as if that would get rid of the thoughts that he felt guilty for having had the night before and again now. Thoughts of Marla. Of life with Marla.
But guilty or not, the bottom line had been he really hadn’t been thrilled with the prospect of Kira stepping in for Betty.
After all, she’d been raised by the same man Marla had. And there she’d been, with the ink barely dry on her Ph.D. as a clue to the likelihood that she was an overachiever, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in her clothes, her makeup flawless, her posture perfect, and Cutty hadn’t had a doubt she was cut from the same cloth Marla was.
So no, he hadn’t wanted Kira’s help.
Only she’d made him feel like a heel for denying, not only the help she was offering, but for denying her the chance to meet the twins. To get to know them. To be a part of their lives.
They were her nieces, after all, and Cutty had known that if Marla had been there she would have welcomed Kira with open arms—both for herself and for the girls. He’d known that Marla would have wanted her younger sister to know her daughters.
So he’d caved.
Cutty opened his eyes and sighed, disgusted with himself. Just when he’d thought his life was finally settling down, here he was in a muddle of conflicting thoughts, conflicting feelings again. And for about the tenth time, he asked himself if he’d really accepted her help as temporary nanny and housekeeper because it was what Marla would have wanted, or if he’d had some kind of attraction to her. In spite of himself.
He hoped he’d only accepted her help because it was what Marla would have wanted.
Sure he’d told Ad a couple of weeks ago that he thought he was finally ready to get back into the swing of things again. But slowly. Cautiously. With great care and consideration given to exactly who—and what—he let into his life again.
And a pair of blue eyes—no matter how incredible a blue they were—didn’t change that.
He grabbed his cane from where it rested against the nightstand and got to his feet.
Kira would do the same job Betty did, and he would make sure his relationship with her was no different than the relationship he had with Betty—purely friendly.
And that was all there was to it.
Because while he might have finally made it over the hump of grief and been ready to restart his life, it wouldn’t be with Kira Wentworth.
What he was ready for was an ordinary, everyday woman who took things in stride, who knew when to put on the full-court press and when not to, who knew the value of people over the value of appearances, who stopped long enough to smell the flowers.
And he didn’t think for a minute that Dr. Overachiever Microbiologist Kira Wentworth was that woman.
After a restless night, Kira was awake before her alarm went off. The moment she remembered where she was and what she was slated to do today, she was too antsy to linger in bed. She got up and went into the bathroom for a quick shower.
The sun was just dawning when she came out of the bathroom and stood in front of the armoire to survey the clothes she’d brought with her. She didn’t have the slightest idea what was involved in taking care of eighteen-month-old babies, which meant she wasn’t sure what to wear. But she was sure that she wanted it to be just right.
Not that she thought her nieces would even notice what she had on, but she so desperately wanted them to like her that every detail of this first meeting seemed important.
Maybe something bright, she thought, taking out a red silk shirt.
Or was that too bright? Would it scare them?
Maybe.
She replaced the shirt in the armoire and continued the search.
Definitely not the black high-necked blouse, she decided when that was the next thing that caught her eye. Black was too austere. It might send the message that she wasn’t accessible and the last thing she wanted was for her nieces to see her as standoffish.
And white might make her look too washed out, so she decided against the white rayon cap shirt, too.
Kira was tempted to wear the flowered sundress with the full skirt but she wasn’t sure if that was practical. Although she did give it a second look when it also occurred to her that this was essentially her first day on a new job and making a good impression was probably not a bad idea.
But the impression she was thinking of making with the dress was on Cutty and the moment she realized that was what was dancing on the edges of her mind she shied away from the sundress for sure.
She wasn’t in Northbridge to impress Cutty. Her goal was connecting with the babies—only with the babies—and she wouldn’t let herself be distracted from that. Not even by a pair of deep, dark green eyes that had longer, thicker lashes than any man should be entitled to.
No, she wasn’t even going to think about him. Wasn’t that what she’d told herself the night before when she’d had so much trouble getting to sleep because every time she’d closed her eyes he was there, in her thoughts? There was one reason and only one reason she’d come to Montana and that was to try to have what remained of her family in her life again. And what remained of her family were the twins. Cutty was merely incidental. To her at least. He was just the person she had to go through to get to her nieces.
So what was she going to wear? she asked herself.
She forced herself to focus on the clothes in the armoire. To concentrate.
What about the linen slacks and the short-sleeved yellow silk blouse with the banded collar?
Comfortable but not sloppy. A little color but not too much. Sort of casual—because Cutty had made that odd comment about how he liked things casual—whatever that meant. So, okay, the linen slacks and the yellow blouse it was, she decided.
The slacks that made her rear end look good.
Not that that was a factor in her choosing them, she swore to herself. It was just a coincidence.
She took the pants and the shirt to the bed and laid them out before she turned to the small dressing table to do her hair and makeup.
Although she would ordinarily have worn her hair loose on the first day of a new job, for this particular job she thought it should probably be kept under control. That meant pulling it away from her face. A French knot seemed too stiff and formal, but she thought that a ponytail might be just the ticket. So she brushed her hair, pulling it tightly back and tying a pale yellow scarf around it to keep it there.
Once she was finished with her hair she applied a little blush, mascara and lipstick. Then she returned to the bed to put on the clothes she’d chosen before pulling on trouser socks and loafers, and concluding that she was ready to face the day and this new undertaking.
Ready and eager.
“To meet the twins,” she said out loud, as if someone had accused her of being eager for more than meeting her nieces.
And that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t eager to see Cutty again, she tried to convince herself. How could
