my, no!” she replied, and saw the corners of his mouth lift in a faint smile. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “It’s just that this is a job—dating has no part in it.”
“I’m teasing. Forget it. You told me you weren’t interested.” He picked up the letters and walked around the desk to toss them in the trash.
“How do you know that there wasn’t that one perfect, older, mature, grandmotherly type in those letters?”
“I read through them. I’ve had so many interviews, I don’t think I can stand one more.”
“So I was sort of chosen by default.”
“No, not really. That day you were out here, you had a connection with Megan. That was important.”
The dining room was another large room with a fireplace. As they walked into the room, she heard a baby’s wail through the intercom.
“Megan is awake. You can come with me to get her.”
Grace hurried with him, and at the nursery door, he stepped aside to let her enter first, but then he moved past her to pick up the crying baby. As he bent over the crib, his T-shirt clung tightly, revealing the ripple of muscles. Grace watched the flex of muscles in his back and arms. His broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist and narrow hips. How was she going to work with this man daily and keep everything impersonal? Just watching him, she felt flushed and warm.
“Have you ever changed a diaper before?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. After my interview with you, I baby-sat a friend’s three-month-old baby several times so I could practice.”
“Good,” he said, holding Megan on his shoulder and patting her. She quieted and he moved to a changing table, changing her diaper swiftly and then picking her up again. “I think I better get a bottle first and then I’ll show you where all her things are and go over her schedule.”
“Let me give her the bottle so she’ll begin to get accustomed to me,” Grace said. Wyatt nodded and handed Megan to her.
“Hi, Megan,” Grace said softly, holding the baby up on her shoulder and patting her. From that moment, for the rest of the day, Grace was busy with the baby and learning about the house and schedules and what Wyatt expected.
“I’ll take care of her at night,” Wyatt said that evening when he gave Megan a bottle. “The only time you have to take over duties after bedtime is when I’m away. Whenever I’m around in the evening, I’ll take care of her.”
“I can help. After all, I’ll be here, anyway,” Grace said.
Megan was fussing and Grace and Wyatt took turns walking her, the only thing that seemed to quiet her. At one point Wyatt told Grace to eat supper. Then she looked after Megan so he could eat.
While Wyatt got Megan to sleep, Grace went to her room to unpack. She could hear him in the nursery, talking and singing softly to Megan, and later, the creak of the rocking chair.
Grace put her clothes in a large chest of drawers, looking again at the beautiful room where she would live. Too clearly, though, she could remember Wyatt standing in it, watching her curiously with his brows arched. There were moments when he seemed to focus his full attention on her, and those moments made her pulse race.
It was difficult to reconcile the man who was rocking and singing to a tiny baby in the next room with the person who ran out on a young woman he got pregnant when they were in high school. If anyone seemed the perfect, totally caring father to a baby, it was Wyatt Sawyer. Perhaps the years had changed him.
It was after midnight and the house was quiet when she showered and dressed in her short blue nightgown. She brushed out her hair, climbed into bed and fell asleep.
She had no idea what time it was when she stirred at the sound of Megan crying. She remembered Wyatt saying he would get up in the night with Megan, so she tried to go back to sleep, but the baby continued crying until finally Grace threw back the sheet and got up. She pulled on her blue cotton robe and hurried to the nursery to check on the baby. She noticed the open door to Wyatt’s room. How could he sleep through Megan’s crying?
Avoiding glancing in the direction of Wyatt’s bed, Grace rushed to close his door. While Megan cried, Grace switched on a small table lamp.
“Are you hungry, sweetie?” she asked softly, picking the baby up and walking her, trying to quiet her. She remembered where Wyatt kept formula and bottles and turned to carry Grace to the kitchen.
Just then the door to Wyatt’s room flew open. He started into the room, saw Grace with Megan and froze.
Three
Wyatt had heard Megan crying and then rolled out of bed, yanking on his briefs. For more than two weeks he’d been up most nights and he was groggy. He swung open the nursery door, started into the room and stopped abruptly. A light was on, and Grace was holding Megan in her arms.
Neither of them moved. He stared into her startled green eyes. Whatever surprise she felt, he was certain his was greater.
Coming out of a deep sleep, he had temporarily forgotten her presence. Now he faced a woman who looked entirely different from the person he’d interviewed and hired. Her riot of red hair was down, framing her face and tumbling over her shoulders. She held Megan gently in her arms. She looked disheveled, earthy, appealing. He felt something twist deep inside. She wore a cotton robe that had been pushed open by the baby resting against her. Beneath the robe she wore a skimpy, blue nightie that revealed lush breasts and long, shapely legs. His gaze snapped up to catch her looking at him, and her cheeks were pink. He realized he was only in his briefs.
“Sorry. I forgot,” he said in a husky voice.
She turned swiftly, trying to close her robe. “I’ll get her bottle. I heard her crying and didn’t think you would wake. I can take care of her.”
With Megan in her arms, Grace made her escape from the room. Wyatt still stood there in shock. He’d hired a beautiful woman. Standing there in the soft light, she’d looked gorgeous. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could erase the image and go back to seeing her as plain and his nanny and nothing more. But there was no erasing the image that taunted him now.
“Hell,” he muttered, and returned to his room to yank on his jeans. He raked his fingers through his hair and headed for the kitchen. “I knew I should have hired someone a thousand years old. A grandmother with wrinkles and experience.”
Grace was trying to mix formula with one hand, jiggling Megan who continued to cry with the other arm. Grace’s back was to the doorway, but she turned to look at him when he came in. She had her robe pulled together, but he still could imagine the delectable body underneath the cotton.
“I haven’t changed her yet,” Grace said. “If you’ll do that, I’ll have her bottle ready when you’re done and I can give it to her.”
“Sure,” he said, without thinking about what he was answering. Crossing the room, he took the baby from her. The moment he was close enough to reach for Megan, Grace looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to envelop him and pull him into depths that were filled with mystery. He could smell a fresh, soapy scent and that riotous red hair was an invitation for a man to bury his fingers in its softness. Her skin was rosy,
