Nothing could take the edge off of the way Jack was reacting to Zooey.

Just as he’d been afraid it wouldn’t.

He’d kept himself away from the house, from her, for most of the past ten days and it still didn’t negate or even blunt the attraction he felt toward her. If anything, it sharpened it. Zooey intrigued him, she amused him, she attracted him.

Any way he sliced it, Jack felt doomed.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it because he needed a nanny and the kids were wild about her. She seemed to be the only one who could keep them from being wild, period.

Doomed. Yep, that was about the size of it.

Dear Reader,

I always wanted to live on a cul-de-sac. I grew up in a New York apartment building where the tenants mostly kept to themselves and eye contact was only made on those occasions when you were stuck on an elevator together, something that happened with a fair amount of frequency. When I moved to the opposite coast, I discovered a friendlier breed of people (constant sun tends to mellow you out). And I wound up moving to a cul-de-sac when I got married. Sadly, I live on a block with nice, friendly, but definitely non-dramatic people. They’re nothing like the residents of Danbury Way, the stars of TALK OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD. A tantalizing potpourri of people can be found here. My two happen to be a harried single dad of two, who behave more like an army of five hundred, and a young woman who is trying to find her true niche in life. On the surface, Zooey and Jack find one another rather quickly, but it takes a while for their souls to make the same discovery—and turn it into a lasting one.

Come, take a peek, and watch them fall in love. It’s worth the wait.

As always, I wish you love,

Marie Ferrarella

Mother in Training
Marie Ferrarella

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MARIE FERRARELLA

This USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author has written over 150 books for Silhouette, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide.

To

Patience Smith,

the kind keeper

of my sanity.

Thank You

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

January

The short, squat man moved his considerable bulk between her and the front door, blocking her line of vision. The look on his round, florid face fairly shouted of exasperation.

“You know how a watched pot don’t boil?” he asked her. “Well, a watched door don’t open, neither. So stop watching the door and start doing somethin’ to earn the money I’m paying you, Zoo-ie.”

Zooey Finnegan grimaced inside. Milo Hanes, the owner of the small Upstate New York coffee shop where she currently clocked in each morning in order to draw a paycheck, seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure mispronouncing her name.

Most likely, she thought cynically, it was a holdover from his days as the schoolyard bully.

That was okay, she consoled herself. It wasn’t as if waitressing at the coffee shop was her life’s ambition. She was just passing through. Just as she’d passed through a handful of other jobs, trying them on for size, searching for something that would arouse a passion within her, or at least awaken some heretofore dormant potential.

Her parents had been certain that her life’s passion would be the family furniture business. As the firstborn, she’d been groomed for that ever since she was old enough to clutch a briefcase. They and her uncle Andrew had sent her off to college to get a business degree, and after that, an MBA.

The only problem was, Zooey had no desire to acquire a degree—not in business, at any rate.

Her family had made their money designing and selling stylish, affordable furniture. What had once been a small, single-store operation had branched out over the years to include several outlets, both in state and out. Proud as she was of their accomplishments, Zooey couldn’t picture herself as a company executive, or a buyer for the firm, or even a salesperson in one of their seven showrooms. As far as she was concerned, Finnegan’s Fine Furniture was going to have to remain fine without her.

She loved her parents, but she refused to be browbeaten by them into living a life of not-so-quiet desperation. Stating as much had led to “discussions,” which led to arguments that indirectly resulted in her breaking up with Connor Taylor. Her parents felt he was the perfect man for her, being two years older and dedicated to business. What he was perfect for, it turned out, was the company. He’d upbraided Zooey when she’d told him her plans, saying she was crazy to walk away from such a future.

That was when she’d realized Connor was in their relationship strictly for the money, not out of any all-consuming love for her. If it had been the latter, she’d informed him, he would have been willing to hike into the forests of Oregon and subsist on berries and grubs with her. Declaring that she wanted to be mistress of her own destiny, she’d had a huge fight with everyone involved—her parents, her uncle and Connor. When her parents threatened to cut off her funds, she’d done them one better. She’d cut them off and left to find her own way in the world.

So far, her “way” had led her to take up dog walking, to endure a very short stint as a courier, and now waitressing. None of the above proved to be very satisfying or fulfilling. As a dog walker, she’d managed to lose one of her charges. As a courier she’d gotten lost three times in two days, and her first week’s pay as a waitress went to repay Milo for several cups and saucers she’d broken when she’d accidentally tilted her tray.

A lesser woman might have given up and gone home, but Zooey had her pride—and very little else. Cut off from the family and the family money, she was running out of options as well as cash. The rent on her closetlike apartment was due soon, and as of right now, she was still more than a hundred dollars short.

She supposed she should have been worried, but she wasn’t. Zooey was, first and foremost, a diehard, almost terminal, optimist. She refused to be beaten down by circumstances, or a scowling boss who could have doubled as a troll in one of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

Something would come along, she promised herself. After all, she just didn’t have the complexion to be a homeless person.

In the meantime, she still had a job, she reminded herself.

Offering Milo a spasmodic smile, she went back to mechanically filling the sugar containers on each of the small tables and booths scattered throughout the coffee shop. As she worked, Zooey tried not to look toward the door. Or at least, not to appear as if she was looking toward the door.

He was late.

Rubbing away a sticky spot on the table with the damp towel she had hanging from her belt, Zooey couldn’t help wondering if anything was wrong.

Jack Lever, the drop-dead-gorgeous blond criminal lawyer who came in every morning for coffee and a blueberry muffin—and secretly lit her fire—hadn’t turned up yet. It wasn’t like him.

She’d met Jack her first day on the job. He’d been sitting at her station, with an expression that indicated he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Being of the opinion that everyone could use a little friendly chatter and, at times, a shoulder to lean on, she’d struck up a conversation with him.

Or, more accurately, a monologue. She’d talked and he’d listened. Or appeared to. After about a week of relative silence on his part, Jack finally offered more than single-word responses to her questions.

Given something to work with, she let her questions grow lengthier and progressively more personal than just inquiries about how he liked the weather, the Mets, his muffin. Week number two had actually seen the beginnings of a smile on his lips. That was when her heart had fluttered for the first time. That was also when she’d almost spilled coffee on his lap instead of into his cup.

She began to look forward to Jack’s daily stops at the shop. A couple of times, he put in more than one appearance, dropping by around lunchtime the two days he was in the area because of a case. The county courthouse was only two blocks away.

He was a creature of habit as much as she was a free spirit. And he always, always came into the shop around the same time. Eight-thirty. It was almost nine now.

“Maybe Mr. Big Shot’s cheating on you with another coffee shop,” Milo said, chuckling into his two chins as he changed the industrial-size filter for the large steel coffee urn. Steam hissed, sending up a cloud of vapor as he removed the old filter.

Milo had caught her looking again, she realized, averting her eyes from the door and back to the sugar container in her hand. Zooey shrugged, her thin shoulders moving beneath the stiff, scratchy white cotton uniform. It chafed her neck a little.

She saw no point in pretending she didn’t know what her boss was talking about. “Maybe he took a vacation day.”

“Or maybe his wife did,” Milo commented.

Zooey was about to tell the man that Jack was a widower. It was the latest bit of personal information he’d shared with her. Eighteen months ago, his wife had been killed in a hit-and-run car accident, leaving him with two small children to raise: a girl, Emily, who was about seven now, and a little boy, Jack Jr., still in diapers. The boy was almost two.

But the information never reached her lips. Milo was nodding toward the door.

Zooey turned around in time to see Jack Lever walking in. He was herding a little girl before him, while holding tightly on to a boy who looked as if he was ready to explode in three different directions at once. Jack was also trying to hang on to his briefcase.

Zooey’s heart went out to him immediately. The man was obviously struggling, and while she would have bet even money that Jack Lever was a formidable opponent on the courtroom floor, he looked as if he was in over his head at the moment.

Kids did that to you, she thought. She had a younger brother who’d been a pistol when he was around Jack Jr.’s age.

Abandoning the sugar dispenser, Zooey made her way over to Jack and his lively crew. She flashed her brightest smile at him, the one her father had once said could melt the frown off Satan.

“Hi. Table for three?” she asked, her glance sweeping over the two children before returning to Jack.

“More like a cage for two,” he murmured wearily under his breath.

Zooey’s eyes met his. He would have looked more refreshed wrestling alligators. “Tough morning?”

He gazed at her as if he thought she had a gift for severe understatement. “You might say that.” Jackie tried to dart under a table, but Jack held fast, pulling him back. “My nanny quit.”

“You don’t have a nanny, Daddy.” Emily giggled shyly, covering her small, pink mouth with both hands.

The sigh that escaped his lips measured 5.1 on the Richter scale. “And as of seven this morning, neither do you.”

Zooey deliberately led the three to a booth, feeling that the enclosed space might make it easier for Jack to restrict the movements of his children. Just before she turned to indicate that they should take a seat, she grabbed hold of two booster seats stacked in the corner and slid one on each side of the table. Then, because Jack seemed to be having more trouble with the boy, she took him by the waist and lifted him in the air.

“Up you go, young man.”

Because she added a little bounce to the descent, Jack Jr. laughed gleefully, his eyes lighting up. He clapped his hands together. “Again,” he cried.

Zooey winked at him, leaning over to make sure that he was securely seated. “Maybe when you leave.”

The little girl was tugging on the short apron Zooey wore. When she looked at her quizzically, Emily said shyly, “You’re pretty.”

Straightening, Zooey beamed. “Well, thank you, honey.”

The smile on Emily’s lips faded just a little as sadness set in. “My mommy was pretty, too,” she added quietly.

Poor baby, Zooey couldn’t help thinking. She deliberately avoided looking at Jack, feeling that the moment had to be awkward for him.

“She would have had to have been,” Zooey told her, running a hand over the girl’s vivid blond hair. “Because you are.”

Jack saw his daughter all but sparkle in response.

It suddenly hit him. For the first time since they’d opened their eyes this morning, his children were quiet. Both of them. At the same time.

Stunned, he looked at the young woman he’d been exchanging conversation with for the last six weeks, seeing her in a brand-new light. That of a sorceress. “How did you do that?”

Looking up from the children, Zooey smiled at him beatifically. “Do what?”

“Get them to quiet down like that. They’ve been making noise nonstop all morning.” Even Emily, whom he could usually count on to behave herself in his company, had been more than a handful today. When it rained…

The waitress’s green eyes were smiling as she looked at the two children again. “Maybe they’re just worn-out,” she suggested modestly.

The truth of it was she had a way with kids. She always had, having gotten her training early in life while learning to keep her brothers and sisters in line. The fact that it had resembled more of a conga line than anything drawn using a straight edge was the secret of her success.

Zooey raised her eyes to Jack’s. He was, after all, the customer. And undoubtedly running late. “The usual?” she asked.

It took him a second to get his mind in gear. And then he nodded. “Yes, sure.”

Emily cocked her head, trying to understand. “What’s the usual, Daddy?”

“Coffee and a blueberry muffin,” Zooey answered before he had the chance. The little girl made a face. Zooey laughed. “How does hot chocolate with marshmallows bobbing up and down sound to you?”

The grimace vanished instantly, replaced by a wide grin. “Good!” Emily enthused.

“Messy,” Jack countered.

“The nice thing about messy,” Zooey told him, giving the towel hooked on her belt a tug, “is it can always be cleaned up.” And then she looked from one child to the other. “But you guys aren’t going to be messy, are you?”

Emily shook her head solemnly from side to side. Watching her, Jack Jr. imitated the movement.

Zooey nodded, trying hard to match the children’s solemnity. “I didn’t think so. By the way, my name’s Zooey.” She held her hand out to Emily.

The little girl stared at it, stunned, before finally putting her own hand into it. “Emily,” she said with the kind of pride and awe a child felt when she suddenly realized she was being treated like an adult.

“Jackie,” the little boy announced loudly, sticking his hand out as if he was gleefully poking a snake with a stick.

Zooey shook the little boy’s hand and never let on that the simple gesture made her own hand sticky. Without missing a beat, she took her towel and wiped off his fingers.

“Pleased to meet you, Jackie. You, too, Emily. I’ll be right back with your hot chocolates,” she promised, backing away. “And the usual,” she added, looking at Jack before she turned on her heel to hurry to the kitchen.

Jack leaned back in the booth, blowing out a long breath. Trying to get his bearings. And focus.

He didn’t often believe in miracles. Actually, he didn’t believe in them at all. They weren’t real and, contrary to popular belief, they just didn’t happen. Miracles belonged in legends, something for the desperate to cling to in times of strife.

And then he smiled to himself at the irony of it. God knew he certainly fit the desperate criteria today. More so than usual.

At exactly five minutes after seven this morning, just as he was preparing to call her to ask why she was running late, the children’s latest nanny had called to tell him that she wasn’t coming back. Ever. And then she’d hung up.

He could only assume that the soured old woman had spent the night mulling over this declaration of abandonment, brought on by the disagreement they’d had yesterday evening regarding her strict treatment of the children. Emily had tearfully told him she’d been punished that morning because she’d accidentally spilled her glass of milk at the table. Since there wasn’t a single truly willful bone in the little girl’s petite body, he knew Emily hadn’t done it on purpose.

But apparently Agnes Phillips did not tolerate anything less than perfection. This wasn’t the first time she and Jack had locked horns over her uptight behavior. He’d taken her to task on at least two other occasions. And she’d only been in his employ a little over two months.

Obviously, the third time was not the charm, he thought cynically. He’d been planning on replacing the woman as soon as he could get around to it. Agnes had undoubtedly sensed it and, reject from a military camp though she was, had beaten him to the punch by calling up and quitting.

Leaving him in a hell of a bind.

He felt like a man in the middle of the ocean, trying to survive by clinging to a life raft that had just sprung a leak.

Jack had a case due in court today and he didn’t think that Alice, the receptionist at his law firm, was going to be overly thrilled about his need to turn her into a babysitter for a few hours.

But observing the way both his children seemed to light up the moment the young waitress returned with their hot chocolates gave him food for thought.

“Zooey?”

She placed his coffee and muffin down on the table and very carefully pushed the plate before him. She raised her eyes to his, wishing she could clear her throat, hoping she wouldn’t sound as if something had just fluttered around her navel at the sound of his deep voice saying her name. “Hmm?”

He leaned forward across the table, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’d like to offer you a bribe.”

“Excuse me?” Zooey withdrew the tray from its resting spot on the table and held it to her like a bulletproof shield that could protect her from everything, including handsome lawyers with drop-dead-gorgeous brown eyes.

“Maybe I’d better backtrack.”

“Maybe,” she agreed firmly.

He slanted a glance at his children. Jackie was already wearing a hot chocolate mustache on his cheeks. “Look, I told you their nanny quit this morning.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Zooey saw several other customers come through the door and take seats. She knew that she should be easing away from Jack, turning a deaf ear to his problems. But the kids looked as if they were about to drive him over the edge.

Jack delivered the final, hopefully winning, salvo. “And I’m due in court today.”

More customers came in. Zooey caught the eye of Debi, the other waitress, mouthing, “Can you get those tables?”

“And there’s no room for short assistants?” she asked out loud, turning back toward Jack.

He didn’t crack a smile at her comment. “None.”

Zooey paused, thinking. But it was a foregone conclusion as to what she’d come up with: nothing. “I’d like to help you out,” she told him apologetically, “but I don’t know of anybody who could watch them.”

He hadn’t wanted a substitute. “I was thinking of you.”

“Me?” She glanced toward Milo. He was behind the counter, pretending not to listen. She knew better. The man had ears like a bat on steroids. “I’ve already got a job. Such as it is,” she couldn’t help adding.

Her lack of enthusiasm about her job was all the encouragement Jack needed. “I’ll pay you double whatever he’s giving you.”

That still didn’t amount to all that much, she thought. But this really wasn’t about money. It was about time. “Double? I don’t th—”

“Okay.” He cut in, not letting her finish. “Triple. I’m a desperate man, Zooey.”

And gorgeous. Don’t forget gorgeous, she added silently. And triple her pay would go a long way toward helping her with her bills.

Jack could see that he had her. All he needed was to reel her in. “It’d only be for the day,” he assured her. “You could take them to the park, the mall, wherever—”

Something suddenly hit her. She put her hand up to stop him before he could get any further.

“Mr. Lever. Jack. You’re talking about leaving your kids with me. Your children,” she emphasized. “And you don’t even know me.” What kind of a father did that make him—besides desperate?

He knew all he really needed to know about the young woman, he thought. It wasn’t as if she had kept to herself. She’d been open and forthright even when all he’d wanted with his coffee and muffin was a side order of silence.

“We’ve talked for six weeks.” He picked another point at random. “And I know you like jazz. And,” he added, his voice growing in authority, “you’re conscientious enough to point out that I don’t know you.”

A smile crept over her lips, even as she stooped to pick up the spoon Jackie had dropped. “Isn’t that like a catch-22?”

Jack nodded. “And you’re intelligent,” he added, then played his ace. “And I’m desperate.”

Zooey couldn’t help the laugh that rose to her lips. “Intelligent and Desperate. Sounds like a law firm in an Abbott and Costello routine.”

Jack looked mildly surprised. He didn’t expect a twenty-something woman to be even remotely familiar with the comedy duo from the forties and fifties. “Anyone who knows things like that is above reproach,” he told her.

He didn’t need to flatter her, Zooey thought. The man had her at “hello.”

“Okay, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to need some information,” she told him, mentally rolling up her sleeves. “Like where you work, where you live, how to reach you in case of an emergency, where and when to meet you so that you can take your children home….”

She was thorough; he liked that. She was asking all the right questions, questions he would have given her the answers to even if they’d been unspoken. “I knew I wasn’t wrong about you.”

“The day is young,” she deadpanned. Then, because she’d never been able to keep a straight face for long, she grinned. “Just give me a few minutes to clear it with my boss.”

Jack was aware of every second ticking by as he automatically glanced at his watch.

“I’ll make it fast,” she promised, already backing away from the table.

“I like her, Daddy,” Emily told him in a stage whisper that would have carried to the last row in Carnegie Hall.

“Lucky for us, she feels the same way,” he told his daughter.

Zooey returned to their table faster than he’d anticipated. Jack rose to his feet, scanning her face. Looking for an unspoken apology. To his relief, there was none.

“All set,” she announced.

He glanced toward the counter. The man behind it was scowling and sending him what could only be referred to as a dark look. “Your boss is all right with this?”

“He’s fine with this,” she replied. Jack noticed she was carrying her jacket and that she was now slipping it on. “He doesn’t care what I do.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. And then it hit him. “He fired you.”

Zooey shrugged dismissively. She wasn’t going to miss the itchy uniform. “Something like that.”

Jack hadn’t meant for this to happen. “Look, I’m sorry. Let me talk to him.”

But Zooey shook her head. “You’re running late, and besides, I was thinking of leaving soon, anyway. This is just a little sooner than I’d originally planned,” she admitted. And then she smiled down at the two eager faces turned to her. The children had been following every word, trying to understand what was going on. “You two ready to have fun?”

Chapter Two

The last word Jack Lever would use to describe himself was impulsive.

It just wasn’t his nature.

He was thorough, deliberate and didactic. Born to be a lawyer, he always found himself examining a thing from all sides before taking any action on it.

It was one of the traits, he knew, that used to drive his wife, Patricia, crazy. She’d complain about his “stodgy” nature, saying she wanted them to be spontaneous. But he had always demurred, saying that he’d seen too many unforeseen consequences of random, impetuous actions to ever fall prey to that himself.

It was, he thought, just one of the many stalemates they’d found themselves facing. Stalemates that had brought them to the brink of divorce just before she was killed.

However, he thought as he slipped case notes into his briefcase, this was an emergency. Emergencies called for drastic measures. Tomorrow was going to be here before he knew it. Tomorrow with no nanny, with Emily needing to be dressed and taken to school, and Jackie still a perpetual challenge to one and all.

Walking out into the hall, Jack made his way to the elevator and pushed the down button. He needed a sitter, a nanny. A person with extreme patience and endless fortitude.

The express elevator arrived and he got on, stepping to the rear.

Desperate though he was, it seemed that fate—the same fate that had sent him three ultimately unsatisfactory nannies, one worse than the other—had decided to finally toss him a bone.

Or, in this case, a supernanny.

So when he stepped out of the fifteen-story building where the firm of Wasserman, Kendall, Lake & Lever was housed, and saw Zooey sitting on the stone rim of the fountain before the building, one child on either side of her and none looking damaged or even the worse for wear, Jack decided to go with his instincts. And for once in his life, do something impulsive.

The moment she saw Jack exiting the building, Zooey rose to her feet.

“Daddy’s here,” she told the children. A fresh burst of energy sent Jackie and Emily running madly toward their father.

Jackie reached him first, wrapping his small arms around his father’s leg as high as they would reach. “Hi, Daddy!” he crowed. For a little boy, he was capable of a great deal of volume.

“Hi, Daddy.” Emily’s greeting was quieter, but enthusiastic nonetheless.

He’d dropped his briefcase to the ground half a beat before Jackie and Emily surrounded him. “Hi, yourselves,” he said, wrapping an arm around each child.

Jack did like being a father. He just had no idea how to exercise small-person control.

Finding himself in a large conference room with a collection of the state’s greater legal minds, or in a tiny briefing area with a known hardened criminal, Jack knew how to handle himself. Knew how to maintain control so that the situation never threatened to get away from him.

But when it came to dealing with the under-fifteen set, especially with small beings who barely came up to his belt buckle, he was at a complete loss as to what to do.

Not so Zooey, he thought. Being with the children seemed to be right up her alley. As a matter of fact, she appeared to be as fresh as she always was when he walked into the coffee shop each morning.

He had no idea how she did it. His children had worn out three nannies in the last eighteen months, and seemed destined to wear out more.

Unless his instincts were right.

Slipping his arms free, he nodded at the short duo. “Did they give you any trouble?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Zooey looked at him, wide-eyed. “Trouble? No!” she replied with feeling.

The way her green eyes sparkled as she voiced the denial told Jack that today had not been a boring one by any means.

Though he didn’t spend all that much time with them, he knew his kids, knew what they were capable of once they were up and running.

“Should I be writing out a check to anyone for damages they or their property sustained?”

She grinned. “You really do sound like a lawyer. No, no checks. No damages. Emily and Jackie were both very good.”

He stared at her. The trip to the parking structure that faced his office building and presently contained his car was temporarily aborted. “You sure you’re talking about my kids?”

She laughed, and it was a deep, full-volume one. “I am sure,” she assured him. “We went to the park, then saw that new movie, Ponies on Parade, had a quick, late lunch and here we are.”

Ponies on Parade. He vaguely remembered promising Emily to take her to that one. He guessed he was off the hook now. And damn grateful for it. He looked at Zooey with awe and respect. “You make it sound easy.”

“It was, for the most part.”

Zooey thought it best to leave out the part that while she was taking Emily to the ladies’ room, with Jackie in tow, the latter had gotten loose and scooted out from under the stall door. He’d managed, in the time it had taken her to leave Emily and go after him, to stuff up a toilet with an entire roll of toilet paper he’d tossed in and flushed.

Moving fast, Zooey had barely managed to snatch him away before the overflowing water had reached him.

Jack had always been very good at picking up nuances. He studied her now. “Something I should know about?”

The man had enough to deal with in his life, Zooey thought. He didn’t need someone “telling” on Jackie. “Only that they’re great kids.”

“Great kids,” Jack echoed, ready to bet his bottom dollar that that wasn’t what had been on her mind at all.

But, when he came right down to it, he knew Emily and Jackie were that. Great kids.

They were also Mischievous with a capital M. Kids who somehow managed to get into more trouble than he could remember getting into throughout his entire childhood.

Reflecting back, Jack had to admit that he’d been a solemn youngster—an only child whose father had died when he was very young. For years, Jack had thought that it had somehow been his fault, that if he’d been a better person, a better son, his father would have lived.

His stepfather did nothing to repair the hole that doubt had burrowed into his soul. He was never around during Jack’s childhood. He’d been, and still was, a terminal workaholic, laboring to provide a more than comfortable lifestyle for Jack’s mother, a woman who absolutely worshipped money and everything it could buy. Growing up, Jack supposed it could be said that he’d had the best childhood money could buy.

Everything but attention and the sense that he was truly loved.

He studied Zooey’s expression now. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” Why would he think anything else? she wondered. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Truth was something she had the utmost respect for. Because once lost, it couldn’t be easily won back. Like with Connor, she thought, then dismissed it. No point in wasting time there.

About to grasp Jackie’s hand to help lead him across the street to the parking structure, Zooey saw that the little boy had both arms raised to her, a silent indication that he wanted to be carried. She scooped him up without missing a beat.

Holding him to her, she glanced toward Jack. “Nothing worse than lying as far as I’m concerned.” She would have expected that, as a lawyer, he should feel the same way. But then, she’d always been rather altruistic and naive when it came to having faith in people, she reminded herself.

Holding Emily’s hand, Jack waited beside Zooey for the light to turn green. He read between the lines. “Somebody lie to you, Zooey?”

Connor, when he said he loved me, and all the while he was in love with the family business. And the family money. She wasn’t about to share that with Jack no matter how cute his kids were.

Instead, she shrugged her shoulders. “No one worth mentioning.”

The slight movement reminded her that the uniform she had on still chafed. She hadn’t had a chance to go home and change before taking on the task of entertaining Jack’s children.

One movement led to another, and it was all she could do to keep from scratching. “I guess I’d better get out of this uniform and give it back to Milo.”

The light turned green and they hurried across the street.

Reaching the other side, Jack glanced at her. “So, you really are fired?”

Zooey nodded.

In his estimation, she didn’t look too distressed about it. Which he couldn’t begin to fathom. From what she’d told him, he knew that Zooey lived by herself and didn’t have much in the way of funds to fall back on. If it had been him, he would have been sweating bullets. But then, if it had been him, he wouldn’t have been in that position to begin with.

Jack was nothing if not pragmatic. “What are you going to do for money?”

“I guess I’m going to have to hunt around for another job.” She looked up at him brightly, tongue-in-cheek. “Know someone who wants to hire a go-getter who makes up in enthusiasm what she lacks in experience?”

He surprised her by answering seriously. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Zooey had asked the question as a joke, but now that he’d answered her so positively, she was suddenly eager. This meant no hassles, no scanning newspapers and the Internet. No going from store to store in hopes that they were hiring.

It was nice to have things simple for a change.

“Who?”

And this was where Jack allowed himself to be impulsive. “Me.”

The parking garage elevator arrived and they got on. Zooey stared at him, dumbfounded. “You?”

He nodded, wondering if she was going to turn him down, after all. Until this moment, he hadn’t considered that option.

“I need a nanny.” He heard Emily giggling again. “The kids need a nanny,” he corrected. “And you need a job. Seeing as how you got fired doing me a favor, the least I can do is hire you.” He paused, then added the required coda. “If you want the job.” The last thing he wanted was for her to feel that he was trying to railroad her, or pressure her into agreeing. He might be desperate, but she had to want to do this.

Zooey narrowed her eyes, trying to absorb what he was saying. He’d always struck her as being a cautious man, someone who believed in belts and suspenders. Normally, she found that a turnoff. But there was something about Jack Lever, not to mention his looks, that negated all that.

“You’ll pay me to watch your kids?”

“It’s a little more complex than that, but yes.”

Zooey looked at him guilelessly. “Sure.”

He really hadn’t expected such a quick response from her. All the women he’d previously interviewed for the job had told him they would have to think about it when he made an offer. And they’d wanted to know what benefits would be coming to them. Zooey seemed to be the last word in spontaneity. Patricia would have loved her.

“You don’t want to think about it?”

Zooey waved her hand dismissively. “Thinking only clutters things up.” And then she hesitated slightly. “One thing, though.”

Conditions. She was going to cite conditions, he thought. Jack braced himself. “Yes?”

A slight flush entered her cheeks. She looked at him uncomfortably. “Could you give me an advance on my salary?” He gazed at her quizzically, compelling her to explain the reason behind the request. “I sort of owe a couple of months back rent and the landlord is threatening me with eviction.”

From out of nowhere, another impulsive thought came to Jack. He supposed that once the gates were unlocked, it seemed easier for the next idea to make its way through.

He refrained from asking her the important question outright, preferring to build up to it. “Do you like where you live?”

The elevator had reached the fourth level. Zooey got out behind Jack and Emily. A sea of cars were parked here.

Like was the wrong word, she thought, reflecting on his question. She didn’t like the apartment, she made do with it. Because she had to.

“It’s all I can afford right now,” she admitted. “More than I can afford,” she corrected, thinking of the amount she was in arrears. A whimsical smile played on her lips as she added, “But that’ll change.”

Did she have a plan, or was that just one of those optimistic, throwaway lines he knew even now she was prone to? “It can change right now if you’d like.”

Zooey’s smile faded just a tad as she looked at him. A tiny bit of wariness appeared. She was not a suspicious person by nature—far from it. For the most part, she was willing to take things at face value and roll with the punches.

But she was also not reckless, no matter what her father had accused her of that last day when they’d had their big argument, just before she’d taken her things and walked out, severing family ties as cavalierly as if they were fashioned out of paper ribbons.

“How?” she asked now.

“You can move in with me. With us,” Jack quickly corrected, in case she was getting the wrong idea. “As a nanny.” He moved Emily forward to underscore his meaning. “There’s a guest room downstairs with its own bath and sitting area. From what you mentioned, it’s larger than your apartment.”

She rolled his words over in her head. It wasn’t that she minded jumping into things. She just minded jumping into the wrong things.

But this didn’t have that feel to it.

Zooey inclined her head. “That way I could be on call twenty-four–seven.”

“Yes.” And then he realized that might be the deal breaker. “No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean—”

Zooey couldn’t help the grin that rose to her lips. Here he was, a high-priced criminal lawyer, actually tripping over his tongue. Probably a whole new experience for him.

He looked rather sweet when he was flustered, she thought.

She was quick to put him out of his misery. “That’s all right, Jack. I don’t mind being on call twenty-four–seven. That makes me more like part of the family instead of the hired help.”

Jack wasn’t all that sure he wanted to convey that kind of message to Zooey. Right now, he had all the family he could handle. More, really, he thought, glancing at the deceptively peaceful-looking boy she held in her arms.

But as Jack opened his mouth to correct the mistaken impression, something cautioned him not to say anything that might put her off. He was, after all, in a rather desperate situation, and he wanted this young woman—the woman his children had taken to like catnip—to accept the job he was offering her. At least temporarily.

If things wound up not working out, at the very least he was buying himself some time to find another suitable candidate for the job. And if things did work out, well, so much the better. There was little he hated more than having to sit there, interviewing a parade of nannies and trying to ascertain whether or not they were dependable. So far, every one he’d hired had turned out to be all wrong for his children. Neither Emily nor Jackie ever liked who he wound up picking.

This was the first time they had approved.

And he had a gut feeling about Zooey. He had no idea why, but he did. She was the right one for the job.

Emily was becoming impatient, tugging on his hand. He pretended not to notice. His attention was focused on Zooey. “So does that mean you’ll take the job?”

She wasn’t attempting to play coy, she just wanted him to know the facts. “Seems like neither one of us has much choice in the matter right now, Jack. You’ve got your back against the wall and so do I.”

She smiled down at Emily. The little girl seemed to be hanging on every word. In a way, Emily reminded Zooey of herself at that age. As the oldest, she’d been privy to her parents’ adult world in a way none of her siblings ever had. There was no doubt in her mind that Emily understood what was going on to a far greater extent than her father thought she did.

Zooey winked at the little girl before looking up at Jack. “Lucky for both of us I enjoy kids.”

As a rule, Jack liked having all his i’s dotted and his t’s crossed. She still hadn’t actually given him an answer. “Then you’ll take the job?”

He was a little anal, she thought. But that was all right. As a father, he was entitled to be, she supposed. “Yes, I’ll take it.” And then she looked at him, a whimsical smile playing on her lips. “By the way, how much does the job pay?”

She was being cavalier, he thought. Her attitude about money might have been why she’d found herself in financial straits to begin with. He was annoyed with himself for not having told her the amount right up front. He told her now, then added, “According to the last nanny, that’s not nearly enough.”

Zooey did a quick calculation in her head, coming up with the per hour salary. She had always had a gift for math, which was why her father had been so certain that getting an MBA was what she was meant to do. Zooey liked numbers, but had no desire to do anything with them. The love affair ended right where it began, at the starting gate.

Jack was going to be paying her more than twice what she’d gotten at her highest-paying job so far. She wondered if that was the going rate, or just a sign of his desperation.

“That should have been your first clue,” she told him glibly.

He didn’t quite follow her. “Clue?”

“That the woman was all wrong for the job.” Still holding the sleeping Jackie, she ran a hand over Emily’s hair. Zooey was rewarded with sheer love shining in the girl’s eyes. “Nobody takes this kind of job to get rich,” she informed him, “even at the rates you’re paying. They do it because they love kids. Or at least, they should.”

Reaching his car, Jack dug into his pocket for his keys. Once he had unlocked the vehicle, Zooey placed the sleeping boy in his arms.

This time, Jackie began to wake up, much to his father’s distress. The ride to his Upstate New York home wasn’t long, but a fussing child could make it seem endless.

“You’re leaving?” Even as he asked her, he was hoping she’d say no.

But she nodded. When she saw the distress intensify, she told him, “Well, I do have to get my things from my place.”

But Jack wasn’t willing to give up so easily. “Why don’t you come home with us tonight, and then I’ll help you officially move out on the weekend?”

Zooey raised her auburn eyebrows and grinned. “What’s the matter, Jack, afraid I won’t come back?”

“No,” he told her adamantly. And then, remembering her comment about the truth, admitted, “Well, maybe just a little.” Once the words were out, he was surprised by his own admission. “You know, what with time to think and all.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” she assured him. “This is the best offer I’ve had since I left college.”

He noticed that she’d said “left” rather than “graduated.” He wondered if lack of funds had been responsible for her not getting a degree. If she worked out, he might be tempted to help her complete her education, he decided. That would definitely get her to remain.

“Give me your home address, Jack. And your home phone number,” Zooey added. “Just in case I get lost.” Her eyelid fluttered in a quick wink. “I’ll be at your house bright and early tomorrow morning, I promise. By the way, when is bright and early for you?”

“Six-thirty.”

“Ouch.” At that hour, she’d be more early than bright, she thought. “Okay, six-thirty it is.”

Setting Jackie in his car seat, Jack wrote out his address and number. Reluctantly. Wondering, as he gave her the piece of paper and a check for the advance she’d asked for earlier, if he was ever going to see her again.

Chapter Three

October

Zooey could still remember, months later and comfortably absorbed into the general routine of the Lever household, the expression of relief on Jack’s handsome face that first morning she’d arrived on his doorstep. She’d had her most important worldly possessions stuffed into the small vehicle, laughingly referred to as a car, that was parked at his curb.

Funny how a little bit of hair coloring could throw a normally observant man for a loop. When she’d taken the job at the coffee shop, she’d been at the tail end of her experimental stage. Auburn had been the last color in a brigade of shades that had included, at one point, pink, and several others that were more likely to be found in a child’s crayon box than in a fashion magazine.

Going back to her own natural color had seemed right as she opted to assume the responsibility of caring for a high-powered lawyer’s children.

It was the last thing she’d done in her tiny apartment before she turned out the lights for the last time.

It had certainly seemed worth it the next morning as she watched the different expressions take their turn on Jack’s chiseled face.

Finally, undoubtedly realizing that he’d just been standing there, he had said, “Zooey?” as if he were only seventy-five percent certain that he recognized her.

She’d drawn out the moment as long as she could, then asked, “Job still available?”

“Zooey,” he repeated, this time with relief and conviction. A second later, he moved back, opening the door wider.

She had only to step over the threshold before she heard a chorus of, “Yay! Zooey’s here.” And then both children, Jackie in a sagging diaper and Emily with only one sock and shoe on, an undone ribbon trailing after her like the tail of a kite, came rushing out to greet her.

Jack had continued staring at her. “Why’d you dye your hair?” he finally asked.

“I didn’t,” she’d replied, laughing as two sets of arms found her waist, or at least made it to the general vicinity. Neither child seemed the slightest bit confused by the fact that she had golden-blond hair instead of auburn. “I undyed it.” Raising her eyes from the circle of love around her, she’d looked at him. “It just seemed like the thing to do, that’s all.” She couldn’t explain it to him any better than that. “This is my natural hair color.”

Jack had nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if the change in color was a serious matter that required consideration before comment.

And then he’d said something unexpected. And very nice. “I like it.” It was the first personal comment he had addressed to her.

Hard to believe, she thought now, as she threw on cutoff jeans beneath the football jersey she always wore to bed and slipped her bare feet into sandals, that nearly ten whole months had gone by since then. Ten months in which she’d discovered that each day was a completely new adventure.

She’d also discovered that she liked what she was doing. Not that her life’s ambition had suddenly become to be the best nanny ever created since Mary Poppins. But Zooey did like the day-to-day life of being part of a family—a very important part. Of caring for children and seeing to the needs of a man who went through life thinking of himself as the last word in self-sufficiency and independence.

The very thought made Zooey laugh softly under her breath. She had no doubt that Jack Lever was probably hell on wheels in a courtroom, but the man was definitely not self-sufficient. That would have taken a great deal more effort on his part than just walking through the door and sinking into a chair. Which was practically all he ever did whenever he did show up at the house.

There were days when he never made it back at all, calling to say that he was pulling an all-nighter. There was a leather sofa in the office that he used for catnaps.

She knew this because the first time he’d called to say that, she’d placed dinner in a picnic basket and driven down to his office with the children. He’d been rendered speechless by her unexpected appearance. She and the kids had stayed long enough for her to put out his dinner, and then left. He was still dumbstruck when she’d closed the door.

Zooey wondered absently if her employer thought the house ran itself, or if he even realized that she was not only “the nanny,” but had taken on all the duties of housekeeper as well.

It was either that, she thought, or watch the children go hungry, running through a messy house, searching for a clean glass in order to get a drink of water. Taking the initiative, she did the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping and the laundry, when she wasn’t busy playing with the children.

She was, in effect, a wife and mom—without the fringe benefits.

As far as she knew, no other woman was on the receiving end of those fringe benefits. Jack Lever was all about work.

So much so that his children were not getting nearly enough of his company.

She’d mentioned that fact to him more than once. The first time, he’d looked at her in surprise, as if she’d crossed some invisible line in the sand. It was obvious he wasn’t accustomed to having his shortcomings pointed out to him, especially by someone whose paychecks he signed. But Zooey was nothing if not honest. There was no way she would have been able to keep working for him if she had to hold her tongue about something as important as Emily and Jackie’s emotional well-being.

“Kids need a father,” she’d told him outright, pulling no punches after he’d said he wasn’t going to be home that night. That made four out of the previous five nights that he’d missed having dinner with Emily and Jackie.

He’d scowled at her. “They need to eat and have a roof over their heads as well.”

Men probably trembled when he took that tone with them, Zooey remembered thinking. But she’d stood up to her father, reclaiming her life, and if she could survive that, she reasoned that she could face anything.

“And the food and roof will disappear if you come home one night early enough to read them a story before bedtime?” she’d challenged.

He’d looked as if he would leave at any second. She was mildly surprised that he remained to argue the point. “Listen, I hired you to be their nanny, not my conscience.”

She’d gazed at him for a long moment, taking his full measure. Wondering if she’d been mistaken about Jack. Then decided that he was worth fixing. And he needed fixing badly. “Seems like there might be a need for both.”

Her nerve caught him off guard. But then, he was becoming increasingly aware that there was a great deal about the woman that kept catching him off guard, not the least of which was that he found himself attracted to her. “If there is, I’ll tell you.”

“If there is,” she countered, “you might not know it. Takes an outsider to see the whole picture,” she added before he could protest.

Jack blew out a breath. “You take an awful lot on yourself, Zooey.”

In other words, “back off,” she thought, amused. “Sorry, it’s in my nature. Never do anything by half measures.”

He’d made a noise that she couldn’t properly break down into any kind of intelligible word, and then left for work.

He’d come home earlier than planned that night. But not the night that followed or any of the nights for the next two weeks.

Still, she continued to hope she’d get through to him, for Emily and Jackie’s sake.

Jack was a good man, Zooey knew. And he did love his kids in his own fashion. The problem was, he seemed to think money was a substitute for love, and any kid with a heart knew that it clearly wasn’t.

Someone, she thought, heading out of her bedroom toward the kitchen, had given the man a very screwed up sense of values. There was no price tag on a warm hug. That was because it was priceless.

She smelled coffee. Zooey knew for a fact that she hadn’t left the coffee machine on last night.

Walking into the kitchen, she was surprised to see that Jack was already there. Not only had he beaten her downstairs, he was dressed for the office and holding a piece of burned toast in one hand, a half glass of orange juice in the other.

Not for the first time, she saw why he’d always come into the shop for coffee and a muffin. The man was the type to burn water. From the smell of it, he’d done something bad to the coffee.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, crossing to the counter and the struggling coffeemaker. Taking the decanter, she poured out what resembled burned sludge—she’d never seen solid coffee before—and started to clean out the pot. “Sit down,” she instructed, “and I’ll make you a proper breakfast.”

He surprised her by shaking his head as he consumed the rest of the burned offering in his hand, trying not to grimace. “No time. I’m due in early.”

She glanced at her wristwatch; this was way ahead of his usual schedule. “How early?”

He didn’t bother looking at his own watch. He could feel the time. “Half an hour from now.” He washed down the inedible toast with the rest of his orange juice and set the glass on the counter. “Traffic being what it is, I should already be on my way.”

“Without saying goodbye to the kids?” This was a new all-time low. She thought that pointing it out to him might halt him in his tracks.

Instead, he picked up his briefcase. “Can’t be helped.”

Zooey abandoned the coffee she was making. “Yes, it can,” she insisted. Grabbing a towel, she dried her hands, then tossed the towel on the back of a chair. “I can get them up now.” She saw impatience cross his face, and made a stab at trying to get through to him. “They go to sleep without you, they shouldn’t have to wake up with you already gone as well.”

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he told her, “Zooey, I appreciate what you’re doing—”

If time was precious, there was none to waste. Zooey cut to the chase. “No, you don’t. You think I’m a pain in the butt, and I can live with that. But the kids shouldn’t have to be made to live without you. For God’s sake, Jack, they see the mailman more than they see you.”

He didn’t have time for her exaggerations. “I have to leave.”

Zooey stunned him by throwing herself in front of the back door, blocking his exit. “Not until you see the kids.”

There were a hundred things on his mind, not the least of which was mounting a defense for a client who was being convicted by the media on circumstantial evidence. Jack didn’t have time for this.

“This is a little too dramatic, Zooey,” he informed her, “even for you.”

He’d come to learn very quickly into her stay with them that the young woman he’d hired to watch over his children was not like the nannies who had come before her. Not in any manner, shape or form.

It seemed to him that if Zooey had an opinion about something he’d done or hadn’t done, he heard about it. And if he was doing something wrong as far as the children were concerned, he’d hear about that, too. In spades.

While he found her concern about the children’s welfare reassuring and their love for her comforting—absolving him of whatever guilt he might have for not taking a more active part in their lives—there were times, such as now, when Zooey went too far.

He glanced at his watch. “Zooey, I’m due in court in a little over an hour.”

She stared at him, unfazed. “The longer you argue with me, the more time you lose.”

His eyes narrowed as his hand tightened on his briefcase. “I could physically move you out of the way.”

Zooey remained exactly where she was. “You could try,” she allowed. And then she smiled broadly. “I know moves you couldn’t even begin to pronounce.”

He knew of her more than just passing interest in martial arts. Late one evening, he’d come across her on the patio as he investigated the source of a series of strange noises he’d heard. He’d found her practicing moves against a phantom assailant, and remembered thinking that he would feel sorry for anyone stupid enough to try anything with her.

Looking at her now, Jack had his doubts that she would use those moves against him. But he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that she wouldn’t. She was adamant when it came to the children.

He tried to appeal to her common sense. This was way before the usual time when Emily and Jackie got up. “You’ll be waking them up.”

Zooey appeared unfazed by the argument. “They’ll be happy to see you. Besides, they have to get up soon anyway. I’ve got to get Emily ready for school.”

He’d forgotten. The months seemed to swirl by without leaving an impression. It was October already. School had been in session for over four weeks now. There were times he forgot that his daughter went to school at all.

Maybe because he hadn’t really become involved in her life, he still tended to think of Emily as a baby, hardly older than Jack Jr.

But even Jackie was growing up.

Jack blew out a breath. “Okay, let’s go. I don’t have time to argue.”

Zooey beamed. She was generous in her victory. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.” Still standing in the doorway, she gestured toward the rear of the house. “After you.”

He eyed her, picking up on her meaning immediately. “Don’t trust me?”

Growing up around her parents and uncle had taught her the value of diplomacy. Her parents were experts at it. So Zooey smiled, declining to answer his question directly. “Better safe than sorry.”

They went to Emily’s room first.

The little girl was fast asleep. Fanned out across her pillow, her hair looked like spun gold in the early morning sunbeams. Coming to the side of the bed, Zooey gently placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder. She lowered her head until her lips were near her ear. “Emily, honey, your daddy wants to say goodbye.”

One moment the little girl was asleep, the next her eyes flew open and she bolted upright.

Her expression as she looked at her father was clearly startled. And frightened. She clutched at his arm as if that was all there was between her and certain oblivion.

“You’re leaving, Daddy?”

I knew this was a bad idea, Jack thought darkly. He ran his hand over the silky blond hair. “I’ve got to go, honey. I’ve got an early case in court today and Zooey seemed to think you wouldn’t be happy unless I said goodbye.”

Instantly, the panicky look was gone. The small, perfect features relaxed. She was a little girl again instead of a tiny, worried adult.

“Oh, that kind of goodbye.” A smile curved her rosebud mouth. “Okay.”

Jack was completely confused. He looked at Emily uncertainly. “What other kind of goodbye is there, honey?”

“Like Mommy’s,” his daughter told him solemnly.

This time, he raised his eyes to Zooey’s face, looking for some sort of explanation that made sense. “What is she talking about?”

Zooey’s first words were addressed to Emily, not him. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to help you get ready, honey. In the meantime, why don’t you lie down again and rest a little more.”

“Okay.” Emily’s voice was already sleepy and she began to drift off again.

Turning toward Jack, Zooey hooked her arm through his. “C’mon,” she whispered, as if he’d been the one to wake Emily up, and not her. Tugging, she gently drew him out of the room.

“What’s she talking about?” he asked again the moment they cleared the threshold.

Instead of answering, Zooey looked at him for a second, searching for something she didn’t find. He didn’t know, she realized. But then, he hadn’t been there during Emily’s nightmares, hadn’t seen the concern in the little girl’s eyes whenever he was late getting home without calling ahead first.

“Emily is afraid that you’re going to die.”

Her answer flabbergasted him. He stared at her incredulously.

“What? Why?” he demanded. He hadn’t done anything to make Emily feel that way. What had Zooey been telling her?

“Because her mother did,” she answered simply, then went on quickly to reassure him in case he thought there was something wrong with Emily. “It’s not an uncommon reaction for children when they lose one parent to be clinging to the other, afraid they’ll die, too, and leave them orphaned. That’s why I wanted her to see you before you left. So she knows that you’re fine and that you’re coming home to her. She needs that kind of assurance right now.”

“So now you’re into child psychology?” Jack didn’t quite mean that the way it came out. His tone had sounded sarcastic, he realized. But it wasn’t in him to apologize, so he just refrained from saying anything.

She treated it as a straightforward question. To take offense would be making this about her, and it wasn’t. It was about the children.

“I dabbled in it, yes. Took a couple of courses,” she added.

Jack was silent for a moment, then nodded toward his son’s room. “And what’s Jackie’s story?”

“He picks up on Emily’s vibrations,” Zooey told him frankly. “Except at his age, even though he’s very bright, he doesn’t know what to make of them.” And then she smiled. “Mostly, he just wants his daddy around. Like any other little boy.”

Jack had never been one of those fun parents, the kind featured in Saturday morning cartoon show ads. He hadn’t the knack for children’s games, and his imagination only went as far as drafting briefs. He couldn’t see why his children would care about having him around.

“Why,” he demanded, “when they have you?”

“I’m more fun,” Zooey admitted, “but you’re their daddy and they love you just because of that. It’s only natural that they’d want you to be part of their lives,” she continued, when he didn’t look as if he understood. “And for them to want to be part of yours. An important part,” she emphasized, “not just an afterthought.”

Jack shook his head. The lawyer in him was ready to offer a rebuttal to what she’d just said. But he held his tongue. Because deep down, part of him knew that Zooey was right. That he should be part of their lives far more than he was.

But right now, it wasn’t possible. The demands on his time were too great, and he had to act while he could. That was how careers—lasting, secure careers—were made.

Lucky for his children—and him—he’d struck gold when he’d found Zooey.

He supposed that made a good argument for going along with impulse—as long as it could stand to be thoroughly researched, he added silently. Old dog, new tricks, he mused.

Standing before his son’s door, Jack paused for half a second as he looked at Zooey over his shoulder. The harsh expression on his face had softened considerably. “Am I paying you enough?”

“Probably not,” she responded, then waved him on. “Now go say goodbye to your son if you don’t want to be late.”

Now she was looking out for him as well. Jack shook his head. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re too bossy?”

The list was endless, she thought, but out loud she said, “Maybe. Once or twice. I wouldn’t have to be if you did these things on your own. Now open the door,” she told him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, amused, as he turned the doorknob.

Chapter Four

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Smiling broadly, Zooey shot the question at him three minutes later as she walked with him to the front door.

He stopped in the entry, a less than patient reply on his lips. It froze there as something seemed to crackle between them. It wasn’t dry enough to be static electricity, but certainly felt like it.

And like something a little more…

Feeling like a man who was tottering on the brink, Jack pulled himself back. “I didn’t say it would be hard, I said that it was—oh, never mind.” He waved a hand in the air, dismissing the exchange he knew he’d be destined to lose. “I guess I should just be grateful that you’re not with the DA’s office.”

Her eyes crinkled as she grinned. She was going to get lines there if she wasn’t careful, he thought.

“Attaboy, Jack. Always look at the positive side of things.”

He didn’t believe in optimism. The last time he’d felt a surge of optimism, he’d asked Patricia to marry him—hoping, unrealistically, for a slice of “happily ever after.” What he’d wound up getting were arguments and seemingly irreconcilable differences—until her life, and their marriage, was abruptly terminated.

“I deal in facts,” he told Zooey tersely.

Was that pity in her eyes? And what was he doing, anyway, staring into her emerald-green eyes.

“Facts can be very cold things,” she told him. “At the end of the day, dreams are what get you through, Jack. Hopes and dreams are a reason to get up and strive tomorrow.”

Had he ever been that idealistic? He sincerely doubted it. If he had, it was far too long ago for him to remember. “Mortgage payments and college tuition are reasons to get up and strive tomorrow.”

Zooey cocked her head, her eyes looking straight into him. Into his soul. The touch of her hand on his felt oddly intimate.

“Don’t you ever have any fun, Jack?”

He tried to shrug off the feeling undulating through him, the one she seemed to be creating. “You mean I’m not having fun right now?”

The expression on her face told him she took his flippant remark seriously. “You are if you love your work.”

“I’m good at it.” There was no pride in his answer. It was just another fact.

Zooey shook her head. He could have sworn he detected a whiff of jasmine.

“Not what I said. Or asked.” Her eyes seemed to search his face. “Do you love your work, Jack?”

Love was too damn strong a word to apply to something like work, he thought. “When everything comes together, there is a surge of…something, yes.”

The answer did not satisfy her.

He was a hard man to pin down, she realized. She wondered if he knew that, or if this verbal jousting was unintentional.

“A ‘surge’ isn’t love, Jack.” Zooey’s voice softened a little and she leaned forward to smooth down his collar. “Love is looking forward to something. To thinking about it when you don’t have to because you want to. Love is anticipation. And sacrifice.”

She was standing too close, he thought. He was standing too close. But stepping back would seem almost cowardly. So he stood his ground and wondered what the hell was going on. And why. “For a single woman you seem to know a lot about love.”

“Don’t have to have a ring on your finger to know about love, Jack.” The smile on her lips seemed to somehow bring her even closer to him. “Do you know about love?”

Okay, now he knew where this was headed. She was trying to get him to spend more time at home. Which would have been fine—if somehow his work could do itself. But it couldn’t. “If you’re asking me if I love my children, yes, I love my children. I also don’t want them doing without things.”

Again she moved her head from side to side, her eyes never leaving his. Where did she get off, passing judgment? Telling him how to be a father when she’d never been a parent? The desire to put her in her place was very strong, almost as strong as the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her.

Exercising the extreme control he prided himself on, Jack did neither.

“The first thing they shouldn’t be doing without,” she told him softly, “is you.”

Okay, it was time to bail out. Now. “This conversation is circular.”

His harsh tone did not have the desired effect on her. “That’s because all roads lead to ‘Daddy.’”

Retreat was his only option. So with a shrug, Jack turned to leave.

“Wait,” Zooey cried, just as he crossed the threshold.

“Somebody else I forgot to say goodbye to?” he asked sarcastically. The woman was definitely getting under his skin and he needed to put distance between them. Before he did something that was going to cost him.

To his surprise, Zooey was dashing toward the living room. “No,” she called over her shoulder, “but you did forget something.” The next moment, she was back at the front door with his briefcase in her hands. She held it out to him with an amused smile on her face. “Here, you might need this.”

Jack wrapped his fingers around the handle, pulling it to him with a quick motion she hadn’t expected. The momentum had her jerking forward. And suddenly, there was absolutely no space between them. Not for a toothpick, not even for a sliver of air.

The foyer grew warmer.

Zooey could feel her heart accelerating just a touch as she looked up at him. Something threatened to melt inside her, as it always did when she stopped thinking of him as Emily and Jackie’s father, or her boss, and saw him at the most basic level—a very good-looking man who did, on those occasions when she let her guard drop, take her breath away.

It was so still, she could hear her pulse vibrating in her ears.

“Wouldn’t want you to go into the office without your briefcase,” she finally said, doing her best to sound glib. Not an easy feat when all the moisture had suddenly evaporated from her mouth.

Damn it, it had happened again, Jack thought, annoyed with himself. From out of nowhere, riding on a lightning bolt, that same strong sense of attraction to her had materialized, just as it already had several times before. Each time, it felt as if a little more of his resolve was chipped away.

He had no idea why it overwhelmed him, when other times he could go along regarding her as his children’s supernanny, a woman who somehow seemed to get everything done and not break a sweat. A woman his children seemed to adore and who could, thank God, calm them down even in their rowdiest moments.

All he knew was that every so often, every single pulse point in his body suddenly became aware of her as a woman. A very attractive woman.

He took a breath, trying not to appear as if his lungs had suddenly and mysteriously been depleted of the last ounce of oxygen.

“No, can’t have that,” he murmured, then nodded his head. “Thanks.”

She smiled that odd little smile of hers, the one that quirked up in one corner. The one he wanted to kiss off her lips.

“Don’t mention it.”

Jack merely grunted, then turned and walked quickly to the safe haven of the garage. He never looked back. Even so, he knew she was watching him.

She made him feel like a kid. The last thing he should be feeling, given the responsibilities weighing so heavily on his shoulders.

Damn it, what was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be letting himself react to her.

But he had. And not for the first time.

This was going to be a problem, Jack thought, getting into his BMW. He couldn’t act on his feelings. For the first time since Patricia had died, his children appeared to be happy. And thriving. If he gave in to the flash of desire—damn, it had been desire, he admitted with exasperation—and things went badly, what would he do? He hadn’t the first idea how to conduct a successful relationship. He had no blueprints to follow, no natural ability of his own—Patricia had been the first to point that out to him.

Once things did turn sour between himself and Zooey, he mused, recapturing his train of thought, he’d be out one perfect nanny. And right back where he’d been in January, when he’d first asked Zooey to watch the kids.

No, whatever was going on inside of him would have to remain there, swirling and twisting, and he was just going to have to deal with it.

Heaven knew, he thought, driving away from his house and Danbury Way, dealing with “it” was a lot easier than sitting and interviewing another endless parade of less than perfect nannies.

Out of the blue, the realization hit him right between the eyes.

My God, he’d almost kissed her back there.

What the hell was the matter with him? Jack upbraided himself.

Sex, that was what was the matter with him, he decided. Sex. Or, more accurately, lack thereof.

Jack swerved to avoid a car that was drifting into his lane, coming from the opposite direction. He swore roundly under his breath, feeling as if someone was pushing him onto a very thin tightrope.

Or maybe that was just the pent-up hormones doing the talking.

He hadn’t been with a woman since Patricia was killed. And hadn’t been with her in a while, either, except for that one time that resulted in Jackie.

No wonder he felt so tense, Jack realized. He was an average male who had hormones roaming through his body like midnight looters. He needed an outlet.

For a second, as he approached the end of the long cul-de-sac, he all but came to a stop. It occurred to him just what he needed. It was, God help him, a date. He needed to spend time with a woman who would take his mind off Zooey.

Glancing into his rearview mirror, he saw Rebecca Peters standing outside her house. And she, as she turned around, saw him. Or at least his car.

The wide smile was unmistakable.

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