A Nanny In The Family

The need to hold him, to press his sweetly rounded little body close to her heart, left Nicole aching. But she dared not gratify that need; the tears simmered too close to the surface, threatening to gush forth and destroy the image she’d struggled so hard to present. Instead she turned aside, quickly, before the spasm contorting her features gave her away, rummaged blindly in her bag for a tissue, and dabbed at her nose.

“Forgive me,” she said, praying the Commander hadn’t noticed anything amiss. “I thought I felt a sneeze coming on but it changed its mind.”

“You have a cold, perhaps?”

“No,” she hastened to assure him. “I’m as healthy as the proverbial horse.” Then before she gave rise to any other suspicions, she squatted down and drummed up a smile for Tommy. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m Nicole.”

“Hi,” he said, and she thought that if angels spoke, they would sound just as he did.

“That’s a really nice quilt you’ve got. Do you take it to bed with you?”

“Yes,” he said, detaching himself from his uncle’s leg and advancing a step or two closer to her. “It’s my dee-dee.”

“It’s a blanket, Tom,” the Commander said, kindly enough. “Big boys don’t use baby talk. Let me see you shake hands with Miss Bennett.”

Heavenly days, the man had no more idea how to speak to a four-year-old than she had to an orangutan! “Why don’t you show me the garden, instead?” she said, sensing the child’s discomfort with the adult behavior expected of him. “If your uncle doesn’t mind...?”

Somewhat after the fact, she glanced at the Commander. “Not at all,” he said. “It will give you a chance to become better acquainted. Go ahead and show Miss Bennett the garden, Tom.”

“All right.” Tommy perked up. “But not the pool. I’m not allowed to go to the pool by myself. It’s against the rules.”

“Not the pool,” Nicole agreed. “I’d rather see the flowers, instead.”

He considered her for a moment, then came forward and took her hand. “I have a garden at home,” he told her chattily. “I planted seeds in it and watered them.”

“Did you?” she said, enchanted by him.

“Yes. And they grew as big as a tree.” He gestured grandly, his face alive with excitement.

“Now, Tom!” his “uncle” warned. “Remember we talked about exaggerating? Stick to the facts, please.”

Truly, she would need to tape her mouth shut if this was the man’s idea of dealing with a child of four! Swallowing the objections fairly itching to make themselves heard, Nicole gave Tommy’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

It didn’t console him. “I’m just teasing,” he said, the animation in his face seeping away and his lip trembling ominously. “Mommy laughs when I tease her. I want to see my mommy. Can I go home now?”

“He keeps asking me that,” the Commander muttered, a flash of panic sparking in his blue eyes, “and I don’t know quite what to tell him.”

“Since you’re so anxious to stick to the facts, perhaps you should tell him the truth,” she said, then turned again to her nephew. “You’re living here now, darling, but we can go and see your house sometime, if you like.”

“Will Mommy be there?” he asked, the question enough to bring the lump back to Nicole’s throat, bigger than ever.

“No, Tommy. But perhaps we can find a picture of her.”

“Oh.” He fingered the quilt again. “And one of Daddy, as well, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

He tilted his head and smiled at her. “The flowers are red,” he said.

Grateful beyond words that he’d chosen to change the subject before she collapsed in yet another soggy heap of tears, Nicole said teasingly, “What, all of them?”

“And yellow and purple.” He tugged on her hand. “And pink and black and purple.”

“Black?” she echoed, allowing him to lead her out of the French doors and into the sunlight. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen black flowers before. Show them to me.”

“There are no black flowers, Tom,” the Commander chastised. “You mustn’t tell untruths.”

Oh, please! Nicole rolled her eyes and wondered if the man had any memory at all of being young and full of wonder at a world whose magic was limited only by the scope of imagination.

“Purple,” Tommy said obligingly. “Very purple. I prefer purple flowers.”

“You prefer?” Nicole laughed for what seemed the first time in years.

“He uses some very adult words at times,” the Commander said. “Then, for no reason, he suddenly reverts to baby talk which I must admit I find annoying.”

You would, she thought. You’d prefer him to take a giant leap from infancy to adulthood, with nothing in between to cushion the transition. “They all do, Commander, at this age. It’s not uncommon and he’ll stop a lot sooner if we don’t make a big deal about it.”

“You might be right, I suppose.”

“I am right,” she assured him. “Trust me, I’ve handled enough four-year-olds to know.”

He inclined his head in what she supposed was agreement and removed a key from a ring he withdrew from his pocket. “I’ll leave the two of you to become better acquainted. If you’d like to go down to the beach, there are steps at the end of the property but you’ll need this to get through the gate. Please be sure you lock it behind you when you come back. I don’t want the boy going down there unsupervised. The tides are treacherous.”

He stood on the patio and watched them a moment or two then turned back to the house at the sound of a woman’s voice, too silvery to be Janet’s, calling his name. Nicole heard the deep rumble of his response and a waterfall of feminine laughter drift out on the still air. Who was the visitor? she wondered. The woman in his life?

She hoped so. The more he was occupied with other affairs, the less time he would have to interfere in her relationship with Tommy.

She looked down at the child by her side and felt her heart swell with love. He was blond and blue-eyed, like his mother. His skin was soft and fine, his cheeks pink, his sturdy little legs slightly suntanned.

Nicole wanted to hug him fiercely to her, to kiss him and tell him that she loved him, but reminded herself that although she knew everything about him, he knew nothing of her. Such a display of affection would make him uneasy and the last thing she wanted was for the Commander to pick up on that and decide she wasn’t suited to the job, after all.

They came to the gate, set in a brick wall at the cliff’s edge. There were a hundred and eighty-eight steps leading down the other side, winding under trees bent by winter gales into weird and wonderful shapes, and protected on each side by a split cedar railing.

When they reached the bottom, Tommy tugged his hand free and raced away from her across the sand, sheer exuberance in every line of his perfect little body.

“I will take care of him, Arlene,” Nicole whispered, never taking her eyes off him. “You and I were robbed of twenty-five years of knowing we were sisters but I will make sure your son never forgets you. Your baby will be safe with me.”

It was the most sacred promise she’d ever made, one she’d hold to no matter what the cost.

CHAPTER TWO

“WELL, you’ve finally come back!”

Still blinded by the sun’s glare, it took Nicole a moment or two to discern the owner of the amused voice that greeted her when she and Tommy returned to the library.

She squinted at the figure reclining in one of two leather wing chairs beside a fireplace heaped with dried peony blossoms. “Were we gone very long?”

“Pierce is about ready to call out the National Guard.” The woman was elegantly thin and quite startlingly beautiful. “Being thrust into instant fatherhood has made him very nervous. He’s afraid you’ve kidnapped the boy.”

“I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“Oh, you didn’t worry me,” the woman assured her. “But Pierce is taking his guardianship responsibilities very seriously and seems to feel he has to be on patrol twenty-four hours a day. Are you going to take the job?”

“If it’s offered to me, yes.”

“I’m sure it will be.” The woman ran a speculative hazel gaze over Nicole, from her head to her toes and back again. “You certainly have my vote.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. You’ve got that look of durability about you that the job requires, although you do dress somewhat more stylishly than I’d have thought suitable.” She yawned delicately. “Better you than me, is all I can say.”

“You don’t care for children?” Nicole asked, feeling a bit like a Clydesdale horse being assessed for working stamina.

“Of course I do—at a distance. But I certainly don’t want them planting their sticky little paws all over my good clothes. I’d look out for that rather nice skirt, if I were you. It won’t last half an hour in this place.”

“I see.” Protective instincts on full alert, Nicole drew Tommy to her and stroked his hair. “Where is the Commander?”

“Having a word with Miss Janet. We won’t be here for dinner, which I daresay will displease her no end.”

“I see,” Nicole said again, not at all sure she liked what she was, in fact, seeing. From her expression and tone, it was clear the woman cared for Janet about as much as she cared for children, which wasn’t much.

The silence which ensued might have grown a little awkward had it not been broken by the sound of footsteps marching down the hall. A moment later, the Commander reappeared.

“Oh, here you are, sweets.” The woman rose up in a swirl of rose-patterned silk and went to meet him, chucking Tommy under the chin as she passed by. She was tall, perhaps five feet nine or ten, most of which seemed apportioned to her legs, which were enviable. “Your Nanny’s come back and our little boy’s quite safe, aren’t you, Thomas?”

The Commander smiled tightly. “It never occurred to me he wasn’t, Louise. I take it you’ve introduced yourself to Miss Bennett?”

“Not formally.” Louise slipped her arm through his and fluttered her long lashes. “But we’ve chatted and I think she’ll be wonderful for the job, Pierce. You can see already how taken she is with Thomas and he with her.”

“I agree.” Detaching himself from the thin fingers clutching at him, he gestured to Tommy. “Will you take him to the playroom for a few minutes, while I conclude matters with Miss Bennett?”

The ghost of a grimace soured Louise’s smile. “If you promise not to take too long. I’m presenting an offer on the Willingdon property at four and have another showing at five.”

“Ten minutes,” he said, and waited until she’d taken Tommy away before turning to Nicole. “Well, Miss Bennett, are you still interested in becoming a nanny?”

“Absolutely, Commander Warner. Tommy is delightful.”

He nodded and strode behind the desk. “Good. Then the job’s yours if the terms I’ve laid out here are agreeable to you.”

He handed her a contract which, for appearances’ sake, she pretended to scrutinize. In fact, she’d have worked for nothing if that’s what he’d asked, but the salary he was proposing to pay her was generous in the extreme.

“This is more than satisfactory, Commander,” she said, deciding that most of what she earned would go into a trust fund for Tommy.

“Then we have a deal.” He scrawled his name at the bottom of the page, then offered the pen to her. When she’d signed, he reached out to shake her hand again, another brief, businesslike clasp such as he’d offered when she’d first met him. “I’ll expect you tomorrow morning. Will ten o’clock suit you?”

“Actually,” she said, trying not to sound overeager, “I can start tonight, if you like. Your friend mentioned that you were dining out and I’d be happy to baby-sit.”

He looked pleasantly surprised. “Thank you. I’m sure Janet will appreciate having the evening off.”

“Then I’ll go and collect my things.” Nicole flicked a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I have a few odds and ends to take care of, but I can be back here by six.”

“Thank you again. I’ll warn Janet to expect you for dinner and leave her to show you to your suite of rooms.”

“Fine.” She picked up her bag from where she’d left it on the floor next to the desk. “I’ll see you later, Commander.”

She walked demurely along the hall and out through the front door. Climbed into her car, drove sedately down the driveway, and waited until the house was hidden behind a belt of trees before giving vent to the pent-up sigh of relief that was stretching her lungs to bursting.

She was home free! Provided she could keep her grief under wraps, the rest would be easy. Once she’d allayed any fears her employer might have regarding her motives, she could erase the lies and half-truths by which she’d gained access to Tommy and present herself for who she really was: his dead mother’s long-lost sister.

In the meantime, she had shopping to do. She’d come with party clothes, the sort of things a woman packed when she thought she was embarking on a holiday reunion. Sandals, sundresses, cocktail gowns. Beaded bags and diamond studs, spindle heels and sheer silk lingerie. And Pierce Warner’s lady friend was right: such a wardrobe no more fit the role of nanny than that of coffee shop waitress.

She needed clothes to fit the part. Denim skirts and trim white blouses. Cotton shorts and tops. Flat-heeled sandals and a plain bathrobe to replace the French silk peignoir lurking in the bottom of her suitcase.

The only things she didn’t need to acquire were a bottomless well of sympathy, an endless supply of tears, of love, of gut-wrenching pity. Those she already had in abundance. She could only hope they’d be enough.

“Pierce, that’s the fourth time you’ve looked at your watch in the last fifteen minutes and I’m beginning to feel neglected.”

“Sorry.” He drummed up a smile and touched his glass to Louise’s in a toast. “I didn’t realize I was being so obvious.”

“Sweetness, the woman is clearly as trustworthy as Mother Teresa. She was practically drooling all over Thomas when they came back from the beach and he seemed just as enthralled with her. It’s obviously a match made in heaven.”

“I agree. It’s the reason behind her being hired that I’m having a tough time coming to grips with. It just hasn’t sunk in yet that Jim and Arlene won’t be coming back.”

“I know. I can’t believe it, either.”

He shook his head, impatient with himself. “Death doesn’t get any easier to accept. I’m still haunted by that kid I lost on my last deployment. Now losing Jim, too—” He bowed his head, his chest aching. “I feel so bloody helpless.”

Louise shifted closer on the banquette until her knee was rubbing against his and her breast nudged his arm. “Pierce, stop it! That seaman’s death was no more your fault than your cousin’s accident was. Sadly, these things happen sometimes but the best thing we can do is go on with our lives. And, sweetie, you’ve become very much a part of mine. You do know that, don’t you?”

She increased the pressure on his arm, reminding him that she had very nice breasts indeed, and looked at him from eyes grown heavy-lidded with promise. He felt his own flesh tightening in response and suddenly wished they were alone instead of in a restaurant, and that he could lose himself inside her. Perhaps then he would forget, if only for a few minutes, the picture of Jim and Arlene as they’d looked when he’d gone to identify the bodies.

“How hungry are you, Louise?”

They’d become lovers about a month ago and she knew exactly what prompted the question. “Starving,” she purred, rolling her martini olive into her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “But not for chateaubriand. Let’s go, Pierce.”

She lived about half a mile from him, in a house she’d spent a small fortune renovating. Everything about it, from its marble-floored entry to the gold faucets in her bathroom to the dozen or so water candles arranged around her bed, reflected her sybaritic tastes. “There are glasses and champagne chilling,” she cooed, nodding at the bar refrigerator concealed in the lacquered wall unit at one end of her bedroom. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He opened the champagne, stood it in a bucket of ice, then lit six of the candles. Strolling to the window, he loosened his tie and checked his watch one more time. Almost twenty-one hundred hours. Was Tom settled for the night? Should he phone to make sure everything was going smoothly with the new nanny?

She was a pretty little thing and seemed capable enough. Not that the two were related, but it seemed to him that it would be easier for a kid of four to take to someone who looked a bit like his mother than it would to someone old enough to be his grandmother.

Not that the dark-haired, dark-eyed Miss Bennett bore much resemblance to Arlene, who’d been blond. But they were about the same age and of similar height and build. Though perhaps the nanny weighed a couple of pounds less—about a hundred and ten, he figured, and they hung remarkably well on her five foot, five inch frame.

“Why, Pierce, here I am all ready to be seduced and you haven’t even gotten around to removing your shoes!”

Louise swanned back into the room, half dressed in one of those floating negligee things that revealed more than it covered and which he’d previously seen only on posters pinned up in lockers aboard ship. All he had to do was tug lightly on the piece of ribbon holding it closed and the whole contraption would slide down around her feet. The thought, coupled with the amount of exquisite ivory flesh already on display, should have left him straining for release.

It didn’t.

“I’ll pour the champagne,” he said, and knew, from the way she flounced over to the bed and spread herself out against the pillows, that she was disappointed by his delaying tactics.

“Aren’t you going to join me, darling?” she pouted, accepting her glass of champagne. “It’s lonely in this big old bed without you.”

Before he could stop himself, he glanced again at his watch.

“It’s only five past nine, Pierce,” she protested, sighing audibly. “No one’s going to report you AWOL if you stay out another hour or two.”

She was ticked off and he couldn’t blame her. “Sorry,” he said yet again, dropping down beside her on the bed and stuffing a pillow behind his head. She was the only woman he’d ever met who actually used satin sheets. He found them very slippery.

“You’re forgiven.” She smiled, a lazy, sexy smile, and leaned over to unbutton his shirt. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

Her hands were cool and very skillful. Were the nanny’s? Would she handle Tom gently when she lifted him out of his bath?

He shook his head irritably. Of course she would! She was a nurse, for Pete’s sake!

“Come back, sweetness,” Louise whispered, raking her long fingernails over his chest with just enough pressure to indicate she didn’t care for his preoccupation.

“Hey,” he said, trapping her hand, as a thought occurred to him, “is the phone turned on in here? I mean, if anyone wanted to get hold of me, would they be able to get through?”

“Pierce,” she said, on another long-suffering sigh, “I’m in real estate. Have you ever known my phone not to be turned on?”

“No,” he admitted wryly. They’d been in the middle of making love for the first time when she’d received a call from a client wishing to view a house she’d just listed. Apart from being a touch out of breath throughout the conversation, she’d managed to set up the appointment without missing a beat. He hadn’t known whether to be flattered or insulted.

“Then why.” she said now, “don’t you just relax and make us both enjoy ourselves?”

She had the most delicious legs this side of a chorus line. A man would have to be dead not to respond to the lure of them. “Right,” he said, taking her glass and placing it beside his own on the night table. “We’ve wasted enough time on small talk.”

“Thank God you finally got the message,” she breathed, leaning forward to touch his nipple with her tongue. “Take your pants off, Pierce, darling. Although I love a man in uniform, a charcoal lounge suit doesn’t do a whole lot for me at a time like this.”

Her hands slid to the buckle of his belt, adding urgency to her request. It should have been enough to trigger the response she was seeking. Tonight, it wasn’t—a fact she’d discover for herself soon enough.

Cupping her face, he kissed her with great determination. Her lips were lush as ripe strawberries. Her skin smelled of Paris, very chic, very French—as it should, considering the imported hand-milled soap she used and the perfume specially brought in for her by Marshall Fields in Chicago. Her hair, a rich red-gold, glowed like a flame. Unfortunately, none of the aforementioned set him on fire.

Finally, he pulled away, took her hands in his and held her at a distance. “We’re trying too hard, Louise.”

“Why, Pierce,” she murmured, pouting again. “Have I lost my touch?”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, his glance sliding yet again to his watch. “I’ve got too many things on my mind right now.”

“And I’m obviously not one of them.” She drained her glass, clearly annoyed.

He could hardly blame her. They were in her bed at his suggestion, after all. “Let me just call home,” he began. “Once I know—”

“Oh, forget it!” She flounced off the bed and splashed more wine into her glass. “Frankly, you’re not the only one no longer in the mood. Good night, Pierce. Call me when you get your act together.”

There was a light showing at the nanny’s bedroom window when he got home. Treading softly so as not to disturb Tom, who’d been sleeping very restlessly all week, Pierce stopped outside her door, surprised to see it standing ajar. He’d assumed she was in bed already but she sat instead in the little sitting room that faced the back of the house and looked out to sea.

She wore a long blue dressing gown and had white furry slippers on her feet. Her dark brown hair hung around her shoulders in soft waves, and her face was scrubbed clean of what little makeup she’d worn earlier. She was reading a letter and several others lay in her lap. She held a steaming cup in one hand.

Suddenly, she glanced up and did a double take when she found herself being watched. He saw then that she’d been crying.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pushing the door open a little farther. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just got home and wondered how you’d managed with Tom. You seem upset. Did he give you a hard time?”

“No,” she said, making an effort to compose herself. “It’s not that at all. He was as good as gold.”

He shrugged helplessly. He never quite knew what to do with weeping women; they weren’t too common on board a naval destroyer. “Well, if it’s not Tom, then what? Are you having second thoughts about the job?”

“No.” Setting her cup on the table in front of her, she fished a wad of tissues from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. She was silent for so long that he thought the conversation had come to an end when she seemed to reach a decision of some sort and spoke again. “I think, Commander Warner, that there’s something you ought to know.”

“I’m listening,” he said, bracing himself. She had a look about her that spelled trouble.

She plucked a fresh tissue from the box at her elbow and blew her nose. “I haven’t been exactly truthful, I’m afraid.”

It wasn’t exactly the sort of news he appreciated hearing! Pretty direct himself, he hadn’t much use for people who weren’t equally up-front in their dealings. “In what respect, Miss Bennett?”

“Well...” She stopped and chanced a quick glance at him.

He held her gaze relentlessly. “Please continue.”

Her chin wobbled dangerously. “Recently, I... suffered...um...um....”

What? he was tempted to bark at her. A spell in prison for child abuse? A nervous breakdown? A malpractice suit for dereliction of duty?

“Something happened,” she said, and dropped her gaze to the letters in her lap.

Of course! She’d received a Dear John—or was it a Dear Jane for a woman? Either way, he thought he’d figured out what had brought on the tears. He’d seen it happen before enough times to recognize the symptoms. Otherwise fearless men brought to their knees by a one-page letter telling them they were history in some woman’s life.