Читать книгу The Texas Billionaire's Bride / The Texas Bodyguard's Proposal - Karen Rose Smith - Страница 12

The days sped by with more dolls being delivered to Livie, more meals that Melanie took at the table with her charge and even more instructional hours for the girl.

But to supplement those regular study sessions, Melanie also brought her love of dance into the playroom, where Livie had been allowing her nanny to slowly but surely spend more time.

Still, out of all of those passing days, Zane Foley hadn’t paid a visit to Tall Oaks once, nor sent for Livie to come to Dallas.

Not even one darn time.

Oh, sure, there’d been phone calls to the little girl—about one every few days—but Melanie guessed they were more out of habit than a true need to connect with Livie, because each one left the child looking sadder than ever.

Yet, this only encouraged Melanie to step up her “save Livie” campaign, paying the child as much attention as the girl was open to on any given day. She showed her that someone really did care, even if Livie turned away from Melanie at times, and let those stuffed animals that had protected the playroom on that first day speak for her.

“They want you to leave them alone,” Livie would say sometimes. “They don’t need anyone to pretend they like them.”

Little did she know that Melanie wasn’t pretending; so the newest nanny hung in there, doing her best to give Livie her all.

She just wished she knew how to confront the problem of Zane Foley himself. How to talk some sense into him. How to make him see that he wasn’t doing Livie any favors by staying away.

Melanie wanted to despise him, but then night would come, when the wind thumped branches against the old house, when the moon shined through her window and lulled her to close her eyes and imagine how it had felt to touch him when she shook his hand.

How the contact had shaken her to the core.

And morning would arrive again, and she’d go right back to thinking about what to do about him and Livie.

Today, as the June sun spilled through the attic window, Livie had decided to celebrate summer—and her leaving kindergarten behind—with an impromptu performance for some of the house staff. Accordingly, the audience of two sat on the quilts spread over the floor in front of a makeshift blanket curtain that Livie and Melanie had constructed.

The little girl was behind it now, while Mrs. Howe and Cook waited.

Cook, who was in his chef’s whites, crossed his legs Indian-style and grinned at Melanie, who was just in front of the curtain, ready to open it. His name was Scott, and from that first week forward, he’d encouraged Melanie to call him that.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Howe sat in a ladylike position, her knees to the side, her pale skirt covering her legs. Her name was Sue, but when Melanie had dared use it one time, she’d gotten a raised eyebrow and hadn’t tried it since.

“Is it almost showtime?” Melanie asked Livie.

“Five minutes!” the girl said from behind the curtain.

“Okay.” Melanie smiled at the audience, then walked toward them, sitting on the edge of the quilt while making sure her sundress skirt was in place. “Last-minute rehearsals behind that curtain, I imagine,” she whispered. “Livie’s nervous.”

Scott shrugged, but he was so mellow that Melanie often suspected life was one big “oh, well” for him, anyway.

“It’s her first show,” he said. “The squirt can take her time to give us the premiere.”

Mrs. Howe sighed at the nickname “squirt.” She sighed a lot about Cook’s surfer-in-Texas attitude.

Melanie grinned at Scott. “I guess that’s the beauty of summer—no school to work a schedule around.”

“But,” Mrs. Howe said, “a schedule’s still important.”

During the past weeks, Melanie and the manager had experienced some…philosophical differences…about many things, although Mrs. Howe hadn’t tipped off Zane Foley to the new nanny’s slight adjustments. At least, that’s what Melanie suspected, because her boss hadn’t rung her up yet to give her a talking to or fire her.

“You’re right,” Melanie said, “schedule’s are important, and we still have one. Livie does well with them, so it seemed counterproductive to change her way of life midstream. But there’s room for flexibility when it’s warranted.”

Scott playfully made the sign of the cross, like he was extending Mrs. Howe some help in fighting off Melanie’s words.

“Mrs. Howe,” he said, “would lose her mind without lists and charts and diagrams. Them’s fightin’ words, Mel.”

The manager made a dismissive gesture at him, as if that would cause him to disappear, but she had an air of barely restrained amusement just the same. Melanie had decided that Scott was like Mrs. Howe’s little brother, and their relationship was one long drive in a backseat where they get on each other’s nerves.

Nothing romantic, though, Melanie thought. Mrs. Howe had a husband down the hill in their own cottage, and Scott had mentioned something to Melanie once about a serious girlfriend.

Livie’s voice came from behind the curtain. “Almost ready!”

“Okay,” all the adults answered back.

Scott kept looking toward the performance area, but now there was something pensive about him.

Melanie leaned near so her voice wouldn’t have to carry. “What is it?”

He started to talk, then stopped, shrugged and smiled vaguely.

Melanie knew if she waited long enough he would go on.

And he did.

“It’s nice to see her like this,” he said. “I don’t know exactly what you’re doing, Mel, but I can’t imagine Livie ever wanting to give any kind of performance before you came along.”

Melanie blushed, knowing she was no miracle-worker.

Whispering, she said, “Livie’s giving her performance in an attic, so it’s not as if this is some grand coming out for her.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Howe said, “but it is.”

For the first time, Melanie saw a pleased openness about the other woman, and that took her aback.

Melanie glanced away from the others and their approval; she wasn’t willing to accept credit for anything, because there was still such a long way to go. There were even times when Livie would sit quietly staring out the window, and Melanie feared that no one would ever be able to get in. And there were the days when Livie could be so stubborn that it stretched Melanie’s supply of patience to the breaking point.

Those were the moments when she could see why the other nannies had walked away. However, Melanie had come to the realization that it hadn’t been Livie who’d driven the others away, so much as it’d been the hopelessness of the situation itself. Maybe it even broke their hearts to be so strict with the child.

The difference was that Melanie vowed to never give up.

“At any rate,” Scott said, getting her attention again, “you’re a real find, Mel. Mrs. H. agrees with me, too.”

The manager hmphed. “I wasn’t sure at first.”

“You came around quick enough from the opinion you used to have.” Scott made his voice higher, imitating Mrs. Howe. “‘Mr. Foley has no idea how to pick ’em, does he? Set a pretty face in front of him, and he’s sold.’”

“Cook,” Mrs. Howe admonished.

“That’s what you said,” Scott added, that little-brother mischief in his eyes.

But Melanie was barely paying mind to that.

Pretty?

Zane Foley had only called her “spirited” on the phone to his brother, but did the employees at Tall Oaks know something else?

And…Wait.

Had the other nannies caught Zane Foley’s eye?

A spear of jealousy stabbed her, and she scolded herself. Ridiculous to even be thinking it. Or to believe he’d hired her because she was slightly above average.

Still, she’d been spending so much time tuning in to any and all clues from the staff about the distant Mr. Foley that she all but vibrated now with this tidbit from Scott. No one but Monty had really talked about their boss—or the subject of Danielle—so she was much too open to any leaked detail.

“Ready!” Livie finally called out.

Melanie stood and went to the boom box by the curtain. She selected the Enya song Livie wanted to dance to and pulled back the material to reveal the little girl, who was dressed in a pink leotard and ballet slippers that Zane Foley had sent the second day of Melanie’s tenure.

Mrs. Howe and Scott applauded, but as the synthesized strings began to play, the child just stood there, staring at them.

“Livie?” Melanie stage-whispered.

The child fixed her doe eyes on her nanny, as if forgetting everything Melanie had taught her about any of the dances they’d tried so far. They hadn’t even come up with a routine for this performance, because Melanie had just encouraged her to do whatever the song inspired at any given moment, whether it was ballet or contemporary or even a few tap moves.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

Maybe Livie did need that firmer structure she was so used to. Maybe she couldn’t depend on anything else.

Heart contracting, Melanie took the girl’s hands and began to dance with her. Livie reacted immediately, still looking into her nanny’s eyes as if nothing else existed, and laughing as she imitated everything Melanie did.

Soon the song was over and the audience clapped again, shouting out their “bravos” as the performers took their curtsies.

Livie’s cheeks were flushed while she kept smiling up at Melanie.

The breath caught in Melanie’s throat. No one had ever looked at her that way—not even the other children she’d cared for—and without thinking, she bent to wrap her arms around Livie.

The girl hugged her back, resting her head on her nanny’s shoulder.

For a moment the world seemed to stop, to clarify everything about what Melanie wanted: being needed and being able to give as much as she got from just one simple embrace.

Her imagination kicked into motion, picturing another pair of arms around them, hugging them all close together, creating the cocoon of a family that Melanie had never truly had.

Zane Foley’s arms.

The sound of hammers against the back of the house knocked Melanie out of the moment. It was the maintenance crew, getting Tall Oaks in shape for the charity event that would take place here on the Fourth of July. Obviously, their break was over.

At least Livie would get to see her father then, Melanie thought, drawing back from the girl and smoothing a dark, wavy strand of hair away from her face.

As if she could read Melanie all too well, Livie got that sad look in her eyes, then hugged her nanny once more before backing away and going to Mrs. Howe and Scott, who congratulated her with their warm gestures.

It was nice while it lasted, Melanie thought. Maybe she was just as starved for affection as Livie.

When Mrs. Howe’s phone rang with a chirping tone, Livie listened to Scott as he told her about his favorite part of the dance. In the meantime, the woman extracted the device from her pocket, checking the ID screen, and her relaxed demeanor altered as she answered the phone.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Foley,” she said.

A burst of adrenaline jolted Melanie from head to toe, warming her—no, heating her—through and through.

She shut off the boom box, lending the attic silence as she noticed that Livie had gone bright-eyed and hopeful, watching Mrs. Howe talk to her dad.

Once again, Melanie hurt for her, because she knew that he’d just called Livie yesterday and he wasn’t yet scheduled to do so again.

Darn it all, what could she do to take care of this situation?

Mrs. Howe kept talking to him, nodding, assuring him that the maintenance crew was making headway with the exterior of the mansion. In the meantime, Livie grabbed the manager’s skirt, as if to get her dad’s attention through Mrs. Howe.

Unable to stand it anymore, Melanie went to Livie, resting a hand on the girl’s head.

“Can I talk to him?” the little girl whispered to Mrs. Howe.

Something like a heartfelt reaction overtook the manager’s face. She looked at Melanie almost regretfully, while tacitly asking her to usher Livie out of the room so Zane Foley could conduct business without interruption.

Anger boiled in Melanie, taking over—or maybe even mixing—with the surge of awareness she’d been feeling before.

She got down to Livie’s height. “Maybe we should try calling him later,” she whispered, “after business hours?”

That sorrow—so familiar, so gut-wrenching—consumed Livie’s gaze.

Scott shook his head while wandering out of the room, and Melanie thought that he might’ve been expecting more of her—the woman who’d taken Livie under her wing.

And shouldn’t he?

Mrs. Howe signed off, silent, as if not knowing how to react or what to say to the little girl who’d been all but forgotten here at Tall Oaks.

Forgotten. Melanie knew exactly what that felt like—to live in a place where there were people crowded all around you, but you didn’t seem to exist in any significant way.

It was the last straw.

“Know what?” she said, tweaking Livie under the chin, trying to distract her, even though it was so tough, with her throat choking every word.

Livie’s mouth formed around a silent “What?” She was trying hard not to cry.

“I’m going to make sure you see your daddy soon,” Melanie said, skimming her fingers over the girl’s hair.

She heard Mrs. Howe gasp but ignored it, because Livie’s eyes had already gotten that gleam of hope in them, and Melanie would move mountains to make her promise come true.

Too late, she wondered if she was crossing a line—if this vow would get her fired. Flying in the face of Zane Foley’s wishes might take away all the security she’d won by landing this job.

But no one had been fighting for Livie.

“Really, Ms. Grandy?” the little girl asked, as if she couldn’t believe any promises when it came to her dad.

“Really.” Melanie stood, facing Mrs. Howe. “Father’s Day is just around the corner, isn’t it?”

She wasn’t so used to celebrating the holiday, but she knew it was sometime near mid-June.

“Ms. Grandy…” the manager began in a warning tone.

Brushing that aside, Melanie took Livie’s hand and squeezed it. “We’re going to make a present for him. And we’re going to be hand-delivering it.”

As Mrs. Howe closed her eyes and sighed, Melanie smiled down at her charge, who was already hopping up and down.

“Yay!” Livie danced in front of a cautious Mrs. Howe. “We’re going to Dallas!”

Yes, they were going to Dallas.

And somewhere in the back of Melanie’s mind, she realized that perhaps the trip was just as much for her to see Zane Foley as it was for Livie.

Even if it was a Saturday, it’d been a typically long day at the office for Zane: putting the finishing touches on acquiring an old, junky amusement park near San Antonio, with the intention of polishing it into a environmentally conscious spa complex; having yet another needless discussion with Judge Duarte about that state representative seat; hearing from Jason about how he’d met Penny McCord at that wedding this past weekend.

Zane showered and donned some sweats and a T-shirt. All the while he went over what his brother had told him about pouring the charm on Penny, as he’d tried to subtly coax any information he could about her family’s interest in Travis’s ranch. She hadn’t seemed to know much, and Jason hadn’t believed it, so he’d decided to pursue her further, perhaps through another “chance” meeting soon.

Truthfully, it’d all worn Zane out—maybe because, in spite of his support of the plan, it still wasn’t sitting well with him.

Then again, this had to do with the McCords, so all was fair.

Since he’d already had dinner at his downtown desk, he grabbed some paperwork about the Santa Magdalena shipwreck from his briefcase, then went to the living room and turned on the TV, thinking he would sit and read for a spell.

But he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Zane looked at the clock on his DVR unit. 8:00 p.m.

Who the hell was paying a visit?

He set down the papers and went to the foyer, accessing the security video screen console that was hidden in a wall panel.

When he saw a hint of blond hair, his libido instinctively went wild because he’d been imagining that same light shade, plus a slender body and long legs, every night since he’d met Melanie Grandy.

And as his vision focused, allowing him to see the rest of her standing right there, in the flesh, in front of his door, the air deserted his lungs, stirring him up, electrifying him in a way he hadn’t felt for years.

He hadn’t had time for it, and business took up all his energies. Women had gotten him into too much trouble before, and staying away from them made life easier.

Didn’t it?

Angered at all the questions—and even more so at Melanie Grandy’s presence—he was about to press the security speaker and demand to know what she was doing here.

Then he spied Livie next to her nanny, holding Melanie Grandy’s hand, and paused.

Livie.

Guilt consumed him until he banished it, focusing instead on the anger because it was so much simpler to understand.

He unlocked the door, yanked it open, and the force of the motion made the warm air outside stir Melanie Grandy’s hair.

The soft-as-silk strands that he’d been fantasizing about…

“Hello,” she said as calmly as you please, with a polite smile to match.

But Livie’s grin was much more excited as she said, “Hi, Daddy!” and held up a light blue construction-paper card decorated with feathers and sequins and doodads.

It read “Happy Father’s Day!”

The sight almost brought him to his knees, and that made him even angrier.

Still, he gently took the card from Livie, giving her all he could with a half smile that he hoped expressed everything he wasn’t able to say out loud, because he knew emotions and investment in them would only backfire someday.

When he didn’t say anything else, Livie’s smile faltered.

Dammit. Dammit to hell.

But he didn’t know how else to handle her.

The helplessness got to him again, and he refocused his frustration on a less vulnerable target.

The nanny.

“I don’t remember arranging a trip out here,” he said, his teeth clenched because he was trying so hard to rein in his temper.

And his inadequacy as a father.

She didn’t back down even an inch. “Father’s Day is tomorrow, and we thought we’d wish you a happy one. Livie made you a gift, too.”

He could see the nanny squeeze his daughter’s hand, urging Livie to present a slim box to him. But the child seemed reluctant to do so after how he’d responded to her card.

He couldn’t blame her.

Unable to stand himself, he relented just this once and bent down to Livie, accepting the box, then opening it to find a hand-sewn tie made out of flannel R2-D2 material.

Livie spoke up quietly. “Ms. Grandy helped me.”

“It’s made out of pajamas she’d grown out of,” the nanny said.

God help him. He just stared at the gift, thinking he’d never seen anything so wonderful in his life.

But when he glanced at his daughter, he saw Danielle’s smile—the sweet, innocent expression his own wife had worn when they were young.

Back then, it had been so easy to think everything was going to be okay. Yet, then hell had hit, and he’d realized that he should’ve been so much more careful.

He tried to say something to Livie, failed, then tried again, even though the words scraped on the way out.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he finally managed, touching her cheek.

“You’re welcome.”

He could see in her eyes that she wanted more than just a thank you, so he awkwardly held open his arms.

She hesitated, but Melanie Grandy helped out by guiding Livie forward.

When his daughter fell against him, he closed his eyes, squeezing her tight. Probably too tight, because she backed away and went back to holding her nanny’s hand.

His own daughter, preferring a near stranger.

But that’s what he was, wasn’t he?

If thoughts could make a person bleed, he’d be dying.

“Why don’t you go inside, Livie?” he said, his tone measured. “The TV’s on.”

“TV?” she asked, clearly intrigued about an activity she rarely got to indulge in.

He gestured for her to enter, and after she did, he tried to contain himself in front of his guest.

But there was too much to bottle up: the frustration, the shock of his unwelcome attraction to her, the barely quelled rage of both combined.

He dragged his gaze over to meet hers, and the flash of her blue eyes twisted into him.

His words were low and tight. “You’ve been making ties and cards instead of concentrating on schoolwork?”

She furrowed her brow. “Mr. Foley, Livie’s out of school for the summer.”

Mortified by not realizing that, he found a million other reasons to still be put out with the nanny.

“And what did you expect to accomplish by bringing her?”

She smiled oh-so innocuously. “Aside from the fact that you have a new tie, she wanted to wish you a Happy Father’s Day. In person. Coming here was a gift to her, too.”

Was this woman brazen enough to be pointing out his shortcomings to his face?

No one had dared before—not until after they were out of his employment.

Before he could erupt, she added, “We got a late start on driving, mostly because when I called your number, an assistant answered and said you wouldn’t be home until after seven.”

“Then you’d best get back to Austin, since it’s a long ride.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and her agenda hit him square in the middle of the forehead.

“You set this up so I’d feel compelled to have you both overnight,” he said. “Is that it?”

“I didn’t think it’d be such an imposition. She’s your daughter, not a nuisance.”

He shook his head, ready to terminate her employment. But…

Dammit all, he didn’t have time to go through another nanny search. He’d felt terrible enough after his daughter lost yet another caretaker. Besides, switching nannies so often did nothing for her structure, and Livie seemed to really be getting on well with this one.

But in the back of his thoughts, he wondered if there was another reason he was hesitating to let Melanie Grandy go…

Hell no.

Not even remotely.

Still, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the nanny was right. It was the eve of Father’s Day, and what kind of dad would he be to turn out his daughter?

Holding up a finger, he said, “One night, and I’m only agreeing to it because I don’t want you driving Livie home in the dark all that way.”

“Fair enough.”

Maybe he should add more for good measure. “I’m extremely busy, and I don’t want either of you underfoot.”

Hollow, he thought. It all sounded as hollow as he felt.

“I understand,” she said, her smile strained.

Then she turned around to retrieve two suitcases—one scuffed, one pristine.

Melanie Grandy’s and Livie’s baggage, he thought. But he wasn’t about to let it become his own.

After entering, the nanny set the suitcases by the circular staircase, then immediately went to Livie. He took up the luggage, intending to get it out of the way and into the upstairs guest rooms, where he wouldn’t have to look at it. His own bedroom was on the ground floor, so it would keep him removed, just the way he wanted it.

Yet, when he came back downstairs to hear his daughter and her nanny laughing about something or another on TV, he found himself walking toward them.

But then he changed direction, moving toward the sanctuary of his study.

But he could still hear them.

And weirdly enough, he kind of liked the sound.