Читать книгу A Nanny In The Family - Catherine Spencer - Страница 7
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
“WELL, you’ve finally come back!”
Still blinded by the sun’s glare, it took Nicole a moment or two to discern the owner of the amused voice that greeted her when she and Tommy returned to the library.
She squinted at the figure reclining in one of two leather wing chairs beside a fireplace heaped with dried peony blossoms. “Were we gone very long?”
“Pierce is about ready to call out the National Guard.” The woman was elegantly thin and quite startlingly beautiful. “Being thrust into instant fatherhood has made him very nervous. He’s afraid you’ve kidnapped the boy.”
“I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“Oh, you didn’t worry me,” the woman assured her. “But Pierce is taking his guardianship responsibilities very seriously and seems to feel he has to be on patrol twenty-four hours a day. Are you going to take the job?”
“If it’s offered to me, yes.”
“I’m sure it will be.” The woman ran a speculative hazel gaze over Nicole, from her head to her toes and back again. “You certainly have my vote.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. You’ve got that look of durability about you that the job requires, although you do dress somewhat more stylishly than I’d have thought suitable.” She yawned delicately. “Better you than me, is all I can say.”
“You don’t care for children?” Nicole asked, feeling a bit like a Clydesdale horse being assessed for working stamina.
“Of course I do—at a distance. But I certainly don’t want them planting their sticky little paws all over my good clothes. I’d look out for that rather nice skirt, if I were you. It won’t last half an hour in this place.”
“I see.” Protective instincts on full alert, Nicole drew Tommy to her and stroked his hair. “Where is the Commander?”
“Having a word with Miss Janet. We won’t be here for dinner, which I daresay will displease her no end.”
“I see,” Nicole said again, not at all sure she liked what she was, in fact, seeing. From her expression and tone, it was clear the woman cared for Janet about as much as she cared for children, which wasn’t much.
The silence which ensued might have grown a little awkward had it not been broken by the sound of footsteps marching down the hall. A moment later, the Commander reappeared.
“Oh, here you are, sweets.” The woman rose up in a swirl of rose-patterned silk and went to meet him, chucking Tommy under the chin as she passed by. She was tall, perhaps five feet nine or ten, most of which seemed apportioned to her legs, which were enviable. “Your Nanny’s come back and our little boy’s quite safe, aren’t you, Thomas?”
The Commander smiled tightly. “It never occurred to me he wasn’t, Louise. I take it you’ve introduced yourself to Miss Bennett?”
“Not formally.” Louise slipped her arm through his and fluttered her long lashes. “But we’ve chatted and I think she’ll be wonderful for the job, Pierce. You can see already how taken she is with Thomas and he with her.”
“I agree.” Detaching himself from the thin fingers clutching at him, he gestured to Tommy. “Will you take him to the playroom for a few minutes, while I conclude matters with Miss Bennett?”
The ghost of a grimace soured Louise’s smile. “If you promise not to take too long. I’m presenting an offer on the Willingdon property at four and have another showing at five.”
“Ten minutes,” he said, and waited until she’d taken Tommy away before turning to Nicole. “Well, Miss Bennett, are you still interested in becoming a nanny?”
“Absolutely, Commander Warner. Tommy is delightful.”
He nodded and strode behind the desk. “Good. Then the job’s yours if the terms I’ve laid out here are agreeable to you.”
He handed her a contract which, for appearances’ sake, she pretended to scrutinize. In fact, she’d have worked for nothing if that’s what he’d asked, but the salary he was proposing to pay her was generous in the extreme.
“This is more than satisfactory, Commander,” she said, deciding that most of what she earned would go into a trust fund for Tommy.
“Then we have a deal.” He scrawled his name at the bottom of the page, then offered the pen to her. When she’d signed, he reached out to shake her hand again, another brief, businesslike clasp such as he’d offered when she’d first met him. “I’ll expect you tomorrow morning. Will ten o’clock suit you?”
“Actually,” she said, trying not to sound overeager, “I can start tonight, if you like. Your friend mentioned that you were dining out and I’d be happy to baby-sit.”
He looked pleasantly surprised. “Thank you. I’m sure Janet will appreciate having the evening off.”
“Then I’ll go and collect my things.” Nicole flicked a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I have a few odds and ends to take care of, but I can be back here by six.”
“Thank you again. I’ll warn Janet to expect you for dinner and leave her to show you to your suite of rooms.”
“Fine.” She picked up her bag from where she’d left it on the floor next to the desk. “I’ll see you later, Commander.”
She walked demurely along the hall and out through the front door. Climbed into her car, drove sedately down the driveway, and waited until the house was hidden behind a belt of trees before giving vent to the pent-up sigh of relief that was stretching her lungs to bursting.
She was home free! Provided she could keep her grief under wraps, the rest would be easy. Once she’d allayed any fears her employer might have regarding her motives, she could erase the lies and half-truths by which she’d gained access to Tommy and present herself for who she really was: his dead mother’s long-lost sister.
In the meantime, she had shopping to do. She’d come with party clothes, the sort of things a woman packed when she thought she was embarking on a holiday reunion. Sandals, sundresses, cocktail gowns. Beaded bags and diamond studs, spindle heels and sheer silk lingerie. And Pierce Warner’s lady friend was right: such a wardrobe no more fit the role of nanny than that of coffee shop waitress.
She needed clothes to fit the part. Denim skirts and trim white blouses. Cotton shorts and tops. Flat-heeled sandals and a plain bathrobe to replace the French silk peignoir lurking in the bottom of her suitcase.
The only things she didn’t need to acquire were a bottomless well of sympathy, an endless supply of tears, of love, of gut-wrenching pity. Those she already had in abundance. She could only hope they’d be enough.
“Pierce, that’s the fourth time you’ve looked at your watch in the last fifteen minutes and I’m beginning to feel neglected.”
“Sorry.” He drummed up a smile and touched his glass to Louise’s in a toast. “I didn’t realize I was being so obvious.”
“Sweetness, the woman is clearly as trustworthy as Mother Teresa. She was practically drooling all over Thomas when they came back from the beach and he seemed just as enthralled with her. It’s obviously a match made in heaven.”
“I agree. It’s the reason behind her being hired that I’m having a tough time coming to grips with. It just hasn’t sunk in yet that Jim and Arlene won’t be coming back.”
“I know. I can’t believe it, either.”
He shook his head, impatient with himself. “Death doesn’t get any easier to accept. I’m still haunted by that kid I lost on my last deployment. Now losing Jim, too—” He bowed his head, his chest aching. “I feel so bloody helpless.”
Louise shifted closer on the banquette until her knee was rubbing against his and her breast nudged his arm. “Pierce, stop it! That seaman’s death was no more your fault than your cousin’s accident was. Sadly, these things happen sometimes but the best thing we can do is go on with our lives. And, sweetie, you’ve become very much a part of mine. You do know that, don’t you?”
She increased the pressure on his arm, reminding him that she had very nice breasts indeed, and looked at him from eyes grown heavy-lidded with promise. He felt his own flesh tightening in response and suddenly wished they were alone instead of in a restaurant, and that he could lose himself inside her. Perhaps then he would forget, if only for a few minutes, the picture of Jim and Arlene as they’d looked when he’d gone to identify the bodies.
“How hungry are you, Louise?”
They’d become lovers about a month ago and she knew exactly what prompted the question. “Starving,” she purred, rolling her martini olive into her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “But not for chateaubriand. Let’s go, Pierce.”
She lived about half a mile from him, in a house she’d spent a small fortune renovating. Everything about it, from its marble-floored entry to the gold faucets in her bathroom to the dozen or so water candles arranged around her bed, reflected her sybaritic tastes. “There are glasses and champagne chilling,” she cooed, nodding at the bar refrigerator concealed in the lacquered wall unit at one end of her bedroom. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
He opened the champagne, stood it in a bucket of ice, then lit six of the candles. Strolling to the window, he loosened his tie and checked his watch one more time. Almost twenty-one hundred hours. Was Tom settled for the night? Should he phone to make sure everything was going smoothly with the new nanny?
She was a pretty little thing and seemed capable enough. Not that the two were related, but it seemed to him that it would be easier for a kid of four to take to someone who looked a bit like his mother than it would to someone old enough to be his grandmother.
Not that the dark-haired, dark-eyed Miss Bennett bore much resemblance to Arlene, who’d been blond. But they were about the same age and of similar height and build. Though perhaps the nanny weighed a couple of pounds less—about a hundred and ten, he figured, and they hung remarkably well on her five foot, five inch frame.
“Why, Pierce, here I am all ready to be seduced and you haven’t even gotten around to removing your shoes!”
Louise swanned back into the room, half dressed in one of those floating negligee things that revealed more than it covered and which he’d previously seen only on posters pinned up in lockers aboard ship. All he had to do was tug lightly on the piece of ribbon holding it closed and the whole contraption would slide down around her feet. The thought, coupled with the amount of exquisite ivory flesh already on display, should have left him straining for release.
It didn’t.
“I’ll pour the champagne,” he said, and knew, from the way she flounced over to the bed and spread herself out against the pillows, that she was disappointed by his delaying tactics.
“Aren’t you going to join me, darling?” she pouted, accepting her glass of champagne. “It’s lonely in this big old bed without you.”
Before he could stop himself, he glanced again at his watch.
“It’s only five past nine, Pierce,” she protested, sighing audibly. “No one’s going to report you AWOL if you stay out another hour or two.”
She was ticked off and he couldn’t blame her. “Sorry,” he said yet again, dropping down beside her on the bed and stuffing a pillow behind his head. She was the only woman he’d ever met who actually used satin sheets. He found them very slippery.
“You’re forgiven.” She smiled, a lazy, sexy smile, and leaned over to unbutton his shirt. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
Her hands were cool and very skillful. Were the nanny’s? Would she handle Tom gently when she lifted him out of his bath?
He shook his head irritably. Of course she would! She was a nurse, for Pete’s sake!
“Come back, sweetness,” Louise whispered, raking her long fingernails over his chest with just enough pressure to indicate she didn’t care for his preoccupation.
“Hey,” he said, trapping her hand, as a thought occurred to him, “is the phone turned on in here? I mean, if anyone wanted to get hold of me, would they be able to get through?”
“Pierce,” she said, on another long-suffering sigh, “I’m in real estate. Have you ever known my phone not to be turned on?”
“No,” he admitted wryly. They’d been in the middle of making love for the first time when she’d received a call from a client wishing to view a house she’d just listed. Apart from being a touch out of breath throughout the conversation, she’d managed to set up the appointment without missing a beat. He hadn’t known whether to be flattered or insulted.
“Then why.” she said now, “don’t you just relax and make us both enjoy ourselves?”
She had the most delicious legs this side of a chorus line. A man would have to be dead not to respond to the lure of them. “Right,” he said, taking her glass and placing it beside his own on the night table. “We’ve wasted enough time on small talk.”
“Thank God you finally got the message,” she breathed, leaning forward to touch his nipple with her tongue. “Take your pants off, Pierce, darling. Although I love a man in uniform, a charcoal lounge suit doesn’t do a whole lot for me at a time like this.”
Her hands slid to the buckle of his belt, adding urgency to her request. It should have been enough to trigger the response she was seeking. Tonight, it wasn’t—a fact she’d discover for herself soon enough.
Cupping her face, he kissed her with great determination. Her lips were lush as ripe strawberries. Her skin smelled of Paris, very chic, very French—as it should, considering the imported hand-milled soap she used and the perfume specially brought in for her by Marshall Fields in Chicago. Her hair, a rich red-gold, glowed like a flame. Unfortunately, none of the aforementioned set him on fire.
Finally, he pulled away, took her hands in his and held her at a distance. “We’re trying too hard, Louise.”
“Why, Pierce,” she murmured, pouting again. “Have I lost my touch?”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, his glance sliding yet again to his watch. “I’ve got too many things on my mind right now.”
“And I’m obviously not one of them.” She drained her glass, clearly annoyed.
He could hardly blame her. They were in her bed at his suggestion, after all. “Let me just call home,” he began. “Once I know—”
“Oh, forget it!” She flounced off the bed and splashed more wine into her glass. “Frankly, you’re not the only one no longer in the mood. Good night, Pierce. Call me when you get your act together.”
There was a light showing at the nanny’s bedroom window when he got home. Treading softly so as not to disturb Tom, who’d been sleeping very restlessly all week, Pierce stopped outside her door, surprised to see it standing ajar. He’d assumed she was in bed already but she sat instead in the little sitting room that faced the back of the house and looked out to sea.
She wore a long blue dressing gown and had white furry slippers on her feet. Her dark brown hair hung around her shoulders in soft waves, and her face was scrubbed clean of what little makeup she’d worn earlier. She was reading a letter and several others lay in her lap. She held a steaming cup in one hand.
Suddenly, she glanced up and did a double take when she found herself being watched. He saw then that she’d been crying.
“Sorry,” he muttered, pushing the door open a little farther. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just got home and wondered how you’d managed with Tom. You seem upset. Did he give you a hard time?”
“No,” she said, making an effort to compose herself. “It’s not that at all. He was as good as gold.”
He shrugged helplessly. He never quite knew what to do with weeping women; they weren’t too common on board a naval destroyer. “Well, if it’s not Tom, then what? Are you having second thoughts about the job?”
“No.” Setting her cup on the table in front of her, she fished a wad of tissues from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. She was silent for so long that he thought the conversation had come to an end when she seemed to reach a decision of some sort and spoke again. “I think, Commander Warner, that there’s something you ought to know.”
“I’m listening,” he said, bracing himself. She had a look about her that spelled trouble.
She plucked a fresh tissue from the box at her elbow and blew her nose. “I haven’t been exactly truthful, I’m afraid.”
It wasn’t exactly the sort of news he appreciated hearing! Pretty direct himself, he hadn’t much use for people who weren’t equally up-front in their dealings. “In what respect, Miss Bennett?”
“Well...” She stopped and chanced a quick glance at him.
He held her gaze relentlessly. “Please continue.”
Her chin wobbled dangerously. “Recently, I... suffered...um...um....”
What? he was tempted to bark at her. A spell in prison for child abuse? A nervous breakdown? A malpractice suit for dereliction of duty?
“Something happened,” she said, and dropped her gaze to the letters in her lap.
Of course! She’d received a Dear John—or was it a Dear Jane for a woman? Either way, he thought he’d figured out what had brought on the tears. He’d seen it happen before enough times to recognize the symptoms. Otherwise fearless men brought to their knees by a one-page letter telling them they were history in some woman’s life.
“So that’s why you left Minnesota,” he said.
She looked up him, her dark brown eyes wide and startled. “What?”
“You wanted to make a fresh start.”
“Yes,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “But I’d already decided to do that before...”
The waterworks were about to start again. “Before he broke your heart,” he finished for her, deciding a quick, clean cut was kinder than letting her linger in misery.
She continued to stare at him as if she thought he was slightly mad. “No. Someone in my family died.”
“Oh,” he said, and then, insensitive clod that he was, added, “I assumed some guy had dumped you.”
She gave a watery laugh at that. “No, nothing quite that simple, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Bennett, I didn’t mean to make light of your loss.”
A fresh load of tears sparkled in her eyes. “My emotions are very close to the surface right now.”
“I fully appreciate that.” Uninvited, he advanced into the room and perched on the windowsill. “What can I do to make things easier for you?”
She shook her head, which was enough to send the tears flying down her cheeks. “Nothing.”
Should he lend a shoulder for her to cry on? Pat her back? Stroke her pretty hair and murmur words of comfort?
The thought stirred him more thoroughly than his earlier bedroom encounter with Louise. Hurriedly, he handed over a fresh tissue and wished he’d waited until the morning to have this conversation. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
“Herbal tea,” she said. “I thought it might help me sleep. I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home in the kitchen.”
“Not in the least, but how about a shot of brandy instead?”
“No, thank you. I don’t drink much.”
“That’s good,” he said. A closet tippler was the last thing he—or Tom—needed! “It might not be a bad idea to make an exception just this once, though. In fact, I could use a drink myself.”
Before she could raise further objections, he stuffed another tissue in her hand and made his escape. On his way downstairs, he poked his head into Tom’s room. He was fast asleep. From behind her door, Janet’s rhythmic snoring told him all was well on that front, also.
By the time he returned to the nanny’s room, she’d got the tears under control. Even though her eyes had a bruised look about them, she managed to drum up a smile.
“Here,” he said, offering her the snifter. “Down the hatch with this and you’ll sleep like a baby, I promise.”
She took a sip and grimaced. “I do apologize, Commander Warner. I’m not usually such an emotional mess.”
“Why didn’t you say something this afternoon? Did you think I’d reject your application, because you’ve suffered a family bereavement?”
She hesitated before replying and he thought an expression of near-guilt crossed her face, but it was such a fleeting thing that he couldn’t be sure. “Private details don’t belong in interviews,” she said finally.
“They do sometimes, especially if they affect a person’s ability to cope with her duties.”
“Oh, I won’t allow that to happen!” she exclaimed, a flush of alarm tinting her pale face. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize Tommy’s well-being.”
She looked so earnest, and so damned soft and appealing that he was startled to find himself again inclined to draw her into his arms and comfort her. To preclude any such action, he downed the rest of his brandy, stood up to leave, and said, “I believe you, Miss Bennett.”
“Do you? Really?”
“Every word.”
Why didn’t she look reassured at that? What caused her to gnaw uneasily on her lip, as though he’d handed her a gift she didn’t deserve?
“Look,” he said, “I understand only too well the void left behind when someone dies but the only way to get past it is to go forward, because standing still and looking back at what we’ve lost is just too painful.”
She got up from the chair and pressed her hands together. He noticed they were every bit as fine and soft as he’d expected them to be. “You’re right. Thank you, Commander. I swear you won’t regret entrusting Tommy to my care.”
“I don’t expect to. Good night, Miss Bennett.”
He’d turned away and was almost at the door when she stopped him with one last request. “Won’t you please call me Nicole?”
Strange, the effect the request had on him. There was something forlorn in her voice that told him more clearly than anything she’d actually put into words that she was hurting badly and fighting with every ounce of grit she could muster to cope with the pain.
“Nicole,” he echoed, hearing the cadence of her name on his tongue and liking how it sounded.
Embarrassed to find himself staring into her eyes as if he’d been hypnotized, he cleared his throat and said brusquely, “Well, if we’re dropping the formalities and I suppose, since you’re more or less part of the family now, we might as well, I’m Pierce.”
“Yes.” She smiled a little. “The name suits you.”
Instinct told him not to ask, but curiosity got the better of him. “How so?”
“Everything about you is very direct. A woman knows where she stands with you and I admire that in a man.”
There were a few things he admired about her, too. Her hair, for instance, and the classic oval of her face. And her long, dark lashes. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d washed or wept away her makeup, he might have thought they were false or coated with eye shadow, or whatever it was women put on them for effect. In any event, they added drama to her already lovely eyes.
But it was more than just her face that he found appealing, he admitted, allowing his gaze to roam over the rest of her. She had the sort of slight build that brought a man’s protective urges to the fore. Her waist was narrow as a child’s, her hips a mere suggestion beneath the blue dressing gown, and her breasts ... were none of his concern.
He cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, good night, Nicole.”
“Good night, Pierce.”
“Sleep well.”
“I’ll try.”
Shutting the door after him, Nicole leaned against it and let out a slow breath of relief. How could she have come so close to blowing her cover, knowing as she did what she had to lose by doing so? The thing was, he’d caught her in a moment of weakness and that, combined with his sympathy, had almost undone her.
She’d realized her mistake at once. There’d been no misinterpreting his wariness at the idea of her having lied. Quite how he’d have reacted if she’d finished what she’d started to say didn’t bear thinking about. She’d probably be packing her bags by now.
It was just as well that, after all, she’d chosen to ignore her mother’s warning when they’d spoken on the phone earlier.
“You’re not thinking straight,” Nancy Bennett had sighed, when Nicole unfolded her plan. “You went to Oregon expecting to reunite with a sister you’d lost touch with years ago, only to find you’d lost her all over again—permanently, this time—and the whole tragedy is taking its toll on you. Come clean now, honey, before the lies trip you up.”
At first, she’d been inclined to heed the advice but Tommy had changed her mind. Confronted by Pierce’s sympathy and with the truth practically trembling on her lips, she’d had a sudden memory flash of the evening she and the child had spent together and made a split-second choice: being with him was worth any amount of deception.
They’d bonded instantly, the way an aunt and nephew should. Everything about him enchanted her—his speech, his four-year-old mannerisms, his curiosity and trust. She loved how he prefaced almost every remark to her with her name.
“Nicole?” he’d said, as they sat at dinner.
“Yes, darling?”
“Are you going to live here tonight?”
“Yes, darling,” she’d said, mopping up the small puddle of milk he’d spilled. “And tomorrow night, as well.”
“Oh.” He’d regarded her from big eyes, and digested that bit of information with the last of his macaroni cheese. “Nicole?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Will you sleep with Uncle Pierce?”
She’d almost choked on her own food at that. “No, Tommy.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have my own bed in my own room.”
“Mommy sleeps with Daddy.”
Oh, precious, I hope so! I hope wherever they are that they’re together and that they know I’ll keep you safe for them. She’d swallowed the familiar rush of tears and said simply, “I know. They keep each other company.”
“Nicole?”
“Yes, Tommy?”
“In the morning, we can go swimming.”
“That would be nice.”
“But only if you’re there. Uncle Pierce says it’s very, very dangerous to go in the pool by myself.”
“He’s right. Now, if you’re finished eating, how about we clear the table to save Janet having to do it?”
“All right.” He’d hopped down from his chair and carried his plate and glass to the counter next to the sink. After she’d rinsed them, he showed her how he could load them into the dishwasher. It had been all she could do not to smother him with hugs and kisses.
Janet, who’d been ironing at the other end of the kitchen, had observed the interaction but made no comment. “I’m here if you need me,” she’d said, when Nicole asked why she hadn’t joined them for dinner, “but it’s best if the two of you spend time alone together and get to know one another as quickly as possible. Poor motherless mite, he needs someone who can give him all her attention for a while, and I can’t, it’s as simple as that. I’m just glad you came along when you did.”
Nicole had warmed to the housekeeper for the trust implicit in her words. She’d bathed Tommy and read him a story, then sat with him until he’d fallen asleep. Those last few minutes had been precious in their intimacy.
“Nicole?” he’d said, clutching his dee-dee.
She stroked a finger up his cheek, “Yes, darling?”
“Is Mommy coming home tomorrow?”
What she wouldn’t have given to be able to say yes. And what she wouldn’t do to make sure he’d never have to wonder if she’d be there for him in the morning. “No, sweetheart, but I’ll be here.”
His eyes had clouded and she’d folded him in her arms, her heart aching with a pain that could be assuaged only by holding that little boy as close to her as possible, and hoping that, in easing his sorrow, perhaps she’d find a little relief for herself. “What would you like for breakfast when you wake up, Tommy?”
“Pancakes,” he’d murmured drowsily. “And brown syrup.”
“Then pancakes it’ll be.”
And it was. Every day for the rest of that week.
Pierce always had breakfast with them and was often there for dinner, too. “Is all that stuff good for him?” he asked, on the third morning. “Shouldn’t he be eating something more wholesome, like porridge, and forget about the syrup?”
“Not when the weather’s so hot, Pierce. Porridge is winter food. As for the syrup, I give him only a minimal amount. As long as he brushes his teeth, it won’t do him any harm.”
“Well, you’re the nurse,” he’d said doubtfully. “I suppose you know what you’re doing.”
But he didn’t really believe that and continued to keep tabs on her and question her about everything, from the number of times a day that she changed Tommy’s clothes to the amount of time it took him to polish off a meal.
“Twenty minutes should be enough for anyone to clean his plate,” he claimed irritably, on the Friday evening when Tommy was particularly slow to finish his main course. “My crew could get through four times that amount of food in half the time he takes.”
“Since he’s not in the Navy,” she replied tartly, “I hardly think it matters. In any case, mealtimes shouldn’t be reduced to races to see who can cross the finishing line first. They should be social occasions.”
Pierce had let the subject lie but the look he gave her across the table reminded her that she could push him only so far. In the final analysis, he was the boss and she made a mental note not to forget it. She wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he’d fired her.
The next eight weeks sped by, and if the ache of losing her sister didn’t exactly disappear, it was made easier for Nicole to bear by getting to know her nephew. Tommy was such an easy child to love. So willing to please, so sweet-tempered, so affectionate. And apart from that one near-disastrous confession her first night on the job, she fit into her role of nanny without a hitch. No one, she was sure, had any inkling that the affection she lavished on Tommy stemmed from anything other than pure dedication to the job she’d been hired to do.
So why, as one fear lessened, did another kind of uneasiness take its place? Why wasn’t the fact that she had unlimited access to her nephew, that she had a more or less free hand in how she went about her responsibilities, and that she lived in a gorgeous house in a breathtaking setting, enough to make her as happy as could be expected?
The answer wasn’t one she cared to dwell on, but there really wasn’t any escaping it. Pierce Warner was the problem. Not because he frequently seemed to forget that he wasn’t in the Navy any longer and didn’t realize that four-year-old boys weren’t miniature underlings with a built-in respect for strict adherence to rules and regulations. That Nicole could and did handle, but diplomatically—not just because she didn’t want to put her job at risk, but also because the last thing Tommy needed at that point in his life was two adults squabbling in front of him.
What she couldn’t swallow with any sort of equanimity were the twinges of envy that attacked without warning every time Louise Trent showed up and lay claim to Pierce with a determination that couldn’t have been made clearer if she’d stood on the roof and screamed to the whole world: “Hands off! This man is mine!”
Equally difficult to stomach was the fact that, while she plowed around the house suitably dressed-down as befit a nanny, Louise flaunted her assets shamelessly. She wore silk which never wrinkled, no matter how hot the day; delicate strappy sandals with heels as fine as wineglass stems. To showcase her sinfully beautiful legs, her hemlines never rode a fraction of an inch lower than mid-thigh, regardless of the weather.
And speaking of which, while Louise protected her porcelain complexion beneath wide-brimmed hats made of the finest panama, Nicole grew as brown as newly baked bread from chasing Tommy around the garden and along the beach. Truly, she felt every inch the peasant servant in contrast to Louise who clearly saw herself as lady of the manor.
Nicole tried to rationalize her feelings the best way she knew how. She told herself that they arose because Tommy deserved to have Pierce to himself more often, instead of having to make do with a quick visit sandwiched between the end of his uncle’s working day and Louise’s plans for the evening.
But that line of reasoning fell apart when she found herself lying awake waiting to hear the sound of the automatic garage door opener heralding Pierce’s late night return from his date, and wondering how serious he was about Louise, if they were sleeping together.
Once the questions entered her head, there was no escaping them and, to her shame, she found a way to get the answers. One morning in early July when Janet joined her on the patio for midmorning coffee, she said, with what she prayed would come across as nothing more than idle curiosity, “Are the Commander and Miss Trent planning to get married soon?”
“If she gets her way, they will,” Janet replied sourly. “That woman sank her chicken-pluckers into him, the minute she set eyes on him.”
“Oh,” Nicole said, her spirits plummeting absurdly. “They’ve known each other some time, then?”
“About six months. They met when he came home for good and started shopping for a place to live. She found this house for him and made herself generally indispensable in the process.”
Nicole smiled. It wasn’t the first time Janet had intimated her dislike of Pierce’s lady friend. “Where will you fit in, if she becomes Mrs. Warner?”
“I won’t,” Janet replied, without hesitation. “I’ll hand in notice before she gets the chance to fire me. I was housekeeper for the Commander’s parents from the time he turned fourteen, and I’d gladly work for him ’til I drop in my tracks, but that hussy...!”
She snorted disparagingly, then gave way to a gleeful smile. “Of course, things aren’t going as smoothly as she’d like anymore,” she remarked, nodding to where Tommy played in his sandbox. “Inheriting someone else’s child isn’t part of her plan, for all that she puts on such a fine act when the Commander’s around to see it. But I guess you’ve gathered that much for yourself, Nicole. You don’t strike me as someone who misses much when it comes to that boy.”
“No. In fact, that’s what prompted me to ask if the relationship’s serious,” Nicole said, and tried to believe the allegation was true. What sort of idiot allowed herself to moon after a man already in love with someone else, after all?
But the envy continued regardless. Became more like plain, green-eyed jealousy, in fact. And without knowing how it happened, she found being with Tommy wasn’t quite enough to fill all her needs. Sometimes, she ached for a man’s arms around her, for a man’s lips to be pressed to hers.
Specifically, she wanted Pierce’s strong, tanned arms around her, and his broad shoulder to lean on. She wanted his gaze to settle on her lips with the same hungry curiosity that hers glommed onto his. He had a very handsome mouth; strong, finely sculpted, sexy.
She was so ashamed of herself, so mortified. Her only consolation lay in the fact that he had no idea how she felt about him.
Unfortunately, Louise Trent did.
