style="font-size:15px;"> Heather could think of only one good reason: it would undoubtedly help her to understand Dylan better—and his perplexing father. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he was looking so displeased with her at the moment. The stubborn set of his jaw didn’t bode well for any argument Heather might set forth.
“It’ll do the boy good to make some friends his own age,” Toby insisted.
“Oh, let her go,” Genie chided her brother before turning her attention to Heather. “Why don’t you familiarize yourself with the place while we catch up on old times? I’m sure you’d be bored with the exaggerated tales my brothers are sure to spring on my new husband in hopes of embarrassing me.”
Heather shot Toby’s sister a grateful look. She hadn’t expected anyone so privileged to make it easy for her.
“But,” she continued in a honeyed drawl, “I do expect you to accompany Toby to the festivities. If he shows up alone, he’s sure to start a stampede of unattached Southern belles in his direction that will upset Uncle Abe by taking attention away from the big political announcement he’s scheduled to make.”
Toby’s protests fell on deaf ears as she continued teasing him. Their playful banter diverted Heather’s attention from the matchmaking glint in Genie’s eyes.
She attempted a feeble rebuttal. “But don’t you think Dylan will—”
Genie cut her off with the same mulish set of her jaw as her big brother’s. The delicate-looking lady was living, breathing proof that Southern women hadn’t acquired the steel magnolias nickname for nothing. Her husband Sheikh Raf ibn Shakir preferred working with his Arabian horses to socializing with the jet set, but he promised his wife he would make an appearance at the family reunion later in the day. He was looking forward to comparing training techniques with his brother-in-law.
“Don’t worry about Dylan. He’ll be just fine. Uncle Abe’s hired a score of qualified baby-sitters for all the children in attendance. There will be everything from clowns to magicians to giant inflatable toys to keep them happily occupied during the festivities.”
Like a cool breeze, Miranda swept into the conversation with a soothing presence that had settled so many squabbles over the years. “Of course you’ll want to stay close enough by to check on Dylan if he needs you for anything, my dear. That would put my mind at ease, as well, but we would consider it a privilege to get to know you better. After all, as Dylan’s nanny, we consider you part of the family now. And as such, we would be honored to have you stay at our home. It’s just down the road a ways.
With all the political hullabaloo going on here at Crofthaven, it will provide a calmer atmosphere for us to get better acquainted with our grandson.”
There was no way of sidestepping such a gracious invitation. It made Heather feel all the more keenly her desire for a mother who went out of her way to make a stranger feel at home. Even though she knew that Miranda Danforth was simply being cordial, her words put a lump in her throat. All she had ever known of family was outrageous demands and strict compliance to what others deemed in her best interest. Miranda’s suggestion that people might actually want to get to know her as her own person was flattering in itself. Her invitation to consider herself part of the family when Heather’s own had turned so viciously against her was salve upon an open wound.
“If you’re sure I won’t be in the way,” Heather said, lowering her voice so as not to betray her feelings on the matter. “I would consider it a privilege to attend.”
A chorus of responses assured her that she would not be in the way at all. In fact, if the conspiratorial look exchanged between mother and daughter was any indication, Heather was about to find herself the center of attention whether she wanted to be or not.
Five
Toby refrained from tugging on the tie he was convinced was invented to maintain a choke hold on mankind in general. Though no longer the same little boy who so vigorously resisted being forced to attend such stuffy affairs as this particular fund- raiser in the heart of old Savannah, Toby still preferred the smell of horseflesh to the cloying perfumes wafting through the lobby of the elegant Twin Oaks Hotel. Nor had his palate ever evolved enough to appreciate the taste of caviar, which was heaped in crystal bowls strategically placed around ice sculptures. He’d still take fried chicken packed in a picnic basket any day over black fish eggs that looked better suited for bait than dinner. Not to mention how much better a beer quenched a man’s thirst compared to the dry champagne in the flute he held.
His glass froze halfway to his lips as an enchanting creature swept into the room. His heart thumped hard once, twice, three times in a rapid staccato before skidding to a complete halt. Had a pair of misty-gray eyes not sought his out at that very moment and shocked his poor heart back to working order, he might have made a complete fool of himself by spilling that fancy champagne all over himself and his brother Jacob, who was attempting to have a conversation with him.
“Then she said…”
Toby feigned an interested expression and nodded as if he was actually listening. He did not, however, take his eyes off the vision in blue who was making her way across the crowded room. Even though he’d mostly seen her wearing casual jeans and baggy T-shirts, he would have to be blind not to have noticed how pretty his son’s new nanny was. The gown she chose for tonight’s gala affair was not nearly so unassuming. Its satin fabric hugged her figure and accentuated her womanly beauty in such a striking fashion that every eye in the room was drawn toward it. Or rather to the woman wearing it.
In such a gown, Heather looked no more like a nanny than Cinderella looked like someone destined to sweep hearths for the rest of her days. If anything, Heather reminded Toby of an ice princess as she coolly made her way toward him. The way her gown so lovingly caressed her curves made him believe it had been designed expressly for her. Classic in design, the garment was a shimmer of sequins and beads that glittered with each step she took.
The hemline was deliberately angled from below one knee to midthigh on the opposite side. At five foot two inches tall, Toby had no idea Heather’s legs could look so long and shapely in a pair of strappy silver shoes designed to make a man want to hang himself with his necktie. Her legs went on forever. He tore his gaze away from the sight only long enough to glare at the other men whose gazes were transfixed on the heavenly apparition floating across the wide expanse of the lobby.
Jacob jabbed his brother in the side and asked, “Where the hell’s that one been all your life?”
“Presumably checking on Dylan,” Toby answered dryly.
He took inordinate pride in the fact that he managed a swallow of champagne without choking on it. He drained the flute and set it on a passing waiter’s tray. Not wanting his brother to see that his hands were shaking, Toby shoved them deep into his pockets and leaned against a marble column for support. He struck a pose of accidental insolence.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Jacob countered. “Not all women are like Sheila, you know.”
“Don’t tell me Genie’s twisting your arm to get you involved in one of her harebrained matchmaking schemes.” His groan conveyed more than words alone ever could.
Though the smile that crossed Jacob’s face might be considered sly, his manner was so sympathetic that it invited Toby to open up as he used to when they’d shared their deepest secrets from their bunk beds after the lights were turned off.
“I don’t believe in pushing a man
