Not to mention the damage it did to his soul.
His daughter flung the mushy beige food, a glob landing on his shirt. He didn’t bother to wipe it and thought of his former colleagues in the Secret Service seeing him now. A far cry from the man who lived dangerously, moment to moment protecting the first family. He was now Mr. Mom and a complete failure at it, he thought. There should be a school or something for dads who had to be moms, too.
Four days without a nanny and he was seeing exactly how useless he was at being a reliable father. He didn’t think he’d miss the skills of a woman more than he did right now. His sister had helped him a few times after Diana’s death, but she had her own family. His parents were retired, leaving him the family business and this monstrous house while they traveled the world. It was only right, but the shrimping business was taking off like a runaway train and he hadn’t been able to operate it from this house since before his daughter was born.
He looked at his baby. He’d had a nanny, but she’d refused to be a live-in. Carolina needed consistency, someone there for her when he couldn’t be. Someone who would be tender and loving. And almost a mother. What his baby didn’t need was a parade of strangers marching through her life now. She was so young and had a tendency to scream bloody murder when a stranger got close. Probably because all she ever saw was him and the nanny. The maid, well she was from a service, and all business. And rarely the same one each time.
The last nanny said Carolina was difficult. And when he’d found the woman lounging around, watching soap operas while his daughter cried in a playpen, Bryce had fired her. The next three nannies hadn’t been any better.
Neglecting his child was not an option, nor was putting her in a day-care center where she’d get sick and there were too many children. He wanted his daughter to have attention while he was at work. Lord, he didn’t think finding child care would be so difficult. Luckily, someone had recommended Wife Incorporated to him. He’d spoken with the owner, Katherine Davenport, and though she sounded nice, what mattered was that she’d come to his rescue. She was sending a nanny out today. Any minute.
Bryce prayed it was someone with a tender heart.
And he hoped she arrived soon.
Carolina shrieked, her lip curling down, and he left his chair to walk over to a cookie jar. He gave her one cookie. Instantly she quieted.
He would deal with the chocolate mess later.
Bribery, he thought as he dropped back into the chair, was acceptable in grave situations.
Bryce started to clean up the mess, bending down on his hands and knees to get the food spilled on the floor. He chased a piece of cereal and when Carolina burst into tears, he flinched and bumped his head on the table. He stood, staring down at her as she reared back in that squirm he’d come to know meant she was done and wanted down now. Then she started kicking and crying. Bryce rushed to finish cleaning up the mess, then handed his daughter a carrot to grind against her cutting teeth.
“Five minutes, princess,” he pleaded. “I just need five minutes.”
She threw the carrot and cried harder.
Then the doorbell rang.
Taking Carolina out of the high chair, Bryce struggled to keep a safe hold on her when she squirmed, refusing to be still. Since she was already climbing out of her crib and crawling away with amazing speed, he didn’t dare put her on the floor yet. Besides, he could tell how clean it wasn’t anyway.
“We have company, sweetie.” Carolina looked up at him, chocolate cookie smeared over her face and clothes. She worked the mush in her hand as if it would hurry it into her mouth. Then she stilled and offered him a bite, missing his mouth and jamming the soggy cookie somewhere near his ear.
“Well,” he said as he walked toward the door. “Guess it’s good that she sees us at our worst, huh?”
His hand on the door, Bryce tipped his head back. Please Lord, let it be some dowdy grandma type who can really help us.
He opened the door.
Her back to him, at first all he saw was a nicely rounded behind tucked inside jeans, a white blouse and a brown leather vest. And chestnut-brown hair pulled up in a ponytail.
Not exactly grandma, he thought.
The woman turned and her features slackened.
Bryce thought his knees would fold beneath him any second.
Staring him in the face was the one woman, the only woman, who’d rocked his world and set it on fire.
“I can’t believe this,” he said more to himself.
“Well, hey there, secret agent man,” she replied softly and the words held the echo of the one and only time they’d been together.
Bryce’s body seized with the memory. Naked and wild. The feel and taste of her rocketing through his mind. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m from Wife Incorporated.” Her brows knitted slightly. “Weren’t you expecting me?”
“I was expecting someone, certainly not you.”
“Life is full of little surprises, huh?”
Surprise, hell. This was a “knock him into next week” shock, he thought, holding her gaze and seeing much more in her cognac-brown eyes, the way they flared when he was inside her, the sly look she got when she knew she was giving him pleasure.
And Ciara saw it, in his expression, the memory of that one night. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her cool and not remember the only time she’d seen this man…when he had her up against a hotel wall and was devouring her. Greedy and primal. The instant their eyes met, her body had jumped to life. Now she felt her breathing increase, heat twisting through her. He was the only man who could do that to her. With just a look of those ice-blue eyes.
And now she was suppose to live in his house?
Her gaze swept him. He looked ragged, and far from the man she saw last. Baby food clung to his hair and T-shirt, and there was a dark brown streak hastily wiped off his cheek near his ear. His jeans were splattered with assorted bits of soggy cereal and spilled coffee. It was almost comical, except in his arms a dark haired infant was twisting like a slippery fish trying to get back in the water, and crying to be let down.
Ciara instantly dropped her bag and stepped closer. “Hey,” she said softly, tugging on the baby’s dress, which was in as bad a shape as her father’s shirt and slacks. “Hey there.”
The baby came upright sharply and stared at her with wide blue eyes. “Hello there, sweetie,” she said, her gaze on the child as she asked, “Are you going to introduce me, Mr. Bryce Ashland?”
Bryce blinked and followed her gaze to Carolina, who was still crying, but looking curious. His gaze shot back to her. “Maybe when I know your name.”
Smiling, she held out her hand. “Ciara. Ciara Stuart.”
Bryce grasped her hand and the pulse of her blood hummed through him. Oh God, he thought. It hasn’t changed one bit. One touch and his entire being jumped to life, his nerves jingling and leaving his heart thumping like a sledgehammer in his chest. Everything
