A Nanny in the Family Page 7

  He honestly hadn’t known what she was talking about. Hadn’t he just addressed a question to her? “Well, of course you’re here,” he’d said, more mystified than ever.

  “But does it really mean anything to you, Pierce? Or would any other woman do just as well? Nanny Nicole, for instance? Am I just a convenient body when you’re in the mood for a little healthy sex—not that you have been for weeks now!”

  “Don’t talk like that,” he’d muttered, glancing at Tom. “There are little ears around.”

  She’d slapped her fork down and her eyes had sparkled with tears. “That’s precisely what I mean! Ever since that little...boy moved in, you’ve scarcely given me the time of day.”

  He hadn’t liked the way she’d made “boy” sound like a three-letter expletive. But more than that, he hadn’t liked the quiver in her voice. “Don’t start crying,” he’d begged, wondering how in hell a simple question like “Is everything okay?” could turn so suddenly into an emotional blood-letting. “Honestly, Louise, if that’s the impression I’ve given you, I’m sorry.”

  He’d shrugged helplessly. “I thought you understood the way things have to be now. I can’t be the swinging bachelor I was when we met. I’ve got responsibilities and they’re going to be around for a long time.”

  “I know.”

  “If it’s all too much for you and you’d be happier seeing other men—”

  “No,” she’d whimpered, her eyes shining like jewels. He’d always heard that women were supposed to look a mess when they cried; that their noses turned red and the whites of their eyes pink. But Louise looked beautiful. “Oh, Pierce, that’s not what I want at all.”

  “Well, good,” he’d said, keeping an eye on Tom who’d decided that stuffing French fries into his milk shake was a better idea than eating them. “As long as you understand that I can’t turn my back on Tom.”

  “Sweets,” she’d murmured, dabbing at her eyes, “I’d never ask you to do that. I think it’s wonderful, the way you’ve taken over for his father. Thomas is an adorable child. As for that unfortunate remark I made about Nicole—”

  He didn’t want to talk about Nicole, not to Louise. “Forget it,” he said. “I have.”

  “That’s good. But, sweetness, Thomas does need a firm hand and I frankly believe Nicole is too permissive. It’s not good for a boy to be mollycoddled, Pierce.”

  “I guess not.”

  Their waitress had come by then to clear away their plates. “How would you like ice cream for dessert, hon?” she’d asked Tom.

  “Oh, boy!” he’d beamed, then just to make sure she’d follow through on the offer, added without being prompted, “Please.”

  “It’s not every day I take him out for treats,” Pierce had said defensively, seeing Louise about to object.

  She’d pursed her lips in a tight smile. “Whatever you think is best, Pierce.”

  “It’ll give him something to do while we have coffee.”

  “Of course. Make mine strong,” she’d added to the waitress.

  Pierce had slung his arm around the back of her chair and squeezed her shoulder. “If the weather stays fine, we should do something special this weekend. Got any ideas?”

  Without meaning to, he’d managed to put his foot in things again. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten!” she wailed. “Oh, Pierce, how could you, after all the trouble I’ve gone to?”

  “For what?” he’d said, firmly believing that a man gained nothing from trying to lie his way out of trouble.

  “Why, your housewarming party next Saturday, of course!”

  “I had forgotten. I’m sorry. But couldn’t it wait?” He’d glanced meaningfully at Tom. “I mean, it hasn’t been so long since—”

  “Life goes on, sweetie, and in Thomas’ case, the sooner, the better, wouldn’t you say?”

  He’d shrugged. “Maybe. I guess so.”

  “It isn’t as if you don’t have hired help. Between Nicole and Janet, surely one small, sweet boy isn’t going to present a problem?”

  That wasn’t exactly what Pierce had meant, but the small sweet boy in question chose that moment to offer a diversion all of his own making. Wielding his spoon with deadly aim, he landed a blob of melted chocolate ice cream smack in the middle of Louise’s white linen skirt.

  After that, Pierce hadn’t thought the evening could get any worse.

  He’d been wrong. They’d been only halfway home when he’d had to stop the car while Tom threw up at the side of the road. Louise hadn’t said a word. Instead she’d given Pierce a lesson on how silence could indeed speak louder than words.

  When they’d finally arrived back at the house, he’d invited her in for a nightcap. “No thanks,” she’d said shortly. “Vomity children make me nervous.”

  Nervous? That little incident? Hell, it was nothing to some of the sights he’d seen at sea! But the tension sparking between them as she’d thanked him for “such a lovely day” was downright intimidating. Small wonder that, by the time she’d hopped into her car and sped off, he was ready to kick back with a good stiff drink.

  Toweling off his hair, he strolled to the window and looked out. The night was clear and warm, with a faint breeze coming in over the water. Directly below, the pool shone translucently in the otherwise dark garden, too inviting to resist.

  Perhaps a few laps would iron out the kinks to which his spine was now so prone. The fresh air might sweeten his mood. And the Scotch he intended to consume right after might give him just enough of a buzz that he’d see the future as somewhat rosier than it now appeared.

  Within five minutes he stood poised on the diving board. Taking a deep, relaxing breath, he knifed into the water. It closed around him, smooth and warm as a woman’s arms, but so much less complicated or demanding.

  Twenty-five laps later, he felt like a new man. Rolling over, he began a lazy back crawl. The ocean whispered below the cliff. Overhead, Ursa Minor shone clear and bright.

  In a perfect world, he’d have been in command of his own ship, somewhere in the Persian Gulf most likely. Jim and Arlene would be alive and Tom would have both his parents, as well as an uncle who sent him exotic gifts from foreign parts. And women would be something to look forward to at the next port of call.

  Folding his arms behind his head and floating lazily, Pierce stared up at the stars and decided that if what he had instead didn’t quite measure up to the same thing, it was still pretty damned nice. Peaceful, calm, orderly, with Tom asleep in his bed and all more or less right with the world.

  Except for the dog howling in a neighbor’s house....

  Except for the fact that the nearest house lay half a block away and what he heard was closer. Much closer.

  Nicole had waited until Pierce had put Tommy to bed and the house had sunk back into silence before she’d turned on the lights in her own suite and gone about making an early night of it herself. The day had been exhausting on a number of levels.

  Then, just as she emerged from a long, luxurious bath, she heard a sound. Her first thought was that Tommy was having another nightmare. Snatching up her bathrobe and pulling it on, she stole to his door. But when she peeked in, she found him spread-eagled on his bed and snoring.

  She was backing away when the noise came again, a lonely, pathetic wail, followed by a high-pitched little bark. Spinning around, Nicole stared down the hall, half expecting to see the puppy bounding up the stairs in search of her.

  Although a crack of light showed underneath, the door to Pierce’s room remained closed. Paralyzed, she waited for him to wrench it open and demand an explanation. When a full thirty seconds passed with nothing but the magnified sound of her heart disturbing the silence, she relaxed and began a stealthy return to her own suite.

  Before she was even halfway home, the barking began again, more frenzied and infinitely louder than before. Far from being so exhausted that it wanted nothing but to be left to sleep in peace, the puppy seemed determined to arouse the entire househol
d. Scuttling past Pierce’s door, Nicole fled down the stairs and along the passage to the kitchen.

  The puppy’s box lay tipped over on its side with the old towel which Janet had provided for temporary bedding trailing across the floor. But of the dog itself there was no sign. The only living creature in the kitchen was a pseudo-nanny whose rash actions of the previous afternoon assumed an even more foolhardy aspect by the dim gloom of night.

  Puppies chewed things. Until they were house-broken, they left little deposits anyplace the urge took them. And even something as small as a ten-week-old retriever could push open the swing door that led from the kitchen to the main body of the house.

  Thinking of the havoc that could be wreaked by tiny teeth on the fine mahogany furniture in the living room, of the souvenirs that might be left behind on the rare Aubusson carpet in the dining room, not to mention the devastation that could be visited on Pierce’s beloved library, made Nicole’s blood run cold.

  “Honey?” she whispered, pushing open the swinging door and peering down the corridor in the desperate hope that she’d find the errant creature before someone else did. “Peaches? Come out, come out, wherever you are, you little monkey. You’re going to get me keelhauled if our high and mighty Commander is disturbed.”

  “We don’t do that anymore, Nicole,” a voice from the other side of the room informed her. “We have other ways of meting out punishment.”

  Swallowing a tiny shriek, Nicole whirled around. Pierce stood framed in the doorway leading out to the deck beyond the kitchen, the fine glaze of water on his skin and the towel tucked around his waist attesting to where he’d come from. For once, however, his splendid physique failed to capture her attention.

  “Oh, Honey-Peaches!” she wheezed, rushing toward the squirming bundle he held in the crook of one arm. “There you are!”

  Pierce lofted the puppy out of reach and fended Nicole off with his other hand. “Honey-Peaches?” he inquired, with malicious amusement. “A second ago, I was your ‘high and mighty Commander.’ What’s brought about such a fond, not to mention excessive, change of heart?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, consigning good manners to perdition along with self-preservation and common sense. “I was referring to the dog.”

  “Dog?” he echoed, batting his water-soaked eyelashes in a parody of bewilderment. “You must be mistaken. We don’t own a dog.”

  “We do now,” she said boldly, since the evidence was irrefutable. “I bought her this afternoon at the market in the park. She’s a Golden Retriever cross and—”

  “She’s about as much Golden Retriever as I am French poodle,” he said. “As for the name—it’s only slightly less ridiculous than your assuming I wouldn’t notice there was another mouth to feed.” He regarded her severely. “You don’t have a very high opinion of my intelligence, do you, Nicole?”

  “No,” she began, then rapidly amended the statement before she alienated him completely. “I mean, no, that’s not true. I have tremendous respect for you, in every possible way, and I’m very sorry if it seems that I’ve taken advantage of you by bringing a dog into your home without your express permission.”

  “Isn’t that exactly what you’ve done?”

  She tilted one shoulder apologetically. “Yes. But I didn’t feel I had any other choice.”

  “Really? You rescued the dog from a swift and unhappy end, did you?”

  “Yes,” she said again, taking comfort from the fact that, whether or not he realized it, he was caressing Honey-Peaches’ ears gently. “The man who owned her said he was going to have her put down if he didn’t find a home for her today. And you did say, Pierce, that you thought a dog might be a good idea for Tommy.”

  “Remind me not to ruminate out loud in front of you again,” he replied dryly. “It’s a hazardous undertaking.”

  “Yes,” she said demurely. “May we keep her, Pierce?”

  He expelled a long-suffering sigh and with his free hand hitched the towel more securely around his hips. The gesture, along with the amount of tanned flesh on view, made her wonder if he was wearing anything else.

  He spoke again, the sound of his voice causing her to start guiltily. “I was just about to unwind with a quiet drink by the pool. I figured I’d earned it, considering the afternoon I’ve just put in.”

  “You didn’t have a good time with Tommy?”

  “It was hell. Oh, he was okay, I suppose, but the rest of it...let’s just say I didn’t need this mutt baying at the top of its lungs and disturbing the peace to top things off. This isn’t a good time to appeal to my better nature, Nicole.”

  If you even have one, she thought, as Honey-Peaches whimpered and burrowed deeper into the protection of Pierce’s hold. How could anyone remain impervious to such a helpless little creature?

  “Well, if that’s asking too much, at least will you agree to keep her here until I can make other arrangements?”

  “I didn’t say it was too much. I said this wasn’t the best time to arrive at any decisions, nor the best place, either, come to that.” He glanced meaningfully at the puddle gathering around his feet. “I’m dripping water all over Janet’s clean floor and this dog’s probably going to add to the mess any moment now. If you insist on discussing the matter, let’s do it outside. In fact, come down to the pool with me and we’ll try to arrive at a compromise.”

  “What sort of compromise?” she asked warily.

  “Join me in a drink and I’ll agree to look at the pros and cons of keeping her. A little adult conversation might dispose me to view the matter more charitably.”

  Nicole thought it sounded more like blackmail than compromise, but she hardly felt she was in a position to argue the point.

  “I’ll open a bottle of wine,” he added persuasively. “I know you don’t care for Scotch.”

  “Isn’t it a bit late to be outside?”

  “Half-past nine is scarcely late.”

  “I was talking about the temperature. It’ll be too cold.”

  “It’s seventy-five degrees out there. The patio bricks are still warm from the sun.” He hoisted Honey-Peaches onto the broad palm of his hand so that her front legs dangled between his fingers, and smiled winningly. “What’s with all the excuses, Nicole? Why are you so reluctant to give a few more minutes of your precious time to helping me decide what to do about this benighted creature that you’ve brought into my home?”

  Nicole knew why. Wine, moonlight and Pierce Warner at his most charming were about as safe a combination as gasoline and fire, no matter what the reason. “I’m not making excuses,” she said.

  “Really? That’s what it sounds like to me. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re afraid to be alone in the dark with me.”

  Ahh! She caught the exclamation just in time and swallowed it. “That’s absurd!”

  “Then you’ll join me?”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.” Although the winning smile didn’t slip an inch, there was no mistaking his peremptory tone. “Go change into your swimsuit and be quick about it.”

  She resisted the urge to click her heels together and salute, or better yet, remind him he was no longer in the Navy and that it was customary among polite civilians to say “please” and “thank you” occasionally. Under the circumstances, however, it seemed politic to do neither. The puppy’s fate still hung too much in the balance. “All right.”

  “Bring the baby monitor,” he said, still in Commander mode, “just in case Tom wakes up, though I can’t imagine he will after the day he’s had.”

  “What about...?” Nicole gestured at Honey-Peaches who continued to dangle from the palm of Pierce’s hand.

  “I’ll bring the mutt down to the pool. No point in leaving it here to howl and raise the whole neighborhood.” He inclined his head toward the door behind her. “Hop to it, Nicole. Time’s a-wasting and I don’t like the way your protégée is squirming around.”

  She wasn’t sure wha
t prompted her to choose a swimsuit which she’d owned in her other life but had rejected as being too risqué for a nanny to wear, with its plunging neckline and high-cut legs. The need to convince herself that she was still in charge of her own life, despite his attempts to run it for her? The urge to test her susceptibility to him—or his to her? Certainly, for a woman who, just minutes before, had experienced a profound reluctance to play with fire, it was a rash decision, a fact borne home to her the moment she dropped her cover-up on one of the two chaises Pierce had drawn up beside a small glass-topped table bearing a wine cooler and two liqueur glasses.

  “That’s new,” he said, pausing in the act of uncorking a small bottle to run an appraising eye over the swimsuit.

  “No. I’ve had it for ages.”

  His gaze settled on her shoulders, slid to her waist, somehow bypassing the bits in between as if they were too obscene to merit attention, and coming to rest midway between her knees and her hips. “It’s not like the one you usually wear.”

  There was nothing overtly critical in the observation but his glance, along with something in his tone, left her feeling indecently exposed. As if to compound the matter, the moon chose that moment to swim out from behind the trees and bathe her in a glare so brightly revealing that she almost cringed.

  Scooping Honey-Peaches from her spot in the middle of one of the chaises, Nicole clutched her to her bosom, thereby covering that portion of her anatomy Pierce seemed to find most offensive. Annoyed as much with herself as with Pierce, she said defiantly, “No, it’s not. What would be the point in always buying the same thing?”

  He cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by such aggression. “No point, I guess. It’s just such a...change. I always think of you as more...”

  “Dowdy?” she suggested, when he clearly couldn’t come up with a word that fit his idea of how a properly-attired nanny should look.

  “Conservative,” he said. “You never struck me as the flamboyant type.”

  “Sorry if I’ve disappointed you,” she said, wondering if he’d ever noticed that Louise Trent’s hemlines were practically on speaking terms with her waist.