From the minute the new nanny had set foot in the house, she’d brought Pierce nothing but complications Letter to Reader Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN Copyright

From the minute the new nanny had set foot in the house, she’d brought Pierce nothing but complications

He didn’t understand Nicole; he didn’t know how to deal with her. She turned his orderly life upside down and usurped his authority.... Yet despite all that, the fact remained: he enjoyed every minute of the aggravation she brought to his life.

He found himself watching her as she interacted with Tom. He was blown away by her patience and tenderness with the little boy. And he’d even gone so far as to wonder how she’d be with a child of her own, a baby. His baby....

Dear Reader,

A perfect nanny can be tough to find, but once you’ve found her you’ll love and treasure her forever. She’s someone who’ll not only look after the kids but could also be that loving mom they never knew. Or sometimes she’s a he and is the daddy they aspire to.

Here at Harlequin Presents we’ve put together a compelling new series, NANNY WANTED!, in which some of our most popular authors create nannies whose talents extend way beyond taking care of the children! Each story will excite and delight you and make you wonder how any family could be complete without a nineties nanny.

Remember—nanny knows best when it comes to falling in love!

The Editors

Look out next month for:

The Millionaire’s Baby by Diana Hamilton (#1956)

A Nanny In The Family

Catherine Spencer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

IT SHOULD have been raining, with the drops falling from the trees softly, steadily, like the tears she’d shed all night long. The sky should have been draped in mourning gray and the ocean swathed in funereal mist. Instead, the day was indecently gorgeous, with the sun beating down and the gardens flaming with geraniums and early roses.

Even the house seemed to smile, with its mellow rosy pink walls and sparkling paned windows. Four elegant chimneys posed against the clear sky, the white painted woodwork gleamed, the brass door knocker shone brilliantly. Or was it the threat of yet more tears blinding her so thoroughly that she had to blink repeatedly before she dared step out of the car?

Suddenly, the front door swung open and a middle-aged woman appeared. She paused on the top step and spoke to someone standing out of sight within the house. Shook her head commiseratingly and reached one hand forward as though to pat the unseen person’s arm.

She looked, Nicole thought, exactly the way a nanny should look: pleasingly plump, competent and cheerful in her print dress and sensible white shoes. The last thing Tommy needed at this point in his life was a woman drearily mired in her own misery.

Blinking again, Nicole swung her gaze away and stared at a bed of deep blue hydrangeas flanked by spiny white Shasta daisies the size of baseballs. Be here at two, the voice on the phone had said, and it had been exactly five minutes to the hour when she’d turned off the quiet road and driven through the wrought iron gates described by the woman she’d met yesterday, at Arlene’s house. She had a minute, two at the most, in which to prepare herself for the most consummate performance of her life. Yet how did a person push aside a grief so new, even for a moment? Worse, how to keep it permanently in the background, hidden under a facade of serene capability?

The other applicant came down the steps, large white handbag slung over her sturdy wrist. She nodded pleasantly as she passed Nicole’s car and continued down the drive, planting one foot solidly in front of the other.

She would be kind and firm. Under her care, Tommy would learn to like green beans and spinach, and go to bed on time. When he cried for his mommy and daddy, he would be taken up on that ample lap and comforted. But it wouldn’t be enough. Only she, Nicole, could truly understand his loss, and only she could compensate for it.

The front door to the house stood open still and another woman, older and more slender than the first, beckoned to her from the top step. Nicole nodded and glanced quickly in her rearview mirror, thankful to see the eyedrops she’d used had reduced the redness brought on by a night of weeping. She could not afford to look distraught. She dare not break down.

“You must be the young lady who phoned just this morning. Miss Bennett, right?” The woman at the door spoke with a trace of a British accent and wore a starched white apron over her plain gray dress. “It’s good that you’re on time. The Commander expects punctuality.”

The Commander expects. The words filled Nicole with dread, evoking an image of aging but erect military bearing born of regimented discipline. And Tommy was only four. Oh, the poor baby!

“Have there been many other applicants for the job?” she asked, quickly before she burst into tears again.

“Only three, I’m afraid.” The woman shook her head. “You’re our last hope unless someone else turns up unexpectedly. Commander Warner’s at his wit’s end, what with losing his cousin so tragically and then, with poor Doctor Jim and his wife barely cold in their graves, finding himself standing in as Daddy for their boy.”

She pulled a tissue from her apron pocket and wiped at the tears filming her eyes.

Don’t cry, Nicole silently begged, or you’ll start me off again and I’m afraid I’ll never stop. “I take it,” she said, “that Commander Warner has no children of his own?”

“Gracious, no,” the woman exclaimed, recovering herself. “He’s not even married—though not from want of trying on some people’s part! The most he’s been used to is playing long-distance uncle to young Tommy. Not that he’s the boy’s uncle exactly—second cousin, more like—but what does it matter? The important thing is, they’ve got each other and thank God for it, or I don’t know how either of them would get through this dreadful time. Come along this way, dear. The Commander’s interviewing in the library.”

A long hall with a dark polished wood floor covered by a carpet runner stretched from the front door to the rear of the house. Following behind the woman, Nicole passed a wide archway leading into a formal living room flooded with sunlight.

Directly opposite, a similar archway showed a dining room with a Duncan Phyfe table and eight high-backed chairs set precisely in the middle of a pale Aubusson rug. Was that where Tommy took his meals now, and did the Commander realize that four-year-olds occasionally spilled food on the floor?

“Miss Bennett’s here, Commander.”

“Thank you, Janet. Show her in.” His voice was deep and smoothly rich, a crooner’s voice almost, ludicrously at odds with the authoritarian impression Nicole had built of him.

The woman smiled encouragingly at Nicole, then turned away down another, narrower hall that led under the curving staircase to what was probably the kitchen wing.

Don’t leave me, Nicole wanted to call after her. I can’t handle this alone!

“Are you there, Miss Bennett?” The voice from the library rang with an edge of impatience this time, suggesting there was steel under all that velvet.

“Yes,” she said, still from beyond the threshold of the room.

“Then be so good as to present yourself in the flesh.”

There was no mistaking the steel now. Any more shilly-shallying on her part and the interview would be concluded before it had begun. Bracing herself, she walked into the library with what she prayed would strike exactly the proper blend of ability and deference such an old curmudgeon would undoubtedly expect of an underling.

The man rising from behind a handsome Georgian desk to shake her hand, however, looked anything but the part she’d assigned to him. Mid-thirtyish, tall and broad-shouldered, with devastatingly blue eyes and a granite jaw, he epitomized vintage Hollywood at its most alluring.

At any other time, Nicole might have dwelled on the romantic potential of such a fine specimen. As things stood now, however, he was merely the means to an end and could have two heads, for all she cared.

“How do you do? I’m Pierce Warner.” His handclasp was brief and firm. “Please be seated, Miss Bennett.”

“Thank you,” she replied, appalled to hear her words hanging in the air, breathy as a teenager’s.

The last time she’d been this nervous was when she’d appeared for her final interview at The Clinic. The ink on her nursing degree had been barely dry at the time and if she’d been asked how many limbs the human body normally came equipped with, she’d probably have given the wrong answer. But that was six years ago and she’d have thought herself past the sort of uncertainty that gripped her now.

She’d nursed terminally ill children, she’d comforted bereaved parents, and even though she’d many times thought her own heart would break for them all, she’d somehow managed to control her emotions. So why was she falling apart now, at this most crucial time?

“Tell me about yourself, Miss Bennett,” the Commander commanded, fixing her in the sort of close scrutiny that missed nothing.

“Well,” she began, discreetly wiping damp palms on her skirt, “I’m new to the area.”

Dark eyebrows raised disparagingly, he said, “That strikes you as relevant, does it?”

“Yes—um, no!” She stopped and blew out a small breath. “What I mean is, I expect you’d like to speak to my previous employers, but I recently moved to the west coast, so I’m afraid I can’t offer you any local names. But I do have good references.”

She reached into the straw bag on her lap, withdrew the manila envelope containing her credentials, and offered it to him.

He set it aside and folded his hands on the desk. His fingernails, she noted, were short and scrupulously clean. “At this point,” he said, subjecting her to another all-encompassing stare, “I’m more interested in hearing why you think you’re the best person to fill the position of nanny to my ward.”

She expelled another long breath, hoping that the next time she opened her mouth, she’d make a better impression. Once again, though, she said exactly the wrong thing. “Well, I’d better explain right off that I’ve never been a nanny before.”

His gaze narrowed as if he’d just sighted an enemy vessel heaving over the horizon. “Now that strikes me as decidedly relevant. Would you care to explain why you’re bothering to waste both my time and yours?”

“Because,” she said, plunging in and praying she’d remember the lines she’d rehearsed all through last night, “I am very experienced in dealing with children, particularly those under stress. And I’m aware that your... ward—” The cold Victorian description stuck in her throat, nearly choking her. This was Tommy they were talking about. Her nephew. A warm, living child desperately in need of the love and comfort she was so willing to give to him.

“Go on, Miss Bennett.”

Could he see the way she was twisting her hands together in her lap? Did he guess that her skin was clammy with cold, even though the temperature outside hovered near eighty? “I’m aware,” she said, closing her mind to everything but the need to convince him that she was exactly the person he was looking for, “that your family has recently faced a terrible tragedy as a result of which your ward lost both his parents. Allow me to offer you my deepest sympathy.”

He inclined his head in a gesture of acknowledgment, a cool, almost detached response, one might have thought, had not the sudden twitch of muscle in his jaw betrayed emotions being kept rigidly in check.

“I have taken an extended leave of absence from my previous job and come to Oregon to be near my relatives,” she went on, veering as close to the truth as she dared. “However, I do need to support myself, and I thought, when I heard you were looking for a full-time nanny, that it was a position I could very well fill.”

She leaned forward, her confidence spurred by the recitation of facts which were not cloaked in lies. “I’m a pediatric nurse, Commander Warner. For the past three years I’ve worked exclusively in the intensive care unit of my hospital. ICU nurses receive a great deal of exposure to death. They learn to deal with it compassionately. If they don’t, they don’t last long. I can help your ward through this difficult time and I’m available to start looking after him immediately.”

For the first time, the Commander looked marginally impressed. “How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-nine.”

He flexed his fingers and rapped a soft tattoo on the desk surface. “Tommy’s mother just turned twenty-eight,” he said, staring bleakly out of the window beside him.

I know, Nicole could have told him. She was eighteen months younger than I. Her birthday was in February. Instead, she said, “I think having him cared for by someone close to his mother’s age might help.”

“I agree.” He pulled the manila envelope closer and set it on the blotter in front of him. “You realize this is a live-in position? That you won’t have much spare time to spend with your relatives? I’d need you here at least five days a week.”

Relief almost made her careless. It was all she could do not to tell him that she’d prefer to work around the clock, seven days a week. “Of course.”

“Your sleep might be disturbed at times. Tom has cried every night for his mother.”

Oh, darling! she thought, her arms aching to hold the child almost as badly as her heart broke for him. She swallowed and said briskly, “I’m a nurse. Shift work is second nature to me.”

He whistled tunelessly under his breath a moment, then slewed another glance her way. “The response to my ad has been disappointing. The woman I saw this morning wasn’t much more than a child herself and totally unsuitable. The one who was here before you has spent the last eleven years with the same family and would have been ideal for the job, but she isn’t free to start working for me until the end of the month.”

Nicole held her breath, sensing victory within her grasp. As if to clinch the matter, from somewhere within the house a child’s cry broke the silence.

“I don’t think I can wait that long,” the Commander decided, and touched the tip of the envelope with his forefinger. “These references...I suppose I should read them. Or are they just the usual claptrap?”

“That’s something only you can decide.”

“Right.” He shrugged. “Would you like some coffee or a cold drink, Miss Bennett?”

“A glass of water would be nice.”

His slow smile creased his cheeks with unexpected dimples. “I think we can do better than that,” he said, indicating the open French doors on the other side of the room. “I’ll have Janet bring something to you on the patio.”

The view outside stole Nicole’s breath away. Perched on a bluff, the house flowed down to the beach in a series of terraces connected by brick-paved paths. A curved flight of steps similar to those at the front door gave way to a swimming pool set in a natural rock depression. To either side, flower beds edged an expanse of closely trimmed lawn. Below, the great spread of the ocean reflected the cloudless blue sky.

From a walkway covered by a vine-draped pergola, Janet appeared, a loaded tray in her hands. “Lovely sight, isn’t it?” she remarked, setting the tray on an umbrella-shaded table and coming to stand beside Nicole. “A body can just feel the peace soaking into her bones.”

Nicole couldn’t. Her entire body was suffused with pain. God might seem to be in His heaven but, appearances to the contrary, things were far from right in her world. The beauty and tranquillity were an affront.

Janet turned away to pour liquid from a frosty pitcher into a tall, stemmed glass. “How did the interview go?”

“I’m not sure. I hope I get the job.”

“Well, dear, I can tell you the Commander won’t bother keeping anyone around who doesn’t measure up. If he thought he was wasting his time with you, you’d be out the door by now. Try this lemonade. It’s the real thing, made from scratch.”

“Thank you.”

“And here’s a plate of biscuits—cookies, you call them—if you’d like something to eat while you wait.”

Breakfast was a distant memory and dinner last night nonexistent, but the thought of food nauseated Nicole. Still, out of politeness, she nibbled at one of the cookies and said, “What I’d really like is to meet the little boy. Could you bring him out to see me, do you think?”

She’d said the wrong thing again. Janet backed off as if she’d been indecently propositioned.

“Oh, it’s not up to me to allow that, dear!” she exclaimed, her accent broadened by shock. “That’s something for the Commander to allow if he decides you’re best for the job.”

But he’s my nephew and I need to see him, Nicole thought. I need to hold him, to smell the little boy scent of his hair, to kiss the soft sweet skin of his neck. I need to know that he doesn’t feel alone and abandoned.

Janet straightened the bib of her apron and sighed. “I just hope he makes up his mind quickly. I don’t mind telling you, I’ve got my hands full trying to run the house and keep tabs on Tommy at the same time. He’s a good little boy, but at that age, you know, a child is only ever still when he’s asleep.”

“Where is he now?”

“Taking a nap. He does that most afternoons for about half an hour.” Janet touched Nicole’s arm sympathetically. “I’m sure the Commander will bring him down and introduce you, if he likes what he’s being told about you.”

“Being told?”

Janet leaned forward confidingly. “He was on the phone long distance when I took in his lemonade, and I just happened to overhear your name being mentioned.”

Exhaustion and stress must be catching up with her, Nicole decided, stifling an untoward giggle at the thought of The Commander sipping lemonade. Wouldn’t a tot of rum be more his style? “Why do you call him the Commander?”

“That’s his rank. He’s a Navy man, didn’t you know? Works designing warships now, of course, on account of his bad back and all, but it was a dreadful disappointment to him that he couldn’t remain on active service. He knew he wanted to go to sea from the time he was Tommy’s age. Learned to sail a dinghy before he turned eight and spent every spare minute hanging around the yacht basin. Knew the name and make of every boat there, built models of most of them, too. Then, as soon as he was old enough, he was off to the Naval Academy and after that, it was glory all the way. Quite the local hero, you might say.”

She leaned close again, as though what she was about to impart was a well guarded secret revealed only to a chosen few. “You should see all his medals. He was in the Gulf War, you know—that’s when he was injured, rescuing one of his men in an explosion on the bridge—and decorated for bravery, or however they call it.”

“Why don’t you tell her my shoe size while you’re at it, Janet?” the object of all this admiration remarked, strolling out through the French doors and smiling at the housekeeper. His eyes, Nicole thought, were even bluer than the sky and his smile dazzling.

“Oh, Commander!” Janet exclaimed, blushing like a girl. “I didn’t hear you come out.”

“So I gather.” Sobering, he switched his gaze to Nicole. “Bring your lemonade inside and let’s talk some more, Miss Bennett.”

Did he ever say “please” or “thank you,” or was he so used to dishing out orders that it never occurred to him to remember his manners?

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d worked at The Mayo Clinic?” he began, as soon as they were seated across the desk from each other again.

She couldn’t help herself. The question was out before she could stop it. “That strikes you as relevant, does it?”

He didn’t exactly smile at her impudence, but his eyes glimmered with amusement. “If you were in the Navy, Miss Bennett, I’d reprimand you for rank insubordination. As it is, I have to wonder what it is about this job that appeals to you. You must know you’re seriously overqualified for the position I’m trying to fill.”

“On paper, perhaps,” she said, “but I need a change.”

“How so?”

Once again grief threatened to rise up and engulf her. To buy herself enough time to regain control, she paced to the French doors and stood with her back to him so that he couldn’t see the sudden shine of tears in her eyes. “Any nurse working in a critical care unit will tell you that professional burnout is common,” she said, fighting to subdue the quiver in her voice. “You might think we become inured to death, but we don’t. And when those touched by it are children, the stress factor is particularly severe.”

She paused, hating the fact that she was about to add another lie to those she’d already told him. Deceit did not come easily and she wished she dared tell him the whole truth. But it was too soon. The risks were too great. “I felt it was time for me to take a break.”

“I appreciate that, Miss Bennett, and I sympathize. But my first priority is my ward’s welfare and I wonder how ably you will meet his needs feeling as you do. He needs a great deal of emotional support right now. How well do you think you can supply that, considering your own admittedly fragile state?”

“Just because I feel the need for a change doesn’t alter the fact that I love children,” she said, thankful to be on completely honest ground again. “And you may depend on me always to put your ward’s interests ahead of my own.”

“I shall hold you to that.”

She dared to look at him again then, hope surging within her breast. “Are you telling me I have the job?”

“Not quite. Before we make that decision, I think you must meet Tom.”

Yes! “That would be sensible,” she said soberly. “No point in reaching any decisions until we see how we get along.”

As if there was any doubt that she wouldn’t adore him on sight!

“I’ll get him,” the Commander said, stuffing her résumé and references back into the envelope and handing it to her. “He might be a bit shy with you—he’s seen a lot of strangers in the last week and is obviously confused—but I’m sure you’ll allow for that.”

“Of course.”

He was gone for several minutes. Aware of the slender hold she had on her emotions, and knowing that the Commander would pick up on any false move, Nicole spent the interval schooling herself to composure. She had just this one last hurdle to clear. No matter what it cost her, she must present a calm and reassuring front if she wanted to convince him beyond any doubt that she was the best possible nanny for Tommy.

She thought she had succeeded. She thought that all the years of working in ICU would stand her in good stead. This, after all, was a healthy little child, not some poor, sickly soul with no future. But when the door opened and she saw the boy in the Commander’s arms, she forgot everything: her training, her rehearsing, her lies. Everything.

“This is Tom, Miss Bennett.”

Instead of saying something rational like, “Hello, Tommy, it’s nice to meet you,” Nicole pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop its trembling and whispered, “Oh! Oh, I knew he would be beautiful, but I had no idea he’d be so completely perfect!”

“Wait until he’s woken you up at five in the morning three days in a row, before you decide that,” the Commander said dryly, swinging Tommy to the floor.

The child staggered a little against his uncle’s knee and regarded Nicole from big solemn eyes. His face was flushed with sleep and his hair damp on one side from perspiration. A worn baby quilt trailed from one dimpled hand.

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.

“So that’s why you left Minnesota,” he said.

She looked up him, her dark brown eyes wide and startled. “What?”

“You wanted to make a fresh start.”

“Yes,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “But I’d already decided to do that before...”

The waterworks were about to start again. “Before he broke your heart,” he finished for her, deciding a quick, clean cut was kinder than letting her linger in misery.

She continued to stare at him as if she thought he was slightly mad. “No. Someone in my family died.”

“Oh,” he said, and then, insensitive clod that he was, added, “I assumed some guy had dumped you.”

She gave a watery laugh at that. “No, nothing quite that simple, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Bennett, I didn’t mean to make light of your loss.”

A fresh load of tears sparkled in her eyes. “My emotions are very close to the surface right now.”

“I fully appreciate that.” Uninvited, he advanced into the room and perched on the windowsill. “What can I do to make things easier for you?”

She shook her head, which was enough to send the tears flying down her cheeks. “Nothing.”

Should he lend a shoulder for her to cry on? Pat her back? Stroke her pretty hair and murmur words of comfort?

The thought stirred him more thoroughly than his earlier bedroom encounter with Louise. Hurriedly, he handed over a fresh tissue and wished he’d waited until the morning to have this conversation. “What’s that you’re drinking?”

“Herbal tea,” she said. “I thought it might help me sleep. I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home in the kitchen.”

“Not in the least, but how about a shot of brandy instead?”

“No, thank you. I don’t drink much.”

“That’s good,” he said. A closet tippler was the last thing he—or Tom—needed! “It might not be a bad idea to make an exception just this once, though. In fact, I could use a drink myself.”

Before she could raise further objections, he stuffed another tissue in her hand and made his escape. On his way downstairs, he poked his head into Tom’s room. He was fast asleep. From behind her door, Janet’s rhythmic snoring told him all was well on that front, also.

By the time he returned to the nanny’s room, she’d got the tears under control. Even though her eyes had a bruised look about them, she managed to drum up a smile.

“Here,” he said, offering her the snifter. “Down the hatch with this and you’ll sleep like a baby, I promise.”

She took a sip and grimaced. “I do apologize, Commander Warner. I’m not usually such an emotional mess.”

“Why didn’t you say something this afternoon? Did you think I’d reject your application, because you’ve suffered a family bereavement?”

She hesitated before replying and he thought an expression of near-guilt crossed her face, but it was such a fleeting thing that he couldn’t be sure. “Private details don’t belong in interviews,” she said finally.

“They do sometimes, especially if they affect a person’s ability to cope with her duties.”

“Oh, I won’t allow that to happen!” she exclaimed, a flush of alarm tinting her pale face. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize Tommy’s well-being.”

She looked so earnest, and so damned soft and appealing that he was startled to find himself again inclined to draw her into his arms and comfort her. To preclude any such action, he downed the rest of his brandy, stood up to leave, and said, “I believe you, Miss Bennett.”

“Do you? Really?”

“Every word.”

Why didn’t she look reassured at that? What caused her to gnaw uneasily on her lip, as though he’d handed her a gift she didn’t deserve?

“Look,” he said, “I understand only too well the void left behind when someone dies but the only way to get past it is to go forward, because standing still and looking back at what we’ve lost is just too painful.”

She got up from the chair and pressed her hands together. He noticed they were every bit as fine and soft as he’d expected them to be. “You’re right. Thank you, Commander. I swear you won’t regret entrusting Tommy to my care.”

“I don’t expect to. Good night, Miss Bennett.”

He’d turned away and was almost at the door when she stopped him with one last request. “Won’t you please call me Nicole?”

Strange, the effect the request had on him. There was something forlorn in her voice that told him more clearly than anything she’d actually put into words that she was hurting badly and fighting with every ounce of grit she could muster to cope with the pain.

“Nicole,” he echoed, hearing the cadence of her name on his tongue and liking how it sounded.

Embarrassed to find himself staring into her eyes as if he’d been hypnotized, he cleared his throat and said brusquely, “Well, if we’re dropping the formalities and I suppose, since you’re more or less part of the family now, we might as well, I’m Pierce.”

“Yes.” She smiled a little. “The name suits you.”

Instinct told him not to ask, but curiosity got the better of him. “How so?”

“Everything about you is very direct. A woman knows where she stands with you and I admire that in a man.”

There were a few things he admired about her, too. Her hair, for instance, and the classic oval of her face. And her long, dark lashes. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d washed or wept away her makeup, he might have thought they were false or coated with eye shadow, or whatever it was women put on them for effect. In any event, they added drama to her already lovely eyes.

But it was more than just her face that he found appealing, he admitted, allowing his gaze to roam over the rest of her. She had the sort of slight build that brought a man’s protective urges to the fore. Her waist was narrow as a child’s, her hips a mere suggestion beneath the blue dressing gown, and her breasts ... were none of his concern.

He cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, good night, Nicole.”

“Good night, Pierce.”

“Sleep well.”

“I’ll try.”

Shutting the door after him, Nicole leaned against it and let out a slow breath of relief. How could she have come so close to blowing her cover, knowing as she did what she had to lose by doing so? The thing was, he’d caught her in a moment of weakness and that, combined with his sympathy, had almost undone her.

She’d realized her mistake at once. There’d been no misinterpreting his wariness at the idea of her having lied. Quite how he’d have reacted if she’d finished what she’d started to say didn’t bear thinking about. She’d probably be packing her bags by now.

It was just as well that, after all, she’d chosen to ignore her mother’s warning when they’d spoken on the phone earlier.

“You’re not thinking straight,” Nancy Bennett had sighed, when Nicole unfolded her plan. “You went to Oregon expecting to reunite with a sister you’d lost touch with years ago, only to find you’d lost her all over again—permanently, this time—and the whole tragedy is taking its toll on you. Come clean now, honey, before the lies trip you up.”

At first, she’d been inclined to heed the advice but Tommy had changed her mind. Confronted by Pierce’s sympathy and with the truth practically trembling on her lips, she’d had a sudden memory flash of the evening she and the child had spent together and made a split-second choice: being with him was worth any amount of deception.

They’d bonded instantly, the way an aunt and nephew should. Everything about him enchanted her—his speech, his four-year-old mannerisms, his curiosity and trust. She loved how he prefaced almost every remark to her with her name.

“Nicole?” he’d said, as they sat at dinner.

“Yes, darling?”

“Are you going to live here tonight?”

“Yes, darling,” she’d said, mopping up the small puddle of milk he’d spilled. “And tomorrow night, as well.”

“Oh.” He’d regarded her from big eyes, and digested that bit of information with the last of his macaroni cheese. “Nicole?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Will you sleep with Uncle Pierce?”

She’d almost choked on her own food at that. “No, Tommy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have my own bed in my own room.”

“Mommy sleeps with Daddy.”

Oh, precious, I hope so! I hope wherever they are that they’re together and that they know I’ll keep you safe for them. She’d swallowed the familiar rush of tears and said simply, “I know. They keep each other company.”

“Nicole?”

“Yes, Tommy?”

“In the morning, we can go swimming.”

“That would be nice.”

“But only if you’re there. Uncle Pierce says it’s very, very dangerous to go in the pool by myself.”

“He’s right. Now, if you’re finished eating, how about we clear the table to save Janet having to do it?”

“All right.” He’d hopped down from his chair and carried his plate and glass to the counter next to the sink. After she’d rinsed them, he showed her how he could load them into the dishwasher. It had been all she could do not to smother him with hugs and kisses.

Janet, who’d been ironing at the other end of the kitchen, had observed the interaction but made no comment. “I’m here if you need me,” she’d said, when Nicole asked why she hadn’t joined them for dinner, “but it’s best if the two of you spend time alone together and get to know one another as quickly as possible. Poor motherless mite, he needs someone who can give him all her attention for a while, and I can’t, it’s as simple as that. I’m just glad you came along when you did.”

Nicole had warmed to the housekeeper for the trust implicit in her words. She’d bathed Tommy and read him a story, then sat with him until he’d fallen asleep. Those last few minutes had been precious in their intimacy.

“Nicole?” he’d said, clutching his dee-dee.

She stroked a finger up his cheek, “Yes, darling?”

“Is Mommy coming home tomorrow?”

What she wouldn’t have given to be able to say yes. And what she wouldn’t do to make sure he’d never have to wonder if she’d be there for him in the morning. “No, sweetheart, but I’ll be here.”

His eyes had clouded and she’d folded him in her arms, her heart aching with a pain that could be assuaged only by holding that little boy as close to her as possible, and hoping that, in easing his sorrow, perhaps she’d find a little relief for herself. “What would you like for breakfast when you wake up, Tommy?”

“Pancakes,” he’d murmured drowsily. “And brown syrup.”

“Then pancakes it’ll be.”

And it was. Every day for the rest of that week.

Pierce always had breakfast with them and was often there for dinner, too. “Is all that stuff good for him?” he asked, on the third morning. “Shouldn’t he be eating something more wholesome, like porridge, and forget about the syrup?”

“Not when the weather’s so hot, Pierce. Porridge is winter food. As for the syrup, I give him only a minimal amount. As long as he brushes his teeth, it won’t do him any harm.”

“Well, you’re the nurse,” he’d said doubtfully. “I suppose you know what you’re doing.”

But he didn’t really believe that and continued to keep tabs on her and question her about everything, from the number of times a day that she changed Tommy’s clothes to the amount of time it took him to polish off a meal.

“Twenty minutes should be enough for anyone to clean his plate,” he claimed irritably, on the Friday evening when Tommy was particularly slow to finish his main course. “My crew could get through four times that amount of food in half the time he takes.”

“Since he’s not in the Navy,” she replied tartly, “I hardly think it matters. In any case, mealtimes shouldn’t be reduced to races to see who can cross the finishing line first. They should be social occasions.”

Pierce had let the subject lie but the look he gave her across the table reminded her that she could push him only so far. In the final analysis, he was the boss and she made a mental note not to forget it. She wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he’d fired her.

The next eight weeks sped by, and if the ache of losing her sister didn’t exactly disappear, it was made easier for Nicole to bear by getting to know her nephew. Tommy was such an easy child to love. So willing to please, so sweet-tempered, so affectionate. And apart from that one near-disastrous confession her first night on the job, she fit into her role of nanny without a hitch. No one, she was sure, had any inkling that the affection she lavished on Tommy stemmed from anything other than pure dedication to the job she’d been hired to do.

So why, as one fear lessened, did another kind of uneasiness take its place? Why wasn’t the fact that she had unlimited access to her nephew, that she had a more or less free hand in how she went about her responsibilities, and that she lived in a gorgeous house in a breathtaking setting, enough to make her as happy as could be expected?

The answer wasn’t one she cared to dwell on, but there really wasn’t any escaping it. Pierce Warner was the problem. Not because he frequently seemed to forget that he wasn’t in the Navy any longer and didn’t realize that four-year-old boys weren’t miniature underlings with a built-in respect for strict adherence to rules and regulations. That Nicole could and did handle, but diplomatically—not just because she didn’t want to put her job at risk, but also because the last thing Tommy needed at that point in his life was two adults squabbling in front of him.

What she couldn’t swallow with any sort of equanimity were the twinges of envy that attacked without warning every time Louise Trent showed up and lay claim to Pierce with a determination that couldn’t have been made clearer if she’d stood on the roof and screamed to the whole world: “Hands off! This man is mine!”

Equally difficult to stomach was the fact that, while she plowed around the house suitably dressed-down as befit a nanny, Louise flaunted her assets shamelessly. She wore silk which never wrinkled, no matter how hot the day; delicate strappy sandals with heels as fine as wineglass stems. To showcase her sinfully beautiful legs, her hemlines never rode a fraction of an inch lower than mid-thigh, regardless of the weather.

And speaking of which, while Louise protected her porcelain complexion beneath wide-brimmed hats made of the finest panama, Nicole grew as brown as newly baked bread from chasing Tommy around the garden and along the beach. Truly, she felt every inch the peasant servant in contrast to Louise who clearly saw herself as lady of the manor.

Nicole tried to rationalize her feelings the best way she knew how. She told herself that they arose because Tommy deserved to have Pierce to himself more often, instead of having to make do with a quick visit sandwiched between the end of his uncle’s working day and Louise’s plans for the evening.

But that line of reasoning fell apart when she found herself lying awake waiting to hear the sound of the automatic garage door opener heralding Pierce’s late night return from his date, and wondering how serious he was about Louise, if they were sleeping together.

Once the questions entered her head, there was no escaping them and, to her shame, she found a way to get the answers. One morning in early July when Janet joined her on the patio for midmorning coffee, she said, with what she prayed would come across as nothing more than idle curiosity, “Are the Commander and Miss Trent planning to get married soon?”

“If she gets her way, they will,” Janet replied sourly. “That woman sank her chicken-pluckers into him, the minute she set eyes on him.”

“Oh,” Nicole said, her spirits plummeting absurdly. “They’ve known each other some time, then?”

“About six months. They met when he came home for good and started shopping for a place to live. She found this house for him and made herself generally indispensable in the process.”

Nicole smiled. It wasn’t the first time Janet had intimated her dislike of Pierce’s lady friend. “Where will you fit in, if she becomes Mrs. Warner?”

“I won’t,” Janet replied, without hesitation. “I’ll hand in notice before she gets the chance to fire me. I was housekeeper for the Commander’s parents from the time he turned fourteen, and I’d gladly work for him ’til I drop in my tracks, but that hussy...!”

She snorted disparagingly, then gave way to a gleeful smile. “Of course, things aren’t going as smoothly as she’d like anymore,” she remarked, nodding to where Tommy played in his sandbox. “Inheriting someone else’s child isn’t part of her plan, for all that she puts on such a fine act when the Commander’s around to see it. But I guess you’ve gathered that much for yourself, Nicole. You don’t strike me as someone who misses much when it comes to that boy.”

“No. In fact, that’s what prompted me to ask if the relationship’s serious,” Nicole said, and tried to believe the allegation was true. What sort of idiot allowed herself to moon after a man already in love with someone else, after all?

But the envy continued regardless. Became more like plain, green-eyed jealousy, in fact. And without knowing how it happened, she found being with Tommy wasn’t quite enough to fill all her needs. Sometimes, she ached for a man’s arms around her, for a man’s lips to be pressed to hers.

Specifically, she wanted Pierce’s strong, tanned arms around her, and his broad shoulder to lean on. She wanted his gaze to settle on her lips with the same hungry curiosity that hers glommed onto his. He had a very handsome mouth; strong, finely sculpted, sexy.

She was so ashamed of herself, so mortified. Her only consolation lay in the fact that he had no idea how she felt about him.

Unfortunately, Louise Trent did.

CHAPTER THREE

NICOLE had long believed women were more intuitive than men, and Louise proved herself no exception. Her built-in radar started picking up danger signals almost as soon as Nicole herself realized the direction in which things were headed, and her cordiality shrank proportionately.

At first, she tried to direct her attack through Pierce. “Grief, sweets,” she trilled, the Saturday she arrived unexpectedly and found him sharing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by the pool with Nicole and Tommy, “what a good thing I decided to stop by and let you take me out to lunch.”

“Why don’t you join us instead?” Pierce suggested, pulling up a chair for her. “We’ve got plenty of food and iced tea.”

Louise inspected the sandwiches as if she expected to find roach tracks in the peanut butter, and shuddered. “They’re serving fresh Dungeness crab salad and chardonnay at the yacht club, Pierce.”

“Sorry, Louise,” he said. “I promised Tommy I’d give him a swimming lesson this afternoon.”

She swept a glance over the scene, her eyes beneath the brim of her black straw hat coldly assessing. Nicole could imagine what sort of tableau the three of them made, lounging at leisure amid an assortment of towels, sunscreen lotion and inflatable water toys. To the uninitiated, they might have been the perfect, close-knit family, with Louise the interloper. And that clearly was not a picture the visitor relished.

“Why you, Pierce?” she inquired.

He shrugged his decidedly splendid shoulders. “Why not me?”

“Because,” she said peevishly, “I fail to see the point in hiring a dog if you have to bark yourself.”

It was a calculated insult made all the more offensive by her studied appraisal of Nicole, which Pierce didn’t miss. The family man image refocused to reveal his other persona, the naval officer unused to having his decisions questioned.

He put down the sandwich he was about to bite into, fixed her in a stare that only a fool would have perceived as anything other than highly dangerous, then brought his gaze to bear on Nicole. “Dog, Louise?”

The August afternoon crackled with unspoken hostility. Feeling suddenly and indecently exposed beneath the scrutiny, Nicole found herself reaching surreptitiously for her cotton cover-up, even though her one-piece swimsuit was modestly cut.

Tommy shattered the tension. “Where’s a dog?” he asked hopefully, looking around.

“It’s just a figure of speech, Thomas,” Louise said. “There isn’t really a dog here.”

But although she laughed merrily, the glint in her eyes was every bit as steely as that in Pierce’s, leaving Nicole in no doubt that the woman who’d started out as her ally no longer regarded her with favor.

The hint of a smile relaxed the stern line of Pierce’s mouth. “Well, perhaps there should be,” he said. “How would you feel, Nicole, about our taking on a puppy?”

“I think that would be wonderful,” she said, unable to quell her pleasure at the way he phrased the question, as if he, too, was beginning to think of her as part of the family. “I’m game for anything that helps Tommy get through the next few months.”

Louise looked as if she might explode, though whether that was because she objected to dogs in general or only those she perceived as invading her territory was a moot point. “Oh, Pierce!” she exclaimed. “Do you really think that’s wise? I mean, sweetie, think about it. Dog hair all over everything, and muddy paw prints.” She wrinkled her nose fastidiously. “Not to mention accidents on the carpets.”

Tommy’s ears perked up again, less enthusiastically this time. “Mommy and Daddy had an accident,” he said worriedly, leaning against Nicole’s knee. “They aren’t coming home ever again.”

“Oh, Tommy,” Nicole said, drawing him onto her lap, “that was a different kind of accident. If we got a puppy, nothing bad would happen to it. Uncle Pierce and I would make sure of that.”

“I’m talking about the sort of accident where an animal goes to the toilet in inappropriate places, Thomas,” Louise cut in, sending Nicole the sort of killing glare meant to stunt any other promises she might feel disposed to make.

But Tommy clung to Nicole, winding his arms so anxiously around her neck that she felt constrained to point out, “You’re confusing him, Miss Trent. He’s only just turned four and is having a tough enough time coping with the upheaval in his life. We need to be careful that we don’t inadvertently increase his apprehensions.”

“Thank you for your input, Miss Bennett,” came the sarcastic reply. “I can’t imagine how we’ve managed without it this long. Pierce, are you sure you won’t let me coax you into lunch at the club?”

“Not today, Louise,” he said, hoisting Tommy off Nicole’s lap and onto his shoulder. “A promise is a promise, and it’s time for that swimming lesson. But you go ahead.”

“I will,” she said, smiling fixedly. “I’ll just visit with Miss Bennett for a few minutes first, and watch the swimming lesson.” She blew him a kiss. “See you later, around six?”

“Sure.”

The second he was out of earshot, she launched her offensive. “So tell me,” she purred, “do you always take such a personal interest in your patients, Miss Bennett?”

“Yes,” Nicole said. “Although I don’t exactly see Tommy as a patient.”

“No? Then how do you see him?” Louise crossed her elegant legs and swung a negligent ankle.

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Oh, I think you do, my dear.” She rooted in her bag, withdrew a mirrored compact and proceeded to touch up her already flawless mouth with a carmine lip pencil. “Your attachment to Thomas is unnatural. No one walks into a house and takes to a child as you apparently have to him—instantaneously, as it were—unless she has a hidden agenda.” Sunlight dazzled briefly in the reflection from the compact mirror as she snapped it closed. “Just between us women, Nicole, what is it you really want from this job?”

Despite the sun, Nicole went cold, afraid she’d somehow tipped her hand and that the other woman had guessed her secret. But then common sense prevailed. Louise wasn’t interested in Tommy; Pierce was her only concern. “There’s no hidden agenda, Miss Trent. I’m merely bringing to this position the same dedication I’ve brought to others I’ve held.”

“So the child is the drawing card?”

“Yes.”

“And Pierce?”

Certainly no one could ever accuse Louise Trent of skirting an issue! She delivered the question in the form of a challenge, her attractive hazel eyes laser sharp as they tracked Nicole’s face where the beginnings of a blush threatened.

Quickly, before it gave her away completely, Nicole sprang to her feet and began stacking the lunch dishes. “The Commander is merely my employer.”

It was true. He’d done nothing, said nothing, to lead her to believe otherwise. His primary consideration was making a home for Tommy and she was merely an accessory to that end. An entirely disposable accessory, should she not perform satisfactorily.

In the clear light of day, her nighttime thoughts about him showed up for what they were: ridiculous fantasies of the kind that junior nurses often harbored about doctors and which she liked to think she’d outgrown years ago. Louise Trent need fear nothing from her. “I love children,” she said. “I have devoted my entire adult life to them.”

“Very noble of you, I’m sure,” Louise replied silkily. “And very clever, too.”

“Clever?”

“Well, my dear, Pierce would have a difficult time justifying your presence here if Thomas shrieked every time he set eyes on you, now wouldn’t he? As it is, he’s indebted to you.” There followed a small, calculated pause. “As am L Your competence and dedication allow Pierce and me to pursue our private relationship without fear that Thomas is being neglected. We are both very grateful. I’m sure you understand what I’m saying?”

“Perfectly.” Nicole held the stare directed her way without flinching. “Three’s a crowd.”

Louise Trent’s smile was about as subtle as a tiger drawing back its lips to reveal its teeth. “Very good, dear! I so dislike having to belabor a point. You’re a perceptive woman, Nicole.”

I’m a liar, Nicole thought, watching Louise walk away. I’m lying to everyone, including myself. And I can’t afford to make an enemy of a woman who, if she ever uncovered my deceit, would cut me up in little pieces and serve me to Pierce on a platter.

“Hey, Nicole!” Pierce waved from the shallow end of the pool, his dark hair slicked down and gleaming with water. Tommy bobbed at his side, squealing with glee. “Somebody here wants your company.”

Temptation beckoned. Where was the harm, after all? And wasn’t this what she’d been hired to do: stand in as the mother figure for a little boy who’d lost both parents?

Yes, the voice of common sense agreed. But not if, in the process, you forget that Pierce Warner’s role stops short of being your mate. He’s seeing another woman. He’ll be spending the evening with her—maybe the whole night. Three isn’t really a crowd here. It’s just that, job description notwithstanding, you’re not the third member of the party. Louise Trent is, and she won’t willingly abdicate the spot.

“Come on, Nicole. What’s keeping you?”

Although the effort made her teeth ache, she smiled and picked up the lunch dishes. “I promised to help Janet pick raspberries for dessert tonight. I’ll take over later while you get ready to go out.”

He shrugged the broad, tanned shoulders which recently had occupied far too much of her attention. “If that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. But what she wanted wasn’t hers to have.

He didn’t come home until after one the next morning. Not that Nicole spent the entire time clock watching, but Tommy had woken up crying and she just happened to be on her way to his room when Pierce appeared at the top of the stairs.

“What is it?” he asked in a low voice, striding down the hall toward her. “Is Tom sick or something?”

“I think he’s having one of his bad dreams. The monitor picked up the sound of him crying out.”

“Poor kid,” Pierce murmured sympathetically. “Want me to lend a hand getting him settled?”

“I can manage on my own.”

“I’m sure you can, Nicole, but he might feel better having both of us there to reassure him.”

Hunching her shoulders, she said, “Suit yourself,” and couldn’t resist adding, “if you’re not too tired, that is.”

He could hardly have missed the sarcasm in her voice but she didn’t give him time to take issue with it. Slipping past him, she hurried into Tommy’s room.

He lay in a tangle of covers, with his face flushed and damp with tears. “It’s too dark,” he sobbed. “I want my mommy.”

Nicole swept him into her arms and rocked him. “Tommy, darling, wake up. You were dreaming again, but I’m here now.”

“Mommy forgot me,” he wailed. “She left me by myself.”

“You’re not by yourself, darling. Uncle Pierce is here and so am I.” The tears were dribbling down her face, too; tears of grief and tears of helplessness. How could anyone hope to fill the awful gaping hole left in a child’s life when neither of his parents would ever come home to him again?