His New Nanny

“There’s my darlin’,” Helen said, her gaze warm as it lingered on Melanie. “How about some French toast this morning?”

So the old woman had a soft spot, and that spot seemed to be Melanie, Amanda mused. Perhaps her unfriendliness toward Amanda was because she was afraid Amanda would get close to Melanie, then leave.

“Did you sleep well?” Amanda asked Melanie. Melanie nodded. “After you eat breakfast and get dressed, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do today.”

The day passed surprisingly quickly. After breakfast and getting Melanie washed and dressed for the day, the two of them played an educational game that Amanda had brought with her.

Even though Melanie didn’t say a word, Amanda recognized that the child was bright and had a good sense of humor. She also noticed that Melanie was eager to please, and when she did something wrong she flinched, as if anticipating a blow.

It concerned Amanda and she made a note to discuss it with Sawyer. Lunch was a picnic on the back patio. After they ate, they went for a walk, where Amanda kept up a running commentary about the bugs they encountered.

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.”

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.