Temporary Nanny

Temporary Nanny
Carrie Weaver

Can a temporary nanny become a stand-up father? It all starts with a mysterious message from his upstairs neighbour. The next thing he knows, Royce McIntyre is sharing treats with a ten-year-old. But it’s the child’s alluring mum, Katy, who keeps Royce coming back for more.So when a crisis threatens, he surprises the overwhelmed single mother with an offer she can’t refuse… Royce McIntyre may not be like any nanny Katy has ever hired, but he’s certainly the handsomest! And her son really likes him.Together, do they have what it takes to transform a temporary arrangement into a forever family?

“Would you mind hanging out with Jake after school?”

Royce started pacing.

“Royce?” Katy asked.

“I’m here. Just checking my calendar.”

More like stalling for time.

In the past he would have avoided getting tangled up in Katy’s problems. But that was before he woke up in a hospital room unable to recognise his own son because the kid had grown into a man when Royce wasn’t looking. Though he’d failed Michael, maybe he could help out Jake. It was only one day, after all.

“Yeah, I guess I can to it.”

“You don’t sound too sure. I really shouldn’t have asked. My mum can probably take time off work.”

Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m sure. No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. Anyone who knew him well would have been downright amazed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

With two teenage sons, two dogs and three cats, Carrie Weaver often feels she lives in a state called Chaos (not to be confused with Dysfunction Junction, a place she’s visited only once or twice). Her books reflect real life and real love, with all the ups, downs and emotion involved, and in 2006 she was a finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA

Award.

Dear Reader,

I wanted Royce McIntyre’s experience in Temporary Nanny to reflect an injury with which our military troops could relate. My goal was to provide hope during times of trauma.

On the surface, Royce’s life doesn’t resemble that of a soldier. But he triumphs through challenges a wounded soldier might face.

Katy Garner is a single mother struggling to maintain a career and be the best mum possible. Royce is perhaps the last person on earth she’d initially choose to care for her precious ten-year-old son. But soon she realises there’s more to Royce than meets the eye.

I hope you enjoy Royce and Katy’s story!

Yours in reading,

Carrie Weaver

www.carrieweaver.com

Carrie loves to hear from readers through her website or by snail mail at PO Box 6045, Chandler, AZ 85246-6045, USA.

Temporary Nanny

CARRIE WEAVER

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)

For my mother, Mary Ellen. Love ya lots, Mum!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I’d like to thank Jack Swanson for graciously providing a glimpse into the life of an expatriate in Russia. Any errors are strictly mine.

PROLOGUE

Russia

IT WAS A WELDER’S worst nightmare: the odor of gas.

Royce started diving for cover a split second before the force of the explosion knocked him flat.

That’s when things began moving in slow motion. Debris rained down on him in waves distorted by the lens of his welding helmet. He grunted as jagged metal tore his flesh. The sound of his coworkers’ shouts was muffled by the ringing in his ears.

Dimitri ran to his side and yelled something in Russian.

Hang on. Or the Russian equivalent.

Royce tried to respond, but merely groaned.

Dimitri grasped his right hand, telling him it was going to be okay. But on some level, Royce understood it would never be okay again.

He tried to grasp Dimitri’s shoulder, but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Blinking blood from his eyes, Royce focused. Mangled tissue hung from the wrist where his left hand had once been.

A blessed numbness chased away the pain, but chills racked his body. Then darkness descended.

But not before the irony struck him.

Damn.

His ex-wife had been right. He would die chasing an elusive dream.

CHAPTER ONE

Phoenix, Arizona Six months later

ROYCE FUMBLED with his keys. Things came harder these days, even those he was accustomed to doing with one hand.

“You’re sure you’re up to living alone? You’re welcome to stay in the guesthouse.” His sister, Becca, pushed her honey-blond bangs out of her eyes. Even nearing forty, she reminded him of an exuberant cheerleader.

“Absolutely not. You’ve turned your life upside down for me long enough.” He silenced her protest with a pointed look.

At last, he maneuvered the key into the lock. He turned the knob, opened the door and gestured expansively with his good hand. His only hand. “My palace awaits.”