His New Nanny Read online

  They were returning to the house when they met George, who carried a green-stained machete and whose gaze swept over Amanda. Melanie immediately drew closer to Amanda, her little body tense.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Little Bit and the new nanny.” He swung the machete up over his shoulder. “Getting settled in all right?”

  “Fine, thank you,” Amanda replied, and placed a hand on Melanie’s shoulder.

  He wiped a hand across his broad brow, where sweat trickled down. “You need somebody to show you around town, Ms. Nanny, you just call on me. Erica, she liked the places I took her.”

  A deep chill swept through Amanda. “Thank you, George, but I doubt I’ll have time to do much sightseeing. Come on, Melanie, we’d better get inside and get cleaned up for dinner.”

  As they walked away, Amanda could still feel George’s gaze burning into her back as his words whirled around in her head. Did George have something to do with Erica’s murder? How dangerous was the handyman?

  Sawyer didn’t make it home in time for supper. She and Melanie ate in the kitchen and after dinner played another board game.

  It was almost eight when Sawyer walked into Melanie’s bedroom where the two were stretched out on the floor. Amanda quickly got to her feet as Melanie ran to her father and threw her arms around his waist.

  If Amanda had any concerns about Sawyer being abusive with his daughter, they were dispelled as she saw the fierce love that lit Melanie’s eyes as she hugged her daddy.

  Amanda tried to ignore the faint tension that curled in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him. He looked unbelievably handsome in black slacks and a white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to expose muscled forearms dusted with dark hair.

  The last thing she needed was to develop a crush on her employer, especially a man who had a dark cloud of suspicion hanging over his head. Besides, even if he was innocent, he was a wealthy man who certainly wouldn’t look for a wife among the hired help.

  But she couldn’t ignore the way her heartbeat accelerated and a slight breathlessness swept over her whenever he looked at her.

  “And now it’s bath time for you, my little one. While you take your bath and get ready for bed I’m going to see if Helen left me something to eat, then I’ll be back up to tuck you in.” He straightened and looked at Amanda. “And after I tuck in Melanie, I’d like to see you in my office.”

  It was almost nine when Sawyer ushered Amanda into his office and gestured her toward the chair in front of the desk. He’d changed from his slacks and dress shirt into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that hugged his muscled chest.

  “You don’t look any the worse for wear after today,” he observed as he sat behind the desk.

  “We got along just fine,” she assured him. “She’s very bright.”

  His eyes gleamed with pride. “She is, but equally important is the fact that she has a loving heart.” The light in his eyes was doused as quickly as it had shone. “I’m assuming you didn’t get her to talk.”

  “I didn’t try to get her to talk,” Amanda replied. “Melanie has no reason to trust me right now, and the last thing I want to do is push her to do something she obviously doesn’t want to do.”

  He leaned forward and for a moment his eyes shimmered with such torment she felt it deep inside of her. “Then why doesn’t she trust me? She must know I’d never hurt her, that I love her more than anyone else on the face of the earth.”

  The momentary vulnerability on his features ripped through her, and she wanted to grab his hand, stroke his brow, give him a comforting touch. But she didn’t. Instead she leaned back in the chair to distance herself from the impulse.

  “I can’t answer that, Sawyer. Elective muteness is difficult to understand and we can’t know what’s going on inside Melanie’s head.” She frowned, realizing she sounded clinical and detached. “She’ll talk, Sawyer. When she’s ready she’ll talk, but Melanie is the one in control of that, and we just have to be patient.”

  The moment of vulnerability disappeared as his eyes glittered once again. “Patience has never been one of my strengths. I want what I want when I want it.” The strength of the statement coupled with his gaze, which seemed to linger on her lips, caused her breath to catch in her chest.

  “Unfortunately, you aren’t in control of this situation,” she replied, hoping she didn’t reveal how she felt. She straightened in the chair. “I read the news reports about your wife’s murder.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but she felt the need to interject his wife into the conversation, needed to remind herself that he was a grieving man rather than an attractive, single hunk ready for a relationship.

  Before he could reply, a scream pierced the air.

  Chapter Three

  Sawyer shot out of the chair and raced from the room. He knew that scream. Oh, God, but he knew that scream. Melanie! He took the stairs two at a time, vaguely aware of Amanda hurrying behind him.

  His heart crashed against his rib cage as the scream came again. The sound of sheer terror ripped through him. The minute he entered the dark bedroom, he saw his daughter silhouetted in front of the window.

  As he grabbed Melanie and pulled her tight against his chest, Amanda flipped on the overhead light. The sleep glaze in Melanie’s eyes fell away and she uttered a single small sob as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  When he realized it must have been the darkness of the room and a bad dream that had tumbled her out of bed and not some physical threat, he relaxed a bit.

  “Shh, it’s all right,” he soothed as he stroked down her trembling back. “It was just a dream, just a very bad dream.” Although he said the words, he knew it was a very bad memory that had caused his daughter to scream.

  While he held and tried to calm her, Amanda took the night-light out of the wall outlet. He was almost relieved that they had left the office. As he’d sat talking to her, all he’d been able to think about was whether her lips tasted as soft and yielding as they looked, or if her sweet-smelling hair felt like silk.

  It was a dangerous train of thought. The last thing he wanted or needed was the complication of a woman in his life. His life was complicated enough as it was. No matter how attractive he found Amanda Rockport, he’d do well to remember he had more important things on his plate…like staying out of prison.

  Within minutes Melanie had calmed and been tucked back into bed. Sawyer got a new lightbulb out of her dresser drawer and changed the burnt out one in the night-light.

  He remained in the doorway until he was certain Melanie was once again asleep, then he stepped into the hallway where Amanda awaited him.

  “The bulb in the night-light needs to be changed once a week, no matter what,” he said. In the close confines of the hallway her scent eddied in the air, the bewitching scent of night-blooming jasmine.

  “Will she be all right?” she asked, her concern evident in her voice.

  “She should be fine for the rest of the night. She has occasional nightmares. That’s why the nightlight is so important.” He swept a hand through his hair as a deep sorrow cut through him.

  Would Melanie forever be scarred by that night? He should have made different choices. Guilt and recriminations ripped him up inside. He should have done things differently, then none of this would have happened.

  She took a step toward him. “Children are amazingly resilient, Sawyer.” She placed a hand on his forearm, her long slender fingers warm on his arm. “She’ll be fine in time.”

  There was a softness, an innocence about her that he wanted to fall into. Somehow in the past couple of years he’d forgotten about kindness and innocence and the inviting softness that some women possessed.

  He stepped back from her, and her hand fell to her side. “The problem is I don’t know how much time I have.” He motioned her toward the stairs and away from Melanie’s bedroom. “I don’t know when there’s going to be a knock on the door and Lucas Jamison will be standing there with an arrest warrant.”r />
  They started down the stairs. “Lucas Jamison? Is he a policeman?” she asked.

  “He’s a good friend, but he’s also the sheriff.” They reached the bottom of the stairs. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked. He wasn’t ready to call it a night, wasn’t prepared for the nightmares his own sleep would probably bring.

  “A cup of coffee would be nice,” she agreed, and followed him into the kitchen. She sat at the table while he put on half a pot to brew.

  When the coffee began to gurgle into the glass carafe he turned back to face her. “What are you doing here?”

  A tiny frown danced across her forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean why would you leave your home to travel to a small bayou in Louisiana to take a nanny job and work for a man you’d never met? I’ve seen your credentials. You could have a job anywhere.”

  “I had a job at a local middle school in Kansas City, but I decided I needed a change.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his. He had the feeling that there was more to her story than she was telling.

  Even though she was Johnny’s younger sister, before hiring her he had done a thorough background check. He knew she had no criminal record, had never been married and, until a couple of months ago, had worked as a counselor at the middle school she’d mentioned.

  Her eyes shone as she finally met his gaze. “I’m here to help Melanie, that’s all that’s important to me. And that should be all that’s important to you.”

  Secrets. Everyone seemed to have a couple. He poured them each a cup of coffee, then joined her at the table. “Melanie likes you,” he said.

  “I like her.” She took a sip of her coffee and studied him above the rim of the cup. She placed her cup back on the table and wrapped her fingers around it. “She seems rather tentative, as if she’s anticipating me yelling at her…or hitting her.”

  Her words created a small ball of rage inside him. He tamped it down and took a drink, then replied, “My wife was a woman who didn’t particularly enjoy motherhood. She was often impatient with Melanie.” He took another drink to stop himself from speaking ill of the dead.

  “It’s obvious that Melanie adores you.”

  “I think that’s one of the reasons I’m not in jail at the moment.”

  She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “Lucas is aware that Melanie saw something the night of Erica’s murder. I think he figures if Melanie saw me kill her mother that night then Melanie would have nothing to do with me now.”

  “But, that’s not necessarily true,” she replied. Once again her eyes darkened. “Children often rewrite reality to make it more comfortable, to make it feel safe. Children also have the capacity to create a fantasy and make it real to them.”

  “Do me a favor, don’t mention those kinds of things to Lucas. I have enough problems as it is.”

  “I can’t imagine any reason I’d have to speak to the sheriff.” She frowned. “But I’d like to ask you about George.”

  “What about him?”

  Her frown deepened, and her fingers laced and unlaced in her lap. “He mentioned today that if I wanted to go sightseeing he’d be happy to take me the same places he used to take your wife.”

  Sawyer sighed, leaned back and raked a hand through his hair. “George is a lot of talk. I know he told Erica about several clubs in town at one time. If he’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll talk to him.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I don’t want any trouble,” she said hurriedly. “If there’s nothing else? I’m more tired than I realized.”

  He stood and shook his head. “I’d like a check-in from you each evening after Melanie is in bed. I want to know everything that’s going on with her, what happens in the hours while I’m at work.”

  “Of course,” she said, standing. She carried her cup to the sink and rinsed it, then started for the doorway.

  “I assumed you read the reports about my wife’s murder? Then you must know that she was pregnant at the time of her death.” She stopped walking and nodded, her blue eyes shadowing with a touch of sympathy.

  “I read the newspaper accounts this morning,” she said.

  “What the newspaper accounts couldn’t tell you was that the baby wasn’t mine.” Her eyes flared slightly with surprise, but he didn’t give her a chance to reply. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Amanda.”

  He released a deep sigh as she disappeared out of the kitchen. He took his cup to the sink and added it to hers, then left the kitchen and returned to his study.

  Once there he poured himself a glass of Scotch, then walked over to the wall that held all the pictures. His gaze focused on the picture of Erica. She’d been insanely beautiful and selfish and unfaithful.

  He wasn’t sure when the affairs had begun. For all he knew she’d started seeing other men soon after their wedding. It didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered was that Melanie had already lost one parent. He didn’t want her to lose him.

  His gaze moved to the picture of the six men. The Brotherhood, that’s what they’d called themselves when they’d arrived at Riverhead College, the prestigious private school in southern Missouri. They had been five young men, best friends, from the wealthiest families in Conja Creek.

  In those four years of school, they’d shared kegs of beer, lots of laughs and a solemn promise to have each other’s backs.

  He stared at the face of Lucas Jamison, Sheriff of Conja Creek. Good friend, fellow member of the Brotherhood, but despite the promise they had all made to each other so many years ago, how long would Lucas be able to overlook the damning circumstantial evidence and keep him out of jail?

  THE BABY WASN’T HIS.

  The words played and replayed in her mind the next day as she and Melanie set up for a tea party in Melanie’s room. As Melanie arranged her stuffed teddy bears into chairs at the miniature table, Amanda unboxed a tiny tea set that probably cost as much as a month’s rent on her apartment back home.

  The baby wasn’t his. That meant that before her death Erica had been having an affair. That knowledge certainly added a nail into the coffin of suspicion where Sawyer was concerned. Everyone probably believed that he’d found out about the baby and killed her in some kind of jealous rage.

  But despite the evidence, there was a big part of Amanda that wanted to believe, needed to believe, that he was innocent.

  “I see you have Ms. Panda Bear at the head of the table,” she now said to Melanie. The black and white bear was slightly bedraggled. “She must be a favorite of yours.”

  Melanie nodded and smiled at the bear as if it were a beloved sibling, then she gestured Amanda into one of the two empty chairs.

  The little teapot was already filled with apple juice, and Helen had promised fresh-baked cookies in fifteen minutes. As Amanda sat at the table, Melanie walked over to the massive wooden toy chest and nearly disappeared into it as she rummaged around. When she stood back up she held two feather boas in her hands.

  She walked over to Amanda and placed the bright-pink one around her shoulders, then slung the purple one over her own and giggled with delight.

  “I see we’re dressing for tea.”

  The voice came from the doorway, and Amanda whirled around to see Lillian standing there. “Lillian!” she exclaimed in surprise, wondering how the woman had not only gotten inside the house but had climbed the stairs without being heard.

  “Looks like fun,” she said.

  “Would you like to join us?” Amanda asked.

  Lillian smiled. “No, but I have a message to deliver from Helen.” She looked at Melanie. “Helen says if you come to the kitchen the cookies are ready and there’s a bowl of frosting that needs to be licked.”

  Melanie’s face lit up as she looked at Amanda. Amanda stood and pulled the boa from around her neck. “Go on,” she said. “We can have our tea party later.”

  The words were scarcely out of her mouth before Melanie disappeared from the
room. Lillian laughed. “She’s a doll, isn’t she?”

  “She seems very sweet and easy to get along with,” Amanda agreed.

  “But troubled.” Lillian’s smooth smile fell away, and she moved to the window to stare outside. “I wish we all knew what she’d seen the night that Erica was murdered. I wish we could take that vision out of her head and see the guilty person behind bars.”

  “Do you know who Erica was having an affair with?” Amanda asked.

  Lillian turned from the window to look at her. “So…Sawyer told you she was unfaithful?”

  “He told me that the baby she was carrying at the time of her death wasn’t his.”

  Moving away from the window, Lillian sighed. “Erica was my best friend, but she loved keeping secrets. She was beautiful and full of life, but she was also the most selfish, indulgent, amoral woman I’ve ever known.” Tears filled her eyes. “She could also be generous and fun loving, and I miss her so much it’s terrible.” She blinked back the tears and drew a deep breath. “And no, I have no idea who Erica might have been sleeping with at the time of her death.”

  “Isn’t it possible that it was her lover who killed her?” Amanda asked. She didn’t want to upset Lillian, but it was possible she might unconsciously hold a clue.

  “I’m sure Lucas is looking at that angle,” Lillian replied. “So, less than forty-eight hours in the house and Sawyer has already convinced you of his innocence?”

  “You don’t think he’s innocent?” Amanda asked.

  “I adore Sawyer. I think he’s a good man, but even a good man could have been pushed to extremes by Erica.” She laughed drily. “There were times I wanted to throttle her.” Her laugh strangled in her throat as tears once again filled her eyes.

  Amanda wasn’t sure how to respond and thankfully at that time Melanie reappeared in the doorway, a platter of freshly baked cookies in her hands.

  “Ah, I see the tea party is about to begin,” Lillian said. “You two go ahead. I just stopped by to see how you were getting along.”