And then he didn't say anything.
And still didn't say anything.
She pressed her palms against her eyes. "Can we please just forget about this whole night?"
The heater kicked to a lower setting, not burning her bare legs quite so badly.
Was Jace... chuckling?
She turned her head, still half-hiding her face behind her fingers.
He was laughing, drawing one hand down his face. He didn't look particularly happy.
"I messed things up completely," he said. "Bumbled my way through like a seventh grader. It's no wonder you were confused."
He sighed. "I'm sorry to have embarrassed you. I should've told Chuck to do his own courting. He is a nice guy, but—you don't think I'm too old for you?" he asked suddenly.
Nothing he'd said indicated he was interested in her. Just sorry that she'd been embarrassed.
She turned her face back to the front, kept her eyes and burning cheeks covered. "I'm twenty-four. You're only six years older."
"You're twenty-four?"
"Don't sound so incredulous," she snapped. She wished to be out of this truck. Wished the night was over. Wished she could sink through the ground.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "You just don't look twenty-four. In a good way."
She was too resigned to even care. How many times in one night could a guy tell you he wasn't interested?
The tires crunched on the familiar gravel drive, even through the snow. Thank goodness. They were home. She could check on Bo and then hide in her room. Forever.
The truck rolled to a stop.
"Amber, I..."
Jace's hesitant start made her pause when she would've jumped out of the truck—before he'd even thrown it in Park. Her hand closed over the cool door handle.
"I haven't even thought about dating anybody since Patricia died."
Hot emotion rose in her throat in a knot. She nodded. Of course he hadn't.
"We should go in," she whispered, throat tight. Ten more minutes. Thirty at the most, and she could hide away and lick her wounds.
"Wait for me, the porch steps are always slick."
She heard his words but already had the truck door open and her feet on the ground.
She didn't want to wait, didn't want him to see how near tears she was. Again.
Stupid.
She crossed the yard, snow getting between her toes in the fancy, not-ranch-appropriate heels she'd worn to the party.
She'd just hold onto the wooden railing.
Except it was covered in an inch of snow that bit into her hand.
She could sense Jace coming up behind her. One hand rested at her waist as she took the second stair. It was slick, but not too bad.
She turned to tell him so—
And her heel caught in a crack between two wooden boards.
She pitched forward, but he was there. Before she hit her hands and knees on the porch, he'd caught her with both arms around her waist.
Pulled her back upright.
She was too close, standing almost chest-to-chest.
She was too humiliated to look him full in the face.
But—
"Amber..." His voice was a near-groan.
And then he was pulling her even closer, one hand moving to bury itself in her hair.
His lips crashed down on hers. His kiss was both fierce and gentle. His hand on her hip was possessive.
And she never wanted him to let go.
But snow was melting between her toes, and she couldn't help the full-body shiver that wracked her.
He pulled away, eyes wide and nostrils flaring with emotion.
"I didn't mean—"
To do that.
He didn't get the words out before the door opened, a block of light spilling onto the porch and illuminating them.
"Dad! Amber! You're home."
Chapter 5
Jace strode inside and scooped the pajama-clad boy into his arms.
Emotion clenched his chest like a saddle cinch drawn too tight. His son was all right. At least, he seemed to be.
Jace was acutely aware of Amber stepping into the entryway behind him, closing the door.
That kiss!
Bo pounded on his shoulder. "Put me down. I want Amber!"
Yeah, get in line, son.
Jace set Bo on his feet. The boy bounced—bounced!—to his nanny.
Amber gathered his son into her arms. Her eyes closed as she held him close, and Jace recognized, not for the first time, how deeply she cared.
"You scared us," Amber said, still holding the boy. She set Bo away from her. "Show me your tummy."
Bo proudly pulled his shirt up high enough that he covered his face.
From where he stood, Jace could see small red splotches up and down Bo's back.
Amber ran one hand down Bo's tummy. "Does it itch?"
"Nu-uh." Bo dropped his shirt and bounced again.
It was well after his bedtime. Where was this energy coming from?
"Can I have a snack? I'm hungry."
Amber ruffled Bo's hair. "You're always hungry."
"Just like Daddy!" Bo chimed, glancing over his shoulder at Jace.
Jace met Amber's eyes over the boy's head. She'd responded to his kiss, and just remembering it now was tightening his gut.
Yes, he was hungry. For Amber.
She looked away quickly, color climbing into her cheeks.
This night hadn't turned out anything like he'd thought. He'd expected the boring old Cattlemen's Ball. Had gone into it with all the enthusiasm of the Grinch. And now he was thinking things he definitely shouldn't be about his son's nanny.
Mrs. Ritter bustled out of the kitchen, already bundling herself into a thick parka, her purse over one arm. "I'm sorry to cut and run, but have you seen that snow out there? I've got to make it home before"—she caught herself and smiled down at Bo—"before Santa gets here."
Jace followed her out the front door, taking her arm to help her down the steps.
He quizzed her about Bo.
When she had her hand on the door of her 4x4 SUV, she turned to him. "Look. I'd put him in bed like you said. I was watching TV. All of a sudden, he was standing in the door. When I put him back in bed, his shirt rode up, and I saw the spots. That’s when I called you."
She pulled open the door without waiting for him to say anything else. It was snowing, maybe even harder than before. Not the best conditions for a chat.
But something about the way her eyes had shifted told Jace that maybe she hadn't given him all of the story.
As a babysitter, she'd come highly recommended by a friend. Maybe he was paranoid, but he sensed something was off.
He rubbed one hand over his face as he carefully trudged up the porch steps and back into the house.
He should head out to the barn, make sure his stock was tucked in for the night, and check on the neighbor’s visiting puppies.
But worry for Bo won out. He'd make sure his son was all right first.
In the foyer, he took off his overcoat and hung it in the coat closet. In the living room, he shed the tuxedo jacket and his boots, then searched for his son in his shirtsleeves and socks.
Bo and Amber were in the brightly-lit kitchen. Bo sat at the table, his feet swinging back and forth above the floor.
Amber was at the stove, assembling what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich.
She'd taken off her coat—it hung over one of the empty kitchen chairs—leaving him to gaze at her in in those heels and that killer dress.
"…sometimes I get the munchies when I take medicine too," she was saying over her shoulder to Bo.
He remembered the shiver that had gone through her when he'd held her close. It was nice and toasty in the house, but surely she'd like a chance to warm up.
He came up behind her, reached out to touch her shoulder. "Amber—"
Her skin was a soft as a baby kitten, but she jumped beneath his touch.
"H
ey," he held both hands in front of him. "Thought you might want to change out of that dress. Get warmed up. I think I can handle a grilled cheese."
"Fine." She didn't meet his eyes as she quickly ducked down the hallway toward her bedroom at the back of the house.
Crap. He'd messed everything up because he couldn't keep his lips to himself. He hadn't spared one thought for Chuck. Or Bo.
He had no idea what he was doing.
Except making a sandwich. He could make a sandwich. And one for himself, because the hors d'ouerves he'd consumed at the party suddenly weren't enough.
"Mrs. Ritter said you got out of bed. Were you feeling sick?"
He stuck the last piece of bread on top and turned to check on Bo.
The boy was standing on top of the table, reaching for the overhead light fixture.
"Bo!" Jace lunged and grabbed his son by the waist, then set him back in the chair. "Why do you have so much energy?"
Bo wiggled in the chair but stayed seated. He shrugged. "I dunno."
Jace put on his Dad Face. "Did you get out of bed because you felt sick?"
Bo shrugged again, his eyes downcast. "Sorta."
Amber returned, watching from the doorway. She'd put on red pajama pants with reindeer hoofprints on them—at least he supposed that's what they were—and an oversize T-shirt. Her hair was down around her shoulders, her face scrubbed free of makeup. She had been wearing makeup, hadn't she?
She looked nothing like the glamorous woman in the hot dress.
So his attraction should've waned.
But it didn’t.
He wanted to go to her, draw her into his arms again.
It was as if he'd seen her for the first time. And now he couldn't un-see the beautiful woman she was.
She again avoided his eyes as she entered the room.
She went to the stove and flipped the grilled cheese sandwiches as he sat on the edge of the seat across from Bo.
"Did you sneak into the pantry while Mrs. Ritter was watching TV?" Amber asked from the stove.
Bo shook his head, but Amber glanced over her shoulder, finally meeting Jace's eyes. She shook her head slightly.
She didn't believe Bo either.
Amber wanted nothing more than to retreat to her bedroom. The clock was edging toward midnight, but she didn't expect any Christmas goodies from Santa.
Right now she'd settle for a magic potion that would make Jace forget the events that had transpired tonight.
Especially the kiss.
It had been everything Amber had dreamed of. Until the moment Jace had pulled away.
The look on his face...
He'd been terrified. Of kissing her.
She just wanted to go to bed, but Bo was wound up. Plus, she wanted to make sure the rash was fading and not getting worse.
"Bo..." Jace's voice held a hint of warning to it.
"Maybe I came to the kitchen and got a snack first," the boy said, head hanging low.
"How come Mrs. Ritter didn't see you?" Amber asked.
Jace went to the pantry and opened the cabinet door.
"I army-crawled past the living room," Bo said. "And kept the light off in the kitchen."
Army crawled. Boys.
Amber had never been a nanny before this job, hadn't spent much time around little kids, and Bo's antics had often surprised her in the beginning. Not so much anymore. He'd been hungry.
"What'd you eat?" she asked.
"I think I can answer that," Jace said. When he turned, he had a half-empty bag of corn nuts in his hand.
"And you're still hungry?" Amber said.
Bo nodded exaggeratedly.
Amber slid the sandwiches on paper plates she pulled from the cabinet above the stove. No use getting more dishes dirty this late.
She took Bo's sandwich to the table, taking time to hug the boy's shoulders before she sat in the adjacent chair.
Jace leaned his hips against the counter, munching on his sandwich where he stood. She could barely look at him. Even in his sock feet, with the collar of his shirt open, he was easily the sexiest man she'd ever known. His evening scruff had come in, making a dark shadow on his jaw.
Now she knew how that jaw felt under her fingers.
She cut her eyes to the tabletop. That was not a safe line of thinking.
Bo was stuffing his face. "C'n we watch a"—he gulped—"Christmas movie? What about that one with the green guy whose heart was too small?"
"Not tonight, buddy," Jace said. "Did you forget it's Christmas Eve?" He glanced at the clock. "Barely."
"But, Daaaadd."
"Remember, Santa can't come until you're asleep in bed," Amber said.
"Yeah," Bo sounded dejected as he kicked the table's center post. Then he jumped up from his chair and started bounding around the kitchen, jumping every third step. "Tomorrow's Christmas! Tomorrow's Christmas!"
She caught Jace's concerned glance.
"Should he be this energetic after having the Benadryl?" Jace asked. "That stuff usually knocks me out."
She'd been wondering the same thing. "Do you want me to call the nurse line back? Make sure nothing else is wrong?"
He grimaced. "I can do it. It's supposed to be your night off."
Bo ran toward her and slammed into her stomach with an "oof!" His arms wrapped around her in a hug.
She nuzzled her face into his hair. He smelled like kid shampoo and boy-sweat.
"I'll do it," she told Jace without looking at him. "You try and wrangle this guy back into bed."
She dialed her cell phone as Jace hauled his son over his shoulder. Bo laughed, pounding on his dad's back.
Amber forced herself to concentrate on the automated prompts that would get her to the on-call nurse.
Seeing Jace and Bo together, playful and loving and ornery, always made her ache for the childhood she hadn't had.
And for the family she wanted to be a part of. A real part.
When she ended the call, murmured voices from the living room drew her in that direction.
The living room had been the first draw to this job—before she'd even met Bo, before she'd found out what Jace was like as a father. She'd sat on the couch with its afghan folded neatly across the headrest... and she’d wanted. Wanted to be a part of the household that left Legos strewn across the living room floor. The wall was covered in family pictures and knick-knacks. It had felt like home.
Now she glanced into the room.
Both father and son were tucked on the couch under that same afghan. A Christmas movie was playing after all, though she knew The Grinch was less than an hour without commercials.
Bo's eyes were glued to the TV, but Jace glanced up at her, a chagrined smile crossing his lips. I gave in, he mouthed.
She couldn't help a return smile. "The nurse said that Benadryl causes some kids to have a lot of energy. She didn't think there was anything to worry about, as long as there are no other symptoms that pop up."
Jace nodded. "Thank you. For being here tonight. For knowing to call that line."
"Taking care of Bo is my job."
Her throat closed up as she pushed the words out. It was true. Taking care of Bo was her job.
But she also loved the boy as if he were her own son.
She edged away, toward the hall.
Everything was okay now. Jace was tucked-in on the couch with Bo.
She could go to bed.
Except Bo chose that moment to look away from the TV.
"Amber, snuggle with us!"
"Oh, no."
Bo stuck out his lower lip. "Please! Pretty please with whipped cream and a cherry and sprinkles on top. I need your snuggles."
Oh, she loved this boy.
But she was also aware of the man sitting beside him, aware of the intent stare he was giving her. One that she couldn't quite meet and didn't know how to decipher.
She focused on Bo again. "Honey, I—"
"There's plenty of room," Jace said quietly. "Unless
you're too tired."
"Yeah, there's plenty of room!" Bo echoed.
How could she say no to the pair of them?
Her heart pounded as she rounded the couch so that Bo was between her and Jace. Bo lifted the blanket, and she snuggled in until her shoulder was pressed against the boy's.
She propped her sock feet on the coffee table. Jace's were there too, a foot of open space between them.
With the overhead lights off, only the colorful lights of the Christmas tree and the TV screen illuminated the room. A window stretched long next to the TV and, because the blinds hadn't been pulled, reflected the room back to them.
Her eyes lingered there instead of on the TV. Was Jace... watching her? His head was turned so that he was looking over Bo's head.
But he might just be staring into space.
She felt the couch move when the man shifted slightly. Then again, a few minutes later.
"Oh, I love this part!" Bo cried. On the TV screen, the Grinch was sneaking into The Whos' houses and stealing all of their Christmases.
Jace ruffled his son's hair. "You've got to try harder to fall asleep."
Bo murmured something unintelligible.
And instead of returning his hand to his lap or something, Jace stretched his arm over the back of the couch so that his fingers brushed her shoulder.
It was just happenstance.
She stared at the reflection. She was too far away to make out Jace's expression in the blurry reflection.
And then he shifted again, and his toe nudged hers.
Surprised, she couldn't help the turn of her chin toward him.
He was staring at her, considering her. His eyes were warm.
Her belly dipped as if she were riding on a rollercoaster.
His index finger traced a small pattern on her shoulder. Even through her T-shirt, she felt burned by his touch.
She couldn't hold his gaze for long. What was he looking for?
She was so confused.
But as her lashes fluttered down, as she started to turn her chin, his finger moved to touch her jaw. She froze.
Her gaze flicked back to his.
Don't turn away, he mouthed.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Why? Was there anything left to say?
Are you sorry? she mouthed in return. For the kiss. He had to know what she meant. Her stomach tightened into a tiny ball as she waited for his answer.
The Nanny’s Christmas Wish Page 4