Her internal temperature spiked to match the hundred-degree heat as she admired six-pack abs, a strong chest dusted with dark hair attached to a corded neck, and a head buried in a gray cotton T-shirt.
“Hey, Russ.” A deep voice came from within the depths of bunched-up material. “Thanks for coming over so quickly. I’ve been picking up before the nanny gets here. I’ve only got ten minutes to grab a quick shower.”
Before she could respond, the shirt finished its journey, leaving mussed mink-brown hair in its wake. A myriad of emotions flowed over Sheriff Trace Oliver’s sharp-edged features. Surprise, annoyance and finally resignation flashed through eyes the color of lush green grass.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope you’re Russ’s older sister, come to help out in a crunch?”
She shook her head, felt the heavy weight of the long brunette mane hanging down her back and vaguely wished she’d pulled it up and off her neck. Smiling, and doing her best to ignore all the toned, tanned skin on display, she held out a hand.
“Nikki Rhodes, potential nanny,” she introduced herself.
“You’re early.” The words were curt as he gripped her hand and let his intense gaze roam over her. Ever the optimist, she decided to take his comment as an observation rather than an admonishment.
“Yes. It’s supposed to be an admirable trait.”
In sheer self-preservation she broke away from his forceful gaze. Instead her glance fell to where her hand lay, cradled in his warm, strong grasp.
“Not always.” He responded to her comment with a grimace, and motioned to his shorts and bare chest.
Oh, man. And she’d been trying so hard not to stare. She didn’t want to think of her charge’s father in a physical way. It just made for unwanted complications. She cleared her throat.
“I’ll remember that for the future.” She nodded her head toward her silver Camry at the curb. “Shall I wait in the car while you shower?”
“What? No.” He stepped back, drawing her inside. “Please come in.” He frowned at their clasped hands, as if surprised to find her hand still in his. Abruptly, he released her. “I’ll adjust.”
Nikki followed him inside; she took in the living room, small dining-room-kitchen combo, and wondered what he could possibly have had to pick up in anticipation of her visit. The rooms were buffed to a high gloss and lacked any form of clutter. The furniture, what there was of it, was all large and modern, all straight lines and muted blues and grays. Nothing in the room suggested a baby lived there. In fact, it had a military feel to it.
One glance around the everything-in-its-place interior and she recognized his need for control. Oh, yeah, she’d been there, lived with that and had no desire to repeat the experience. Reason number two why she should end this interview now.
Amanda, at home on bedrest, kept Nikki’s feet planted right where she stood.
“Have a seat,” he said. “I’m going to grab a clean shirt.”
Yes, please. Cover up all that gorgeous toned skin.
“Girl, you are in so much trouble,” she muttered under her breath, watching him disappear down a short hall.
She had no business noticing a prospective employer in that way. It said so right in her contract with the agency.
And she needed this job. She’d given up her apartment three months ago, and moved in with her sister while her brother-in-law was out to sea. Her intent was to save for a down payment on a condo. The timing had seemed perfect. Nikki would keep her sister company and help her to get ready for her first baby, then Nikki would move into her own place just before hubby and baby were due to arrive.
Instead Nikki had received a pink slip. And her brother-in-law had returned two weeks early. Yeah, perfect timing. She was very much the squeaky third wheel in the tiny two-bedroom house, but Amanda wouldn’t hear about Nikki moving until she had a new job.
She had good credentials, so she didn’t worry about being employable, but this was the only gig in Paradise Pines, and it was important to her that she stay close to her sister until she had the baby.
But Nikki’s reluctance to walk away was about more than that. Since the day she’d left for college, and discovered a sense of freedom she’d never known at home, she’d vowed to live life—not hide from it.
Still, she needed to protect herself. She tended to give her heart easily. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen to work with young children. They thrived on her affection and were honest in their responses. She could trust them with her soft heart.
Sheriff Oliver didn’t look as if he knew the definition of soft. He was all about neatness, control and schedules. She’d bet structure and discipline were two of his favorite words. Babies were messy, chaotic and unpredictable. Discipline and structure were important, but so was flexibility and creativity. A baby needed room to grow, to makes mistakes and messes in order to learn.
If she took this job, Nikki saw nothing but strife and loggerheads ahead, because she would fight for what was best for the baby. Maybe even harder than she needed to, because the situation hit so close to home.
When Sheriff Oliver returned, he wore blue jeans and a dark green shirt that did incredible things for his eyes. Eyes cooler now than when he’d left the room. As were his features.
He’d gathered his guard, something he wore with such ease she knew it was what he usually showed the world. They’d only stumbled into that moment of rare unease because she’d surprised him at the door.
“The agency said you’re a kindergarten teacher,” he said as he sat in the recliner adjacent to the couch she occupied. “You know this is a live-in position?”
Down to business. Good. Maybe they’d make it through this interview yet.
“Yes. I’m a victim of the recent state budget cuts.” She gave a jaunty shrug, pretending to him—and herself—that losing her job was just a blip in life’s journey. “But I was a nanny before; it helped pay my way through college.”
“You juggled kids and school? Quite a feat. Most mothers don’t even attempt it.”
“I had the kids during the day, so I took most of my classes at night. The Hendersons knew I was in school, so they respected my hours. It worked out.”
“How old were the kids in your care?”
“Two and four when I started with them.”
He glanced down at the paper in front of him, which she could see was a copy of her résumé. “And you were with them for two and half years? Why’d you leave?”
“My parents were in an accident and killed.” She could almost say it now without having her throat close up. ‘My sister needed me. She was in her senior year of high school. I took a semester off to settle my parents’ affairs, and to be there for her until she graduated.”
“It must have been tough.” A gruffness in his voice reminded her he’d lost his wife just over a year ago.
“We
