- -
- 100%
- +
“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.
CHAPTER THREE
NICOLE had long believed women were more intuitive than men, and Louise proved herself no exception. Her built-in radar started picking up danger signals almost as soon as Nicole herself realized the direction in which things were headed, and her cordiality shrank proportionately.
At first, she tried to direct her attack through Pierce. “Grief, sweets,” she trilled, the Saturday she arrived unexpectedly and found him sharing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by the pool with Nicole and Tommy, “what a good thing I decided to stop by and let you take me out to lunch.”
“Why don’t you join us instead?” Pierce suggested, pulling up a chair for her. “We’ve got plenty of food and iced tea.”
Louise inspected the sandwiches as if she expected to find roach tracks in the peanut butter, and shuddered. “They’re serving fresh Dungeness crab salad and chardonnay at the yacht club, Pierce.”
“Sorry, Louise,” he said. “I promised Tommy I’d give him a swimming lesson this afternoon.”
She swept a glance over the scene, her eyes beneath the brim of her black straw hat coldly assessing. Nicole could imagine what sort of tableau the three of them made, lounging at leisure amid an assortment of towels, sunscreen lotion and inflatable water toys. To the uninitiated, they might have been the perfect, close-knit family, with Louise the interloper. And that clearly was not a picture the visitor relished.
“Why you, Pierce?” she inquired.
He shrugged his decidedly splendid shoulders. “Why not me?”
“Because,” she said peevishly, “I fail to see the point in hiring a dog if you have to bark yourself.”
It was a calculated insult made all the more offensive by her studied appraisal of Nicole, which Pierce didn’t miss. The family man image refocused to reveal his other persona, the naval officer unused to having his decisions questioned.
He put down the sandwich he was about to bite into, fixed her in a stare that only a fool would have perceived as anything other than highly dangerous, then brought his gaze to bear on Nicole. “Dog, Louise?”
The August afternoon crackled with unspoken hostility. Feeling suddenly and indecently exposed beneath the scrutiny, Nicole found herself reaching surreptitiously for her cotton cover-up, even though her one-piece swimsuit was modestly cut.
Tommy shattered the tension. “Where’s a dog?” he asked hopefully, looking around.
“It’s just a figure of speech, Thomas,” Louise said. “There isn’t really a dog here.”
But although she laughed merrily, the glint in her eyes was every bit as steely as that in Pierce’s, leaving Nicole in no doubt that the woman who’d started out as her ally no longer regarded her with favor.
The hint of a smile relaxed the stern line of Pierce’s mouth. “Well, perhaps there should be,” he said. “How would you feel, Nicole, about our taking on a puppy?”
“I think that would be wonderful,” she said, unable to quell her pleasure at the way he phrased the question, as if he, too, was beginning to think of her as part of the family. “I’m game for anything that helps Tommy get through the next few months.”
Louise looked as if she might explode, though whether that was because she objected to dogs in general or only those she perceived as invading her territory was a moot point. “Oh, Pierce!” she exclaimed. “Do you really think that’s wise? I mean, sweetie, think about it. Dog hair all over everything, and muddy paw prints.” She wrinkled her nose fastidiously. “Not to mention accidents on the carpets.”
Tommy’s ears perked up again, less enthusiastically this time. “Mommy and Daddy had an accident,” he said worriedly, leaning against Nicole’s knee. “They aren’t coming home ever again.”
“Oh, Tommy,” Nicole said, drawing him onto her lap, “that was a different kind of accident. If we got a puppy, nothing bad would happen to it. Uncle Pierce and I would make sure of that.”
“I’m talking about the sort of accident where an animal goes to the toilet in inappropriate places, Thomas,” Louise cut in, sending Nicole the sort of killing glare meant to stunt any other promises she might feel disposed to make.
But Tommy clung to Nicole, winding his arms so anxiously around her neck that she felt constrained to point out, “You’re confusing him, Miss Trent. He’s only just turned four and is having a tough enough time coping with the upheaval in his life. We need to be careful that we don’t inadvertently increase his apprehensions.”
“Thank you for your input, Miss Bennett,” came the sarcastic reply. “I can’t imagine how we’ve managed without it this long. Pierce, are you sure you won’t let me coax you into lunch at the club?”
“Not today, Louise,” he said, hoisting Tommy off Nicole’s lap and onto his shoulder. “A promise is a promise, and it’s time for that swimming lesson. But you go ahead.”
“I will,” she said, smiling fixedly. “I’ll just visit with Miss Bennett for a few minutes first, and watch the swimming lesson.” She blew him a kiss. “See you later, around six?”
“Sure.”
The second he was out of earshot, she launched her offensive. “So tell me,” she purred, “do you always take such a personal interest in your patients, Miss Bennett?”
“Yes,” Nicole said. “Although I don’t exactly see Tommy as a patient.”
“No? Then how do you see him?” Louise crossed her elegant legs and swung a negligent ankle.
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“Oh, I think you do, my dear.” She rooted in her bag, withdrew a mirrored compact and proceeded to touch up her already flawless mouth with a carmine lip pencil. “Your attachment to Thomas is unnatural. No one walks into a house and takes to a child as you apparently have to him—instantaneously, as it were—unless she has a hidden agenda.” Sunlight dazzled briefly in the reflection from the compact mirror as she snapped it closed. “Just between us women, Nicole, what is it you really want from this job?”
Despite the sun, Nicole went cold, afraid she’d somehow tipped her hand and that the other woman had guessed her secret. But then common sense prevailed. Louise wasn’t interested in Tommy; Pierce was her only concern. “There’s no hidden agenda, Miss Trent. I’m merely bringing to this position the same dedication I’ve brought to others I’ve held.”
“So the child is the drawing card?”
“Yes.”