Accidental Nanny

Accidental Nanny
Lindsay Armstrong

NANNY WANTED Outback Cattle Station - Father and Daughter in Need of Love How could Chessie prove to Raefe Stevenson that she wasn't spoiled? The handsome Outback cattle rancher needed a nanny for her small daughter, Jess, and suddenly Chessie saw her chance… .It was a daring thing to do, but Jess soon accepted Chessie as her new nanny, and Raefe had no choice but to keep Chessie on. In fact, she fitted so perfectly that Raefe suggested he become his wife!

“Vices?” Raefe said scornfully. (#u7e1614a8-4dc9-5733-aed6-6c725bf2caa1)Letter to Reader (#uc50e0e47-a763-5f7d-b643-ae0ef5a2a8b7)Title Page (#u41e727c8-b2d4-5a39-a294-f5b05d64eb71)CHAPTER ONE (#u01f00a84-e5a5-5e30-921e-1d0ce58262a6)CHAPTER TWO (#ua1e521ed-c568-5d73-a67c-afcc8da0eb8f)CHAPTER THREE (#u21dd8859-7aa8-5c23-ab93-c730d687bf60)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“Vices?” Raefe said scornfully.

“And what would you describe this as?” he continued. “Aboveboard and openhanded? Honest? To change your name and masquerade as someone you’re not in order to worm your way into a household where you know damn well you’re the last person who would be wanted?” The gray of Raefe’s eyes resembled cold steel as he added, “And that brings us to why you did it.”

The awkward question, of course, Francesca acknowledged, and paused before answering. It proved to be a fatal mistake.

Dear Reader,

A perfect nanny can be tough to find, but once you’ve found her, you’ll love and treasure her forever. She’s someone who’ll not only look after the kids but could also be the loving mom they never knew. Or sometimes she’s a he and is the daddy they are wishing for.

Here at Harlequin Presents® we’ve put together a compelling new series, NANNY WANTED!, in which some of our most popular authors create nannies whose talents extend way beyond taking care of the children! Each story will excite and delight you and make you wonder how any family could be complete without a nineties nanny.

Remember—nanny knows best when it comes to falling in love!

The Editors

Look out next month for.

A Daughter for Christmas

by Cathy Williams (#1993)

Accidental Nanny

Lindsay Armstrong

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

CHAPTER ONE

SHE was about five feet six and in her early twenties, he judged, with a fine carriage that displayed a slender neck, straight shoulders and breasts that bounced beneath the yellow silk of her shirt like tantalising fruit as she jumped out of a dusty Land Rover. Her waist was small, her hips compact, her legs, in blue jeans, long. She also had an imperious air and glorious toffee-coloured hair. Then she spoke, and there was absolute assurance in her cultured vowels—the inborn ease of someone who had been used to having all and sundry do her bidding from her cradle...

Raefe Stevensen narrowed his eyes then raised a wry eyebrow. So it’s true, he mused. She has been up on Wirra. He paused and watched the girl toss her head as she spoke to the man who had driven her. I can guess why she’s here—and expecting me to drop everything, no doubt. He watched a moment longer, then deliberately reached for the telephone.

Francesca Valentine jumped down from a battered Land Rover and looked around intently. There was not a lot to see—one prefabricated building, a hangar, one runway with a limp airsock, two light planes and a helicopter parked on the apron. Her deep blue eyes brightened at the sight of the aircraft, however, and she turned to the driver of the Land Rover, flicking her toffee-coloured hair back. ‘This’ll do, Jim. You don’t need to wait around. You’ll be wanting to get back to the station before the road is flooded anyway.’

‘Well...’ The driver, a dusty, middle-aged man, hesitated. ‘I don’t like to leave you, Miss Valentine. Your father—’

‘Jim, so long as there are planes, I can get myself flown out.’

‘But just in case you can’t,’ Jim persisted. ‘This is a very small town, Miss Valentine. There’s only one pub where you could stay and you wouldn’t—well, it’s not what you’re used to. Cattlemen, drovers, truckies and the like,’ he added with deep significance. ‘Your father—’

‘If you mention my father once again, Jim, I’ll scream. It was his idea that I spend some time on Wirra Station; therefore, even if indirectly, it’s his fault that I’m all but stranded here!’

‘He couldn’t have organised this flood,’ Jim replied reasonably. ‘And it wasn’t his fault the chopper conked out on us at a time like this.’

‘Don’t you believe it,’ Francesca said darkly, but added, ‘Look, surely it’s easier for you not to have me to worry about on top of everything else? I mean, you’re going to have enough on your plate as it is, what with moving stock around let alone yourselves if the waters get up to the homestead.’

Jim sighed and said cautiously, ‘We could be cut off for weeks, I guess.’

‘Exactly! The other thing is, once I get home, I can pull all sorts of strings towards getting you parts flown up to repair the helicopter,’ Francesca finished triumphantly.

‘OK, Miss Valentine, if you say so,’ Jim relented suddenly, and got out to heave her bag off the back seat. ‘I’ll just carry this to the office for you.’

‘I can do it.’ Francesca wrested her bag from him and held out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Jim. I do appreciate your concern, and I hope I wasn’t too much of a... time-waster for you. I shall certainly report back that Wirra is in good hands.’

‘Cheerio, Miss Valentine. As for being a time-waster—well, I doubt if those lads have enjoyed themselves as much for years once they got used to...certain things, so don’t you worry your pretty head about it.’ As he shook her hand vigorously he appraised not only her pretty head but also her shapely figure with a genuine and kindly appreciation that gave no offence. ‘You’re a right card at times, Miss Valentine,’ he added. ‘A real chip off the old block—and it’s been a pleasure.’

‘Not too much of a chip, I hope,’ Francesca murmured, but beneath her breath, and then she stayed to wave Jim off before turning once more to survey the landscape of this tiny airfield in the middle of North Queensland’s Cape York Peninsula.

The rain depression that had blown in off the Gulf of Carpentaria had not yet hit, although the sky was heavy. But the floodwaters generated by the depression were creeping inexorably down the channels and river beds and, according to all predictions, it wouldn’t be long before this wild country that was home to some huge cattle stations would not only be awash from those creeping waters but deluged by the skies above. The northern part of Wirra Station was already under water.

Wirra, Francesca mused, and thought back briefly over the last two weeks that she’d spent on the newest acquisition of the diverse, powerful and immensely wealthy Valentine empire.

There had certainly been a tangible restraint amongst most of the employees towards the new owner’s daughter at first. And if it hadn’t been for Jim, whom she’d known for years and who’d been transferred from another Valentine property to take over the running of Wirra, it might have been quite uncomfortable. But with his help I managed to win them over, I think, she reflected. Am I really a chip off the old block? I know Dad can be immensely charismatic when he sets his mind to it, but there’s a hard, cold side to him I hope I haven’t inherited...

‘Oh, well,’ she said aloud, and turned towards the small building that proclaimed from a sign on the roof that it was the home of Banyo Air—the three craft on the tarmac bore the same logo. ‘The sooner I get myself out of here the better!’

It was an unimpressive office she walked into, with one girl behind a battered desk, two uncomfortable orange plastic chairs in front of it and a view through grimy windows of the airfield. There was a watercooler, a sluggish ceiling fan churning the hot, humid air and a variety of blown-up aerial photos tacked to the walls. Francesca dumped her bag down and said crisply, ‘I’d like to see whoever is in charge, please.’

The girl, who looked no more than nineteen, blinked and pushed her dark hair back nervously. ‘He’s on the phone at the moment—’ she gestured to an inner doorway behind Francesca ‘—but if you’d care to wait he shouldn’t be too long.’

‘What’s his name?’

The girl blinked again. ‘Stevensen. Mr. Stevensen,’ she said finally.

‘Then perhaps you can help me, if Mr Stevensen is too busy. I need a flight to Brisbane—’

‘Brisbane?’ the girl echoed, her eyes widening, as if the capital of Queensland were located on the moon.

‘Yes, well,’ Francesca said, reflecting that Brisbane was over a thousand miles away. ‘Cairns, then, or at least somewhere where I can get a regular flight. You do fly to Cairns?’

‘We could,’ the girl said cautiously, ‘but I’m afraid I couldn’t arrange anything like that.’

‘Then would you mind letting this Mr Stevensen know that I am here?’

‘Yes. As soon as he finishes his call,’ the girl amended. ‘Would you like to sit down, or perhaps you’d like a glass of water?’

‘Both,’ Francesca said with a grin, and helped herself to a paper cup.

The girl seemed to relax, and she spent a few moments covertly admiring Francesca—her designer jeans and silk shirt, for one thing, and her soft kid tan boots. She gazed at her narrow, elegant hands, and the one ring she wore—an unusual gold signet on her little finger—and the way her toffee hair fell to her shoulders in a beautifully ordered, shining mane. Then she sighed discreetly and picked up the phone.

Francesca listened idly, because there was no point in trying not to, and discovered that the girl was talking to the Acme Employment Agency in Cairns with a view to hiring a governess for the unseen Mr Stevensen’s motherless seven-year-old daughter. It further transpired that his sister, who usually looked after the girl, had broken her wrist and that the job would entail living on a cattle station.