a nurse and does volunteer work with elderly shut-ins.”
The warmth that came into her voice as she talked about her family gave Wyatt pause. He remembered his childhood friends, Josh Kellogg and Gabe Brant, who had loved their parents and siblings and been loved in return. He still remembered the shock of going to Gabe’s home when he was a child and discovering that a family could be warm and loving.
“Here’s their picture,” she said, opening her purse and pulling out a photograph. She held it out to him.
“You carry a family photo around with you?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes, I like looking at it.”
As he took the photograph, his fingers brushed her hand lightly, and he was aware of the contact. The picture showed a smiling couple, hands linked, and two brown-haired younger women, also smiling. Behind them were lush green mountains.
“These are your parents?” he asked, studying the tall, dark-haired man and the slender, red-haired woman who looked too young to have three grown daughters.
“Yes. Tom and Rose Talmadge. They married young.”
“Fifteen?”
She smiled. “Hardly! They were eighteen. You’re off just three years. They were childhood sweethearts. My grandfather on my dad’s side, Jeremy, is a minister in Fort Worth.”
“Nice family,” he said.
She pointed at the two younger women in the photo. “Those are my sisters. They went to see our parents last year, but I was still in my last semester at school and I couldn’t go.”
“So you come from a family of do-gooders, but you’re going for an education in accounting and a good-paying job?”
“That’s right. My family says I’m the practical one. Actually, I have a mind for figures and I like to make money. Money means very little to the rest of my family.”
“Well, we have something in common there,” he remarked dryly. “I like to make money, too. But I don’t think your mind for figures will be a lot of help with a baby.” He held out the picture. “Your parents look nice,” he said.
“They’re very nice,” she said, taking the picture and replacing it in her purse. “I know you don’t think much of me, but I come from a stable, hardworking family and I have good references. I think I can learn to take care of your baby.”
Wyatt was intrigued by her. This soft-spoken, freckle-faced girl was getting to him. He knew why, though. Short of the tenuous bond he’d had with his older brother, Hank, he’d never known any kind of closeness in his family, and she was reminding him of his past in a way few people ever had. Clamping his lips together, he studied her, and she gazed back at him unwaveringly.
“Sit down and we’ll talk,” he said.
She sat down, crossing her ankles and looking as prim as before. She also looked as if she would run if he said boo, yet she had stood up to him with her question about his experience as a daddy. She’d nailed him on that one, all right. The first day it had taken him hours to learn to get a diaper on Megan the right way.
“The job means living out here on the ranch. It means living in this house with Megan and me,” he reminded her.
She nodded. “Is there any reason that should worry me?”
“For one thing, there’s the isolation.”
“I don’t mind that at all.”
“For someone young, that’s unusual. These are your prime years for finding a husband. Most women don’t like isolation.”
She smiled at him, her dimple showing and that twinkle returning to her eyes. “Getting a husband is not on my list of goals. I’ll have your niece and I won’t mind the isolation at all.”
“You don’t want to marry?” he asked.
“If it works out someday, but if it doesn’t, that’s fine, too. I have a busy life.”
He didn’t believe her for a minute, but he moved on to another subject. “I have a woman who is both cook and a housekeeper, and she lives on the ranch, so she’ll be close at hand, but if you’re nanny, you’ll live here in the house.”
She nodded as if it meant nothing to her.
“Since this will be your home during the week, I need to know if there’s a boyfriend.”
“No, there’s no boyfriend. I’ve been working to put myself through school and I’m busy and I don’t date.”
“Being busy doesn’t have a whole lot to do with dating.”
She shrugged and he saw the dimple again. “All right. I’ve never found anyone who really interested me. I don’t date.”
“When did you graduate from high school?” he asked in a polite and legal way to discover her age.
She smiled. “I’m twenty-five. I graduated seven years ago.”
Megan stirred in his arms, waking and beginning to cry.
“How’s my girl?” Wyatt asked, patting her back as he stood. “Would you excuse me for a minute while I change her and get her bottle?”
“Certainly.”
He left and Grace watched him go, a mixture of feelings seething inside her. Her best friend from college, Virginia Udall, had warned her at length about Wyatt, telling her of his dark past. How in high school he’d had to quit school and leave town in disgrace. She heard tales of his wildness, crazy pranks he’d done when he was growing up, the girls he’d seduced, drunken brawls in local bars. Virginia had an older sister who’d gone to high school with Wyatt. Grace had seen her high-school yearbook and Wyatt’s freshman picture. She remembered staring at a picture of a boy who, in spite of wild hair that fell over his shoulders, was still the best-looking boy in the entire high school.
Of all the things she’d heard about Wyatt, the one that she could agree with completely was that he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. When he’d opened the door, she’d been frozen for a minute, looking at thickly lashed, coffee-colored bedroom eyes, prominent cheekbones that gave him a slightly rugged look, a straight nose, a sensual mouth and firm jawline. The long locks were gone, but his black hair was still wavy and unruly, curling onto his forehead. The man was gorgeous. Small wonder he had a reputation with the ladies.
If was difficult to relate the stories she’d heard with the caring uncle he seemed to be. She looked at the animal heads looming over her, the rifle above the mantel, the heavy leather furniture and the bear rugs. The room was masculine, lacking any feminine touch, yet she’d been told that part of the time, his brother and his wife had lived here. It was difficult to imagine a baby crawling over the bear rugs, and she wondered if the room had been that way since Wyatt’s infancy. It was even more difficult to imagine Wyatt as an infant.
Was she walking into a wolf’s den, as her friend had warned her? If she took this job, she would have to live here, alone with Wyatt Sawyer and a baby. Good looks couldn’t mask the rogue he had been. For a moment, as she had approached
