Selected praise for Suzanne Brockmann

“Ms. Brockmann’s compelling writing holds readers in absolute thrall.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Undercover Princess

“Get ready to be drawn back into a book filled with themes of family, humor and lots of heart. The characters in this book are incredibly three dimensional, likeable, warm and engaging. Princess Katherine is a classic Brockmann heroine: independent, strong, capable and honorable.”

—The Romance Journal on Undercover Princess

“Ms. Brockmann is a one-of-a-kind storyteller!”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Pure dynamite! The best of the best!”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

SUZANNE BROCKMANN

lives just west of Boston in a house always filled with her friends—actors and musicians and storytellers and artists and teachers. When not writing award-winning romances, she sings in an a cappella group called Serious Fun and volunteers at the Appalachian Benefit Coffeehouse. Readers can find out more about her and her latest books at her Web site, www.suzannebrockmann.com.

Undercover Princess
Suzanne Brockmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Jason, who has a thing for princesses!

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Suzanne Brockmann for her contribution to the ROYALLY WED series.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 1

“Have you been with the agency for long?”

Princess Katherine of Wynborough gazed at the neatly dressed woman who was pacing nervously in the entrance hall of the Sutherland estate. “Excuse me?”

“You are here for the job interview, too, aren’t you?” the woman asked. “I’ve worked as the Hendrickson’s nanny for years, but they’re moving overseas. I wanted to stay in the Albuquerque area, but now I’m not sure which would be worse—living in Hong Kong or working for Trey Sutherland.”

And right then, for Katherine, suddenly everything was crystal clear.

Job interview. That’s why it had suddenly become so easy to get onto the Sutherland estate. His secretary had thought she had called for a job interview.

Trey Sutherland was, without a doubt, the most difficult man in the entire state of New Mexico to meet face-to-face. For nearly a week, she’d been given a complete runaround every time she’d called. No, Mr. Sutherland was unable to take the princess’s call. No, Mr. Sutherland was unavailable to meet with anyone until after the New Year at the earliest. I’m sorry, Mr. Sutherland sends his regrets.

She suspected Trey Sutherland hadn’t even received her messages. It wouldn’t have surprised her one bit to find out the man had given his assistant authority to screen his calls. And if it wasn’t pure business, it wasn’t getting through.

But then, this morning, just like that—jackpot. Katherine had called, and without identifying herself, had asked to speak to Mr. Sutherland. His secretary had put her on hold, and then had come back on the line to ask if she wanted to set up an appointment. Katherine had barely had time to say yes, of course, before the woman had told her, “Three o’clock. Sharp.” She’d rattled off the address of the Sutherland estate on the outskirts of Albuquerque, and hung up, leaving Katherine somewhat taken aback by the rapid-fire, no-nonsense American pace.

It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that the secretary hadn’t taken down Katherine’s name. The implications weren’t clear—until now.

And now, after a harried flight from Colorado, it was obvious that the only reason she’d been waved in through those heavy cast-iron gates out front was because she’d been mistaken, first from her well-schooled British accent, and now again from her less than regal demeanor, as a candidate for the position of nanny.

Oh, dear.

“You’ve heard the rumors.” The other woman in the waiting area simply couldn’t sit still. “You know, about Trey Sutherland?”

“Actually,” Katherine said evenly, “I haven’t.”

The woman moved closer to Katherine’s chair as she lowered her voice. “His wife died a few years ago. Definitely under mysterious circumstances. I’ve heard he was a suspect, but the police never found enough evidence to convict him.” She shivered. “It’s so gloomy in here.”

“It’s raining,” Katherine pointed out. The thunderstorm had started, the clouds opening up, as she’d pulled into the driveway of the estate. “It’s gloomy everywhere right now.”

There was a mirror on the wall opposite her, and she looked critically at her reflection. Neat white blouse buttoned nearly to her chin. Dark-gray wool skirt, dark-gray jacket. Sensible low heels. Her hair was neither red nor auburn like her sisters’. Although it gleamed slightly in the dim light that came through the windows, it was completely, unremarkably brown, her bangs framing a face that wasn’t exotically beautiful like Elizabeth, or elegantly regal like Alexandra, or charmingly pretty like Serena.

No, while her three sisters truly looked like princesses, Katherine looked like…someone’s nanny. Her face was a little too round, her mouth a little too soft, and her eyes were a very, very sensible shade of gray.

“How would you sleep at night?” the woman asked. “Wondering if he really did kill her?” She gathered up her purse and raincoat. “I think I’d rather go to Hong Kong.”

“But that’s silly,” Katherine said as the door closed behind the woman. “You don’t know any of the facts. It’s only a rumor.”

Another door opened, and a diminutive Mexican-American woman peeked out. “Are you the only one?” she said in a lilting Spanish accent as she entered the room for a closer look, as if more nanny candidates might be hiding beneath the long bench that lined one wall, or under the other straight-backed chair that sat on the earth-colored tile.

“I appear to be,” Katherine said apologetically. “However—” She closed her mouth abruptly. She would apologize for the mistake only after she met the elusive Trey Sutherland.

“I’m Anita,” the little gray-haired woman said. “I’m Trey’s housekeeper.”

Anita and Trey. It was charmingly informal. Anita wore jeans and a big bulky sweater, Katherine realized. And sneakers on her feet.

“He’s not quite ready for you,” Anita said, “but why don’t you follow me anyway?”

As the housekeeper led the way down a long corridor, Katherine had to jog a bit to keep up. The estate was beautiful, a sprawling hacienda with Mexican-tile floors and windows set into arches, overlooking a lush center courtyard. The last of the fall flowers bloomed, bringing color to the garden, even in the cool autumn rain.

Katherine followed Anita up a flight of stairs, and then up yet another. The hallway here was wide enough to hold several chairs and a soft leather couch, positioned together in a sort of sitting area.

“Trey’s suite is in the tower,” Anita explained. She stopped outside a thick wooden door. “His office is here, his bedroom the floor above. The children and the nanny—you—sleep in the east wing, on the second floor.” She gestured toward the sofa. “Why don’t you have a seat? Trey will be with you in a minute.”

As Katherine slowly sat down, Anita descended the stairs, swiftly and silently.

Katherine drew in a deep breath. Well. Here she was. Moments from meeting the man who could well help answer all her questions.

But how thrilled would he be to help her after he found out she’d used trickery and deceit to worm her way into his home? Of course, she’d been as tricked as he, but he couldn’t know that. She’d better figure out what she was going to say, and she’d better do it quickly.

Katherine drew in another deep breath and practiced her most winsomely royal smile. “Mr. Sutherland. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. But I do believe there’s been something of a mix-up, sir. Your staff has mistaken me for the hired help, while in fact I am a princess. And that, sir, is why I’ve come to see you today. My elder brother, Prince James Wyndham, was abducted as an infant. He’s been presumed dead these past nearly thirty years, but my three sisters and I have recently found reason to believe he may not have perished all those years ago. Mr. Sutherland, we believe that your equally elusive business partner, one Mr. William Lewis, could in fact be our missing brother, and the true heir to the Wynborough throne.”

Ah, yes.

That would go over quite excellently.

Katherine closed her eyes, imagining her sister Elizabeth and their social secretary, Laura Bishop, having to fly from Colorado to New Mexico to bail Katherine out of the lunatics’ wing of the city jail.

This was a mistake—coming to Albuquerque this way, assuming that she could find Bill Lewis, assuming she could get through Trey Sutherland’s tightly closed gates. She wasn’t cut out to play James Bond. That was much more Elizabeth’s or Serena’s speed.

Katherine was the one who should have gone to search through old records at The Sunshine Home for Children in Arizona, where James was now believed to have been brought after his abduction all those years ago.

But something crazy had possessed Katherine. She’d agreed to come to Albuquerque, and now here she was.

Mistaken for a nanny.

Her fault completely.

She looked from the tightly closed door of Trey Sutherland’s home office to the stairs that led back down to the front entrance.

Oh, dear.

As much as she wanted to, now that she was here, she simply couldn’t walk away. If she were going to fail, it wasn’t going to be from lack of trying.

She took a deep breath. “Mr. Sutherland. What I have to say to you is going to sound completely insane, but I must ask you, sir, to—”

The door opened.

And there was Trey Sutherland.

Katherine had seen his picture. She had known that he was outrageously handsome, but his photograph hadn’t prepared her for the reality of the man.

He was taller than she’d expected—well over six feet. His shoulders took up nearly the entire doorway—shoulders clad in a dark-gray business suit that looked as if it had been tailored to his exact measurements. His shirt was a lighter shade of that same gray, his collar unbuttoned, his tie rumpled and loose.

His hair was jet-black and messy, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration. His face was harshly handsome, his mouth set in an expression of grimness. His eyes, although tired, redefined the color blue.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” His voice was a smooth baritone, without even a trace of a Southwestern American twang. “Come on in.”

She had to move past him to enter his office. She went swiftly, aware of the subtle fragrance of his cologne, aware once again of his sheer size.

The phone on his desk rang, and Katherine froze, uncertain whether to go any farther or to retreat and wait, once again, out in the hall.

But Trey Sutherland closed his office door. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll be right with you.”

She gestured toward the door. “If you want, I don’t mind.

“No, this won’t take long. Please. Sit.”

As Katherine slowly perched on the edge of one of the leather armchairs positioned in front of Trey’s rather lovely wooden desk, he picked up the telephone. He took the call standing behind his desk, his back to her as he gazed out the big picture window, his hand on his neck as if he were trying to loosen the tightly knotted muscles there.

“Sutherland.”

Katherine tried not to listen, gazing down at her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

“No.” Trey’s voice left no room for doubt. “Absolutely not.” He laughed, but it was an expulsion of disbelief rather than humor. “No, I’m not hiding him. Believe me, if I knew where Bill Lewis was, I’d be leading the charge to knock down his door.”

Bill Lewis. The man she and her sisters believed might be their brother. Katherine stopped trying not to listen.

“Yeah, he could call or even drop in at any time. That’s his usual MO,” Trey continued, sitting on the edge of his desk in that casual way of an American male, completely comfortable within his well-developed body. His strong back seemed better suited to a T-shirt and a pair of dusty blue jeans, although she did have to admit that his suit fit him exceedingly well. Exceptionally well. “But I can’t make any promises. And, no, I won’t hold him down until you get here.” He laughed again—it was a rich sound that made her own lips move up into a smile. “God, I don’t know. He could be anywhere. Last time he went to Nepal. Nepal. I love him like a brother, but Nepal?”

He stood and turned to face her, and Katherine hurriedly erased her smile and shifted her gaze to one of the framed watercolors that hung on the wall, pretending to be completely absorbed in the shades of blue used in the ocean scene.

Trey Sutherland didn’t know where Bill Lewis was. But he believed it likely that Mr. Lewis could “drop in” at any time. If Katherine truly wanted to find Mr. Lewis, and she did, then—

He was looking at her. He was making noises of agreement into the telephone and, while he thought she wasn’t paying him any mind, he was sneaking a look at…her legs?

That was absurd. If anyone was going to dare to look at a princess’s legs, he would look at Alexandra’s or Elizabeth’s legs, not Katherine’s. While her legs weren’t precisely unattractive, she simply didn’t dress in a manner to draw a man’s eyes in that direction. That is, assuming the man was bold enough to check out a princess in the first place. Most men weren’t.

But, of course, Trey Sutherland had no idea that Katherine was a princess. Trey Sutherland thought that Katherine was in his office to apply for a job as a nanny.

He hung up the phone. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

In the brighter light of his office, she saw that there was a trace of silver at his temples. And his eyes really were a quite disarming shade of blue. His gaze swept over her again in a most disconcerting way. This time, it wasn’t so much checking her out as assessing. Taking stock. Studying. There was nothing disrespectful about it—he was simply doing it in an extremely male way.

“You’re younger than I’d hoped you’d be,” he said bluntly, coming around to sit in the other leather armchair in front of his desk.

Katherine blinked at him. “Younger…?”

“This is a live-in position,” he explained. “If you’ve got a husband and family—”

“I don’t. Have a husband, I mean.”

“A boyfriend?”

She felt herself blush. “No.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.” This was absurd. This man’s questions were so direct as to be rude. And she wasn’t even here to be hired on as a nanny. “How old are you?” Oh dear, where had that come from?

But he answered her. “Thirty-five. At least until the beginning of January, and then I’ll be thirty-six.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No, that’s fair. You’ve got every right to ask as many questions as you want. This interview is a two-way street. Do you like kids?”

She was blinking at him again. “Do I…?”

“Yeah, I know. It seems like a stupid question considering the job you’re applying for, but I’ve run across more than my share of people claiming to be nannies who don’t particularly like the children they’ve been hired to care for. They don’t particularly like children at all.” His eyes were hot with intensity as he leaned toward her. “My kids need to be respected and liked at the very least. And you better believe if I could pay you to love them, I would.”

He stood up suddenly, as if he’d given too much away, or if there was a limit to how long he could contain his sheer energy and stay seated in a chair.

“My turn to apologize,” he said, as he moved behind his desk. “Our last nanny left without even saying goodbye to Stacy and Doug. It’s important to me that I find someone who fully understands the extent of the burden I’m placing upon them. These are kids who know too damn well what it means to be deserted, and—I’m getting way ahead of myself. I haven’t even asked you your name.”

“I do like kids,” Katherine said softly. She liked kids, Trey Sutherland seemed in rather desperate need of a nanny, and, if she kept up this insane subterfuge and moved into the Sutherland estate, she’d be here when and if William Lewis turned up.

She’d also be here to watch Trey Sutherland’s amazingly beautiful eyes blaze with intensity and passion. She imagined his eyes lit up that way at least several dozen times a day.

He smiled only very slightly, yet it was enough to soften the somewhat harsh lines of his face. “That’s good to know, Miss…?”

She tucked her hand behind her back, crossed her fingers, and for the first time in her life, acted on complete impulse.

“Wind,” Princess Katherine of Wynborough said in her very best Sean Connery. “Kathy Wind.”

It was funny, but as Trey reached to shake Kathy Wind’s hand, it was almost—at first—as if she were extending her knuckles to be kissed, as if she were the Royal Queen of England.

But although her hand was soft, her nails were short, some of them bitten. Whoever heard of a queen who bit her fingernails?

She had a solid, warm handshake, and although it was absurd to base such things on gut reactions, he liked her even more for it.

“Where are you from?” he asked, releasing her hand.

She had to crane her neck to look up at him, and he sat down on the edge of his desk to put them slightly more on the same level.

She had a very direct way of looking steadily into his eyes, and he liked that about her, too.

“I’m from the country of Wynborough,” she told him in her Mary Poppins accent. “It’s a small island not far from England.”

“So what brings you all the way out here to the American Southwest?”

“I have…family…in Aspen. Colorado,” she added in that earnest way she had, as if he might not know where Aspen was.

Yeah, Trey liked her. And that was a damn good thing, because, as Anita had let him know, Kathy Wind was the only surviving candidate for the position of nanny. The others had either been scared off by the size of the estate, or by the dark rumors that surrounded both this place and its master.

He gazed into Kathy’s wide gray eyes, wondering what she’d heard about him, and wondering, if she had heard something, why it didn’t matter to her. Of course, this interview was only just starting. She still had time to bring the subject up.

“Ever been arrested?” he asked. It was amazing the variety of answers he’d received to that question when interviewing potential child care providers for his two kids.

Kathy laughed, a sudden burst of startled surprise. “I should hope not!”

“I should, too,” Trey said dryly. “But have you?”

She flushed slightly. That was the second time she’d done that. The effect was completely sweet and totally charming. “No!”

“Good. Neither have I,” he told her.

Something nearly imperceptible shifted in her eyes, and he knew that she had heard something about him. But she didn’t take the opportunity to question him about it. She was either too nervous or too polite.

Too polite, he decided. Despite the chewed-on fingernails and an undercurrent of some kind of emotional energy, Kathy Wind wasn’t afraid of him. God, he would sure love it if some of those quiet manners rubbed off on Stacy. His daughter had become completely wild since Helena’s death. And as for Dougie—the kid had completely stopped talking. All Trey wanted was to hear his son’s voice again. At this point, he wouldn’t even care if the boy used it to tell him to go to hell.

“How long have you worked as a nanny?” he asked her, moving behind his desk to shuffle through the meager pile of résumés the agency had sent him. “The agency hasn’t sent me your references.”

“No?” Kathy blinked at him. “Well, I’m…new. But I’ll…have them faxed to you.” She shifted in her seat. “Actually, Mr. Sutherland, I’ve got to be honest. I’m not from the agency. I heard about this position through an, um—” she cleared her throat “—an acquaintance. But I’ll see that you receive a full list of references later today. However…”

Trey watched her closely, aware that something still wasn’t quite kosher—as his college friends at NYU would have said—despite her honest admission.

She drew in a deep breath and steadily met his gaze. “I’m afraid you might find me slightly underqualified for this position. I’ve never actually been a nanny before.” She gave him the sweetest, most crookedly hopeful smile. “But everyone’s got to start somewhere, right?”

She was adorable. She warmed him in a way he couldn’t quite remember being warmed before. It wasn’t that he found her attractive. Not sexually attractive, that is. Sure, she had a great pair of legs, and her figure—at least what he could see beneath that incredibly non-feminine wool suit—was slender and rather well-proportioned and…Okay, so she was attractive. She was outrageously attractive, but in a fresh-faced, sweet little sister sort of way. Not that he’d ever had a little sister. But if he had, this warmth might be what he would feel toward her.

She was quietly pretty with a slightly round face, innocently free of makeup, that made her look closer to fifteen than twenty-five. Her features were even, almost delicate—small, straight nose, slightly pointed chin. Her mouth was full and friendly, but her eyes were what he liked the best—gray and wide with thick dark lashes. She played at being cool and remote, but she couldn’t hide the very appealing mix of intelligence, interest and innocence that lingered there.

And while Trey would have preferred hiring an experienced nanny, everyone did have to start somewhere.

“You’ll need a driver’s license,” he said. “Do you have one?”

“Of course.” Blink, blink. “Why?”

“You’ll be in charge of getting the kids to and from school,” he said. “They both attend a private school about four miles from here. And then there’ll be parties and things they’ll need rides for.” At least, he hoped there would be. Even though Stacy was in eighth grade this year, her social calendar remained rather empty. “And Stace has clarinet lessons several times a week.”

“So basically, you’d be hiring me as a chauffeur,” Kathy noted, one eyebrow elegantly lifted.

“No, believe me, there’s supervision involved,” Trey told her. “A lot of it, actually. You’d put in long days. You’d have the hours off that the kids are in school, but I’d need you available in the evenings. And during school vacations, I’d need you twenty-four/seven.”

She blinked at him again. “Twenty-four…?”

“Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week,” he explained. What rock had she been hiding under, that she hadn’t heard that expression before? “You’d be compensated for the overtime, of course.”

“Of course, but…” Her eyes were innocently wide. “When do you see them?”

“My time’s going to be really tight between now and the New Year,” he said as if that answered her question. He stood up abruptly. “Before we go any further, you need to meet them. Anastacia’s thirteen and Douglas is six. Neither of them are easy to get along with.” He forced a tight smile. “But that shouldn’t be surprising considering who their father is.”

She studied him seriously. “You seem all right to me.”

Yeah, well he wasn’t. “Their mother died three years ago and neither of them have adjusted very well.”

“That doesn’t seem like something any child would adjust to—at least not well.”

That was a good point, but Stacy and Doug’s lack of adjustment sometimes seemed off the map. Of course, Trey was a fine one to talk. He hadn’t adjusted particularly well to Helena’s death, either.

“Stacy’s pretty hostile,” he told Kathy. Understatement of the year. “Her grades are abysmal, she’s actually left home a few times—sometimes in the middle of the night. She hasn’t gotten far, not enough to call it running away, but still it’s…”

“Frightening,” she supplied the word. “I can imagine. You must have been terrified.”

“She needs…something that I don’t seem to be able to give her,” Trey said honestly. “And as for Doug…” He shook his head. His son had chosen a different way to escape the realities of life after his mother’s death. Trey gestured toward the door. “Now would probably be a good time for you to meet them—that is, if you’re still interested in the job.”

Kathy didn’t stand up. Not a good sign. She sighed. “Mr. Sutherland.”

“Trey,” he said. “Please. We don’t stand on ceremony in this house.”

“Trey.” She looked up at him. “Please would you mind sitting down for just a moment? You’re quite relentlessly tall and I’m afraid that what I have to say to you is an eye to eye sort of thing.”

Trey smiled. This woman was a riot. Only she hadn’t intended any of what she’d said to be funny. But since she was probably going to tell him she didn’t want the job, it no longer seemed very funny to him, either. He sat obediently in the chair next to hers, resigned to what she was about to say.

She turned slightly to face him. “As much as I’d love this position—and I truly would—I’m not sure I’m the right woman for the job,” she told him earnestly, her eyes so serious. “You see, I’m not looking for long-term employment, and it seems to me, sir, that you and Stacy and Doug would be best served by hiring a nanny who would be prepared to stay until the children are grown. It seems to me that they—and you—have had enough upheaval in your lives.”

This was too much. She wanted the job, but here she was, trying to talk him out of hiring her—for the sake of his children.

“I suppose it’s too much to hope I could change your mind,” he wondered aloud. “Talk you into staying on for, say, ten years?”

She smiled at that. She had the cutest dimples when she smiled. “Ten years of twenty-four/seven?” She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“Are you sure this isn’t negotiable?” he asked. “We could rethink the twenty-four/seven thing or—”

“I’m flattered that you think so highly of me after only one brief meeting,” Kathy told him. “But, no, sir. It’s not negotiable. I’d like to hope that someday I’ll have a family of my own and…well…”

“Of course,” Trey said, backing down. “I understand. It’s just…I’m kind of in a bind. This isn’t exactly the time of year where people want to change jobs. The agency said I’d have a better selection of candidates in January, but I can’t wait that long. I can barely wait until tomorrow. I need someone starting now.”

She gazed at him thoughtfully. “I could stay until January, provided I’d have a week off for Christmas,” she told him. “It wouldn’t be the best scenario, but…Maybe if the children knew from the start that I’d only be here temporarily…?”

“Maybe what you better do is meet them first,” Trey countered, “before you start making such generous offers.”

Kathy stood up. “Then lead on,” she commanded in that royal manner she had.

“Right this way, Your Majesty,” he said, leading the way to the door.

She faltered. “Excuse me?”

“Bad joke,” he said. “I think it’s probably your accent. Very…regal.”

“Really?” She looked completely taken aback. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“Relax,” Trey told her. “It suits you. It’s very cute.”

Chapter 2

Cute.

Of all the things Princess Katherine of Wynborough had been called in her relatively uneventful life, cute had not been one of them.

Until now.

She followed Trey Sutherland down the stairs, down another endless hallway. If she were going to live here, she’d need to take a few hours and go exploring with a map. As far as she could figure, the house was shaped like a square U, with two long wings stretching back from the main building, forming the shelter for the center courtyard. The tower was on one front corner of the building—at the beginning of the opposite wing than the one they were heading down now.

In fact, if she looked out the window, across the courtyard and up, she could see the windows of Trey’s office, lights still blazing through the late-afternoon dreariness.

Trey slowed his pace and glanced at her. “I meant what I said,” he told her. “Instead of coming to a definite decision after you meet the kids, you go home and think it over. Fax me your references, and tomorrow, if we still both think this will work—temporarily, of course—we’ll talk again.”

He was giving her an out.

“This is the playroom,” he said, taking a deep breath before he opened the door.

Katherine wasn’t sure exactly what horror she’d expected to find, but the cheerful, brightly lit room, filled with books and games and toys, furnished with two big, overstuffed sofas and a small handful of rocking chairs wasn’t it. There was a huge fireplace. It was cold and dark now, but when lit it would be capable of warming nearly the entire large room. Windows and skylights let in what little light remained of the darkening afternoon. A cabinet was open, revealing a TV and VCR. A Disney tape was playing to the otherwise empty room.

Trey strode to the VCR and turned both it and the TV off. He then went to an intercom system that was built into the wall. He leaned on one of the buttons, bent close to the microphone. “Stace. I thought I asked you to stay with Doug in the playroom this afternoon.”

A young girl’s voice came through the speaker, tinny and thin and clearly annoyed. “I was. But then he chewed through his leash….”

Chewed? Through his leash?

Trey didn’t look too happy about that, either. “How many times have I told you that if we treat him like a boy, he’ll act like a boy and…” He shook his head, clearly exasperated. “Just come down here,” he ordered. “There’s someone here I want you to meet.”

“Leash?” Katherine echoed weakly.

“Imaginary leash,” Trey said quickly. “I may not be father of the year, but I don’t tie my kids up.”

“Doggie—Dougie—thinks he’s a dog.”

The girl’s room must have been right next door, because Stacy arrived in no time at all.

She stood in the doorway, arms across her chest. She was dressed entirely in black. Black leggings, black oversize turtleneck that hung down to her thighs, black lace-up boots with big clunky heels. Her short hair was black, too, although Katherine would have wagered she hadn’t been born with it that extreme color. She wore thick black eyeliner, an extremely pale shade of pancake base, an almost blackish red shade of lipstick, and black nail polish.

The effect was…striking, but perhaps a little much for a thirteen-year-old.

“A dog,” Katherine echoed.

“Yeah.” Stacy gazed at her, unsmiling, sullen to the point of near rudeness. “You know, arf, arf.” She turned to her father. “If you whistle for him, Trey, he’ll come.”

Trey looked decidedly displeased, the muscles in the sides of his jaw jumping. “I’m not going to whistle for him because he’s not a dog.”

Stacy turned to Katherine. “You must be nanny number 4,515.” The girl looked at her critically. “The suit’s cool, the knee-length skirt’s kind of retro, but you should lose the dorky blouse and just go with the jacket with nothing underneath—except maybe one of those black Miracle Bras from the Victoria’s Secret catalog. Trade in the nerd shoes for something with a three and a half inch heel and—”

“And I don’t think so,” Trey interrupted.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t,” Stacy said with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re the one who hasn’t gone out with anyone but the awful Ice Queen in years—unless you’ve been getting busy on the sly with someone I don’t know about.”

Oh, dear.

For one awful moment, Trey Sutherland looked as if he were going to throttle his daughter. And then for one truly dreadful moment, Katherine was afraid the man might cry. Then everything he was feeling, anger and hurt and embarrassment, was tucked neatly away. And when he spoke, his voice was devoid of all emotion.

“What did I do to deserve that?” he quietly asked his daughter.

Stacy knew perfectly well that she had completely overstepped the boundaries of propriety by saying such a thing in front of a stranger. She could apologize, or she could take the defensive route. As Katherine watched, the girl unwisely chose defensive. “It was just a joke. Lighten up, Trey.”

Oh, dear. He clearly hated that she called him by his first name, and Stacy knew it. Katherine could see that the girl certainly had learned how to push her father’s buttons.

“If I’m nanny number 4,500 and something,” Katherine said, stepping boldly into the fray, “I can understand how this all might be a little overwhelming for the pair of you—and for Doug, too, poor thing. So why don’t we start again?” She looked at Trey. “Why don’t you give your son a break and whistle for him—obviously that’s what he wants you to do. And as for you—” she turned to Stacy “—let’s do this nicely, without embarrassing your father any further, shall we?” She held out her hand as Trey sighed and let out a piercing whistle. “I’m Kathy Wind. How do you do? Shake my hand and say ‘Fine, thanks.’”

Stacy’s fingers were cold and she had a grip about as firm as a fish. But her mouth twisted into what could almost be called a smile. “Fine, thanks.”

“Excellent.” Katherine smiled, and squeezed the girl’s hand before letting go. “I think it’s important you’re in the information loop, so you need to know that your father’s only considering hiring me temporarily—until you and he and Doug can find someone that you’d like to hire for the long-term. I’ll be faxing my references and resume as soon as possible. I imagine you’ll want to look them over, too. If you have any questions you’d like to ask me then—or now, for that matter—please go right ahead.”

“Do you ride horses?”

A flash of movement near the farthest of the two sofas caught Katherine’s eye. Two very large brown eyes blinked at her and then quickly disappeared. Douglas had appeared. So to speak. Katherine looked back at Stacy. “Not well, I’m afraid. Do you?”

“I hate horses. Is that hokey accent for real?”

Trey closed his eyes. “Stacy—”

“More real than your hair color,” Katherine pointed out.

Doug was back, peering around the back of the sofa, and this time, Katherine didn’t look directly at him. She simply let him look at her.

Stacy leaned against the wall, feigning disinterest, but there was a definite spark in her brown eyes. “Don’t you like my hair this way?”

Katherine didn’t hesitate. “The style? Yes. The color, sorry, no. However, it is your hair and you have the right to dye it whatever color you like.”

It was the right answer, Katherine noted, because Stacy had to work to prevent her approval from leaking past her facade of boredom. “Do you have any tattoos?”

Good heavens. “No, I’m tattoo free—and completely un-pierced as well.”

“Not even your ears?” The girl was actually remarkably pretty, with a heart-shaped face that—even through the last layers of baby fat—boasted a pair of dramatic cheekbones that were quite a bit like her handsome father’s.

And from what Katherine could see of Doug in her peripheral vision, he looked quite a bit like his sister. Same delicately shaped face. Significantly lighter shade of brown hair, though.

“Not even my ears,” she told Stacy cheerfully.

“You’re kidding. Are you a virgin, too?”

“Anastacia.” Trey bristled, his beautiful mouth set in a grim line. “The idea was that you could ask Kathy questions pertaining to her employment here. If you’d rather go to your room, just keep it up.” He strode tensely toward the hallway. “Where is Douglas?”

“I imagine he’ll come out when he’s ready.” Katherine looked at the little boy and smiled.

He didn’t smile back, but this time at least he didn’t retreat.

“I understand you play the clarinet.” Katherine moved to the couch and sat, and, as if Doug really were a dog, she casually draped her hand over the arm rest, down close to him, as if for him to sniff. “I used to play the oboe.”

“The oboe? Man, double reeds are really hard to—” Stacy cleared her throat, uncomfortable, it seemed, that she’d actually almost been enthusiastic.

Out of all her sisters, Katherine was the only one who had glided almost quietly through her early teens. And although she’d mostly kept her mood swings to herself, preferring to hide away in her room with a good book, she’d lived through all three of her sisters’ significantly noisier bouts of thirteen-year-old angst.

“How about you, sir?” Katherine asked Stacy’s father. “Are you at all musical?”

“You’ve really got to stop calling me that.” He turned to look at her, his blue eyes just as shuttered as Stacy’s brown ones. This was quite a family. Of course, she should talk. The Wyndhams weren’t known for their lack of repression, and out of all the princesses, Katherine was perhaps most guilty of keeping her true feelings under wraps.

“Trey used to play the piano, but these days he only plays the stock market,” Stacy said.

“Sir,” Trey said, sidestepping Stacy’s last remark. “It makes me feel like some medieval lord of the manor.”

He spotted his son, who had gotten close enough to breathe on Katherine’s hand, but not close enough to touch. “There you are.” Several long strides brought him next to the sofa, and he leaned over, scooping Doug up and into his arms. “Doug, this is Kathy Wind. Kathy, this is…”

The boy was dreadfully, painfully shy, and he clung to Trey, burying his face in the man’s shoulder. “Douglas,” Trey finished somewhat apologetically. “Well, it’s the back of Doug’s head, anyway.”

He embraced the boy tightly, resting his cheek against the small tousled head for a long moment. “Come on, Dougie. Don’t you want to meet Kathy?” he asked quietly.

Doug shook his head no.

“It’s all right,” Katherine said. “We both got a chance to look each other over. He looks all right to me, and as long as I look all right to him, and to Stacy, as well—” she turned to the girl “—I think we’ll get along all right. What do you think?”

Stacy shrugged. “I guess.” She looked at her father. “Can I, like, go now?”

Trey glanced at Katherine, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.” He let Doug slide down to the floor as well, and the two children were gone from the room in a flash.

Katherine would have risen to her feet, but Trey sat down on the other end of the sofa as if he were exhausted, as if every bone in his body had turned to liquid. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, his head against the back cushions, as he stared up at the slightly vaulted ceiling.

“So,” he said with a laugh that didn’t have much to do with humor. “There we are. In all our dysfunctional glory.”

He turned his head to look at her, and was unable to hide a glint of despair in his eyes. “I’m not very good at this parenting thing,” he admitted. His smile was self-deprecating. “I guess that was pretty obvious.”

Katherine chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “What was obvious was that you love them. They certainly are—” she couldn’t keep from smiling “—unique.”

His smile became much more genuine. “Understatement.” He stood up and she, too, rose to her feet. “I appreciate your spending all this time here this afternoon, Kathy. I won’t keep you any longer.”

Kathy. Her sisters had sometimes called her Kathy, but no one else ever had. She’d always, always been Princess Katherine. It was funny, actually, hearing her childhood nickname on a man’s lips.

On this man’s very attractive lips.

His very maleness seemed to linger about him, never far from the surface. Even now, as he gazed at her, there was something in his eyes that wouldn’t let her forget that he was a man, and she was a woman.

Katherine wanted him to hire her as a temporary nanny because she wanted to locate one Mr. William Lewis. She also wanted to help Trey Sutherland out of this bind he was in. And, yes, she had to be completely honest here. She liked being looked at and spoken to as if she were a normal woman. Not a princess to bow and scrape and be obsequiously polite to at all times.

“I’ll get those references to you as quickly as I can,” she told him. “By tonight, if possible.”

“Tomorrow will be fine.” He started toward the door. “If and when you decide that—”

“Oh, I’ve decided.”

“I meant what I said about you taking the time to think it over.”

“I don’t need time,” she told him. “I’ll fax them to you tonight. I want this job, and if, as you’ve led me to believe, you’re desperate, well, then…If my references meet your approval—and I believe they will—I see no reason why I shouldn’t start tomorrow.”

“It’s perfect, Laura,” Katherine said into her cellular phone as she drove back into Albuquerque. “If William Lewis shows up, I’ll be there. Already inside the gates of the Sutherland estate.”

“As the nanny.” Laura Bishop was both Royal Social Secretary and friend. Currently she was an extremely skeptical friend.

“I’d really just be a glorified baby-sitter,” Katherine explained. “And that’s perfect, too. After I drive the children to school in the morning, I’ll have nearly the entire day to try to find out where Bill Lewis has gone. Someone in Albuquerque knows where he is, I know it.”

“And you want me to, what? Make some fake references for you?”

“Not fake references.” Katherine pulled into the parking lot of a shopping mall to consult her street map. She had the most dreadful sense of direction of anyone in the world. She searched for the avenue she had just been on, craning her neck to check the name of the cross street. “Real references. Let Alexandra be one. A princess of Wynborough as a reference—that ought to make something of an impact. And I know you could talk Dr. McMahon into vouching for Kathy Wind’s character, too.”

Laura sighed. “Katherine, this could be a complete wild-goose chase. We don’t even know if Bill Lewis is our man.”

“We don’t know that he’s not.” Katherine found the avenue, found the cross street and…yes, she’d been heading away from the hotel. Drat.

“You know, this place has been in something of an uproar since you left this morning,” Laura told her, referring to the royal vacation home back in Aspen. “Gabriel Morgan’s been positively grim about the fact that you just flew off to New Mexico without arranging any kind of a game plan with him.”

“Oh, shoot.” Katherine cringed. Gabe Morgan was in charge of the royal bodyguards. “It’s just…I called Trey Sutherland’s office this morning and was told I could see him at three. I just grabbed the first plane reservation I could get. I didn’t have time to do more than leave a note on your desk.”

“Which I found only about an hour ago.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry!”

“I was just glad it was you. If it were Serena who’d gone missing that way, I think Gabe might’ve had an aneurism on the spot.”

“Laura, it’s going to look extremely peculiar if the new nanny shows up with a bodyguard, so—”

Laura sighed again. “I’ll take care of that, too. Just…promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course, I’ll be careful. And, oh, as far as the references go, I’ve been completely honest with Trey—except about my name. I’ve simply neglected to tell him I’m a princess,” Katherine said. “He knows I’ve had no previous experience as a nanny. But the children aren’t infants, so…”

“Trey, huh? This is getting more and more interesting. Maybe I should reconsider the bodyguard thing.”

Katherine felt herself blush. “No,” she said. “It’s not…I don’t…he doesn’t…he thinks I’m a nanny, and, I mean…” She took a deep breath. “Don’t go there, Laura. He’s simply very informal. Casual. He told me he expects me to wear blue jeans to work.”

Trey had told her to dress casually, adding that he thought she looked to be a blue jeans and T-shirt type. Katherine had been thrilled he would think that, thrilled to be thought of as someone who didn’t necessarily have to wear a tiara to tea. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn something as casual as blue jeans. She didn’t even have a pair in her wardrobe. That was going to change this afternoon.

“Let me have Sutherland’s fax number again,” Laura said. “And, Katherine? I know I don’t really have to tell you this again, but…please be careful.”

“Thursday night,” Trey’s mother said. “At the country club. Have you written it into your calendar? I’ll hold on while you check.”

Trey closed his eyes. “Mom. I’ll be there.” Damn Bill, anyway. This was all his fault. Whenever Sutherland-Lewis needed to be represented at a high society function here in town—or in Los Angeles or New York, for that matter—Bill Lewis did the honors. Leaving Trey with his computers and his deadlines, blessedly far from the limelight and the curious stares that always followed him around.

Did he or did he not kill his wife? Even after three very long years, the rumors persisted.

And the irony of those rumors would have been hysterically funny, except that Helena’s death still hurt far too much for him to even think about laughing.

And as far as the rumors went, Trey hadn’t done completely all that he could to squash them once and for all. No, after that woman’s magazine had chosen him as “eligible bachelor of the month,” he’d actually been grateful when the dark rumors had resurfaced, and the flock of gold diggers pursuing him had vanished.

Vanished as surely as Kathy Wind had when she’d left the estate late this afternoon.

Trey stared at his fax machine, willing it to click on. But it was silent. It was nearly eight-thirty in the evening, and he still hadn’t received Kathy Wind’s references.

“I’ll have my driver pick up Diana,” Penelope Sutherland decided. “We’ll stop at your place at seven for a small glass of wine before heading over to the club. Tell your housekeeper to dress for the occasion, please.”

Trey sighed. “Anita will already have gone home for the night.”

“What kind of housekeeper leaves when you need her most?”

“The kind with a family of her own. And I don’t think answering the door and pouring wine qualifies for ‘needing her most.’”

“I don’t know why you put up with her—”

“Mother, don’t.” Trey cut her off before she started in on lecture number 612 on “Reasons to Hire a New Housekeeper.” Penelope didn’t like Anita, couldn’t understand that Trey liked the fact that the friendly, vivacious Mexican-American woman dressed and acted so casually. Trey’s mother didn’t get it. She didn’t understand that he didn’t want to live in a mausoleum filled with silently grim servants who bowed and scraped and kowtowed. He’d had enough of that when he was growing up, thanks.

It was dark outside, and the window reflected his blurred image. Poor little rich boy. He turned back to his desk, to stare at his fax machine, which was still silent, damn it.

“Thursday at seven,” he said. “It’s in my book.”

“You should call Diana to confirm.”

“You’re picking her up,” Trey countered. “You call Diana.”

Penelope sighed. “If you don’t call her, it’s not going to be a real date.”

“Guess what, Mom? It’s not a real date.”

“Trey, you know how much I loved Helena.” Penelope Sutherland had loved Trey’s wife like a daughter. She’d been best friends with Helena’s mother since grade school. “But enough is enough. It’s time to move ahead with your life. Time to have some fun again.”

Fun? With Diana St. Vincent? “Yeah, look, Mother, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you Thursday, all right?”

Trey rolled his eyes as he hung up the phone.

Diana St. Vincent, the heir to the James Company fortune, was smart, she had an unerring fashion sense, she was socially connected, and she was loaded. But she was also cold as hell. Trey had known her for several years, but he still couldn’t even imagine what she did for fun.

Unless, of course, his mother was talking in vaguely polite euphemisms, and by fun what she really meant was sex. It was time for Trey to have some sex again.

And yes indeed, after three years, there certainly were times, every now and then, when Trey could imagine maybe, just maybe, having sex again.

Oh, yeah.

That was quite possibly the biggest understatement of the decade.

And tonight—God help him—was one of those nights when his imagination was running wild and he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about sex.

And not the pleasant, politely proper sex he’d shared with Helena during their eleven and a half years of marriage. He’d loved his wife, but when they’d made love, he’d always, always held himself back. She was so well-bred, so gentle and refined. He’d always been afraid he might shock her.

No, tonight he couldn’t stop thinking about raw, ragingly passionate, heart-stoppingly, gut-wrenchingly, completely insane sex. The kind where it’s almost like an out-of-body experience because you can’t tell where you end and your lover begins. The kind where you lose yourself in the sheer potent ecstasy of a single kiss and—

Trey opened his eyes, suddenly astutely aware that the fantasy lover he’d just been imagining in his bed was none other than the candidate for the position of temporary nanny, Kathy Wind.

Oh God, where had that thought come from?

Kathy was pretty enough, and sure, she had a body that would probably cause a small sensation if she wore a bikini onto a beach. But that woman probably didn’t even own a bikini. She seemed far, far from the raw, screaming sex type.

She was warm cocoa and cookies, soft and sweet, wrapped in a fleece blanket in front of a crackling fire.

She was little-sister material, while Diana St. Vincent…

It was likely that beneath Diana’s cool facade burned searing passion.

She was a beautiful woman. Thick black hair, porcelain perfect features, a body to die for and the ability to show it off in a very classy way. Diana St. Vincent probably owned a dozen bikinis. And she’d made it clear that Trey’s advances would be more than welcomed.

But he knew that any intimacies he shared with her would have a very steep price. Marriage.

And the thought of marrying Diana St. Vincent left Trey stone-cold.

She didn’t care about him. Not one bit. Like all of the others—even like Helena—she couldn’t see past his bank account to the man beneath.

And he wasn’t going to do that again. He’d rather spend the rest of his life alone than be conned that way again. And alone was most likely the way he’d remain because most people—both men and women—couldn’t get past his huge fortune. They were either completely intimidated and stayed away, or they wanted a piece of it, and were willing to do anything to get it.

What were the chances of his ever finding a woman who said, “The hell with your money. Burn it for all I care. All I want is Trey the man.”

No, all the women he’d ever met had been far more in love with Trey-the-wallet.

It wasn’t too hard to understand why. It wasn’t as if he were a warm, friendly, open, expressive person.

In fact, many, many people had labeled him icy cold, both socially and at work. Especially at work.

The truth was, he wouldn’t want to work for himself. And he wouldn’t blame Kathy Wind at all if she simply never faxed her references—if she turned and ran, and he simply never heard from her again.

That would be a damn shame. Stacy had liked her. Stacy had actually stopped into his office about an hour ago to find out if Kathy’s references had checked out. Dear God, was that a miracle? The idea that Stacy might actually like her nanny…?

Except Kathy wasn’t their nanny yet.

Trey closed his eyes, praying to whomever might be out there listening. Please, please, please don’t let Kathy change her mind. If Stacy liked her, Doug would like her, too. His children desperately needed someone with such a warm, sweet, completely sincere demeanor in their lives.

They needed cocoa in front of the fire.

And as for Trey…He’d keep his thoughts pure from now on, at least when it came to Kathy Wind. It was absurd, really, what he’d been thinking. But he could explain it easily enough. He was tired and obsessing over the fact that he wanted her to fax her references, that he wanted her for this job.

Somehow all his various wants and needs had gotten cross-wired. That was all. No big deal.

With her direct honesty and appealing sincerity, Kathy would fit right in. She would become the little sister he’d never had.

The fax machine turned on with a whir and a mechanical burp, and Trey sat up. He crossed the room and…

Yes.

Kathy Wind’s references.

There was a god.

Chapter 3

“No wonder you’re not married. Just look at your underwear.”

Katherine didn’t even lift an eyebrow. She just kept on unpacking her things.

“How do you expect to catch a man wearing underwear like this?” Stacy held up one of Katherine’s sensible white panties.

Katherine gave her a long, level look. “I tend to keep my underwear beneath my clothes. It has nothing whatsoever to do with my ability to catch men.” Should she even want such a thing.

“Not true.” Stacy spun the panties around on her finger. “My father’s single, right?”

Katherine knew where this was heading. “This doesn’t—”

“And he’s a total babe, right?”

“Stacy, really, I’d prefer not to—”

“It’s a simple yes or no question, and we both know the answer is yes. Yes, he’s a babe. As least as far as old guys go. This is an undisputable fact. I mean, just look at the man. He could be a movie star.”

Katherine conceded. “All right. Yes. Your father’s quite handsome. But I don’t see what this has to do with—”

“Your underwear?” Stacy finished for her. “But it does. Answer this for me. You’re going to be living in this house for about a month and a half. In the same house Trey lives in. Has the thought even occurred to you that you should hit on him?”

“Hit on your father?” Katherine couldn’t help but laugh as she hung the few dresses she’d brought in the spacious closet. “No, it definitely hasn’t occurred to me. Good grief.”

“So in other words what you’re saying is that you look at him, and you see an extremely attractive man that you know is single and completely filthy rich, and it hasn’t even occurred to you that he might be even potential husband material?”

Katherine tried to lower the heat under the frying pan she was currently sitting in. “It’s just not that simple, Stacy. Not everyone is looking for a husband.”

“You are.” Stacy didn’t leave any room for doubt in her voice. “Look at you. Puppies and babies. You love ’em, right? You probably even have little pink flowers on your nightie.” She started opening the dresser drawers to find the nightie in question, but Katherine leaned against the dresser, holding the drawers shut.

Stacy was undaunted. She gave up trying to open the drawers, but didn’t give up on the conversation. “You want a ring and a wedding gown and Prince Charming. You want happily ever after.”

Katherine watched as Stacy flopped onto the big four-poster bed that sat in the middle of the official nanny’s bedroom. “Is that so awful?” she asked the girl.

“For you?” Stacy made a face. “No way. If it’s what you want, well, good luck. I hope someday you even have twins. Your problem isn’t that you want to get married. Your problem is that you look at guys like Daddy—like Trey—and you automatically assume they’re out of your league. And, this is where we get back to where we started, it’s all because you wear really boring underwear.”

“Well,” Katherine said. “Okay. You’ve truly lost me there.” Maybe it was time to go find Douglas.

Stacy sat up. “Look at it this way. You’re standing here, right? Wearing that old dull underwear. And Trey walks in. And you have a conversation, but nothing happens. Nothing sparks because your underwear is so sensible. The entire time you’re talking, you’re thinking, I’m the nanny, there’s no way he’d go for someone like me.”

For a thirteen-year-old, Stacy was amazingly astute. Still…It was definitely time to go find Doug. “I think this conversation has—”

“Now imagine what might happen if, instead of that dull old boring white underwear, you were wearing something with a green-and-peacock-paisley print? Something made of silk and lace? Something fabulously interesting.”

“Stacy, that’s enough. Stop.”

“I’m about to make my point. This entire conversation has been leading to this very moment. You’re not really going to shut me up now, are you?”

Katherine looked into the girl’s widened brown eyes. She knew she was being manipulated, but she shook her head. “Make your point. God help me.”

“You know that old saying—God helps those who help themselves? That’s what I’m trying to do here. I’m trying to help you help yourself.”

“Is that your point?” Katherine asked. “Because if it’s not, cut to it. Now.”

“Okay.” Stacy stood up. “Here you are. Wearing your nanny clothes the way you are.”

Katherine looked down at the skirt and top she was wearing—it was one of her favorite and most comfortable outfits. Nanny clothes. Right.

“But this time,” Stacy continued, “what if you’re wearing some really amazing underwear underneath? Trey comes in, and you’re right, he doesn’t see your underwear, he doesn’t have a clue you’ve got it on. But you know. And the entire time you’re talking to him, you’re thinking about how good you look in that underwear. And all of a sudden he’s not out of your league because you are as good as it gets. And instead of being nervous and shy, you give him a little attitude, a little extra something in your smile. And before he knows it, he’s asking you to dinner. And that’s why you should burn all that boring underwear right away.”

Katherine just stood there, gazing at Stacy. “Well,” she finally said. “I’ll take it under advisement, thanks. Any ideas where Doug might be?”

“Don’t you want a chance for a rebuttal?” The girl really was remarkably bright. And her point really did make quite a lot of sense.

Given the assumption that Katherine would want Trey Sutherland to ask her to dinner.

And that was a very big assumption.

Katherine was here to find Bill Lewis—not to “catch” Trey Sutherland. Or even dine with him.

“No,” Katherine said. “I’ll pass on the rebuttal, thanks.”

Stacy shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She’d been carrying a skateboard when she first came in, and she took it with her, setting it down on the floor in the hallway.

As Katherine watched, the girl stepped onto it, and giving herself a push with one foot, headed down the corridor, the wheels making a soft whirring sound against the wood. “Isn’t that more of an out-of-doors activity?” Katherine asked.

Stacy shrugged again. “This place is so big, and Trey doesn’t care. Doggie’s probably in the playroom,” she added as she rolled away.

Katherine gave an experimental whistle.

The playroom was empty—or at least it appeared to be empty.

But wherever Doug had gone, it couldn’t have been far. The TV was on, and that same videotape was playing. Lady and the Tramp. An excellent choice for a boy who liked to pretend he was a dog.

She turned off both the TV and the tape, and whistled again. Louder this time.

And there he was. A little pointy chin. A delicately heart-shaped face. Two brown eyes. Peeking out at her from behind the draperies.

As a boy, he was too painfully shy even to face her. But dogs simply weren’t shy. And as a dog, he could watch her rather intently.

Katherine sat down on the floor, glad she’d taken the time to change into her new blue jeans, glad she’d bought the ones that were stonewashed and already faded and soft. She opened the bag she’d brought with her, and took out the squeaky toy she’d picked up on her way to the estate.

It was a cartoon-looking pig, with a really goofy smile, holding a soccer ball, of all things.

She held it out, squeaking it, and like any self-respecting dog, Douglas bounded toward her.

Katherine lifted the toy up, out of his reach. “Sit,” she said firmly, holding out her other hand, forefinger pointing, as if she were addressing a real dog.

Doug sat back on his haunches, looking fixedly at the toy.

Katherine slowly lowered the toy, holding it out for him to sniff. She reached out with her other hand and lightly touched his head, ruffling his hair, scratching behind his ears.

He looked at her then. He met and held her gaze—something he was too timid to do without hiding behind this game of make-believe.

“My name is Kathy,” she told him. “Remember me from yesterday? I’m going to help take care of you for the next few weeks.”

He didn’t say a word, but then again, she hadn’t expected him to. Dogs didn’t talk.

He was such a sweet little thing. And he was a little thing, just a scrap of a boy, really. He’d only been three when his mother died. There was no way he could possibly have understood where she had gone, why she had gone away.

“Come here, puppy.” He was so small, Katherine could easily pick him up. And she pulled him into her arms. “Every puppy needs some snuggling, don’t you think?”

He didn’t put his arms around her neck, but he didn’t resist, either. He leaned closer, and she just sat with him on her lap, content to hold him as long as he let her.

Which, considering that he was in truth a small boy, was longer than she would have expected, but not overly long.

He pulled free from her, the squeaky toy in his mouth. Dropping the toy in front of her, he backed away. If he’d had a tail, it would have been wagging.

“What do you want?” Katherine asked. She knew full well, she simply wanted to see if she could coax a word or two out of him.

But he didn’t speak. He simply pushed the toy closer to her with his nose.

She played along. After all, she had managed to give him a hug—something she suspected she’d never have gotten away with if she’d treated Doug like a boy.

First, Stacy had come into Katherine’s room to talk while she’d unpacked. Then Doug had actually let her touch him.

Today, she was going to be content with very, very small victories.

“Do you want to play fetch?” she asked Doug.

He barked happily.

Katherine tossed the little toy out into the room, and Doug scrambled for it, picking it up in his teeth and carrying it back to her on all fours.

He dropped it into Katherine’s hands. “Good dog,” she enthused. “What a good—”

“What is this?”

Trey Sutherland was standing in the playroom door, his face like a thundercloud.

Doug vanished. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone. Faster even than she could blink, he was back behind the drapes.

Oh dear, and they’d been doing so well.

“We’re getting to know each other,” Katherine told Trey.

“I’d like it a lot better if you could manage to get to know Douglas the boy, not Douglas the dog.”

Well. Talk about chilly receptions. Trey Sutherland couldn’t have sounded any colder if he’d tried.

Katherine glanced at the lump behind the drapery. “We should have this conversation elsewhere.”

“I don’t have a dog—I have a son. The conversation’s over. There’s nothing more to say.”

“You may have nothing more to say, sir, but I haven’t even started.” Although Katherine rarely had cause to use it, her royal upbringing in Wynborough had included learning to put plenty of frost in one’s voice. But she didn’t use it again, at this moment. Instead, she opted for earnestness. “Perhaps we could move to the privacy of your office?”

As she’d suspected, earnest took her a whole lot farther than frosty would have.

“That is,” she added with a smile, “if you’re up for the five-mile hike.”

Some of Trey’s own chill dissipated. “It’s not that far. But if you want, we could go somewhere closer.”

Her own room was nearby, but it would hardly be proper to invite him there, even though she had a suite that included an outer sitting room. She might have suggested it innocently enough a half hour ago—before Stacy started in with all that talk about her underwear. But now…

She was aware of that underwear right now—plain and white and nothing special beneath her jeans and turtleneck sweater.

Did she honestly think Trey Sutherland was out of her league?

Hardly—in terms of power and wealth and social standing. In fact, they were nearly perfectly matched. He was one of the richest men in the American Southwest, and she was Wynborough royalty.

However, in terms of romance, passion, lust and burning desire…Well, there was no doubt about it. When it came to attractiveness, Trey Sutherland was a fifteen on a scale from one to ten, and she, on her very, very best day, was merely a four. It wasn’t that she was unattractive. She simply was…nothing special.

Exactly like her underwear.

Good grief.

She forced a smile, and knew without a doubt that it had—like that blasted underwear—positively no attitude.

“No, let’s go to your office,” she said to Trey. “A brisk hike while I gather my thoughts might be perfect. I’ll be back later, Douglas,” she announced, with one last glance at the lump behind the drapes.

Trey was smiling crookedly as he led the way into the corridor. He didn’t smile often, but even his halfway, crooked almost-smile had ten thousand times the charisma hers ever did. And when his mouth was set in his default expression—a slightly tense, slightly grim line, well, then he positively smoldered with sexuality and intensity.

Katherine had never smoldered in her entire life. And it was nearly assured that she would go to her grave having never smoldered once.

Oh, yes. Trey Sutherland was so far out of Katherine’s league, it wasn’t even funny.

“How many rooms do you have here, exactly?” she asked as they headed toward the main wing and his office.

“Too many.”

“Whatever possessed you to buy this place? I mean, it’s absolutely lovely, don’t misunderstand,” she quickly added. “But—”

“But, it’s huge,” he finished for her. “When I first bought it, it was huge and crumbling, too. The owner was going to tear it down, but I persuaded him to sell to me. It’s actually a building with some historical significance. The Beatles spent a weekend here back in 1968.”

Katherine laughed. “And here I was thinking it was historically significant because it had been built by some Mexican bandito.”

“You’re almost right,” he told her. “Although he wasn’t a Mexican, he was American. He originally came from Syracuse, New York. And while he wasn’t officially a bandito, he was definitely a cattle rustler and horse thief, and, although it’s not substantiated, I suspect a few railroad payrolls padded his bank account, too. He made his fortune in Texas, and settled here in New Mexico to stay out of sight of all those Rangers he’d made as enemies during his five-year crime spree. Let me tell you, Kathy, only in America could a thief have a street named after him.”

“Some Americans do seem to have a place in their hearts for the legendary bad guys of the old West—although I think it’s just admiration for the rebel. Respect for the men and women who have cheated the rules and won—or better yet, beaten the system.” Katherine glanced at Trey. “This particular thief, was his name one I would recognize?”

“Oh, yeah. His name was Sutherland. Henry Sutherland. And yes, he was my great-great—I don’t even know how many greats—grandfather.”

“Oh, my.”

Trey smiled. “He was a gambler and lost his entire fortune—including this house—by the time he was forty. His son, Ford, was a gambler, too, and when he was twenty, he made enough money to buy back the house, but the owner carried a grudge and wouldn’t sell. Apparently Henry had played fast and loose with other women, including the new owner’s wife. He spent at least one illicit afternoon that came back to bite him hard on the rump.”

“Oh, dear.”

“You bet. Ford met an untimely end at the hands of a gunslinger who may or may not have been Billy the Kid—local legend says yes, but it’s never been proven and probably never will. He’s buried up on the hill, overlooking the house. I bought that land, too, about ten years ago. Ford’s money was lost, but about forty years later, his grandson made a fortune selling bootleg liquor during Prohibition. This Sutherland’s name was Ellery, and he tried to buy this house back, too—probably to use as a speakeasy. He got as far as a verbal agreement with the owner…who died before it could be put into writing. A nephew from Chicago inherited.

“He had plans of his own for the house, and wouldn’t sell. He turned it into a hotel, which is why there are so many bathrooms, and why the Beatles stayed here, too. It was a solid, prosperous business until the 1970s when the nephew died, and left the place to his two sons. The sons lived in L.A., and put the place in the hands of a manager who couldn’t even begin to handle the upkeep with the budget he was given. So the place started to crumble.

“My father—his name was Arthur—he tried to buy it next, but he had cash flow problems when the stock market crashed, and he couldn’t swing the deal. He died a few years later.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“He might’ve survived the cancer, but he didn’t survive the chemotherapy. He got an infection, and…Still, sometimes I think his wanting this house was what kept him alive so many extra months.”

“So you bought the place, when?”

“Not long after that. The year Stacy was born.” Trey pushed open the door to his office and flipped on the light. “I didn’t really want the damn thing. But when I heard it was going to be torn down—somehow that just seemed wrong. I actually had fun fixing it up.”

Trey Sutherland and fun weren’t two concepts Katherine could visualize together very well.

“Now I love the place. I really liked looking at all these old photos of the way the house used to be,” he continued. “Then, ripping out all the god-awful green shag carpeting and peace-sign wallpaper was reaffirming on all levels.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh, dear’ is right.” He crossed to a bar, built into the wall. “Soda?”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.”

So. Now they were here. In Trey’s office with the door tightly shut behind them. Katherine slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, hoping the stance made her look relaxed and casual. If such a thing were even possible.

“Thank you for telling me about the house,” she ventured. “It’s fascinating. And now, after all that time, a Sutherland finally has it back.”

He carried a can of soda toward his desk. “Yeah—it’s almost as if you can hear the collective sighs of all those generations of haunted spirits. I’ve gotta hope if they’re walking these halls, maybe my being here makes them rest a little easier.” He changed the subject without missing a beat. “It’s probably good that we’re taking some time to talk about Doug—and Stacy, too. You wouldn’t know it at times, but Stace can get really fierce when it comes to Dougie. If he’s at all threatened, she’s like this little she-bear, ready to rip out the attacker’s throat.” He gestured toward his leather-covered chairs. “Sit. Please.”

It was impossible to sit with her hands in her pockets, so Katherine pulled them free before she slowly lowered herself onto the edge of one of the chairs.

“She gave Doug his nickname, you know,” Trey continued. “Helena and I called him Dougie, and she thought we’d named the new baby ‘Doggie.’ She was only seven, so I guess it made sense to her. Anyway, the name stuck, and unfortunately, it’s probably at the core of the kid’s current problem.”

“I truly don’t think Doug has a problem,” Katherine told him. “I think—”

“He eats breakfast from a dog dish,” Trey said flatly. “If that’s not a problem, I don’t—” He stopped himself. “Okay. Look. Helena died three years ago. Three years. The kid should be starting to come around, but instead I see him slipping further and further into this world of make-believe he’s created for himself.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid that one of these days, he’s just never going to come out.”

“He’s six,” Katherine pointed out. “There’s not much reality in most six-year-olds’ lives. Although I studied psychology in school, I’m no expert, sir, and yet—”

“Trey,” he said. “Not ‘sir.’”

“Hard habit to break,” she murmured. “Nearly as hard to break as the habit of interrupting people all the time.”

“I’m sorry.” His apology was swift and completely sincere. “I’ll—Please.” He finally sat down in the other chair. “Continue.”

“It seems to me that pretending he’s a dog is simply Doug’s way of dealing with any new—and potentially frightening—situation. He’s painfully shy, yet here he is, forced to go one-on-one with a new nanny for what? The four thousand, five hundred and something time since his mother just vanished from his life.”

“Twelve,” Trey said. “The twelfth time.”

She was appalled. “In three years?”

“Almost four actually, since we hired a nanny when Helena first got sick. Mae loved the kids and Helena, too, but she left when…” This time he interrupted himself. Apparently there were some details he didn’t feel comfortable sharing.

Such as perhaps the fact that this loving nanny had left because she had seen or heard too much, and feared for her own safety?

Katherine chided herself for having such an unruly and uncalled for thought. Trey hadn’t murdered his wife, contrary to all the rumors. And there were rumors. She’d heard them at the hotel, heard them while shopping in town. It was believed that Trey Sutherland had committed the perfect murder.

But that was just talk, and here Trey had just told her Helena had been sick.

He was sitting there grimly, fingers pressed against his forehead as if he had a headache, his broad shoulders slouched back in the chair, and Katherine couldn’t bear to press him with curious questions about Helena’s death. She would go to the library, read what the newspapers had to say about it, and then, if she had any questions, she’d speak to him. But until then, they had Doug and Stacy to discuss.

“The other nannies were…” Trey shook his head as he glanced over at her. His eyes were truly a remarkable shade of blue. “Some quit after only a few days, some just simply didn’t work out from our end, most of them couldn’t handle Stacy and Doug. None of them stayed more than a few months.”

“That’s got to have been dreadfully tough on Doug and Stacy. I’m not blaming you, mind you,” she added hastily. “I’m not going to pretend that I know you in any kind of depth, but what I do know is that you love your children.”

“But…?” Trey asked, correctly hearing that invisible little word dangling there.

“But twelve nannies in even four years would have to be trying on any child, let alone a sensitive one like Doug,” she pointed out. “In my opinion, Trey—” She’d managed to say his name instead of sir, but it had come out sounding too soft, too intimate and she froze.

He was watching her, giving her his full attention, and being the focal point of all that grim intensity was rather overwhelming. But then he smiled slightly, and the harsh lines of his face softened, and he was somehow, some way even morehandsome, his eyes even more blue. “Thanks,” he said. “I know it’s not easy for you to call me that.”

She tried not to be affected, but her voice came out far too whispery and soft. “In my opinion, Doug’s dealt with all the chaos and change in his life extremely well. He has no reason to trust me, and in fact, here we go again, right? I’m only going to be here for the short term. If Doug’s been paying attention and I think he probably knows everything that goes on in this house, including a few things you don’t think he knows—he does know I’m not going to stay. He has no reason at all to risk becoming attached to me. Considering that, and considering everything else—including his shyness—I’m more than willing to become friends on his terms, first. And if that means playing make-believe games with him, I truly think that’s fine. So unless you specifically tell me that you don’t want—”

“No,” he said. “It’s obvious you’ve thought this through. I’m still leery, but you’re right about Doug being shy.”

“Doug’s shy, but Doggie’s not,” Katherine said, referring to the boy’s alter ego. “I see no reason he shouldn’t use that to empower himself.”

“The dog thing drives me nuts,” Trey admitted. “That’s the hard part about being a single parent. You have to deal with everything—even the things that make you crazy. When Stacy was really little, like two or three, she had this thing with her socks—the seam had to line up across her toes in a certain way, and if they didn’t, it was a tragedy. The shoes couldn’t go on her feet, life virtually had to screech to a halt. I swear, if you wanted her to leave the house at a certain time, you had to start her with her socks and her shoes a good forty minutes beforehand. It drove me mad, but it didn’t bother Helena one bit. She thought it was funny—she was so patient with both the kids and…” He glanced away, and when he looked back he tried to force a smile. “Let’s just say patience isn’t one of my strengths.”

Katherine couldn’t stop the rush of compassion. There was no way on earth this man could have killed his wife. Absolutely no way. Obviously, he loved Helena still. “Well, now that I’m here, I’ll do what I can to help.”

“I suppose it’s too soon to try to talk you into staying on permanently…?”

Katherine laughed and stood up. “I’d better get back to the children.”

She started for the door.

“Kathy.”

She turned back.

Trey had stood up, and silhouetted the way he was against the window and the bright-blue November afternoon, he looked even taller and broader than usual. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He reached up, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “I was hoping we could set up a time to talk each day—maybe in the evening, in between Doug’s and Stacy’s bedtimes. You could keep me filled in on what’s going on with the kids.”

Katherine found her voice. “That sounds…very smart.”

He shrugged out of his jacket, draped it on the back of one of his leather chairs, then rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Say…nine o’clock here, in my office? Doug’s usually unconscious by eight forty-five, but Stacy usually doesn’t get to bed until ten-thirty or eleven. There are shows she likes to watch on TV.”

“That sounds perfect.” Good grief, she sounded like an idiot. That sounds smart. That sounds perfect. What it really sounded was incredibly, foolishly disappointing.

Her heart was still pounding, though. When he’d first said he was hoping to set up a time for them to talk each day, she’d actually been dumb enough to think it was because he enjoyed her company. But no. She’d forgotten herself for a nanosecond, forgotten she was wearing that dull white underwear, forgotten that Trey was, indeed, completely out of her league. Not to mention that he was still in love with his dead wife. Dear Lord, she was so foolish.

“See you tonight, then,” he said.

“All right.” She turned to leave, extremely glad he couldn’t read her mind, but again he stopped her.

“Kathy, hang on.” He crossed the room toward her. “You’ve got…”

She was completely confused as he reached around behind her. He smelled almost sinfully good at that close range, but she still nearly jumped a mile into the air as his fingers brushed the seat of her pants. What was he doing?

“Hold still,” he ordered almost sternly, then touched her again and—

There was a small tearing sound, and Trey handed her a small cardboard tag that had been attached to the back pocket of her brand-new jeans.

“Oh, dear,” she said.

He smiled. Not one of those forced, rueful half smiles he was so good at. This one was genuine, and at close range, it packed quite a wallop.

Katherine knew she was blushing, and she blushed even harder when she realized that in order for him to have noticed that tag, he had to have been looking directly at the seat of her pants. He’d been checking her out again. Imagine that. Even though she was wearing her boring white underwear.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said.

She took the piece of cardboard from him and their fingers touched. His were warm and big, with neatly trimmed nails. She glanced up into his eyes—she couldn’t help herself—and saw that his smile had faded.

He took a step back, away from her, as if suddenly aware he was standing much too close.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have this tendency to point out unzipped flies and spinach between teeth, too. I tuck labels back down into the shirts of strangers. It’s gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion.”

“I think I probably need someone like you following me around,” Katherine admitted. “I once spent an entire day with my shirt on inside out and not one person told me. I finally realized what I’d done at bedtime. I was mortified.”

“Maybe no one noticed,” he suggested. “Most people just don’t bother to look that closely at other people.”

Most people didn’t look at other people the way Trey Sutherland did. He didn’t just look, he examined, studied, memorized. Which was why he’d spotted that tag on her pants. He probably hadn’t been checking out her rear end after all.

Katherine wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. She motioned toward the door. “I should…”

He nodded, taking another step backward. “See you at nine, then.”

“Not for dinner? I mean, I’m sure the children will expect to see you.”

“Oh,” he said. “No, I, um, I have a conference call scheduled and…”

“Oh,” Katherine said. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, I, uh…I’ll see you…later.”

That was completely strange.

Katherine found herself standing in the hallway outside the closed door to Trey’s office. What had just happened? Had she just imagined that Trey had suddenly gotten very, very tense? And if it wasn’t imagined, what had she done? Had it been something she’d said, or perhaps her body language? Her eagerness for him to join her for dinner?

It was absurd even to think he’d want to have dinner with her, but surely he’d want to see his children. Wouldn’t he?

Katherine walked down the stairs and back toward the playroom.

Yes, it was absurd to think Trey Sutherland would want to have dinner with her.

Regardless of what kind of underwear she had on, the man was completely out of her league.

Chapter 4

“Stacy, what do you want on your sandwich?” Kathy backed out of the refrigerator, holding a pile of cold cuts. As she turned around, she slammed directly into Trey.

He saw it coming, but couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.

“Oh, dear, sorry!”

“No, I’m sorry,” he said.

She’d lost her hold on some of the slippery plastic bags, and now they were pinned between them. Trey grabbed for the bags with his left hand, juggling his morning mug of coffee in his right.

He should have just let them fall. Instead, he grabbed the swiss cheese and a packet of ham—along with Kathy’s right breast.

“God, I’m sorry,” he said again.

She made it to the counter and dumped the cold cuts there. She was laughing, thank God, although her cheeks were tinged pink with a blush.

She looked about eighteen years old this morning, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, face scrubbed freshly clean of makeup, dressed in an oversize sweatshirt and jeans.

“Well,” she said. “That certainly woke me up.”

“Sorry.” Damn, he was blushing, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually blushed. Was it back in sixth grade or maybe third…?

He refused to think about how soft her body felt, or the fact that the accidental full body block had been the closest he’d been to a woman in far too long. He refused to acknowledge the sharp flare of sensation and emotion. He didn’t want to analyze whether that sudden turmoil in his chest was the result of longing or need or even attraction—he’d already decided that his feelings toward Kathy were brotherly.

He quickly changed the subject. “And as long as I’m apologizing, I’m sorry I had to cancel our meeting last night.”

“No problem,” she said briskly. “Thank you for leaving a note.”

“I had to go into the office—I didn’t get back until late. I think it was around two-thirty,” Trey explained. He didn’t want her thinking he’d blown her off for anything other than work. “We’ve got a deadline for a big software project for an important client. We’re down to the wire—I’ve got teams working around the clock. There was a problem and the project manager was home celebrating her tenth wedding anniversary, so I went in instead.”

She looked up from making Doug’s sandwich to smile at him. “That was so sweet of you.”

Sweet. God. He didn’t think he’d ever been called sweet in his entire life. He shrugged. “Anyone who can stay married for ten years these days deserves a night off.”

“I’m never getting married. It’s definitely overrated.” Stacy was wearing her standard black, and this morning she’d accessorized it with an equally dark scowl. She got on her skateboard and rolled with her bowl and a box of her current favorite nuts-and-twigs-type cereal to the kitchen table.

“Is it possible,” Trey said to his daughter, “for you to leave that thing at the door?”

She didn’t answer him. He hadn’t really expected her to.

She rolled back to the counter and glared at the orange juice as she poured herself a glass.

Mornings were by far one of the roughest times of the day. Like Trey, neither Stacy nor Doug were morning people, and the rush to get ready for school could be fraught with real peril.

“So, Stacy,” Kathy said exuberantly, “what do you want on your sandwich? Roast beef or ham?” It was possible that her British accent made her sound extra cheerful. Or maybe she simply was bright and upbeat in the morning.

Stacy didn’t look up from the table where she was slumped over her bowl. “I don’t want lunch.”

“Too bad,” Trey said. “You’re going to have lunch whether you want it or not.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it had been the wrong thing to say. But he couldn’t seem to be in a room with his daughter these days without triggering some kind of disagreement. He couldn’t so much as look at the kid without feeling this flare of frustration and despair. “Give her ham and cheese,” he told Kathy grimly.

But Kathy was still being cheerful, ignoring the tension that filled the room. “How ‘bout it, Stacy? Ham and cheese today?”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“But last night you ate Anita’s stew—”

“Today,” Stacy said rudely. “I’m a vegetarian today.”

Lord, help me. Trey realized from Stacy’s belligerent expression and from Kathy’s sudden wide eyes that he’d spoken aloud. “Sorry,” he said. Damn it, all he was doing this morning was apologizing. “Fine, Stace. Take a cheese sandwich.”

“I’m vegan.” At his blank look, she added, “No cheese.” You idiot. She didn’t say the words aloud, but they certainly were implied.

“Great. Take a salad.” He tried to mimic Kathy’s upbeat style as he turned to her. “Do we have lettuce?”

“Absolutely.” Kathy’s smile was warm and welcoming after Stacy’s icy look. “One salad, coming up.”

Doug skittered into the kitchen on all fours and Trey felt his neck and shoulders get even tighter. He was about to bark out an order for his son to get to his feet and walk, when Kathy stepped very firmly on his toe. “Ow,” he said instead.

Then he watched as Doug stopped short at the sight of his favorite bowl—a plastic dog dish bearing the word Rover—out on the floor, filled with unappetizingly hard pellets of kibble.

Well, now, that was interesting. Trey had never tried pushing Doug’s game to the extreme, actually trying to feed the kid dog food.

The look on Dougie’s face was comical. Or, at least, it would have been had Trey found anything at all funny about the fact that his son was more comfortable as a canine than a human.

“Good morning, Douglas,” Kathy said to him cheerfully, Mary Poppins in a sweatshirt. “Are you going to be a dog this morning or a boy? I bought the boy a special treat, but in order to have it, you’ve got to sit at the table and eat with a spoon.”

Sure enough, she’d set a place at the table for Doug, in front of which was a pitcher of milk and a box of sugary cereal.

Doug’s eyes widened, and then—for the first time in weeks, at least as far as Trey had heard—he actually spoke. “Lucky Charms!” He pushed himself onto his feet and ran for the table, sliding into his seat.

And then, maybe even more miraculously, Stacy actually lifted her head from her own breakfast and smiled. Of course, her smile was for Kathy, who was smiling back at the girl and giving her a thumbs-up.

Clearly, they’d been coconspirators in this Lucky Charms plot.

Kathy was wearing black nail polish—a definite sign that she’d spent at least part of the evening in his daughter’s company. Trey was pleased. Or at least he hoped he was pleased.

He leaned closer to Kathy, lowering his voice. “You didn’t leave the kids home by themselves to go buy that, did you?”

She gave him her oh-dear look. “Of course not. I had it delivered.” She leaned closer. “Sorry about your toe.”

She smelled amazingly good, a mixture of clean soap and some softly, delicately fragrant lotion. From this proximity, he could count the freckles that were scattered across her nose and cheeks. They took her adorableness to a completely new level. Why on earth would she ever want to cover them with makeup?

“How do you get the grocery store to deliver that late at night?” he asked. Her eyes were a very light shade of gray-blue, with a very thin ring around the outside of the iris so dark it was nearly black. Her lashes were thick and lush and—Trey took a step back, suddenly aware they were still standing much too close.

“You don’t,” she answered, putting the lid on the plastic container that held Stacy’s salad. “But if you’re creative, you order a pizza and then when it arrives, you tell the pizza delivery boy that he’ll get a twenty-dollar tip if he drops a box of Lucky Charms at the house before ten o’clock.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Trey told her, leaning back against the counter and taking another sip of his coffee. “In fact, I meant to tell you to keep a list of your expenses.”

“Of course.” She gave him another smile. “You look very nice this morning. I assume the suit means you’re going into your office?”

“Thanks, and yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair, feeling absurdly pleased at her compliment. “I’ve got meetings all day.”

She efficiently zipped Doug’s purple lunch box shut. “What time should we expect you home tonight?”

“I’ll be back by nine,” he said. “In time for our meeting.”

“Oh.” Kathy’s smile faded. “Not for dinner?”

“I have a meeting that’s going to run late.”

He’d disappointed her. She was trying hard not to show it, but he had. Clearly she’d had expectations—probably based on the fact that most families shared at least one meal together during the day.

But the Sutherlands weren’t most families. Not by a long shot.

“We need to go,” Stacy implored. “Doug, go brush your teeth. Quickly. You’ve got dog breath.” She gave Kathy another of her rare smiles as Doug vanished down the hallway. “He thinks that’s a compliment.” She rolled toward the door. “I’ll be out in the car.”

“Take your lunch,” Kathy said. “And don’t forget to say goodbye to your father.”

“Goodbye, Trey,” Stacy intoned. “Be sure to make lots and lots of money today because God knows the four billion we already have isn’t enough.”

“In my country,” Kathy said, “we generally save our insults for the middle of the conversation. Greetings and farewells tend to be insult-free. A simple ‘enjoy your day’ will do quite nicely, please. And—call me old-fashioned—but everyone needs a hug in the morning.”

Stacy’s smiles were long gone. She turned the hostility she usually reserved for Trey onto Kathy, full power. “I don’t.” The conviction in her words was countered by the way she hesitantly glanced at Trey.

“That’s ridiculous.” Kathy softened her words with a smile that included Stacy in the joke. “I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t benefit from a hug.”

Stacy narrowed her eyes, and Trey felt himself tense. That was never a good sign. Stacy had a temper that was too much like his own. She had moods like his, too. In fact, she was just too damn much like him across the board, poor kid.

But to his surprise, she looked from Kathy to Trey and back again, and then smiled. But it wasn’t a nice smile. It was a calculating smile. Trey braced himself.

“So, okay,” his daughter said. “If everyone really does need a hug in the morning, then you guys go first.”

Trey looked at Kathy, who met his gaze with what he was sure was an equal look of shock.

Um…

Kathy blushed—what a surprise. And she laughed. “But I’m not family.”

“Oh,” Stacy said. “I see. So you didn’t really mean that everyone needs a hug. You meant, only some people need hugs. And I’m telling you that I’m not one of—”

“No,” Kathy said in her, I may sound friendly but I’m not taking any lip voice. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m actually in dire need of one, this being my first full day at a new job, not to mention the fact that I’m thousands of miles from my home and my family. I was simply expecting to get my share of hugs from you and Douglas, that’s all.”

“We’re hug-challenged,” Stacy told her. “Sutherlands are pros at the air kiss—we embrace with as little body contact as possible. And when we want to get turned on, we shake hands, mostly because it reminds us of making a business deal.”

Stacy crossed the kitchen and gave Trey an exaggerated air kiss about three feet from his cheek. “Enjoy your day,” she said tightly. “Try to limit yourself to only three hostile takeovers today, okay, Dad?” She grabbed her skateboard and went out the door. The screen door banged shut behind her.

“Oh, dear,” Kathy said. “I’m sorry, I—”

“She’s right.” It wasn’t even seven-thirty, and Trey already had a pounding headache. “As a family, we’re…not very affectionate.”

“Well,” Kathy said, “if that’s something—as a family—that you’re not particularly happy with, then it might serve you well to figure out a way to change. Air kisses certainly serve their purpose, but they shouldn’t be for family.” She pushed open the kitchen door and leaned out into the hallway. “Doug! Even if you’ve cleaned them one at a time, you’ve got to be done with your teeth by now. Hurry, or we’ll be late.”

Trey finished his coffee as he watched Kathy hustle his son out the door.

“See you tonight,” she called to him, polite to the bitter end.

Maybe Kathy could teach them all how to hug. The thought was remarkably appealing but completely absurd. It was more than likely they were all beyond hope.

But then Trey remembered. This very morning, after Kathy had been here less than one day, Stacy had smiled and Doug had spoken.

His new nanny was a miracle worker. If anyone could achieve the impossible, it would be Kathy Wind.

The light was on in Trey’s tower office.

Katherine could see it from the arched windows that looked out onto the center courtyard as she gently closed the door to Dougie’s bedroom.

Doug was, without a doubt, the least talkative child she’d ever met. Besides his two words at breakfast, she’d gotten one “yes” and two “no, thank yous” out of him all day. But he’d handed her a pile of books to read as bedtime stories—all about dogs, of course.

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