to make a fresh start.”
“Yes,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “But I’d already decided to do that before...”
The waterworks were about to start again. “Before he broke your heart,” he finished for her, deciding a quick, clean cut was kinder than letting her linger in misery.
She continued to stare at him as if she thought he was slightly mad. “No. Someone in my family died.”
“Oh,” he said, and then, insensitive clod that he was, added, “I assumed some guy had dumped you.”
She gave a watery laugh at that. “No, nothing quite that simple, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Bennett, I didn’t mean to make light of your loss.”
A fresh load of tears sparkled in her eyes. “My emotions are very close to the surface right now.”
“I fully appreciate that.” Uninvited, he advanced into the room and perched on the windowsill. “What can I do to make things easier for you?”
She shook her head, which was enough to send the tears flying down her cheeks. “Nothing.”
Should he lend a shoulder for her to cry on? Pat her back? Stroke her pretty hair and murmur words of comfort?
The thought stirred him more thoroughly than his earlier bedroom encounter with Louise. Hurriedly, he handed over a fresh tissue and wished he’d waited until the morning to have this conversation. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
“Herbal tea,” she said. “I thought it might help me sleep. I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home in the kitchen.”
“Not in the least, but how about a shot of brandy instead?”
“No, thank you. I don’t drink much.”
“That’s good,” he said. A closet tippler was the last thing he—or Tom—needed! “It might not be a bad idea to make an exception just this once, though. In fact, I could use a drink myself.”
Before she could raise further objections, he stuffed another tissue in her hand and made his escape. On his way downstairs, he poked his head into Tom’s room. He was fast asleep. From behind her door, Janet’s rhythmic snoring told him all was well on that front, also.
By the time he returned to the nanny’s room, she’d got the tears under control. Even though her eyes had a bruised look about them, she managed to drum up a smile.
“Here,” he said, offering her the snifter. “Down the hatch with this and you’ll sleep like a baby, I promise.”
She took a sip and grimaced. “I do apologize, Commander Warner. I’m not usually such an emotional mess.”
“Why didn’t you say something this afternoon? Did you think I’d reject your application, because you’ve suffered a family bereavement?”
She hesitated before replying and he thought an expression of near-guilt crossed her face, but it was such a fleeting thing that he couldn’t be sure. “Private details don’t belong in interviews,” she said finally.
“They do sometimes, especially if they affect a person’s ability to cope with her duties.”
“Oh, I won’t allow that to happen!” she exclaimed, a flush of alarm tinting her pale face. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize Tommy’s well-being.”
She looked so earnest, and so damned soft and appealing that he was startled to find himself again inclined to draw her into his arms and comfort her. To preclude any such action, he downed the rest of his brandy, stood up to leave, and said, “I believe you, Miss Bennett.”
“Do you? Really?”
“Every word.”
Why didn’t she look reassured at that? What caused her to gnaw uneasily on her lip, as though he’d handed her a gift she didn’t deserve?
“Look,” he said, “I understand only too well the void left behind when someone dies but the only way to get past it is to go forward, because standing still and looking back at what we’ve lost is just too painful.”
She got up from the chair and pressed her hands together. He noticed they were every bit as fine and soft as he’d expected them to be. “You’re right. Thank you, Commander. I swear you won’t regret entrusting Tommy to my care.”
“I don’t expect to. Good night, Miss Bennett.”
He’d turned away and was almost at the door when she stopped him with one last request. “Won’t you please call me Nicole?”
Strange, the effect the request had on him. There was something forlorn in her voice that told him more clearly than anything she’d actually put into words that she was hurting badly and fighting with every ounce of grit she could muster to cope with the pain.
“Nicole,” he echoed, hearing the cadence of her name on his tongue and liking how it sounded.
Embarrassed to find himself staring into her eyes as if he’d been hypnotized, he cleared his throat and said brusquely, “Well, if we’re dropping the formalities and I suppose, since you’re more or less part of the family now, we might as well, I’m Pierce.”
“Yes.” She smiled a little. “The name suits you.”
Instinct told him not to ask, but curiosity got the better of him. “How so?”
“Everything about you is very direct. A woman knows where she stands with you and I admire that in a man.”
There were a few things he admired about her, too. Her hair, for instance, and the classic oval of her face. And her long, dark lashes. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d washed or wept away her makeup, he might have thought they were false or coated with eye shadow, or whatever it was women put on them for effect. In any event, they added drama to her already lovely eyes.
But it was more than just her face that he found appealing, he admitted, allowing his gaze to roam over the rest of her. She had the sort of slight build that brought a man’s protective urges to the fore. Her waist was narrow as a child’s, her hips a mere suggestion beneath the blue dressing gown, and her breasts ... were none of his concern.
He cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, good night, Nicole.”
“Good night, Pierce.”
“Sleep well.”
“I’ll try.”
Shutting the door after him, Nicole leaned against it and let out a slow breath of relief. How could she have come so close to blowing her cover, knowing as she did what she had to lose by doing so? The thing was, he’d caught her in a moment of weakness and that, combined with his sympathy, had almost undone her.
She’d realized her mistake at once. There’d been no misinterpreting his wariness at the idea of her having lied. Quite how he’d have reacted if
