His New Nanny. Carla Cassidy
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His eyes gleamed with pride. “She is, but equally important is the fact that she has a loving heart.” The light in his eyes was doused as quickly as it had shone. “I’m assuming you didn’t get her to talk.”
“I didn’t try to get her to talk,” Amanda replied. “Melanie has no reason to trust me right now, and the last thing I want to do is push her to do something she obviously doesn’t want to do.”
He leaned forward and for a moment his eyes shimmered with such torment she felt it deep inside of her. “Then why doesn’t she trust me? She must know I’d never hurt her, that I love her more than anyone else on the face of the earth.”
The momentary vulnerability on his features ripped through her, and she wanted to grab his hand, stroke his brow, give him a comforting touch. But she didn’t. Instead she leaned back in the chair to distance herself from the impulse.
“I can’t answer that, Sawyer. Elective muteness is difficult to understand and we can’t know what’s going on inside Melanie’s head.” She frowned, realizing she sounded clinical and detached. “She’ll talk, Sawyer. When she’s ready she’ll talk, but Melanie is the one in control of that, and we just have to be patient.”
The moment of vulnerability disappeared as his eyes glittered once again. “Patience has never been one of my strengths. I want what I want when I want it.” The strength of the statement coupled with his gaze, which seemed to linger on her lips, caused her breath to catch in her chest.
“Unfortunately, you aren’t in control of this situation,” she replied, hoping she didn’t reveal how she felt. She straightened in the chair. “I read the news reports about your wife’s murder.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she felt the need to interject his wife into the conversation, needed to remind herself that he was a grieving man rather than an attractive, single hunk ready for a relationship.
Before he could reply, a scream pierced the air.
Chapter Three
Sawyer shot out of the chair and raced from the room. He knew that scream. Oh, God, but he knew that scream. Melanie! He took the stairs two at a time, vaguely aware of Amanda hurrying behind him.
His heart crashed against his rib cage as the scream came again. The sound of sheer terror ripped through him. The minute he entered the dark bedroom, he saw his daughter silhouetted in front of the window.
As he grabbed Melanie and pulled her tight against his chest, Amanda flipped on the overhead light. The sleep glaze in Melanie’s eyes fell away and she uttered a single small sob as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
When he realized it must have been the darkness of the room and a bad dream that had tumbled her out of bed and not some physical threat, he relaxed a bit.
“Shh, it’s all right,” he soothed as he stroked down her trembling back. “It was just a dream, just a very bad dream.” Although he said the words, he knew it was a very bad memory that had caused his daughter to scream.
While he held and tried to calm her, Amanda took the night-light out of the wall outlet. He was almost relieved that they had left the office. As he’d sat talking to her, all he’d been able to think about was whether her lips tasted as soft and yielding as they looked, or if her sweet-smelling hair felt like silk.
It was a dangerous train of thought. The last thing he wanted or needed was the complication of a woman in his life. His life was complicated enough as it was. No matter how attractive he found Amanda Rockport, he’d do well to remember he had more important things on his plate…like staying out of prison.
Within minutes Melanie had calmed and been tucked back into bed. Sawyer got a new lightbulb out of her dresser drawer and changed the burnt out one in the night-light.
He remained in the doorway until he was certain Melanie was once again asleep, then he stepped into the hallway where Amanda awaited him.
“The bulb in the night-light needs to be changed once a week, no matter what,” he said. In the close confines of the hallway her scent eddied in the air, the bewitching scent of night-blooming jasmine.
“Will she be all right?” she asked, her concern evident in her voice.
“She should be fine for the rest of the night. She has occasional nightmares. That’s why the nightlight is so important.” He swept a hand through his hair as a deep sorrow cut through him.
Would Melanie forever be scarred by that night? He should have made different choices. Guilt and recriminations ripped him up inside. He should have done things differently, then none of this would have happened.
She took a step toward him. “Children are amazingly resilient, Sawyer.” She placed a hand on his forearm, her long slender fingers warm on his arm. “She’ll be fine in time.”
There was a softness, an innocence about her that he wanted to fall into. Somehow in the past couple of years he’d forgotten about kindness and innocence and the inviting softness that some women possessed.
He stepped back from her, and her hand fell to her side. “The problem is I don’t know how much time I have.” He motioned her toward the stairs and away from Melanie’s bedroom. “I don’t know when there’s going to be a knock on the door and Lucas Jamison will be standing there with an arrest warrant.”
They started down the stairs. “Lucas Jamison? Is he a policeman?” she asked.
“He’s a good friend, but he’s also the sheriff.” They reached the bottom of the stairs. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked. He wasn’t ready to call it a night, wasn’t prepared for the nightmares his own sleep would probably bring.
“A cup of coffee would be nice,” she agreed, and followed him into the kitchen. She sat at the table while he put on half a pot to brew.
When the coffee began to gurgle into the glass carafe he turned back to face her. “What are you doing here?”
A tiny frown danced across her forehead. “What do you mean?”
“I mean why would you leave your home to travel to a small bayou in Louisiana to take a nanny job and work for a man you’d never met? I’ve seen your credentials. You could have a job anywhere.”
“I had a job at a local middle school in Kansas City, but I decided I needed a change.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his. He had the feeling that there was more to her story than she was telling.
Even though she was Johnny’s younger sister, before hiring her he had done a thorough background check. He knew she had no criminal record, had never been married and, until a couple of months ago, had worked as a counselor at the middle school she’d mentioned.
Her eyes shone as she finally met his gaze. “I’m here to help Melanie, that’s all that’s important to me. And that should be all that’s important to you.”
Secrets. Everyone seemed to have a couple. He poured them each a cup of coffee, then joined her at the table. “Melanie likes you,” he said.
“I like her.” She took a sip of her coffee and studied him above the rim of the cup. She placed her cup back on the table and wrapped her fingers around it. “She seems rather tentative, as if she’s anticipating me yelling at her…or hitting her.”
Her words created a small ball of rage inside him. He tamped it down and took a drink, then replied, “My wife was a woman who didn’t particularly enjoy motherhood. She was often impatient with Melanie.” He took another drink to stop himself from speaking ill of the dead.
“It’s obvious that Melanie adores you.”
“I think that’s one of the reasons I’m not in jail at the moment.”
She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Lucas