onto the sand, the fabric of her dress sticking to her thighs as if it had been glued on.
The man had pulled the bow of the boat onto dry land and was plucking the boys from it when he said to her, “You’re Amy Edwards? The nanny?”
“Yes. That would be me.” She stepped forward meaning to offer him her hand, but realized her fingers were cold and damp, so she eased them behind her back. “You’re Dr. Kincaid. The boys’ uncle.”
Her well-practiced, cocksure tone came without thought, but she was anything but certain. The boys’ parents had been scheduled to leave before she arrived in Glory, Delaware. But for all Amy knew, plans could have changed. Cynthia Winthrop had told her that her brother would be with the boys when Amy arrived; however, the man could be anyone—another relative, a family friend, a neighbor.
He smiled, and Amy’s brain went haywire. She felt as if she might melt right into the carpet of thick grass beneath her bare feet.
“That’s right,” he told her. “Call me Pierce.”
He crouched down on his haunches then, turning his attention to the children.
“I thought I left you in front of the television watching a video,” he said, a distinct reprimand in his tone.
“But the movie’s been over for a long time, Uncle Pierce,” one of the boys complained.
“A long time,” the other parroted.
Surprise lifted his features. He studied his wristwatch. Then his shoulders rounded a bit and he looked down at his nephews. “So it has. I’m sorry, boys. I guess I got caught up in my work.”
Once again that vivid green gaze was on her, and it unsettled her all over again. She fought the urge to smooth her hand over her soggy dress.
“I have to say,” he told her, placing his palms on his knees and standing, “I’m impressed with your quick attempt to fetch the boys. Although I find it amusing that you went at the rescue the hard way. The lanyard was lying right there.”
Her heart pounded. Explaining herself wasn’t something she did very well, especially when she felt put on the spot. Her father had warned her that Dr. Pierce Kincaid was a highly intelligent man…and Amy usually avoided highly intelligent men. For very good reason. However, neither her dad nor Cynthia Winthrop had warned Amy that the doctor could be a grumpy Gus when he wanted to be.
During her two-day drive from Kansas, she’d pondered a hundred possible situations that might leave her looking like an idiot in front of the doctor, as well as means to avoid them. Walking into the Delaware Bay, fully clothed, had not been a scenario she’d anticipated.
“How could I see it?” she asked when the idea came to her like a bolt from the blue. “It was under water until you picked it up.”
The man’s oh-so-perfect mouth went flat. He murmured, “I guess that’s true enough.”
She added, “Besides that, someone had to rescue the oar.”
He nodded, his features relaxing as he looked at her.
“They shouldn’t have been out here alone.” She hadn’t meant to criticize, but the opinion seemed to roll off her tongue by its own volition.
Contrition darkened his green gaze. “You’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t have lost track of time like that.” After a moment, he sighed and then focused his attention on the twins.
“What were the two of you thinking?”
“The boat wasn’t on the list of rules you gave us,” one child quickly replied, blatant defensiveness in his tone. “So we thought it would be okay.”
One of the man’s dark eyebrows arched dubiously.
“Obviously your powers of deduction haven’t fully matured.”
The second twin said, “It was Benjamin’s idea.”
“Was not!”
“Was too!”
“Boys.”
Although his voice hadn’t risen at all, the children went quiet. Amy chuckled.
Horrified that all eyes were on her, she reached up and pressed her fingers to her mouth. It was nerves. No doubt about it. This situation had her as tense as a lop-eared rabbit in a rocking-chair factory.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Unwilling to reveal her state of anxiety, she only shrugged. “The twins sure are cute when they squabble.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “They’re cuter when they’re not getting into trouble.”
Automatically Amy’s gaze drifted to the twins. The red, bleary eyes of one, the defiant chin thrust of the other. A strange thing happened to her insides. They turned all warm and mushy.
“You said you were heading east,” she said. “Out into the Atlantic. You were going after your mom and dad, weren’t you? You were heading for Africa.”
The child who had been crying blinked, his chin trembling at the mention of his parents, and Amy thought her heart would dissolve right there in her chest.
She went to him, bent down and tilted her head to one side. His cheek was downy soft against her fingertips. “Are you Jeremiah? Or Benjamin?”
“Jeremiah.” The child could barely speak around the emotion lumping in his throat.
“Well, Jeremiah, I know how you’re feeling. I miss my parents, too.”
He sniffed. “Did your mom and dad go to Africa?”
Her mouth curled. “No. My dad is back in Kansas.” She paused, not quite knowing how to explain about her mother. “My mom went far, far away.”
“Farther than Africa?” Benjamin’s tone was awed.
“Farther than Africa.” She gave both boys a smile. “But you know what I do when I’m missing them something fierce?”
The children waited, subdued anticipation holding them still.
“I keep busy doing fun things,” she told him. Then she grinned. “And that’s just what we’re going to do this summer. You and me. Lots of fun things.”
“Speaking of fun things,” the boys’ uncle interjected, “who’s ready for dinner?”
She straightened and saw that he’d picked up the suitcase she’d left on the grass. He’d also gathered up her shoes. Having him carry her shoes felt too…personal to Amy. She hurried to take them from him. Their gazes collided and she murmured her appreciation. For a moment it seemed as if the cool breeze died and the sun grew hotter. Amy found it difficult to swallow.
But the stillness was broken when Jeremiah got upset all over again. He wailed, “But I don’t like ruffled sprouts.”
Benjamin’s nose wrinkled. “They smell bad.”
“They’re
