For the next few minutes the men talked music and bands. When Kent and Jack had been teenagers, they’d formed a band that had played local clubs and at weddings. The band had been successful on a regional level, but Jack had hungered for more.
At the age of twenty-two he’d left Las Vegas for Los Angeles and eventually had hooked up with a group of musicians who had become the rock band Creation.
While Jack had ridden the rise of fame and fortune, then eventually crashed and burned, Kent had remained in Las Vegas with his band members, playing local gigs whenever they could get them.
It was after midnight when Kent finally left, and Jack had finished clearing the dishes from the dining-room table.
When he was finished he went down the hallway toward the bedrooms. The first one he stopped in was the boys’ bedroom, and he stood in the doorway and stared at his sons.
Mick slept on his side, his legs and arms curled into a fetal position. David lay sprawled on his back, arms and legs thrown to his sides as if he’d fallen asleep in the middle of a leap off a building.
A surge of tenderness flowed through him as he watched them sleep. The love he felt for his sons was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
Although he didn’t want to think ill of the dead, Candace had possessed the maternal instincts of a rock. Jack had hoped that the birth of the boys would somehow domesticate the wild, beautiful woman he’d married—and for a while it had worked. But it didn’t take long for the novelty of motherhood to wear off and for their marriage to self-destruct.
The boys had so many strikes against them. A mother who had been murdered and a father who was a recovering addict and knew nothing about being a dad.
They needed somebody else in their life, a nanny who could teach them how to be good boys—and the sooner the better.
“You are stupid to even consider this,” Marisa Perez said aloud to herself as she drove down the dusty Nevada road in the direction of Jack Cortland’s ranch.
He’d called her earlier that morning and asked her about her services as a nanny. Against her better judgment she’d agreed to meet with him at his house.
It had been big news when Jack had moved back to his family home two years ago following a very public divorce from Candace Rothchild.
For years Jack and Candace had been a favorite topic of gossip in the tabloids. Their lifestyle of excess and drugs and alcohol had been legendary. The public had loved stories of the hard-rock star and his beautiful heiress wife.
From everything Marisa knew about Jack Cortland, she was not impressed. She glanced out her side window, passing land that her parents probably owned.
Like Candace, Marisa had come from wealth, but unlike Candace, Marisa had decided early on that she wanted to make her own way. She didn’t want to work for the family in their real estate ventures. What she loved was working with children.
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she turned into the long, dusty driveway that led to the Cortland ranch.
This visit was more to satisfy her curiosity than for any other reason. Since moving back here Jack had kept a low profile, rarely being seen out of his home.
She’d read the stories about Candace’s tragic murder and knew there were two little boys in Jack’s custody. More than anything she’d been driven to come out here to check on those boys.
She might not think much of Jack Cortland as a person, but he had a low, deep voice that could weaken the knees of a soldier. After talking to him on the phone that morning, it had taken her several minutes to get that sexy voice out of her head.
The farmhouse came into view, and as she pulled up front and parked, she saw a towheaded tot wearing only a diaper racing across the grass and heading toward a large barn in the distance.
Marisa turned off her engine and expected at any moment some adult to come running out of the house to collect the child. When that didn’t immediately happen, she jumped out of her car and hurried toward the little tot.
“Hi,” she said when she caught up with him.
He stopped and smiled at her, and her heart crunched in her chest. He looked like a little angel with his pale hair and bright blue eyes. “Hi,” he replied.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“David.” He glanced toward the barn, as if eager to be on his way.
“I’m Marisa. You want to play a game?” His eyes lit up and he nodded. “Do you know how to jump on one foot?” He nodded again and began to jump up and down. “Let’s see who can jump on one foot all the way to the house.”
He took off, alternately hopping and running. Marisa followed after him, silently seething over the fact that a baby was outside alone with no adult supervision in sight.
David’s laughter rang in the air as he hurried toward the house with Marisa at his heels. They had just reached the porch when the front door exploded open and Jack Cortland flew outside.
His gray eyes were wide with alarm as he took the stairs of the porch two at a time. “David! Thank God.” He grabbed the boy up in his arms, then stared at Marisa, panic still gleaming in his eyes.
She said nothing, merely stood drinking in the sight of the infamous Jack. She’d expected a man who looked dissipated, a man with sallow skin and the lines of debauchery slashed deep in his face. Instead his dark hair gleamed richly in the overhead sunshine. He sported a healthy tan and arm muscles that looked as if he wasn’t a stranger to hard work.
He was hot…and for just a few seconds, Marisa forgot what she was doing here. It was only when David squealed in protest and struggled to get out of his father’s arms that her brain reengaged.
“I’d say you have a problem with basic safety issues,” she said.
“He’s Houdini reincarnated,” Jack said with obvious frustration. “I assume you’re Marisa?” She gave him a brief nod, and he gestured her toward the front door. “Welcome to the zoo.”
“I need to get some things from my car,” she said. “I jumped out when I saw David racing across the grass and no adult in sight.” She couldn’t keep the thick disapproval from her voice.
“I didn’t know he’d escaped,” he replied with a grimace. “Get whatever you need and come on in.” He didn’t wait for her reply, but instead disappeared into the house.
Marisa headed back to her car and tried to still the crazy butterflies that had gone dancing in her stomach at the sight of him. She couldn’t remember when just looking at a man had caused such a visceral reaction. Certainly when she’d first met Patrick she hadn’t felt the burst of heat that the sight of Jack had evoked.
The man was a mess, she reminded herself as she grabbed her purse and briefcase from the passenger seat.
Still, as she headed toward the front door she steeled herself against his obvious attractiveness. She was here to contemplate a job and nothing more. She had a boyfriend, her life was on track and the last thing she needed was for some thirty-year-old drummer with
