this the face of a man still in love with his dead wife? Is that what his expression meant?
A little knot squeezed her chest tight, and for some reason, Annie couldn’t bear to sit here beside him another moment.
“I’m heading back,” she said, and got to her feet.
He came out of his reverie and rose beside her. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Not necessary,” Annie insisted. “I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to.”
“Believe it or not, Miss Martin, insuring that my children’s nanny doesn’t succumb to heatstroke is an important matter to me.”
Putting it that way made Annie’s refusal sound a bit silly. Still, she didn’t want to ride with him, didn’t want him—or anyone who might see them—to get the idea she was interested in anything more than his children.
Because she wasn’t. Was she?
Annie backed away. “No, really, Mr. Ingalls, I’d rather walk.”
He followed as she backed away. “It’s too far and too hot.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ll be fine. Really.”
Josh stopped a pace in front of her. “Is there some…other reason you don’t want to ride with me?”
The breath went out of Annie as Josh gazed down at her. What was it about this man? Sometimes when he looked at her—simply looked—he caused the most peculiar reaction.
“Well?” he asked, inching closer.
Annie managed to look up at him. “I—I don’t want anyone to get the idea I’m…”
“You’re…?”
What was it Georgia had said about the other nannies? “I don’t want anyone to think I’m sniffing around after you.”
A little grin tugged at his lips. “Sniffing around?”
“Yes,” she said, and felt her cheeks grow warm. “That I’m interested in you because of your wealth or…other things. Because I certainly don’t—”
He kissed her on the mouth. Looped his arms around her, pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers, blending them together. Stunned, Annie hung in his embrace, unable to stand, unable to breathe. His thighs touched hers. His chest brushed her breasts. And he tasted delightful, like—she had no idea what, for she’d never before tasted anything so fine.
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