Kids need safe places to live.’
‘I need to be in New York.’
‘Then, you have different priorities,’ she told him. ‘When do you plan on leaving?’
‘Now. Tonight. Midnight if I can get back to Sydney on time.’
‘And what do you plan on doing with Grace?’
‘She’s not my responsibility,’ he said helplessly, staring down at the sleeping baby in his arms.
‘In that case leave her with our children’s services and they’ll find placement for her in Sydney.’ Erin tilted her chin. She was taking a big risk and she knew it. She held her breath.
He glared at her some more.
And then he looked down at the child in his arms and his glare sort of died.
‘I…’
‘You don’t want to do that, do you?’ Erin asked gently.
‘No.’
‘What’s so important in New York?’
‘Meetings. I’m a broker.’
‘I’ll bet you have the internet and e-mail and all sorts of other technological gadgetry to overcome this crisis,’ she said brightly. ‘Teleconferencing, maybe? I hear it’s all the go. We even use it here to link up with our Sydney offices.’
He glowered. ‘I’ll bet there’s not even a phone at the farm.’
‘Which is one reason Wendy is right in saying she can’t agree to live there yet. You don’t have a mobile phone?’
‘Of course I have a mobile, but…’
‘There you go, then.’ She smiled again, all objectives achieved. ‘I’d stop her packing, if I were you,’ she said kindly. ‘Once she gets on that train you’ll have lost the greatest nanny a man could ever hire. Wendy’s simply the best.’
And Luke, staring down at her bright smile, knew that it was true. He knew instinctively that in Wendy he had someone he wouldn’t mind entrusting a baby he cared for.
Cared for?
He didn’t care for Grace.
But… He stared down at the sleeping baby, and his tiny half-sister stirred in his arms and snuggled closer.
‘Hell!’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ Erin said sympathetically. ‘Or it will be if you don’t stop Wendy from boarding that train. New York or Wendy, Mr Grey. You choose—but choose now.’
‘Hell!’ he said again.
‘Swearing won’t help,’ she said sweetly. ‘Choosing will.’
An hour later, Wendy was in the front passenger seat of an Aston Martin sports car, being driven south.
Against her better judgement.
She should be on a train to Sydney right now, she told herself. That was the place for sedate foster parents. If she was on a train, the wind wouldn’t be blowing in her hair, she’d have all her suitcases in the luggage racks above her head, and she’d have Gabbie safely on her knee.
Now the wind was very definitely blowing in her hair and her unruly knot was almost completely unwound. Her luggage was back at Bay Beach—there was no chance it’d fit into Luke’s miniscule baggage compartment and he’d organised a taxi to bring it out later. Grace was in her carry-cot, and Gabbie was sitting in the car’s rear seat with her mouth as wide open as her eyes. She looked in a state of shock.
Which just about summed up how Wendy was feeling.
‘I’ve been bamboozled,’ she said faintly. ‘I don’t have a clue what I’m doing here.’
‘That makes two of us,’ Luke said, not without sympathy. ‘I should be heading for the airport right now.’ He shifted his hands on his steering wheel and grimaced. ‘There’s something sticky on this.’ Then he stared down with horror as he saw two grey marks on his leather steering wheel. ‘Someone’s touched this with sticky hands!’
Good grief, Wendy thought blankly. After all that was happening, the man was worrying about a sticky steering wheel!
‘It’ll wash off,’ she said shortly.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s only red jelly. The kids had red jelly for lunch. It dissolves in warm water.’
‘There’s red jelly on my steering wheel,’ he groaned. And then he looked closer. It wasn’t red. It was definitely grey.
‘How can this be red jelly?’
‘It’s red jelly mixed with things.’ She had the temerity to grin. ‘Hey, I said they had red jelly for lunch. That was two hours before you arrived. They did things after that. playdough. Mud. Finger paints…’
‘I don’t want to know!’
Silence. He could feel her disapproval from the other side of the car—as if she thought this was some huge piece of ostentation.
‘You like your car, then?’ she said cautiously, and he managed a smile. Okay, maybe it would wash off.
‘Wouldn’t you? She’s gorgeous. If you knew what she cost me, first and last—’
‘I could make a very good guess what she cost you,’ Wendy said tartly. ‘Aston Martin Vantage Volante. Whew! She’s worth a fortune.’
‘You don’t know—’
‘I’ll bet I do know. To within ten thousand dollars or so, anyway, and, with a car like this, what’s ten thousand dollars?’ She grimaced. ‘What else could I guess about this car?’ She thought it through, and Adam’s tones of reverence were still with her. ‘I’d guess it has an all-alloy, quad cam, forty-eight valve, twelve cylinder engine? Zero to sixty miles per hour in approximately five seconds. Top speed of about a hundred and sixty miles an hour. Yes, she’s some plaything, Mr Grey.’
‘How the heck…?’
‘And if you knew what I could do with a quarter of the money this car cost you—’
‘Hey, I’m your employer,’ he interrupted. ‘You’re not here to give me moral lectures!’
‘Let me out, then,’ she said serenely. ‘Moralistic lectures come with the package.’
For a moment she almost thought he would. His foot eased from the accelerator, and then Grace gurgled from her carry-cot in the back seat and the impossibility of dumping this woman anywhere hit home.
‘Where did you learn about cars?’ he asked grudgingly, and she wrinkled her nose. In truth it was sort of nice to have the warm sea air
