Dear Amy,

Thank you again for baby-sitting baby Dexter while I am away. I can’t tell you what a comfort it is to me to know that little Dexter will be in good hands. Plus just think, this will be great practice for you when you have your own family….

Also, I know that sharing such intimate quarters with my brother might prove difficult, but it is important to me that baby Dexter remain in familiar surroundings. By the way, while you are playing house with Nick—make sure you don’t fall for him. He isn’t the marrying kind. On second thought, maybe you are the one woman who can convince the confirmed bachelor to finally take the marriage plunge…!

XOXO Lola

Dear Reader,

Things get off to a great start this month with another wonderful installment in Cathy Gillen Thacker’s series THE DEVERAUX LEGACY. In Their Instant Baby, a couple comes together to take care of an adorable infant—and must fight their instant attraction. Be sure to look for a brand-new Deveraux story from Cathy when The Heiress, a Harlequin single title, is released next March.

Judy Christenberry is also up this month with a story readers have been anxiously awaiting. Yes, Russ Randall does finally get his happy ending in Randall Wedding, part of the BRIDES FOR BROTHERS series. We also have Sassy Cinderella from Kara Lennox, the concluding story in her memorable series HOW TO MARRY A HARDISON. And rounding out things is Montana Miracle, a stranded story with a twist from perennial favorite Mary Anne Wilson.

Next month begins a yearlong celebration as Harlequin American Romance commemorates its twentieth anniversary! We’ll have tons of your favorite authors with more of their dynamic stories. And we’re also launching a brand-new continuity called MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA that is guaranteed to please. Plus, be on the lookout for details of our fabulous and exciting contest!

Enjoy all we have to offer and come back next month to help us celebrate twenty years of home, heart and happiness!

Sincerely,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Cathy Gillen Thacker
Their Instant Baby

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy Gillen Thacker married her high school sweetheart and hasn’t had a dull moment since. Why, you ask? Well, there were three kids, various pets, any number of automobiles, several moves across the country, his and her careers, and sundry other experiences. But mostly, there was love and friendship and laughter, and lots of experiences she wouldn’t trade for the world.

You can find out more about Cathy and her books at www.cathygillenthacker.com, and you can write her c/o Harlequin Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017.

Who’s Who in the Deveraux Family

Tom Deveraux—The head of the family and CEO of the Deveraux shipping empire that has been handed down through the generations.

Grace Deveraux—Estranged from Tom for years, but back in town—after a personal tragedy—for some much-needed family support.

Chase Deveraux—The eldest son, and the biggest playboy in the greater Charleston area.

Mitch Deveraux—A chip off the old block and about to double the size of the family business via a business/marriage arrangement.

Dr. Gabe Deveraux—The “Goodest” Samaritan around. Any damsels in distress in need of the good doctor’s assistance…?

Amy Deveraux—The baby sister. She’s determined to reunite her parents.

Winnifred Deveraux Smith—Tom’s widowed sister. The social doyenne of Charleston, she’s determined never to marry. That’s not what she has in mind for her niece and nephews, though.

Herry Bowles—The butler. Distinguished, indispensable and devoted to his boss, Winnifred.

Eleanor—The Deveraux ancestor with whom the legacy of ill-fated love began.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

“Look, I don’t want to upset your sister—obviously she has enough on her plate right now—but I’ve got to be honest with you. I don’t think this is going to work,” Amy Deveraux told Nick Everton the moment she came face-to-face with him on his sister Lola’s doorstep. “Not on any twenty-four-hours-a-day, seven-days-a-week basis, anyway.”

For once in her life, Amy was going to be practical—instead of emotional. She was going to let her actions be ruled by her head, not her heart. And there was simply no way Amy could share such intimate quarters with this man and the adorable three month old baby Nick cradled awkwardly in his arms.

Forget that Nick Everton was the most drop-dead gorgeous, thirty-six-year-old guy Amy had ever seen. Forget that he was successful, smart, funny—according to Lola, anyway—and genuinely dependable and chivalrous. Or that he was kin to one of her best friends. Nick Everton was just too darn big and physically imposing. Amy guessed he was at least two-hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle on a six-foot-five frame. His shoulders were broad, his waist trim. And he looked great in his dark-blue suit and slate-blue shirt and tie.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one heading for the hills,” Nick said, as he propped a hiccuping Dexter against his shoulder and patted his nephew clumsily on the back. Nick’s light-gray eyes gleamed as he took Amy in with the same steady-but-curious appraisal Amy was giving him. “Me, being a guy and all…”

Amy forced her glance away from the wind-tossed strands of Nick’s ash-blond hair and ruggedly handsome face. “So maybe we could just split the baby-sitting duties, fifty-fifty,” Amy continued, determined to work this out rationally, in a way that was acceptable to all three of the adults involved.

Nick shrugged. “Sounds good to me,” he said, the corners of his masculine lips lifting in an enticing smile.

“There’s only one problem with that,” Lola interrupted as she came out to join them on the raised porch of her South Carolina low-country cottage. She shot an affectionate look at her brother before taking Dexter from him and ushering Nick and Amy inside. “Nick’s never baby-sat for Dexter, Amy. You have.”

Only once, Amy thought, when Lola’d had a doctor’s appointment. Dexter had been asleep the entire time. Amy hadn’t had to do a thing except watch over the little angel. “Nick and Dexter seem to be getting along now,” Amy pointed out as she tried to avoid the tantalizing sandalwood cologne clinging to his skin. Nick might not know much about how to hold a baby, as had been evidenced by his awkwardness with his nephew, but Dexter had cuddled against Nick’s powerful shoulders and chest willingly and instinctively.

“Nick also knows nothing about taking care of babies. In fact, it’s my guess my brother has never so much as changed a diaper,” Lola continued, stating her case matter-of-factly.

Nick shrugged and shoved both hands into the pockets of his trousers. A devilish look on his face, he braced a shoulder against the wall and smiled confidently at both Amy and his younger sister. “How hard can it be?”

Lola merely rolled her eyes. “And Dexter can get really fussy sometimes,” Lola continued firmly to Amy. “Nick would definitely have a hard time dealing with that.”

Nick grinned at Amy, not about to dispute the veracity of that particular observation. “So maybe it could be your turn then,” Nick said to Amy with a wink.

“I’m not kidding around here, Nick,” Lola told him sternly, commanding his attention once again. “It’s going to be traumatic enough for Dexter to be separated from me indefinitely. He needs both a ‘mother’ and a ‘father’ here with him while I’m gone.”

Abruptly Nick straightened and moved away from the wall. His expression was suddenly every bit as serious as his thirty-four-year-old sister’s. “Dexter has a mother and a father, Lola,” Nick reminded her quietly. He spoke as if carefully underscoring every word. “He has you and Chuck.”

Lola swallowed, her face suddenly becoming pinched and pale, as the upsetting events of the day—which had started by a visit from military personnel—caught up with her. She began to tremble. “What if something happens to one or both of us?” she whispered as she sank onto the nearest chair. “What happens to Dexter then?” she asked plaintively.

“Nothing will happen,” Nick promised her firmly. The tension between the two Evertons climbed.

Lola looked unconvinced as she bounced her baby boy on her thigh. “You more than anyone ought to know how unpredictable life can be,” Lola began nervously. “Sometimes things just happen.”

Like Lola’s husband’s unexpected injury in the line of duty, Amy thought sympathetically. But Lola’s older brother had no such sympathy for his sister, Amy noted, perplexed. Instead of agreeing with Lola, Nick Everton gave Lola a warning look, as if ordering her to say nothing more on that dark subject. More tension flowed between Lola and Nick, and the room fell silent, but for baby Dexter’s conversational gurgle. Lola and Nick were still staring at each other when the doorbell rang. Cradling Dexter closer, Lola hurried to the door. “That must be Jack Granger now,” she said.

Amy caught Nick’s puzzled glance and explained, “I asked Jack to come over. He’s a family friend and an attorney, and Lola wanted some papers drawn up before she got on the plane to Germany this afternoon. It’s not the kind of work Jack normally does—he’s a corporate lawyer for my family’s shipping company—but he agreed to help us out because there was literally no other way to get a will drawn up and notarized on such short notice.”

“Not to mention the guardianship papers,” Jack Granger said as he strode into the room. One of those guys who was all business all the time and not in the least bit emotional, Jack gestured at the woman accompanying him. “Everyone, this is Sue. She’s a notary public, and she’s going to attest that everything done here today is certified.”

Everyone said hello to Sue—a petite brunette with a ready smile—as Jack finished the introductions and began to set up for the document signing.

Amy wondered, Was it her imagination, or did the thirty-two-year-old Jack look even a bit more world-weary than usual today? Certainly he was as neatly and conservatively dressed as always in a white button-down shirt, gray suit and nondescript tie. But beneath the surface, he looked a little harried and distracted. And that wasn’t like Jack. Normally, nothing threw Jack Granger. He’d had such a tumultuous childhood on the wrong side of the tracks that his adult life, even when fraught with difficulty and stress, seemed easy. Which was, of course, why her father and brothers liked and trusted Jack so much. He never whined and complained. He was simply the guy who was there when you needed him. No questions asked. No demands of his own made.

Nick turned back to Lola with a questioning look. Lola said, “I want you and Amy to assume care of Dexter if anything happens to Chuck and or to me.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Amy said quickly.

“I certainly hope that’s true,” Lola said, her pretty face set determinedly, “but just in case, I want to make sure Dexter has legal documents dictating his care before I take off for Germany. It’s better to be safe than sorry. And every parent should have a will, spelling out their child’s future, in the event of a tragedy. I’ve been remiss not getting it done thus far. No longer.”

Amy exchanged glances with Nick. Neither spoke, but it seemed on one point they were in complete agreement. Lola had already had one heck of a day, learning her career-military husband had been injured in a Special Forces mission overseas and flown to Germany for surgery. Right now Chuck was stable, but they weren’t sure he would ever walk again, and he needed his wife by his side. Lola had to go. She didn’t want to take her baby to the military hospital overseas. So she had asked her best friend, Amy, and her brother to simultaneously care for Dexter in her absence. Both had agreed readily—they wanted to do their part as Dexter’s godparents—even if the christening officially naming them as such hadn’t taken place yet, and wouldn’t until Chuck returned to the States and could be present.

“Okay,” Nick said, nodding. “I agree, a will is a good idea. And since Dexter will need both a male and a female presence in his life, in the unlikely event anything happens to both you and Chuck, I’ll be glad to step in for you. I assume Amy here feels the same way.” Nick looked at Amy.

Her mood suddenly as serious as Nick’s, Amy nodded. “I’m honored you’ve asked me, Lola.”

“It seemed right,” Lola said quietly. “Since you were my labor coach and here when Dexter came into the world.”

“But as for the rest of it,” Nick continued gently, speaking to his little sister in a practical, reassuring manner, “that is where and how we care for Dexter in your absence during the next few days or weeks, I agree with Amy—we may need to rethink what you’ve planned. This house of yours is great, perfect for newlyweds like you and Chuck.”

Amy agreed wholeheartedly with that. The cozy country cottage had a combination kitchen, dining and living room, bathroom with claw-foot tub and pedestal sink, a small nursery and an equally tiny master bedroom with only a double bed. “But for two adults like me and Nick who are relative strangers,” Amy added gently, “the quarters are pretty tight. Even if you include the screened-in back porch. I’d gratefully offer my home as an alternative, but I’m still having the master bathroom remodeled. And the work won’t be finished for another three or four days.” She couldn’t take baby Dexter into that mess, exposing him to construction dust and paint fumes. It wouldn’t be safe.

“Maybe we should go to a hotel in Charleston, then,” Nick suggested. “Get adjoining private suites.”

Amy breathed a sigh of relief. That sounded so much better to her…so much less intimate than the current proposed circumstances!

“I know you can afford it,” Lola said, frowning up at her older brother once again. “With all the money you’ve made producing those syndicated television shows, you’re richer than most movie stars, but the answer to that is no, Nick. I stayed with Dexter in a hotel once and he hated it. And he also hated going for an overnight at someone else’s house. He knew he was in strange surroundings and he didn’t sleep a wink all night.”

“Maybe it’s time to broaden his horizons,” Nick countered amiably.

Lola sent Nick a censuring glance. “No. Dexter stays in his familiar environment. Trust me on this. He’s not used to being away from me.” Lola teared up again unexpectedly. Her chin quivered as she struggled to get control of her emotions, before she finished in a low, choked voice, “This separation is going to be hard enough on both of us as it is.”

Amy saw Lola’s point. Dexter was probably going to have a difficult time coping without his mommy, never mind being thrown into a completely unfamiliar environment. “You’re right, of course,” Amy told Lola gently as she patted her on the shoulder. Amy turned and gave Nick a quelling look—the same kind her mother had given her father before the two had separated and divorced years earlier. “I agree with your sister, Nick. Dexter will do better if we both stay here. And don’t worry.” Amy turned back to Lola, promising, “Nick and I will manage. We’re adults.” The important thing was the baby, she thought. They had to do what was right for Dexter.

Nick merely raised a brow, just as Amy’s father used to when he felt her mother had made a highly impractical suggestion.

“Well, now, that’s settled,” Jack Granger said. He laid the papers neatly out on the coffee table and pulled up two chairs—one for himself and one for Sue, his notary. He motioned for Nick, Lola and Amy to sit on the small sofa.

Lola perched on one end, Dexter still cradled in her arms. To give her friend and the baby enough elbow room, Amy had to scoot closer to Nick. He was warm and solid against her. Too warm and solid and male, Amy thought, as another sizzle of awareness swept through her.

“Okay,” Jack said, appearing impatient to get on with it. “Let’s have a look at these papers. And I’ll explain what they all mean before you sign them.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, the legalities were taken care of. Lola had gone over the emergency numbers and instructions she was leaving for Dexter’s care, and it was time to go. “You’re going to miss your plane if we don’t hurry,” Jack Granger said. He and Sue were driving Lola to the airport. “And there isn’t another airline seat available until tomorrow.”

“Okay.” The tears Lola had been holding welled up and spilled down her pretty cheeks. She bent to kiss Dexter goodbye. “Mommy loves you,” she whispered.

Dexter, not sure what was happening, screwed up his little face as if he, too, was about to cry. In an effort to avoid a calamity, Nick tenderly took Dexter from Lola’s arms. “Take good care of Chuck,” he told his sister in a low, gravelly voice as he cradled the baby awkwardly against his chest. “We’ll take good care of Dexter. And call the first chance—hell, every chance—you get. Amy and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“And you’re going to want to know how Dexter is doing, too,” Amy said.

Lola nodded. Too choked up for words, Lola kissed her baby one more time, hugged Amy and then Nick, and then rushed, sobbing openly now, out the door. For her infant son, the emotion emanating from his mother was too much. No sooner was she out the door when Dexter let out a wail that could be heard for three counties. Lola started back for the cottage. Jack Granger grabbed the young mother’s arm, shook his head and guided her implacably toward his car. Still crying uncontrollably, Lola got in. Dexter continued to wail. The sympathetic tears Amy had been holding back spilled down her cheeks. Nick turned back to Amy. His eyes, too, were suspiciously moist, but all he did was look at both her and Dexter and try to lighten the mood. “Lola was right, you know,” he said. “I’m a real novice, so for all our sakes, I hope you know a lot more than I do about taking care of babies.”

His joke was exactly what she needed to get herself back on track. Amy drew a deep breath and wiped away her tears with her fingertips. “I know some things. Not everything.” And probably, she thought, not nearly enough to make this baby-sitting experience smooth sailing.

“Well, that’s still probably more than I know, at least on a practical level.” Smiling as if he hadn’t a worry in the world, Nick lifted his hand and waved goodbye to his sister. When Jack’s car was out of sight, Nick turned back to Amy and shifted Dexter to a football hold. “So which one of us is going to take the first shift?” he asked casually.

Wishing she weren’t so physically attracted to Nick, their enforced quarters so small and cozy and hopelessly romantic, Amy raked her teeth across her lower lip. “That depends.” She searched his pewter-gray eyes. “Have you really never changed a diaper?”

Half of his mouth crooked up in an enticing smile. “I’ve seen it done. Does that count?”

Amy rolled her eyes. She could see this baby-sitting mission was going to be a laugh a minute. Especially if it turned out that Nick wasn’t exaggerating his lack of prowess with infants. Amy shrugged and said, “Depends on how handy you are with the tabs on the disposable diapers, I guess.”

Nick grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Amy. “There’s one way to find out, isn’t there?”

NICK WAS PUTTING on a good front, but the bald truth was, his heart was breaking for his sister, too. This whole situation had to be torture for her. Lola loved Chuck every bit as much as Nick had loved Glenna, and Lola’s husband having been badly hurt so soon after they’d married and had a child, must be killing his younger sister inside. But there was a difference, Nick warned himself sternly. Lola’s child was fine. And though Chuck was very seriously injured, he did have a chance to recover and resume his life. The three of them could still be a family, provided Chuck made it through the surgery ahead of him and went on to recover as fully as they all hoped. Even if Chuck ended up in a wheelchair, his life forever changed, the three of them could be a family.

The same had not been true for Nick.

By the time he had found out what had happened, his fate had been sealed. His happy family life had come to an end. There had been no going back. And his heart and soul had turned to stone. Except where Lola and her family were concerned.

He loved them with every fiber of his being. Because he knew they were all the family he would ever have. He wasn’t going through the loss again.

But Amy Deveraux didn’t know that, because Lola hadn’t told her about Nick’s past. And that was the way Nick wanted it. He’d had enough pity to last him a lifetime. What he wanted now was a normal life, and any satisfaction his business dealings could bring him. That was it. That was all.

Unlike Amy Deveraux, who, according to Lola, was still looking for that special man who would turn her life around and make everything new and exciting and wonderful.

The kind of man he could never be again, no matter how much time elapsed.

“Chuck is going to be fine,” Nick continued, knowing he had to say something to reassure Amy and Dexter, who was still wailing, as they went into the nursery. Hoping a dry diaper would make Dexter feel better and stop crying, Nick set Dexter down on the changing table just as he had seen Lola do. Keeping one hand firmly on Dexter’s middle, Nick reached for a disposable diaper. Also as he had seen Lola do, he opened the clean diaper and slid it beneath Dexter. He ripped open the tabs, saw that Dexter was just wet, and with some difficulty removed the old diaper and dropped it into the plastic-lined diaper pail beside the bed. “Our military doctors are the best in the world. They’ll see that he will walk and even run again.”

“You don’t know that,” Amy protested quietly, her worry apparent. She cleaned Dexter’s diaper area with a baby wipe, and then sprinkled cornstarch powder on his lower half. “Sometimes families don’t get their happily-ever-afters, Nick.”

“But Lola and Chuck and Dexter will,” Nick said firmly, aware he had no way of promising that. But he also knew it was important the two of them think that way, just the same. Finished fastening the tabs, he picked up Dexter. To his relief, the diaper, with its cartoon figures on the front, stayed in place, albeit somewhat loosely. Nick turned the momentarily subdued Dexter around and saw smaller cartoon figures on his backside. “Well, that’s interesting,” he said. Before, the bigger cartoon figures had been on the back of Dexter’s diaper, the smaller ones on the front.

Amy peered at him from beneath a fringe of long dark eyelashes. “You realize you put that on backwards, don’t you?”

Nick shrugged and handed Dexter over to her. “I’m sure you’ll agree that’s the least of our problems right now.”

In fact, the way Nick saw it, his main problem was not going to be which side of the disposable diaper went where, but how he was going to survive a week or more in the company of Dexter’s other, very sexy and very beautiful godparent. Nick had been alone with Amy Deveraux for barely five minutes, and already he found himself wanting, quite badly, to take her to bed. Unusual, to say the least. These days when desire hit him, it was usually fleeting and short-lived. He had the feeling that would not be the case with Amy. No, he’d be remembering her pretty face and cloud of dark-mahogany hair for days and weeks to come. Not to mention those wide-set turquoise eyes, narrow elegant nose, high delicate cheekbones, soft luscious lips and cute stubborn chin.

Dexter squirmed and whimpered once again. Amy put him a little higher against her shoulder, so he was able to fuss and look over her shoulder at the room around them simultaneously. As she gently stroked the infant’s back with the palm of her hand, Amy looked at Nick curiously. “Do you have any idea when Dexter here last ate?”

Trying not to notice the way Amy’s cotton shirt had ridden up above the waistband of her khaki shorts, revealing several inches of flat, sexy abdomen and silky golden skin, Nick shook his head. Tearing his gaze from the slender but curvy figure visible beneath her loose-fitting knee-length shorts, he shifted his weight to ease the pressure at the front of his slacks and said, “He hasn’t had a bottle since I’ve been here, which is at least two hours.”

“Then it’s probably time for him to be fed again,” Amy decided. She walked toward the kitchen, her hips swaying so gently and provocatively as she moved it was all Nick could do not to groan out loud. Damn, but it was going to be a long week. Doing his best to return his mind to the task at hand, Nick said, “Lola left some breast milk in the door of the fridge. And there’s more in the freezer when that runs out.”

Amy handed Dexter to Nick, then moved quickly around the kitchen. Referring often to a handwritten set of instructions on the counter, she warmed Dexter’s bottle in the microwave, then gave it a good shake and tested the liquid on the back of her wrist. Satisfied, she took the bottle to Nick, who was leaning against the counter with Dexter cradled in one arm. He put the nipple to Dexter’s mouth. Dexter spit it out, turned his head away and cried even more loudly.

Nick and Amy’s subsequent tries to feed Dexter proved no more successful than the first. It didn’t seem to matter if they were sitting or standing, indoors or out. Rocking him or sitting perfectly still. Nick’s nephew was having none of it. Probably, Nick thought, because Dexter kept looking up, expecting to see his mommy’s face, and instead, saw him or Amy. Bottom line, as far as Dexter was concerned, it wasn’t the usual cozy breast-feeding experience he was accustomed to. And he was mighty ticked off about it. Ticked off enough to go on a hunger strike.

“Now what do we do?” Amy asked anxiously, turning her face to Nick.

Nick sighed. He could think of only one solution. “I guess there’s no helping it.” He looked at Amy seriously. “You’re going to have to take off your shirt.”

Chapter Two

Amy was holding Dexter when Nick made his suggestion, and now she stared at Nick, her pulse taking on a rapid jumping beat. “You’re joking, right?” He looked so handsome and self-assured, lounging against the back of the sofa with his jacket off, his tie loosened and his shirtsleeves rolled up to just beneath the elbow. So big and strong and undeniably sexy that all sorts of romantic thoughts and fantasies came to mind. Fantasies Amy knew she should not be having!

Nick shook his head, managing to look even more at home at his sister’s small country cottage. “Dexter is used to being fed at Lola’s breast.”

Heat began to center in Amy’s chest and move outward in mesmerizing waves. “Well, I can’t breast-feed him!” Amy glared at Nick. “I’m not pregnant or nursing. I don’t have any milk!”

Nick gave Amy an exceedingly patient look, apparently oblivious to the havoc he was causing in her. “I know that,” he said as he gave her an affable smile and somehow avoided looking at her breasts. “But I was thinking about something that was on a television show I produce—Nature’s Kingdom. Have you seen it?”

“Yes,” Amy said cautiously, aware that being closed in with Nick and the baby this way was putting all her senses in overdrive. Making her wonder what it would be like to have a husband and an infant in her life. She frowned and continued walking Dexter back and forth. “It’s wonderful.”

“Thanks.” His eyes lit with pleasure. “Anyway, they did a show on puppies who’d been separated from their mother. The new owners comforted the puppies by putting a hot-water bottle covered with a towel with the mother’s scent on it next to the puppies. They all snuggled up to it instinctively and it worked to comfort them. So,” Nick continued, still approaching the problem logically, “I suggest we try to mimic Dexter’s usual mealtime experience as best we can. Therefore—” Nick’s glance slid over her body, head to toe, warming Amy even further “—since your skin is obviously a lot smoother and silkier and your body a lot, uh, curvier than mine, I suggest you do the actual feeding, at least this first time, as we try to help him with the transition from his mom’s breast-feeding.” Nick eased Dexter from Amy’s arms and cuddled the squalling infant close. “Lola left a robe in the bathroom on a hook on the door.”

Aware her knees suddenly were as wobbly and uncertain as the rest of her, Amy eased past Nick and Dexter. “You really think this will work?”

Nick shrugged and continued holding Dexter awkwardly against his hard-muscled chest. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.”

Had they been anywhere else, doing anything else, Amy would have told Nick Everton exactly what he could do with his suggestion that she appear in a state of undress in his presence. But unable to bear Dexter’s hiccupy sobs a second longer, Amy slipped into the bathroom and did as Nick proposed, pulling off her lemon-yellow shirt and donning the robe. When she came back out, Nick was standing next to the rocking chair, Dexter in his arms. His eyes seemed to darken at the sight of her, and he motioned her to sit.

Her mouth dry, Amy did.

Nick leaned down and put Dexter in Amy’s arms. With fingers that trembled, Amy tried to discreetly open her robe. Given the way Dexter was still flailing his little limbs and crying, it was impossible to hold on to him and do that simultaneously.

Realizing she was attempting an impossible task, Nick rushed to the rescue. “Hang on. I’ll help you,” he said, regarding her matter-of-factly. He parted the terry-cloth lapels, revealing Amy’s throat and neck, and the uppermost curves of her breasts above the lacy transparent demi-bra. There was a moment of awareness between Nick and Amy as she noted he had just seen everything there was to see. Flushing, Amy turned her attention away from her tautening nipples and the rapacious gleam in Nick’s eyes, and back to the baby. Still attempting to soothe Dexter, she used both her hands to cuddle the infant close to her and settle his head against her chest.

Amy saw immediately that Nick had been right about one thing. As soon as Dexter’s head contacted the soft upper swell of Amy’s breast and the feel of her bare skin, he paused, blinking, his tears soaking through to her bra. And although he had stopped crying uncontrollably, Dexter still seemed confused.

“I don’t think he knows what to do,” Amy murmured.

“Then I’ll show him,” Nick said softly, gallantly ignoring the way Amy’s lacy demi-bra was now clinging wetly to her breast.

His touch both incredibly comforting and precise, Nick leaned down and guided the baby bottle to the infant’s mouth once again, murmuring soothingly all the while. Dexter blinked and looked up at Nick with his big, baby blues then sucked on the bottle half-heartedly, a suspicious look on his cherubic face. Nick backed away, still murmuring soothing words, and then three-month-old Dexter looked up at Amy again and began to drink from his bottle in earnest.

Amy, who’d been baby-sitting from the age of twelve, took it from there, while Nick grabbed his cell phone and laptop computer and stepped out to the screened-in porch to do a little business and check for messages. Not once did he turn back and look at Amy and Dexter, and for that, Amy was very glad. She was still unbearably aroused from the close, albeit meaningless contact with Nick, and she didn’t want to know if he felt the same potent physical attraction. Because Amy wasn’t looking for a fling. She was looking for a deeply satisfying relationship of the heart. One that led to marriage and children of her own. Lola had said little to Amy about her older brother except that she adored him and despaired that Nick’s future did not and never would include marriage and kids.

Which of course immediately struck him off Amy’s list, despite any attraction she felt for the sexy single man.

Twenty minutes later Dexter had finished the bottle of Lola’s breast milk and was sleeping soundly in Amy’s arms. Figuring she had better put him in his crib to finish out his nap while she could, Amy stood ever so slowly up with the baby in her arms and made her way cautiously to the nursery. She placed Dexter on his back in the crib, then went to change out of Lola’s robe and into the yellow shirt.

Apparently finished with his business calls and e-mail, Nick was waiting for her when she came back out to the living room, a worried look on his face. “What’s wrong?” Amy asked immediately, not really all that sure she wanted to hear the answer. She and Nick had been baby-sitting his nephew for only an hour or so, and already she was exhausted from simultaneously trying to do right by Dexter and fight her attraction to Nick. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel by the time Lola and Chuck returned, if this kind of emotional whirlwind kept up.

Nick inclined his head in the direction of the kitchen. “By my calculations, there’re only a few days’ worth of breast milk in Lola’s freezer.”

“We can buy formula at the grocery store and use that until Lola gets back.” Amy paused at the concern on his face. “You don’t think Dexter’s going to like it, do you.”

“Probably not, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The more pressing question at the moment is—” he held her gaze “—how the three of us are going to manage in such tight quarters.”

Amy told herself it was tension causing her heart to pound and her mouth to go dry, not his proximity. “I think it’ll be okay,” she fibbed as she brushed past him and headed for the refrigerator. Ignoring his frank appraisal of her as they talked, Amy pulled out a cold can of vegetable juice and popped the top. Right about now, she could use a healthy pick-me-up. Anything to calm her nerves and make the overall situation seem more manageable. “After all—” Amy continued, trying not to feel self-conscious in her snug-fitting, long-sleeved yellow shirt with the Amy’s Complete Redecorating Service logo, khaki shorts, sneakers and socks “—it’s not like you and I are going to be with each other twenty-four hours a day.” She offered Nick a bracing smile. “I am still going to have to go to work.” Which would offer a lot of personal satisfaction, as well as distraction from Nick’s sexy presence. “And Lola said you are going to be conducting some business here in Charleston, too.”

Nick’s expression turned thoughtful as his gaze continued to drift over her hair, face and lips with disturbing thoroughness before returning to her eyes. “That’s right,” he said, moving closer, every inch of him the hard, indomitable male. “I have an idea for a new syndicated television show I want to pursue.”

Amy took another swallow of chilled vegetable juice. “And I have a decorating job that has to be done right away for my aunt Winnifred.” Amy was embarrassed to feel a little excess juice on the corners of her lips. She paused to wipe it off with her fingertips, damning the fact that Nick had noticed—and tracked—that movement, too. “So most likely, you’ll be here with Dexter while I’m off doing my thing,” Amy continued with an airy confidence she didn’t begin to feel, “and then I’ll be here with him while you’re off doing your thing.” During the day, they could rarely, if ever, cross paths, Amy reassured herself optimistically, as she took another long, bracing swallow of juice. If she was lucky, she continued bolstering herself firmly, and Nick’s work included some evening jaunts, the same would be true of the majority of their nights, as well.

“Actually, speaking of work…there’s something you could help me with,” Nick said, a hopeful expression on his face.

Amy’s brow furrowed at the abrupt change in Nick’s mood. She didn’t know anything about producing television shows. “What?” she asked him curiously, as she glanced into the utility area on the back porch to see if a load of wash was done. It wasn’t.

Nick flashed her a winning smile and focused on her flushed face and tousled hair. “Like getting me an introduction to your mother right away.”

NICK SAW AMY’S SMILE fade and her eyes go dark almost instantaneously. Then and there he knew he’d made a mistake. “My mother has an agent who handles queries,” Amy said.

“Her agent isn’t returning any calls about any opportunities right now,” Nick said.

Hectic color filled Amy’s cheeks as she folded her arms defiantly. “That’s because my mother doesn’t want to work right now,” Amy explained with exaggerated patience.

Nick moved closer, ignoring the apple-blossom fragrance clinging to Amy’s dark, tousled hair and golden skin. This was no time to be noticing how sexy her slim legs were, or how bare, or wondering how they would feel wrapped around his waist. Amy was his sister’s best friend, Dexter’s other godparent, for heaven’s sake. Not to mention the daughter of a television superstar he would very much like to do business with. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked by a lust that was likely to be as short-lived as his time in South Carolina. He didn’t need to be recalling how beautiful and full and enticing her breasts were beneath the transparent lace of her low-cut bra, not unless he wanted to forget everything important and concentrate on getting her into his arms and into his bed.

“Which is why,” Amy continued with a haughty toss of her hair, exasperation tinging her low voice, “my mother came home to Charleston. She doesn’t want to be bothered by you and every other relentless television executive, bent on getting her to listen to his or her pitch of what she should do next. She wants to take her time, relax first, recuperate from her years and years of getting up every morning at 3:00 a.m., before moving on to the next phase of her life.”

Nick could imagine there were other reasons Grace Deveraux had gone into seclusion. Grace’s being fired from one of the network morning news and entertainment programs in New York City had been both humiliating and unexpected—at least as far as the viewing public was concerned. Grace had been a fixture in homes across America for the past fifteen years. People had watched her as they drank their morning coffee, dressed for work and got their kids ready for school. Finding out the network had given Grace and her equally popular male cohost at Rise and Shine, America! the ax had infuriated the duo’s many fans.

What Grace obviously hadn’t realized, however, was that this was no time for her to go into hiding. With sentiment so strong, now was the time for her to move on. And Nick knew this with every ounce of business acumen he possessed. “All I want is a few moments of your mother’s time,” he persisted, as aware that he was further infuriating and disappointing Grace’s daughter as he was that business was the one pleasure left in his life.

Amy glared at him. “So, call her agent again.”

Nick studied her. Was it his imagination, or did Amy have the ripest, most kissable lips he had ever seen? The softest, most feminine hands? “You resent me for even asking you to do this, don’t you?”

Amy’s expression turned fiercely independent and protective once again as she set her empty can aside, leaned back against the kitchen counter and braced her hands on either side of her. “What do you think?”

Nick shrugged and moved a bit closer. A little show of temper was not going to deter him. Ignoring the feelings of desire generated by her proximity, he continued his honest appraisal of her actions in an effort to bring her around to what was best here, not just for him, but for all concerned. “I think,” he told her calmly, ignoring the flash of resentment in those turquoise eyes, “that you don’t have your mother’s best interests at heart.”

Amy released a short, impatient breath and continued to hold his eyes like a warrior princess in battle. “Maybe it’s in my mother’s best interest not to talk to you,” Amy shot back fiercely, oblivious to how the way she was standing lifted her breasts and pulled her shirt even more tightly across her alluring curves.

Nick studied her upturned face. “You’re telling me Grace is happy, letting her television career end this way?”

“She hasn’t said it’s over,” Amy countered stiffly.

Deciding it was better to tell it like it was than spare Amy and her mother’s feelings at this point, he warned point-blank, “Your mother’s career will take yet another brutal blow if she doesn’t take advantage of the public sentiment in her favor right now. Sure, your mother can wait six months or a year, but the viewing public tends to have a very short attention span. In that amount of time, the momentum she has now will have faded. Her choices will be far fewer. I don’t want to see that happen to her.” Especially, Nick thought, given how hard Grace Deveraux had worked to get where she was today. “Do you?”

Finally Nick’d hit a nerve with Amy. She realized he was telling her the truth. She pressed her lips together. “Why do you care so much?”

Nick shrugged, the answer simple. “Because I’m in the business of producing television shows for syndication. And I want your mother to have the kind of recognition and opportunity she’s due.”

Amy sighed in exasperation and shook her head. She turned her glance away from Nick as the washer abruptly stopped running. “I thought my days of dealing with this were over.” Amy went out to the washer, which was located against the wall on the screened-in back porch, and lifted the lid.

Nick followed her. “What do you mean?”

Amy hooked a foot around a wicker basket on the floor and tugged it closer to the machine. She reached into the tub and began pulling out damp bed linens, pausing to grimace as the sheet got hopelessly wrapped around the agitator in the center, before asking rhetorically, “Do you have any idea what it was like for me growing up? I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without someone asking me for a favor related to my mother!” New color—whether from anger or exertion, Nick couldn’t tell—flooded Amy’s cheeks as she flung the first handful of wet laundry into the basket on the floor. As she went back up on tiptoe and reached deep into the tub of the machine, Amy’s shorts rode higher, giving him a glimpse of her smooth, silky thighs.

Still unaware of the effect she was having on him, Amy drew a deep aggravated breath and continued enlightening Nick. “My Girl Scout leader wanted to know if our troop could get on the network news show to promote our annual cookie sale. The private high school I attended wanted to do a fund-raiser for a new gymnasium with my mother as the main draw. Even my first clients in the redecorating business called me only because they thought they might somehow get an in with my mother.”

Nick sympathized with Amy as he reached over to help her extract the wet tangled laundry. “I expect it is hard, having a famous parent.” Especially for someone who seemed to feel things as deeply as Amy did. Amy would not have simply been able to blow off being taken advantage of. No, she would have felt it deeply, and continued hurting over it, for years.

“But a lot of people would have given anything to be in your shoes,” Nick continued.

“The feeling was mutual, believe me,” Amy said as she plucked a mesh bag full of wooden clothespins from the shelf above the drier.

They regarded each other in tense silence. Then Amy picked up the basket and carried it toward the door that led to the backyard. His innate gallantry coming to the fore, Nick took the basket, leaving her with just the mesh bag of pins, and moved ahead to hold the door for her. “I don’t suppose your parents were famous,” Amy said.

Nick shook his head as he set the basket down on the grass and picked a pillowcase off the laundry pile. He shook it out, then handed it to Amy and watched as she pinned it to the clothesline. “They were—are—Gypsy souls who had no interest in settling down or sticking with anything for very long,” Nick said.

Amy accepted a second pillowcase from Nick. “Where are they now?”

Nick shrugged, his face becoming closed, unreadable. “Neither Lola nor I know,” he replied, trying not to feel embarrassed about that as he put the best spin he could on the untenable situation. “The last Lola and I heard, which was about two years ago, our folks were traveling around Europe, working whenever, wherever the spirit moved them.”

Amy’s eyes widened as Nick handed her one end of a damp bottom sheet. “They don’t keep in touch?”

Nick shook his head as he and Amy shook out the wrinkles in the sheet and then hung it neatly on the clothesline. “They don’t even know Lola had a baby.” Which was, Nick ruminated, something that had hurt his younger sister tremendously. But he also knew that had he and Lola managed to track down their parents and tell them the news, and then the nomadic pair decided not to come to see the baby, just as they had earlier refused to return to the States and meet Lola’s husband-to-be or attend her wedding, his sister would have been hurt even more. So he and Lola had mutually agreed to leave well enough alone this time and just see their parents when—and if—their parents wanted to see them. You can’t get blood from a stone…and you couldn’t get familial love from parents who had none to give.

“But you and Lola are close,” Amy said as Nick handed her the final sheet.

Nick nodded, very glad about that. “We’ve always taken care of each other,” he said. It was through his relationship with his sister that he had learned how to love and nurture, and be loved and nurtured in return.

“She’s lucky she has you.”

“And I her,” Nick said. And he meant it.

“But back to your mother…” And that introduction he wanted.

“The answer is still no,” Amy said.

Nick shrugged, not really surprised, given Amy’s feelings about people using her familial connections as an in—to anyone. He smiled, not the least deterred. “Then I guess I’ll have to find another way to achieve what I want, won’t I?” he said.

Chapter Three

While Dexter napped and Nick worked out of his sister’s cottage, Amy headed for her afternoon appointment. As usual, her aunt’s handsome British butler, Harry Bowles, answered the door. Harry had been with Winnifred since shortly after Winnifred’s husband had been killed. He and Winnifred were so close they could read each other’s mind. In Amy’s estimation, only two things kept them apart. Harry’s age—he was five years younger than Winnifred—and Harry’s station in life. He had spent his entire adult life working for the wealthy. She was one of those to-the-manor-born. If the two did decide to run off together someday, as Amy suspected both Harry and her aunt Winnifred had at one time or another been tempted to do, the repercussions would continue for years. Because if there was one thing the residents of Charleston, South Carolina, loved, it was a good love story—or a scandal. As had been evidenced by the retelling of her long-lost great-aunt Eleanor’s romantic debacle, that had been fodder for the gossips for years. And thanks to the sudden reemergence of the long-presumed-dead Eleanor Deveraux just the week before, it still was.

Amy breezed through the portal of the historic mansion in time to see her beloved aunt emerge from the front parlor. Pretty and elegantly dressed as always, the social doyenne of Charleston glided toward Amy, her arms outstretched, as Harry excused himself wordlessly and disappeared.

Amy paused to hug the dark-haired woman. “Hi, Aunt Winnifred,” Amy said, aware that, as always, just being with her aunt made her happy.

“Amy, darling—” Winnifred squeezed her back affectionately “—I’m so glad you could fit us in this quickly.”

“Where’s Great-Aunt Eleanor?” Amy asked as she shifted her oversize canvas briefcase from her shoulder to her hands. Eleanor Deveraux was the reason for Amy’s visit. The elegant eighty-year-old woman had been found in the historic district, with a sprained ankle, delirium related confusion, brought on by her fever and illness, and the beginnings of pneumonia, and admitted to Charleston Hospital by Amy’s brother, Gabe, a critical-care doctor there. At the time, no one in the Deveraux family had any inkling that the genteel elderly Jane Doe was related to them. Nor had they known, until Eleanor’s identity was revealed by Charleston private investigator Harlan Decker, that Eleanor Deveraux was still alive—since everyone had been told Eleanor had died of a broken heart many years before. As Eleanor had recovered and begun to trust them, the mental confusion that they had first mistaken for amnesia had lifted, and Eleanor finally acknowledged her true identity, shocking everyone.

“Has she stopped resisting the idea of letting us take care of her permanently?” Amy asked. Although she had few choices, Eleanor had been adamant about not being a burden to her relatives.

Winnifred shook her head, looking distressed. “I’m hoping if Eleanor stays here long enough, she’ll let me take care of her from here on out. But right now,” Winnifred confessed sadly, “she’s only agreed to stay until her ankle heals enough for her to get around on her own again.”

Aunt Winnifred led the way to the servants’ quarters, which were the only bedrooms on the first floor.

The door to one tiny room was open. Harry was seated in a chair next to the narrow bed.

“So this is where you disappeared to,” Amy teased. She’d wondered where Harry had been off to in such a hurry. Usually he hung around to talk a little with her, too.

Harry winked at Amy. “Rude of me, I know, but I had some serious business to attend to.”

“So I see,” Amy murmured back just as playfully, while Winnifred grinned, shaking her head at what was still going on.

Harry was holding a hand of playing cards. Eleanor was propped up against the pillows. Her silver hair coiled atop her head, she was wearing one of Winnifred’s elegant satin bed jackets. Eleanor’s color was better than the last time Amy had stopped by to see her, at the hospital, but you could still tell from the gaunt angles of Eleanor’s face that she had been sick.

Eleanor smiled at Amy and Winnifred, then turned her attention back to Harry. Spreading her cards out in front of her, she announced triumphantly, “Gin!”

Harry shook his head ruefully, then shot Eleanor an admiring glance. “You really must tell me your secret someday.”

Eleanor smiled coyly and remained mum.

Harry stood and looked at Winnifred. “Tea and cookies for three?” he asked formally as he straightened his tie.

“Thank you, Harry.” Winnifred smiled as she pulled up another chair beside the bed and motioned for Amy to sit in the one Harry had vacated. “That would be lovely.”

Once again all business, Harry exited quietly. But Amy wasn’t fooled. She had seen the brief but intimate looks he and her aunt Winnifred had given each other. There was more going on between them than they wanted anyone to know, or she would eat her shoe.

“I’ve asked Amy to help us redecorate your new quarters to your liking,” Winnifred told Eleanor.

Eleanor’s eyes took on a troubled gleam and she held up a staying hand. “My dear Winnifred, I’ve told you that redecorating the carriage house on my behalf isn’t necessary. This room is lovely and I’m not planning to be here that long. Just another few days.”

It was also claustrophic, Amy thought, looking at the windowless walls. So much so that no one had slept in any of the little rooms of the servants’ quarters for years. Even Harry had quarters upstairs on the second floor.

“Where are you going to go?” Winnifred asked plaintively. “You’re supposed to stay off your feet as much as possible until your ankle heals completely, and Gabe said that will be another week at the very least.”

Eleanor was silent. She turned her glance to the wheelchair and walker next to her bed, then looked down at the ice-blue damask coverlet across her lap. “I think I’ve brought enough hardship to this family already, without adding any more,” Eleanor said in her cultured voice.

“If you’re talking about what happened years ago,” Amy returned gently, “everyone in the family has agreed it doesn’t matter to any of us what happened then.”

“I don’t know how you can say that.” Eleanor speared Amy with a troubled gaze. “I was involved in an illicit love affair. I brought shame to the family name and caused the death of someone I loved very much. My entire family was miserable in the wake of the tragedy, and everyone blamed me.”

“If you’re talking about the curse Dolly Lancaster hired a Gypsy to put on you and Captain Nyquist—” Amy said, but was interrupted by Eleanor.

“As well as the entire Deveraux family! There hasn’t been a happy marriage or an enduring relationship since.” Eleanor looked at Winnifred. “Your husband died within a year of your marriage. Grace and Tom divorced.”

“But the streak of bad romantic luck seems to be turning around at long last,” Amy was all too happy to point out as she leaned forward urgently. “Chase married Bridgett, Mitch married Lauren and Gabe married Maggie. I’m the only one of my parents children left unattached.”

“And that is going to change, too,” Eleanor promised.

Amy smiled. Her great-aunt had been encouraging romance—secretly—for years. They had just thought it was either her ghost or someone pretending to be her, who had been doing the matchmaking for the Deveraux heirs. Amy narrowed her eyes at Eleanor. “How do you know?” she asked.

Eleanor lifted one delicate hand. “Lately I’ve just had a knack for predicting such things,” Eleanor said.

“Or a knack for matchmaking,” Winnifred amended dryly. Winnifred looked at Eleanor. “That was you, wasn’t it, who was leaving the notes and sneaking in and out of both my home here and the Gathering Street mansion where you and Douglas Nyquist used to meet.”

Eleanor blushed, looking guilty as charged. “Even though I was no longer part of the family,” she explained sweetly, “I’ve always tried to keep watch over the entire Deveraux clan.”

“I understand why you would want to be close to family,” Amy ventured, figuring now was as good a time as any to get all her queries answered. She looked at her great-aunt closely. “What I don’t understand is why you let everyone believe you were dead all these years.”

Eleanor shrugged and twin spots of color appeared in her cheeks. “It seemed easier for me to disappear and be on my own than to have everyone else linked to the debacle flee Charleston in mortification.” Eleanor paused, tears of remorse glistening in her faded-blue eyes. “I thought my ‘death’ would end the misery, but it didn’t. The scandal only seemed to get worse. And since I made my mistakes, no one connected to me who stayed in Charleston has remained unscathed. That’s why I stayed away from the family all these years. And would have continued to do so, had I not gotten hurt and you not figured out who I was. Because that was how I thought I could best protect the rest of you from the pain I had already suffered.”

Amy thought Eleanor’s motives had been noble, if misguided. “But now the secret’s out,” Amy said pragmatically, “don’t you think you should stay with us from now on?”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Eleanor said simply as Harry came back into the room carrying a large tray with a silver tea service and several plates of snacks.

“Your money is gone?” Winnifred guessed.

Eleanor nodded reluctantly, the embarrassed color in her cheeks deepening. “I have less than a thousand dollars in the bank, which is why I have to leave as soon as possible.”

“To go where?” Winnifred asked, plainly vexed. “And do what?”

Eleanor shrugged and averted her eyes. “I’ll get by.”

“You need to do more than that,” Winnifred said sternly. “You need a job.”

Amy gaped at her aunt Winnifred. As did Eleanor. What could an eighty-year-old woman with a bum ankle do? But clearly, the fifty-year-old Winnifred had plans.

“I’m in need of a good social secretary,” Winnifred said firmly, apparently not about to take no for an answer. “So, Eleanor, how’s your penmanship?”

IN SHORT ORDER, it was agreed that Eleanor would stay on indefinitely with Winnifred and hand-address the invitations and place cards for Winnifred’s many parties in exchange for her room and board. The long-unused carriage house behind Winnifred’s mansion would provide sleeping quarters and an office for Eleanor.

“I’ve been meaning to make the carriage house into a guest house for years, anyway,” Winnifred said airily as she and Amy entered the old structure, which had been used for storing her antiques.

“Why haven’t you?” Amy asked.

Abruptly Winnifred looked very sad. “Because I didn’t want anyone here. This was where my husband and I stayed when we were newlyweds, before he went off to serve overseas.”

Winnifred’s husband had been killed a year into their marriage. She had lived with her parents in the carriage house until they had died and then moved into the mansion. “But it’s time it became something other than a source of my memories,” Winnifred said thoughtfully.

“Does this mean you’re ready to move on—romantically, too?” Amy asked.

Winnifred’s expression became closed. “I’ll never marry again,” she said. “You know that.”

Except, Amy thought, if she was correct in her observations, her aunt already loved someone—Harry—even if Winnifred wouldn’t yet admit it to herself. “So,” Amy said, getting out her notepad as she realized time was really getting away from her. She was supposed to be back at the cottage in less than an hour, as per her baby-sitting agreement with Nick. She smiled at Winnifred. “What did you have in mind?”

DEXTER WOKE UP grumpy from his nap, and he stayed grumpy, no matter what Nick did. Although Nick had gotten lucky when he’d figured out how Dexter, who was used to being breast-fed, might want to take his bottle, he had no idea what to do with a cranky baby who’d already had a nap, had his diaper changed and had no interest in eating again yet. So Nick tried to remember some of the tips he’d seen on various television shows he’d produced.

He walked Dexter outside. He rocked him inside. He sang to him. He cuddled him. He put him down on a soft blanket on the floor. He waved toys in front of his face. He made silly sounds, even sillier faces. He soothed, he pleaded, he begged until he was up and walking the floors with the baby and close to shedding a few tears himself.

And it was then, Nick noted with resentment and relief, that Amy walked in the front door. She was lugging her canvas briefcase and several large wallpaper and carpet sample books. She looked harried and tired, and it was quickly apparent from the indignant scowl on her face that she blamed Nick for Dexter’s crying spell. Dropping her belongings in a heap, she rushed to Dexter and scooped him out of Nick’s arms.

Dexter quieted immediately as he gazed adoringly into Amy’s face. Nick didn’t know whether to be consoled or annoyed that she so easily did what he had just spent more than an hour trying to accomplish. “Obviously he likes you more,” Nick said with a sigh, recalling—without wanting to—a similar situation in which he had failed a child, badly. Nick clenched his jaw. “So maybe you should take care of him from now on.” Judging by the way his nephew was behaving, it would certainly be better for Dexter.

Amy’s chin jutted out stubbornly. She angled her head at him, looking both pretty and furious. “I don’t think so,” she said.

“You can see I’m lousy at it,” Nick argued, feeling exasperated. For reasons that were both egotistical and familial, he might not want to be honest in his assessment of his abilities regarding child care—but for all concerned, he knew he had to be. He couldn’t afford to let Dexter down, especially with Lola and Chuck both overseas. Giving his nephew the best possible care was the least Nick could do under the circumstances.

“Oh, pshaw. That’s a lame excuse if ever I heard one,” Amy said as she walked Dexter back and forth.

Nick tried not to notice the intuitive way she had cuddled Dexter against the pillowy softness of her breasts, or how gently and tenderly she held him. No doubt about it, Amy would make an excellent—and very loving and caring—mother. With effort he returned his gaze to Amy’s face and struggled to keep his mind on the subject at hand. “I beg your pardon?”

Amy pursed her lips and continued to regard him contentiously. “Guys always say things like that to get out of doing things around the house or with their kids,” she told him disparagingly. “I see it all the time with my married friends, and I have to tell you—” Amy paused and looked him straight in the eye “—it infuriates me.”

Nick braced a shoulder against the wall and returned her steady gaze. “Dexter’s been crying for an hour. I’ve done everything possible to quiet him, with no result. You waltz in—a good forty-five minutes later than you said you would be, by the way—you glare at me, take him from me, and bingo, the kid is happy as can be.” What did she call that if not proof that Nick was not exactly material for Stand in Father of the Year? Never mind husband or father material—for anyone. Pain twisting his gut at the loss he had suffered in the past and the emptiness and loneliness that would no doubt be part of his future, Nick swallowed hard and forced himself to stand up to the quiet accusation in Amy Deveraux’s turquoise eyes. “My nephew knows what he wants and what he wants is you,” Nick said gruffly, irritated at finding himself failing so completely and unexpectedly again. He looked at Dexter’s tearstained face. “Believe me, he couldn’t have been clearer about that.” And that hurt, too. Because even though the two of them hadn’t yet spent much time together, Nick loved his nephew, Dexter, as much as he loved his sister, Lola. He hadn’t expected to be so summarily rejected the first chance the two of them had been alone together. But he had been, Nick thought, discouraged and exhausted. There was no denying that.

“Nonsense. He’s simply confused and missing his mommy.” Amy cuddled Dexter close and smoothed Dexter’s down hair with gentle, maternal strokes. “All he wanted was to be comforted.”

“I did comfort him!”

Amy merely lifted a brow. Nick could see she didn’t believe him.

“Honestly—” Nick lowered his voice with effort and put the overwhelming emotion he felt aside “—I did my best. And it wasn’t good enough.”

Nick looked at Amy sternly, knowing she was probably going to fight him on this, but knowing also there was no other choice, he laid down the law. “No more going our separate ways. You’re going to have to stay with me and Dexter from now on. At least until Dexter adjusts to his mother’s absence.”

Chapter Four

Amy would have thought Nick was just trying to wriggle out of the promise he had made to his sister to look after her son had she not seen the anguish on Nick’s face. He truly was out of his league here—or so he thought. And a man like Nick did not want to be in a situation where he could possibly fail.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she said in no uncertain terms.

“Look, Amy, I wish it were otherwise, but the bottom line is I don’t have the instinct for something like this. Never have had and never will.”

He wasn’t as bad at it as he thought. After all, she had seen Nick change Dexter’s diaper and hold him earlier without any problem. Initially Dexter had snuggled against Nick’s broad, sinewy chest every bit as readily as he had cuddled against the softness of her breasts. But apparently Nick had gained no confidence from that.

“So what are you saying?” Amy asked, doing her best not to let how handsome Nick looked in the fading afternoon light distract her. While she had been gone, he had changed into faded jeans and a dark-gray polo shirt that made the most of his tall, muscular frame. His hair was mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it, and the hint of evening beard gave him a mesmerizingly sexy I’m-in-charge-here look. Swallowing hard around the sudden tightness in her throat, she stepped back. “That you’re not willing to do your part in taking care of Dexter from here on out?”

“No.” Nick’s glance drifted over her in a decidedly sensual appraisal, lingering on the close fit of the sleeveless rose-colored blouse and matching tea-length skirt she had changed into before going over to her aunt’s, then returning to her face. His voice lowered to a hushed, seductive murmur that did nothing to disturb the drowsy baby in her arms. “I’m telling you that until Dexter adjusts to the two of us taking care of him, you should be close enough to comfort him if he needs it—just like you’re doing now.”

His plan sounded practical. Romantic even, if Amy contemplated the notion of being tucked away in decidedly intimate and cozy surroundings with a baby she was fast coming to adore and a handsome man. There was only one problem, she thought, aside from her very physical attraction to Nick and the fact that she wasn’t the type of woman who would ever have a fling.

“What about my work?” Amy said seriously. And although she didn’t want to let Dexter, Nick or Lola down, she had professional commitments. Her word was her bond. She couldn’t just walk away from that.

He regarded her seriously, suddenly looking as enamored of her as she was of him. “I respect that,” he said with a persuasive smile, “but I’m sure with some judicious planning, the two of us can both manage to get our jobs done and care for Dexter. Even if that means, in the short run, that Dexter and I go where you go.”

Amy contemplated that as a sizzle of awareness swept through her slender five-foot-seven frame. She wasn’t sure how much she could actually accomplish with Nick Everton underfoot—his sexy presence was a pretty potent distraction. On the other hand, she didn’t want Dexter to be crying inconsolably again just because he’d awoken from a nap and didn’t have either his mommy or a similarly female presence there to comfort him. Plus, she could see Nick was just trying to do what was best for his nephew, even if that meant he had to admit his inadequacy, something she figured the successful executive did not have an easy time doing. Nick was the kind of man who wanted to succeed at literally everything.

“All right,” Amy said after a moment, figuring this really was for the best. “I’ll make sure I’m with the two of you until we know Dexter has adjusted to us being here, instead of Lola.”

“Thanks,” Nick said with a relieved smile.

Aware of how easy it would be to get intimately involved here—with both Dexter and Nick—Amy looked down and saw that Dexter had gone to sleep again. Knowing she had to get the infant settled, Amy put Dexter down in his crib, covered him with a blanket and went back to the living room. “I promised my aunt I’d have a proposal ready for her by tomorrow morning, so I’ve got to get busy on it while Dexter is sleeping,” she said.

Nick nodded. “I’ll run to the grocery for us while you’re working. And pick up some dinner and anything else you’d like while I’m out.” He paused. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Amy said, figuring the time apart would do them good, help her stop having these…thoughts. “Thanks.”

Amy waited until Nick had left, then sighed and went back out to her car. She brought in the card table, printer, digital camera, her laptop computer, a ream of paper and a corkboard and stand. She set up quickly and quietly, then kicked off her sandals and got down to work. To her relief, Dexter continued sleeping and was still sleeping when Nick returned, a little over an hour later. He came in carrying two bags of groceries in one arm and a big sack of Sticky Fingers carry-out in the other. Amy couldn’t suppress a delighted smile as she inhaled the delicious flavors of her favorite South Carolina barbecue. Maybe, she thought, sharing quarters with Nick and the baby wouldn’t be so difficult, after all.

Amy set the table while Nick put the milk, orange juice, eggs, bacon, bread, coffee and disposable diapers away. Together they opened up the barbecue sacks. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything,” he said.

He sure had, Amy noted happily. There were containers of hickory-smoked barbecued pork ribs, smoked turkey and rotisserie chicken. Barbecued baked beans, homemade coleslaw and potato salad, cinnamon baked apples, dirty rice, even some frogmore stew. His expression perplexed, Nick pointed to the container. “I wasn’t quite sure what this was,” he said, taking the lid off the spicy mixture. “But they assured me it had no frog in it. Just potatoes, peppers, onions, corn, sausage, shrimp and their special blend of spices.”

“It’s actually pretty good. Rich, though. Here, try a little.” Amy spooned up some and offered it to him. He regarded the concoction a tad suspiciously, but looking game nevertheless, closed his lips around the bite. He nodded agreeably as it melted on his tongue. “You’re right,” he said, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of pleasure and surprise. “It is good.”

Amy smiled with the pride of a Charleston native showing off her city, then asked as the two of them sat down at the small round breakfast table, “So how’d you know to go there?”

Nick’s knees bumped hers as he tried rather unsuccessfully to get his large frame settled comfortably at the cozy table. “I followed my nose. I figured anything that smelled that good had to taste pretty darn good, too.”

And it did, Amy thought as she dipped a piece of tender pork into her favorite Sticky’s condiment, the mustard-based barbecue sauce.

Nick added the “Hot” barbecue sauce to his. He inclined his head at the cardboard table and corkboard she’d set up in a corner of the living room. “What are you doing over there?” he asked.

Briefly, Amy explained to Nick about finding her long-lost great-aunt Eleanor and the nature of the job. “Anyway, when I was over at my aunt Winnifred’s this afternoon, I took pictures of the carriage house with my digital camera.”

“How long do you have to complete the job?” Nick asked.

Amy forked up some potato salad. “She wants it done as soon as possible—in two or three days.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

Amy regarded Nick confidently. “I think it’ll be fine if I can get her to approve the overall design tomorrow morning.”

Nick took a long thirsty drink of his iced tea. “What are you going to do about furniture?”

That, Amy thought, as she took a bite of cinnamon apple, was a lot easier. She looked at Nick, noting he was as famished as she was. “The carriage house is filled with antiques. I took photos of those, too. And that’ll help me decide what pieces we’re going to use when we redecorate.”

“I’m surprised she doesn’t want to start from scratch and buy everything she needs, rather than recycle what she already has,” Nick said as he ladled more of everything onto his plate. At Amy’s look, he shrugged affably. “People of her stature usually do.”

“Actually she did want to do that,” Amy said, surprised and pleased by Nick’s intuitive understanding of her business. “I’m the one who vetoed it.”

“Why? Wouldn’t there be more commission for you if she did buy all new?” he asked casually as he finished the rest of his frogmore stew and dirty rice. “Assuming she’s paying you for the work and it’s not gratis because she’s family.”

Amy ate a bite of the tangy coleslaw. “Aunt Winnifred is paying me—although I tried to get her to accept it as a gift. But she would have none of it.”

“Good for her.” Nick’s eyes met and held Amy’s. “People shouldn’t take advantage of family.”

Amy agreed about that. Family was important, which was why she wanted one of her own so badly.

“So back to what you plan to do for the carriage house,” Nick prodded. Finished with their meal, they rose and carried their plates to the sink.

“Basically, what I do for everyone else,” Amy said as she rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, while Nick put the leftover food in the refrigerator. “I go in, look at what they have, assess what they want and what they need to make that happen.”

Nick shut the refrigerator door and came back to stand beside her. “You make it sound easy.”

Amy wiped down the table, while he took the plastic bag out of the kitchen garbage container, tied it shut and replaced it with another. Amazed at how easily and effortlessly they were able to work together, Amy smiled at Nick as they walked onto the screened-in back porch and out into the yard. Almost wishing it had taken them longer to get their dinner mess cleaned up—she was enjoying Nick so much she didn’t want their time together to end, didn’t want to have to go back to work that evening at all—Amy said, “Redecorating is easy—for me, anyway.”

Nick tossed the day’s garbage into the pail and closed the lid, then followed her over to the clothesline. Wordlessly he began helping her collect the now dry linen from the clothesline. “What’s the most common problem you find when you begin a job?”

Amy tossed the clothespins into the wicker basket, one after another. “Usually people want to throw out too much. Sometimes literally everything.” She shook her head, marveling at the waste. “It’s almost never necessary.”

As Nick edged closer to her, the tantalizing sandalwood of his aftershave mingled with the clean fragrance of soap and the masculine scent of sweat. Amy’s pulse picked up at the unmistakable spark of interest in his eyes, the kind that said he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her. He continued to hold her gaze. “So in other words, you convince them to appreciate what they have first and then build on that?”

“Right.” Amy raked her teeth across her lower lip. “That’s what redecorating is all about.” She pulled one end of the flat sheet off the line—Nick picked up the other. They folded it in half and then quarters, then walked toward each other, their hands brushing as Nick gave her his end of the sun-dried linen. Struggling against the renewed shimmer of awareness drifting through her, Amy folded the linen into a square and dropped it into the basket on top of the pins, before turning—with Nick—to retrieve the contoured bottom sheet.

Because he looked genuinely interested, she continued explaining how she decorated houses as they folded the trickier elastic-edged sheet. “Sometimes it means taking things from one room and putting them in another. Sometimes it’s just poor arrangement of existing pieces or lack of accessorizing what is already there that’s the problem. Whatever,” Amy shrugged as their hands brushed once again, and Nick took over the final folding of the sheet. “I go in, add a few things and give it a pulled-together look.”

Nick dropped the second sheet on top of the first. “I’m guessing business is brisk?”

“Very.” Flushing self-consciously, Amy wiggled her bare toes in the grass and admitted, “I actually have a waiting list these days.”

Nick looked impressed. “Thought about franchising?” he asked as they each plucked a pillowcase off the line.

Now he sounded like a businessman, like her executive-father or always-looking-for-a-way-to-expand brother, Mitch. Amy picked up the laundry basket and balanced it on her hip. “No.” And she wouldn’t, either.

Wordlessly Nick took the basket from her and gallantly carried it into the house. “Getting your own TV show, then?” he asked as he led the way to the bedroom, where the stripped double bed waited. He reached over to turn on the bedside lamp, bathing the dusky room with soft light. “Makeovers are tremendously popular with the surge in home-and-garden cable networks.”

Amy moved to one side of the bed, Nick the other. “My mother is the TV host in the family, not me,” Amy declared.

“A shame.” Nick helped her put the sheets on the bed. “You’re very photogenic and you have the kind of easygoing personality viewers love.”

“I’m still not interested.” Amy picked up the quilt, thinking how awfully intimate the bedroom suddenly seemed.

“Any particular reason why not?” Nick asked as they smoothed that, too.

Amy stiffened and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve seen the way networks treat TV hosts they perceive to be over-the-hill.”

“You’re talking about your mother’s firing from Rise and Shine, America!’s” Nick guessed as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

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

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