The Danforths: Toby, Lea and Adam: Cowboy Crescendo / Steamy Savannah Nights / The Enemy's Daughter. Sheri WhiteFeather
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for an explanation of how someone who moved so easily in high society would want a position as a nanny in the backwoods of Wyoming.
He had no doubt that a woman like Heather would soon grow tired of the simple ranch life that he so loved. His ex-wife claimed the isolation made her crazy. Once Sheila realized that she would never be able to cajole or badger him into resuming his rightful place in society, she couldn’t renounce her wedding vows fast enough. One of the nasty rumors going around tonight’s little soiree was that she was off in Rio with some European playboy and the two of them were spending Toby’s generous alimony as if it were an endlessly renewable resource.
When the music stopped, he paused to consider a tendril of Heather’s hair. Holding it between his thumb and fingertips, he studied each strand as if they were filaments of pure gold.
When the back of his hand brushed against Heather’s cheek, the spark that had been teasing her imagination all night long burst into full flame. Although every instinct told her to pull away, to run away and not bother to look back, she remained rooted to her spot on the dewy grass. She fought to draw air into lungs that had forgotten how to breathe.
The fact that she and Toby were no longer moving did not lessen the feeling that the world was spinning out of control. A deft twist of Toby’s wrist loosened the pin from her hair and sent it spilling around her shoulders in a shimmer of light that caught and held the moonlight. She might have protested against the injury done to her sophisticated hairstyle had it not been for a Roman candle exploding overhead, signaling the beginning of what was to prove a spectacular fireworks display.
“Look!” she exclaimed.
Toby didn’t bother looking heavenward. His attention was fixed on the slender curve of an outstretched neck and shoulders so white they might have been carved from marble.
“I am looking,” he told her.
Heather lowered her eyes to meet a smoky gaze, a smoldering source of heat that rivaled the rapid- fire explosions overhead. Having wondered what it would be like to be kissed by this man, she was overcome by panic when it became obvious Toby was about to put her imagination to rest.
This is crazy, she wanted to say. You’re my boss, and I’m your son’s nanny. It isn’t proper. And it most certainly isn’t smart.
Still, those warnings didn’t keep her from leaning into him as he curled his hand around her neck and crushed her mouth beneath his. She would have fought against such unexpected roughness had it not made her so weak in the knees and left her desperately wanting more. His lips were firm, and she discovered that she very much liked the texture of his mustache against her tender skin. It did not tickle at all as she had read in foolish books she had hidden from her parents when she was a girl. But it did make her feel soft and feminine in contrast. And it left her wondering how that mustache would feel brushed against every inch of her body.
Resounding booms were coming more and more quickly as the fireworks display drew the crowd out of the lobby and into the courtyard. Appreciative ooohs and ahhhs filled Heather’s head. Sparkles trailing across the sky were a poor imitation of the tingles racing up and down her spine. Great explosions of color mirrored the quick succession of emotions bursting inside her. She had been kissed before, but never had she tasted a man and been rendered insatiable by it. Wanting him to feel the same sense of powerlessness that she did, Heather held nothing back and responded wantonly.
The lady might look as cool as a Grecian statue, but trembling in his arms she was all heat and wondrously giving. Emotions that sparked off one another the very first time they met now caught on fire. Fanned by passion, they spread like wildfire as need raged through them both. Though supple in his arms, Toby discovered that Heather was not as fragile as she looked. Having tasted the forbidden fruit of his secret desire, Toby wanted nothing more than to tumble her into the shadows and make her his own. Such thoughts in such a civilized setting were utterly inappropriate. It was an obsession, Toby was sure, born of a prolonged period of self-imposed celibacy.
That didn’t stop him from kissing her deeply and plundering the sweet depths of her mouth. Heather met the thrust of his tongue with her own inquisitive exploration. Toby’s hands roamed freely over the warm, smooth skin of her exposed back. Moving his mouth to her neck, he thrilled to the beat of her pulse beneath his lips and the mewling sound caught deep in her throat.
“I want you,” he confessed in a voice made raspy with need. “Right now.”
There was no telling what Heather’s response might have been had not a flashbulb gone off in her face. Her startled gasp was lost in the shouts of a crowd mesmerized by the effects of Abraham Danforth’s elaborately planned fireworks display. Heather and Toby had been so engrossed in each other they hadn’t noticed people were laying blankets down on the ground about them as others gathered on the veranda to sip mint juleps and admire the show.
Horrified to have a moment of weakness immortalized on film, Heather tore herself away from Toby with a sob. If it wasn’t enough to be made a fool of by Josef and be forced to endure whispering behind her back in her home state, now she would be whispered about in Savannah, too. If she knew the paparazzi, her shame was certain to be on display in magazines by the morning. She could write the caption herself: Most Masochistic Woman in the World Falls in Love with the Wrong Man All Over Again.
Tabloids were sure to fly off the shelves at the little country store where Toby bought his groceries. By the time Dylan reached preschool, she supposed everyone would believe that his nanny was sleeping with his daddy. Angry at herself for succumbing to the charms of yet another man in control of her future, Heather turned and ran, less from the reporter who violated their privacy than from her mental admission that she was falling in love with Toby.
Blinded by tears, she didn’t wait to witness Toby chase the unwelcome photographer down the sidewalk.
The Twin Oaks Hotel was virtually abandoned. Most, if not all, of the guests were watching the fireworks outside, and Abraham Danforth’s political machine was gearing up to pass the proverbial hat around to solicit contributions to the cause. Heather had yet to meet the would-be senator, dubbed by the press as Honest Abe II. She doubted he would appreciate being upstaged in tomorrow’s newspaper by a picture of her in a compromising position with his nephew.
She slipped around to a back entrance of the old hotel. The door stuck initially, but Heather had enough adrenaline surging through her blood to force it open. Making her way down a dimly lit hallway, she searched for some secluded spot where she could pull herself together and put that soul- shattering kiss behind her. If she failed to locate an unoccupied bathroom, she’d settle for simply finding the wing of the hotel that had been reserved for the children. Just thinking of Dylan’s heartfelt hugs had a calming effect upon her.
One hallway led to another and before she knew it, Heather was completely lost. The place seemed to go on forever. With each step, the halls grew darker. Antique wall sconces that had been modernized with electrical wiring glowed with flickering lights intended to replicate candlelight. It was a touch too real for Heather, who was on the verge of turning around and retracing her steps when she caught a glimpse of someone at the far end of the corridor gesturing to her.
She looked remarkably like the mysterious lady whom Heather had spied under the big oak tree back at Crofthaven on the day of their arrival. As this was a formal affair, Heather could have easily mistaken a modern floor-length gown for the period clothing she thought she’d seen the woman wearing that day. In the shadowy light, it was easy to imagine quite a lot of things, including the draft of cold air that raised goose bumps up and down the length of her arms.
Nevertheless, Heather was drawn down that dark hallway.
“Wait!” she called out as the woman disappeared around yet another corner.
Hoping she was winding her way closer to the lobby, Heather gave chase. As she rounded the next corner, a scream died in her throat.
In front of her appeared a young woman with dark hair, very pale skin and eyes rimmed with pain. The shadowy figure seemed to float in the air. A golden locket at her throat glinted