The Nanny's Secret

Wyatt gazed down at the tiny face. The eyes that looked up at him were blue like Chloe’s, but with an openly trusting quality to them that Chloe’s hadn’t held in years. He saw his daughter in the wispy amber curls and full, heart-shaped mouth. But some features were unfamiliar. The unknown boy, who’d taken what he wanted without a second thought, had left traces of himself, too.

The boy who’d derailed Chloe’s young life.

If Wyatt had known about the pregnancy early on, would he have discouraged her from having this baby? Chloe was his only child, and he’d had such plans for her—college, maybe a career and a good marriage with children born at the right time. But it was too late for questions and regrets. The baby was here and she seemed determined to keep it. They would have to make the best of a bad situation.

But Lord, where would he find the wisdom? Where would he find the patience to be there for his daughter and grandchild? It just wasn’t in him.

Sensing his tension, perhaps, the baby broke into a plaintive wail. The knot in Wyatt’s stomach jerked tight. Now what? He didn’t know anything about babies, especially how to deal with crying ones.

“You take him.” He shoved the mewling child into Leigh’s arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chloe flinch. Something here didn’t seem right. But whatever it was, Wyatt didn’t know how to fix it. As a man, he’d taken pride in his ability to handle any situation. But right now he felt just plain lost.

* * *

Leigh cradled the baby close. He stopped crying and snuggled into her warmth, his rosebud mouth searching instinctively for something to suck. Aching, Leigh brushed a fingertip over the satiny head. He was so tiny, so sweet and so helpless. How could she do this job without losing her heart?

From the open doorway, delighted teenage squeals shattered the stillness.

“Chloe! Is that your baby?”

“OMG, he’s so little!”

“Let me hold him!”

Three pretty, stylish girls swarmed into the room, laden with wrapped gifts and shopping bags, which they piled on the foot of the bed. With a sigh of relief, Leigh surrendered little Mikey to one of them. Her eyes met Wyatt’s across the crowded room. He nodded toward the door. It was time for the grown-ups to leave.

“You look rattled. How about some coffee?” Wyatt’s hand brushed the small of Leigh’s back, setting off a shimmer of awareness as he guided her into the corridor.

“Thanks, that sounds good. I’d guess we’re both rattled.” Leigh’s knees were quivering. Only the arrival of Chloe’s girlfriends had saved her crumbling composure.

Kevin’s baby. Her own little nephew. And she couldn’t risk telling a soul.

Leigh and her teenage brother had always been close. Last spring Kevin had confided to her that he’d gotten a girl pregnant. Chloe Richardson—her dad owns Wolf Ridge and she goes to that snooty private school. She texted me that she was pregnant. I offered to...you know, man up and be responsible. But she said to forget it because she planned to get rid of the kid. She was moving away and never wanted to hear from me again. Promise me you won’t tell Mom, Leigh. It would kill her.

Leigh had kept her promise, believing the issue would never surface again. Then a few days ago, as she was proofing the ads for the paper, she’d discovered that Wyatt Richardson needed a nanny. Some simple math and a discreet call to the hospital had confirmed all she needed to know.

Telling Kevin was out of the question. After a long phase of teenage rebellion he was finally thinking of college and working toward a scholarship. The news that he had a son could fling the impulsive boy off course again. Worse, it could send him blundering into the path of a man angry and powerful enough to destroy his future. Leigh couldn’t risk letting that happen. But she wanted—needed—to know and help Kevin’s baby.

“Here we are.” Wyatt opened the door to the hospital cafeteria. “Nothing fancy, but I can vouch for the coffee.” Finding an empty table, he pulled out a chair for Leigh. She waited while he went through the line and returned with two steaming mugs along with napkins, spoons, cream and sugar.

Seating himself across from her, he leaned back in his chair and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Well, what do you think?” he demanded.

Leigh took her time, adding cream to her coffee and stirring it with a spoon. “The baby’s beautiful. But I get the impression your daughter is scared to death. She’s going to need a lot of help.”

“Are you prepared to give her that help?”

Leigh studied him over the rim of her mug. She saw a successful man, a winner in every way that mattered to the world. She saw a tired man, his jaw unshaven and his eyes laced with fatigue. She saw a father at his wits’ end, and she knew what he wanted to hear. But if she couldn’t be honest in everything, she would at least be honest in this.

“Assuming the job’s mine, I’ll do my best to give her some support. But make no mistake, Wyatt, it’s the baby I’ll be there for. Chloe’s your child. If you think you can step aside and leave her parenting to me, we’ll both end up failing her. Do I make myself clear?”

For an instant he looked as if she’d doused him with a fire hose. Then a spark of annoyance flared in his deep blue eyes. One dark eyebrow shifted upward. Had she said too much and blown her chance? As he straightened in his chair, Leigh braced herself for a storm. But he only exhaled, like a steam locomotive braking to a halt.

“Good. You’re not afraid to speak your mind. With Chloe, that trait will come in handy.”

“But did you hear what I said?”

“Heard and duly noted. We’ll see how things go.” He whipped a pen out of his pocket and wrote something on a napkin. “This is the weekly salary I propose to pay you. I trust it’s enough.”

He slid the napkin toward her. Leigh gasped. The amount was more than twice what she’d anticipated. “That’s very...generous,” she mumbled.

“I expect you’ll earn every cent. Until Chloe and the baby settle into a routine, you’ll be needed pretty much 24/7. After things calm down we’ll talk about schedules and time off. In the next few days, I’ll have a formal contract drawn up for you. That nondisclosure document you signed will be part of it. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Leigh felt as if she’d just consigned away her soul. But it was all for Kevin’s baby. She took a lingering sip of her coffee, which had cooled. “So when do you want me to start?”

“How about now? The nursery needs to be set up. I’d intended for that to happen before the baby was born, but Chloe couldn’t make up her mind on what she wanted. It can’t wait any longer—you’ll just have to decide for her. Earlier today I called Baby Mart and opened an account. After I take you back to your car, you can go there and pick out whatever the baby’s going to need—clothes, diapers, formula, a crib, the works. Everything top-of-the-line. I’ve arranged for special delivery by the end of the day.” He rose from his chair, all energy and impatience. “After that, you should have a couple of hours to resign from the paper, pack your things and report to my house.”

“You want me there tonight?”

“If the baby’s coming home tomorrow, we’ve got to have the nursery ready and waiting. Will you need directions to the house?”

“No. I know where you live.” No one who’d been to Wolf Ridge could miss the majestic glass-and-timber house that sat like a baron’s castle on a rocky bluff, overlooking the resort. Finding her way shouldn’t be a problem, even in the dark. But Leigh couldn’t ignore a feeling of unease, as if she were being swept into a maelstrom.

Wyatt Richardson was a man who’d started poor and achieved all he had through force of will. Mere moments after she’d agreed to work for him, he was taking over her life, barking orders as if he owned her—which to his way of thinking, he probably did.

Since he was her employer, she would put up with a certain amount of it. But if the man expected her to be a doormat he was in for a surprise. She would be little Mikey’s advocate, speaking up for his welfare, even if it meant bashing heads with Wyatt.

Kevin’s child had been born into a family with an immature teenage mother, an uncaring grandmother and a reluctant grandfather, whose idea of family duty was to turn everything over to the hired help. In the hospital room, when she’d given Wyatt the baby, he’d handled the tiny blue bundle like a ticking bomb. He seemed to be in denial about his grandson’s very existence, never referring to him by name, only calling him “the baby.”

Changing things would be up to her. She could only hope she was wise enough, and tough enough, for the challenge.

* * *

Wyatt boosted Leigh into the Hummer, struggling against the awareness of his hands sliding over her warm curves. Her fragrance was clean and subtle, teasing his senses to the point of arousal. Her long legs, clad in silky hose, flashed past his eyes as she climbed onto the seat. What would she do if she knew he was imagining those legs wrapping his hips?

She’d probably kick him halfway across the parking lot.

What had gotten into him? Didn’t he have enough trouble on his hands with Chloe and the baby? Did he really need to complicate things with an attraction toward the woman he’d hired to be the nanny?

He’d never had trouble getting bed partners. All he needed to do was stroll through the resort lodge and make eye contact with an attractive female. If she was available, the rest would be easy.

So why was he suddenly craving a woman who came with a hands-off sign?

Maybe that was the problem. With Chloe and the baby sharing his house, an affair with the nanny would be a dicey proposition. For that matter, with Chloe in residence, bringing any woman to his bedroom would be a bad idea—just one of the ways his life was about to change.

But right now, that was the least of his worries.

Closing the door, he walked around the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat. Leigh had fastened her safety belt and was attempting to tug her little skirt over her lovely knees. Wyatt willed himself to avert his eyes.

“Just for the record,” he said, starting the engine, “we don’t hold with formal dress at the house. Pack things you’ll be comfortable in, like jeans and sneakers.”