didn’t know how she was supposed to react to such a remark. Insulted, probably. He made it sound as if he’d been expecting the worst.
“They’re beautiful children.” Just as her own children were beautiful. “You must be very proud.” Just as Cara was inestimably proud.
She bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Had a note of fondness crept into her tone? One that she felt for her own children?
To her dismay she realized that all of the toys were packed away and the room was tidy. As her heart seemed to sink into her stomach, Cara realized that she had no other option but to look him square in the eye.
She could only pray that he wouldn’t look at her and know her life had been shaken to its very core.
Chapter Three
Cara felt a jolt of something akin to electricity shoot through her system when their gazes locked, but she quickly dismissed the reaction, knowing that her nerves were strung as tightly as a tennis racket.
“I’m impressed at the way you were able to get them to bed so easily,” Ross said. “Usually the girls are very fractious with a new sitter.”
Fractious. Cara was sure that she’d never heard anyone use the word in a sentence before. But she shouldn’t be so surprised. Ross Gifford was obviously very educated and sophisticated. He probably said and did a lot of things that were beyond her daily realm. He belonged to the same world as her ex-husband. One filled with pomp and ceremony and an overwhelming interest in appearances. Hadn’t she learned that lesson more than once where Elliot was concerned? He’d been so consumed with the need to look and speak the part of a cultured man of the world that she hadn’t known what a bastard she’d married until she’d discovered that he was spending most of his time with another woman.
“In fact, I usually have problems with the girls even if I leave them with someone with whom they are acquainted.
She shrugged. “Surely they’ve done well with Melba. She must be used to their routines by now.”
“Yes, but even when she visits, they won’t go to bed as easily as you’ve said. If Melba manages to convince them to sleep, they wake up as soon as they hear the car in the garage.”
“Like I said, maybe they were tired out. They didn’t give me a bit of trouble all night.”
One of his brows lifted. “Really?”
He seemed so surprised that Cara asked, “Were you expecting a riot?”
He took a deep breath and seemed to consider his words. “Frankly, judging from past babysitting experiences, I was expecting crying, screaming and tantrums that would continue unabated for hours on end.”
Cara couldn’t help quipping, “From the children or their baby-sitter?”
His lips tugged in the faintest hint of a grin—one that made her breath catch in her throat.
“Both, actually.”
“Why? They seem like perfect angels to me.”
“Then they were definitely on their best behavior.” His eyes narrowed and she felt him studying her. Her heart knocked against her ribs when she wondered what he saw there. Could some hint of the shock she’d experienced still linger on her face despite her efforts to remain calm?
Ross’s gaze was intent but not suspicious. Instead, he looked at her the way that…
The way that a man looked at a woman when he was interested.
No. Cara immediately pushed the idea aside. She was overreacting, that was all. Her thoughts and her emotions were off-kilter. She was confused and unsettled.
So why was she lingering when the time had come for her to leave?
“I…I should go now,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”
Ross offered her a curt nod and tugged at his tie, making her overtly conscious of the lean strength of his fingers and the slight dusting of hair on the backs of his hands.
“It has been a long day, but I tend to get a little wired after one of these evenings. Will you join me for some coffee?”
No. Absolutely not.
But even as the inner voice warned her, she was so startled by the invitation that she found herself saying instead, “Sure.”
“Good.”
He dragged the tie free from his collar and released the top button at his collar. Then a second button. A third.
Cara found her gaze latching on to that vee of flesh exposed against the crisp white of his dress shirt. He really was a good-looking man.
Perhaps a little too good-looking.
Cara didn’t trust that quality in a man, either. Elliot had been male-model handsome, but she had discovered soon enough that the outer beauty camouflaged a weak character.
So why, after vowing to herself that she wouldn’t be caught in the same trap again, did she feel the faint stirrings of attraction?
No. Absolutely not! She didn’t find him in the least bit attractive.
But even as she insisted as much to herself, a tingling awareness spread through her veins as he extended a hand toward her.
“I’ll carry that for you.”
Unconsciously Cara clutched the duffel bag even more securely—as if it were a shield to protect her from…
From what?
There was nothing about Ross Gifford’s appearance or manner to make her feel threatened. In fact, the sadness that cloaked his features made her feel as if she should be doing something for him rather than for herself.
But as she admitted the twinge of concern, she knew that she couldn’t give in to such emotions. She couldn’t dwell on her physical reaction to the man. She couldn’t afford that luxury. Such emotions would simply complicate the situation—and heaven only knew her current predicament was already untenable.
Since Ross was still waiting, she reluctantly handed him the duffel bag, all the while wishing she hadn’t agreed to stay for coffee. She was playing with fire and had no doubts that she would get burned.
Ross led the way through the big, silent house, offering Cara glimpses of rooms that were lushly decorated but curiously devoid of color. At long last they reached the kitchen with its white cabinets, pale tile and pale marble counters.
Who was responsible for the absence of color in the house? Was it a designer’s decision or had Ross made the choice?
“Have a seat,” Ross said, gesturing to a pair of stools drawn up to an ornate center island.
“Decaf or regular coffee,” he asked.
“Decaf.”
Ross
