by Susan Meier
Cindy’s eyes closed again and Tory glanced down at the bottle. It was empty. She woke Cindy long enough to get her to burp, then laid her in the crib.
Standing at the door, with her hand poised over the light, she suddenly wished Chance would take the job with his family’s company and keep her as a nanny. Then she could watch these kids grow up.
That was foolish dreaming. Dangerous dreaming.
Or was it? The doctors had said they had no idea how long Jason would be in his coma. And she had no intention of deserting him. Being a nanny for the next eighteen years gave her something she wouldn’t otherwise get—a chance to be a mom.
Was it so wrong to want that?
It served everybody’s purposes. Chance got the help he needed raising his children. She got to be a mom of sorts, even though she’d never marry.
It seemed perfect.
Except for her damned attraction.
No. She couldn’t stay here forever. Six years tops. Which gave her enough time to finish her degree at nights—if she buckled down.
Maybe she should start thinking about that and not daydreaming about kids who weren’t hers.
* * *
The next morning Chance had another appointment with his brother. He dressed in a suit and tie again and all but raced out of the house—except this time he remembered to kiss the kids.
But when he was alone in the SUV, their “almost” minute on the sofa the night before jumped into his head. He had to fight the urge not to bang his head against the steering wheel. How could he even think about kissing Tory with Liliah’s antics so fresh in his brain? Especially since Tory had “somewhere” to go on Saturdays and Sundays. She might not have a boyfriend, but she had a secret.
He sucked in a breath. A secret that probably wasn’t any of his business. Tory was an employee. And maybe if he started thinking of her only as an employee some of these “other” feelings would go away.
He shoved the car key in the ignition. “What she does on her own time is none of my business.”
Except the most reasonable, most innocent explanation had been ruled out when they’d met in the nursery for the twins’ middle-of-the-night feeding and she’d stared at him as if she hadn’t seen a man in years.
Plus, she’d stuttered over the reason why she wanted time off. She’d groped for a way not to have to tell him where she was going and in the end settled on just being vague. And if his relationship with Liliah had taught him anything, it was to be suspicious of people who were deliberately vague.
So his shields were back up. He’d think of her only as an employee and even then he’d be careful. He would not—absolutely would not—tolerate any more drama in his life. And if this secret of hers brought any, he was going to fire her.
Period.
Reasoning that through should have made him happy, but it actually made him antsy. Angry, but with a nervous twist. He didn’t want to fire her. He didn’t want her to have a secret. He didn’t want to have to fight his attraction. He wanted to be able to pursue it.
Which annoyed the hell out of him.
What was it about this woman that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, even when common sense told him something was wrong?
He pulled into the executive parking lot for Montgomery Development, got out of his SUV and used the private elevator to go to Max’s office. When the elevator doors opened, the sofa and chairs were filled to capacity with men and women in gray, black and navy blue suits.
Relief poured through him. Business. This was his domain. This would get his mind off Tory and her secrets and her soft brown eyes.
He stepped into the office and like a proud big brother, Max said, “Everyone, this is my brother Chance.”
As Max recited names, Chance shook a long row of hands, suddenly feeling a part of things. He knew that was because Max introduced him as if it were a foregone conclusion that he’d be staying in Pine Ward. But as the day wore on, Max’s behavior began to strike him as being odd as the nanny’s.
Why was he going to such great lengths to be nice? To include him? The big brother he’d left hadn’t so much been bad as he’d been an attention grabber. Knowing he’d be taking over Montgomery Development, Max had all but shadowed their dad, wanting to be just like him. Now, suddenly, he was different? How had Max bamboozled him into believing that?
Antsy as he was, Chance couldn’t let this slide. In fact, antsy as he was, he was sort of looking forward to a fight.
When the day was done, he took the seat in front of Max’s desk, and Max walked to the tall-back chair behind it. “So what did you think? Does Montgomery Development look like the place you could work for the next twenty or so years?”
Chance smiled wryly. Without even realizing it, his brother was handing him his argument opportunity on a silver platter. He snorted a laugh. “Right to the point, huh?”
“Hey, I don’t know how long you’re going to be here. I have to get to the point.”
“All right. You want to know what I think? I think you’re going to make promises like Dad did then back out of them once you have me here.”
Max gaped at him. “Have the past two days meant nothing to you?”
“You were a charmer just like Dad, Max. And I’m supposed to believe you’ve changed?”
Max’s chair creaked as he leaned back. “Go on.”
“Go on? I’d rather just go before you cheat me or lie to me or withhold important information.”
“Oh.” Max snorted a laugh. “I get what you’re doing. You want me to be just like Dad. You want to make me the bad guy so you can tell Mom you tried, but I’m impossible to work with.” He stood, leaned across the desk. “Get this, little brother. You own one-third of this company. When Mom passes, we’ll each own half. We are stuck with each other. And I don’t want to do all the work myself. I want some help. So let’s just have this out right now.”
Chance rose too, leaned across the desk as Max had done. “Fine. You want to have it out? Let’s start with why you didn’t tell me you knew Dad was my biological father?”
Max leaned closer. “Because I’d only heard office gossip. I wasn’t about to take gossip to you. Now I get a question. If you’re such a great guy who loves Mom so much, why didn’t you at least send a Christmas card in fifteen years?”
“I was angry.”
“Well, la-di-da.”
Just seeing his big, bad brother say, “La-di-da,” sent Chance’s lips to twitching. In a few seconds, he was laughing. “La-di-da?”
Max fell to his seat. “Seemed appropriate at the time.”
Chance laughed again.
Max motioned to his chair. “So you’re afraid to work with me?”
Chance sat. If this was his moment of truth with his brother, then it was going to be a genuine moment of truth. No hedging. No accusations. Just the truth. Because as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t work here. “I can’t trust you, Max.”
“All because I knew something for twenty-four hours without telling you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But it’s more about Dad. About connections to this place that I can’t seem to shake. I spent fifteen years disliking you. That just doesn’t go away.”
“Fair enough.”
He glanced up sharply. “Fair enough?”
“I think you’re asking for time. I’m happy to give it to you.”
“I just told you I don’t trust you and you’re telling me that you’ll give me time?”
“Time to come to terms with everything. Time to trust me.” He leaned his chair back again. “Chance, I’m an alcoholic who had to make amends to at least half the people in town. I’ve had to be patient while nearly everyone I knew got adjusted to the new me. I’d be a real idiot if I couldn’t wait for my own brother to adjust.”
Chance said nothing. He’d never heard such sincerity come from anyone. And if there was anyone he longed to give a second chance, it was Max. The older brother he’d at one time adored.
&n
bsp; Max steepled his fingers and tapped them against his mouth for a few seconds before he opened the top drawer of his desk. “Since we’re being honest and up front and open and all that great stuff—” he tossed a manila envelope at him “—this is yours.”
Chance didn’t even reach for the envelope. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
He lifted the envelope, opened it and pulled out a stack of at least five annual statements for Montgomery Development.
“You want me to see how well the company’s done or the history of what you’ve changed since Dad died?”
“I’ve been catching you up the past few days. Those annual statements are for you to check numbers.”
“Check numbers?”
“Reach a little farther into the envelope.”
He did and found a bankbook.
“That’s your share of our profits since Dad died. After he passed, Mom decided that she didn’t need or want all the money Montgomery Development generated, so she made us full partners. As I said, we each own a third. That—” he nodded at the bankbook “—is your share.”
He opened the bankbook. Glanced up at Max. “There are millions of dollars here.”
“I know.”
“You left it in a savings account? Where it barely draws interest?”
Max laughed. “My job was to keep your money safe. Your job is to invest it.”
“I don’t know what to say.” He really didn’t. Their father would have never held profits. Not even for a partner. He would have figured a way take them as salary or a bonus. Max had saved them. For him.
“Say you’ll stay…at least a while. Give me a chance to prove myself. Things are very different here now. We could be a family again.”
A family. The real gift he wanted to give the twins. An uncle, an aunt, cousins, a grandma. And Max wanted it too. Yet, here he was, picking a fight because he couldn’t trust.
He cleared his throat and unexpectedly thought of Tory. Like Max, she’d been nothing but good to him, and what did he do? Convince himself he couldn’t trust her because of Liliah, and build a federal case out of her not telling him where she would be going on her days off.
He swallowed hard. “What if the problem isn’t that I don’t trust you but that I just plain can’t trust at all?”
“Then I would recommend that you stay even more. You build trust first with family, Chance. Give me and Mom the opportunity to show you that we love you and we want you in our lives. And we’ll take it from there.”
He laughed slightly and shook his head, realizing what a yutz he’d been. “You mean start interacting more than just living in Mom’s guesthouse and visiting you on the job?”
“Yeah. You can’t write off me and Mom because Dad was a jerk. Get to know us before you write us off.”
Max’s words rang in Chance’s head as he entered the cottage that night. Because it was already after six, Tory had the babies fed.
“That was a long visit.”
“My brother and I had a talk—”
And he had been so confused about his mistrust of Tory—whether it was leftover feelings from Liliah or genuine mistrust because she had a secret—that he didn’t really want to come home. So he’d driven around a bit, trying to make sense of what was happening. He didn’t want to fall victim to an unexpectedly intense attraction. Yet he didn’t want to lose a good nanny because he said or did something because of his overly suspicious mind. He did want to do what Max had suggested, get to know the new people around him. But the problem was, getting to know Tory usually either made him giddy with attraction or suspicious of her.
He had to find a neutral ground and had no idea how.
He walked over to the play yard, and lifted Sam out. “Hey, big guy. What did you do all day?”
“Actually, they had a special day.”
He peered over. “They did?”
“Yes, your mom has decided to keep them every day at noon while I eat lunch.”
He laughed, felt some of his apprehension loosen. This was a normal discussion a man should have with his children’s nanny. If he could keep the conversation going like this, he might actually get comfortable. “I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.”
“She is their grandmother.”
“Technically, yes.”
“Technically?”
Maybe it was time for him to be a little more honest too? “I’m adopted.”
“Oh.”
He put Sam back in the play yard and lifted Cindy out. “Hey, sweetie.”
She nuzzled against his face and he laughed. “I missed you too. But Daddy’s going out tonight.” Dinner with Max and Kate and their kids was another part of Max’s get-to-know the family plan. And now that he thought about it, the answer to his problems with Tory might actually be solved that way too. If he wanted to trust her, he needed to know more about her. He couldn’t out-and-out interrogate her, but if the opportunity to question her came up in conversation, he needed to take it.
He glanced at Tory. “My brother and his wife want me to have dinner with them. I hope you don’t mind.”
* * *
Tory smiled with relief. Mind? He wouldn’t be underfoot, looking sexy and being sweet with the two babies she was beginning to believe might be the real loves of her life?
She had to stifle a laugh of pure joy. “Of course I don’t mind.”
“Usually you get a little break at night when I play with them.”
“I had a nice break at your mom’s.”
“If you wanted dinner now, you could go up to the house now. I won’t change until after you’re back.”
“What time are you meeting your brother and sister-in-law?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll call them now and say I’ll be there at eight. You just go get your supper.”
She nodded, grabbed her jacket and happily left to have dinner with Cook and the other household staff. She hated being excited that he’d be out that night, but she was. It was so much easier to simply care for the kids on her own.
When she returned, he showered and changed while she fed the babies a snack before bed. He kissed them goodbye, told her not to wait up and was gone.
And she had the whole house to herself.
The whole peaceful, quiet, roomy house to herself.
No worry he’d notice she was attracted to him.
No worry she’d feel those things she knew were wrong.
CHAPTER FIVE
THAT NIGHT WHEN THE BABIES cried, Tory raced into the nursery hoping to get to them before they woke Chance, but no such luck. He ambled into the room at the same time she did. Shirtless, sweat pants hanging off his hips, making her mouth water.
She sucked in a breath and headed for the cribs, telling herself to straighten up and deal with this. There was more time when he wasn’t home than when he was. She only had to be with him a few hours every day. And they barely talked. When he returned from spending time with his brother, he didn’t talk about himself or ask about her. He only asked after the babies. Surely, she could handle that.
He beat her to the cribs and reached for Cindy. Tory almost stopped him, but she remembered that Cindy had special needs at nighttime feeding and showing him would give them something neutral to focus on.
She pulled Sam out of his crib and silently changed his diaper as Chance changed Cindy’s. Then she handed Sam over to him and went to the kitchen for bottles.
When she returned, she took Sam from his arm. She walked to her rocker, slid the nipple into Sam’s eager mouth and set her chair to rocking.
From her peripheral vision, she watched Chance try to settle Cindy as she fussed. When the baby wouldn’t settle, she quietly said, “She likes you to talk to her.”
Sleepy-eyed, he glanced over. “What?”
“Chitchat,” she whispered, feeling weird sensations in her tummy. His eyes were the color of a perfect sky.
His brow furrowed. “Chitchat?”
“Tell her she
’s pretty.”
He laughed. But when she didn’t laugh with him, he frowned. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah. She likes you. She likes having your attention. So just say nice things to her.”
He glanced down at her, pressed his lips together as if thinking that through, then said, “Hey, sweetie.”
Tory watched Cindy grin around the nipple in her mouth.
“That made her want to drink even less.”
“Keep talking. She’ll catch up.”
He sighed and frowned, obviously thinking, then said, “Hey. Didn’t we have fun playing while Tory went to supper?”
Cindy grinned again.
“I mean, who doesn’t like a bunch of colored rings?”
She slowly began to suck.
“And those bears of yours. They’re really fuzzy.”
Tory couldn’t help it. She laughed. His gaze shot to her. “You said to do this.”
“And you’re doing great. It’s just weird to see somebody so…” Sexy. Virile. Masculine. She wanted to say any one or all of those. Instead, she said, “Young. Somebody so young with a baby.”
He peered at her. “I’m not that young.”
No. He wasn’t. He’d piqued her curiosity when he’d said he was adopted, and she’d asked Cook about him. Cook had told her a few things that were surprises. Like his age. She’d thought him to be twenty-eight or thirty. He was thirty-four. She’d thought him to be a somewhat spoiled rich guy. He’d gone off on his own at eighteen and worked in construction before he started his own company. He’d told her bits and pieces of all that, but hearing it from Cook in a coherent order, it had all fit together.
“I’m thirty-four.”
“I know. Cook has been here thirty years and she said you were four when she started working for your mom.”
He glanced over again. “Really? She remembers?”
“She said you were a cute kid.”
He laughed and checked Cindy’s bottle. “I could be a holy terror.” He glanced over again. His eyes narrowed as if he were considering something, then he said, “How about you?”
How about her? He wanted to know about her? Good grief, they were back to talking? She couldn’t remember the last time someone asked about her and not Jason, or the accident, or her leg. And she didn’t want to talk about any of those.