CHAPTER TWO

      “WELL, you’ve finally come back!”

      Still blinded by the sun’s glare, it took Nicole a moment or two to discern the owner of the amused voice that greeted her when she and Tommy returned to the library.

      She squinted at the figure reclining in one of two leather wing chairs beside a fireplace heaped with dried peony blossoms. “Were we gone very long?”

      “Pierce is about ready to call out the National Guard.” The woman was elegantly thin and quite startlingly beautiful. “Being thrust into instant fatherhood has made him very nervous. He’s afraid you’ve kidnapped the boy.”

      “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

      “Oh, you didn’t worry me,” the woman assured her. “But Pierce is taking his guardianship responsibilities very seriously and seems to feel he has to be on patrol twenty-four hours a day. Are you going to take the job?”

      “If it’s offered to me, yes.”

      “I’m sure it will be.” The woman ran a speculative hazel gaze over Nicole, from her head to her toes and back again. “You certainly have my vote.”

      “Thank you.”

      “My pleasure. You’ve got that look of durability about you that the job requires, although you do dress somewhat more stylishly than I’d have thought suitable.” She yawned delicately. “Better you than me, is all I can say.”

      “You don’t care for children?” Nicole asked, feeling a bit like a Clydesdale horse being assessed for working stamina.

      “Of course I do—at a distance. But I certainly don’t want them planting their sticky little paws all over my good clothes. I’d look out for that rather nice skirt, if I were you. It won’t last half an hour in this place.”

      “I see.” Protective instincts on full alert, Nicole drew Tommy to her and stroked his hair. “Where is the Commander?”

      “Having a word with Miss Janet. We won’t be here for dinner, which I daresay will displease her no end.”

      “I see,” Nicole said again, not at all sure she liked what she was, in fact, seeing. From her expression and tone, it was clear the woman cared for Janet about as much as she cared for children, which wasn’t much.

      The silence which ensued might have grown a little awkward had it not been broken by the sound of footsteps marching down the hall. A moment later, the Commander reappeared.

      “Oh, here you are, sweets.” The woman rose up in a swirl of rose-patterned silk and went to meet him, chucking Tommy under the chin as she passed by. She was tall, perhaps five feet nine or ten, most of which seemed apportioned to her legs, which were enviable. “Your Nanny’s come back and our little boy’s quite safe, aren’t you, Thomas?”

      The Commander smiled tightly. “It never occurred to me he wasn’t, Louise. I take it you’ve introduced yourself to Miss Bennett?”

      “Not formally.” Louise slipped her arm through his and fluttered her long lashes. “But we’ve chatted and I think she’ll be wonderful for the job, Pierce. You can see already how taken she is with Thomas and he with her.”

      “I agree.” Detaching himself from the thin fingers clutching at him, he gestured to Tommy. “Will you take him to the playroom for a few minutes, while I conclude matters with Miss Bennett?”

      The ghost of a grimace soured Louise’s smile. “If you promise not to take too long. I’m presenting an offer on the Willingdon property at four and have another showing at five.”

      “Ten minutes,” he said, and waited until she’d taken Tommy away before turning to Nicole. “Well, Miss Bennett, are you still interested in becoming a nanny?”

      “Absolutely, Commander Warner. Tommy is delightful.”

      He nodded and strode behind the desk. “Good. Then the job’s yours if the terms I’ve laid out here are agreeable to you.”

      He handed her a contract which, for appearances’ sake, she pretended to scrutinize. In fact, she’d have worked for nothing if that’s what he’d asked, but the salary he was proposing to pay her was generous in the extreme.

      “This is more than satisfactory, Commander,” she said, deciding that most of what she earned would go into a trust fund for Tommy.

      “Then we have a deal.” He scrawled his name at the bottom of the page, then offered the pen to her. When she’d signed, he reached out to shake her hand again, another brief, businesslike clasp such as he’d offered when she’d first met him. “I’ll expect you tomorrow morning. Will ten o’clock suit you?”

      “Actually,” she said, trying not to sound overeager, “I can start tonight, if you like. Your friend mentioned that you were dining out and I’d be happy to baby-sit.”

      He looked pleasantly surprised. “Thank you. I’m sure Janet will appreciate having the evening off.”

      “Then I’ll go and collect my things.” Nicole flicked a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I have a few odds and ends to take care of, but I can be back here by six.”

      “Thank you again. I’ll warn Janet to expect you for dinner and leave her to show you to your suite of rooms.”

      “Fine.” She picked up her bag from where she’d left it on the floor next to the desk. “I’ll see you later, Commander.”

      She walked demurely along the hall and out through the front door. Climbed into her car, drove sedately down the driveway, and waited until the house was hidden behind a belt of trees before giving vent to the pent-up sigh of relief that was stretching her lungs to bursting.

      She was home free! Provided she could keep her grief under wraps, the rest would be easy. Once she’d allayed any fears her employer might have regarding her motives, she could erase the lies and half-truths by which she’d gained access to Tommy and present herself for who she really was: his dead mother’s long-lost sister.

      In the meantime, she had shopping to do. She’d come with party clothes, the sort of things a woman packed when she thought she was embarking on a holiday reunion. Sandals, sundresses, cocktail gowns. Beaded bags and diamond studs, spindle heels and sheer silk lingerie. And Pierce Warner’s lady friend was right: such a wardrobe no more fit the role of nanny than that of coffee shop waitress.

      She needed clothes to fit the part. Denim skirts and trim white blouses. Cotton shorts and tops. Flat-heeled sandals and a plain bathrobe to replace the French silk peignoir lurking in the bottom of her suitcase.

      The only things she didn’t need to acquire were a bottomless well of sympathy, an endless supply of tears, of love, of gut-wrenching pity. Those she already had in abundance. She could only hope they’d be enough.

      “Pierce, that’s the fourth time you’ve looked at your watch in the last fifteen minutes and I’m beginning