seemed bigger, broader, and stronger now that he was blocking her path and they were alone in the house save the boys. He seemed to shrink the space, narrowing it down to the two of them—so much so that she could almost forget her inquisitive son.
“Is that the room Graham usually occupies when he visits?”
“He doesn’t visit.”
Surprised, she blinked. “Ever?”
“No.”
“You see him at his mother’s?”
“Ms. Aronson, my personal life is none of your business,” he all but snapped. “I’ll leave you to get settled. Feed yourself and the boys whenever you want.”
She had a dozen more questions, the most urgent being where his bedroom was located, but he was already testy, and she was afraid he’d misconstrue her question as interest. “Could we get baby gates for the top and bottom of the stairs?”
“Tell Sarah in the morning. She’ll deal with it. Good night.”
He pivoted abruptly and left.
Anna wasn’t disappointed, but she did feel strangely adrift in this unfamiliar place with no friends or allies.
She said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t need either.
The trio already occupying his kitchen brought Pierce to a dead halt in the doorway. Obviously his eight-thousand-square-foot house wasn’t big enough for him to avoid his unwanted guests.
Anna glanced up from the banana she was slicing. The last banana. The one he’d planned to eat with his breakfast.
“Good morning, Mr. Hollister.”
It had been a good morning. Until now. He’d had a long, head-clearing run then a shower. All he needed before he settled in for his first full day’s work since the kid’s arrival was food, but the slimy, messy faces of the boys in their high chairs killed his appetite. “You’re up early.”
“Your son is an early riser.”
“Kat’s son.”
Anna tilted her head, questions filling her eyes. Her reddish-brown hair slid across her shoulders. It was only then that he noticed the strands were slightly disheveled—as if she’d crawled from bed in a hurry and hadn’t had time to brush them. That led him to detecting her flushed cheeks and sleepy eyes—half-closed pale blue eyes currently narrowed on him.
“Kat is his mother?”
“Yes.”
“I fixed the boys breakfast. I hope you don’t mind that we didn’t wait for you.” She divided the small pieces of fruit between the messy trays, noisily kissed the top of each boy’s head, making them laugh, then crossed to the sink to wash her hands.
Her mid-thigh-length khaki skirt and sleeveless top displayed her slender figure and long, pale limbs in a Catholic schoolgirl kind of way. He found her I’ve-just-been-woken appearance and the faint scent of honeysuckles she left in her wake disturbingly appealing. Warning bells rang in his conscience.
“Help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.”
“About that …” She faced him, pinching her plump bottom lip between straight, white teeth as she dried her hands. “I took inventory of your refrigerator and pantry. There’s really not a lot here.”
“The cabinets are well-stocked.”
“I meant for the boys. Smoked salmon, spicy gourmet sandwich meats, salad and Portobello mushrooms may work for you, but not for them. Toddlers need easier to digest foods. What does Graham like to eat?”
He caught himself watching her pink mouth move and jerked his gaze to hers. “I don’t know.”
“Does he have any food allergies?”
Irritation replaced unwelcome interest. “I don’t know that either. The housekeeper takes care of the shopping. Make a list and give it to her when she comes in later today.”
Anna’s puzzled expression returned, creasing her freckled brow. “I’ll do that. If you’re going to join us each morning—and I’m sure Graham would love that—I can prepare enough breakfast for you, too.”
Eat with the dirty duo? No thanks. Each child had food smeared on every reachable surface. Even their hair bore traces of whatever gooey substance she’d fed them. The need to escape surged through him, but his growling stomach insisted he tough out this encounter long enough to feed himself.
“I’ll fix my own breakfast. Today and every day.” And the sooner he did so the sooner he could leave this unappetizing sight behind.
He yanked open the refrigerator and gathered the makings of a sandwich which he hastily slapped together—trying all the while to block out the annoyingly cheerful voice of the woman behind him yakking to the boys.
“Where do you keep Graham’s toys?”
Anna’s question made him pause mid-chipotle-mayo swipe. “Ask Sarah. She may have bought a few last week.”
Silence broken only by the boys’ babbling and banging on their trays filled the room.
“Graham is here…legally? Isn’t he?” Fear tinged her voice.
Pierce rested his fists on the counter. The last thing he needed was a hysterical woman calling the authorities. Not that he had anything to hide but officials poking around would only slow him down.
Still, Anna believing he’d kidnapped the kid when he’d had to force Kat to list his name on the child’s birth certificate just in case of emergencies like this one struck him as ironic. Not that he’d ever expected to be called into duty. Kat had assured him she had foolproof child care set up. She’d been wrong. But no child carrying his blood would end up in the system.
“I am the boy’s legal guardian until his mother returns. Sarah has the documentation if you must see it.”
“What happened to his previous sitter?”
“She dumped the kid on child services when his mother was…detained.”
He’d deliberately neglected to reveal Kat’s identity to keep those who might be more interested in Kat’s fame than her son’s welfare from applying for the job. There had been too many stories in the news lately of employees selling their celebrity employer’s secrets to make a quick buck. His and Kat’s relationship—however strained it might be—was private. News of it leaking wouldn’t help his company’s image, which in turn might undermine his goals for Hollister Ltd.
Concern puckered Anna’s brow. “Poor Graham. Could we swing by his mom’s place and pick up a few things?”
“Kat lives in Atlanta.”
“Oh. Too far then. Would you mind if we borrowed some things from the kitchen?”
His irritation reached boiling point. Pierce slapped the top on his sandwich. “I don’t
