His Potential Wife

Willow nodded, feeling dizzy with relief that she still had her job. “Of course. But…I’ll have the run of the kitchen, for making snacks for the children and so on?”

“That’s something you can arrange with Mrs. Caird. I’m sure she’ll have no objections as long as you clean up after yourself.”

“Thank you.” Willow turned away and started toward the door.

“Er…before you disappear again…there’s something I…need to know.”

Willow turned around, questioningly. But when she saw the evasive expression in his eyes, she felt a quiver of apprehension. Was he going to chastise her, now, for her immodest behavior that afternoon?

“Ye…es,” she said. “And what is that?”

“I need to…know…er…your measurements.”

“I don’t understand. What measurements?”

A vein throbbed at his right temple. “Do I need to spell it out?” He scowled at her. And dark color seeped into his cheeks. “The usual measurements, for heaven’s sake!”

“The…usual measurements?”

“The size, Ms. Tyler, of your waist, and your hips. And—” he looked as if he was going to choke on the words but finally he got them out “—the size of your breasts.”

CHAPTER THREE

HELL will freeze over first!

Willow tried to sputter the words out but her voice wouldn’t cooperate. Her body measurements? Wasn’t it bad enough that the man had caught her naked…now he wanted to know her bust size? His boldness beggared belief! What kind of a sleazy—

“I—” He shifted his feet awkwardly. “I want to put you in an outfit and since I have to order it from a catalog—”

“An outfit, Dr. Galbraith?” At last she’d found her voice but it was so stunned she hardly recognized it. “What kind of an outfit? Do you see me perhaps in a crimson lace bra with a black and crimson garter belt and…and…sheer black stockings with red sparkly high-heeled shoes…and—”

“I meant…a uniform, Ms. Tyler.” The man sounded as if he had a fishbone stuck in his craw. “A nanny’s uniform, of the type my children’s previous nannies wore. Ordered through the smartnannies.com catalog on the Internet.”

Willow wanted to shrivel up and disappear. A nanny’s uniform. What an absolute idiot she’d made of herself.

“I apologize.” Her cheeks must be as crimson as the scanty lace bra her imagination had so vividly conjured up. “We seem to have been talking at cross-purposes.”

“Yes,” he murmured. “It would seem we have.”

But, she reflected defensively, it hadn’t been totally her fault. He should have made himself clear, instead of bumbling along like an embarrassed teenager. With a touch of asperity, she said, “Did none of your previous nannies balk at providing you with such…personal…information?”

“I always left that kind of stuff to my stepmother. She did the hiring of the nannies…and the ordering of their uniforms. This is all new to me, Ms. Tyler. I’d appreciate if you’d make some allowances!”

His sudden smile was as unexpected as it was disarming: a curve of sensual lips, a flash of white teeth, a twinkle of wickedly blue eyes. The smile not only dazzled her, but it almost felled her. When Scott Galbraith set out to charm—as he was obviously doing now!—he was irresistible.

And when she stared, transfixed, into those arresting blue eyes, she realized with a bone-chilling sense of alarm that if she let her guard down, how dangerously easy it would be to let herself fall in love with him. She sensed herself teetering on the edge of it already—as if she were balancing in the open doorway of a plane at thirty thousand feet, with no parachute strapped to her back.

And falling for Dr. Scott Galbraith would be the worst mistake she had ever made.

No, the second worst. The worst mistake was the one she’d made seven years ago, when she had—with such tragic consequences—mistaken teenage infatuation for true love.

He was speaking again, and drawing in a shivery breath, she dragged her thoughts from the past and forced herself to concentrate.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Since you seem so averse to giving me your measurements, I’ll set you up at my computer and you can input your order yourself.” He started toward his desk. “Would you find that acceptable?”

“No.”

He halted and regarded her with a surprised expression.

“You don’t want to input the info yourself?” he asked.

“I’d…prefer not to wear a uniform.”

“Why not?”

“It would come between me and the children.”

“Ms. Tyler, they’re accustomed to their nannies being in uniform. If anything, it would give them a feeling of continuity, which could only be good.”

“Granted, but it would also set me apart, which could only be bad.”

“It would give you an aura of authority,” he argued, “which would help you to establish control.”

“From what you’ve told me,” she said, “wearing a uniform didn’t help the previous nannies in that regard! Besides,” she added, “a uniform might be appropriate in a city setting but here…”

“Yes?”

“I can’t see myself in a uniform while I splash around in the creek with the children, or while we play hide-and-seek in the woods. Can you?”

He stared at her with a perplexed expression, as if she’d posed a highly complex problem.

“I’ll order a couple of uniforms,” he said finally. “And you’ll give it your best shot. If after one week, you find it too…cumbersome…for certain activities, then we’ll discuss the matter again and come up with a compromise that satisfies us both. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes,” she said, but without any great enthusiasm. “That would be acceptable.”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.” He took his seat at the desk, in front of the computer.

She should have been watching the screen as he accessed the Web site, instead she found herself looking down at the top of his head…and noticing how rich his black hair was, and how much silkier it seemed, up close—

He rose from his chair. “Sit down.”

She did, and felt his warmth lingering on the padded leather seat. There was an intimacy about it that she found disconcerting. Wriggling impatiently, she shifted her mind to a higher plane as he crossed to the window and stood with his back to her.

After she’d input her info, she rolled back the swivel chair and got to her feet.

She said, to the back of his head and his impressively wide shoulders, “It seems a bit stupid now…”

He turned. “What does?”