all the objectives for which she’d been hired. His son was happy. Her cooking was really good. It wasn’t her fault that the changeover could have been more seamless if she looked like Mrs. Doubtfire. If not for his blasted fascination with her, she’d be the perfect nanny.
But he’d learned the hard way that there was no such thing as the perfect woman.
* * *
Justin would be home any minute and Emma was carrying Kyle around the kitchen on her hip because it was the time of day when he was too fussy to play independently. He just wanted to be held and nothing would distract him.
“I don’t mind telling you that I’m a little nervous about this first dinner on my own with you and your daddy.”
Kyle looked at her then rubbed his eyes, a sure sign he was nearly at the end of his rope.
“I know, sweetie. Even after a good long nap, a busy boy like you is just plain tired.” She hugged him a little closer and her heart melted a little more at the way he burrowed against her. “The thing is, my man, your dad hasn’t seen you all day and he works pretty hard. All for you, although you should never feel guilty about it. If you could hang in a little longer so he can spend some quality time with you before your bedtime, that would be pretty awesome. Okay?”
He grinned a gooey, wet grin, then babbled two syllables that sounded suspiciously like, “Okay.”
Emma glanced around the kitchen and ticked things off the list in her mind. The chicken was in the Crock-Pot, a recipe that included vegetables and potatoes all together. She didn’t want to tackle anything too time-consuming and labor-intensive in the final prep stages. With the little guy constantly on the move, it was a scenario with disaster written all over it.
The table was set for one adult and the high chair was ready for one baby. While Sylvia was there, they’d all eaten together, but without the older woman’s presence Emma was concerned that it would feel too intimate. Justin Flint wasn’t her first employer, but he was the only single dad she’d ever worked for and the dynamic was awkward. At least for her.
She found him charming and attractive and under different circumstances would probably have flirted, even though she’d sworn off men. Discovering that your fiancé was a cheating weasel tended to make a girl do that. The thing was, she wanted to flirt with Justin, but that was completely unprofessional. It was a constant strain to suppress the natural inclination.
Every time he was in the room, butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She was clumsy and tongue-tied. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she was also a big fat fraud. Even though her mission in Blackwater Lake was delicate and intensely personal, it seemed wrong not to give Justin all that information before he’d made the decision to hire her. She would do her very best for this child and hope Justin wouldn’t regret his decision. This job was vital in order to buy her time to decide how to handle her private situation.
The front door opened and closed, telling her that the employer she’d just been thinking about was here. A small twist of anticipation registered before she could shut it down.
She smiled at Kyle. “Your daddy’s home.”
“Da— Da—” He bounced in her arms and squirmed to get down.
Emma set him on the floor and instantly he got on all fours and crawled out of the kitchen as fast as he could go. She followed, not to intrude on a private father-son moment, but to make sure he made it to the safety of his dad’s strong arms. Getting sidetracked on the way by something potentially harmful was always a possibility. She wouldn’t let him out of her sight until she knew this house and all its baby hazards like the back of her hand. Assuming, of course, that she was here long enough to know it that well.
“Hey, buddy.” In the entryway Justin had set his laptop case on the table, then grabbed up his son for a hug and kiss. “How are you?”
He lifted the baby high over his head in those strong arms she’d just been thinking about. Emma knew Kyle was sturdy and solid and holding him up like that took a lot of strength. Justin made it look easy. And the obvious love he had for his son would soften a heart harder than hers.
He settled the boy on his forearm and smiled at her. “Hi.”
Some part of her brain was still functioning and she came up with a brilliant response to his greeting. “Hi.”
“Something smells good.”
“Chicken, potatoes, vegetables. All in the Crock-Pot.” She folded her arms over her chest, an instinctively protective gesture. “It’s not fancy but should taste good.”
“Best offer I’ve had all day. I’m starved.”
Emma wasn’t sure, but she thought he was looking at her mouth when he said that. And there was something compelling and intense in his eyes, but probably that was just her imagination.
“It will be ready as soon as I thicken the juice for a gravy.”
“Lead the way. I’ll bring this guy.”
Emma was more than a little self-conscious as he followed her to the kitchen. She shouldn’t be; she was just the nanny. She’d started new jobs before and knew that this wasn’t the usual new-job nerves. Doing her best to ignore the feeling, she headed for the Crock-Pot sitting beside the cooktop.
Behind her he said, “There’s only one plate on the table.”
She finished putting meat and vegetables in small casserole dishes on a warming tray then glanced at him. “I thought you’d like alone time with Kyle.”
“And are you planning to eat?”
“Of course.”
“When and where?” he persisted.
“Upstairs. In my room.”
His eyes narrowed. “Except on her day off, Sylvia had dinner with us every night.”
“I know. But...” There was no way to put this into words that he would understand. In her interview, he’d been straightforward about the fact that he wasn’t looking for anything other than a nanny. To adequately explain why she wouldn’t eat dinner with him, she would have to confess her attraction. Other than throwing herself at him, that was probably the fastest way to lose this job.
Justin was staring at her. “It just feels wrong to me for you to segregate yourself. Too Upstairs, Downstairs.” He shook his head. “Or like you’re an orphan in a Charles Dickens book.”
That was ironic. Not only wasn’t she an orphan, she had more family than she knew what to do with.
He settled Kyle in the high chair then met her gaze. “Emma, I’d like you to have dinner with us.”
“Is that an order?”
“Of course not. It just feels...” He shrugged, as if he didn’t know how to put it into words either. “I’m trying to maintain as much family atmosphere as possible for Kyle.”
“I understand.” And she did. “Thank you.”
“I’ll set another place at the table,” he said.
“Okay.
