The baby wasn’t the only one playing havoc with her emotions, Bethany was forced to admit. Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Letter to Reader Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Copyright

The baby wasn’t the only one playing havoc with her emotions, Bethany was forced to admit.

Nicholas Frakes was also having an odd effect on her equilibrium. When she first planned to interview him, she had reckoned without the sheer animal magnetism he exuded. She had never before met a man who was so...well...male.

On the surface he was everything she disliked in a man: physically large, which made her feel uncomfortably small and vulnerable, and so attractive that he had to be a candidate for Playboy of the Western World.

But playboys didn’t usually take in orphaned babies or run themselves ragged trying to get them to eat, she acknowledged. And just being around him made her want to do reckless things...like cook and clean and take care of his baby.

Take care of him.

What was happening to her?

Dear Reader,

August is jam-packed with exciting promotions and top-notch authors in Silhouette Romance! Leading off the month is RITA Award-winning author Marie Ferrarella with Suddenly...Marriage!, a lighthearted VIRGIN BRIDES story set in sultry New Orleans. A man and woman, both determined to remain single, exchange vows in a mock ceremony during Mardi Gras, only to learn their bogus marriage is for real....

With over five million books in print, Valerie Parv returns to the Romance lineup with Baby Wishes and Bachelor Kisses. In this delightful BUNDLES OF JOY tale, a confirmed bachelor winds up sole guardian of his orphaned niece and must rely on the baby-charming heroine for daddy lessons—and lessons in love. Stella Bagwell continues her wildly successful TWINS ON THE DOORSTEP series with The Ranger and the Widow Woman. When a Texas Ranger discovers a stranded mother and son, he welcomes them into his home. But the pretty widow harbors secrets this lawman-in-love needs to uncover.

Carla Cassidy kicks off our second MEN! promotion with Will You Give My Mommy a Baby? A 911 call from a five-year-old boy lands a single mom and a true-blue, red-blooded hero in a sticky situation that quickly sets off sparks. USA Today bestselling author Sharon De Vita concludes her LULLABIES AND LOVE miniseries with Baby and the Officer. A crazy-about-kids cop discovers he’s a dad, but when he goes head-to-head with his son’s beautiful adoptive mother, he realizes he’s fallen head over heels. And Martha Shields rounds out the month with And Cowboy Makes Three, the second title in her COWBOYS TO THE RESCUE series. A woman who wants a baby and a cowboy who needs an heir agree to many but discover the honeymoon is just the beginning....

Don’t miss these exciting stories by Romance’s unforgettable storytellers!

Enjoy.

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor Silhouette Books

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Baby Wishes And Bachelor Kisses
Valerie Parv

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Lynne and Michael, in praise of all engineers

VALERIE PARV lives and breathes romance and has even written a guide to being romantic, crediting her cartoonist husband of twenty-six years as her inspiration. As a former buffalo and crocodile hunter in Australia’s Northern Territory, he’s ready-made hero material, she says.

When not writing her novels and nonfiction books, or speaking about romance on Australian radio and television, Valerie enjoys dollhouses, being a Star Trek fan and playing with food (while cooking, that is). Valerie agrees with actor Nichelle Nichols, who said, “The difference between fantasy and fact is that fantasy simply hasn’t happened yet.”

Dear Reader,

One of my real-life heroes is Dr. Denis Waitley, a former Blue Angel and NASA advisor, now internationally acclaimed author and lecturer. In short, a man who has his act well and truly together. Yet, at his seminars he tells of being brought to his knees trying to persuade his baby daughter to eat. This delightful image provided some of the inspiration for Baby Wishes and Bachelor Kisses, in which hero Nicholas Frakes connects with heroine Bethany Dale as a result of a similar experience. It was probably unfair to pit him against not one but two females, one being an adorable baby girl, but I figured a man of Nicholas’s caliber could handle them both.

I also wanted to explore the fascination small things hold for most of us. Whether they are human babies, baby animals or miniature objects, small things speak to all of us in a very personal way—as I notice whenever a new visitor sees my magnificent dollhouse, which holds a lifetime’s collection of miniature furnishings.

It was a joy to bring so many of my passions together, resulting in one of my all-time favorite books. May it also become one of yours.

Love,

Prologue

Nicholas Frakes drew a deep breath as his gaze rested on Maree. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her, yet he felt drawn to study every detail of her over and over again as if there was a hunger inside him that her very existence was designed to satisfy.

Since moving in with him, Maree had changed his life in ways he had never imagined when he proposed the idea. Some of the changes were wonderful. He didn’t have to go out in order to have female company. Maree was always there and happy to listen to him without interrupting, no matter what topic he wanted to discuss. She quite enjoyed watching sports on television, although it was obvious she didn’t have a clue what was going on. But she didn’t mind him explaining things in detail and generally managed to look interested.

Some of the changes were a pain in the neck. For starters, they could never agree on what time to go to bed and when to get up in the morning, so he was severely sleep-deprived from trying to adjust to her life-style. Yet she wasn’t about to adjust to his, and she knew perfectly well he could deny her nothing.

She had only to look at him with those huge luminous blue eyes, and favor him with her smile, which was fit to melt stone, and he was lost. She was doing it now, regarding him curiously from under impossibly long black lashes which rested on cheeks for which the description “peaches and cream” had been invented. What was a man to do?

Then there was the matter of diet. This week she had decided to be a vegetarian, which Nicholas most certainly was not. Yet he had spent most of the morning cooking up rabbit food to keep her happy.

“Why can’t you enjoy a steak like the rest of humanity?” he grumbled as he brought a dish of bland-tasting green stuff to where she waited at the table. He swore under his breath as she looked away, her expression plainly disgusted.

“Last week you couldn’t get enough of this stuff,” he muttered, trying to keep his temper in check. Lately they’d had more than their share of screaming matches, and he was so tired he was in no mood for another one today. What in blazes had he gotten himself into, inviting such a fickle creature into his life on a full-time basis? If he’d known what he was getting into, he would have run as far and as fast in the opposite direction as he could.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he contradicted himself, a smile working its way to the surface in spite of his exhaustion and ill humor. “I would still have made room for you in my life because you’re my only niece. Since your mother and father were killed, you have no one else but your uncle Nicholas. And you’re only ten months old, for crying out loud. No, scratch the ‘crying out loud’ bit. You didn’t hear that, Maree. No crying, loud or otherwise. I said no crying... no...come on now, eat some of this lovely spinach.”

But his pleas were drowned by the rising scale of her wails, which lanced through his skull as if he was being attacked with a chain saw. He tried taking advantage of her open mouth to shovel some of the spinach in as a distraction, but it came out the same way, only a good deal faster.

“Maree, as much as I love you, there are times...” he growled, surveying the rivulets of pureed spinach running down his bare chest. Just as well he hadn’t had time to put his shirt on this morning or he’d be changing it already. Skin was easier to launder than fabric.

Then another thought came to him, and his shaky smile broadened. Since Lana left he’d all but lost track of the days, trying to keep up with his work as an acoustical engineer, as well as take care of Maree on his own. Wasn’t today the day that woman from the child care magazine was due to visit him?

Bethany Something. She had written asking if she could interview him for an article for the journal she edited called—what was it? He only knew it was something to do with babies. Lord, he could barely think straight. She must have decided to approach him as a result of a story in the local paper about what they called “the sexy single dad.”

Given the circumstances under which he’d become a father, it was an insensitive approach, if it was even accurate. Single he may be, a dad definitely, but sexy? Sexy guys didn’t swab spinach off their pecs, he thought ruefully as he suited the action to the thought. His brain might be fried but at least his body was still in decent shape even though he hadn’t had much chance to work out since Maree moved in. She kept him as much on the run as any personal trainer.

He’d been interviewed for the last article when Maree was four months younger and sleeping most of the time, so the picture had changed since then. What Bethany What’s-her-name would make of today’s performance was another matter. After the insensitivity of the last write-up, he had resolved to turn any more writers away. Then it came to him that this Bethany woman might have some answers for his current problems. If so, the trade would be more than fair.

“For a start, she can tell me how to convince you to eat,” he said to the screaming baby whose peaches-and-cream complexion was steadily reddening from the force of her cries. He’d tried seeking information from the local baby care authorities, but they had addressed most of their advice to his former fiancée. It was natural enough, and he didn’t blame them, but it wasn’t much help with Lana no longer on the scene.

Thinking of Lana provoked another sigh. As one of Australia’s top fashion models and an only child to boot, she was hardly an expert on parenthood, any more than Nicholas himself. But at least he was willing to learn. Lana had said she was willing, but she had proved remarkably adept at disappearing whenever the baby was either messy or noisy, which was ninety percent of the time.

“Crying for seven hours straight last week wasn’t your smartest move,” he reproved the howling child gently. Lana had declared herself through with motherhood, packed her bags and left for Melbourne, to the apartment they had shared before Nicholas moved both home and consultancy back to his property in the Macedon Ranges.

Lana had hated the move and made no secret of preferring the bright-lights, big-city scene to living on a country acreage surrounded by vineyards and artists’ colonies, even though he explained that a child needed growing space and room to run and play.

“How far can she run in a bassinet?” Lana had demanded.

He should have seen the end coming then, but he’d hoped that they would somehow work things out and become a family. If Lana had only waited another half hour, Maree would have cried herself to sleep.

It wouldn’t have helped, he acknowledged. The baby was like a faulty fire alarm, liable to go off at any time. Like now, for instance. She was up to a three-alarm already and the decibels were still climbing. It would be easier if Maree would take to a nanny, but Nicholas would have sworn the local women he auditioned were potential ax murderers, from the way Maree reacted to them. A psychological consequence of losing her parents, he assumed.

For the first time he wondered if Lana had been jealous of the amount of time and attention Maree demanded from Nicholas. Did all babies cause such havoc in their parents’ relationship? His scientist’s mind worried at the question, but he was too exhausted to deal with it now. He only hoped this Bethany had some answers, because he was fresh out of them.

Chapter One

The unexpected sound of a baby screaming stopped Bethany Dale in her tracks outside the substantial colonial farmhouse that belonged to Nicholas Frakes. As far as she knew Nicholas Frakes was a bachelor. According to an old article she’d clipped from a magazine and kept, Nicholas was involved in a torrid affair with a fashion model, but there was no mention of a child. Yet the sounds coming from inside the house were unmistakable.

The front door stood open, shielded by a handsome, period-style, security screen door, and the baby’s cries reached her clearly on the wide verandah that shaded the house on three sides. Bethany’s reaction was instant and fierce. Waves of primitive need clawed at her, bringing a huge lump to her throat so she could hardly breathe.

Why did Nicholas Frakes have to be entertaining visitors with a baby on the day he had agreed to see Bethany? It didn’t seem fair. Now she would have to conduct her interview while striving to ignore the ache she could already feel starting deep inside her.

Her eyes began to mist, and she blinked furiously. She had to get hold of herself before she rang the doorbell to announce her arrival. The world was full of babies. Just because she was unable to have any of her own was no reason to go to pieces every time she heard one crying.

Even aversion therapy hadn’t helped. After discovering the truth, she had deliberately volunteered to work in the newborn room at the children’s shelter in Melbourne where she worked part-time. But instead of putting her off babies, being around them had only deepened her sense of loss.

As a distraction, she had decided to throw herself into the journal she edited for people who shared her enthusiasm for dollhouses and miniatures, although the name of her publication was ironic. She had called it The Baby House, the name historically used to describe dollhouses before they had become children’s toys. Of course, she had named it before finding out that she couldn’t have children. But it was uncanny how she seemed destined to be surrounded by reminders of her barren state.

She drew a deep, shuddering breath. She was not—repeat not—going to let this beat her. Surely her parents’ example was all the proof she needed that other forms of parenting could be equally gratifying? The Dale family included three foster siblings as well as Bethany, her older brother, Sam, and little sister, Joanie, and all six of them loved and fought and loved again with all the passion of blood brothers and sisters.

She could handle one unexpected baby, she told herself resolutely, especially if it meant persuading Nicholas Frakes to let her interview him about the Frakes Baby House for her journal. That was, once he got over being furious with her for concealing the real reason she was here. She hadn’t lied exactly, except by omission. But she had used her business letterhead and suggested that the article would concern family history in this area. In a way, it did, she told herself to silence the nagging voice of her conscience. She hadn’t said it wasn’t about the dollhouse so she couldn’t be responsible for whatever conclusions Nicholas Frakes chose to draw.

She wished she’d had more time to research his background more thoroughly but his faxed agreement, scribbled on the bottom of her letter, had come out of the blue two days before. She had been working at the children’s shelter until late on both days, leaving her no time to do anything but write out a few questions she would like him to answer.

She was sure he would have refused to see her if she had mentioned the real purpose of her visit. It was Nicholas himself who had withdrawn his family’s famous dollhouse from public display soon after inheriting the Frakes estate on his father’s death. Why, nobody seemed to know, but he had resisted all overtures from the media to gain access to it. It would be a real coup if Bethany could secure the interview and photograph the house as it was today.

Her breath escaped in a rush. Without the boost to circulation provided by this story, her journal wouldn’t survive for another issue. She could have struggled on, funding it herself, if the printer hadn’t gone bankrupt while holding a substantial amount of her capital and leaving her in debt. But she couldn’t let herself dwell on what was riding on this interview or she would lose her nerve altogether. And there would be no story unless she gained the cooperation of the formidable Nicholas Frakes.

Squaring her shoulders and drawing herself up to her full five foot seven, including her heeled shoes, she pressed the doorbell, hearing it ring distantly inside the house. At the same moment, the baby began to scream again louder than ever, and Bethany’s heart turned over. The child sounded so desolate. Why didn’t somebody do something to comfort it? In spite of her resolve to remain unmoved, her arms ached to hold the child and rock away those pathetic cries.

After the third ring, when no one came to the door, Bethany decided the occupants couldn’t possibly hear her above the sound of the crying baby, so she set off around the verandah in search of another entrance where she could make her presence known.

The house was a delightful blend of traditional and modern styles, the rough-sawn timber cladding blending charmingly with bay windows, a steeply pitched corrugated roof and stained-glass panels set into French doors that could be opened onto the verandah to let in cooling breezes. One set stood open, and frothy curtains billowed outward as Bethany moved cautiously toward them.

“Hello. Is anyone home?” she called tentatively.

There was no response so she stepped over the threshold, finding herself in what was obviously a man’s bedroom. A not very tidy man, she observed, wrinkling her nose involuntarily. The massive mahogany bed looked as if it hadn’t been made for days, with black silk sheets and continental quilt dragging onto the floor as if the occupant had hurled himself out in a hurry.

The black silk made her smile. Definitely a bachelor. No woman in her right mind would choose such difficult-to-launder materials. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and Bethany felt her color heighten as she noticed the underwear draped over one corner of a cheval mirror. Evidently Nicholas Frakes’s taste ran to skimpy briefs of almost transparent silk.

The sight of herself in the same mirror brought her up short. Her moss green linen pantsuit looked so businesslike for this setting. A black chiffon negligee would be more appropriate. No, not black—too strong for her creamy complexion, she decided. Coral was more becoming. And her honey-colored hair should be released from its clasp at her nape to flow around her shoulders in untamed curls, although the comma curl on her forehead could stay. It added a touch of coquettishness to her teal blue eyes and with luck, provided a distraction from the scattering of freckles on her fair skin. Then she would be ready for such a hedonistic setting as this room.

In horror she realized where her thoughts were heading. She had no right to be here, far less to be taking such a prurient interest in Nicholas Frakes’s bedroom, if this was even his room. Averting her eyes from the chaos, she hurriedly crossed the room and stepped out into a wide vaulted hallway.

The crying sounds grew louder as she headed toward them. She skidded to a halt at what was apparently the door to the kitchen. It was a huge room with a massive stone fireplace and a vaulted, steeply pitched ceiling. In the center was a scarred oak table, and seated at it in a high chair was the unhappy little girl making all the noise. Beside her was an equally unhappy man trying unsuccessfully to spoon food into her mouth.

Bethany stared in amazement at the tableau. She had seen a photograph of Nicholas Frakes’s head and shoulders, but it hadn’t prepared her for the height and breadth of the man. A fraction over six feet tall, he stooped awkwardly over the high chair. A pair of stonewashed moleskin pants rode low on narrow hips, the seams strained to their limits as he braced his long legs wide apart. She had a momentary vision of trying to keep pace with the stride those legs would take, and she felt out of breath just thinking about it.

He wore no shirt, and his bronzed torso gleamed in the sunshine spilling through an open window, the sight putting further restraints on her breathing until she noticed the telltale green streaking the sculpted perfection of his chest. He might have the build of an athlete but he was human after all. If that wasn’t spinach he was wearing, then she’d eat the baby food herself.

The discovery gave her the courage to say loudly, “Nicholas Frakes?”

The man snapped upright as if shot. “Good Lord, where did you spring from?”

She held out her hand. “I’m Bethany Dale. We had an appointment, remember? You didn’t hear the bell so I came in the back way.”

“The back way is locked,” he said pointedly.

There was no escaping the confession, although she blushed at being forced into the admission. “The French doors into your bedroom were open. I came in that way. I’m sorry if I’m intruding.”

He thrust a hand through his hair which was the blue-black color of gunmetal and cropped close to his head in almost a military style. The texture was intriguing. Would it feel soft or bristly if she brushed her fingers against it?

She was doing it again, she realized with a start. What was it about Nicholas Frakes that inspired these almost voyeuristic tendencies in her? First the underwear. Now she was wondering how it would feel to brush her fingers through his hair. And she had barely set eyes on the man.

“You’re here now so the question is academic. We’re almost finished. Milady is finished,” he added with a tired jerk of his head toward the baby who was banging a plastic cup angrily against the tray of her high chair. “I suppose she’ll eat if she gets really hungry.”

Bethany glanced curiously around, putting two and two together. “You’re here on your own with—”

“Maree,” he supplied. “Yes, it’s just me and my loud friend.”

Loud was right. Bethany could hardly hear herself think over the baby’s racket. She certainly couldn’t conduct an interview under these conditions, even if Nicholas agreed to cooperate. For all their sakes, and especially for the sake of the little girl whose cries threatened to melt Bethany’s remaining reserves, there was only one thing to do.

“Would you like some help?”

He looked so thankful as he nodded and held out the tiny spoon, that her heart was further caught in a viselike squeeze. She could see how tired he was. His bronzed skin had a pale undercast as if sleep was a distant memory, and there were violet smudges beneath both his eyes which were a compelling pewter color.

When she accepted the spoon he smiled and the fatigue cleared briefly, like a glimpse of the sun coming out on a cloudy day. The temptation to bask in the warmth of his smile was almost irresistible, and she felt her own mouth tilt upward in response. “If you can convince her to eat, I’ll be forever in your debt.”

She knew she wouldn’t hold him to the promise, however tempting it was to turn the situation to her own advantage. Whatever cooperation she gained, he would have to give freely if she was to live with herself afterward. So she shook her head. “I’ll do whatever I can to help. No obligation.”

The intensity of his gaze on her was a further distraction as she dipped the spoon into the depleted bowl of pureed spinach and offered the handle of the spoon to the baby. As Bethany had hoped, Maree was so surprised by the gesture that she froze in midhowl, turning her tear-streaked face to Nicholas in confusion.

Then, hesitantly, she reached for the spoon and grasped it between chubby thumb and forefinger. Most of the spinach slid off the spoon onto the tray, and Maree watched it fall with an expression of fascination. “Ah, ah, ah,” she said, then tipped the spoon so the rest of the contents joined the little pile.

Bethany pushed the bowl toward the baby. “That’s it, you do it. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

She guided the hand gripping the spoon toward the food, managing to scoop some up, then helped Maree steer it toward her mouth. Nicholas’s gasp of astonishment was audible between them as some of the food made it into the baby’s mouth. Then with a chuckle she upended the spoon and added the rest to the pile on the tray.

“Well I’ll be darned,” Nicholas said in awe. “Was that what she was trying to tell me, that she wanted to feed herself?”

Bethany helped Maree to load the spoon again. “Uh-huh.” She glanced at him. “She’s what—nine or ten months old?”

Her sideways look caught his nod of agreement. “Ten months.”

Bethany smiled. “At that age very few babies will let you feed them. They want to do it all themselves. The best solution is to give them a few soft bites of food at a time and stay out of it. They’ve finally worked out what their fingers are for, and they can’t wait to use them at every opportunity.”

He smiled back, and the tiredness lifted from his face, which positively glowed with the light of this new information. It came to her that Nicholas was a man who enjoyed learning things and wasn’t too proud to let a woman teach him, provided he was sure she knew what she was talking about. The insight startled her for an instant as she became aware of a temporary bond stretching between them, forged by their concern for this adorable baby. Bethany would give a lot not to have to break that bond by revealing the real reason for her visit.

Knowing it was foolish, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, at least not for the moment. She told herself it was for the baby’s sake, but it wasn’t the whole truth. She enjoyed the way Nicholas was looking at her, as if she was some kind of miracle worker. After her recent experience with her fiancé, Alexander Kouros, who had dumped her as soon as he discovered she couldn’t have his children, it felt good to have a man look at her as if she was special and wonderful. It would change as soon as Nicholas knew why she was here, but for now it felt uncommonly good.

“You have a knack for this,” he told her, his rich baritone voice admiring. “It never occurred to me that her howls were a declaration of independence.”

“It wouldn’t unless you know what to expect,” she assured him. Working at the children’s shelter, as well as helping to bring up her foster brothers and sisters, she’d had more than the usual amount of practice for her age. It made the knowledge that she could never use her experience to mother her own child all the more painful.

As she felt her eyes start to swim, she blinked furiously. She had promised herself she wasn’t going to let this beat her. “There’s something else we can try. Do you have any ripe bananas?”

He looked startled but moved toward the refrigerator where a well-filled fruit bowl was perched as if it had been shoved there out of harm’s way. “Will this do?”

Bethany accepted the golden fruit, feeing it yield to her exploratory squeeze. “Perfect.” She peeled half the fruit, broke off two small chunks and placed them in Maree’s plastic bowl. “Here you go, kitten. Try these for size.”

With another gurgling “ah, ah, ah” sound, the baby pincered one of the chunks and dropped it onto the pile of cold spinach. Bethany’s flickering glance caught Nicholas’s pained wince, but he wisely said nothing. Moments later Maree rescued the banana and poked it into her mouth, gnawing on it contentedly.

Bethany levered herself up from her kneeling position beside the high chair. “The best thing we can do is leave her to eat the banana by herself. Or not as she chooses.”

“She won’t choke or anything?”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to leave the room. Just get on with a few chores and keep your eye on her progress, but let her make most of the running. As soon as she starts playing with the food, lift her down and wait until the next mealtime. It helps not to let her graze between meals. That way she’ll be hungry for what’s on the menu next time around.”

“You are truly amazing. Are you sure you’re real and not some kind of fairy godmother?” he asked, an appreciative light dancing in his pewter gaze. It made the years peel away so she got a momentary glimpse of the boy he must have been—handsome, devilish and irresistibly attractive. All the qualities were still there, but packaged in a body that was so undeniably male that she felt a surge of involuntary response.

What would it be like to be on the receiving end of a personal compliment from this man, she found herself wondering. She had a feeling he wouldn’t bestow them idly, but neither would he withhold them if he thought they were genuinely deserved. The thought brought a flush of color to her cheeks, and she turned to watch Maree so he wouldn’t see his effect on her.

Her reaction was as inappropriate as it was unexpected, and she tried to tell herself it was probably no more than a rebound thing. She had been hurt by Alexander. In his gratitude, Nicholas was being charming to her. He was also the most attractive man she’d met in a long time. It wasn’t hard to see why the combination should so disturb her.

If she let it. She decided to keep the conversation on neutral ground. “All babies go through this stage. They’re learning how to use their bodies and control their world, which starts with trying to control their parents. I’m sure Maree’s crying has dragged her mother out in the middle of the night plenty of times lately. It’s a kind of test to see if the baby can make her mother respond.”

There was a long silence punctuated only by the sound of the baby playing with the banana. “I’m afraid Maree hasn’t had that luxury. Her mother and father were killed seven months ago. I’m the only relative she has left.”

Her gaze flew from the gurgling child to the man standing behind the high chair. He looked as if he was carved from stone but his eyes held a bleakness which tore at her. Her admiration of him soared, even as she felt her heart go out to him in his personal tragedy. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“You didn’t read the article in the local paper?”

She shook her head, and a frown of puzzlement etched his brow as if he had expected her to know and couldn’t understand why she didn’t. Was he mixing her up with another writer? The only way she could find out was by confessing her real purpose and now didn’t seem like the right time. “I’m afraid not. If you’d rather I went away and came back some other time.” She was gathering up her bag as she spoke.

His hand on her arm stayed her. “You don’t have to leave. It still hurts to think about, but I’ve had time to come to terms with what happened.”

The heat of his touch sent awareness flashing through her, as incandescent as a signal flare. Her eyes widened. Had Nicholas felt it, too? With an effort she met his eyes and made herself ask, “Was it an accident?”

He nodded. “There was a signal failure at a railway crossing not far from here. My brother and sister-in-law were driving across when an express train slammed into their car without any warning. Maree was the only survivor because she was strapped into a baby seat. Even then, given the state of the car, it was a miracle she survived. There wasn’t a scratch on her.”

This time when her eyes blurred she made no attempt to conceal it from him. “What a terrible tragedy.”

“It was, but all we can do is go on.”

“As you’re doing with your little niece?”

He nodded. “I’m all she has in the world, and I mean to give her the best upbringing I possibly can.”

The baby, her cheeks bulging with bananas, looked the picture of health and happiness as she bounced up and down in her high chair. Apart from the recent adornment of pureed spinach, she was spotlessly clean, dressed in a gorgeous romper suit decorated in teddy bears, with a pink ribbon adorning one of her baby curls.

She was in far better condition than her uncle, Bethany decided. Nicholas looked as if he had thrown his pants on in haste and forgotten—or never had time—to shave this morning. A bluish tinge darkened the strong line of his jaw, giving him a rugged, almost-piratical appearance which was more appealing than it had any right to be. The fatigue darkening his eyes only added to his masculine appeal, and to her horror, Bethany found herself wishing she could do something to help.

This would never do. She was here for one purpose and one only, to persuade him to let her write about the Frakes Baby House. But how could she come out and say so now, when he had just revealed the depths of a personal tragedy far greater than she had anticipated?

She couldn’t, she decided. Her hand closed resolutely around her bag. “I should go. The interview can wait until another time.”

“Dammit, you needn’t start feeling sorry for me,” he growled, startling her into freezing where she stood. “I’ve had enough of that from my neighbors around here. They act as if Maree and I have a contagious disease called tragedy. When you walked in knowing nothing about out situation, you treated us just like anybody else and it was like a breath of fresh air. At least stay and have a cup of coffee with me. You said yourself the best thing to do is keep busy in the kitchen while Maree feeds herself.”

Bethany gave a wan smile. “All right, one cup of coffee. But only if it’s no trouble.”

“After the morning I’ve had, coffee isn’t any trouble, it’s a medical necessity,” he assured her. “How do you take yours?”

“Black with one sugar,” she supplied, settling herself on a high stool next to a breakfast counter. It was cluttered with the remains of what looked like his breakfast, and she smiled wryly at the sight of an open packet of chocolate flavored cereal, a milk carton and a plastic bowl, the twin of the one Maree was using. Evidently Nicholas didn’t believe in healthy breakfasts, for himself, anyway.

As he spooned coffee into the pot, he looked up in time to catch her smile. “What?”

“No wonder you look so tired if you’re existing on this stuff,” she observed.

He shrugged. “Who has time to cook?”

She surprised herself by saying, “If you keep an eye on the baby, I’ll make you an omelette that will make your mouth water.”

His mouth looked as if it was watering at the very idea. His sweeping gesture took in the refrigerator and stove. “Be my guest. Everything you’re likely to need is here.”

He moved aside to let her take over the food preparation area, and she surveyed the gleaming modern stove with apprehension. She must be crazy letting a misguided sense of compassion drive her to volunteer for this. Or was she simply delaying the moment when she had to disillusion him by admitting why she was really here?

Whatever the reason, it was too late to back out now. Nicholas had thrown himself into a comfortable-looking oversize leather chair which flanked the stone fireplace. He watched with interest as she whipped up eggs and milk, shredded cheese and added a few leaves of parsley from a pot growing on the windowsill, then set the mixture sizzling in a large cast-iron pan.

It did smell good, she thought with a flush of pride, as she placed a plate on a small table beside him a few minutes later. He eyed the golden creation hungrily. “You really are a miracle worker if you cook as well as you charm babies.”

A perverse streak of pride prevented her from admitting that an omelette was the only thing she could cook, other than baby food. Her brother Sam called her the “Thrill Griller” because he never knew what was going to come out of her culinary efforts. More often than not it was a charred mess. In defiance, to avoid being the butt of any more family jokes whenever it was her turn to cook dinner, she had gritted her teeth and mastered the art of making omelettes. Served with a salad, her cheese omelette could pass any test.

It was doing so now, she saw as Nicholas proceeded to demolish the six egg treat with total disdain for the risk to his arteries from all that cholesterol. She had loaded the omelette with extra cheese since he looked as if he could use the fuel. “This is good,” he mumbled around a forkful of food. He sounded so much like Maree with her banana that Bethany had to smother a laugh. She didn’t think he would appreciate the comparison.

To distract herself while he ate, she tidied up the remains of the baby’s meal then draped a towel over her shoulder and lifted Maree out of the high chair, resting her against the towel. Several hearty burps later, one of which she would swear hadn’t come from the baby, Bethany handed Maree to her surrogate father. “Both of you look disgustingly satisfied,” she observed, feeing an unwilling frisson of pleasure at her own part in the achievement.

Nicholas began to jiggle Maree on his knee, and the baby chortled happily. “I’d say we’re both in luck with our fairy godmother, don’t you agree, Mareedle-deedle-dumpling?” The baby gurgled what sounded like agreement. “There, you see? The expert in fairy godmothers agrees with me.”

Bethany felt an ache so sharp and fierce that at first she didn’t connect it with the sight of the big man cradling the baby against the hard wall of his bare chest. But nothing else could explain the intensity of the pain which knifed through her. It had to be the image of Maree’s dark head nestled in the angle between Nicholas’s powerful jaw and his chest. He rested one hand lightly against Maree’s back while the other cupped her chubby hips as if holding a baby was the most natural thing in the world to him.

Bethany was gripped by a need so powerful it threatened her breathing. She turned away and forced herself to say around a betraying huskiness, “I’ll finish making the coffee.”

The simple act of locating cups and pouring the brewed coffee into them helped to anchor her so that by the time she turned to ask Nicholas how he preferred his coffee, her hands no longer trembled.

She needn’t have worried. In the few minutes it took her to pour the coffee, both Nicholas and the baby resting on his chest were fast asleep.

Chapter Two

“Oh my.” Bethany finally allowed her eyes to brim as she sagged against the breakfast counter. Nothing was going to disturb Nicholas and Maree for a while. They made such a heartwarming sight that she would have felt moved to tears even without the biological need clamoring at her.

The baby wasn’t the only one playing havoc with her emotions, Bethany was forced to admit as she sipped the coffee moodily. Nicholas Frakes was also having an odd effect on her equilibrium. When she first planned to interview him, she had reckoned without the sheer animal magnetism he exuded. She had never before met a man who was so...well... male.

On the surface he was everything she disliked in a man: physically large, which made her feel uncomfortably small and vulnerable; messy and disorganized, when she preferred everything to be in its place; and so attractive that he had to be a candidate for Playboy of the Western World.

All right, she was clutching at straws with this last one. Playboys didn’t usually take in orphaned babies or run themselves ragged trying to get them to eat, she acknowledged, her innate sense of fair play springing to the fore. He did have some redeeming qualities. But he was still large and messy, and just being around him made her want to do reckless things like cook and clean and take care of his baby.

What was going on here?

She gave herself a mental shake. Finding Nicholas in charge of a baby when it was the last thing she’d expected must be distorting her perception. It was also making her forget that she was here under false pretenses. Nicholas believed The Baby House had something to do with child care. Once he knew her journal was for dollhouse enthusiasts, it would be the end of her fairy godmother image. He probably wouldn’t be able to get her out of his house fast enough.

The thought was enough to banish the mistiness from her eyes. She finished the coffee and looked around. Interviewing Nicholas was out of the question until he’d slept off his exhaustion, so she may as well make herself useful. It might even weigh in her favor when he was deciding whether or not to throw her out on her ear.

She started in the kitchen, collecting and washing the accumulated dishes and sweeping the floor. Searching around for a garbage bin, she almost fell over two baskets of clothes waiting to be washed in the laundry. She gave a sigh. In for a penny...

Luckily the laundry was well organized, so she soon had the clothes sorted and the first load humming away in the modern machine. There was enough here for three loads, she thought, stooping to sort the remaining basket. Didn’t Nicholas believe in doing laundry? Or was he waiting for his live-in lady friend to return and do it for him?

Maybe she was the driving force behind providing a home for Maree, Bethany thought with sudden insight. Bethany had given Nicholas all the credit, but maybe it belonged to the missing model she’d read about in the outdated magazine.

As if to prove her theory, Bethany came across a silk blouse at the bottom of the last basket. It definitely didn’t belong to Nicholas, and Maree was too young for such delicate apparel. That left the model who was probably away on a photographic assignment. Bethany swore under her breath at her own gullibility. If she’d used her head in the first place, she would have realized that no man slept on black satin sheets for his own amusement.

She had only herself to blame. Just as she had avoided telling Nicholas the real reason for her visit, he hadn’t actually said he lived alone with the baby, only that he was on his own today. So they were even in the lying-by-omission stakes. Somehow the thought was little comfort, and Bethany finished sorting the laundry with angry movements, slamming the washing machine lid down harder than was warranted. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was so angry, except that she was.

A wave of guilt washed over her as she heard a chorus of wails from the kitchen. By making such a racket all she’d managed to do was wake the baby. It didn’t bode well for the rest of the afternoon.

Nicholas didn’t look angry when he tracked her down in the laundry. He looked bemused at all she’d achieved while he slept. “You should have woken me. I should be doing that,” he told her, folding his arms and angling his body comfortably against the door frame.

She forced herself to ignore the impact of his presence in the small room. “Is Maree all right?”

“Rested, changed and playing with her toys in her playpen,” he informed her with a grin. “Changing her is one job I do know how to get right, maybe because I get so much practice at it.”

In spite of herself she felt a glow steal through her at the warmth of his smile, which was slightly crooked and showed the even whiteness of his teeth. The difference in their heights put her eyes close to the level of his mouth. A very kissable mouth, she found herself thinking. A mouth that could give as well as command. Another wave of heat curled through her, this time unmistakably sensual, and she ran her tongue across suddenly dry lips. This would have to stop since no good could come of it. Nicholas was already spoken for. She had the evidence right here in her hands.

She held out the filmy white blouse. “I didn’t think this should go in with the other clothes. It’s obviously delicate. When your friend comes home, she may prefer to have it dry-cleaned.”

A shadow darkened his features. “Lana’s unlikely to care either way. Country life didn’t suit her. She went home to Melbourne and she isn’t coming back.”

Bethany let the blouse fall back into the basket. “I’m sorry.” She was making a habit of apologizing to him, but this time she didn’t feel in the least sorry. She felt curiously elated to discover that the mysterious Lana had left, apparently for good. It was hardly a charitable response but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“These things happen,” he said dismissively, but the tension in his neck and shoulders wasn’t lost on her. He cared more than he wanted to admit. Well it was none of her business. She had already entangled herself in his domestic affairs far more than was wise. She had come here to do a job, not to get involved in his private life.

All the same it was difficult to respond with a casual nod, when she knew firsthand how painful it felt to be left nursing a wounded heart. “Shouldn’t you look in on Maree?” she made herself ask pointedly.

His piercing gaze rested on her for a long moment before he said, “Of course. You can leave the rest of the laundry for me. You’ve done more than enough already. I don’t know how I can possibly repay you.”

This was the opening she’d waited for, but she balked at taking advantage of it. “I’ll be happy with the interview I requested,” she said lightly, knowing she should use this chance to persuade him to give her the story. She couldn’t do it, she found to her dismay. If this was to work, he had to agree of his own volition. She couldn’t bring herself to blackmail him into it in exchange for the few chores she’d undertaken of her own accord.

He gave another crooked grin and held out his hand to help her step over the laundry baskets. “I could finish this,” she said with a backward look at the clothes, but his grip tightened and he towed her into the kitchen where Maree played happily in her playpen.

“Are you always this helpful to your interview subjects?” he asked, a lilt of wry humor in his tone. “If I’d known, you could have arrived earlier and worked your way through the rest of the housework.”

Thinking of the state of the bedroom she’d walked through on her way in, she shook her head. “No thanks. My life isn’t long enough.”

He pretended to be offended. “My housekeeping isn’t that bad. All right, maybe it is. But I have a consultancy to run as well as taking care of Maree. Editing a baby care magazine, you of all people should know how much time a toddler takes up.”

His hand in hers was warm, his strong fingers curling into her palm as if he had forgotten to release her now they were back in the kitchen. Slowly, aware of a feeling of reluctance, she untangled her hand. “Nicholas, we have to talk. I know my journal is called The Baby House but it isn’t what you think.”

“It isn’t about babies?”

“Not really.” She took a steadying breath. The truth had to come out sometime, and she had already postponed it far longer than was wise. “The Baby House is a specialized journal for collectors of miniatures and...dollhouses.”

The slow burn of his anger was evident from the rigidity of his stance and the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “Dollhouses?”

Miserably, she nodded. “They were known as baby houses in Victorian times when furniture makers and decorators used them to show off their skills, and women displayed collections of valuable miniatures in them, long before they became children’s toys.”

“Now I understand why you didn’t know about Maree from the story in the local paper,” he said coldly. “This isn’t about her, or about any kind of family history, is it?”

Bethany’s look went to the baby playing with a set of brightly colored plastic cups, oblivious of the storm breaking around her. “In a way, what I want to write does concern your family history. I want to do a story about the Frakes Baby House.”

His breath escaped in a whistling sound of annoyance. “If you know about that, then you must know I’m not interested in having it on public show. So your little scheme to get around me by pretending to be something you’re not was a waste of time.”

She had been prepared for the switch from friendliness to hostility as soon as he found out what she wanted, but his callous attack on her integrity made her see red. She didn’t stop to consider whether she would be less angry if he hadn’t charmed her so completely to begin with. “Now just a minute. I wrote to you on my business letterhead, asking for an interview. You were the one who jumped to the wrong conclusions.”

“And it never crossed your mind that I would?”

“Of course it did. But I hoped once we met and I explained to you what I wanted, you would see reason.”

He crossed his arms, towering over her in a blatant invasion of her space. “So you think it’s unreasonable of me to want to maintain my privacy?”

She stood her ground, determined not to back away and reveal how disturbing she found his closeness. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable at all. But my story doesn’t have to be an invasion of your privacy. If you don’t want me to, I won’t even mention your name.”

His eyes glittered ferally. “You’ll just refer to it as the Brand X Baby House?”

She couldn’t and he knew it. All she could do was retreat as gracefully as possible. She only wished it didn’t hurt so much. He hadn’t even given her a chance to explain what she wanted to do, and she still had no idea why he hated the idea of giving any publicity to the dollhouse that had been in his family for generations.

Nor did she understand why it mattered so much to her—not the story, although without it she had almost no chance of saving her journal—but why his good opinion was so important to her that it hurt to be on the receiving end of his derision. She had enjoyed being called a miracle worker and a fairy godmother, but there was more. She had enjoyed the appreciative way he looked at her, even the enthusiasm with which he ate the one thing she cooked well.

Pity help her, she had even enjoyed doing his cleaning and laundry.

For a couple of hours she had felt like a normal, functioning woman, she realized with a heavy heart. After the way Alexander had dumped her because she couldn’t have his children, it had felt good to be appreciated by a man, even one who didn’t really know her. In the guise of helping Nicholas out, she had been playing house, and now it had to stop.

“Thanks for your time. I’ll see myself out,” she said, picking up her bag. This time he didn’t try to stop her, and she was thankful the security door opened easily from the inside. She didn’t fancy having to retrace her steps past the kitchen and out through his bedroom. As she made her way slowly back to her car, which was parked in the shade of a golden wattle tree, she heard Maree start to cry. Bethany’s footsteps faltered but she made herself keep walking.

“Women. You can’t trust ‘em as far as you can throw ’em,” Nicholas seethed, hearing the sound of the security door swing shut. He aimed a kick at a cupboard door and winced as the pain jarred all the way up his leg. “Damn. I should have known she was up to something. Baby house, indeed. She probably thought all she had to do was cook a meal and wash my laundry, and I’d be putty in her hands. Well it didn’t work, did it, Maree? We told her where to get off, didn’t we?”

Hearing her name, the baby looked up, but at the sight of his furious expression, she screwed up her face and dissolved into tears and started banging a plastic cup disconsolately against the bars of her playpen, the sound keeping time with her wails.

Despair coiled through Nicholas. Now look what the wretched woman had done, he thought. She’d managed to upset the baby, just when he’d gotten her quiet and happy. He leaned over the side of the pen, reaching for the child. “Come here, little darling. Don’t cry. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at Bethany.”

At the sound of the name, Maree’s tear-filled eyes widened and she began to beat at Nicholas’s chest. “Ah, ah, ah,” she screamed, punctuating the sounds with blows.

He regarded the baby curiously. “Bethany? You’re telling me you like Bethany?”

Every time he said the name, there was a fresh gurgle of “ah, ah, ah” sounds.

He shook his head. “Trust me, we’re better off without her. Just because she happens to be damnably attractive—” He broke off as Bethany’s image filled his mind. She was attractive, he realized. He couldn’t recall seeing hair that exact shade of gold before, as if it was perpetually in sunlight. She had nice eyes, too, now he came to think about it. They reminded him of the sky on a summer day. Odd that all the comparisons he could think of related to sunshine.

Her voice was unusual, too, faintly musical and pitched in the lower register, which appealed to his trained ear. When she laughed he could hear wind chimes. He wouldn’t mind recording and analyzing her voice. He was willing to bet even the wavelengths would be picturesque.

“Not that I have any such intentions,” he told Maree severely, annoyed with himself for letting his thoughts run away with him. “The woman’s devious and manipulative. All her schmoozing with you was to get around me. She probably doesn’t even like babies.”

Even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true. All he had to do was compare Bethany’s behavior toward Maree with Lana’s. They were like chalk and cheese. Anything Lana did for Maree was on sufferance and she didn’t care who knew it. If she could have held the child at arm’s length like a piece of soiled clothing she would have done so. Bethany had shown no such aversion, even pitching in to do the laundry without a second thought.

Why hadn’t she simply told him what she wanted instead of sneaking around pretending to be a child care expert?

Because she was right—if she was honest she wouldn’t have gotten to first base with him because of his stupid hang-up about that blasted dollhouse. She couldn’t know why he was so averse to letting the thing see the light of day, and he was in no hurry to explain himself to her. It was probably foolish, but a man had a right to his own kinds of foolishness.

What he didn’t have a right to do was treat her as badly as he had. “You’re right,” he said to the baby in his arms. “What you and I have to do is apologize to Bethany for the way we acted. It’s the least we can do before she leaves.”

The baby bounced up and down in his grasp, grabbing and pulling at strands of his hair. “Ah, ah, ah.”

He gave a yelp of pain but got her message. “Okay, I have to apologize. You got along with her like a house on fire. Come on then, let’s go eat humble pie. But I should warn you, it tastes worse than pureed spinach.”

Bethany was fumbling in her bag for her car keys when the crunch of footsteps on the gravel surface of the driveway made her look up. Nicholas came toward her carrying Maree in his arms, and the baby’s face lit up at the sight of her new friend.

Bethany tried to harden her heart with little success. It was small consolation that she had won a convert in the Frakes family, when it wasn’t the one who could help her. She lifted her head and met Nicholas’s eyes with a defiance she was far from feeling. “Was there another insult you forgot to throw at me?”

He cleared his throat. “What I forgot, and this little lady reminded me, was simple human courtesy. Is it too late to say I’m sorry for acting so hotheaded?”

It was so unexpected that she was momentarily at a loss for words, which her siblings would have found amusing in the extreme. What she lacked in cooking ability she usually made up for in conversational skills. When she finally found her voice she felt bound to be honest. “I deserved some of what you said. You were right, I should have told you what I wanted from the beginning.”

“You probably should, but it doesn’t justify my biting your head off, even if I was tired to the bone.”

Against her better judgment Bethany responded to the sincerity in his tone and smiled back. “I know what it’s like. Considering how small they are, babies demand enormous amounts of time, attention and love. I can hardly criticize you for giving them to Maree.”

He frowned. “If this Baby House of yours isn’t about baby care, how come you know so much about them?”

“I have five brothers and sisters, four of them much younger than me, so I got a lot of practice at helping to bring them up. I’m also a casual worker at a shelter for disadvantaged children in Melbourne.”

He nodded as if she had confirmed something for him. Then he nuzzled the baby’s tiny pink ear. “You know, Maree, you are wise for one so young.” She gurgled a response and he pretended to listen with rapt attention before nodding again. “Good idea, little darling. Exactly what I was thinking myself.”

Baffled, Bethany observed the strange, one-sided conversation, bemused by the way Maree seemed to understand everything Nicholas was saying. Which was more than Bethany herself did. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, sorry. I was consulting my friend here about an idea we just had. Do you know you’re the first person besides me that Maree has taken to since her parents died?”

What about the lovely Lana, Bethany couldn’t help wondering, but decided to quit while she was ahead. Leaving on good terms with him had seemed impossible a few moments ago. She should be thankful for small mercies.

As if to prove his point, the baby leaned out of Nicholas’s embrace and stretched out her arms toward Bethany. “Ah, ah, ah.”

Bethany reacted instinctively, setting her bag on the roof of the car and reaching to take the child from Nicholas. “See what I mean?” he said as the baby wrapped her arms around Bethany’s neck.

The child smelled sweetly of milk and baby powder, and Bethany buried her face in the satiny folds of her neck, making trilling noises with her lips and tongue. The vibrations made Maree chuckle and the sound resonated through Bethany like music. How could anyone not take to such a delightful little creature? Gradually she became aware of Nicholas watching her with something very much like satisfaction. What was going on here?

Since he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to enlighten her, she gave Maree one last hug and forced herself to hand the child back, closing her ears to the chorus of protesting noises. “I’d better be on my way. Thanks for clearing the air.” She tickled Maree under the chin. “Goodbye little one. It was fun meeting you.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Nicholas startled her by saying.

Was he going to grant her the interview after all? She forced down a sudden rush of excitement. If he had changed his mind, it must be for his own reasons. Until she knew what they were, it was as well not to get her hopes up. She might not be willing to meet his terms.

“I don’t?” she echoed, knowing she sounded foolish but unable to think of a more profound response. Where was the outgoing, articulate Bethany Dale now? Tongue-tied by the nearness of a man she didn’t like, who certainly didn’t like her, but who could make her feel hot and breathless simply by standing within two feet of her.

Nicholas gave her a level look while Maree played with his hair. “If you still want that story, maybe we can work something out.”

A sinking feeling gripped her. Surely Nicholas Frakes wasn’t going to turn out to be one of those men who reduced everything to sexual favors?

She drew herself up, uncomfortably aware that she was trapped between her car and Nicholas’s hard body. But he was hampered by the baby in his arms. “I’m afraid I don’t need the interview that much,” she snapped.

For a half second he looked puzzled, then angry as light dawned. “Good grief, woman, this has nothing to do with your body. Just because Lana’s gone doesn’t mean I’m desperate yet.”

Contrarily, rather than reassuring her, his comment hurt more than she could believe possible. “Well thank you very much.”

Evidently realizing his mistake, he tried again. “I don’t mean I’d have to be desperate to be interested in you. You’re a beautiful woman, and from what I’ve seen today, you’re going to make some man incredibly happy. But this has nothing to do with you and me,” he insisted. “I want you to help me take care of Maree.”

This last came out in such a roar that the baby looked startled. It was nothing compared to the way Bethany felt. She had practically accused him of harassment when all he wanted was her parenting skills. He also thought she was beautiful, she couldn’t help noticing, and resisted examining how that felt. “You want me as a baby-sitter?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“In return for conditional access to the Frakes Baby House,” he confirmed. He raked one hand through his close-cropped hair. “What on earth did you think I was going to propose?”

If she hadn’t been so aware of him as a man, she probably wouldn’t have jumped to stupid conclusions, she told herself, wondering at the same time if there wasn’t an element of wishful thinking there, too. Did she want him to want her? Even though her mind produced an instant denial she suspected she wasn’t being entirely honest with herself.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s been a confusing day,” she dissembled. “One minute you can’t wait to get rid of me and the next you want to hire me on a daily basis.”

“Not daily, full-time, live-in, although I’m glad I didn’t suggest it right off the bat, or goodness knows what conclusions you’d have drawn.”

“There’s no need to rub it in,” she said, feeling her face flame. In case she still harbored doubts, he was emphasizing that he wasn’t interested in her as a woman, but purely as a potential caretaker for Maree. The thought stung, but she had only herself to blame for misinterpreting his first overture.

He watched her closely. “Interested?”

“I don’t know about living in,” she said. Most of her misgivings stemmed from her own reactions to Nicholas himself. He might not be interested in her, but she couldn’t deny the flaring of attraction she felt around him. Sharing close quarters with him amounted to playing with fire, and she’d already been burned by her relationship with Alexander. She didn’t need another lesson in her inadequacies as a woman.

Not that she’d get it from Nicholas. Was that what she really feared, that she could live under his roof without affecting him in the slightest, while he had the opposite effect on her?

“Before the accident, my brother and sister-in-law lived here and had set the place up as bed-and-breakfast accommodation. So, you would have your own self-contained quarters,” he went on. “You’d have to live in because it’s too far to commute from Melbourne every day. Besides which, my work involves clients all over the world, so I’m at the computer till all hours. With you here, I might finally manage to catch up on some sleep. As well as giving you access to the dollhouse, I’m prepared to pay well for your services.”

The salary he named would get her out of financial trouble for some time to come. Added to the appeal of a story about the long-lost Frakes Baby House, the package would enable her to clear her debts and bring her business back from the brink.

“It’s only until I can find someone to fill the job permanently,” he added when she hesitated. “Surely the children’s shelter can spare you for a time?”

“As a casual, I work whatever shifts I’m available, so leave isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is the problem?”

He was, she admitted inwardly. No man had ever excited her the way Nicholas did. From the moment she set eyes on him, her response had been instant and annoyingly physical. If she agreed to work for him would it get worse, or would familiarity end up breeding contempt? There was only one way to find out.

“Your offer does have its attractions,” she said with more irony than he could possibly know, “but we need to get a few things straight. First, I’d love to look after Maree but I’m not a housekeeper.”

“Not a problem,” he confirmed. “I’ll get someone to clean the house and take care of the laundry.”

“And I’m a terrible cook,” she confessed in a rush.

“But your omelette was the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“It’s the only thing of mine you’ll ever taste. In fact it’s the only thing I can cook. So if that disqualifies me for the job...”

“No, no,” he denied hastily. “Maree is my first concern and you have her approval, which is what matters. As it happens I’m a passable cook when I’m not so worn out, so we can alternate my dinners with your omelettes. Do we have a deal?”

It was probably the craziest thing she had ever done, but she found herself nodding. “We have a deal.”

Chapter Three

Sam Dale loaded another box into Bethany’s hatchback. “Are you sure you have enough stuff in here? I can tie the refrigerator to the back if you like.”

Bethany pulled a face at him. “Very funny. It only looks like a lot because it’s a small car. I didn’t pack too much because I’ll only be at Yarrawong until Nicholas Frakes finds someone compatible to take care of Maree permanently.”

“Compatible with whom?”

To her annoyance Bethany felt herself redden. “With the baby, of course. He isn’t the slightest bit interested in me, only in how well I get along with Maree.” How could he be interested in Bethany after being involved with a famous beauty like Lana Sinden?

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure he isn’t interested in you? Forgive my suspicious mind, and I’ll probably hate myself for admitting this, but you are an attractive female, even if you are my little sister. I don’t like the idea of you moving in with a virtual stranger.”

“I’m going to work for him, not move in with him, as you put it,” Bethany denied. Her brother’s compliment, instead of his usual merciless teasing, was a measure of his concern for her. She draped an arm around his shoulders, although she had to reach up a good eight inches to do so. “Relax, big brother. In the first place, twenty-five isn’t so little anymore. And in the second, when I called his professional organization, they acted as if I wanted a reference for God.”

Sam whirled her off her feet, then set her down again. “At least I’ve taught you some sense over the years. What does this guy do, anyway?”

She frowned, recalling what she had learned. “This guy as you call him is Dr. Nicholas Frakes, Ph.D., and he does consulting work in acoustical engineering for the government. I gather most of his work is classified, but it has something to do with measures to counteract military and industrial eavesdropping.”

Sam grinned. “So walls really do have ears these days?”

“So it seems. All you have to do is point the right laser gadget at a building to hear everything that’s going on inside.”

“Maybe I should hire one and park myself outside your new boss’s, property.”

She threw a beach towel at him. “Go wash your mind out with soap.”

Sam’s grin widened as he snatched the towel out of midair. “You’re attracted to the good doctor, aren’t you?”

“Of course not.” The denial sounded forced even to her own ears.

“Then why are you going to work for him. If it’s only the money there are lots of jobs you can do right here in Melbourne, without marooning yourself in the hills.”

Bethany had asked herself the same question many times in the few days since she accepted Nicholas’s proposition. Sam didn’t know how desperate she was for money right now, and she had no intention of telling him. He would bankrupt himself before letting her struggle, which was precisely why he couldn’t know the full extent of her problems. His fledgling furniture-making business was far from prosperous, and although she had no doubt it would be one day, for now he needed every cent of his capital to keep his own business afloat.

He was right, it wasn’t only money that attracted her to working for Nicholas Frakes. The salary he had offered would solve a lot of her problems, and being able to write about the Frakes Baby House was also a coup, but it still didn’t explain why she felt such a strong need to accept the job.

In Nicholas’s kitchen she had experienced a real sense of belonging, of being accepted without judgment—something her recent experience with Alexander Kouros had made her wonder if she would ever know again. She had been so sure she and Alexander had had a future, although now that she thought about it, his voluble, multigeneration family had always overwhelmed her a little. She was used to large families, but the sense of tradition pervading the Kouros household was stronger than anything in her own family.

Among the Dales, people were accepted on their own merits, innocent until proven guilty and even then cut a considerable amount of slack. Alexander’s father ruled his family with an iron hand, making it clear that Alexander, as the oldest son, would carry on the family’s catering business and most important of all, the family name.

In front of everyone, Stavros and Ellie, Alexander’s father and mother, had happily discussed their future daughter-in-law’s breeding potential. Bethany’s full hips, a source of annoyance to her for years, had pleased them as a sign that she could bear many strong, healthy sons.

It had never occurred to any of them that her hips were the only part of her suited to childbearing. Unknown to anyone including Bethany herself until she needed a checkup for a minor complaint, her ability to have children had been destroyed by the aftereffects of a ruptured appendix in her teens.

She had expected Alexander to be as devastated as she was, but she had also expected his love and support. When he learned that surgery offered her a less than thirty percent chance of removing the scar tissue, he had urged her to go ahead although she explained that the operation couldn’t guarantee she would ever be able to conceive.

She would never forget his disgusted expression when she had suggested fostering or adopting children as her own parents had done.

“They would not have Kouros blood,” he had said, unconsciously echoing his father’s arrogant tones. “It is not a viable alternative.” Then he had walked out.

She had accepted that it was over but hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. Finding out she would never have a baby of her own was bad enough, but Alexander’s rejection had made her feel like damaged goods. The pain still dragged at her, and she knew that her motive to accept Nicholas’s offer was as much for the chance to remind herself of all she still had to offer as it was to solve her financial worries.

Her reverie was interrupted by a shrill call from Bethany’s first-floor window. It was Amanda, Sam’s current girlfriend, who’d come along supposedly to help with the packing, but had spent most of the time drinking coffee and looking decorative. “Telephone for you, Beth. It’s Nick Frakes.”

Bethany gritted her teeth. “Coming.” To Sam, she said, “Can’t you convince Mandy that I hate being called Beth?” She enjoyed it about as much as she imagined Nicholas would like being referred to as Nick.

Sam shrugged. “I’ve told her but she forgets.”

“What does she call you?”

“What do you think? Samuel, of course.”

Maybe Nicholas had changed his mind about hiring her, Bethany thought as she took the stairs two at a time. Maybe Lana Sinden had returned and decided three would be a crowd. It was a surprisingly depressing idea. Bethany silenced the fruitless speculation with a frown. She would know the answer in another two seconds.

Amanda was waiting by the phone and didn’t move away when Bethany picked up the receiver. Cursing her brother’s taste in women, she turned her back slightly. “Hello, Nicholas?”

“Bethany, thank goodness. Maree’s been giving me a hard time ever since you left. I think it’s her way of letting me know she wants you back. How soon can you get here?”

Something caught deep in Bethany’s chest, and she pressed a hand between her breasts as if to calm the sudden leaping of her heart. Knowing he was only concerned because of the baby couldn’t dampen her instinctive excitement at hearing his voice.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.