Читать книгу The Nanny's Secret - Elizabeth Lane - Страница 9

Three

Turning onto the unmarked side road, Leigh switched her headlights on high beam. Until now, she hadn’t been worried about finding Wyatt’s house. But the moonless night was pitch-black, the thick-growing pines a solid wall that shut off the view on both sides.

She hadn’t planned on arriving so late. But everything back in town had taken longer than she’d expected. When the clerk at Baby Mart had helped her make a list of furniture and supplies, Leigh had been staggered at how much it took to keep one little baby in comfort—and how long it took to choose each item. By the time she’d left the store her head was pounding, her feet throbbing in her high-heeled pumps.

She’d stopped at the paper to tell her boss she was quitting, then headed home. Kevin and her mother had hovered around her bed as she threw clothes and toiletries into her suitcase. They’d demanded to know what was going on. Leigh had mumbled something about a secret assignment, assuring them that she’d be fine, she’d keep in touch, and they could always reach her on her cell phone. They probably suspected she’d gone to work for the CIA, or maybe that she was running from the Mafia.

She hated keeping secrets from her family. But there was no other way to make this work. Kevin’s baby son needed her help; whatever it took, she would be there for little Mikey.

A large, pale shape bounded into her headlights. Her foot slammed the brake. The station wagon squealed to a stop, just missing the deer that zigzagged across the road and vanished into the trees.

Shaken, she sagged over the steering wheel. What was she doing, driving up a dark mountain road to move in with a man she barely knew—a man who made her pulse race every time his riveting indigo eyes looked her way?

The memory of that afternoon’s encounter, when she’d tumbled out of the SUV and into his arms, was still simmering. The clumsy accident must have been no more than a simple embarrassment for Wyatt. But the brief intimate contact had flamed through her like fire through spilled gasoline. Wyatt Richardson was a good fifteen years her senior. But never mind that—the man exuded an aura that charged the air around him like summer lightning. How was she going to keep her mind on work if her pulse ratcheted up every time he came within ten feet of her?

Right now Wyatt should be the least of her worries. Tucked into her purse was the one item she’d bought with her own cash at Baby Mart—a thick paperback on infant care. Truth be told, her experience with babies consisted of a few bottles and diaper changes. What she didn’t know about umbilical cords, fontanels, bathing and burping would fill...a book.

Once the nursery was set up, she planned to spend the rest of the night reading. She’d always been a quick study. This time she would have to be. She couldn’t fake it with a baby—it was become an expert before tomorrow or risk doing something wrong and possibly harming the child.

Braking for the deer had killed the engine and left her badly spooked. Starting the car again, she drove at a cautious pace up the winding road. An eternity seemed to pass before the trees parted and she found herself looking up a rocky slope. From its top, light shone through towering windows.

Minutes later she pulled up in front of the house. She stepped out of the car to see Wyatt standing on the broad stone porch, his arms folded across his chest.

“What kept you? I was about to send out a search party. Why didn’t you call?” He sounded like the parent of a teen who’d missed curfew.

“Sorry. My phone died. And everything took longer than I’d expected. I didn’t even take time to change.” She glanced down at her rumpled suit, then down further to where her feet had swollen to the shape of her pumps. Opening the back of the station wagon, she reached for her suitcase, but Wyatt was there ahead of her. He snatched up the heavy bag and carried it into the front hall.

“Did the order from Baby Mart get here?” she asked.

“It arrived a couple of hours ago. I had the delivery man put the crib together, but everything else is still in boxes. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”

“There’s no one here to help?” She’d expected to see a servant or two but there wasn’t another soul in sight.

His eyebrow quirked upward. “Just you—and me. Dinner’s warming in the oven if you’re hungry.”

“I’m starved.” And she was, even though she hadn’t given food a thought until now. “Don’t tell me you cook,” she said.

“Lord, no. I keep snacks and breakfast food in the kitchen, but when I want a real meal, I have it delivered from the restaurant at the lodge. Tonight it’s lasagna.” He lowered the suitcase to the floor. “You can leave your things here till we’ve eaten.”

He ushered her into the great room, its cathedral roof shored by massive, rough-hewn beams. The north wall, overlooking the resort, was floor-to-ceiling glass. No blinds were needed. Seeing inside from below would be next to impossible.

The logs in the huge stone fireplace had burned down to coals, leaving the space pleasantly warm. After kicking her shoes off her swollen feet, Leigh slipped off her jacket, tossed it back over her suitcase and followed Wyatt. Off to her right she glimpsed a formal dining area, but it appeared they’d be eating in the brightly lit kitchen, where the steel-topped table had been set for two.

Wyatt seated her and used a padded glove to lift the foil-wrapped pan out of the oven. There was a fresh salad on the table, along with a baguette, a bottle of vintage claret and two glasses.

“I’ll pour and you dish.” He handed her a spatula. “It might be overcooked.”

“My fault for being late. Sorry.” Leigh scooped two squares of lasagna onto the plates. It didn’t look overcooked, and it smelled heavenly.

“Eat hearty. We’ve got plenty work ahead of us, getting that nursery set up.”

“You said we. Does that mean you’re planning to help?”

“With the heavy lifting, at least. But you’ll be the one organizing things. I hope you plan to change into something more comfortable.”

“Of course.” Leigh’s face warmed as his cobalt eyes lingered on her. The silk blouse she’d worn with the suit had always been a little snug. She’d forgotten that problem when she’d taken off her jacket. She scrambled to change the subject. “I still find it hard to believe you don’t have help in this big house—in addition to me, of course.”

“You mean like a butler and a chauffeur and a cook?” His eyes twinkled, an unexpected surprise. “You’ve been watching too many episodes of Masterpiece Theatre. A gaggle of servants hanging around would drive me crazy. I can load the dishwasher, answer my own doorbell and drive my own car. And I have a cleaning crew up from the lodge every Wednesday to keep the place looking shipshape. Believe me, I like my peace and quiet.”

She took a sip of wine and speared a sliced mushroom from her salad. It would be a waste of words, reminding him now, but Wyatt’s precious peace and quiet was about to be shattered.

* * *

Leigh’s room was on the second floor. Like the rest of the house, its decor was rustic and masculine with an eye to comfort. The queen-sized bed featured a decadent European-style featherbed and duvet. A hand-woven Tibetan rug covered much of the hardwood floor. Wooden shutters masked the tall windows.

One wall was decorated with framed black-and-white photos of the Himalayas. Among them was an image of a grinning, bearded Wyatt between two Sherpa porters. As Leigh stripped off her blouse, skirt and pantyhose, it was as if his mocking eyes watched her every move.

She would have to do something about that picture.

A side door opened into the nursery, which was piled with bags and boxes from Baby Mart. Zipping her jeans and tugging her sweatshirt over her head, she prepared to do battle with the mess. It was going to be a long night. And her tortured feet would feel every step she took.

Wyatt had just unpacked a solid oak rocker and was situating a cushion on the seat. He glanced up as she padded barefoot into the nursery.

“That’s more like it,” he said, taking in her outfit. “But where are your shoes?”

Leigh wiggled her swollen toes. “Too many hours in stilettos. I’m so footsore I can’t even wear my sneakers.”

“That’s no good.” He rose, gesturing toward the chair. “Maybe I can help. Sit down.”

She hesitated. “We really need to get started here.”

“Sit. That’s an order.”

Leigh sank onto the padded seat. Being bossed rankled her, but she was on his clock, and if he could do something for her feet, who was she to argue?

Dropping to a crouch, he cradled her left foot between his hands. “Trust me. I’ve dealt with enough sports injuries to pick up a few tricks.”

His strong hands began kneading her foot, fingers pressing the arch as his thumbs massaged the bones and tendons between her toes. Leigh could feel herself relaxing as the pain eased. Delicious sensations trickled up her leg. She closed her eyes. A moan escaped her lips.

He chuckled. “Feels good, does it?”

“Mmm-hmm. You could do this for a living.” Her mind began to wander forbidden paths, imagining how those skilled hands would feel in other places. She hadn’t been in a physical relationship since breaking her engagement, eleven months ago. Now she felt her body awakening to Wyatt’s masculine touch. And she couldn’t help remembering that they were alone here, with a bed in the next room....

But what was she thinking? Sleeping with Wyatt was a crazy idea. Any intimacy between them would just make it that much harder for her to hold on to her secrets.

With a mental slap, Leigh shocked herself back to reality. When she opened her eyes, Wyatt was looking up at her as if he’d detected something in her face. Her cheeks warmed. Had he guessed what she’d been thinking?

“How’s your room?” He broke the awkward silence. “Will it be all right?”

“It’s lovely—although I may not be able to roll myself out of that bed in the morning.”

“Chloe chose that room for you. She wanted you next to the nursery, where you could hear the baby at night.”

“And where will Chloe be?”

“Her room’s downstairs. She says she doesn’t want his crying to wake her up.”

So, what’s wrong with this picture? Leigh bit back an acerbic comment. She’d known she was getting into a prickly situation. That was why she’d taken the job in the first place. But this was no time to climb on her soapbox—especially since the issue would need to be addressed with Chloe, not the girl’s father.

“I can guess what you’re thinking.” He switched to her other foot, skilled fingers kneading away the soreness. “But for now I want you to cut the girl some slack—give her time to get back on her feet, physically and emotionally. When her mother had to choose between her husband and her pregnant daughter, Chloe found herself on her way to the airport with her bags. As if she hadn’t been through enough already, dealing with the pregnancy on her own.” Wyatt’s fingers pressed harder against Leigh’s arch, almost hurting. “So help me, if I ever find the irresponsible jerk who took advantage of a young girl’s trust and then just walked away....”

“I think we’d better get to work.” Leigh pulled free and scrambled to her feet, uncertain she could trust herself not to rise to her brother’s defense if Wyatt continued in that vein. It wasn’t as if Kevin hadn’t offered to stand by Chloe. As for what had happened—Kevin had told her it had been after a party, with both of them more than a little drunk. No trust—or even love—involved. No one taking advantage. Just two reckless kids being stupid.

But the result of their thoughtless act was the little miracle she’d held for the first time today.

Not that she could explain any of that to Wyatt. Not now, and probably not ever.

Reaching for a box of linens, she began unwrapping crib pads, sheets and towels. “These will all need to be washed and dried before we use them,” she said. “There’s baby soap here somewhere. If you’ll point me toward the laundry room, I’ll get started.”

“It’s just off the kitchen—you’ll see it when you go downstairs. Meanwhile, I’ll unpack more of these boxes and recycle the cardboard. You can put everything away when you get back here.”

“Thanks.” Leigh found the pink soap box, bundled up the linens and headed for the stairs. She needed a break from Wyatt’s overpowering presence, and the laundry gave her an excuse. His drive had won Olympic glory and built one of the finest ski resorts in the state. But up close and personal, his magnetism could be an emotional drain. Her physical attraction to him only complicated things.

It would be easier after tomorrow, with the baby here. She’d have something to focus on, something to love—no, not to love. She was here to give Kevin’s son a good start in life. Sooner or later she would have to let go and walk away. If she allowed herself to fall in love with little Mikey, the final break would rip her heart out.

* * *

Wyatt stood alone on the second floor balcony. He’d expected to be worn out after helping Leigh set up the nursery. But they’d finished a couple of hours ago, and he was still too restless to sleep.

Leigh had been a whirlwind of efficiency—all business. There’d been no more sign of the chemistry that had flared between them when he’d rubbed her feet. But he hadn’t forgotten it. He’d always maintained that the sexiest thing about a woman was her face. The sight of Leigh’s face, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a blissful moan, had jolted his imagination into overdrive. He’d pictured that lovely dark-framed face on a pillow, her entranced expression deepening as he pleasured her....

Wyatt took a moment to enjoy the memory, then closed the door on it. For now, at least, a foot massage was as intimate as he planned to get with Miss Leigh Foster. Bed partners were a dime a dozen. But he’d already learned that a suitable nanny was worth more than gold.

A sliver of moon had risen above the canyon. Far below, beyond the trees, the lights of the resort spread like a jeweled carpet. The summer concert season was over, but the autumn color drew hikers to the slopes and sightseers flocking to the hotels, shops and restaurants. And the cold season was coming soon. Already his crews were inspecting every inch of the runs and lifts, getting ready for the first big snowstorm.

A light breeze, smelling of winter, cooled his face. He always savored this time of year and the changes it brought. But the changes happening now were like nothing in his experience.

Leigh was right. Chloe was going to need him. But how could he even begin to nurture her, discipline her and give her the support she needed? From his own father, Wyatt had inherited a legacy of neglect and abuse. What if the traits that made a good parent were simply missing in him? It was that fear that had made him keep his distance when she was a baby, herself. He’d missed the chance to get to know her, to build the kind of relationship that would help him understand how to be there for her. Could he trust himself to build that relationship now? Where did he even begin?

As for the baby... He couldn’t begin to wrap his brain around that reality. Not tonight. But if he wasn’t sure how to be a father after all these years, then he couldn’t believe that Chloe was prepared to be a mother when she was barely more than a child herself. Having a child could destroy her future. Since she’d arrived, he’d tried over and over again to help her realize that the best thing for all of them would be to give the little boy up to a good family. The message hadn’t gotten through, but perhaps things would change now that the baby was here. Once she realized that having a baby wasn’t like having a new doll, the girl might come to her senses.

Meanwhile, there was Leigh. He was depending on her to maintain a level of sanity he could live with. So far, she’d proved as efficient, hardworking and practical as she was pretty. He could only hope she had the skill to care for the baby and the patience to deal with the red-haired hellion that was Chloe at her worst.

The weariness he’d been holding back too long crashed in on him. Time he got some rest. It was late, and tomorrow he’d be bringing Chloe and the baby home from the hospital. The day was bound to be trying.

Stepping back inside, he headed toward the stairs. That was when he glanced down the dark hallway and noticed the sliver of light under the closed door of Leigh’s bedroom. Discretion told him to ignore it. But it was one-thirty in the morning. What if something was wrong? What if she was sick or in some kind of trouble?

Outside the door he paused to listen. Hearing nothing, he rapped lightly on the rough-hewn wood. When there was no answer, he pressed the latch and inched the door open.

Lamplight glowed on Leigh in bed, propped against two oversized pillows. She was dead asleep, her eyes closed, her head drooping to one side. The thin strap of her silky black nightgown had slipped off one shoulder to reveal the upper curve of a satiny breast.

Had she been waiting up for him? But that notion wasn’t worth the time it took to kick it to the curb. Nothing in tonight’s behavior could’ve been read as an invitation.

So why hadn’t she just turned off the light and rolled over? In the next instant he found the answer. On the duvet, where it could have fallen from her hand, lay a thick paperback book. Drawing closer, Wyatt could make out the title—Baby Care for the New Mother.

Leigh had fallen asleep cramming for her job.

So her claim to be experienced in childcare was something of a stretch. A smile teased the corners of Wyatt’s mouth. He wasn’t ready to fire Leigh. But he wanted to let her know, in a subtle way, that he was wise to her little fib.

Tired as she was, she’d probably sleep until morning. If she woke to find the book on the nightstand and the lamp switched off that should be enough to give her a clue.

Leaving his shoes in the hallway, he stole across the carpet to the bed. Close up, her lush beauty was even more tempting—ripe lips softly parted, lashes like velvet fringe against her satiny cheeks, and a fragrance that stirred his senses like a seductive night breeze.

As he leaned over her to pick up the book, she shifted against the pillow. The black ribbon strap slipped lower on her shoulder, giving him a glimpse of one rosebud nipple peeking above the lace trimming the neckline.

His sex rose like a flagpole, straining against his jeans. Wyatt cursed silently as his fingers closed around the open book. They were alone in the house. If Leigh opened her eyes, what would he do? Would he mumble an excuse and leave like a gentleman, or would he be true to his manly nature?

Silly question. But never mind. Leigh had shown him her proper side. Nothing she’d said or done had indicated that she’d take kindly to being awakened with a man bending over her bed.

Giving in to his better judgment, Wyatt laid the book on the nightstand, switched off the lamp and, with a last regretful glance, left the room.