Twelfth Night Proposal. Karen Smith Rose
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that stirring again, he said, “You’re very good with her.”
“Thank you. I’ve been waiting for some kind of sign from you—” She stopped and looked embarrassed.
“Sign?”
“Yes. To know if I’m doing a good job…to know if I’m doing what you want me to do with Heather. She’s a wonderful little girl and I love being with her. But you’re her parent, and I want to make sure she’s learning what you want her to learn.”
What he wanted her to learn.
He knew Verity wasn’t talking about colors and numbers. “Jolene hired you and gave you a seal of approval, so I guess I thought that was enough. As she probably told you, I’ve tried nannies before. After two days, I know whether they’re going to last or not…whether they fit with Heather or not. I fired one because she just wanted to watch TV and read all day and left Heather on her own. Another quit because she said she didn’t have enough free time. You might decide that’s true for you, too.”
“I don’t need much free time.”
Curious, he asked, “Why not?”
“I’m new in town. I really don’t know anyone. So when I’m free, I study for the course I’m auditing, read or knit. I’m not very exciting,” she admitted, her cheeks pinkening a little.
The blush looked good on her. In fact, he was having trouble unlocking his gaze from hers. “You’ll have friends once you start taking more courses. That is, if you stay.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be right now,” she murmured softly, and he felt himself almost leaning toward her. He imagined she had slightly leaned toward him. The urge to reach out and run his thumb along her cheek was so strong he balled his hand into a fist. He didn’t know what was going on today, but he didn’t like it.
After he picked up the bag of crackers, he motioned to Heather. “Come on, let’s feed more ducks. Those over there didn’t get any yet.”
He was twelve years older than this young woman who’d begun to fascinate him. He’d never given a glance to younger women before. Not only was she younger, but he saw vulnerability and innocence in those eyes. He could be wrong, but he doubted it. No matter what her life story, it was safest for him to keep his distance.
That was exactly what he was going to do.
Each stroke of Verity Sumpter’s hairbrush through her hair was meant to be monotonous and soothing, but it wasn’t. All too easily she could imagine Mr. Montgomery’s hands stroking her hair. The thoughts were making her hot, bothered and agitated. From the moment she’d set eyes on Leo Montgomery her heart had tripped a little. If she had to admit it, her heart had tripped a lot. Today was the first he’d noticed her…really noticed her.
He’d probably have noticed her from day one if she’d applied makeup, highlighted her hair, spent the time on spiral curls and dolled herself up, as the casting agent had for that commercial she’d made.
That commercial.
Her twin brother, Sean, had encouraged her to do it and teased her saying, maybe if she did, she’d forget her tomboy days forever. Dear Sean.
When tears came to her eyes, she let them well up this time as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. He’d been gone for eleven months now, and the missing still overwhelmed her sometimes. She and Sean had been as close as any twins could have been. They’d shared secrets and jokes and sports and even attended the same college. He’d screened her dates and she’d always looked over the girls he’d brought home.
When a casting agent had approached her in the library on campus, he’d explained he was looking for college girls to make a series of commercials for a new soda—the company was targeting the college crowd. Verity hadn’t given much thought to the idea until Sean had heard about it. He’d teased, cajoled and coaxed, insisting the experience would be good for her.
Her straight-as-a-ruler hair had become a mass of curls. She’d traded her glasses for contact lenses, and makeup had made her eyes look huge and her lips much fuller. No one knew if the commercial would ever make it to the TV screen, and she hadn’t heard anything from the company other than receiving her payment for the hours she’d worked as a model.
After the shoot, Verity had decided curling her hair for an hour or more, applying makeup and dressing up was all simply too much trouble. The red highlights washed out of her hair, and eventually the curls straightened into looser waves and were caught up in a practical ponytail once more. When one of the soft contact lenses had torn, she’d gone back to using her glasses.
Then, last January, Sean had the skiing accident. When he’d died, her life had fallen apart. She’d gone through the motions to earn her diploma—
Noise in the hall startled Verity. Her bedroom, sitting area and bathroom were located at the opposite end of the house from the master suite and Heather’s bedroom, along with another guest bedroom. Mr. Montgomery took over Heather’s care on the rare nights he was home and, after he’d put Heather to bed, she usually didn’t hear another sound.
Now, however, she heard little feet slapping on the hardwood floor, Leo’s deep baritone calling, “Heather, you come back here,” and the little girl’s giggles as she came closer to Verity’s door.
Verity had crossed into the sitting area when the door burst open and Heather ran through the room, naked, the ends of her hair wet, soapsuds still on her shoulders. The bump on her head hadn’t slowed her down one iota.
Halfway across Verity’s sitting room, Leo stopped. “I shouldn’t have come in here without knocking.”
Verity laughed. “I think Heather took care of announcing you.”
Leo shook his head. “I’ll collect her if she doesn’t squiggle out of my arms again. She is so slippery when she’s wet—”
“And she hates to stand still while you dry her off. I know.”
Her gaze collided with his, and there was that shakingly, fascinating awareness again.
Breaking eye contact, he said, “Since I consider your room to be off-limits to me, do you want me to get her or do you want to do it?”
“I don’t mind if you do,” Verity murmured as she continued to stare at him. Leo was still wearing the black polo shirt and khakis he’d had on that afternoon. He was tanned, and his arm muscles were obvious under the shirtsleeves. His stomach was flat and she suspected hard. His hips were slim.
When he turned, she chastised herself for liking every bit of his backside, too. She couldn’t be attracted to her employer. Besides the fact that she was tired of men letting her down, she was much younger than Leo Montgomery. She’d seen the picture of Heather’s mother in the little girl’s room. Carolyn Montgomery had looked poised with her perfect makeup and blond pageboy. She was absolutely beautiful. Verity imagined any woman would have trouble living up to that. Jolene Connehy, Mr. Montgomery’s sister, had told her honestly that he wasn’t over his wife’s death, even though it had been two years. Verity could understand that. She knew she’d never get over losing Sean.
Leo stepped into Verity’s bedroom, and the very fact that he was so near her double bed disconcerted her. Maybe because ever since this afternoon pictures had been swimming in her head—pictures of Leo kissing her, pictures of her kissing him back.
His gaze had gone to the bed, too, with its white chenille spread, its maple bookcase headboard, where she’d lined up some of her favorite reads. But her mind wasn’t on her books as she said in almost a whisper, “She likes to play hide-and-seek under the bed.”
With a shake of his head, as if he couldn’t believe he was doing this, he got down on his knees and lifted the edge of the spread. His voice was filled with affectionate frustration as he called, “Hey, you. You’ve got to get out from under there and put on some pajamas.”
“I don’t wanna go nighty-night.