The Nanny's Secret. Elizabeth Lane
Читать онлайн книгу.
Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Leigh felt as if she’d just consigned away her soul. But it was all for Kevin’s baby. She took a lingering sip of her coffee, which had cooled. “So when do you want me to start?”
“How about now? The nursery needs to be set up. I’d intended for that to happen before the baby was born, but Chloe couldn’t make up her mind on what she wanted. It can’t wait any longer—you’ll just have to decide for her. Earlier today I called Baby Mart and opened an account. After I take you back to your car, you can go there and pick out whatever the baby’s going to need—clothes, diapers, formula, a crib, the works. Everything top-of-the-line. I’ve arranged for special delivery by the end of the day.” He rose from his chair, all energy and impatience. “After that, you should have a couple of hours to resign from the paper, pack your things and report to my house.”
“You want me there tonight?”
“If the baby’s coming home tomorrow, we’ve got to have the nursery ready and waiting. Will you need directions to the house?”
“No. I know where you live.” No one who’d been to Wolf Ridge could miss the majestic glass-and-timber house that sat like a baron’s castle on a rocky bluff, overlooking the resort. Finding her way shouldn’t be a problem, even in the dark. But Leigh couldn’t ignore a feeling of unease, as if she were being swept into a maelstrom.
Wyatt Richardson was a man who’d started poor and achieved all he had through force of will. Mere moments after she’d agreed to work for him, he was taking over her life, barking orders as if he owned her—which to his way of thinking, he probably did.
Since he was her employer, she would put up with a certain amount of it. But if the man expected her to be a doormat he was in for a surprise. She would be little Mikey’s advocate, speaking up for his welfare, even if it meant bashing heads with Wyatt.
Kevin’s child had been born into a family with an immature teenage mother, an uncaring grandmother and a reluctant grandfather, whose idea of family duty was to turn everything over to the hired help. In the hospital room, when she’d given Wyatt the baby, he’d handled the tiny blue bundle like a ticking bomb. He seemed to be in denial about his grandson’s very existence, never referring to him by name, only calling him “the baby.”
Changing things would be up to her. She could only hope she was wise enough, and tough enough, for the challenge.
* * *
Wyatt boosted Leigh into the Hummer, struggling against the awareness of his hands sliding over her warm curves. Her fragrance was clean and subtle, teasing his senses to the point of arousal. Her long legs, clad in silky hose, flashed past his eyes as she climbed onto the seat. What would she do if she knew he was imagining those legs wrapping his hips?
She’d probably kick him halfway across the parking lot.
What had gotten into him? Didn’t he have enough trouble on his hands with Chloe and the baby? Did he really need to complicate things with an attraction toward the woman he’d hired to be the nanny?
He’d never had trouble getting bed partners. All he needed to do was stroll through the resort lodge and make eye contact with an attractive female. If she was available, the rest would be easy.
So why was he suddenly craving a woman who came with a hands-off sign?
Maybe that was the problem. With Chloe and the baby sharing his house, an affair with the nanny would be a dicey proposition. For that matter, with Chloe in residence, bringing any woman to his bedroom would be a bad idea—just one of the ways his life was about to change.
But right now, that was the least of his worries.
Closing the door, he walked around the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat. Leigh had fastened her safety belt and was attempting to tug her little skirt over her lovely knees. Wyatt willed himself to avert his eyes.
“Just for the record,” he said, starting the engine, “we don’t hold with formal dress at the house. Pack things you’ll be comfortable in, like jeans and sneakers.”
Or maybe you should dress like a nun, to remind me to keep my hands off you.
“Jeans and sneakers will be fine.” Her laugh sounded strained. “I don’t suppose your grandson will care what I’m wearing.”
“My grandson. Lord, don’t remind me. I’m still getting used to that idea.”
“This isn’t about you. It’s about an innocent baby who’ll need a world of love—and a young girl learning to be a mother. You’ll need to be there for both of them.”
Isn’t that where you come in? Wyatt knew better than to voice that thought. Leigh had expressed some strong notions about family responsibility. But wasn’t he doing enough, taking Chloe and her baby under his roof, buying everything they needed and hiring a nanny to help out?
Back when he was married, Tina had complained that he was never home—but blast it, he’d been busy working to support his wife and daughter. He’d been determined to give them a better life than he’d had growing up.
Even after the divorce he’d taken good care of them. He’d given Tina a million-dollar house, paid generous alimony and child support and always remembered Chloe’s birthday and Christmas with expensive gifts—gifts he’d never have been able to afford if he hadn’t poured so much time and energy into the resort.
Hadn’t he done enough? Was it fair that he was expected to finish raising a spoiled teenager with a baby so Tina could run off with her twenty-seven-year-old husband?
“There’s my car.” Leigh pointed to a rusting station wagon parked outside the office he’d used for the interviews. One look was enough to tell him that the car would never make it up the canyon on winter roads. He would need to get her something safe to drive before the first snowfall.
Wyatt pulled the Hummer into a nearby parking place. Steeling himself against her nearness, he climbed out and opened the door on the passenger side. Leigh was waiting for him to boost her to the ground. She leaned outward, her hands stretching toward his shoulders. Wyatt was reaching for her waist when her high heel caught on the edge of the floor mat. Yanked off balance, she tumbled forward on top of him.
He managed to break her fall—barely. For a frantic instant she clung to him, her arms clasping his neck, her skirt hiked high enough for one leg to hook his waist. But his grip wasn’t secure enough to hold her in place. Pulled by her own weight, she slid down his body. Wyatt stifled a groan as his sex responded to the delicious pressure of her curves pressed against him so intimately.
Her sudden gasp told him she’d felt his response. He glimpsed wide eyes and flaming cheeks as she slipped downward. Then her feet touched the ground and she stumbled back, breaking contact. They stood facing each other, both of them half-breathless. Her hair was mussed and one of her shoes was missing. She tugged her skirt down over her thighs.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Wyatt tried his best to laugh it off. “No, I’m fine. But that maneuver could’ve gotten us both arrested.”
Her narrowing gaze told him she didn’t appreciate his humor. It appeared that, despite her naughty little skirt, Miss Leigh Foster was a prim and proper lady. All to the good. He’d be wise to keep that in mind.
“Excuse me, but I need my shoe.” She teetered on one high-heeled pump. Wyatt retrieved the mate from the floor of the SUV, along with her brown leather purse. She took them from him, wiggling her foot into the shoe.
“You’ll be all right?” he asked her.
“Fine. I’ll be going straight to Baby Mart from here, then home. I should be knocking on your door by nightfall.”
“Plan on dinner at the house, with me. And remember you’re to say nothing about Chloe and her baby. All the people at Baby Mart need to know is who’s paying for the order and