the door and by him.
“It’s Laura Beaumont,” she said huskily, her smile suddenly shy.
“Laura Beaumont,” he repeated dumbly.
“And you are Adam, I think you said?”
He realized abruptly that he was staring and stuck out his hand. “Adam Fortune.”
The name didn’t seem to mean a thing to her. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fortune.”
Her hand felt delicate and weightless and utterly feminine in his. “Call me Adam.”
“Yes, of course, if you’ll stick with Laura.”
“Oh, I will,” he mumbled absently, warmed by the bright golden droplets of laughter that filled the cold February air. “Indeed I will.”
It suddenly seemed no burden at all to be single with children.
Two
“I’ll make a deal with you,” he was saying. “I won’t call the owner of the diner if you’ll come to work for me. You see, we need a nanny.”
Laura pulled her gaze in and tamped down her excitement. He was entirely too good to look at, and if she had learned anything, it was to be leery of good-looking men. And yet… She shook her head. “I don’t have any experience or training in that area.”
He looked at her, momentarily taking his eyes off the road. “No? Well, maybe that’s a good thing. You sure seem to have a way with them, and maybe that’s more important.”
She sucked in her bottom lip, wavering. Something good could happen once in a while, couldn’t it? Her luck didn’t have to be all bad. What did she have to lose, anyway? She tried to think. “I, um, don’t have a car.”
“Oh? Well, that doesn’t matter, really. It’s, um, a live-in position. Room, meals, salary.” He shot her a grin. “And I think we can do better by you than that pancake house back there.”
Laura caught her breath. Room, meals, and a salary? He went on talking.
“Breakfast is the sticking point. Trained nannies don’t like to cook. However, our cook doesn’t like to live in. She’s married, you see, and by the time she can feed her husband and get him off to work, straighten her house and get out to ours, it’s time to fix lunch. And since I’m about as useful in a kitchen as a coat hanger, the nanny has to fix breakfast. Think you can handle that?”
Laura had to smile. As if making breakfast were a problem. She’d once thought that she’d gladly do without just to escape kitchen duty at the group home where she spent the majority of her childhood. Once again, however, the home had proved its value, home being the operative word. It would be nice to have a home again. She frowned. If she did this thing, she mustn’t let herself fall into the trap of considering Adam Fortune’s home to be her home. Still…Room, meals, and a salary—it was just too good to pass up. She took a deep breath. “You have to understand, it would only be temporary.”
His brow wrinkled at that. “How temporary?”
“Well…” She thought quickly, looking for a fair way to protect herself. It was February. March, April, May, June… School would be out, summer would come, traveling would be easy… School. Yes, that could work. She winced inwardly at how easily the lie came to her. “The thing is, I promised, um, Sister Agnes that I would finish my college degree. I had help the first year, sort of a scholarship, but the rest is up to me, so I’ve been working and saving my money, and now I almost have enough to go back to school.”
He nodded. “Okay. Can’t argue with that. So what you’re saying is that you’d be leaving us in the fall.”
“Well, maybe sooner. It—it all depends.”
He sent her a quizzical look, and for a moment she thought he’d demand a firm date of departure, but he only inclined his head, shifted in his seat and said, “About your salary, shall we say…”
He named a dollar amount that made her mouth drop open. When she recovered, she very nearly told him that it was too much, but then she thought about how far she could go on such an amount, how well she could hide. She could save almost every penny of it, since she wouldn’t have to pay rent or buy groceries. She closed her eyes and silently gave thanks. Perhaps God had not abandoned her after all. Perhaps she had finally atoned for the past, and the long nightmare was over. Her eyes popped open. No, that was dangerous thinking. She dared not let down her guard, especially now. She was responsible for the care and safety of three precious children now, and she would protect them, as God was her witness, with her very life.
Adam supposed that he should be pleased with himself. He hadn’t had to cancel his appointment or call on his sister or his aunt. Granted, all he had accomplished with his meeting was to cross another prospect off his list. Auto lube was definitely not his thing. The problem was that he was no closer to finding his thing than before. He would have to draft a letter for his secretary to type informing the franchise people that he wasn’t interested in lubing cars. He shook his head. He had an office. He had a secretary. He just didn’t have anything to do. Well, at least he’d solved the problem of the nanny—hopefully. He was feeling a little less sure of that decision now.
It had seemed so right at the time, but what did he know about Laura Beaumont, really, besides the fact that she was beautiful? He supposed that was part of it. What had a woman like her been doing living week to week in a seedy motel on a poorly traveled road and slinging hash in a pancake house? She might be just what she seemed, a rootless young woman without family or friends, trying to make her way in the world alone, saving up tuition for college, but it seemed preposterous that she wasn’t attached to someone by now. She wasn’t the sort men passed by without a second look. It just didn’t add up. She didn’t add up.
He opened his front door with more than a little trepidation, uncertain what he was going to find. The place was silent, almost ominously so, given that his children were in residence. Had she gagged and bound them? Locked them in closets? Tied them to their beds? He hung up his coat, the hair standing on the back of his neck as he silently surveyed the area. He stepped across the hall and into the living room.
“Wendy? Rob? Ryan? I’m home.”
Nothing. He stepped back into the hall and moved swiftly toward the bedrooms. He turned the knob on Wendy’s door and thrust it open, stepping aside, as he’d been taught to do in the army. The room was empty—and neat. The bed was made, the clothing was put away, the toys were stashed out of sight. What was going on here?
He crossed the hall to the boys’ room. The place was neat as a pin, and Robbie was lying on his bed, looking at a book. A book! Adam walked over and slipped his hands in his slacks pockets, noting that an egg timer from the kitchen was ticking away on the dresser.
“What’re you doing, Rob?”
The boy dropped the book. “I’m it,” he announced.
It. “Uh-huh. How come?”
He looked not in the least repentant as he confessed, “’Cause I spitted on Ryan.”
Nothing surprising in that. Adam sat down on the edge of the bed. “You shouldn’t spit, Robbie. It’s not nice.”
“I
