Impulsively, Jenny reached out and gently touched his upper arm, intending to offer comfort.

What would it be like to have Ty’s strong, capable arms wrapped around her, holding her close, wrapping her in a sense of love and devotion she hadn’t felt in so very long?

“Jenny…” Ty uttered under his breath, her name sounding like a prayer. Her looked at her, his eyes intense and searching.

She desperately wished that he would reach out and pull her close, wanting the feeling of contentment and happiness and utter belonging she always felt when he was near.

Just for one space in time, she wanted her loneliness and pain to disappear.

Dear Reader,

May has to be one of the most beautiful months of the year. Having been trapped indoors for the cold, dark winter, I love taking long walks and discovering new shops and restaurants that have opened in New York. And everywhere I turn, multicolored flowers line street medians; the sidewalks are flooded with baby carriages and the bridal salons lining Madison Avenue feature gowns that would make any woman feel like a princess.

As our special tribute to May, we’ve gathered romances from some of your favorite writers and from some pretty stellar new voices. Raye Morgan’s BOARDROOM BRIDES continues with The Boss’s Special Delivery (SR #1766). In this classic romance, a pregnant heroine finds love with her sworn enemy. Part of the FAIRYTALE BRIDES continuity, Beauty and the Big Bad Wolf (SR #1767) by Carol Grace shows how an ambitious career woman falls for a handsome recluse. The next installment in Holly Jacobs’s PERRY SQUARE miniseries, Once Upon a Princess (SR #1768), features a private investigator who’s decided it’s time a runaway princess came home…to him! Finally, two single parents get a second chance at love, in Lissa Manley’s endearing romance In a Cowboy’s Arms (SR #1769).

And be sure to come back next month when Patricia Thayer and Lilian Darcy return to the line.

Ann Leslie Tuttle

Associate Senior Editor

In a Cowboy’s Arms
Lissa Manley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated to my parents, Jerry and Gloria.

Thanks for being so supportive and enthusiastic about my writing career.

Books by Lissa Manley

Silhouette Romance

The Bachelor Chronicles #1665

The Bridal Chronicles #1689

The Baby Chronicles #1705

Love Chronicles #1749

In a Cowboy’s Arms #1769

LISSA MANLEY

has been an avid reader of romance since her teens and firmly believes that writing romances with happy endings is her dream job. She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her college-sweetheart husband of nineteen years, Kevin, two children, Laura and Sean, and two feisty toy poodles named Lexi and Angel, who run the household and get away with it. She has a degree in business from the University of Oregon, having discovered the joys of writing well after her college years. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, crafting, attending her children’s sporting events and relaxing at the family vacation home on the Oregon coast.

Lissa loves to hear from her readers. She can be reached at P.O. Box 91336, Portland, OR 97291-0336, or at www.lissamanley.com.

Wanted: One hard-working, loving caretaker to live at ranch and tend to adorable eighteen-month-old girl. Must have a way with children, and must have some medical training.

Warning: location is isolated—no shopping malls or coffee franchises nearby. Ideal candidate will find happiness in natural beauty of the ranch and helping raise my daughter.

Please contact with references on hand: Ty McCall at Second Chance Ranch

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 One

Jenny Brewster pushed her hair behind one ear, then stepped up to Ty McCall’s front door. “Here we are, Ava,” she said to her eighteen-month-old daughter propped on her hip. “Our new life is about to begin.”

Ava clapped her hands and smiled. “New life! Yay!”

“It’s time to meet my new boss and his family.” Subduing the flutter of nervous apprehension in her tummy, Jenny raised a hand and knocked on the wooden door, noting that the one-level ranch house was freshly painted in an appealing shade of blue, complete with quaint white shutters. This ranch looked like the perfect place for her and Ava to move on with their lives, the least her daughter deserved.

While Jenny waited for someone to answer the door, she cast her interested gaze around, noting an expansive, obviously irrigated lawn stretching out in front of the house like an inviting sea of green. Someone had put a lot of work, and expense, into maintaining that huge lawn in the middle of dry eastern Oregon.

She also noted that the house was surrounded by a chain-link fence, complete with a swinging gate across the driveway. That gate protected the residence from the rest of the ranch outbuildings, situated to the rear of the house.

She let out a breath of sheer relief. Thank heaven Mr. McCall hadn’t exaggerated about the safeness of the ranch when she’d grilled him on that subject over the phone at the time he’d offered her this job as a nanny/nurse to his nineteen-month-old diabetic daughter. This place looked like a relatively protected spot to raise Ava, one of Jenny’s top priorities.

After losing Jack, she would do everything in her power to keep her daughter safe.

A few moments later, a tall man with a full head of gray hair dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans answered the door. “You must be Jenny and Ava,” he said, holding out a hand, a smile creasing his weathered face. His blue eyes sparkled in a friendly way that reminded Jenny of her dad, reassuring her further.

Jenny shook his hand. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m Sam McCall, Ty’s dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

He nodded. “Likewise. Hope your trip was okay.” He gestured her into the house. “I’ll ask Dusty to unload your things in a bit.”

“The trip was just fine, thanks.” She followed Sam past a living room decorated in muted blue and beige, then through a kitchen complete with red-and-white gingham curtains and oak cabinets. They ended up in a cozy family room with an inviting plaid couch and a large TV occupying a corner bookcase on the far wall.

Before she could speak, a man’s voice rang through the room. “Better come quick, Sam. He’s done it again.”

Jenny turned her attention to the short young man with a dark mustache who’d poked his head through the open back door of the McCall’s family room.

Sam sighed. “What happened this time, Dusty?”

“Calf kicked him in the face, split his eyebrow clean open,” Dusty said.

Jenny widened her eyes. “Who’s hurt?” she asked, looking between Sam and the young man.

“Oh, it’s that fool son of mine.” Sam swung his gaze to Dusty. “I’ll be right there.”

Dusty nodded, then pulled the door shut.

“Does your son hurt himself a lot?” Jenny asked, furrowing her brow, mild concern trickling through her.

“Well, yeah,” Sam said, shrugging.

At Jenny’s look of horror, he quickly added, “But not because he’s clumsy or anything. He’s just gotta do all the dangerous jobs around here himself.” He held up a hand. “I’m sorry to desert you like this, but I’ll have to go check on Ty. Would you mind—?”

A deep, smooth male voice interrupted Sam. “Dad, I’m fine. You don’t have to check on me at all.”

A hot chill ran up Jenny’s spine. Her heart suddenly pounding in a way that made absolutely no sense at all, she turned around to look in the direction of that captivating, totally masculine voice.

Standing in the back door was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Even though his eyebrow was split and bleeding, his blue eyes, mussed short blond hair, and tall muscular build shown off by his shockingly tight jeans, called to every shred of feminine appreciation in her. Quite frankly, she’d thought that part of her had died with Jack.

The man stared at her for a long moment, his chin pulled in, then quickly gave her a lopsided smile. “Uh…You must be Jenny. Glad you made it safely.” He gestured to his cut face. “Sorry for the blood.”

She cleared her throat, trying to ignore his blinding smile and rugged good looks. The medical professional in her coming to life, thank goodness, she shifted into nurse mode, raised her chin and said, “No problem. Why don’t you come in and I’ll take a look at that cut.”

Nodding, he stepped into the house, holding up a bright orange-colored first-aid kit. “I knew having a nurse around would come in handy.”

Jenny did her best not to stare, remembering that she’d come to the remote Second Chance Ranch in eastern Oregon to work as a nanny, not find a man—the last thing she ever wanted again. Although, she had to admit with a trace of guilt, the urge to take inventory of his best features, an easy task on this one, was strong.

Shaking her head, she refocused her attention on taking care of his cut, glad Ava was happily “cooking” at the adorable play kitchen in the corner and was oblivious to Ty’s bloody face. While Jenny admitted in some far corner of her brain it was a relief to discover Jack’s death hadn’t dried her out completely, it just wouldn’t do to ogle Ty McCall.

As Ty walked by, averting his bloody cheek from Ava, Jenny got a closer look at his injury. An inch-long vertical cut on one of his thick, dark-blond eyebrows marred his gorgeous face. She’d have to butterfly it for sure. He might even need stitches.

Sam offered to stay in the family room with Ava. Jenny thanked him, and as she followed Ty into the kitchen, one bothersome thought occurred to her, sending a shot of cold apprehension down her spine. She’d only been here ten minutes and an injury already demanded her attention. While she was pleased to be able to put her nursing skills to use, honoring her family legacy as she’d always dreamed of doing, Ty McCall’s mangled face told her that this place wasn’t nearly as unthreatening as she’d thought when she’d arrived and assessed the property and house.

Would Ava be safe here?

A tight knot formed in her chest. Ty’s injury spooked her.

For the first time since she’d accepted his offer, she wondered if maybe she’d made a huge mistake by leaving her old life behind to come here.

Just great, Ty thought, dropping into one of the wooden kitchen chairs with a heavy breath. Wouldn’t you know that Morgan’s new nanny would turn out to be one beautiful woman with eyes the color of a stormy ocean and enough curves to tempt any man into purgatory. Jenny Brewster sure wasn’t the bookish nurse-type he’d expected.

As she looked through the first-aid kit, he glanced at her firm little rear end, shown off by her snug jeans. Okay, so he’d made a tactical error assuming Jenny would be a studious bookworm like her brother Connor.

An image of Andrea popped into his brain. She’d hated living here. Why would a beautiful young woman like Jenny want to move clear out to the boonies, with little or no chance for a social life—a blessing for him but often a curse to others?

He snagged a glance at Jenny, regretting his assumptions about her, then immediately revised that. So she was a good-looking woman. Big deal. His daughter needed Jenny more than he needed a plain woman he wouldn’t be drawn to. Morgan’s health and well-being were his first, and only, priority.

And that was why he’d called Connor Forbes, M.D., Jenny’s brother and his own former college chum, looking for a nurse who would be willing to move to the middle of nowhere in eastern Oregon. The distance the paramedics would have to travel if Morgan had another low-blood-sugar episode had scared him enough to make a change and employ a full-time nanny who could double as a nurse. Luckily, Jenny had jumped at the chance to move out here.

She was here now, an answer to his prayers. He’d simply welcome her and establish himself as her new boss while having his cut taken care of. Of course, he’d keep things business only.

He could do that. No problem.

Jenny turned around, her mouth pressed into an uncomfortable-looking smile. “Okay,” she said, moving closer. “Let’s have a look at that cut.”

He took a deep breath and reminded himself how important it was to ignore how pretty Jenny was. No way was he ever going to let himself be knifed in the heart by a woman again.

Jenny moved closer, bringing with her heat and the delicate scent of lemons, which he doggedly tried to ignore. Still, he couldn’t help but notice in a far corner of his brain how good she smelled. It had been a long, long time since he’d been this close to a woman. That was the way things had to be given he lived like a damn monk to protect himself and his daughter from another loss.

Jenny stopped in front of him, reaching out. “I’m going to take a look, then I’ll clean the cut and see if you need stitches.” She leaned in, intensifying the heady citrus scent surrounding him, and all of a sudden she was way too close.

Acting on instinct, he pushed her hands away. “Er…you know, I’m sure this cut just needs a Band-Aid.” He made a stupid noise then, sort of a combination of a chuckle and a wimpy laugh, sounding like an idiotic woodpecker. Real smooth.

She stepped back and gave him a look that said she thought he’d lost his marbles. “What?” She placed her hands on her slim hips and shook her head. “No way. It’s worse than that.”

Needing space, he stood, waving a hand in the air. “Nah, I’ve had this kind of cut before.” He moved toward the first-aid kit. “I’ll just get a Band-Aid and we’ll be done here.”

She caught his arm as he walked by, unexpectedly warming his skin through his flannel shirt. “Sit down, Mr. McCall. I’m the nurse here, and I say that cut needs attention.”

He stopped and looked at her, his eyebrows raised high, trying to decide if he liked her bossiness or not, absolutely ignoring her touch.

She smiled, creating cute dimples on both sides of her mouth, then let go of him, her green eyes sparkling. “Don’t make me wrestle you into that chair,” she said with enough mock severity that he had to smile. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if necessary.”

He hesitated, staring at her, liking her dimples and admiring the way she’d handled this situation with humor and guts all rolled into one. The truth was, he was being an uncooperative rat for a reason she couldn’t possibly know. It wasn’t her fault he needed space from her blatant appeal, that his past made it necessary to remained unfazed by her.

He owed her his cooperation. And he had to admit, she was right. The cut hurt like hell and more than likely needed tending. He knew exactly what that calf had been stepping in before it kicked him. He’d be asking for an infection if he didn’t have Jenny take care of his wound, and the last thing he wanted was to be laid low by illness.

He nodded and moved back to the chair and obediently sat. “You’re right.” He pointed to his cut. “Have at it.”

With a nod, Jenny leaned in again, her body closer than he liked, and gently probed his wound. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

“So, how was your trip?” he asked, making conversation to distance himself from the searing ache in his brow.

She stepped back and moved to the counter. “Fine. Ava slept quite a bit, and aside from a stop in La Grande for lunch and a snack stop in Baker City, I drove straight through.” She turned back around. “You’re lucky, Mr. McCall. You don’t need stitches, so I’ll clean the wound, disinfect it, and put butterfly closures on it.”

He nodded, tempted to have her call him Ty, but decided the more formal they kept things, the better. “You showed up at just the right time. My dad probably would have just put duct tape on it and called it good.”

She laughed, sending warmth throughout his body. “Sounds like something my brother Aiden would do. He was a photojournalist overseas and is kind of the rebel in a family of practical medical professionals. My dad’s been a doctor in Oak Valley for years, and Connor, as you know, is a doctor, also.” She headed back to him, a white sterile cloth she’d pulled out of the first-aid kit in her hand. “This’ll probably hurt.”

She fussed over him for the next few minutes, invading his space. Resigned to her closeness for a while, he leaned back and let her work, needing to get the medical procedure over with and her out of his personal territory. He had to admit, though, that her steady, gentle touch and soothing chair-side manner relaxed him.

The truth was, he kind of enjoyed her fussing over him, something Andrea had never done. She’d only fussed over herself.

When Jenny finished and backed off, setting about cleaning up, he was relieved to have her away from him, a threat he could deal with from a distance.

He stood, shaking his head, which had begun to throb. A wave of dizziness hit him and he sank back down into the chair, feeling stupid for getting himself kicked.

But he felt like even more of an idiot when he realized that his plan to remain impervious to Jenny hadn’t worked very well.

He hated to admit it, but after living in such isolation, he feared that her amazing smile and magic healing touch would be impossible to ignore.

Chapter Two

Jenny cleaned up from the mid-afternoon snack of all-natural peanut butter and sugar-free crackers she’d fed Ava and Morgan earlier. The two giggling toddlers played at her feet, both content to bang on the pots and pans Jenny had dug out of the cupboard.

She looked down at the girls, her Ava a curl-topped blonde and Morgan a wispy-haired brunette, thanking God that the two had become fast friends immediately. Jenny smiled, a deep sense of contentment wrapping her in a fragile cocoon of security, soothing her in a way that nothing had since Jack had died.

She’d done the right thing by coming here. Ava seemed happy with their new situation and was safe from any harm, the number-one item on Jenny’s wish list, and life had settled into a predictable routine that made her feel secure. It was such a relief not to be a burden on her family any longer.

Looking back on her arrival three days ago, she felt foolish for doubting the decision she’d made to start a new life on this ranch. She felt even more foolish for being worried that her unexpected interest in Ty’s rugged good looks would be a problem.

Ty left the house early each morning and didn’t return until well after dinner every night. She hardly ever saw him. Everything was just fine.

Though she would never allow herself to be close to any man ever again—the pain she’d experienced when Jack died would see to that—it was still a relief to discover that she wouldn’t be around Ty very much. The last thing she wanted was to get sucked into his utter maleness. Having him gone all day, his seat absent at mealtimes, was all right by her.

Just as she’d finished rinsing out the girls’ sippy cups, Sam walked into the kitchen. “I rode the ATV out to the fence line Ty and the guys have been repairing, and they’re done.” He opened the fridge and peered inside. “He rode back with me and hit the shower and’ll be around for dinner, so I think I’ll whip up some sandwiches from the leftover meat loaf.”

Jenny dropped a plastic cup into the sink. Her stomach dipped, then a current of excitement buzzed through her. She pressed a hand to her midsection, frowning at the strange combination of dread and anticipation twisting inside of her. “Really?” she managed to say. She cleared her throat. “That’s nice.”

Sam puttered around the kitchen, gathering dinner-making supplies. Her stomach tight, Jenny herded both girls into the family room for a game of “kitchen,” as the girls called it. Chiding herself for making a big deal out of nothing—it was simply a dinner with her employer, for heaven’s sake—she sat on the couch while the girls made her pretend meals. She did her best to focus on her job rather than on the fact that beyond-handsome Ty McCall was going to be in the same room as she was in an hour or so.

After fifty or so pretend meals, she took Ava and Morgan out into the backyard to play on the plastic play structure Ty had put there, making sure she kept close to both girls at all times, especially when they climbed the ladder to the small slide. She only hoped the gorgeous early summer day would settle her nerves.

A half hour later, Sam called them in for dinner. She took each girl by the hand and led them into the house. After washing her and the girls’ hands, she checked Morgan’s blood-sugar level, noted the acceptable reading in the logbook and gave her the appropriate injection of insulin. She then settled both girls into their matching booster seats at the kitchen table.

Just about the time she felt like she had her jumpy nerves under control, Ty sauntered into the kitchen.

He looked better than any man had a right to look, freshly showered, his light-blond hair still damp, his jaw slightly darkened by his late-day stubble. She noted that his angular, handsome face was not the least marred by the butterfly closures covering one eyebrow. His tall, well-muscled body looked positively wonderful in a faded pair of Levi’s, scuffed cowboy boots, and a softly worn denim shirt he’d rolled up at the sleeves, exposing well-muscled, lightly haired, tanned forearms.

He smiled at Jenny, rubbing his hands together, his blue eyes glinting. “I’m starved. I hear we’re having my favorite—meat-loaf sandwiches.” He looked to his dad. “I hope you made a lot, Dad. I could eat a house right about now.”

He then proceeded to kiss not only Morgan’s cheek, but Ava’s, too. A warm little fire began to glow inside of Jenny.

“Look at these two darling little gals,” he said, his big hands on each of them. “What are you two having for dinner?”

“Macky and cheese,” Morgan proclaimed, waving her hand in the air. “Yummy!”

Ava clapped her hands. “Yay! Macky and cheese!”

“They love that stuff, don’t they?” Ty gently scruffed both girls’ heads, then turned his attention to Jenny, moving to his place at the table, which, unfortunately, was next to Jenny. “Do you manage to get them to eat anything else?”

As Ty moved closer, Jenny could detect the scent of clean man in the air. She cleared her throat again, avoiding his blue, blue gaze, absolutely determined to ignore how he managed to fill the entire kitchen with his presence. “Um, well, sometimes. Ava likes fruits and bread a lot, and Morgan’s partial to cheese and crackers. And anything with peanut butter on it.”

Ty nodded. “I love peanut butter, too.” Then, to Jenny’s surprise, he moved over and pulled her chair out for her. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing to the chair, his voice low and husky.

Jenny sat, her legs almost giving out before her rear hit the chair. “Thank you,” she said, impressed and touched by his gentlemanly manners, even if they did make her shaky and way too warm.

Ty helped Sam bring the food to the table, which included not only the makings for meat-loaf sandwiches, but what Jenny had learned was Sam’s attempt to control his weight and high cholesterol—low-fat tortilla chips, salsa and a fruit plate that made Jenny’s mouth water.

Jenny sneaked a peak at Ty as he sat down, interested in his reaction to what most physically active guys would consider rabbit food. To her surprise, he seemed perfectly content with the mostly low-fat, healthy meal.

Everyone served themselves, then Ty turned to Jenny. “How were Morgan’s blood-sugar levels today?”

Jenny finished off a salsa-laden tortilla chip, relieved that the conversation was headed toward an acceptable subject—her job. “Just fine. Nothing lower than ninety, nothing over 150.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “Thankfully, they’ve been pretty stable lately.” He reached out and stroked Morgan’s macaroni-and-cheese-covered cheek, a look of pure love and devotion shining from his eyes. “I don’t want to go through another low-blood-sugar episode any time soon.”

Jenny gave him a sympathetic smile, ignoring how his concern about his child clogged the breath in her throat, determined to keep her reactions on a professional level only. “I can understand why. But keep in mind that we have the glucagon injection on hand if we need to counteract a low, and over the long run, the lows aren’t nearly as damaging physically as the highs.”

“I know,” he replied after chewing a bite of sandwich. “But I’d still like to avoid the lows if we can, even though it’s difficult with an active toddler like Morgan.”

“I do, too,” Jenny said. It was easy to see that the low-blood-sugar episode Morgan had had three weeks ago, which had required a long, agonizing wait for the paramedics in Baker City, had really scared him. She graphically understood his need to keep his daughter safe and healthy. “As long as we stick to the regimen prescribed by the pediatric endocrinologist, we’ll be fine.”

The girls finished their meal quickly, then both started squirming to get out. Sam graciously offered to take them into the family room to watch a Disney DVD before Jenny gave them their baths and put them to bed.

Soon, Jenny was alone in the kitchen with Ty, feeling like a tongue-tied teenager on a first date. Her appetite suddenly gone, she fidgeted on her chair, then suppressed a snort of disgust. She was sitting next to her employer, not a date, thank the Lord; the thought of dating, of opening herself up to be hurt again, struck absolute terror in her heart.

Pushing her half-eaten sandwich aside, she reiterated in her mind that Ty was nothing more than her boss. She would be pleasant and talkative enough to establish a cordial working relationship while keeping their conversation superficial. On the plus side, she might be able to ask Ty what had happened to Morgan’s mom, a detail she told herself she only needed to know for Morgan’s sake.

An awkward silence passed while she kept quiet and Ty built his third sandwich, which was piled high with meat loaf and cheese.

She raised a brow. “How many of those are you going to eat?”

“This’ll probably be it,” he said, holding up the fat sandwich. He nodded toward the tortilla chips. “I’ll fill up on those, too, then probably sneak down for a midnight snack.” He gave her a crooked grin, then leaned in close and whispered, “My dad still buys me the full-fat, very high cholesterol ice cream.”

Jenny had to smile, even though her stomach was doing flips from his sudden nearness. “This,” she said, gesturing to the food on the table, “isn’t enough for you, is it?”

Ty scooped up some salsa with a chip. “Nope, especially not after a hard day working outside.” He lifted a thick shoulder, then popped the chip into his mouth. When he was done chewing, he said, “But I wouldn’t dream of telling my dad that. He works too hard at providing healthy meals to hurt his feelings with complaints.” His eyes softened and he kicked one side of his mouth up. “I just eat what he prepares and then fill in later.”

Jenny’s heart turned over. “You’re very considerate,” she murmured, toying with a piece of cantaloupe with her fork, wishing he wasn’t so darn appealing in every way, wishing it was easier to keep him in the “employer” box she’d made for him.

Swallowing heavily, she deliberately kept her attention off of him, focusing her gaze instead on her half-empty plate.

After a long silence, Ty asked, “So, how are things going with the girls?”

“Just fine,” she said, happy to talk business. “They get along great, and both are used to the same kind of nap routine.” She’d been a little surprised that Morgan was on a set schedule, and had mentally given Ty kudos for doing such a good job as a single father trying to raise a child while working more than full-time hours.

“Good. They both seem happy.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I ask you a kind of…personal question?”

She looked at him, pulling in her chin. Of course she minded; she wanted to keep things strictly employee/employer between them. But she was taking care of his most precious possession—his child. He had a right to ask personal questions. To a point. “No, not at all,” she said, her voice higher than normal. “What would you like to know?”

He propped his forearms on the table, then gave her an inquisitive stare. “Why did a young, beautiful woman like you want to come out here and live in the middle of nowhere?”

Her heart lurched when he called her beautiful, but she quickly crammed the feeling into a little ball and ignored it. “I thought we covered that in the phone interview.”

He inclined his head. “We did, sort of. Something about wanting to support yourself being a nurse without your parents’ help.” He turned and bored into her with his intense, compelling blue gaze. “There’s got to be more. Not many women would willingly come here to stay.”

Jenny focused on how he seemed to be speaking from personal experience rather than on how his blue stare made her shiver. She had to keep his appeal from sucking her into a dangerous place she’d sworn never to go again when Jack had died. “Um, I, well, I needed to get away from Oak Valley,” she said, hoping he’d leave it at that. She wasn’t ready to share her innermost fears.

“Why?” he asked, still staring, dashing her hopes.

She bit her lip and popped a grape into her mouth, stalling. How could she share with him how much she needed to escape the sad memories of Oak Valley, how she was determined to avoid laying her soul bare again to the most intense pain and hurt she’d ever felt?

Given that searing reality, opening up about Jack’s death seemed…well, nearly impossible. And yet, she was trying to move on and make a new life, for Ava’s sake. To do that she needed to get past the pain, or at the very least be able to deal with it in the most basic of ways. She needed to be able to talk about it.

Taking a deep breath, she hesitated. “Did Connor ever tell you about how my husband died?”

Ty stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”

She swallowed, fiddling with the napkin on her lap, working herself to a mental place where she could talk about Jack’s accident. “He, uh, well…” She cleared her tightening throat. “He was a paramedic, and he was rushing to help a car-accident victim.” She closed her eyes, willing herself to deal with the pain and keep talking.

“Go on,” Ty said softly. “It’s okay.”

The strange thing was, it did feel almost okay—or at least acceptable—to tell him about Jack’s death. Why was that? Why did she feel comfortable enough with this man to tell him about the most tragic event in her life? Was it his softly compelling eyes and wide shoulders that looked as if they could handle any burden?

She fidgeted in her chair for a moment, confused. But then a surprising need to unload came over her and she deliberately relaxed her hands, took another deep breath and continued. “It was dark and wet, and in typical Jack fashion, he was driving too fast, putting someone else’s welfare above his own. He hit a curve, the truck slid off the road…” Tears burned her eyelids but she forced herself to continue. “And hit a tree. On his side.” One lone tear slid down her cheek. “He was killed instantly.”

Pain rose up inside of her like a black, choking tide. If only Jack had been more careful.

“It still hurts, doesn’t it?” Ty asked, his voice low and gentle.

She nodded, her throat burning. She bit her lip and looked up at Ty, saw the tender concern in his eyes and almost fell headfirst into his caring gaze….

She looked away. What was wrong with her? Why had she shared her ultimate pain with Ty? He wasn’t her best friend, or a man she would let herself care about. He was her boss, that was all. She had no business sharing such personal feelings with him. She’d already told him too much.

To her surprise, Ty reached out and covered her hand with his large, warm, calloused hand. “Are you angry with him?”

She blinked, trying to ignore how good his hand felt covering hers, how much she wanted to turn her fingers and hold onto him for a very long time. “Of course not—” she blurted, then cut herself off before she said any more, before she let him in on her deepest shame.

He squeezed her hand and cut off her sentence. “It’s natural you would be. He took a risk and left you alone, right?”

Shaking, she stared at him, amazed at his perceptiveness, still ashamed to admit that deep down she resented her dead husband for being an altruistic risk-taker, for putting somebody else’s welfare above his own.

She shifted on the kitchen chair, biting the inside of her lip. She needed to shut up. Right now. “I don’t think that’s any of your—”

Sam’s call from the family room cut her off. Ty put his napkin on the table and rose, holding up a hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Jenny watched him go, admiring his broad shoulders and narrow hips. Realizing what she was doing, she ripped her gaze away from his retreating back, her face flaming, guilt and shame mixing around inside of her like acid.

“What are you thinking?” she muttered to herself. She had no business checking out Ty, just as she had no business opening up to him.

But for some reason, she had confided in him to a degree. And he’d seen inside of her to her true feelings and understood. While her family had been very supportive, nobody seemed to understand how much she resented Jack for taking a risk that had ultimately left her alone to raise their daughter. Heck, she could hardly even acknowledge the feelings, could barely deal with the guilt and shame that tore at her when she analyzed her feelings about what had caused Jack’s death.

To make matters worse, after the short time she’d spent with Ty, she was drawn to him on an emotional level that went beyond how amazingly blue his eyes were or how beguiling his smile was.

And that was far more dangerous than any physical yearning could ever be.

Ty answered his dad’s question about how to operate their new DVD player, then paused outside the entrance to the kitchen, trying to get his thoughts in order before he went back in and sat down next to Jenny.

The truth was, her tears over her husband’s death had landed on him like a snorting, charging bull, bringing out not only his sympathy, but a deeply rooted sense of protectiveness he’d thought long buried. Strangely, he’d wanted to take her in his arms, and soothe her grief and guilt away while wiping away the pain in her beautiful green eyes.

Bad, bad move. The last thing he should be thinking about was letting himself feel even remotely protective of his daughter’s nanny, or attracted to her. On any level. As if to drive that point home, a vision of Andrea popped into his head.

Remember the pain, McCall.

He gave himself a mental slap and reminded himself that women left when the going got tough, period. No way was he going to put himself through that hell again.

So she’d been deeply affected by her husband’s death. So she was vulnerable and more appealing than any woman he’d been around in a long, long time. While he felt bad she’d been hurt, he couldn’t let himself be too affected by her.

He stepped back into the kitchen, his priorities in order, intending to ask her some questions about Morgan’s insulin regimen. Jenny was at the sink, rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” he said.

She turned around, her eyebrows arched high, then lifted one slim shoulder and went back to rinsing and loading. “I don’t mind. Sam’s entertaining the girls and you’ve had a long day.” She glanced at his empty chair. “Why don’t you sit down and relax for a while?”

Her consideration of him warmed a cold, empty place inside of him. Liking the feeling, but wary of it, too, he shook his head. “No way am I going to have you doing all the work. Hand me the sponge and I’ll wipe the table down.” Cleaning up in the same room seemed impersonal enough.

She rinsed out the sponge, then handed it to him along with a spray bottle of antibacterial kitchen cleaner. “Spray it down with this, all right?”

He took the sponge and cleaner from her and went to work. Before he could start the discussion about Morgan’s insulin regimen, Jenny jumped in and said, “So, as long as we’re unloading, why don’t you tell me what happened with Morgan’s mother.”

He froze in mid-spray, yanking his brows together. “What do you mean?” he asked, attacking the Formica table with a vengeance.

“Connor told me you’re divorced.” She swiveled around and pinned him in place with her beautiful greenish-brown gaze. “Why?”

Ty stared at her, surprised by her probing question. He squished the sponge in his hand and resumed wiping. “Things didn’t work out,” he said, his jaw clenched. Talk about a major understatement. His marriage to Andrea had been a disaster from the start.

Jenny walked over and gathered the placemats together. “What happened?”

Ty kept wiping, scrubbing at a nonexistent spot on the table. “So, how many units of insulin did you give Morgan today?”

She put her hand on his forearm, sending warmth up his arm and into his body. “I think the table’s clean,” she said, her voice soft and devoid of reproach. “I’m sure you’d like to change the subject, but I think I have the right to know what happened with Morgan’s mom.”

He jerked his brows together, then abruptly straightened, glaring at her. “Oh, really?”

She glared back. “Yes, really. Your ex-wife not only left you, she left Morgan. As her nanny, I think I should know some details.”

He hated to admit it, but she had a point. Even though it raised the bile in his throat to discuss his ex-wife’s appalling actions with anyone, maybe he needed to let Jenny in on what had happened. For Morgan’s sake only, of course.

He paced toward the sink. “Andrea wasn’t happy living way out here.” He flung the sponge into the sink, familiar, overpowering bitterness rising in him. “Said it was boring and dull. Even after Morgan was born, she was restless and took off for Portland every other weekend to shop and visit friends. Still, we had a daughter, and I had hope.” For love. Peace. A happily-ever-after.

He stopped and shook his head. “I was a fool for hoping for anything. The second Morgan was diagnosed with diabetes, Andrea was out of here, saying she couldn’t handle having a child with a chronic disease.” He snorted. “Just like that she left, and I haven’t seen her since.”

Jenny remained quiet for a moment. “She deserted you,” she said in a monotone. It was a bald-faced, razorsharp statement that cut deep.

His hackles shot to the roof. “Dammit,” he ground out, swinging away, floored by her tactless statement. “No kidding she deserted us.”

Jenny placed her small hand on his rigid arm for a moment. “No, that came out wrong. What I meant was that I’m just…incredulous that a woman would willingly throw away her husband and child.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for being so blunt. It’s just that as a widow who had no control over my loss, I can’t imagine choosing to walk away.”

Slowly his hackles relaxed. “That makes sense,” he said, seeing the pain and contrition in her eyes. “Sorry I overreacted.”

She smiled, then bent down and pushed the dishwasher closed. “I understand. It’s easy to overreact when the wounds are fresh, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess it is.” He rolled a shoulder. “Although, I don’t like to think of myself as wounded.”

“I guess that’s my perspective.” She hung the dish towel on its hook on the refrigerator. “Jack’s death left a wound that I’m not sure will ever heal.”

For some reason, the thought of this vibrant woman being wounded for the rest of her life bothered him. “So does that mean you’re never planning on marrying again?” Strange how the question seemed suddenly very important.

She was quiet for a second, then softly said, her voice tinged in sadness, “That’s right. I loved and lost once. I don’t plan on ever doing that again.”

He straightened the chairs around the table, again somehow saddened that a beautiful young woman like Jenny was planning on being alone for the rest of her life. Funny how he could imagine himself that way, but not her. “Hey, I get that.” Boy, did he. “Depending on someone will burn every single time.”

She turned around and leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “Seems we have a lot in common, don’t we?”

Before he could reply to her statement, Ava called out, asking Jenny to come see the funny doggy on TV. With an understanding smile that Ty liked way too much, Jenny left the kitchen, leaving him alone, one disturbing thought running around in his brain.

They did share a connection. She’d been trampled by love, just like he had. She undoubtedly understood him on a level he had never expected, in a way that made him feel open and vulnerable.

And that scared him to death.

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