thought made her smile. What kind of body would a scientist-type have? She’d never really thought about it before. But she could easily imagine that a man who was so focused on research and experiments would be stuck in the library with his nose in a book, or in the lab bent over a microscope. But Pierce looked tanned and healthy. His muscles were toned—she’d seen that for herself today as he’d lifted the watering pail.
The faucet gurgled, the warm water that filled the tub caressing her skin as it rose higher and higher. It was so easy to envision the tickle of the water replaced by Pierce’s touch, his fingertips stroking her flesh ever so lightly.
Yes, he was the most handsome man she’d ever met in her life. However, she’d been surprised this morning to discover just how fascinated she was by his intellect. Normally she tended to avoid people who held titles and diplomas, people who had letters of educational distinction after their names. But when Pierce had talked about his work, she’d felt…drawn to him.
She sighed and thought of his perfect mouth, wondered what it would feel like on hers, imagined what his lips would taste like. Suddenly in her mind’s eye she saw his tapered fingers, and then with very little conjuring she could almost feel his touch on her skin. His flesh was hot against her own. She envisioned placing her hand on the back of his, guiding his palm over her taut stomach, up toward her breasts until his fingertips were snuggled between them.
Again she sighed, and her back arched languidly in the heated bathwater.
Then her eyes opened wide. She blinked, and then she sat up so quickly that water sloshed onto the floor. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind?
Avoiding these kinds of situations, these kinds of feelings, had been her number one priority for years. Wasn’t it sensual urges just like the ones floating around in her head that had caused her friends to ruin their lives?
Amy had watched as, one by one, her friends had fallen in love, gotten married and then gotten themselves pregnant. Sometimes not even in that order. But regardless of how they had gone about falling into the trap, they still had fallen. Right into the deadly snare.
Stuck for life in that small Podunk town. Never going anywhere. Never experiencing anything. That was the future her friends back in Lebo had relegated themselves to.
Oh, she’d allowed herself to date back home. She’d go out with a guy a time or two, maybe even three if he didn’t appeal to her too much. But once she got that bug…the moment she felt that first inkling that the relationship might develop into something beyond cordial, she’d nip it right in the bud.
She’d broken a heart or two back in Kansas. But that couldn’t be helped. She had a plan for her life.
The loofah sponge she snatched up felt rough against her fingers. She squirted some bath gel onto its surface and began scrubbing her skin in tiny circular motions.
A slight panic began to roil in her as Pierce’s face loomed in her brain, his green eyes tempting her, his perfect mouth enticing her.
She wasn’t going to ruin her plan, darn it! She’d just finished training as a flight attendant. She’d succeeded in getting out. She’d escaped the trap. She had a whole world to see. A slew of experiences to…well, to experience.
She wasn’t going to let a little sexual urge get in her way.
Amy, a small voice in the back of her mind intoned, just because you’re attracted to Pierce Kincaid doesn’t mean you have to act on it. Control. That’s all it takes. You can certainly ignore this temptation for the couple of months it will take for Jeremiah and Benjamin’s parents to return.
Pierce would never be interested in her, anyway—of that she was sure. Not unless she began to sprout stems and leaves and big, fat flower blossoms.
“And there’s little chance of that happening,” she murmured to herself.
She inhaled deeply, let the air leave her in a rush. She relaxed. Control slowly returned.
Perception really was everything.
If she chose to perceive this situation as safe and nonthreatening to her life plan, then that’s exactly what it would become.
And heaven knew she didn’t need to worry about Pierce noticing her as anything more than the temporary nanny who was caring for his nephews. No, she had no worries there.
Pierce lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Ten minutes ago, he’d heard the water running in the bathroom down the hall. Evidently unable to sleep, Amy must have decided to have a bath.
At first he’d fought his imagination. He’d tried to ignore the image his brain conjured up of her slipping out of her nightgown, shimmying out of her lacy undergarments. But the more he attempted to disregard the inappropriate thoughts, the stronger and more persistent they seemed to become.
He “saw” her lift one milky foot, then the other, to step into the tub, and then his mind’s eye watched as she eased her delectable body down into the water. Sweat broke out on his brow and his pulse skittered. Pierce kicked the sheet aside in an attempt to cool the fever rushing through him.
This was wrong. He’d decided a long time ago that his work was more important than anything else. Anything else.
He didn’t want to think of Amy in a sexual manner—no, these thoughts were softer, fuzzier, and could only be described as a sensual manner. But whatever manner they were, he didn’t want this. Not when he knew nothing could ever come of it. Nothing lasting, that was.
He rolled over onto his side, punched the pillow, shifted to a comfortable position and willed sleep to come. And when that didn’t work, he prayed for release from this sweet agony.
However, all too soon he found himself on his back once again, staring at the ceiling…dreaming of the naked nanny.
Chapter Three
Sitting down at his work table in the lab, Pierce picked up a pen with the intention of recording the seedling growth measurement in his data notebook. But the exact number of centimeters dissolved from his mind as if it had been spun candy on his tongue.
But he’d just measured the darned things.
He tossed down the pen and went back to the seedling tray with his calibrated ruler in hand.
As he leaned over the tray of delicate sprouts, eyes the color of toasted cinnamon loomed in his mind. He straightened, his head tilting slightly to the side unwittingly as he pondered the color of Amy’s hair. It was light brown, of course, but that just seemed too ordinary a description and left him searching for a truer one. There were blond strands that brought out a…a hue that was almost…butterscotch.
He smiled. That was it. Butterscotch.
Pierce went back to the worktable, set down the ruler, picked up his pen—and promptly discovered that he hadn’t even taken the seedling’s measurements.
Dropping the pen, he scrubbed at his face with both hands. Work had gone slowly all day. He had been preoccupied.
With Amy.
Last night his imagination had been stirred to a near frenzy as he’d envisioned her in the
