had been a whirlwind of efficiency—all business. There’d been no more sign of the chemistry that had flared between them when he’d rubbed her feet. But he hadn’t forgotten it. He’d always maintained that the sexiest thing about a woman was her face. The sight of Leigh’s face, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a blissful moan, had jolted his imagination into overdrive. He’d pictured that lovely dark-framed face on a pillow, her entranced expression deepening as he pleasured her....
Wyatt took a moment to enjoy the memory, then closed the door on it. For now, at least, a foot massage was as intimate as he planned to get with Miss Leigh Foster. Bed partners were a dime a dozen. But he’d already learned that a suitable nanny was worth more than gold.
A sliver of moon had risen above the canyon. Far below, beyond the trees, the lights of the resort spread like a jeweled carpet. The summer concert season was over, but the autumn color drew hikers to the slopes and sightseers flocking to the hotels, shops and restaurants. And the cold season was coming soon. Already his crews were inspecting every inch of the runs and lifts, getting ready for the first big snowstorm.
A light breeze, smelling of winter, cooled his face. He always savored this time of year and the changes it brought. But the changes happening now were like nothing in his experience.
Leigh was right. Chloe was going to need him. But how could he even begin to nurture her, discipline her and give her the support she needed? From his own father, Wyatt had inherited a legacy of neglect and abuse. What if the traits that made a good parent were simply missing in him? It was that fear that had made him keep his distance when she was a baby, herself. He’d missed the chance to get to know her, to build the kind of relationship that would help him understand how to be there for her. Could he trust himself to build that relationship now? Where did he even begin?
As for the baby... He couldn’t begin to wrap his brain around that reality. Not tonight. But if he wasn’t sure how to be a father after all these years, then he couldn’t believe that Chloe was prepared to be a mother when she was barely more than a child herself. Having a child could destroy her future. Since she’d arrived, he’d tried over and over again to help her realize that the best thing for all of them would be to give the little boy up to a good family. The message hadn’t gotten through, but perhaps things would change now that the baby was here. Once she realized that having a baby wasn’t like having a new doll, the girl might come to her senses.
Meanwhile, there was Leigh. He was depending on her to maintain a level of sanity he could live with. So far, she’d proved as efficient, hardworking and practical as she was pretty. He could only hope she had the skill to care for the baby and the patience to deal with the red-haired hellion that was Chloe at her worst.
The weariness he’d been holding back too long crashed in on him. Time he got some rest. It was late, and tomorrow he’d be bringing Chloe and the baby home from the hospital. The day was bound to be trying.
Stepping back inside, he headed toward the stairs. That was when he glanced down the dark hallway and noticed the sliver of light under the closed door of Leigh’s bedroom. Discretion told him to ignore it. But it was one-thirty in the morning. What if something was wrong? What if she was sick or in some kind of trouble?
Outside the door he paused to listen. Hearing nothing, he rapped lightly on the rough-hewn wood. When there was no answer, he pressed the latch and inched the door open.
Lamplight glowed on Leigh in bed, propped against two oversized pillows. She was dead asleep, her eyes closed, her head drooping to one side. The thin strap of her silky black nightgown had slipped off one shoulder to reveal the upper curve of a satiny breast.
Had she been waiting up for him? But that notion wasn’t worth the time it took to kick it to the curb. Nothing in tonight’s behavior could’ve been read as an invitation.
So why hadn’t she just turned off the light and rolled over? In the next instant he found the answer. On the duvet, where it could have fallen from her hand, lay a thick paperback book. Drawing closer, Wyatt could make out the title—Baby Care for the New Mother.
Leigh had fallen asleep cramming for her job.
So her claim to be experienced in childcare was something of a stretch. A smile teased the corners of Wyatt’s mouth. He wasn’t ready to fire Leigh. But he wanted to let her know, in a subtle way, that he was wise to her little fib.
Tired as she was, she’d probably sleep until morning. If she woke to find the book on the nightstand and the lamp switched off that should be enough to give her a clue.
Leaving his shoes in the hallway, he stole across the carpet to the bed. Close up, her lush beauty was even more tempting—ripe lips softly parted, lashes like velvet fringe against her satiny cheeks, and a fragrance that stirred his senses like a seductive night breeze.
As he leaned over her to pick up the book, she shifted against the pillow. The black ribbon strap slipped lower on her shoulder, giving him a glimpse of one rosebud nipple peeking above the lace trimming the neckline.
His sex rose like a flagpole, straining against his jeans. Wyatt cursed silently as his fingers closed around the open book. They were alone in the house. If Leigh opened her eyes, what would he do? Would he mumble an excuse and leave like a gentleman, or would he be true to his manly nature?
Silly question. But never mind. Leigh had shown him her proper side. Nothing she’d said or done had indicated that she’d take kindly to being awakened with a man bending over her bed.
Giving in to his better judgment, Wyatt laid the book on the nightstand, switched off the lamp and, with a last regretful glance, left the room.
Four
Leigh opened one eye, found the bedside clock and groaned. Seven-thirty. Of all mornings to oversleep, she had to pick this one.
When she swung her legs off the bed, she noticed something on the nightstand. The baby book. How many chapters had she gotten through before she fell asleep? And how many of those pages could she actually remember? She could only hope she’d have time for a refresher while Wyatt was picking up Chloe and the baby.
She was walking away from the bed when it struck her—she had no memory of closing the book and laying it on the nightstand. And she certainly hadn’t switched off the bedside lamp before dropping off. Somebody had looked in on her in the night. And that somebody was wise to her lack of experience.
She stifled a groan. Not a great way to start a new job.
The aroma of fresh coffee wafted under the door and into her nostrils. Her shower would have to wait. Right now she needed to get herself downstairs and convince Wyatt she had everything under control.
Yanking on her jeans and a black turtleneck, she splashed her face, brushed her teeth and ran a hasty comb through her hair. For now, that would have to do.
Still barefoot, she followed her nose, padding down the stairs and into the kitchen. Wyatt sat sipping coffee at the table, dressed in jeans and a dark blue cashmere sweater that matched his eyes. Those eyes took her measure, from her bare toes to her still-tousled locks. “Coffee’s on the counter,” he said pleasantly. “I put out a mug for you. How did you sleep?”
“Too well. That featherbed is decadent.”
“And your feet? You’re going to need your shoes today.”
“They’ll
