His New Nanny

“So, where are you from?” Lillian asked Amanda as Lillian buttered a biscuit the size of her fist.

“Kansas City,” Amanda replied.

Lillian looked at Sawyer in surprise. “How on earth did you find her?”

“Amanda’s brother and I went to college together,” Sawyer said. “I mentioned to him that I was in the market for a nanny, and it just so happened that Amanda was in the market for a job.”

“You know I was perfectly happy taking care of Melanie,” Lillian exclaimed. “We had lots of fun, didn’t we, sweetheart?” She smiled at Melanie, who replied with a quick nod of her head.

“I couldn’t allow you to continue to ignore your own work,” Sawyer said smoothly. He looked at Amanda, those dark green eyes of his enigmatic. “Lillian is an artist who has neglected her work for the past couple of months to help me out with Melanie.”

“An artist? What kind of art?” Amanda asked.

“I dabble in a little bit of everything,” she replied.

“She’s being modest.” James looked at his wife affectionately. “One of the things she ‘dabbles’ in is making Mardi Gras masks that are unbelievable. People come from all over the country to buy a Lillian mask for the celebration.”

It didn’t take long for Melanie to finish eating and look at her father with pleading eyes. He told her she was dismissed from the table, and it seemed she couldn’t escape the room of grown-ups fast enough.

“Poor little thing,” Lillian said when she was gone. “My heart just aches for her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Sawyer replied. “With Amanda here we can establish a routine and before long she’ll be back to her old self.” He said it forcefully, as if by sheer willpower alone he could make it so.

Once again Amanda wondered under what circumstances Melanie had stopped speaking. Was it grief over her mother’s death that had stolen her desire to talk? She couldn’t wait until dinner was over and the Cordells had gone home so she and Sawyer could have a conversation about the daily work schedule and Melanie.

“You must let me show you around Conja Creek,” Lillian said to Amanda. “I can show you the best place to have your hair done, what shop carries the best clothes in town and where all the ladies have lunch.”

“I don’t know how much time I’ll have to shop or do lunch,” Amanda replied. “My number-one priority is, of course, Melanie.”

“As it should be,” Lillian replied. “But surely you’ll have some time off.” She turned her attention to Sawyer. “You mustn’t be a slave driver, Sawyer.”

“I have no intention of that,” he replied. “Amanda and I will work out an agreeable schedule that I’m sure will allow her to do whatever it is you ladies like to do in your spare time.”

“Shop,” James said, once again casting an affectionate gaze at his wife. “That’s what my Lilly likes to do.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied with a laugh.

As Amanda watched the loving interplay between James and Lillian, she felt a pang of wistfulness. She’d thought she’d had that kind of relationship with Scott, but when her life had fallen apart he’d run as fast as he could from her.

“Conja Creek. It’s an interesting name,” Amanda said.

“Conja is Cajun and it means to put a spell on,” Sawyer replied.

“Legend has it that the creek bewitches people, puts a spell on them and they never want to leave,” Lillian said. “Personally, the creek hasn’t gotten to me. I could move out of here tomorrow if my dear husband would. I’d love the hustle and bustle of Shreveport.”

“Ah, but remember, here you’re a big fish in a little pond and in Shreveport you’d be a little fish in a big pond,” James teased.

Dinner might have been pleasant if Amanda hadn’t been so aware of the simmering tension that seemed to be in the air around Sawyer. More than once throughout the meal she felt his gaze lingering on her, making her incredibly self-conscious and ill at ease.

It was after eight when the Cordells finally left and Sawyer led Amanda into his study. “I’ll be right back. I need to check on Melanie,” he said, and left her alone in the room.

A large desk dominated the space with what appeared to be a state-of-the-art computer on top. Several overstuffed chairs sat in front of the desk. Amanda sank into one of them, fighting the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her.

As she waited for Sawyer she looked around the room. One of the walls was decorated with framed photographs of buildings and homes. She assumed he’d been the architect on the projects.

Another wall held personal pictures, and she stood and moved closer to get a better view of these. There were several of Melanie. They looked to be school portraits, each one showing her a little older.

Then there were a couple of photographs of Sawyer, the woman who must have been his wife and Melanie. The woman was beautiful, a brunette with exotic dark eyes and lush lips. On the surface the photos depicted a happy family, but as Amanda studied the subtle body language, she saw a distance between husband and wife.

A distance that had resulted in murder?

There was one other picture that Amanda instantly recognized. Her brother had one just like it hanging on the wall in his office. The photo was of six young men, their arms slung around each other in easy friendship.

Amanda knew it had been taken in college. “The Brotherhood,” Johnny had told her when she’d asked about it. He’d explained that the Brotherhood had been a group of young, wealthy men all from Conja Creek.

Johnny, who hadn’t been from Conja Creek and had been at the college on a scholarship had been welcomed into the fold when he’d been assigned a room with Jackson Burdeaux, one of the men in the photo.

She sat in the chair again once more wondering if she had done the right thing in coming here. Certainly Lillian and James Cordell had seemed like respectable, decent people. Surely if they thought Sawyer Bennett had killed his wife they wouldn’t be coming over for dinner.

She straightened in the chair, tension coiling in her stomach as Sawyer returned to the room. Each time she saw him she was struck again by the attractiveness of his bold features, his chiseled jaw and thick black hair.

“I think it would be easiest if I tell you my expectations. Then if you have a problem we can discuss it.” His firm tone made her suspect he was not a man who was accustomed to having his authority questioned.

She nodded and waited for him to continue. He moved behind the desk and sat, his gaze direct and focused on her. “I need you to be here Monday through Friday from the time Melanie wakes up until she goes to bed. I have an office in Baton Rouge and will be driving back and forth on those days. You can have the weekends off.” A smile curved the corners of his lips. “You’ll be free to run the streets of Conja Creek with Lillian.”

The magnetism of his smile caused a small ball of heat to ignite in the pit of her stomach. The smile was there only a moment, then gone. “What Melanie needs right now more than anything is routine and consistency. She needs somebody she can count on, somebody she can trust, and I’m hoping you can be that person for her.”

She nodded. They had already discussed salary in their e-mail conversations, so nothing he’d said so far was a surprise. “I’m hoping Melanie and I will become the best of friends.”

He stood as if to dismiss her. “We’ll take things on a day-to-day basis. I won’t keep you this evening. I know it’s been a long day for you, and Melanie is an early riser. One last thing. My daughter is afraid of the dark. There’s a night-light in her room. Make sure it’s turned on each night when she goes to bed.”

She got up from her chair, aware that she was being dismissed. “Before I leave, there’s something I’d like to ask you. I understand that Melanie quit speaking two months ago. Can you tell me under what circumstances this happened?”

He walked around the desk and moved to stand before her…too close…invading her space. His green eyes gleamed with a hard light as his lips once again curved into a smile, this one not so pleasant.

“Haven’t you heard?” he asked, and one of his dark brows quirked upward. “Melanie stopped speaking on the night that I murdered her mother.”

Chapter Two

Sawyer saw the lift of her chin that displayed a touch of bravado, which was incongruent with the loss of color from her face. She was a pretty woman, with her soft brown hair and guileless blue eyes. She smelled like jasmine, and he felt a stirring deep inside him as he breathed in her fragrance.

“If you’re trying to shock me, then you’ve failed,” she said. “I stopped at a cafе on my way here and heard all the rumors about your being responsible for your wife’s murder.”

“Then why did you come? Why didn’t you high-tail it out of here when you heard the rumors?”

Some of the color was slowly returning to her cheeks. “Because Melanie needs somebody. Because my brother told me you’re a good man.”

The knot of tension that had been in his chest for weeks eased somewhat at her words. He’d always believed he was a good man, but Erica’s murder had turned him into somebody he scarcely recognized.