The Nanny Proposal

“This little girl is just too charming.” Rachel touched the end of Joy’s tiny, button nose, then leveled her gaze on Greg. “Too bad her dad couldn’t muster up any charisma this morning.”

Greg let his silence urge the office manager to expound on her comment.

“You couldn’t find your razor?” she asked.

Of its own volition, his hand reached up to cup his jaw. “Oh, Lord. I never gave it a thought.”

Merriment danced in Rachel’s eyes. “This daddy business really has rocked your world right off its axis, hasn’t it?”

Rather than responding, he took a second to glance down at himself. His tie was askew and his belt was fastened but hadn’t been tucked into the last loop.

“I feel like I’ve been through an earthquake.” Then he amended, “A daily earthquake. She’s pretty good during the days. But the nights…” He sighed wearily. “She still cries for her mother at bedtime. I’ve got to rock her and sing to her for hours before she’ll fall asleep.”

Rachel offered a compassionate smile. “It’ll get easier. I promise. But right now, you’d better get to that patient. She’s been waiting a good while.”

“Of course.” However, before he left the waiting area, he tickled Joy under the chin and was rewarded with her sunny grin. He’d had no idea a man could lose his heart so thoroughly in just seven short days.

Jane sat on the examining table, her stomach dancing with a horrible case of nerves. She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t have a plan. This impulsiveness just wasn’t like her. But she had to find Joy. Her heart felt aching and empty without that baby in her life. How could Pricilla just disappear with the child like she had? How could her sister do such a thing?

Hot tears prickled the backs of Jane’s eyelids when she thought of her niece with her huge jewel-green eyes, her springy red curls and those deep dimples that formed every time the child grinned. Jane dashed the moisture away with a quick swipe of her fingertips. She couldn’t afford tears. Not now. She had to try to keep her wits about her. Dr. Greg Hamilton would be arriving any moment.

She glanced at the white clock on the wall. He was late. But could she expect anything else from the haphazard and irresponsible man who had made her sister pregnant and then would have nothing else to do with her or the baby he’d created?

Tamp down that anger, she warned herself. Giving Greg Hamilton a piece of her mind would be satisfying, yes. But it would get her nowhere in locating Pricilla and Joy. And that was the sole reason she was here.

A whole week had passed since she’d arrived home from the restaurant where she worked as a waitress to find the apartment empty. Pricilla had left no note. No hint of where she’d gone or when she planned to return. At first, Jane had been furious, thinking that her sister had taken the baby with her on a date, or something equally as capricious.

Pricilla was always doing things on a whim. She never thought her actions through. And that unguarded attitude often placed her own baby in neglectful circumstances. Hadn’t Jane just argued with Pricilla about that very subject two days before her sister and niece disappeared?

Jane had discovered that, rather than staying home with Joy while Jane was at work, Pricilla had been leaving the baby with a neighbor—a young woman neither of them knew very well—and going out on the town. Jane hated to admit it, but her sister’s maternal instinct wasn’t very strong. It had been sheer luck that Jane had beat her sister home by a mere five minutes and caught her fetching Joy from the house down the block. The hour had been late, and the baby had been wearing nothing but her pajamas to ward off the late October chill.

Jane and Pricilla had an awful argument about the incident. Money was so tight. Jane hadn’t even asked where Pricilla had gotten the funds to pay the neighbor for baby-sitting. Probably from the big-spending men-friends she dated…the ones who seemed to crawl out of the woodwork whenever Pricilla had it in her mind to go out and party. Men who thought nothing of their actions. Men whose only concern was having a good time.

Men like Greg Hamilton.

The name hadn’t even finished whispering across her brain when the door of the examining room opened and the man himself appeared before her.

Jane’s eyes widened, and at the same time her heart skittered into a race. The man was too darned handsome for words! But then, did Pricilla ever choose any other kind?

“Hello.”

He smiled after he spoke, and Jane knew without a doubt from whom baby Joy inherited her dimples. However, while her niece’s were cute enough to invoke grins, the deep indentations in Greg Hamilton’s cheeks were…breathtaking. Even shadowed with a day’s growth of auburn whiskers, those dimples were absolutely mesmerizing. And his eyes were as green as little Joy’s, too.

“Hi.” Her greeting sounded whispery, halting. She silently berated herself. What did she care if his damned dimples made him look like some Hollywood movie star? Or if his eyes glittered attractively? She was appalled by the way her heart skipped and scampered against her ribs, the way her stomach constricted at the sight of him.

“I’m Dr. Hamilton.”

He reached out for her hand and she automatically clasped his. His palm was warm against hers. Secure. Trustworthy. Just like a doctor’s hand should be. Again, he smiled. And again, her insides went utterly haywire. The spontaneous and downright shocking feelings she was experiencing toward this man were so at odds with the opinion she’d formed of him that she felt sure her brain would short-circuit at any moment.

“Jane,” she told him, relieved that she’d even remembered her name. “Jane Dale.”

“Nice to meet you.” Then he said, “Give me a moment to look at your file and then you can tell me what I can do for you today.” He went to the counter and flipped open the manila folder he’d carried in with him.

She was happy to give him as long as he needed. The way things were going, she needed some time herself. Time to bridle these unexpected and totally confusing emotions that were wreaking havoc on her nervous system.

The giddiness was purely a feminine response to a good-looking man. That much, she knew, was completely natural. Completely controllable. But why was she angry that Greg Hamilton was handsome? She had expected him to be, hadn’t she? Pricilla wouldn’t have been caught dead with a man who didn’t have above average looks.

You’re angry because men like the good doctor here, a tiny, hurtful voice silently intoned, would never find you attractive.

That was ludicrous! She didn’t give a hoot if Greg Hamilton, or any other man for that matter, found her attractive or not.

What did anger her were the facts. This man fathered a baby and then refused to have anything to do with the child unless he could have full custody. This man had refused to help Pricilla when he certainly had the means to do so. He’d refused to support his daughter. Those were the facts. Facts that made Jane smolder like a day-old bonfire.

Stay calm, she scolded herself. If she lambasted him like she wanted to—like he deserved—he would surely refuse to help her find Pricilla and Joy.

Why would he help you, anyway? that irritating voice silently taunted. Pricilla had said early on that Dr. Hamilton wanted full custody of his daughter, or he wanted nothing to do with the child. Discovering that Pricilla had suddenly gone off with Joy just might stir in him a renewed interest in his baby girl.

Jane felt the blood drain right out of her face.

What if he decided to take Joy away from Pricilla? What if he hired a lawyer? What if he demanded his rights as the baby’s father be recognized? Her mind whirred faster than the speed of light.

Why hadn’t she thought of all these things before she’d come here? Why hadn’t she realized that she was entering enemy territory? This kind of thoughtless, irresponsible behavior was usually carried out by her sister, not level-headed Jane. But now Jane herself was being swept away by some insane recklessness.

She could be causing Pricilla trouble just by being here. Seeking him out. Jane could lose Joy for good.

That final thought caused her to tremble, literally. Perspiration prickled her forehead and upper lip. She felt light-headed. Dizzy. A frown bit deeply into her brow as she contemplated the magnitude of the mistake she’d made in coming to see Greg Hamilton. But it was too late now. Too late to get out of here without starting some kind of trouble. For Pricilla. For herself.

You can get out of this, a stern, no-nonsense voice echoed in her head. All you have to do is lie. You’ve already set it up perfectly.

In her reluctance to reveal the true purpose of her visit to anyone except Greg Hamilton himself, she had told the receptionist and the nurse she was here for a physical. All she had to do was stick with that story. This would be simple. A piece of cake, really.

She thanked her lucky stars that she and Pricilla had different fathers, hence different last names. The doctor didn’t know her. Had never met her. So there was no reason why he would link the mousy-haired woman sitting in his examining room now with the blond, blue-eyed, gorgeous bombshell that was Pricilla. The logical voice in her head made getting out of this situation unscathed sound so terribly easy.

Nervously running her tongue over her dry lips, Jane tried to make sense of these rash, chaotic thoughts.

Lying is for cheats and swindlers, another part of her brain argued.

Not all liars were bad, the stern voice stressed. Look at poets and song writers, novelists and playwrights. They fabricated stories every single day. They made up people, places, events.

But that was solely for entertainment purposes, her rational side reasoned.

No, the stern voice pointed out, it was for survival. And that’s just what you need to do right now. Survive. So you’d better lie like there’s no tomorrow.

Greg leaned his weight on one elbow, his forehead in his hand, and stared unseeingly at the medical history page in front of him. The woman’s blood pressure was fine. Her weight was perfect for her height. Yet he still continued to stare at the page.

As inconspicuously as possible, he inhaled a huge breath of air, and then expelled it slowly. When he’d entered the room and looked into Jane Dale’s face, it was as if he’d been kicked in the chest by a mule. She seemed so…haunted. He was almost positive her ailment wasn’t physical.

Her gray-blue eyes were clouded. Intense. Desperate.