shrugged. She’d been working since high school. She’d only been to the coast a couple of times.
“What if you go sailing or take a cruise?” Max persisted. “You ought to be able to tread water, at least.”
“Why? Because I’m going to fall in? How many people really do that? I don’t think that’s an issue.”
Crossing his arms, Max wagged his head, a papa lion setting the standard for his pride. “Knowing how to swim is a safety precaution, if nothing else. You may want to go river rafting or kayaking some day. You have to know how to handle yourself.”
“If I have that much time off and that much money, I’ll go to Nordstrom, thanks. I handle myself great there.”
Max shot a quick look at the kids to make sure they were still close and still occupied. Then he focused again on Daisy. He felt his own stubbornness rise to meet hers. He got a kick out of this enigmatic woman. Her odd mix of toughness and vulnerability captured him. One minute she was all confidence and wry independence. You could see it by the way she swaggered in her jeans, the way she’d put her hands on her hips and cocked a brow in warning at the boys when they’d teased Anabel about having to wear glasses.
On the other hand, Daisy could seem utterly out of her element and uncertain. Max wanted to know what made her tick. He wanted to know what kind of woman dressed in designer jeans, a red tank top and a dozen skinny bracelets to go on a family bike ride, but seemed utterly absorbed in the activity and unaware of the looks every boy, man and old fart sent her as she pedaled past.
If he had hired her for the restaurant, they’d probably have a full house every night.
The fact that he’d seen other men ogle her was probably what had led him to pick out two of the more modest bathing suits on the rack. The long-legged beauty before him had never swum in the ocean, Max realized. She’d never been skinny-dipping. Right or wrong—and, okay, it was definitely wrong—he wanted to be the first one to introduce her to those pleasures.
The hours he’d spent with Daisy Holden had all of Max’s senses stirred and shaken.
Returning the blue suit to the rack, he grimaced. It shouldn’t even occur to him to touch the nanny; he sure as hell hadn’t thought about touching Mrs. Carmichael.
Nothing regarding this situation with Daisy was normal. He wanted her signature on a year contract—though he’d settle for six months—because he knew the kids needed some continuity. So did he. Also, he needed to show the social worker that he had child care lined up, that the kids’ welfare was his top priority and that everything was finally under control. That part made sense. But if he thought about it a little, how persuasive would Daisy be?
Max tried to picture Nadelle Arnold, the social worker with a bite like a Doberman pinscher, warming up to Daisy, and he couldn’t do it. Nadelle was conservative and sharp as nails. From the getgo, Max had felt that the woman was looking for reasons to discredit him as a guardian. God knew he’d given her plenty of ammo. He had no experience taking care of kids 24/7; the house had been in chaos every time she’d arrived. Plus, he had thrown away a decent accounting job for a lifelong dream of opening a restaurant. Now he’d hired a nanny who was young, beautiful and had no formal nanny experience. Maybe he needed to have his head examined.
Daisy was still staring at him mutinously, arms wrapped so tightly around her waist she was probably cutting off her air supply.
“This one’s red,” he said, waggling the remaining suit. “You like red.” He gave a nod to the top that showed off her curves. She’d been wearing red the first time he saw her, too. “Pick a suit. I’ll teach you to swim.” Before she refused—and she was going to, he could tell—Max sighed. “Fear of water could be a problem when you’re taking care of four kids who love to swim, Daisy. We’re an outdoorsy family.”
“I said I wasn’t afraid.”
“Fear of drowning then.”
“I’m not afraid of drowning! I just never…I haven’t had…” He looked at her doubtfully, conveying his certitude that she was scared but didn’t want to show it. The tactic worked. “Oh, fine, I’ll try on a bathing suit!” She grabbed the red number out of his hand and quickly chose two other suits from the nearest rack. “I’ll be back,” she said, the implied instruction clear. You stay here. There would be no swimsuit modeling.
Attitude colored her every step away from him. She was peeved. Watching her stomp away, Max grinned. He had no idea if he’d saved himself and his family by hiring Daisy, or if he was setting up his own slow torture.
D.J. stood under the shower in Max’s master bathroom. The tears that flowed down her face mingled with the streams of water from the showerhead. She cried silently so no one would possibly hear her, but she felt like six kinds of a fool, nonetheless.
D.J. remembered exactly the last time she cried, it happened that infrequently. And usually for a very good reason. When Eileen died—that was the last time. This time she didn’t have a reason at all. Well…
Max had taught her to dog paddle. That was her reason.
Scrubbing her hair more vigorously than necessary, D.J. tried to put aside the image of his smiling at her fumbling attempts to swim without snorting a schnozful of chlorine. He’d smiled patiently, full of encouragement…the way he’d smiled at James when the less athletic twin had tried to dive like his brother, and the way he’d smiled at Liv in her water wings. The amazing thing was that D.J. hadn’t felt diminished by his consideration; she’d felt nurtured. Held. Even when his hands hadn’t been touching her. And when they had…
Lordy, Lordy. What was wrong with her?
Putting her palms on the slick, tiled wall in front of her, D.J. braced her quivering body. She was strong. She was independent. For years and years she’d viewed herself that way and believed her survival depended on her strength. She didn’t know the shaky, glob of Jell-O feeling inside her, and she didn’t want to know it. Max Lotorto was merely a man. This excess of emotion was absurd. She must be PMS-ing.
Turning off the water, D.J. wrapped a towel around her body and stepped from the shower. Max had said he wanted to talk to her after the kids were fed. Most likely he was going to press his point about a contract. Naturally she would not agree, but she wanted to be able to think clearly, unemotionally when they spoke, so that she could impress upon him the need to search for a real nanny. Immediately.
After today D.J. knew it was time to leave. With luck, Loretta would be satisfied with the information D.J. currently had and would offer appropriate compensation. Maybe the money wouldn’t be as good as what they’d originally agreed on, but once D.J. was safely back in Seattle, she could get a second job to pay off the bills that were in arrears. It would all work out.
That was her chant as she dressed in a denim skirt and short-sleeved blouse. It will all work out for everyone…It will all work out for everyone….
She was about to leave the bedroom when her cell phone rang. Running to retrieve the phone from her purse, D.J. frowned at the name showing on her caller ID: the Oasis. What was that? The phone number had an unfamiliar area code.
She pressed the talk button. “D. J. Holden.”
“Ms. Holden? This is Loretta Mallory.”
Relief and adrenaline surged concurrently
