by Susan Meier
“I’m so sorry.”
“I am too, you know?” She lifted Sam from the walker and finally faced him. “It’s been hard. It feels like I’ve been on my own for years. And I’m attracted to you, so you sort of overwhelmed me last night. But I’m committed to Jason. I love this job. I love your kids. I was hurt in the accident when I was twenty, so this is the first time in my adult life that I’ve felt like I was doing something with my life. But I can’t stay on as your nanny if you’re interested in me.”
“I’m not.” Yesterday that would have been a lie. Today, it was solidly the truth. He liked her too much, respected her even more now that he was hearing her whole story, to hurt her. “And I love you as my children’s nanny.” He patted his chest. “I’ve never been happier.”
“So we’re cool?”
“Yeah. We’re cool.”
He played with the kids all morning while she washed a week’s worth of rompers, tiny socks and onesies in the washer in the little room in between the kitchen and the garage. At noon, they fed the babies lunch then put them down for a nap.
Eager to continue avoiding each other, Chance made a few calls in his room. When he came out, he expected her to be gone—on her visit to her fiancé. Instead, she sat on the sofa.
Before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door. He answered to find Robert standing on the threshold, a big gray container in his hands.
“For you, sir.”
He took the container and Robert pivoted and left. Chance turned to Tory. “What’s this?”
“Lunch. I called and asked Cook to send down enough for both of us.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but we had a bit of a bump last night so I figured it was best for both of us to keep talking until we’re beyond it.”
Not agreeing, since talking only seemed to make him like her more or hate himself, he ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Really?”
“Yes. If we just keep talking to each other, pretty soon the weirdness will be forgotten.”
He didn’t necessarily agree with that either, but since he and his instincts were so off the mark with her, he was willing to try anything. He ambled to the table and set down the container. While she got bowls and utensils, he pulled soup and fresh bread from the box.
After each had a bowl of soup and a few slices of warm bread, she smiled briefly at him. “So what else do you think we should talk out?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. This is your idea.” Then a thought hit him and he squeezed his eyes shut. There was one more thing he’d done abysmally wrong the night before.
He caught her gaze. “Actually, I owe you one more apology. I feel bad about teasing you about your pantsuit.”
“That’s okay. You didn’t know about my leg.”
“Does it hurt?”
“When it rains.”
He laughed, but she said, “I’m serious. Something about the barometric pressure or the dampness can make it throb.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It used to be bad. Now—” She paused, reached down, pulled up the leg of her blue jeans and extended it so he could see it—scarring and all.
He looked at her leg, then raised his gaze to meet hers. “It almost looks artificial.”
She let her pant leg fall again. “I know. It has something to do with skin grafts.”
“Did you have a lot of skin grafts?”
“I had a lot of operations. And therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.”
“Sounds hard.”
“It wasn’t hard as much as I feel like I missed five years of my life. Or I was set back five years. I’m twenty-five but in a lot of ways I still feel twenty.”
He nodded as things about her fell into place for him. She might have had a boyfriend who was a sort of fiancé but as she’d said, her growth had been stunted while she spent years in and out of the hospital. That more than explained why she looked at him differently.
And why she was the kind of shy that made men feel bold and brave and protective.
She didn’t like him. Well, she did. But not for the reasons he’d hoped.
Their conversation should have brought closure to the feelings rumbling inside him. Instead, disappointment joined them.
But he reminded himself that more often than not relationships didn’t work out. Especially his. So he should be glad she was wise enough, or in need of a job enough, that she’d wanted to talk through everything happening between them so she could keep her job and he could keep his nanny.
After lunch, she left him with the babies, taking Sunday off as they’d agreed. When she got home, he already had the kids in bed so she said goodnight and went to her room. He went to work on Monday with the sense that everything had gone back to normal between them.
But Monday evening she had Robert bring dinner down for both of them. As he shrugged out of his suit jacket, she set out plates and utensils. The kids sat in highchairs, banging rattles on trays covered with little round O cereal that they alternated between munching on and tossing.
He tried not to think about how much this felt like the scene he’d envisioned with him and Liliah after she’d told him she was pregnant. Though he hated to admit to the memory, he’d painted a picture in his brain of them as a happy family and Tory was stepping right into it.
A warning bell went off in his head. But he dismissed it. He was a grown man with twins who needed a nanny. He’d been too hurt by the twins’ mom to fall face-first into a fantasy. Especially not a fantasy with a woman who’d told him there could be nothing between them.
She pulled the top off the container of hot roast beef and gravy, and the scent filled the air, making his stomach growl.
“Nobody cooks like Cook.”
Tory eagerly agreed. “I know! I’ll probably gain fifty pounds before I leave here.”
He laughed. See? Normal conversation. He knew they could handle this. A little chitchat didn’t have to equate to either one of them getting too personal.
“Fifty pounds in eighteen years isn’t so bad. Some people do a lot worse.”
Dropping mashed potatoes onto her plate, she winced. “I don’t see myself staying eighteen years.”
“You don’t?”
In a voice that was soft and filled with regret, she said, “No. At first I thought I might, but the twins won’t need a nanny that long. Plus, I think I’d like to finish school.”
She handed the bowl to him and he took it. “Really?”
“Yeah, you know? Before the accident I was taking business classes.” She peeked over. “But I love your kids so much—I love everybody’s kids so much, that…well…now I think I’d like to be a teacher. I’ll need to go to school to do that.”
So maybe their conversations hadn’t been so great after all? If she was dropping hints about leaving and talking about going to school, maybe he was the only one who’d gotten comfortable?
Still, she was his nanny, not his girlfriend, not the twins’ mom. She had no responsibility to them. And after everything she’d been through she deserved to have a life, a dream.
“I think you’d be a great teacher.”
“I had some wonderful teachers in school. Especially elementary school. You probably won’t believe this but I was a shy kid.”
He eased back in his chair and grinned. “No kidding.”
“I was even more pitifully shy back then. But my first- and second-grade teachers really went out of their way to integrate me into the class.” She took a bite of roast beef sodden in gravy, then wiped her napkin across her lips. “That’s what I want to be.”
“An elementary school teacher?”
“Somebody who sees what kids are going through and helps them.”
His chest loosened and warmed. The feelings that awakened in his system were so foreign he couldn’t have named them if he tried. She really would be a wonderful teacher. But more than that, she was a great person. “I think that’s a fantastic idea.”
<
br /> “So…” she said, dragging out the word as if unsure of how to make her next point and he knew what was coming. She was going to turn in her notice. When the next semester of school started, she’d be done working for him.
“I’m looking into taking night classes.”
He glanced up sharply. “Night classes?”
Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “Well, you don’t think I’m going to leave you with two babies by yourself, do you?”
His heart stuttered. Not because she was staying but because she’d thought of him, considered the kids, as she made plans for herself.
She really was Liliah’s opposite.
The unnamed emotions bubbling through his system expanded and warmed even more. But in a way that scared him. In a few short weeks, he was beginning to have incredibly strong feelings for her.
Because she was nice.
Sweet.
Everything he’d always wanted in a woman.
But he couldn’t have her.
Hell, he shouldn’t even want her. If he didn’t remain wary, he was going to get his heart broken again.
“You don’t have to stay.”
“I love your kids. And I heard what you said the first day I was here.”
His eyebrows rose in question.
“You said the kids had been abandoned by their mom. You wouldn’t leave them too because they needed some continuity. I can be part of that continuity.”
His throat clogged with emotion. Could she really be that selfless, that sweet?
She placed her hand on top of his and smiled. “I like feeling needed. I think being here with you and the kids, being needed, is the biggest thing that’s helping me to move forward.” She pulled her hand back. “Until you guys, I had every intention of spending the rest of my life at home, locked away, not quite feeling sorry for myself, but certainly not wanting anyone to see me. You make me feel good about myself.”
His breathing froze. He made her feel good about herself? She was singlehandedly restoring his faith in humanity. She was so far removed from Liliah it was hard to believe they were in the same species, let alone the same gender of that species. And she believed he was helping her?
He cleared his throat. “You’ve done some good things for me too.”
Her smile widened, but before she could say anything, Sam began to cry.
She bounced from her seat and was at his highchair in seconds. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” He raised his hands for her to pick him up and she did. No hesitation. No thought. She just reached down, undid his highchair security, and pulled him into her arms.
“You want somebody to rock you?”
Sam snuggled into her, but Chance rose. “I’ll rock him. You eat.”
“No. No.” She brushed him off with a quick wave of her hand. “You eat. I think our sweet Sam might just need a minute or two of private time.”
With that she left and Chance sat down again. Cindy gurgled at him. “Yeah. She’s a keeper all right. But we all might be in big trouble because she’s not ready for what my gut keeps telling me I want.” He sucked in a breath. “Hell, she’s not even available for what we want.” And if he didn’t get ahold of himself fairly soon, he was going say or do something stupid again and the next time she really would leave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN THE KITCHEN HAD BEEN cleaned and the kids were in bed, Tory went to her room. Chance put on his jacket, got into his SUV and drove to his mother’s.
He didn’t knock, just entered the magnificent foyer and headed for her private rooms. There he did knock. She answered immediately.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was engaged?”
Gwen motioned him into her sitting room. “Who was engaged?”
He fell to one of the club chairs in front of the silent television. “Tory.”
His mother’s mouth dropped open slightly as she sat on the chair beside his. “Oh.” She frowned. “Does it matter?”
“Only if making a fool of myself with her matters.”
She frowned again. “How could you make a fool of yourself?”
“I kissed her.”
Her eyes popped. “You kissed an engaged woman?”
He tossed his hands in despair. “I didn’t know she was engaged.”
“Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I’d sort of forgotten that part of the story.” She winced. “I’d heard about how his parents had found the engagement ring.” Her eyes pleaded for forgiveness. “You know I don’t like to gossip, but her accident with Jason was the worst thing to happen in town for a decade. We all knew every excruciating detail.”
“So Kate knew?”
“Well, yes.” She thought for a second. “Honestly, Chance, with Jason in a personal care facility, and him not really proposing, I have to admit that I assumed Tory had moved on. If Kate somehow plays into you kissing Tory, I’m guessing she thought as I did that Tory had moved on.” Her brow furrowed. “But for you to be so upset about kissing her, that has to mean she hasn’t.”
“No. She hasn’t. She wears the ring on a chain around her neck.”
“How romantic.” She caught Chance’s gaze. “And loyal.” She shook her head. “What a remarkable woman.”
“Um. Thanks, Mom. I’m trying to think of ways to stop liking her and you’re not helping.”
She laughed. “Chance, you’re falling for her because she’s helping you with your kids. That’s all. You’re just grateful. You need to get out and mingle more.”
“I don’t want another relationship. Obviously, I’m no good at them. And I don’t want the kids to get involved with someone only to get hurt when it doesn’t work out.”
“Then it sounds like you’re going to have to start doing things like eat out more. As it is, you’re practically playing house.”
He nodded. That made perfect sense. His feelings for Tory were probably just an extension of their living arrangement. Being together almost twenty-four/seven did feel like playing house.
So all he had to do was avoid her.
But the next morning, instead of her usual flannel pajamas Tory wore a pair that was soft and pretty. He hurried out of the house so he didn’t spend so much time gaping at her. But around ten Tory called him, telling him the babies missed him and hearing her voice turned his heart into a jackhammer.
He had supper with his mom that night, and when he returned Tory was already in bed. He breathed a sigh of relief until the next morning when her sleep-tousled hair reminded him of things that were best not thought about around two babies.
By Friday he was just about crazy from the attraction. He told himself the lust racing through him was undoubtedly the result of wanting something he couldn’t have—forbidden fruit. And though that worked, he had dinner with his mom.
On Saturday morning, Tory helped him with the kids’ wakeup routine. They played with them, fed them jars of smashed up veggies and fruit for lunch and then put them down for a nap. Just when he would have ducked out to save himself from having to spend too much time with her, Robert brought their lunch down from Cook.
As she opened the containers, he set dishes on the table, his gut twisting with a cross between giddiness and trepidation that they’d spend an hour alone. He was supposed to be avoiding spending too much time with her. Yet here he was, about to have lunch.
“So did you enjoy dinner at your mom’s last night?”
He stiffened. Though her voice was soft and sweet, her question was the kind of question a friend would ask another friend. And part of him just wanted to answer. To like her. To be her friend. But he knew how that scenario ended. Every time they got close he wanted to be more than friends.
All of this would be so much easier if they didn’t have to live together. But they did. That’s how she cared for the babies.
Still, did she have to do things like arrange for him to eat lunch with her? If she left at noon on Saturdays and Sundays the way she was supposed to, he wouldn’t be fighting these feelings right now.
Reminded of the stiff, but safe, way his mom ran her house, he decided that maybe it was time he took a page out of her book. His mother, though generous with staff, didn’t become friends with them.
“My mother’s a wonderful hostess.”
“Yes. She is.” She filled a bowl with soup and handed it to him. “Anybody interesting there?”
“Yes.” Lots of people. But if he intended to put some distance between them, then they shouldn’t be talking. He knew his feelings were all being dictated by an unholy combination of biology and hormones. He knew it was easy for a guy to fall for the woman who was helping him with his kids. And she was really tempting.
But she didn’t seem to understand. Because she was one of those innocently sweet people, she didn’t realize that just being around her tempted him.
He sighed. Sometimes the best way to handle a problem was just to handle it. Say the thing that was on his mind, make her understand.
He set down his soup spoon. “Look. I know my mom told you the story of me and the twins’ mom.”
“A little.”
“Well, then let me fill you in on the rest. Liliah was a selfish, ruthless pain in the butt.”
She laughed.
He snorted in derision. “You can laugh because she didn’t leave you with twins.”
“But you’re handling it all very well.”
He tossed his napkin to the table. “No. I’m not. Not really. I’m handling things because I have you here. Without you I wouldn’t even have swings or a play yard.”
“I’m sure Gwen would have—”
“Stop!”
Her face froze and he felt like kicking himself but he kept going. “I have a chip on my shoulder a mile wide when it comes to women. You shouldn’t even want to be my friend. And I most certainly don’t want to get to like you too much because you’re committed to somebody else. So stop. Stop talking to me. Stop being nice to me. Stop trying to make us a family and just be a nanny.”
The kitchen became so quiet the drop of a penny would have sounded like the crack of a rifle.
Then Sam began to squawk.
“He shouldn’t be up from his nap already!” She bounced from her seat, as if grateful for the interruption. “I’ll change him and rock him back to sleep but then I have to get going.”