Home > Babies for the Billionaire (The Bad Boy Billionaires #15)(3)

Babies for the Billionaire (The Bad Boy Billionaires #15)(3)
Author: Judy Angelo

She was smiling as she gathered up the stragglers and soon she had everyone seated at the table. “Fruits and vegetables first, children,” she reminded them as they unpacked their lunch kits. “If you have chips or cookies you may have them only after you’ve had your fruits.”

“Otto, did you hear what Miss Petersen said?” Magda Schmidt turned a stern eye on the little boy who was busy unwrapping a candy bar. “Please put that away. In fact, I’ll hold on to it for you.” She plucked it from his fingers. “Now let’s take a bite from one of these nice, crunchy carrot sticks. Come on, they’re good and healthy for you.”

As Anya moved around the table helping the other children unpack she bit back a smile. Didn’t Mrs. Schmidt know better? If you wanted a child to eat something the last thing you should tell him was that it was healthy.

Once everyone was settled she walked over to stand with Mary Connelly, the intern who’d joined them a month earlier. “They should be ready for their naps when we get back,” she whispered. “After all this walking they’ll be out in no time.”

“I look forward to it,” Mary said with a sigh. “I’m probably more tired than they are. Blimey, walking is hard work.”

Anya chuckled. “I know, but the school bus will be here soon. We’ll all be glad to get back and get some rest.”

No sooner did she say the words than they saw the bus rolling onto the grounds of the zoo. “Nice,” Mary said, her face beaming as she waved to the driver. “Now we can leave early.”

As soon as the children had finished their refreshments the three teachers helped them pack up and then the group headed toward the parking area where the bus driver was waiting.

“Stay in line, children,” Anya admonished. “Hold hands with your partner. Stay in line and stay safe.” It was the little rule they followed whenever they went on outings. It had worked all during the fall semester and even in winter when they’d taken the children sledding. Now that they were in the middle of May, though, something had changed. Maybe it was the bright and cheery sunshine or maybe it was the light, fragrant breeze. Today the children were as restless as puppies.

“Not that way, Vicky. You’re not a mountain goat so no rock climbing. Stay on the path, please.”

Mrs. Schmidt's stern voice did the trick. Vicky came scurrying to the front of the line to stand beside her assigned partner. They’d almost loaded all the children onto the bus when Hans, who brought up the rear, turned and spied a puppy who had pulled loose from his leash and was tearing across the grassy lawn, barking madly.

“Kleiner Hund,” he yelled and before his teachers could react he was off, dashing after the wayward terrier, waving his arms as he ran.

“Hans.” Mrs. Schmidt’s voice was sharp but either he didn’t hear her or he wasn’t going to stop just because a teacher called. He’d seen the promise of fun, far more fun than getting on a bus and heading back to school, and he wasn’t letting anything keep him from it. That much was clear.

Mrs. Schmidt, with her short legs and extra weight, would have no hope of catching the little boy. Mary looked too stunned to move but Anya set off after him, calling his name as she ran. “Hans Muller, you stop right there.”

But by then Hans had almost reached his goal. There was no stopping him now.

And then she saw it. Coming from behind one of the buildings was a golf cart, its driver deep in conversation on his cell phone. And heading straight into the buggy's path was Hans.

“Halte, Hans!” Anya’s scream ripped from her throat as she picked up speed but there was no way she could reach the boy in time. And he wasn’t stopping. And neither was the buggy.

Then before she could suck in her breath for another yell a long, lean figure broke away from the milling crowd and streaked across the grass toward the boy. In a flash he was there, lifting Hans off his feet and into the air, swinging him to safety.

Suddenly realizing what was happening, the driver dropped the cell phone and slammed on his brake, shock stamped across his face. When he saw that the child was safe he sagged with relief then shook his head at the near miss.

By that time Anya was skidding to a halt in front of the stranger holding a now kicking, screaming Hans.

“Nein,” the child yelled. “Lassen Sie mich.”

“I’ll let you go,” the man said, “as soon as you stop squirming. Stay still or you’ll hurt yourself.”

It must have been the sternness in his voice or maybe it was the sharp look in his leonine eyes but the little boy suddenly stilled, his eyes wide, and it was only then that the man lowered him to the ground.

As soon as his feet touched earth Hans turned as if to flee but Anya was there to clasp him by the shoulders and pull him close. “Hans, you could have been hurt. Why did you do that?” Sagging with relief she stooped down and turned the child to face her. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again. Do you hear me?”

As if finally realizing the seriousness of his sin Hans’s face crumpled and he began to sob and there was nothing Anya could do but gather him into her arms and comfort him. He was only a little boy, after all.

As she held him close and his shaking stilled she looked up at her charge’s rescuer and he was standing there, tall and lean, a grave look on his face as he stared down at them.

“That was a close call,” he said, his golden eyes intense. “You need to keep a close watch on your kid.”

Anya’s eyes widened and she clutched Hans tighter. The man couldn’t have said a more hurtful thing. This child in her care could have been seriously hurt and she was already consumed with guilt. But for this man, this stranger, to point it out? It was enough to fill her with shame.

Slowly, she rose to her feet and as much as it pained her she did not drop her gaze.

His eyes seemed darker now and as he looked down at her from a height that dwarfed her tall-for-a-girl five feet seven inches, his brows fell in a frown. “What the heck happened?” Contrary to what she’d thought, the way he asked the question told her he wasn’t angry. He actually sounded concerned. From his accent she could tell he was American.

“I…Hans...he saw the puppy and just ran off before we could stop him.” Involuntarily, her grip tightened on the little boy's shoulders as if to ensure he didn’t try that trick a second time. Thankfully, the puppy was long gone, which meant Hans would stay put. She hoped. “Thank you,” she said, her voice still breathless from her run. “I really appreciate what you did. I tried to catch him but…” Her voice trailed off as the fright came back full force. What if this man hadn’t come to the rescue? She couldn’t bear to think about it.

   
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