The Nanny's Secret
Elizabeth Lane
“The other night wasn’t enough, Leigh.”
His meaning was clear. A long-term relationship with this man would be a dream come true. But once Wyatt learned the truth, he’d want nothing more to do with her.
“Leigh? Have I misread some signals?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. She remembered those eyes blazing down at her in the lamplight of her bedroom as he filled her with his heat.
She shook her head, willing herself to be as honest as she dared. “You haven’t misread anything, Wyatt. I’d welcome more time together if we could find it. But things are a bit … overwhelming right now.”
“Fine. For now … but not for long, Leigh. As you know, I’m not a patient man.” Tilting her chin with a finger, he brushed a feathery kiss across her lips.
She ached with wanting him—his arms around her, his skin naked against hers. But was she willing to risk the consequences?
* * *
The Nanny’s Secret is part of the No.1 bestselling series from Mills & Boon
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The Nanny’s
Secret
Elizabeth Lane
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ELIZABETH LANE has lived and traveled in many parts of the world, including Europe, Latin America and the Far East, but her heart remains in the American West, where she was born and raised. Her idea of heaven is hiking a mountain trail on a clear autumn day. She also enjoys music, animals and dancing. You can learn more about Elizabeth by visiting her website, www.elizabethlaneauthor.com.
For Tiffany
Contents
Chapter One (#u475f4f24-ebd4-5804-929a-e11d81abec5b)
Chapter Two (#ue113c6f1-2e8e-5a6b-8266-8eb737ee5417)
Chapter Three (#u0f9e7fe0-605a-535a-b160-646e033ff2ae)
Chapter Four (#u0cc4669b-5686-50c4-a547-75b3a61b30f6)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Dutchman’s Creek, Colorado
HELP WANTED
Live-in nanny for newborn. Wolf Ridge area. Mature. Discreet. Experience preferred.
Start immediately. Email résumé and references to
wr@dcsentinel.com
Wyatt Richardson glared at the stack of résumés on the borrowed desk. So far he’d interviewed three teenagers, a Guatemalan woman who barely spoke English, a harried mom with her own two-year-old and a grandmotherly type who confessed she got heart palpitations at high altitudes. His need for a qualified nanny bordered on desperation. But so far not one of the applicants was right for the job.
At least none of them had seemed to recognize him in his faded baseball cap. But that didn’t solve his problem.
Maybe he should have gone through an agency instead of placing that blind ad through The Dutchman’s Creek Sentinel. But agencies asked questions, and this was a personal matter, demanding privacy. Not even his staff at the resort knew that his sixteen-year-old daughter, Chloe, had shown up on his doorstep almost nine months pregnant—or that she’d just given birth to a baby boy at the local hospital.
With a weary sigh he scanned the final résumé. Leigh Foster, 26. At least her age was in the ballpark he’d wanted to see. But the journalism degree from the University of Colorado wouldn’t be much help. And her experience handling children was limited to some babysitting in high school. Glancing down the page he noticed she’d edited a defunct travel magazine and was currently working part-time for the local paper. He’d bet she was scrambling for money. Why else would an educated woman apply for this job?
Never mind. Just get it over with. He buzzed the receptionist, a signal to send in the next applicant.
High heels clicked down the tiled hallway, their cadence brisk and confident. An instant later the door of the small interview room opened. Wyatt’s gaze took her in at a glance—willowy figure, simple navy blue suit, dark chestnut hair worn in a sleek pageboy. An Anne Hathaway type. He liked what he saw—liked it a lot. Unfortunately he was looking for a nanny, not a date.
“Mr. Richardson.” Her long legs flashed as she strode toward the desk, hand extended. Her use of his name put Wyatt on instant alert. She worked for the Sentinel and would have known who placed the ad, he reminded himself. But the woman was a journalist. Did she really need a job or was she scoping out some juicy gossip for a story?
Either way, his first priority had to be protecting Chloe.
Rising, he accepted her proffered handshake. Her fingers felt the way she looked—slim and strong but surprisingly warm. Her tailored jacket had fallen open to reveal a coppery silk blouse. The fabric clung to her figure enticingly.
Yanking his gaze back to her face, Wyatt nodded toward the straight-backed chair opposite the desk. She settled onto the edge, one shapely knee crossed over the other in her narrow little skirt.
Sitting again, he perused her résumé, giving him a reason to take his eyes off her. “Tell me, Miss Foster. You appear well qualified for work in your own field. Why would you want a job as a nanny?”
Her lush mouth twitched in a sardonic smile. “I may be qualified, but times are tough. Right now I’m working twenty hours a week and camping out in my mother’s guest room. She sells real estate, so she’s struggling, too—and she has my younger brother to support. I’d like to contribute instead of feeling like a burden.”
“So it’s all about money.”
“No!” She stared down at her hands. When she looked up again he noticed her eyes for the first time. Framed by thick, black lashes, they were the color of aged whiskey with intriguing flecks of gold.
“There are many factors involved. Most of my friends have children.” The words sounded rehearsed. “I’ve been thinking that down the road a few years from now, if I don’t get married, I might try adoption, or even have a child by a donor. Meanwhile, I’d love the experience of caring for a little baby. Of course I can’t promise to stay for a long time....” Her husky voice trailed into a breath. “If you’re still interested, could you tell me more about the job? Otherwise, I’ll just leave now.”
She clasped her hands on her knees, looking so vulnerable that Wyatt almost melted. He was interested all right—interested in getting to know this woman better. But he couldn’t do or say anything that might make her hesitate to take the job. He needed a nanny for Chloe’s baby, and right now Leigh Foster was his only option.
On the other hand, he had to make sure she wasn’t out to exploit the situation.
Clearing his throat, he reached for the briefcase he’d left under the desk. “I’ll need to run a background check, of course,” he said, lifting out a manila folder. “But before we pursue this any further, would you be willing to sign a confidentiality agreement?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course. But why—?”
“You’re a journalist.” He slid a single page across the desktop. “And even if you weren’t I’d demand your signature on this document. Protecting the privacy of my family is incredibly important to me. You must agree that whether you take the job or not, nothing you see or hear will be carried away—starting right now. You’re not to publish it or share gossip with anyone, not even your own mother. Do I make myself clear?”
She leaned forward to scan the page—a boilerplate document outlining the legal consequences of sharing information in any form. The open neck of her blouse gave him a tantalizing glimpse of creamy flesh and black lace before he tore his eyes away. If he wanted her to take the job, it wouldn’t do to be caught ogling her cleavage or any other delicious part of her. Especially since she’d be sharing his home.
“Any questions?” he asked her.
She straightened, impaling him with her stunning eyes. “Just one, Mr. Richardson. Could you spare me a pen?”
* * *
Leigh scrawled her name along the blank line at the bottom of the page. Maybe if she did it fast enough, he wouldn’t notice that her hand was shaking.
The confidentiality agreement was no problem. Even without that piece of paper there was no way she’d reveal what she hoped to learn. But that didn’t ease her nervous jitters. If Wyatt Richardson knew why she was really here, she’d be up to her ears in you-know-what.
The truth was she knew a lot more about the man than she was letting on. Even under that silly baseball cap she’d have recognized the local celebrity who’d put Dutchman’s Creek on the map. In his younger days he’d been a daredevil downhill skier, winning several Olympic medals and enough product endorsements to make him rich. Coming home to Colorado he’d bought Wolf Ridge, a run-down resort that was little more than a hangout for local ski bums. Over the past fifteen years he’d built the place into an international ski destination that rivaled Aspen and Vail in everything but size.
That much was public knowledge. Discovering the details of his private life had taken some digging. But what Leigh learned had confirmed that she needed to be here today. There was no guarantee she’d be hired for the nanny job. But either way, she had to take this masquerade as far as it would go.
Right now, everything depended on her playing her cards carefully.
“Satisfied?” She slid the signed contract back across the desk. “I’m not looking for a story. I’m looking for a job.”
“Fine. Let’s see how it goes after we’ve talked.” He slid the baseball cap off his head and raked a hand through his thick, gray-flecked hair. He’d be a little past forty, she calculated. His athlete’s body, clad in jeans and a gray sweatshirt, was taut and muscular, his strongly featured face scoured by sun and wind. His eyes were a deep, startling Nordic blue. The year he’d won Olympic gold, a popular magazine had named him as one of the world’s ten sexiest men. From the looks of him, he hadn’t lost that edge.
It was public record that he’d been divorced for more than a decade. He looked as virile as a bull and, along with that, was certainly rich enough to have women falling at his feet, but he’d managed to keep his sex life out of the public eye—though, of course, in a small community like Dutchman’s Creek there was always talk. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t here to become one more notch on Wyatt Richardson’s bedpost.
Although the notion did trigger a pleasant sort of tingle between her thighs.
“Tell me about the baby,” she said.
“Yes. The baby.” He exhaled slowly, as if he were about to wade into battle. “My daughter’s. She’s sixteen.”
“You have a daughter?” Leigh feigned surprise.
“Her mother and I divorced when she was young. I didn’t see much of her growing up, but for reasons I won’t go into now, Chloe and the baby will be staying with me.”
“What about the father?” Her pulse shot to a gallop, the pressure hammering against her eardrums. She willed her expression to remain calm and pleasant.
“Chloe won’t give me a name. She says he’s history. I take it he’s just some boy she met while she and her mother were living here. But if I ever get my hands on the little bastard...”
One powerful fist crumpled the baseball cap. He released it with a muffled sound that could have been a sigh or a growl.
“That’s the least of my worries now. Chloe insists she wants to keep her baby. But she doesn’t know the first thing about being a mother. Lord, she’s barely more than a baby herself.” His cerulean eyes drilled into Leigh’s. “The nanny who accepts this job will be taking care of two children—the baby and his mother. Do you understand?”
Leigh had begun to breathe again. “I believe I do, Mr. Richardson.”
“Fine. And please call me Wyatt.” He rose, catching up the briefcase and jamming the cap back onto his head. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” She scrambled to her feet as he strode around the desk.
“I’m taking you to the hospital to meet Chloe. If she thinks you’ll do, I’ll be willing to hire you for two weeks’ probation. That should give me time to find someone else if things don’t work out. We can discuss salary on the way back here.”
Two weeks. High heels teetering, she struggled to keep pace with his strides. Next to a long-term job it was the best she could hope for. And even if he didn’t hire her she’d at least get to see the baby.
“My vehicle’s around back.” He paused to hold the door for her. The October sun was blinding after the dim hallway of the small office building. Beyond the town, the mountain slopes were a riot of green-gold aspen, scarlet maple and dark stands of pine. The light breeze carried a whisper of winter to come—the winter that would bring snow to the mountains and skiers flocking to the high canyon runs.
“Careful.” His hand steadied her elbow, guiding her around a broken piece of the asphalt parking lot. She could feel the power in his easy grip—a grip that remained even after they’d passed the danger spot.
She’d half hoped he’d be driving a sports car. But the only vehicle in the back parking lot was an elephant-sized black Hummer with oversized snow tires. “Sorry about the behemoth,” he muttered. “This is my snow vehicle. My regular car’s getting a brake job.”
When he opened the passenger door for her, Leigh realized that the floor was thigh-high. There was no step, just a grip handle on the frame inside the door. There was no way she could climb up without making a spectacle of herself in the pencil skirt and high heels she’d worn to look professional for the interview. Maybe she should’ve worn jeans and hiking boots.
He stood behind her, saying nothing. For heaven’s sake, was the man waiting for her to hitch up her skirt and give him a show?
Glancing back, she shot him an annoyed look. “If you wouldn’t mind...”
His chuckle caught her off guard. “I was waiting for you to ask. If I were to just grab you, I’d be liable to end up getting slapped.”
With that, he scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. Her breath stopped as his strong hands lifted her high and lowered her onto the leather seat. The subtle heat of his grip lingered as she fastened her safety belt. Her pulse was racing. As he strode around the vehicle and swung into the driver’s seat, she willed herself to take deep breaths. Wyatt Richardson was a compellingly attractive man, capable of making her hormones surge with a glance from those unearthly blue eyes. But Leigh knew better than to go down that road. Let him get close enough to discover the truth about her, and she’d be up the proverbial creek.
And she wouldn’t be the only one in trouble.
As the engine purred to life, she settled back into the seat. “So your daughter’s in the hospital. When did she have the baby?”
“Yesterday morning. An easy birth, or so I was told. She and the baby are doing fine. They should be ready to leave sometime tomorrow.”
“What about the girl’s mother? Is she in town to be with her daughter and see her grandchild?”
He winced as if she’d stuck him with something sharp. “Her mother’s in Chicago with her new husband. Evidently the marriage is on shaky ground. That’s why she chartered a plane for Chloe last week and sent her to me.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s monstrous.”
“Don’t judge her too harshly. The situation has us all thrown. I didn’t even know Chloe was pregnant till the girl climbed out of a taxi and rang my front doorbell. Frankly, I’m still in shock.”
And what about your poor daughter? Leigh thought it but she didn’t say it. For now, at least, she’d be wise to tread lightly.
He turned onto the side road that led to the county hospital. “I didn’t mean to dump all this on you before you met the girl. But at least you’ll know what you could be getting into. Chloe’s been through a devil of a time. And aside from taking her in and hiring somebody for the baby, I don’t know how to help her through this.”
“It sounds as if you care, at least. That should count for something.”
A bitter laugh rumbled in his throat. “Say that to Chloe. She’ll tell you that my caring’s come about fifteen years too late.”
He swung the Hummer into the parking lot and pulled into an empty space. After walking around to open the door on Leigh’s side, he held up his arms. Taking her cue from him, she placed her hands on his muscled shoulders. His grip around her waist was brief as he lowered her to the ground. But as he released her, their eyes met. His were sunk into weary shadows—the eyes of a man who’d spent some sleepless nights. A worried man, unsure, perhaps, for the first time in his life.
For the space of a breath his big hand lingered on her hip. As if suddenly aware, he pulled it away and took her arm. “Let’s go inside,” he said.
Leigh was familiar with the hospital, a sprawling one-story maze of wings and hallways. Having visited several friends there, she knew her way to the maternity ward. “Were you here when the baby was born?” she asked as Wyatt walked beside her.
“I was wrapping up a meeting and missed the delivery, but I saw Chloe in recovery. They’d given her an epidural for the birth. She was still groggy when I left. She probably won’t even remember I was there.”
Leigh glanced down a side hall where the nursery windows were located. She was hoping to see the baby for a moment, but Wyatt kept walking on down the corridor, checking the room numbers. He paused outside a door that was slightly ajar. “I guess this is it.”
“Go on in,” Leigh said. “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready to introduce me.”
Murmuring his thanks, he squared his shoulders, knocked lightly on the door and stepped into the room.
* * *
Chloe was sitting up in bed, peering into a small, round mirror as she dabbed mascara onto her eyelashes. With her mop of auburn curls, she looked like a little girl playing with her mom’s makeup. How could this child be a mother?
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said.
“Hello, Daddy.” Her voice was edgy. The bouquet of pink roses he’d sent earlier had been shoved into a space above the sink.
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I’m told you have a beautiful little boy. How are you feeling?”
“How do you think?” She twisted the top onto the mascara tube. “I texted my friends. They’re coming by to see the baby. His name’s Michael, by the way. Mikey for now.”
“Did you call your mother?”
She shrugged. “I sent a text. She’s on her way to New York with Andre. He has some kind of gallery show.”
“So she’s not coming to see the baby?”
“Why should she? Mom’s still in denial about being a grandma. Anyway, who needs her?” Chloe fished a lipstick out of her purse and swiped the burgundy hue onto her cupid’s bow mouth.
Wyatt lowered himself onto a handy chair. “We need to talk, Chloe.”
“What’s to talk about?” She looked at him warily, as if bracing herself for a fight. “You already know I’m going to keep him.”
Yes, she’d made that completely clear, despite his many arguments against it. But he wouldn’t rehash that now, not when he could see how tired she looked. “I understand. And I hope you know that you and Mikey will have a home with me for as long as you need it. But what about the rest? Have you ever taken care of a baby?”
Her sky-blue eyes cast him a blank look.
“For starters...” He wrestled with the delicate question that needed to be asked. “How are you going to feed him?”
Her eyes widened. “You mean, am I...? OMG, no way! I’m not going around with saggy boobs for the rest of my life—and I do plan to have a life, Daddy. I want my baby, but you can’t expect me to sit home with him all the time. As soon as you buy me a car, I’m going to—”
“The car can wait.” It was all Wyatt could do to keep from snapping at her. “Meanwhile you’ve got a child to take care of. Do you even know how to change a diaper?”
She stared at him as if he’d just climbed out of a flying saucer.
“Goodness, Daddy. What do you think we’re getting a nanny for?”
* * *
Waiting outside the half-opened door, Leigh heard everything. Wyatt had given her an inkling of what to expect. Now the impact of what she’d be dealing with smacked her full in the face. She could see what he’d meant when he’d said she’d have two children in her care. And Chloe sounded like a handful. Only the thought of the baby kept her from turning around and walking out of the hospital.
Seconds later he reappeared in the doorway, his face a mask of frustration. “Sorry you had to hear that,” he muttered.
“It’s just as well that I did.” Following his lead, she allowed him to usher into the room. Chloe was sitting up against the pillows. Even in the drab hospital gown she looked like a petite little doll with Shirley Temple curls and china-blue eyes—almost as blue as her father’s.
“Chloe,” Wyatt said, “this is Miss Foster. Unless you have some objection, I plan on asking her to become your son’s nanny.”
The girl scrutinized her carefully. Leigh wondered what she was looking for. Chloe seemed to be wondering the same thing as uncertainty passed over her face. She stole a glance at her father, but he seemed to be replying to a message on his phone. “Fine,” the girl said, clearly trying too hard to sound authoritative. “She’ll do.”
“Thank you.” The less said, the better, Leigh resolved.
Chloe glanced toward the door, where the nurse had appeared with a blue-wrapped bundle. “I hope you’re not staying much longer,” she said. “My friends are coming over to see Mikey, and they’ll be here any minute.”
“We were just about to leave.” Wyatt eased toward the door as the nurse entered.
“Wait!” Leigh said, seizing the moment. “Since I’ll be helping with your baby, Chloe, would you mind if I held him for a minute?”
“Whatever.”
Leigh felt her heart drop as the nurse placed the warm bundle in her arms. He felt so tiny, almost weightless. Scarcely daring to breathe, she pulled down the edge of the blanket to reveal the small, rosebud face. Little Mikey was beautiful, with his mother’s blue eyes and russet curls. But it was his other features she looked for and found—the aquiline nose and square chin, the ears that didn’t quite lie flat, the dark, straight brows—all coming together in one perfect package.
Leigh fought back welling tears. There could be no more doubt. She was holding her brother’s child.
Two
With her emotions on the brink of spilling over, Leigh turned toward Wyatt. “Time for you two to get acquainted,” she said, thrusting the blue bundle toward him.
He seemed to hesitate. Then his big hands took the slight weight, holding the child away from his body like a jar of live honeybees. His expression was a stoic mask. Leigh stifled her dismay. Wyatt hadn’t asked for this little boy to come into his life, she reminded herself. Still it wouldn’t hurt for him to show some affection. How could anyone with a soul not love a baby?
Leigh noticed that Chloe was focused on the sight of her son in her father’s arms as well, but Chloe’s expression was difficult to read. Sadness? Wistfulness? Worry? Envy? Dismay? Maybe all of the above—or maybe none of them. Whatever she was feeling, she didn’t say a word. Leigh sighed, the task before her looming like a mountain. It wouldn’t be easy, maybe not even possible. But in the time allowed, she would do her best to help these people become a family.
* * *
Wyatt gazed down at the tiny face. The eyes that looked up at him were blue like Chloe’s, but with an openly trusting quality to them that Chloe’s hadn’t held in years. He saw his daughter in the wispy amber curls and full, heart-shaped mouth. But some features were unfamiliar. The unknown boy, who’d taken what he wanted without a second thought, had left traces of himself, too.
The boy who’d derailed Chloe’s young life.
If Wyatt had known about the pregnancy early on, would he have discouraged her from having this baby? Chloe was his only child, and he’d had such plans for her—college, maybe a career and a good marriage with children born at the right time. But it was too late for questions and regrets. The baby was here and she seemed determined to keep it. They would have to make the best of a bad situation.
But Lord, where would he find the wisdom? Where would he find the patience to be there for his daughter and grandchild? It just wasn’t in him.
Sensing his tension, perhaps, the baby broke into a plaintive wail. The knot in Wyatt’s stomach jerked tight. Now what? He didn’t know anything about babies, especially how to deal with crying ones.
“You take him.” He shoved the mewling child into Leigh’s arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chloe flinch. Something here didn’t seem right. But whatever it was, Wyatt didn’t know how to fix it. As a man, he’d taken pride in his ability to handle any situation. But right now he felt just plain lost.
* * *
Leigh cradled the baby close. He stopped crying and snuggled into her warmth, his rosebud mouth searching instinctively for something to suck. Aching, Leigh brushed a fingertip over the satiny head. He was so tiny, so sweet and so helpless. How could she do this job without losing her heart?
From the open doorway, delighted teenage squeals shattered the stillness.
“Chloe! Is that your baby?”
“OMG, he’s so little!”
“Let me hold him!”
Three pretty, stylish girls swarmed into the room, laden with wrapped gifts and shopping bags, which they piled on the foot of the bed. With a sigh of relief, Leigh surrendered little Mikey to one of them. Her eyes met Wyatt’s across the crowded room. He nodded toward the door. It was time for the grown-ups to leave.
“You look rattled. How about some coffee?” Wyatt’s hand brushed the small of Leigh’s back, setting off a shimmer of awareness as he guided her into the corridor.
“Thanks, that sounds good. I’d guess we’re both rattled.” Leigh’s knees were quivering. Only the arrival of Chloe’s girlfriends had saved her crumbling composure.
Kevin’s baby. Her own little nephew. And she couldn’t risk telling a soul.
Leigh and her teenage brother had always been close. Last spring Kevin had confided to her that he’d gotten a girl pregnant. Chloe Richardson—her dad owns Wolf Ridge and she goes to that snooty private school. She texted me that she was pregnant. I offered to...you know, man up and be responsible. But she said to forget it because she planned to get rid of the kid. She was moving away and never wanted to hear from me again. Promise me you won’t tell Mom, Leigh. It would kill her.
Leigh had kept her promise, believing the issue would never surface again. Then a few days ago, as she was proofing the ads for the paper, she’d discovered that Wyatt Richardson needed a nanny. Some simple math and a discreet call to the hospital had confirmed all she needed to know.
Telling Kevin was out of the question. After a long phase of teenage rebellion he was finally thinking of college and working toward a scholarship. The news that he had a son could fling the impulsive boy off course again. Worse, it could send him blundering into the path of a man angry and powerful enough to destroy his future. Leigh couldn’t risk letting that happen. But she wanted—needed—to know and help Kevin’s baby.
“Here we are.” Wyatt opened the door to the hospital cafeteria. “Nothing fancy, but I can vouch for the coffee.” Finding an empty table, he pulled out a chair for Leigh. She waited while he went through the line and returned with two steaming mugs along with napkins, spoons, cream and sugar.
Seating himself across from her, he leaned back in his chair and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Well, what do you think?” he demanded.
Leigh took her time, adding cream to her coffee and stirring it with a spoon. “The baby’s beautiful. But I get the impression your daughter is scared to death. She’s going to need a lot of help.”
“Are you prepared to give her that help?”
Leigh studied him over the rim of her mug. She saw a successful man, a winner in every way that mattered to the world. She saw a tired man, his jaw unshaven and his eyes laced with fatigue. She saw a father at his wits’ end, and she knew what he wanted to hear. But if she couldn’t be honest in everything, she would at least be honest in this.
“Assuming the job’s mine, I’ll do my best to give her some support. But make no mistake, Wyatt, it’s the baby I’ll be there for. Chloe’s your child. If you think you can step aside and leave her parenting to me, we’ll both end up failing her. Do I make myself clear?”
For an instant he looked as if she’d doused him with a fire hose. Then a spark of annoyance flared in his deep blue eyes. One dark eyebrow shifted upward. Had she said too much and blown her chance? As he straightened in his chair, Leigh braced herself for a storm. But he only exhaled, like a steam locomotive braking to a halt.
“Good. You’re not afraid to speak your mind. With Chloe, that trait will come in handy.”
“But did you hear what I said?”
“Heard and duly noted. We’ll see how things go.” He whipped a pen out of his pocket and wrote something on a napkin. “This is the weekly salary I propose to pay you. I trust it’s enough.”
He slid the napkin toward her. Leigh gasped. The amount was more than twice what she’d anticipated. “That’s very...generous,” she mumbled.
“I expect you’ll earn every cent. Until Chloe and the baby settle into a routine, you’ll be needed pretty much 24/7. After things calm down we’ll talk about schedules and time off. In the next few days, I’ll have a formal contract drawn up for you. That nondisclosure document you signed will be part of it. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Leigh felt as if she’d just consigned away her soul. But it was all for Kevin’s baby. She took a lingering sip of her coffee, which had cooled. “So when do you want me to start?”
“How about now? The nursery needs to be set up. I’d intended for that to happen before the baby was born, but Chloe couldn’t make up her mind on what she wanted. It can’t wait any longer—you’ll just have to decide for her. Earlier today I called Baby Mart and opened an account. After I take you back to your car, you can go there and pick out whatever the baby’s going to need—clothes, diapers, formula, a crib, the works. Everything top-of-the-line. I’ve arranged for special delivery by the end of the day.” He rose from his chair, all energy and impatience. “After that, you should have a couple of hours to resign from the paper, pack your things and report to my house.”
“You want me there tonight?”
“If the baby’s coming home tomorrow, we’ve got to have the nursery ready and waiting. Will you need directions to the house?”
“No. I know where you live.” No one who’d been to Wolf Ridge could miss the majestic glass-and-timber house that sat like a baron’s castle on a rocky bluff, overlooking the resort. Finding her way shouldn’t be a problem, even in the dark. But Leigh couldn’t ignore a feeling of unease, as if she were being swept into a maelstrom.
Wyatt Richardson was a man who’d started poor and achieved all he had through force of will. Mere moments after she’d agreed to work for him, he was taking over her life, barking orders as if he owned her—which to his way of thinking, he probably did.
Since he was her employer, she would put up with a certain amount of it. But if the man expected her to be a doormat he was in for a surprise. She would be little Mikey’s advocate, speaking up for his welfare, even if it meant bashing heads with Wyatt.
Kevin’s child had been born into a family with an immature teenage mother, an uncaring grandmother and a reluctant grandfather, whose idea of family duty was to turn everything over to the hired help. In the hospital room, when she’d given Wyatt the baby, he’d handled the tiny blue bundle like a ticking bomb. He seemed to be in denial about his grandson’s very existence, never referring to him by name, only calling him “the baby.”
Changing things would be up to her. She could only hope she was wise enough, and tough enough, for the challenge.
* * *
Wyatt boosted Leigh into the Hummer, struggling against the awareness of his hands sliding over her warm curves. Her fragrance was clean and subtle, teasing his senses to the point of arousal. Her long legs, clad in silky hose, flashed past his eyes as she climbed onto the seat. What would she do if she knew he was imagining those legs wrapping his hips?
She’d probably kick him halfway across the parking lot.
What had gotten into him? Didn’t he have enough trouble on his hands with Chloe and the baby? Did he really need to complicate things with an attraction toward the woman he’d hired to be the nanny?
He’d never had trouble getting bed partners. All he needed to do was stroll through the resort lodge and make eye contact with an attractive female. If she was available, the rest would be easy.
So why was he suddenly craving a woman who came with a hands-off sign?
Maybe that was the problem. With Chloe and the baby sharing his house, an affair with the nanny would be a dicey proposition. For that matter, with Chloe in residence, bringing any woman to his bedroom would be a bad idea—just one of the ways his life was about to change.
But right now, that was the least of his worries.
Closing the door, he walked around the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat. Leigh had fastened her safety belt and was attempting to tug her little skirt over her lovely knees. Wyatt willed himself to avert his eyes.
“Just for the record,” he said, starting the engine, “we don’t hold with formal dress at the house. Pack things you’ll be comfortable in, like jeans and sneakers.”
Or maybe you should dress like a nun, to remind me to keep my hands off you.
“Jeans and sneakers will be fine.” Her laugh sounded strained. “I don’t suppose your grandson will care what I’m wearing.”
“My grandson. Lord, don’t remind me. I’m still getting used to that idea.”
“This isn’t about you. It’s about an innocent baby who’ll need a world of love—and a young girl learning to be a mother. You’ll need to be there for both of them.”
Isn’t that where you come in? Wyatt knew better than to voice that thought. Leigh had expressed some strong notions about family responsibility. But wasn’t he doing enough, taking Chloe and her baby under his roof, buying everything they needed and hiring a nanny to help out?
Back when he was married, Tina had complained that he was never home—but blast it, he’d been busy working to support his wife and daughter. He’d been determined to give them a better life than he’d had growing up.
Even after the divorce he’d taken good care of them. He’d given Tina a million-dollar house, paid generous alimony and child support and always remembered Chloe’s birthday and Christmas with expensive gifts—gifts he’d never have been able to afford if he hadn’t poured so much time and energy into the resort.
Hadn’t he done enough? Was it fair that he was expected to finish raising a spoiled teenager with a baby so Tina could run off with her twenty-seven-year-old husband?
“There’s my car.” Leigh pointed to a rusting station wagon parked outside the office he’d used for the interviews. One look was enough to tell him that the car would never make it up the canyon on winter roads. He would need to get her something safe to drive before the first snowfall.
Wyatt pulled the Hummer into a nearby parking place. Steeling himself against her nearness, he climbed out and opened the door on the passenger side. Leigh was waiting for him to boost her to the ground. She leaned outward, her hands stretching toward his shoulders. Wyatt was reaching for her waist when her high heel caught on the edge of the floor mat. Yanked off balance, she tumbled forward on top of him.
He managed to break her fall—barely. For a frantic instant she clung to him, her arms clasping his neck, her skirt hiked high enough for one leg to hook his waist. But his grip wasn’t secure enough to hold her in place. Pulled by her own weight, she slid down his body. Wyatt stifled a groan as his sex responded to the delicious pressure of her curves pressed against him so intimately.
Her sudden gasp told him she’d felt his response. He glimpsed wide eyes and flaming cheeks as she slipped downward. Then her feet touched the ground and she stumbled back, breaking contact. They stood facing each other, both of them half-breathless. Her hair was mussed and one of her shoes was missing. She tugged her skirt down over her thighs.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Wyatt tried his best to laugh it off. “No, I’m fine. But that maneuver could’ve gotten us both arrested.”
Her narrowing gaze told him she didn’t appreciate his humor. It appeared that, despite her naughty little skirt, Miss Leigh Foster was a prim and proper lady. All to the good. He’d be wise to keep that in mind.
“Excuse me, but I need my shoe.” She teetered on one high-heeled pump. Wyatt retrieved the mate from the floor of the SUV, along with her brown leather purse. She took them from him, wiggling her foot into the shoe.
“You’ll be all right?” he asked her.
“Fine. I’ll be going straight to Baby Mart from here, then home. I should be knocking on your door by nightfall.”
“Plan on dinner at the house, with me. And remember you’re to say nothing about Chloe and her baby. All the people at Baby Mart need to know is who’s paying for the order and where it’s to be delivered.” He fished a business card out of his wallet and scribbled his private cell number on the back. “Any questions or problems, give me a call.”
“Got it.” She tucked the card in her purse, pulled out her keys and walked away without a backward glance. He watched her go, her deliberate strides punctuating the sway of her hips. Her clicking heels tapped out a subtle code of annoyance. Could she be upset with him?
Wyatt watched the station wagon shudder to a start, spitting gravel as it pulled into the street. No, he hadn’t read her wrong. The woman was in a snit about something.
Maybe she thought he’d pushed her too hard, giving her orders right out of the starting gate. But since he was paying her salary, it made sense to let her know what he expected. After all, he was her employer, not her lover.
And that, he mused, was too damned bad.
Returning to his vehicle, he pulled into traffic and headed toward the road that would take him out of town. He’d gone less than two blocks when he saw something ahead that hadn’t been there earlier. City workers were digging up the asphalt to fix what looked like a broken water main. Neon orange barricades blocked the roadway. A flashing detour sign pointed drivers to the right, down a narrow side street.
He’d made the right turn and was following a blue Pontiac toward the next intersection before he realized where he was. A vague nausea congealed in the pit of his stomach. He never drove this street if he could help it. There were too many memories here—most of them bad.
Most of those memories centered around the house partway down the block, on the left. With its peeling paint and weed-choked yard, it looked much the same as when he’d lived there growing up. Wyatt willed himself to look away as he passed it, but he’d seen enough to trigger a memory—one of the worst.
He’d been twelve at the time, coming home one summer night after his first real job—sweeping up at the corner grocery. The owner, Mr. Papanikolas, had paid him two dollars and given him some expired milk and a loaf of bread to take home to his mother. It wasn’t much, but every little bit helped.
His mouth had gone dry when he’d spotted his father’s old Ranchero parked at the curb. Pops had come by, most likely wanting money for the cheap whiskey he drank. He didn’t spend much time at home, but he knew when his wife got paid at the motel. If she gave him the cash, there’d be nothing to live on for the next two weeks.
Wyatt was tempted to stay outside, especially when he heard his father’s cursing voice. But he couldn’t leave his mother alone. Pops would be less apt to hurt her if he was there to see.
Leaving the bread and milk by the porch, he mounted the creaking steps and pushed open the door. By the light of the single bulb he saw his mother cowering on the ragged sofa. Her thin face was splotched with red, her eye swollen with a fresh bruise. His father, a hulking man in a dirty undershirt, loomed over her, his hands clenched into fists.
“Give me the money, bitch!” he snarled. “Give it to me now or you won’t walk out of this house!”
“Don’t hurt her!” Wyatt sprang between them, pulling the two rumpled bills out of his pocket. “Here, I’ve got money! Take it and go!”
“Out of my way, brat!” Cuffing Wyatt aside, he raised a fist to punch his wife again. Wyatt seized a light wooden chair. Swinging it with all his twelve-year-old strength, he struck his father on the side of the head.
The blow couldn’t have done much damage. But it hurt enough to turn the man’s rage in a new direction. One kick from a heavy boot sent the boy sprawling. The last thing Wyatt remembered was the blistering whack of a belt on his body, and his mother’s screams....
Forcing the images from his mind, Wyatt turned left at the intersection and followed the detour signs back to the main road. His father had taken the money that night. And while his mother rubbed salve on his welts, he’d vowed to her that he would change their lives. One day he’d be rich enough to buy her all the things she didn’t have now. And she would never have to change another bed or scrub another toilet again.
He’d accomplished his goals and more. But his mother hadn’t lived to see his Olympic triumph or the successes that followed. She’d died of cancer while he was still in high school.
His father had gone to prison for killing a man in a bar fight. Years later, still behind bars, he’d dropped dead from a heart attack.
Wyatt had not attended the burial service.
He’d put that whole life behind him—had made himself into a new man who was nothing at all like his dad.
So why did he feel so lost when it came to dealing with his daughter?
Not that he didn’t love Chloe. He’d never denied the girl anything that might make her happy. He’d been the best provider a man could be and not once—not ever—had he raised a hand against her. But now it slammed home that in spite of all the work he’d done and the things he’d bought, he still didn’t know the first thing about being a father.
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.
Four
Leigh opened one eye, found the bedside clock and groaned. Seven-thirty. Of all mornings to oversleep, she had to pick this one.
When she swung her legs off the bed, she noticed something on the nightstand. The baby book. How many chapters had she gotten through before she fell asleep? And how many of those pages could she actually remember? She could only hope she’d have time for a refresher while Wyatt was picking up Chloe and the baby.
She was walking away from the bed when it struck her—she had no memory of closing the book and laying it on the nightstand. And she certainly hadn’t switched off the bedside lamp before dropping off. Somebody had looked in on her in the night. And that somebody was wise to her lack of experience.
She stifled a groan. Not a great way to start a new job.
The aroma of fresh coffee wafted under the door and into her nostrils. Her shower would have to wait. Right now she needed to get herself downstairs and convince Wyatt she had everything under control.
Yanking on her jeans and a black turtleneck, she splashed her face, brushed her teeth and ran a hasty comb through her hair. For now, that would have to do.
Still barefoot, she followed her nose, padding down the stairs and into the kitchen. Wyatt sat sipping coffee at the table, dressed in jeans and a dark blue cashmere sweater that matched his eyes. Those eyes took her measure, from her bare toes to her still-tousled locks. “Coffee’s on the counter,” he said pleasantly. “I put out a mug for you. How did you sleep?”
“Too well. That featherbed is decadent.”
“And your feet? You’re going to need your shoes today.”
“They’ll be fine.” Leigh inhaled the fragrant steam as she poured the coffee. “Cream?”
“In the fridge. If there’s anything you’d like for the kitchen, you can order it through the lodge by phone or email. The number and email address are on the contact list by the phone. It’ll usually be delivered by the end of the day.”
“Thanks. I’ll make a list after I find out what Chloe would like. How soon will you be picking her and the baby up?”
“They should be ready any time after ten. But I changed my mind about going. I’m sending you instead.”
“Me?” A reflexive grab barely saved Leigh’s mug from crashing to the floor.
“Since I’ve already paid the hospital there’s no reason for me to be there. And I’ve got an important phone conference scheduled for ten o’clock.” He pulled a chair out from the table. “Sit down, Leigh. We need to talk.”
She sat, perching on the edge of the chair like a child about to be punished. What now?
He turned his seat to face her. “When I hire someone I usually give them a written job description. I’ve never hired a nanny before, but we both need to know what’s expected.”
Leigh nodded, holding her tongue. Better to keep still than to speak and make a fool of herself.
“You’ve made it clear that your first priority will be the baby. That’s fine. But you need to be aware of my other concerns.”
“Of course.” She willed herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were the color of a deep mountain lake—and at this moment, just as cold, she thought.
“One concern, a big one, is my family’s privacy. Chloe’s friends know about the baby, of course. So does the hospital staff. All of them have been warned to keep the matter under wraps. I won’t have my daughter falling prey to gossip, especially if the press gets involved. And I won’t have her future reputation tainted by one careless mistake.”
How could anyone look at that beautiful boy and call him a mistake? Keeping that thought to herself, Leigh nodded her understanding.
“Is that why you want me to drive her home—so she and the baby won’t be seen with you and recognized?”
“In part.” He rose to put his empty cup in the sink. “That will be one of your prime responsibilities—keeping a lid on things. For now, at least, Chloe’s not to take the baby out in public—for safety reasons as well as privacy. You’re to track her online activity, Twitter, Facebook, anything that could be seen by the wrong people—”
“No.”
He stared in surprise as she rose. “No?”
“I’m a nanny, not a spy. I understand your wanting to protect her, Wyatt, but the one who monitors her computer and phone should be her father.”
His scowl darkened. She plunged ahead before he could interrupt.
“Think about it. I’m here in a nurturing role, to care for the baby and help Chloe learn to be a mother. She needs to trust me. If that’s to happen I can’t wear two hats. I can’t support her and police her at the same time.”
“So you’re saying I should be the bad guy.”
“If that’s what you want. You must have surveillance people at the resort. You’ll find a way.”
He took his time rinsing his mug and stowing it in the dishwasher. “All right, you win—for now. But there’s one more thing.”
“I’m listening.” Leigh remained on her feet, as did he.
“Chloe’s young and she’s bright. If she could put this incident behind her, she could still have a promising future.”
Incident? A baby?
“If she sticks with her choice to raise the boy, I’ll respect her decision,” he continued. “But you and I both know it will change her life, and not for the better. What I’m hoping is that soon she’ll be sensible and give him up for adoption—to a good family, of course. I trust you’ll do your best to steer her in that direction. In the long run it would be better for her and for the baby. Don’t you agree?”
Leigh stood rooted to the floor as his words sank in. Sensible? Yes. But oh, so cold. She found her voice.
“You’re Chloe’s father, and I can see where you’re coming from. I’ll give the matter some thought.”
“Then let me give you something else to think about. I’m sure you’re aware that if Chloe gives up the baby it will mean the end of your job here. In the spirit of fairness, if that becomes her decision and you support her in it, I’m willing to offer you a severance package of twenty-five thousand dollars. I’ll have it written into your contract.”
Leigh willed herself to appear calm. Inside, she was reeling—not so much because of the amount, but because of his icy determination, and his assumption that her help could be bought.
“That’s a generous offer,” she replied. “I’ll keep it in mind. But right now it’s getting late. If I’m to be at the hospital by ten, I need to get ready....”
With her voice threatening to break, she turned and headed out of the kitchen.
“Leigh, one more thing.”
She froze but didn’t turn around.
“I just thought you should know. You have your shirt on inside out.”
Stifling a groan, she fled up the stairs.
* * *
Wyatt stood on the balcony, watching the black sport wagon disappear behind the trees. He’d had the vehicle brought up from the resort for Leigh’s temporary use. The Hummer would be hard for Chloe to climb into, and the girl would turn up her pretty nose at that rust bucket Leigh had driven here.
Later today he’d contact his supplier for a sturdy wagon with all-wheel drive. Chloe would be pestering him for a sports car but she wasn’t getting it before spring, and only then if she showed some responsibility. For now, she and Leigh could share the new vehicle.
Wyatt could afford as many luxury cars as he wanted; but the mountain property didn’t have enough level ground to waste on a big garage. The one at the rear of his house had room for just three vehicles—the Hummer, the new SUV he planned to buy and the Bentley that was his one indulgence, a vintage 1976 Corniche that he’d restored himself after his divorce. He’d be getting it back from the mechanic later today with new brakes. He also owned a couple of snowmobiles, which he kept in a shed, mostly for emergencies.
A scrub jay fluttered onto a nearby pine branch, cocked its head and regarded him with curious eyes. The bird’s presence reminded Wyatt why he’d chosen to live in this remote spot overlooking the canyon. The place was wild and clean, and he’d done his best to keep it that way with solar panels on the roof and state-of-the-art recycling technology. For the past ten years he’d enjoyed his privacy here. Now all that was about to change.
Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad. He’d enjoyed seeing Leigh come into the kitchen this morning, fresh-faced, rumpled and hastily dressed, as if she’d just tumbled out of bed. The warm, pleasant feeling had lingered like an aura—until they’d started talking.
Leigh had barely spoken while he helped secure the baby carrier in the car’s backseat; and she’d driven off without even saying goodbye. Her silence had spoken volumes about his offer and what she thought of it.
Wyatt didn’t take well to being denied. In fact, if he’d known how headstrong Leigh was, he might not have hired her in the first place.
Not just headstrong, he mused. There was something unsettling about the woman. Something that didn’t add up. She was too sophisticated, too self-assured to settle for a job like this one. So why had she taken it? Her reasons from the interview didn’t hold water. If she was as experienced with babies as she’d implied, why had she been reading that baby book in the middle of the night?
Who was she? What did she really want?
* * *
Leigh managed to hold herself together until she was sure the car couldn’t be seen from the house. Then she pulled off the road, pressed her shaking hands to her face and allowed reality to sink in.
Wyatt Richardson didn’t want his precious grandson. And he expected her to talk Chloe into giving the boy up. He’d even offered her money.
How was she supposed to deal with that?
She knew that Wyatt was thinking of Chloe’s future. As far as he was concerned, the baby was an unlucky accident to be hushed up and sent away for the good of all concerned. Her heart rebelled at the thought of it...but she forced herself to take a deep breath and think with her head.
Was he right? Would little Mikey be better off with two adoptive parents than with an unmarried teenage mother and a grandfather who only wanted him gone? Maybe. But even if Chloe decided to take the adoption route today, Leigh was certain it would still take time to find the right parents and get through the paperwork. And in the meantime, the baby was going to need someone on his side, to fight for his rights and his welfare. For now, she would be that someone. And she would do everything in her power to see that whatever choice was made would be driven by love, not by expediency.
But she couldn’t be there forever. When the time came, and she’d done all she could...
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