don’t have a nanny for Sam,’ he cut in quietly, bending down to pick up a pebble and skim it across the clear water in front of them.
His action gave Helen a few seconds to take in his surprising statement. If he didn’t have a nanny for the little boy then that must mean… Good grief, wasn’t that taking his guardianship of Sam just a little too far? After all, there couldn’t be many men in his financial position who would even think of doing such a thing, let alone carry it out.
‘That seems a little—ambitious,’ she dismissed coolly.
No wonder he rarely spent time in London any more if he had taken on the full-time care of a very young child!
He raised dark brows mockingly. ‘Because I’m a man?’
Her cheeks warmed at his taunting tone. ‘Not necessarily,’ she answered defensively. ‘Bringing up a child is difficult for anyone, but for a man alone, a man with a full-time career to think of, I would have thought it was virtually impossible.’
‘It’s—hard, at times,’ Caleb admitted. ‘Hence the need for the PA.’
Helen stiffened, at once wary. ‘Wouldn’t it have just been easier to engage a nanny for the baby?’
‘Easier, perhaps,’ he conceded consideringly. ‘But not half as much fun!’
He sounded as if he was really enjoying caring for the baby, and she had no reason to think otherwise; after all, he did seem to have changed his whole lifestyle to suit his new responsibilities. But even so, she still found it an odd thing for him to have done, especially when the child supposedly wasn’t even his own.
‘I wish you luck with your other venture,’ she told him dismissively, hoping he would go away and she could be left alone to her thoughts—and the privacy of the beach!
He gave her a sideways glance, standing next to her now. ‘Not thinking of applying yourself?’
She gave him a knowing look. ‘There wouldn’t be much point, would there?’
‘No?’
He didn’t give anything away, she would give him that! ‘No,’ she drawled derisively.
‘Your father would like it.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘But you and I know it’s a foregone conclusion that it will never happen.’
‘We do?’
‘Of course,’ she snapped, impatient with his evasive tactics. ‘If you gave me the job it would mean my father wouldn’t sell Cherry Trees to you.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, we both know you don’t want that to happen.’ Her eyes flashed.
‘Do we?’
‘Don’t start playing games with me, Mr Jones,’ she bit out disgustedly. ‘We both know that, for reasons of your own, you have decided to have Cherry Trees back as part of the estate, and my moving back here to live would certainly defeat that objective.’
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