I should leave now.

Bryce’s heart beat faster as his gaze clung to Amy’s. She had the most incredible eyes. A man could fall into those eyes and never want to come out.

Afterward, he could never think how it happened. All he knew was he fully intended to say goodbye and the next minute he was kissing her. Not a peck, either. A real kiss. One that made his head swim and every hormone in his body leap to attention.

Holy crow, he thought as he raised his head and they stared at each other. What have I done?

And more important…what do I do now?

Dear Reader,

It’s October, the time of year when crisper temperatures and waning daylight turns our attention to more indoor pursuits—such as reading! And we at Silhouette Special Edition are happy to supply you with the material. We begin with Marrying Molly, the next in bestselling author Christine Rimmer’s BRAVO FAMILY TIES series. A small-town mayor who swore she’d break the family tradition of becoming a mother before she becomes a wife finds herself nonetheless in the very same predicament. And the father-to-be? The very man who’s out to get her job….

THE PARKS EMPIRE series continues with Lois Faye Dyer’s The Prince’s Bride, in which a wedding planner called on to plan the wedding of an exotic prince learns that she’s the bride-to-be! Next, in The Devil You Know, Laurie Paige continues her popular SEVEN DEVILS miniseries with the story of a woman determined to turn her marriage of convenience into the real thing. Patricia Kay begins her miniseries THE HATHAWAYS OF MORGAN CREEK, the story of a Texas baking dynasty (that’s right, baking!), with Nanny in Hiding, in which a young mother on the run from her abusive ex seeks shelter in the home of Bryce Hathaway—and finds so much more. In Wrong Twin, Right Man by Laurie Campbell, a man who feels he failed his late wife terribly gets another chance to make it up—to her twin sister. At least he thinks she’s her twin…. And in Wendy Warren’s Making Babies, a newly divorced woman whose ex-husband denied her the baby she always wanted, finds a willing candidate—in the guilt-ridden lawyer who represented the creep in his divorce!

Enjoy all six of these reads, and come back again next month to see what’s up in Silhouette Special Edition.

Take care,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

Nanny in Hiding
Patricia Kay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my granddaughter Kaylee,

who is already showing signs of becoming

a great writer! Love you, sweetheart.

PATRICIA KAY,

formerly writing as Trisha Alexander, is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more that thirty contemporary romances. She lives in Houston, Texas. To learn more about her, visit her Web site at www.patriciakay.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS—
The Hathaways of Morgan Creek

Stella Morgan Hathaway (90 years old)—Matriarch of the Hathaway family.

Jonathan Morgan Hathaway (67 years old)—Stella’s only son.

Kathleen Bryce Hathaway (63 years old)—Jonathan’s wife.

Bryce Hathaway (40 years old)—A widower, he is Jonathan and Kathleen’s only son.

Amy Jordan (32 years old)—On the run from her ex-husband, Amy hides among the Hathaways.

Calista Jordan (3 years old)—Amy’s daughter.

Cole Jordan (37 years old)—Amy’s ex-husband.

Chloe Hathaway Standish (36 years old)—The oldest Hathaway daughter.

Lorna Morgan Hathaway (32 years old)—The middle Hathaway daughter.

Claudia Elizabeth Hathaway (28 years old)—The youngest Hathaway daughter.

Greg Standish (38 years old)—Chloe’s husband.

Cameron Kathleen Standish (14 years old)—Chloe and Greg’s daughter.

Stella Ann Hathaway (8 years old)—Bryce’s older daughter.

Susan Adele Hathaway (7 years old)—Bryce’s younger daughter.

Contents

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

Chapter Thirteen

Prologue

“Mommy! Lookit me! I can do a summersot!”

Amy Jordan smiled at her three-year-old’s exuberance. “It’s summersault, sweetie. Can you say sault?”

“Sot,” Calista said, grinning up at her mother from her upside-down position.

Amy chuckled. Ls and Rs were hard for her daughter to get her tongue around. As Calista continued doing her version of a summersault, Amy glanced at her watch. With a pang, she saw there was only about ten minutes left of her allotted visiting time.

As always, at the thought of leaving Calista, Amy’s spirits plummeted. She eyed Mrs. Witherspoon, who sat placidly knitting. What was the woman thinking? Did she have any idea how painful these visits were for Amy? Just how hard it was for her to leave her daughter week in and week out?

The strict rules of visitation Amy was required to follow nearly overwhelmed her with despair. After all the abuse she had suffered, the unfairness of the judge’s decree made her want to scream or weep or both. But as hard as it was for her to maintain control and leave Calista, it was even harder on her baby. Remembering the scene last time, Amy girded herself to be strong and make parting as easy for Calista as she could.

To that end, she slowly rose from the floor where she’d been playing with her daughter for the past three hours.

“Almost time?” Mrs. Witherspoon said, putting down her knitting.

Amy swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

“Before you go, let me just run to the bathroom.”

Amy’s heart banged against her chest as she realized what the woman had said. Forcing her voice not to give away her sudden excitement, she said, “Okay.”

The moment Mrs. Witherspoon disappeared down the hall, Amy flew into the dining room. Grabbing one of the chairs, she hurried toward the bathroom where she jammed the chair up and under the doorknob. Then she raced back to the living room, snatched up Calista, grabbed her purse and ran out the door.

“Mommy?”

“It’s okay, honey.” Reaching her car, which was parked in the driveway, Amy unlocked it with shaking hands. Earlier, she’d covered the car seat she was never without and now she pulled the blanket off and somehow managed to get Calista buckled in without losing more than a couple of precious minutes. She had no idea how long she’d have before Mrs. Witherspoon realized what had happened and managed to free herself from the bathroom and alert Cole that Amy had taken off with Calista.

All she knew was this was her chance, the first opportunity she’d had in the year since the divorce, and she wasn’t going to blow it. She’d been ready for months. Every time she visited with Calista, the trunk of her car had been packed for a getaway. Everything the two of them needed to begin a new life was in that trunk: clothing, toys and games for Calista, food, money, a first-aid kit, sleeping bags. She even had fake ID, thanks to the underground network that aided abused women and children and helped them escape the men who persecuted them.

By now Amy’s heart was beating so fast it scared her, and when her car didn’t immediately start, she thought she might pass out. But the engine caught on the next try, and within minutes Amy was doing a sedate thirty miles an hour—she was terrified of getting stopped for speeding—and heading for the highway that would take her away from Mobile.

She still couldn’t believe it had happened. Never before, in all the time since the divorce, had Mrs. Witherspoon left her alone with Calista. Amy had begun to believe it might never happen, yet she had never given up hope.

“Mommy?” Calista said from the backseat. “Are we goin’ to the store?”

“No, sweetie. We’re going on a vacation.”

“A ’cation?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is Daddy coming?”

“Nope. Just you and me.”

“Okay,” Calista said happily.

Amy smiled, even though inside she was a mass of nerves. She kept looking in the rearview mirror, but so far she saw nothing suspicious. It had only been ten minutes since she’d left Cole’s house. Mrs. Witherspoon probably hadn’t been able to free herself yet, so Amy doubted if Cole knew what had happened. With any luck, it would be hours before he did.

God knew Amy was due a little luck.

Calm down, she told herself.

Just calm down and drive.

A mile later she approached the entrance ramp to I-10 West. Moving into the left lane, she increased speed as she entered the freeway. She wouldn’t be able to stay on the interstate long because that would be the first place the authorities would look. But she needed to get a ways out of Mobile before she transferred to secondary roads, so she was taking a calculated risk. She figured the least amount of time she had before Cole called out the dogs was thirty minutes. To be safe, she would then have to move to the smaller highway she had mapped.

Thirty minutes.

Amy stepped on the accelerator and began to pray.

Chapter One

The large blue-and-purple sign loomed on her right, as Amy rounded a bend in the two-lane road.

WELCOME TO MORGAN CREEK, TEXAS

Home of Hathaway Bakery

POPULATION 5,445

Amy was already driving slowly because the road was so narrow, with big ditches on either side. Now she braked to a stop and stared at the sign.

“Hathaway Bakery?” She frowned. Was it possible? Was this Lorna’s hometown?

Lorna Hathaway.

Amy hadn’t thought of her first college roommate in years. Lorna Hathaway. She had been so nice, so down to earth. If she hadn’t casually mentioned her family’s business, Amy would never have guessed Lorna came from money. The two girls liked each other immediately and had quickly become friends. But then, at the end of her freshman year, Lorna left Florida State where she’d only enrolled because of her boyfriend and his football scholarship. When the romance soured, she moved back to Texas, transferring to the University of Texas in Austin. Gradually, the girls had lost touch.

Amy looked at the sign again.

Morgan Creek.

Home of Hathaway Bakery…

Somehow, coming upon the sign this way seemed to Amy to be a sign itself. She’d been driving now for eleven straight hours, and she was exhausted, but she’d been uneasy about stopping again. Bad enough she’d had to take a chance on stopping last night. Thank God it had worked out okay. At least, she hoped it had.

She’d chosen a local motel in rural Louisiana. Even though she didn’t think Cole could possibly track her down via such a small, out-of-the-way place, she was grateful that the underground network had provided her with Louisiana license plates that she’d put on at the first opportunity. Still, Cole knew what kind of car she drove, and he could provide the authorities with pictures of both her and Calista. Amy wished she had been able to switch cars—something that was possible through the network—but only when you knew ahead of time when you would be leaving so the arrangements could be made. Unfortunately, Amy hadn’t known, so she’d had no choice but to use her own car.

Amy was banking on the belief that Cole would imagine her heading for Florida, where she’d grown up and where her widower father still lived. She hoped the first search would concentrate on that area and give her an edge. Even so, this morning she had awakened Calista while it was still dark, and they were on their way again by six.

No sense taking any chances. She wanted as many miles between her and her ex as she could possibly get, because new identity or not, if anyone could track them down, it was Cole.

Hearing a sound from the backseat, Amy turned around and saw Calista stretching and rubbing her eyes.

Amy’s heart swelled with love. “Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good nap?”

Calista’s forehead knitted into a frown. “Mommy, I hungree.” Her bottom lip quivered.

Amy dug into her tote and unearthed a Ziploc bag filled with Cheerios. She handed it back to her daughter. “Here you go, pumpkin.”

Calista folded her chubby arms across her body in a familiar pose that signaled impending mutiny. “I want French fries and a hambugger,” she said, her frown turning into a thundercloud.

Any other time she’d heard her daughter mangle the word hamburger, Amy would have been amused. Right now she was too tired and too scared to find anything amusing. All she wanted was a safe place to stay. Somewhere she and Calista could get decent food and a clean bed without fear of being found.

“Honeybun, I don’t have a hamburger, but as soon as I find a place to stop, we’ll get one, I promise.”

Calista started to cry, simultaneously struggling to free herself from her car seat.

Amy wanted to cry, too. Instead, she dropped the bag of Cheerios on the seat next to Calista and, forcing herself to ignore her daughter’s tears, headed down the road toward Morgan Creek.

What she would do when she got there, Amy wasn’t sure. She only knew she couldn’t keep driving indefinitely. She and Calista needed a break or else one or both of them was headed for a meltdown.

Five minutes later she saw the first signs of habitation. Once in the town proper, Amy drove slowly. By the time she’d gone through two stop lights, she’d passed half a dozen storefronts, one bank and two steepled churches—one red brick, one white frame. Spying a service station in the next block on the right, she suddenly knew exactly what she was going to do. She headed for the station. She needed gas, anyway.

The August heat blasted her as she exited the car. By the time she’d extricated Calista from her car seat, Amy’s T-shirt was sticking to her.

While the attendant filled her gas tank—Amy had almost forgotten there were still full-service stations in existence—Amy took Calista into the rest room. After washing their hands and faces, Amy combed Calista’s hair, as well as her own, then applied fresh lipstick. With Calista in tow, Amy headed into the main building to hunt down a phone book.

“Sure thing, sugar,” the dark-eyed woman behind the counter said to Amy’s enquiry. Reaching under the counter, she produced a slim, dog-eared directory. “Who would you be lookin’ for?”

Amy was taken aback by the woman’s question. “Um, just an old friend.”

“I know near ever’one in these parts.”

Amy hesitated, then realized it was ridiculous to worry about revealing Lorna’s name. “This is a girl I knew years ago. I’m not even sure she lives here. Her name is Lorna Hathaway.”

“Lorna! Well, sure, sugar, I know Lorna. Shoot, I’ve known all them Hathaways since they were born.” Taking the phone book back from Amy, the woman flipped it open, found the appropriate page, then handed it back. “She’s right there,” she added, pointing about midway down the right page.

Sure enough, there it was: Hathaway, Lorna. That would never happen in one of the bigger cities. Women in places like Mobile almost always listed by their initials if they listed at all. When it came to danger, Amy guessed living in a small town was very different from living in a city. Today she was very grateful for that difference.

After paying for her gas, Amy wrote down Lorna’s phone number and walked outside to the public phone booth.

Unfortunately, Amy’s cell phone could no longer be used, not unless she wanted to take a chance on the call being traced. Would Lorna be there? It was only five-thirty. Maybe she had a job and wouldn’t get home until later. The phone at the other end rang six times with no answer. Amy was just about to hang up in disappointment when a breathless voice said, “Hello?”

“Lorna?”

“Yes?”

“Lorna, this is Amy. Amy Summers.” Summers was her maiden name. “Do you remember me? From freshman year at Florida State?”

“Amy! I can’t believe it. Why, it’s been years. Of course I remember you. Are you still in Florida?”

“Um, actually I’m in the process of moving.”

“From Florida?”

“No, from Louisiana.”

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Well, last year I was in Orlando for a couple of days, and I thought of you and tried to call you.”

“You did?” That seemed promising.

“Yes. I was really disappointed not to find you. I even checked with the alumni office at the school, thinking maybe they had an address for you, but they said they didn’t.”

Amy thought about how Cole had discouraged her from holding on to any part of her old life and how he’d gradually cut her off from everyone and everything he considered a threat to his total domination of her. He had even tried to keep her from visiting her father, but in that, Amy had put her foot down.

“So where are you now?” Lorna asked.

“Actually, I’m right here. In Morgan Creek.”

“You are?”

“I don’t blame you for being surprised.” Amy grimaced. “It’s a long story. I’m just traveling through, but I was hoping we might be able to get together.” She mentally crossed her fingers. “I thought I’d try to find a hotel around here, at least for tonight.”

“I’d love to get together. And forget about finding a hotel. You’re staying with me. I’ve got tons of room. Oh, Amy, I’m so thrilled you called! Okay, where, exactly, are you?”

Amy told her, and Lorna quickly gave her directions to her place. “It’s the third house on the right-hand side of the street. You can’t miss it. A yellow Victorian with dark-brown trim.”

Just as Lorna said, Amy had no trouble finding her street or the house. It was lovely—a beautifully kept, gingerbready Victorian with a cupola and a wraparound porch filled with wicker furniture and even a porch swing. What a perfect house, yet it seemed far too big for just one person. Though Lorna’s name had been listed in the directory as Hathaway, Amy wondered if she might be married, and if she had children.

Amy parked her silver Toyota on the street in front of the house and had barely gotten her driver’s-side door open when Lorna came bounding out the front door and down the porch steps.

Amy would have recognized her old friend anywhere. Lorna was older, yes, but she was still slender and blond, although her hair, which used to be halfway down her back, was now worn much shorter, in one of those messy styles currently popular. Amy, whose own dark hair was wildly curly, would have loved to pull off that more sophisticated look but knew it would never be in the cards.

“Amy!” Lorna’s smile was huge, her bright-blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Before Amy could open the back door to retrieve Calista, Lorna had enveloped her in an exuberant hug. “Oh, it’s wonderful to see you.” Releasing Amy, she stood back and studied her. “You look great. Not a day older than the last time I saw you.”

Amy made a face. “You never were a good liar. I look terrible and I know it.”

“You couldn’t look terrible if you tried.”

“Mommee!”

Lorna’s eyes widened and she stooped down to look into the car. “And who’s this precious little one?”

“That’s Calista, my daughter. Here, let me get her out.”

Lorna stood back to allow Amy to free Calista from her car seat. Calista stared at Lorna curiously as Amy lifted her out of the car.

“Well, hello, Calista,” Lorna said. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?”

Calista, who even at three loved compliments, grinned, revealing the deep dimples she’d inherited from Amy’s mother.

“Oh, Amy, she’s beautiful.”

Amy couldn’t help noticing the wistful note in Lorna’s voice. While continuing to coo over Calista, Lorna helped Amy gather her belongings. Then the three headed up the walkway to the house.

Amy wished she could properly appreciate the well-cared-for lawn and the abundance of colorful summer flowers and shrubs surrounding the house, but she was too on edge to truly enjoy anything but the possibility of at least one night’s respite from worry.

The house felt wonderfully cool in contrast to the heat outdoors and smelled of lemon furniture polish. A quick look around the entry hall revealed shining hardwood floors, beautiful antiques and gorgeous carpets, that gave her an overall impression of both good taste and charm. A fan whirred softly overhead.

“The house is actually clean, thank goodness,” Lorna said. “I have a woman who comes in twice a week, and today was one of her days.”

“It’s lovely.” It was more than lovely. It was tranquil. Amy immediately felt less nervous and frightened just being there. It was as if nothing bad could possibly happen to her—to them—in a house this peaceful.

“Before I show you around, shall we take your things upstairs to the guest room?”

“This is so nice of you, Lorna.”

Lorna made a disparaging gesture. “Hey, we’re friends. Besides, I’m so excited to have you!”

“Well, I really appreciate it.”

Lorna took one of the suitcases and the tote Amy’d had in the car, then led the way up the graceful, curved staircase to the right of the entry hall. Upstairs she showed Amy to a large front bedroom that overlooked the street.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Amy said. The walls were covered with a creamy wallpaper in an old-fashioned pattern of big pink cabbage roses and garlands of ivy. It was charming and reminded Amy of the wallpaper that used to be in her grandmother’s bedroom. The furnishings were just as charming: a four-poster bed with a pale-green comforter and matching dust ruffle, a walnut chest of drawers and armoire, a desk and accompanying chair, and best of all, a wide window seat covered with a thick green pillow. A large teddy bear sat on it.

“Bear!” Calista pointed, eyes wide.

“Oh, dear,” Amy said as Calista immediately headed for the stuffed animal.

Lorna smiled, watching her. “She can play with the bear. It’s a holdover from when my nieces were little.”

“Calista can be kind of rough with her toys.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Turning back to Amy, she added, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a crib for her. I do have a cot, though.”

“Calista doesn’t sleep in a crib anymore, anyway.”

“If you don’t want the cot, she can have a room of her own, whichever you think is best.”

“She can just sleep with me.”

“Are you sure?”

Amy smiled. “I’m sure. That’s what we would have done if we’d gotten a hotel. This is perfect.”

“All right. Why don’t I leave you two alone for a little while, then? You can unpack your things while I make a phone call, okay? Then we can start catching up.”

“Okay.”

When Lorna had gone back downstairs, Amy sank onto the bed and let Calista explore the room. What she wouldn’t give to be able to remain here for a couple of days, but she knew she couldn’t afford to overstay her welcome. If Lorna should offer, that would be one thing. But Amy couldn’t ask.

While Calista played contentedly with the stuffed animal, talking her own version of “bear” talk to him, Amy unpacked their night clothes. It was probably pointless to take anything else out of the suitcases, since in all probability she would be on the road again in the morning, but she did take clean shorts and tops out for both of them to wear tomorrow.

“Okay, sweetie, time to say bye-bye to Bear.”

Calista gave her a dark look, shaking her head and hugging the bear tighter.

Amy sighed. “Oh, all right. You can take Bear downstairs.”

As the two slowly descended the stairs, Amy heard Lorna saying goodbye to someone, and by the time they reached the entry, Lorna had come out to meet them.

“Are either of you hungry? We won’t be having dinner until seven-thirty or later, but I have cheese and crackers and fruit we could have now.”

“I know Calista’s hungry,” Amy said, praying that her daughter wouldn’t turn her nose up at the snack and start demanding a hamburger again.

“Let’s go back to the kitchen, then.”

The kitchen was exactly what Amy would have expected it to be: big, bright and cheerful—done in pale yellow with red accents—and dominated by a fireplace at one end and a big, round oak table in the center. Looking like a Currier & Ives print, the fireplace was flanked on one side by an oak rocking chair and on the other by a fat calico cat who eyed them as they entered the room.

“Kitty!” Calista shouted, immediately racing over to the feline.

“Calista, don’t touch the cat,” Amy said, rushing after her daughter. “Sometimes cats scratch.”

“It’s okay,” Lorna said. “Buttercup is an unusual cat. She actually likes little kids.”

And she did seem to, Amy saw, because when Calista reached out to pet the cat’s head, Buttercup actually leaned into the caress, and Amy heard her purr.

Calista laughed delightedly and sat down on the hearth next to the cat. Amy watched for a while, but quickly realized she didn’t need to worry.

“Can I help you?” she asked Lorna.

“Thanks, but there’s nothing much to do. Just have a seat.”

Within minutes the table was laden with the cheese and crackers, a bunch of red seedless grapes and a wedge of some kind of paté that looked wonderful.

“Milk for Calista?” she asked.

“Please.”

“I’ve even got a sip cup left from my nieces.”

“Great.”

It took some doing to get Calista away from Buttercup, but after promising her if she ate everything, she could play with the cat again, she came to the table. Once she was happily eating, the two friends finally had a chance to talk.

“Before we start filling in what’s happened since we last saw each other,” Lorna said, “I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Tonight there’s a dinner party being given at my family’s home to celebrate my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday, and you and Calista are invited to come, too.”

“Oh, no, we couldn’t,” Amy said. “You go on and don’t worry about us. We’ll just find something to eat in town somewhere.”

“There’s no way I’m letting you ‘find something to eat’ while I go off to a party.”

“It’s not like you invited us to come,” Amy pointed out. “We practically invited ourselves. I don’t want you changing your plans because of us.”

“Look, I’m not leaving you here alone. I called the house and told my grandmother about you, and she insisted I bring you along tonight. She said it would be the height of rudeness to leave a guest home alone while I went out to dinner.” Lorna grinned. “Believe me, when Grandmother Stella issues a command, a good Hathaway obeys.”

Amy had to admit she was curious about Lorna’s family, especially her grandmother, whom Lorna had mentioned more than once in that year they’d been roommates. But tonight was such a special occasion, and Amy and Calista were outsiders. It just didn’t seem right for them to be taking part in a family celebration.

“Now, we only have about an hour until we have to start getting ready. Grandmother’s a stickler for punctuality and tonight’s shindig starts at seven…so let’s quit wasting time arguing about whether you’re coming with me or not and let’s catch up.”

In the next twenty minutes Amy learned that Lorna had come back to Morgan Creek after getting her master’s degree and had worked in the family business ever since. She had been married, she said, but was now divorced, and had no children. This last had been relayed matter-of-factly, but Lorna couldn’t disguise the longing she obviously felt. It was there every time she looked at Calista, and Amy felt bad for her friend. Calista was the light of her life, the best thing that had ever happened to her—despite the fact she’d had to be married to Cole to get her—and Amy felt sorry for everyone who hadn’t experienced that same joy, especially when it was so obvious they wanted children.

“Now let’s hear everything about you,” Lorna said when she’d finished.

Amy looked over at Calista.

Lorna immediately nodded. “Calista, would you like to play with Buttercup in the backyard? She needs to get some exercise.”

Calista grinned. “Yeah!”

“We can sit on the back porch and watch her,” Lorna said to Amy.

Once they were settled outside—with Calista playing happily and out of earshot, Amy felt free to talk.

“Like you, I’m divorced. My ex lives in Shreveport. He’s an investment banker.” Neither was true. Cole was a high-powered lawyer turned politician and he lived in Mobile, but Amy knew from the women in the underground network that she couldn’t afford to take any chances or trust anyone, no matter who, and had rehearsed the story she would tell to everyone from now on.

“He never really wanted children,” she continued, “so he didn’t object when I decided to head for the West Coast where I understand teachers—even preschool teachers like me—make really good money.” This was partially true. Cole hadn’t wanted children. After all, how could he remain the center of Amy’s universe if he had to share her with a child? But he would have objected violently to Amy’s leaving Mobile with Calista if he’d known about it. Not because he cared about Calista, but because he knew Amy did.

The divorce had infuriated Cole. He’d fought Amy every step of the way. Where she’d gotten the strength to actually leave him and file for divorce, she’d never know, because Cole had beaten her down so much over the years, it had always been easier to just go along with whatever it was he wanted than to actually assert herself.

To retaliate and hurt her in the worst possible way, he had produced “witnesses” who swore under oath that they had seen Amy doing drugs and neglecting Calista. Because of Cole’s position and the friends who lied for him, he was given custody of Calista, and Amy was only allowed to see her twice a week under strict supervision.

“So you’re a teacher?” Lorna said. “I thought you were a journalism major.”

“I was, briefly. But during the summer between my freshman year and my sophomore year, I worked at a day-care center. I loved working with kids so much, I decided to switch to early childhood education. Up until I got married, I taught kindergarten.”

“Up until you got married?”

Amy nodded. “My ex didn’t want me to work.” Seeing the look on Lorna’s face, Amy added wryly, “How could I focus all my time and energy on him if I was working?”

Lorna made a face. “Oh. That kind of man.”

Amy shuddered. “You have no idea.”

“And yet he was okay with you moving and taking Calista with you?”

“He didn’t have a choice.”

Lorna nodded. “How long were you married?”

“Seven years. Seven long years. How about you?”

“Six years.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking?”

“A twenty-year-old Dallas Cowboys cheerleader with big boobs.”

“Oh, Lorna, that stinks.”

Lorna shrugged. “The bloom was off the rose by then, anyway. I realized early on I’d made a bad mistake, but I hung on stubbornly, thinking I could make it work if I just tried hard enough. Thing is, it takes two, and Keith wasn’t trying. He was looking for greener pastures…or should I say someone more adoring than I was ever going to be.”

“Were you living here in Morgan Creek when this happened?”

“Uh-huh. And that may have been a big part of the problem. He hated working for my family, but more than that, he really hated that I had more say-so in the running of the company than he did. Keith has to be top dog and he wasn’t.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if I’d loved him more, I would have tried harder to make him happy. It wasn’t all his fault.” For a moment she was silent. Then she smiled and lifted her glass of lemonade. “But that’s water under the bridge. Now here we are, two women who have learned some tough lessons but who are cutting their losses and moving on. To survival!”

Amy clinked her glass against Lorna’s. “To survival.”

Chapter Two

Bryce Hathaway wasn’t looking forward to the evening. Although his family had always made a big deal out of birthdays, especially those of his grandmother, Stella, the oldest living Hathaway, he knew tonight’s celebration would be a trial because Stella Morgan Hathaway had been on the warpath for the past week.

The reason was Bryce’s youngest sister, Claudia. Since earning her MBA, Claudia had worked in the family business, but it was apparent to everyone that, unlike Lorna, she hated it. With Bryce’s encouragement, Claudia had begun to investigate other job opportunities. This meant there was a high probability she would be leaving Morgan Creek since there were few other job prospects in this town for someone like Claudia outside of Hathaway Bakery. But the truth was, part of the reason Claudia disliked working for the family business was the fact it was in Morgan Creek, as Bryce well knew.

Bryce couldn’t blame his youngest sister for the way she felt. As she’d put it last week, what were her chances of finding a guy she might want to spend her life with if she stayed in what she called “this one-horse town”? Bryce knew the answer: slim to none.

Hence Grandmother Stella’s displeasure, which was now aimed not only at Claudia but at Bryce himself.

Bryce grimaced. On top of having to contend with his grandmother’s dark looks and heavy disapproval, there was also the immediate problem of a nanny for his daughters. The second one in less than six months had abruptly quit the previous Friday. Bryce guessed he understood why it was so hard for him to keep a nanny. Claudia wasn’t the only educated woman who didn’t want to be stuck in a small town like Morgan Creek. And even if these women didn’t mind the town, they did mind the six-days-a-week, live-in requirements of the job. Not even the generous salary and private suite of rooms seemed to make up for these negatives.

Plus there was Susan.

Bryce knew he should be angry with his younger daughter, but it was hard for him to stay mad at Susan, no matter how far she tested his patience, because she was so vibrant and full of life. In those dark months after Michelle’s death, Susan had been the only one who could make Bryce smile and forget his pain.

But the nannies employed since the death of his wife three years earlier weren’t as forgiving of Susan’s pranks and subtle forms of torture as he was. Even Stella’s sweetness couldn’t make up for her younger sister’s hijinks and sometimes aggravating behavior, as one recent nanny had told Bryce in exasperation.

“I’ve had all I can take,” the woman had said.

“Look, I’m sorry about the lizard—”

“Yes,” she’d said, “I’m sure you are, but I’m still leaving.”

The lizard in the jewelry box was only the latest in a series of calculated attempts to get the nanny to resign. Susan had made no bones about the fact she didn’t like Miss Reynolds, and no matter what kind of punishment he exacted, he also knew Susan would never change. Until he found a nanny she liked, she would continue to drive them away.

“Daddy, I’m ready.”

Bryce blinked, then smiled down at Stella. It always amused him that his grandmother’s namesake was totally unlike her in temperament, whereas Susan personified the phrase “chip off the old block.”

“And where is your sister?”

“She’ll be here in a minute. She’s fixing her hair.”

Stella’s own hair, a rich golden brown like Bryce’s, lay in perfect waves held neatly back from her face with a coral headband that matched her coral sundress. Around her neck was a strand of coral beads.

“You look very nice, honey.”

Stella ducked her head in shy pleasure. “Thank you.”

“I hope your sister has taken the trouble to look good for your grandmother, too.”

Before Stella could respond, Susan came racing down the stairs—hair flying, face flushed, eyes immediately zeroing in on Stella’s.

Bryce knew that look. Susan was up to something she knew he would disapprove of and was silently commanding her sister to keep her mouth shut. He also knew it would be futile to question either girl. Whatever it was Susan was planning, he’d just have to wait until it happened. Then he would deal with her.

He quickly inspected Susan, who—miracle of miracles—had chosen to wear a green flowered sundress just as pretty as Stella’s. Even her curlier hair—a shade lighter than Stella’s—looked good.

Bryce smiled his approval. “All right. Let’s gather up your grandmother’s presents and get going. You know how she feels about people not being on time.”

Susan made a face, then grinned at Stella.

Stella returned Susan’s smile.

Sometimes it pained Bryce to see how much Stella wanted to please—not just him, but everyone. He hoped she would outgrow this tendency and become more independent in her thinking. Otherwise he was afraid she was bound to have lots of problems in life, not to mention the very real possibility that she might decide she needed to please the wrong people. He knew he would have to keep close tabs on her, maybe even closer tabs than on Susan.

It was damned hard being a parent, and being a single parent was even worse, especially to daughters. Good thing he had three younger sisters. At least he had a better understanding of girls and the way their minds worked than a man who had never been around many females.

Even so, it was tough raising the girls on his own. He never knew if he was doing the right thing or not. Most of the time, he just muddled through each day and prayed for the best.

Thank God for Lorna, he thought as he and the girls walked across the park-like land that separated his home from the family mansion and gave at least an illusion of privacy. His favorite sister had no children of her own and, especially since her divorce and Michelle’s death, had lavished her motherly instincts and attention on his daughters. They, in turn, adored their aunt Lorna.

The lights of the big house, as Bryce and his siblings had always referred to the main residence within the family compound, were ablaze as he and the children approached.

“Daddy? Is Cameron going to be here tonight?”

“Yes, Susan, everyone’s going to be here.”

“Cool.”

Cameron was the daughter of Bryce’s sister Chloe and her husband Greg, who lived in Austin. Although Cameron was fourteen, six years older than Stella and seven years older than Susan, they both worshiped her. At the moment, she was their only Hathaway cousin, and the way things were going, Bryce was sorely afraid that situation wouldn’t change anytime soon. He knew Lorna had wanted children when she was married but had had some medical problems. Now, of course, she was no longer married. And Chloe didn’t seem inclined to have another, either. Claudia was their only hope.

By now they’d reached the wide, shallow steps leading to the massive oak double front door, which was flanked by flickering gas lamps. Although this was the house where Bryce had grown up, he never entered without either knocking or ringing the doorbell, a courtesy he expected to be returned when any member of his family visited him.

The door was promptly opened by Lucy, one of the maids. “Good evenin’, Mr. Bryce.” She gave him a big smile, then looked down at the girls. “And Miss Susan and Miss Stella. My, don’t you two girls look pretty?”

“Good evening, Lucy.” Bryce nudged the girls, who politely said their hellos and thank-yous.

“Everyone is in the drawing room,” Lucy announced.

Bryce mentally rolled his eyes. Calling the living room the drawing room was something his mother had initiated a few years back, after a trip to England. The affectation had always bothered him. The Hathaways made no pretense of being upper class. Like the Morgans, his grandmother’s family, the Hathaways had come from hardy pioneer stock—people who had worked hard for a living, doing mostly physical work.

Why his mother felt the need to pretend otherwise was a mystery to him. But it hadn’t seemed worth making an issue of, just as so many things were not worth causing more strife in the family than was already there. Bryce believed in picking his battles carefully. That way, his energy was channeled into areas that were important and not just irritations.

The girls raced ahead of him into the large rectangular room that took up the entire right front section of the house. An equally large dining room was across the hall, occupying the left front of the house.

As he entered the elegantly furnished room, he realized most of his family had already arrived. Lorna stood talking to a petite, dark-haired woman Bryce didn’t know, and there was Chloe, her husband Greg and their daughter Cameron, who had all driven down from Austin, and of course Claudia, who still lived at home, along with Bryce’s parents, Jonathan and Kathleen.

Before stopping to talk to anyone else, he headed straight for the far end of the room where his grandmother sat ensconced in a navy velvet Queen Anne chair. At ninety, Stella Morgan Hathaway was still a handsome woman with regal bearing. Her snowy, waist-length hair had been twisted and piled on top of her head, secured with diamond and ruby combs. Matching diamond and ruby earrings and bracelet glittered in her ears and on her right wrist. She wore a long, garnet satin evening dress and, to guard against the chill of the air-conditioning, a white cashmere shawl was draped around her shoulders.

As Bryce and the girls approached, she lifted her chin. Although she smiled, her blue eyes were cool as they met his.

Still mad at me, he thought. His answering smile was warm and loving, for he did love his imperious, stubborn grandmother. He’d always loved her. When he was a boy, she was the one he confided in, the one who counseled him and comforted him and encouraged him. His mother had been too preoccupied with the social activities she used as a substitute for a happy marriage, and his father had been too mired in his own insecurities and discontent to spend much time or effort on his son.

The girls hugged and kissed their great-grandmother, added their presents to the pile near her feet, then skipped off to join their cousin.

Bryce bent down and kissed his grandmother’s soft cheek. The scent of roses, a hallmark of her favorite perfume, clung to her skin. “Happy birthday, Grandmother.”

“It would be a lot happier if you would talk some sense into Claudia.”

“Gran, we’ve been all through this.”

Her lips tightened. “That doesn’t mean I’m satisfied with your decision.”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that.” Bryce almost added more, then decided not to. As he’d pointed out, everything had already been said. More than once. He wasn’t going to change his mind, and his grandmother would not change hers. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

“I suppose you approve of that application she made to that school in Houston.”

“Yes, I do.” Claudia had applied to teach business classes at a community college there.

“Hmmph. Houston. Nothing but dirt and crime and traffic.”

“Gran, that’s not true. I’ve been to Houston lots of times, and I really like the city. There’s lots of energy there. And lots of young people. If a job comes through for Claudia, I think it’ll be good for her to move there.”

He could see how his grandmother was struggling not to lose her temper. This issue was one of the few times Bryce had ever crossed her, one of the few times anyone had ever crossed her, and he knew his opposition was hard for her to swallow.

Saying, “You’ve ruined my birthday,” she put her chin in the air and refused to utter another word.

Giving her a second kiss on the cheek, he murmured, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Gran. Try to remember that disagreeing with you doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Turning away, he finally directed his attention to the other guests in the room.

“Bryce,” Lorna said. She had walked up behind him with the stranger he’d noticed earlier in tow. “I’d like you to meet an old friend. Amy, this is my brother, Bryce. Bryce, this is Amy—” Lorna broke off and gave her friend a quizzical smile. “I never asked you what your married name is. Or if you had gone back to using Summers again?”

“Not with Calista,” the woman said. “Our last name is Gordon.”

“Oh, of course. I took my maiden name back because there weren’t any children involved.”

Bryce took this exchange to mean the woman was divorced.

Turning her attention back to him, Lorna said, “Amy and I met at Florida State that year I was there. In fact, we were roommates. She and her little girl are staying with me for a few days.” She inclined her head. “That’s Calista over there, with Cameron and the girls.”

Bryce caught a glimpse of a cute, dark-haired girl in a pink-checked dress.

“It’s nice to meet you, Amy,” he said, wondering when they had arrived. Lorna hadn’t mentioned expecting company at work today.

“Thank you.” Amy smiled and put her hand out.

Bryce shook it. She had a firm grip for such a small woman. She also had a direct gaze and huge brown eyes that dominated her face. “I hope you won’t be bored here. There’s not much to do in Morgan Creek.”

“It’ll be fun just to catch up with Lorna.”

He liked her voice, too. It was low, with a musical quality and slight Southern drawl. “So you two were roommates?” Those eyes really were incredible. It wasn’t just their size. Their color—a rich, warm brown flecked with gold—was arresting, and setting them off were thick dark lashes.

“Yes. And I missed Lorna after she left.”

She smiled at Lorna, and Bryce saw that she had a small dimple at the right side of her mouth.

“Amy’s on her way to California,” Lorna explained. “She’s a kindergarten teacher and hopes to find a job and settle out there.”

“Whereabouts in California?”

Amy shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I like small towns, and I was thinking maybe I’d go somewhere near the San Diego area.”

As Bryce was framing another question, a flurry at the entrance to the living room announced another arrival. Bryce saw that it was Jake Kenyon, their neighbor and a long-time family friend, accompanied by his daughter, Tara. Tara and Bryce had grown up together, and until Bryce had met and fallen in love with Michelle, Bryce knew that his family and most of the townspeople had assumed he and Tara would eventually marry.

Tara had married within six months of Bryce, and Bryce had always wondered if the marriage had been her answer to his. Whatever the reason, it hadn’t lasted long. Not even two years, and the union had produced no children.

During the years Bryce was married to Michelle, Tara had spent most of her time in Dallas, working as a runway model for several of the designers based in the city. She hadn’t needed to work—as Jake’s only child she had plenty of money and stood to inherit a fortune—but Bryce knew the attention she received from her modeling and the whirl of the Dallas social scene were the big draws. At one point, she’d been engaged to some bigshot Dallas power broker, but she’d broken the engagement. He’d never known the reason why.

Six months ago she’d returned to Morgan Creek and now spent her time helping her father with his many business interests. She’d also become heavily involved with the local rodeo committee, for Morgan Creek and the neighboring town of Bailey Springs joined together to sponsor the annual Morgan Bailey Livestock Show and Rodeo, one of the largest in Texas.

Bryce genuinely liked Tara, and sometimes he wondered if that affection and their long friendship and similar backgrounds might not be enough…for something more. The girls seemed to like her, too. And yet…after having the real thing with Michelle he wasn’t sure he could settle for less.

With this thought in mind, he watched as Tara and her father headed in his direction.

Tara Kenyon looked like a movie star, Amy thought. Tall and slim at about five foot eight, she had luxurious chestnut hair and glittering green eyes. Her features were flawless: straight nose neither too long nor too short, plump lips, perfect white teeth, beautifully arched brows, long, thick, curly eyelashes and a creamy complexion with just a hint of a tan.

And that body! Amy could only dream of such a body. It was very slender yet curvy, with full high breasts and a nicely rounded rear.

Tonight she wore a figure-skimming silk sheath in a shade of tangerine that looked fabulous on her and complemented both her hair and her skin. The dress ended several inches above her knees, revealing long, gorgeous legs and high arched feet with perfectly manicured toes shown to advantage in strappy gold stiletto heels.

Next to her, Amy felt colorless and dull in her beige dress and plain brown sandals, but the outfit was the best she’d packed in readiness for her chance to flee. The reminder that she was here on false pretenses took away some of the pleasure she’d begun to feel at her warm welcome from Lorna’s family.

Watching Tara, Amy saw that she acted like a star, too, barely acknowledging the introduction to Amy as her gaze moved unerringly to Bryce. Only then did she turn on the full wattage of her smile.

Leaning forward, she kissed him on the mouth. “Hello, stranger. Haven’t seen you in a few days,” she drawled sweetly. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

“Another nanny quit,” Bryce said.

“Are you sure you’re not beating them or something? Not that it might not be pleasant to be beaten by you.” This last was said with a low chuckle.

With unspoken accord, Amy and Lorna moved away.

“Bitch,” Lorna muttered.

Amy couldn’t help laughing. “I take it you don’t like her?” she whispered.

“Remind me to tell you some Tara stories tonight after we get back to the house.”

Just then Lorna’s youngest sister, Claudia, approached. Amy had met Claudia and the rest of Lorna’s family earlier and was struck by how attractive they all were. Lorna reminded Amy of Cameron Diaz with her big eyes and wide smile, whereas Claudia was a Meg Ryan type with her coltish grace and impish grin. Chloe, the oldest sister, had more classical good looks, sort of a cross between a young Cheryl Ladd or a Michelle Pfeiffer. They were all blonde—although Amy suspected some of the blond came from a bottle—blue-eyed, slender and tanned.

Bryce was very attractive, too, but in a different way. His hair was darker than the girls’—more brown than blond—but he also had those intense blue Hathaway eyes. Amy decided she wouldn’t exactly call him handsome. His chin was too square and his nose a tad crooked, but in addition to those great eyes, he had a terrific smile, and he exuded warmth and strength. Not to mention tons of sex appeal. These were all qualities Amy was sure most women found irresistible—not just Tara Kenyon.

It was easy to see where the women got their good looks, for their mother, Kathleen, was a beauty, almost as perfectly put together in her way as Tara Kenyon was in hers. Yet there was something about the expression in Kathleen Hathaway’s eyes that told Amy the older woman wasn’t happy. Amy wondered if that unhappiness was related to Lorna’s father. Jonathan Hathaway was handsome, but there was a softness about him that Amy found off-putting.

“So what are you two plotting?” Claudia asked with a grin as she joined them.

“No plot,” Lorna said. She leaned over and stage-whispered into Claudia’s ear, “Just dissing Miss T.”

Claudia grimaced. “Oh. Her.”

Amy was gratified to find she wasn’t alone in her almost immediate dislike of Tara Kenyon. Glancing back, she saw that the woman had slipped her arm through Bryce’s and was looking up at him as if he were the only person in the room.

“Yep,” Lorna said, following Amy’s gaze. “She’s gunning for him.”

“Your brother doesn’t act as if he minds.” It disappointed Amy that he seemed to welcome Tara’s attentions, but it didn’t surprise her. No man would be immune to a woman like Tara, she was afraid.

“She’s been after Bryce since she was knee high to a grasshopper,” Claudia said with an exaggerated country accent.

“Yeah, she nearly croaked when he brought Michelle home and announced their engagement,” Lorna added with a wicked grin. “I don’t think it ever entered her head that he’d marry someone else. It’s one of the few times in Tara’s life that she’s ever been denied something she coveted.”

Just then Bryce and Tara walked in their direction, and the sisters immediately changed the subject.

“So, Amy,” Claudia said, “Lorna tells us you’re heading to California?”

Amy nodded.

“Do you have family out there?”

“No. I just wanted a change.”

“She wanted to get away from her ex,” Lorna added.

“Well, I admire you. I want a change, too, but I haven’t done much about it.”

“You’re doing something,” Lorna said.

“Finally,” Claudia said.

“Hey, it’s not easy bucking Gran.”

Claudia made a face. “Tell me about it.”

“Mommy, Mommy! Lookit what I got.”

The three women turned at the sound of Calista’s excited voice. Amy smiled as her daughter, followed by Bryce’s two girls, skidded to a stop in front of her. Eyes bright with happiness, she lifted a strand of coral beads that were hanging around her neck.

“Where did you get those?” Amy asked.

“Stelwa gave ’em to me.”

Stella Hathaway gave Amy a shy smile.

“That was sweet of you, Stella,” Lorna said. She pulled Stella close and gave her a shoulder hug.

“I have some beads like those,” Susan piped up, “but mine are green. She can have mine, too.”

It was obvious from her tone of voice that Susan had no intention of being outdone by her sister.

“What generous girls you are.” This came from Claudia, who winked at Amy.

“Did you say thank you?” Amy asked Calista.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I’d like to thank you girls, too.” Amy smiled down at Susan and Stella. “But maybe your father won’t like you giving away your jewelry.”

Susan made a face. “He doesn’t care.”

“We bought the beads with our own money,” Stella offered. “When we were in Mexico last year.”

“You went to Mexico?” Amy said.

“Uh-huh,” Susan said. “We took a cruise with Daddy.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Claudia and I went, too,” Lorna said. “And it was fun.”

“We had our own party,” Susan said.

“While the adults were having a cocktail party,” Lorna explained.

“It was cool,” Stella said. “We got to dance and everything.”

They talked about the cruise a few more minutes, then the girls trooped off—the older two each holding one of Calista’s hands.

“I haven’t seen those girls take to anyone like that in a long time,” Claudia said, watching them walk away.

“Neither have I,” Lorna added thoughtfully.

Amy watched them, too, thinking how much she was going to hate leaving Morgan Creek. She’d only been here a few hours and already she felt at home. And, obviously, so did Calista. It really was sweet how Susan and Stella were looking after her.

Just then one of the maids came around with a tray holding glasses of champagne, and a few minutes later the adults were called across to the dining room where dinner was ready to be served. The children would eat in the morning room, Lorna explained to Amy, supervised by two teenage sitters her mother had hired for the evening. “Mother and Gran like civilized meals,” she added with a laugh. “Meaning, they don’t even want to see the children, let alone hear them.”

“Yeah,” Claudia said. “We weren’t allowed to dine with the adults until we turned sixteen. And even then, woe to anyone who couldn’t behave themselves.”

Amy thought about the way she was raised, which was so different. Of course, she was an only child and had been born to parents who were already in their forties and who had never expected to have a child. Consequently, they were so delighted, they liked having her with them all the time. When Amy started school, it was Amy’s mother who had cried instead of Amy. Remembering, Amy felt a frisson of sadness. Her mother had been dead for nearly ten years, and Amy still missed her.

Once in the dining room, Amy found herself seated across the table from Tara Kenyon and Bryce, who was on Tara’s right. Amy was seated between Lorna and Greg Standish, Chloe’s husband. Greg was extremely handsome, Amy thought, and very charming. Almost too charming. When he turned to her, giving her the full force of his attention, she decided if he were her husband, she might never let him out the door.

“So you and Lorna were roommates in college?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Lucky Lorna,” he murmured.

Amy had never been comfortable with men who flirted as easily as they breathed. She was not a mistress of light banter, and she was particularly bad at anything with sexual overtones. Maybe this was because she had spent her working life with children, who were nothing if not direct, so she’d never had a chance to master subtleties. Or maybe it was because Cole had been so possessive and jealous that she’d had no opportunities to develop her skill at casual, social flirting. On the other hand, maybe it just wasn’t in her to be anything but straightforward in her relationships with others. And yet, here she was, presenting a false front to all these nice people, she thought with a renewed stab of guilt.

“Behave yourself, Greg,” Lorna said.

Greg just laughed and winked at Amy.

“Bryce,” Lorna said, “did you notice how taken Susan and Stella are with Amy’s little girl?”

“I did.” His gaze met Amy’s, and he smiled. “She’s a charmer.”

“Thank you.”

“Well behaved, too,” Lorna added. “Which isn’t surprising, seeing as how Amy’s background is teaching young children. I think I told you that’s what she plans to do in California.”

Amy wished she could find a way to change the subject. She was sure Lorna’s brother didn’t care what her plans were, plus she didn’t like being the focus of everyone’s attention.

“Why are you going to California?” Bryce asked. “Is it because you have a job lined up there?”

She knew he was just being polite. “No, not yet.”

“Would you consider staying in Texas if you could find a job here?”

She was surprised by the question. “I…I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. I guess if I happened upon a job somewhere like Morgan Creek, I would. I like small towns.”

Bryce studied her for a long moment. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

Then he said, “Maybe that could be arranged.”

“Really? Do you know of an opening here?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I do.”

At this, Tara Kenyon said, “She’s a kindergarten teacher, Bryce. There’s only one kindergarten in Morgan Creek, and Allison Stuckey has that job.”

“I was thinking along different lines,” Bryce said, not looking at Tara. Once again he smiled. “Amy, what would you think about coming to work for me as a live-in nanny to my girls?”

Chapter Three

Amy’s mouth dropped open. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I said, how would you like to work for me as a live-in nanny to my girls?”

As Amy digested this startling development, she realized this offer might be the answer to her prayers. Cole would never look for her in Morgan Creek because he wasn’t even aware of its existence or the fact she had any connection to it. Working for Bryce would mean she would be living on this compound, behind high walls with a sophisticated security system, to all intents and purposes hidden from view.

She and Calista would be safe.

“Bryce, being a nanny isn’t like teaching school,” Tara said.

Ignoring Tara’s remark, Bryce kept his attention trained on Amy. “It seems to me we could help each other out. I need someone young and energetic and experienced with children to supervise my girls. And you need a job and a way to care for your daughter at the same time. This would solve both our problems. I’ll make it worth your while and pay you as much as you’d make teaching.” He named a generous amount.

Tara had no intention of being ignored. “Have you any experience with girls the ages of Stella and Susan?” she said.

Her voice was perfectly pleasant and reasonable, but Amy knew the woman was not pleased. “Actually,” Amy answered just as pleasantly, “I have.” She turned to Bryce again. “I’m certified to teach kindergarten through second grade, and even though most of my experience is with kindergarten, I did substitute teach in both first and second grades my first year out of college.”

He nodded, obviously pleased. “Stella just completed second grade, and Susan will begin second grade this year.”

“I figured as much,” Amy said.

“So what do you say? Interested in the job?”

“Oh, Amy, it would be great to have you here!” Lorna said. “Please say yes.”

Although Amy was so thrilled about the job offer she wanted to get up and dance around the room, she managed to reply calmly and in a businesslike manner. “I appreciate your confidence in me, and I accept your offer. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Great,” Bryce said.

“Oh, I’m so excited!” Lorna said.

Amy stole another glance at Tara. Although she still maintained an even expression, her eyes as they met Amy’s were as cold and hard as Bryce’s were warm and welcoming.

Amy suddenly had that feeling her mother used to describe as “someone walking over my grave.” She knew as certainly as she knew her own name that she had made an enemy in Tara Kenyon, who obviously viewed her as some kind of threat. Why this should be so, Amy had no idea. After all, Tara was beautiful and rich and from the same social class as Bryce, whereas she, Amy, was not beautiful or rich and certainly not even close to the same class of people as the Hathaways.

She wanted to say, Chill, honey, I’m just the hired help. Your claim on Bryce Hathaway is perfectly safe. He would no more be interested in me than one of the maids.

Sure, Bryce liked her. She could see he liked her. But his liking her had to do with his children and his need for someone to take care of them and not to anything else. Amy was enough of a realist to know that. Anyway, even if Bryce did like her in another way, it wouldn’t make any difference. Amy wasn’t interested in romance. Not yet. Maybe never. And even if she were, how could she get involved with any man under false pretenses? The fact was, she was living a lie, and a lie was no basis upon which to form a serious relationship.

For the rest of the meal, Tara managed to dominate Bryce’s attention, and Amy knew it was no fluke that she did it talking about people, events and subjects Amy knew nothing about and couldn’t possibly comment on. Amy was amused. Tara thought she was effectively cutting Amy out, but she was actually doing her a favor, because now Amy could try to relax and just enjoy her dinner.

Even so, she was relieved when dinner was finally over and she could escape the table. Grinning, Lorna linked her arm with Amy’s as they headed toward the morning room and the children.

“I’m so tickled you’re going to be staying on,” she said. “It’ll be such fun to have you here.”

“I’m pleased, too. It was really nice of your brother to offer me the job.”

“Hey, you’re doing him a favor. He’s had a devil of a time keeping nannies.”

“Why is that? Do you know?”

“This isn’t exactly an exciting place to live, Amy. I mean, the closest movie theater is a good forty-five-minute drive. And shopping? Forget it. You’ve got to go into Austin or San Antonio to find a decent place to shop. And as for eating out, if you don’t belong to the country club, you’re pretty much limited to barbecue or Tex-Mex.”

Amy shrugged. “Those things aren’t very important to me.”

“I agree,” Lorna said. “Of course, I get to travel quite a bit for my job. Being a nanny six days a week really ties you down, plus it isn’t easy. Are you real sure you want to do this? I mean, we did kind of pressure you.”

Amy wasn’t completely sure of anything except the need to hide from Cole, but she smiled and said, “I’m sure.”

Lorna grinned. “This is going to be like old times.”

Amy nodded, but she knew nothing would be like old times, not for her, at least. Her life had changed irrevocably the day she married Cole Jordan, and she would spend the rest of it looking over her shoulder.

Bryce kissed his grandmother good-night, then walked over to where his mother stood talking with Claudia. She turned to him and smiled. “Leaving?”

“Yeah, I think I’d better. The girls are getting wild, which means they’re overtired.”

“So I noticed,” his mother said dryly.

Bryce’s eyes briefly met Claudia’s. In hers he saw understanding and empathy. All the Hathaway siblings understood that their mother would never be the storybook, doting grandmother. Kathleen Bryce Hathaway loved her grandchildren, but she had no patience for behavior that was less than perfect.

And in Bryce’s experience, no child was perfectly behaved. Children were children, not miniature adults. But there was no point in expressing the sentiment, because in this one way, his mother and his grandmother were alike. Each held strong views on the subject, and neither would ever change.

“Before you leave, dear,” his mother continued, “I’d like a private word with you.”

“That’s my cue to disappear,” Claudia said, grinning. She lifted her arms. “Gimme a hug, big brother.”

Once Claudia was gone, his mother said, “Bryce, I’ve never known you to be impulsive—at least not since you became an adult.”

Bryce instantly realized what was coming.

“So do you think it’s wise to have hired Lorna’s friend to supervise the girls without knowing anything about her?”

“Well, I do know she’s Lorna’s friend, and Lorna seems to think highly of her.”

“Yes, but from what I gather, Lorna only knew her for a brief period of time many years ago. We know nothing about her people or her morals or anything else really.” Kathleen frowned. “It worries me. Don’t you think you should at least check her credentials?”

“I intend to.” Bryce had already decided he would ask Amy for her references and give them a call.

“Good. In our position it pays to be careful, you know.”

“It pays any parent to be careful.”

“Well, of course, but people like us have to be doubly careful.”

Bryce bit back what he really wanted to say. Instead he just kissed his mother good-night and went to round up his daughters. As they walked home, he thought about his mother’s concerns. His mother had her faults—the priority she placed on position and wealth being uppermost among them—but at bottom she was a sensible woman who didn’t worry needlessly. And when she did express concern, her reasoning was usually sound.

Why had he been so impulsive tonight? His mother was right. It wasn’t like him. Normally he thought things through and investigated all aspects of a situation before he acted. Yet in the case of someone to care for his children—a job that was crucially important—he had acted on instinct, never mind the fact he had belatedly decided it might be wise to check Amy’s references.

Why?

Later, as he supervised the girls in their bedtime rituals, he still hadn’t come up with an answer to his impulsive act. It was only as he climbed into bed and turned out the bedside lamp that the answer came to him, and it startled him.

Something about Amy Gordon reminded him of Michelle. Bryce punched up his pillow and turned on his side.

Amy didn’t look like Michelle. Michelle had been blond with gray-blue eyes. She’d also been taller than Amy, an all around bigger woman. Yet there was something, some quality the two women shared, although Bryce couldn’t exactly put his finger on it.

He thought about his impulsive act for a long while before finally deciding it didn’t matter why he’d acted the way he had. For some reason he liked Amy and he instinctively trusted her. No, he didn’t know a lot about her background, but he was a good judge of people, and he would lay odds Amy Gordon was a good person and her references would all check out.

So he wasn’t sorry he’d offered her the job. In fact, he had a strong feeling she would be the best nanny his girls had ever had.

“So tell me about your brother,” Amy said. She and Lorna were sitting on the porch—Lorna in the swing, Amy in a nearby rocking chair. Each sipped from a glass of wine. The heat of the day had finally succumbed to nightfall and the strengthening wind that promised rain before morning. It was so peaceful sitting there in the moonlight, listening to crickets chirping and the wind rustling through the leaves of the big magnolia tree that dominated the front yard. Amy could feel all the stress and worry of the past couple of days falling from her shoulders.

“Bryce is one of the good guys,” Lorna said. “Of course, I am prejudiced since he’s my brother, but even so, it’s true. I admire him and respect him more than just about anyone in the world.”

Amy couldn’t help the stab of envy. She had always wanted brothers and sisters. “What happened to his wife?”

“Ovarian cancer. She died three years ago.”

“That’s tough.”

“Yes, it was. We were all pretty broken up about it. Michelle, well, she was special. We all loved her. Even Mother.”

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