A Man Worth Loving

“Good. Now that that’s settled…” He rubbed his hands together, ready to move on. He had a date with a longneck bottle, which would hopefully end with a date with a redhead or a blonde…whichever was ready and available. “So, I probably won’t be home until late…well, depending on how well things go tonight…”

“How late?” she asked, her brow furrowing a little.

“Uh, well, not sure. Is that a problem? I thought I told you that you might need to be available for overnighters.”

“Yes. You did mention the possibility but I didn’t realize it would start with my first day. I didn’t bring the proper supplies.”

He frowned. That certainly put a crimp in his plans. Suddenly he felt as if he had a curfew. He glanced around and his gaze alighted on the kid’s car seat in the corner where Annabelle had left it the last time she’d dropped him off. “Here…how about this…if it gets too late you can just take the kid to your place and I’ll pick him up later.”

Problem solved. Except the disapproving stare coming from his new nanny told him what she thought of that idea. “Oh, never mind. I’ll be home before eleven. That work for you?” he bit out, hating that he was giving in. He could tell right now this arrangement wasn’t going to work out. He didn’t care if his mom picked her out or not. She didn’t have to deal with her.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes registering cool victory. “I appreciate your consideration. I don’t know the roads around here quite yet and don’t feel comfortable driving too late at night.”

Yeah, yeah…he wanted to grumble but he didn’t. He was just itching to get out of there. He was headed out of town tonight and now his prowl-time just got cut in half. Not even he could close the deal with this short of a window. But he could try. “You have my cell. If there’s an emergency…just leave me a voice mail I guess and then call Annabelle. She’s real good with stuff like that. She’s my brother’s wife.”

“I’ve met Annabelle,” she interjected.

“Oh? When?” he asked, to be polite. He couldn’t really care less and time was ticking. He pocketed his wallet in his back pocket and grabbed his keys.

“Well, don’t you remember, she was the one who dropped off Ian yesterday. We met officially this morning in the quilting shop. She was telling me how Ian rolled off the sofa yesterday,” she said, although her tone was professional, he sensed her disapproval and he stiffened.

“He was fine,” he said.

“Yes, Annabelle told me. I’m glad. Falls can be very serious for a baby Ian’s age.”

Sammy shifted, annoyed at her prim censure. “Yeah, well, he’s fine,” he said, moving to the door. “Later.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Halvorsen.”

He stopped. “Call me Sammy,” he said but she shook her head.

“I’d prefer not. You’re my employer.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. I guess you’re right. But it’s just that when you call me Mr. Halvorsen I feel like I should be looking for my dad or something. Plus, it makes me feel old.”

She smiled at that but held firm. He felt a scowl coming on but really what did he care what she called him? If she wanted to be all stiff and proper who was he to say she couldn’t be? He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Good night, Ms. Rose.”

AUBREY WATCHED AS SAMMY WALKED out the door, her temper building as she replayed the last five minutes of their conversation through her head. What a self-absorbed jerk. She tried to be understanding because he was a widower and all but he had some nerve to try and come on to her like that. Who wandered around their house in just a towel? Especially when their nanny was supposed to arrive within minutes? And then to try and make her feel as if she was overreacting to his display? Her fists clenched as another wave of anger rolled over her. How did she get herself into this one?

Egad. The ego on that guy. Unfortunately, he probably had plenty of women who were happy to feed that monstrous ego. If she were the brainless type, she could totally see how the man likely charmed his way into countless beds. A smile here, a little flattery, and boom, panties dropped. Her lip curled in open disgust. It was likely he had good qualities somewhere deep—very deep—down, but at the moment, Aubrey couldn’t imagine what they could be.

Well, if she were held under a hot bulb in a torture chamber with someone threatening to pull her fingernails off she might be forced to admit that he had one helluva physique. He looked damn near carved from stone, like the marble statues at Versailles, except he didn’t sport a Roman nose nor was he missing a limb. She inhaled sharply at the traitorous musings and shut them down immediately. Jerk. He hadn’t even said goodbye to his baby. What kind of father was he?

A terrible one.

She felt a twinge for judging him so quickly, but really, he hadn’t made much of a case for himself with that attitude of his. And what kind of person tells a virtual stranger that she can just pack up his child like luggage and take the baby home because it inconveniences his party time? Argggh! She cored an apple with particular vehemence and nearly sliced through to her hand. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. No point in getting so worked up over one silly, self-absorbed idiot who didn’t know how lucky he was.

She looked sorrowfully at the sleeping boy and her heart melted a bit more for the sad circumstances then she went to prepare some food for the little guy. She’d brought her food processor so she could make homemade baby food. He was old enough to start with a few solids but she wanted to start slow so that she didn’t inadvertently spark a food allergy in the boy.

Without Sammy in the way, bothering her with his smarmy smiles and perfect body, she started to feel more at ease. The house was small and rustic but there was a coziness to it that appealed to her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Her mother had ridiculously bourgeois taste that ran toward the faux gold furnishings and lavish tapestries that carpeted the cavernous hallways of the homes she decorated and Aubrey had always found them embarrassingly ostentatious. Yep, Sammy’s house was so far from anything Aubrey had ever called home that it was immediately wonderful in Aubrey’s opinion.

Humming a wordless tune, she went to work mashing some bananas she’d brought with her and set to boiling water for the apples. Nikki and Violet had loved her homemade applesauce. She frowned slightly as the thought of them still hit a sore spot and started coring more apples. Apparently eight months wasn’t enough time to lessen the pain of not having them in her life but she’d loved them so deeply. Her gaze drifted to Ian, who was starting to awaken and sighed heavily. She couldn’t let her heart get attached to this one. One corner of her mouth twisted ruefully. At least she didn’t have to worry about falling for her employer with this job. Sammy Halvorsen was the last person she’d ever be attracted to.

Thank goodness for small favors.

CHAPTER THREE

SAMMY WAS SHIT-FACED. The woman who was propping him up giggled as he tried to fit his key into the lock and she had to help guide it in.

He made a sexually suggestive comment that made her giggle again and they both fell into the door, slamming it open against the wall.

“Oops.” The woman laughed as they stumbled inside, making a racket loud enough to wake the dead. He pressed against her, slanting his mouth over hers, eager to get the party started. Sammy remembered he already had company just as Aubrey came around the corner with a disgusted expression on her face.

His date quickly sobered and looked askance at Aubrey, who appeared the part of a very annoyed housemate, which if Sammy hadn’t been two sheets to the wind, he might’ve realized wasn’t funny at all. But as it was, the pinched look on her face was quite comical. “Who is that?” the woman—Sharlene? Sherry? Crap, he couldn’t remember—didn’t sound amused, either. She turned to him as he used the wall to steady himself. “I thought you said you weren’t married,” she said with a definite edge to her voice.

“I’m not.” He pushed off from the wall and walked unsteadily toward Aubrey, who looked ready to kick him in the shins with her tiny feet. Boy, she was petite. So different from Dana. Dana had been tall and beautiful, his Amazon wife, he used to tease. Frowning, he gestured toward Aubrey as he walked past her toward the kitchen. “She’s my nanny. Want a beer?” he asked.

“Mr. Halvorsen…a moment, please,” came Aubrey’s firm request as she turned on her heel and marched from the living room. Judging by the way she didn’t wait to see if he would comply, she clearly expected him to follow.

Sammy sighed and gestured to the blonde to make herself comfortable while he took care of the situation at hand. He found Aubrey in his bedroom, which suddenly made him intensely uncomfortable. Aubrey in his bedroom was…not right. At all.

As if reading his mind, she peered up at him, tightlipped and angry. “It’s a small house, Mr. Halvorsen. I did not feel it prudent to air my concerns in front of your friend, and I’m not about to wake Ian up by taking this conversation into his room, though by the way you crashed about like a drunken ox it’s a wonder the baby didn’t wake up screaming,” she muttered with a glare.

“We weren’t that loud,” he said defensively, though he knew that she was probably right. Damn. This nanny rode him harder than his ma, which was probably why Mary Halvorsen hand-selected her.

“You’re drunk,” she accused, clearly unamused.

“Of course I am,” he said, smiling lopsidedly at her. “That’s the whole point, ain’t it? Have fun, cut up, cut loose—”

“Bring home floozies with your infant son sleeping in the other room,” she interrupted and he jerked.

“That’s a shitty thing to say.”

“Yes. And equally bad because it’s true, isn’t it?” she queried him, crossing her arms. “Mr. Halvorsen…if this is your type of behavior, the kind of thing I can come to expect from you…”

“Will you stop with the Mister already? I told you—”

“And I told you no. The problem I see with you, Mr. Halvorsen, is that you’re not accustomed to responsibility. I am your son’s nanny. Not yours. You’ve put me in a pickle, Mr. Halvorsen.”

His alcohol-soaked brain zeroed in on the word pickle and he chuckled. Who talked like that? It was cute in an annoyingly stuck-up way. If he were attracted to the librarian type, which he wasn’t, he might be seriously turned on by her prim and proper routine. But as evidenced by the bleached blonde getting bored and sober in his living room…nope, it wasn’t the brainy types that turned his head. Although…

She snapped two fingers in front of his face, and he refocused on her. “As I was saying, you’ve put me in a bad spot. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with Ian in your condition or with the company you’ve chosen to bring home with you—” she might as well have said vermin the way she phrased it “—but I don’t feel it’s appropriate for me to take Ian out of bed at this late hour and take him home with me. So you leave me no choice but to insist that you send that woman home and put yourself to bed.”

He balked. “That wouldn’t be right. I invited her to stay.”

She gave him a steely glare. “Nothing about this situation is right by my estimation. Send her home or I quit.”

He cocked a rogue grin her way, oddly charmed by the show of spirit flashing in her eyes. Funny, he hadn’t noticed how cute she was. He moved closer and she took a healthy step back. He frowned, stung by her obvious rejection. Now that was different. “So quit,” he said with a shrug, anger at being rejected coupled with the tequila shots he’d downed earlier combining to make his mouth say really bad things. “It’s not like it takes a bunch of skill to watch a kid. I can find another nanny…one who’s not so uptight and bitchy.”