrow at eleven instead of one.”

  “Is that it?” Blane grabbed another drink from a tray as it passed by. “I don’t even know why you’re consulting me on that.”

  She gave him a level look. “Because I know you, Blane. You’re already drinking, and the sun hasn’t even gone down yet. I need to make sure you’ll actually be there before I confirm the time change.”

  Blane shrugged. “If he needs me, then I’ll be there. I’ve never let Cameron down before.”

  But Courtney had done nothing but worry ever since Blane had agreed to star in Cameron’s next film. It was a romance flick with a bit of action, and she’d even had a chance to look over the script. She had no doubt it would be a good match for him, but she also knew Blane was lazier than usual when he thought he could get away with it. He’d been friends with Cameron for several years, and the last thing Courtney needed was to deal with yet another lawsuit over breach of contract. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”

  “Anything else? Do we need to discuss what underwear I’ll be wearing tomorrow, or can I go back to enjoying myself?”

  Courtney puffed her cheeks and let out a breath. There was no telling just how big Blane could get if he would actually apply himself instead of acting like an overgrown child. “It’s enough for now, but I do have a few other things I need to go over with you later this evening or tomorrow morning. I want to make sure the appointments I’ve set up will work for you.”

  “You should know better than that by now, Courtney. We’ve been working together for, what, two years? You make the schedule and I follow it. So let’s forget about it right now. Jane’s band is getting ready to start up, and I know Damien and Brianna are around here somewhere to see them. Go relax. Have fun. Mingle.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and headed off across the deck, probably in search of that airhead blonde again.

  As Blane had pointed out, the Villainous Ravens were just about to start their set. His sister’s band was talented, and they were rising quickly to stardom. Courtney knew Blane would probably prefer to have Steely Dan playing at his party, but at least he was generous enough to let the Ravens try out their new material in front of his guests before the tracks premiered at the club. No doubt, word would get around that all the celebrities were already big fans of their new album, and it would shoot to the top of the charts on reputation alone. Blane and his friends were powerful people, and Courtney sometimes wondered if he even knew it.

  “Hey, Courtney!” called a friendly voice nearby. Brianna. Her husband Damien, who was the director of A&R for Rising Star Records, was at her side; he had signed Jane and the Villainous Ravens onto his label. Brianna was a singing sensation with her own band, the Mixups. The two were one of the biggest power couples in the L.A. area, yet they were more down-to-earth than most bigshots. “You should come sit with us for a bit.”

  It was a nice idea, and she appreciated the fact that they wanted to include her, but Courtney didn’t have time. “I’d love to, but it looks like I need to go refill the drinks.”

  “I thought you’d hired people to do that,” Damien pointed out, his dark eyes sparkling.

  “That’s true.” Courtney spotted one of the waitresses flirting with a Don Johnson lookalike instead of doing her job. “But it looks like they need a little supervision. Maybe later.”

  She moved off across the deck to refill the punch bowl and place another case of cold beer into the tray of ice. This wasn’t technically part of her job description, but it was up to her to make sure that everything was taken care of for Blane. If that meant running his parties and ensuring that everyone had a good time, then that was just how it was. But as she stepped into the cabin to look for more napkins, she again wondered how much longer she could last.

  Courtney had her own dreams—which most definitely didn’t involve rushing around after Blane like she was his mother. When she’d graduated from high school and started junior college, she decided to pursue a degree in entertainment law. She had always loved watching court dramas and reading about investigations, but she also loved the idea of working with the stars. Even more so, she liked the idea of being the person celebrities went to for advice.

  Soon enough, Courtney had realized that continuing with school and getting that law degree wasn’t going to be cheap or easy. The part-time jobs she’d been able to hold down after class weren’t enough to pay her bills, and the chance to work as a celebrity assistant had been one she felt obligated to jump at. It would give her the chance to get hands-on experience working with the rich and famous, and that would only help build her platform for getting clients once she finally had that degree in her hand. It didn’t hurt that the pay was excellent, either.

  As she retrieved a bundle of napkins and a supply of straws from a cabinet in the kitchen, Courtney spotted an elderly gentleman sitting in the lounge area of the cabin. He stuck out from the rest of the crowd in his light gray suit and tie, but he’d still managed to attract his own small crowd. She instantly recognized him as Dan Wiseman, Blane’s attorney.

  Moving quickly, Courtney dashed back outside to the drinks table, chucked down the napkins and straws, and headed back inside. Blane invited Mr. Wiseman to almost every event that he held. It might have just been because he wanted to surround himself with as many people as possible, or because Blane liked the attention, and almost everyone who got an invite from Blane Vinson showed up. Mr. Wiseman was a much rarer sight, and Courtney felt her heart jump a little at the idea that she might actually get to sit down and talk with him. On a normal basis, she couldn’t really discuss anything more than Blane’s appointments unless she wanted to look unprofessional. This was her chance, and she couldn’t feel too bad about not calling Cameron back or checking on the status of the snack table. Blane had specifically told her to go relax, so she was just following orders.

  The cluster of people around the attorney were probably just trying to get free advice from him, and when they heard the band start up, they began filtering out the door to get a better look. Yes, this is it! Courtney had Mr. Wiseman’s phone number, but she’d never call to pick his brain; it seemed rude, and she didn’t want to abuse her connection through Blane. But encountering the man at a party was a completely different situation.

  As she approached, she tried to think of what she was going to say. Courtney couldn’t come right out and ask if he’d be willing to mentor her, and she would need that college education to really get anywhere, but maybe he could at least give her a bit of advice. Maybe Blane would let her have a day or two off a week to shadow Mr. Wiseman and see what a day in his life was like.

  She cleared her throat, ready to introduce herself in case he’d forgotten who she was. Courtney was involved in almost every aspect of Blane’s life, but she never expected anyone to remember her. Most personal assistants came and went with the seasons, and no one bothered to put names to faces. She would just remind Mr. Wiseman that they’d spoken on the phone on several occasions, and then she would see where it went from there.

  But just as she was about to put out her hand and smile, someone called her from the other side of the room.

  “Courtney? You got a pen and a piece of paper?” Blane had poked his head in the door, bringing the deafening sound of the music with him.

  Glancing at the attorney and feeling her heart sink
down into her stomach, Courtney obediently turned around to fetch her briefcase. One of these days, she would get a chance to do what she wanted. She just had to endure this for a couple more years until she’d saved up enough money to go to school. Then she could tell Blane where to stick it, and she could bask in the glory of knowing that he’d be lost without her.

  Chapter Two

  Blane rolled over and instantly regretted it. His head was full of concrete, or maybe sand, or both. Either way, it pounded against the inside of his skull with a pain that sent a jolt of nausea to his stomach with every wave. There was too much light coming in through the curtains, and even pulling his 800 thread count sheets over his head didn’t seem to help. Everything hurt, and the entire room seemed to be moving.

  He dared to crack one eyelid, sure that he had fallen asleep somewhere on the boat. The rolling of the ocean underneath him made him wonder just how far away from the shore they had drifted. But he recognized the tall ceiling and dark furniture of his own bedroom and realized he was wrong.

  It was too much work for his brain to figure out how he had gotten there, and he wasn’t entirely sure he cared anyway. He was home, and that was good enough. His mouth and throat were so dry, they felt fuzzy; his stomach churned, and his limbs were so weak that pulling up the sheets had been a monumental task. He risked rolling over in an attempt to find a more comfortable position and tried to get back to sleep.