Nanny (5 page)

Cara heard a
click,
and the deep voice of the man she loved filled the air. “Don't tell me something's come up again. You promised you'd pick out a dress tonight, Counselor, and I'm holding you to that.”

No wonder he was called The Voice. Cara loved the rich bass roll of his voice and the emotion he'd never been afraid to show.

He would make a wonderful president, she thought numbly.

“We'll talk about the dress tonight, Tate. First I need to speak to you. Since I'm near your apartment, I was hoping you could meet me a little early.” She prayed he wouldn't hear the lie.

“That's the best offer I've had in months.” His voice fell. “If you're planning to spend the night, it will be the best offer I've had in a decade.”

Cara tried to ignore the sharp stab of desire, mixed as it always was with the ache of tenderness. They were so perfect for each other—both overachievers, both products of tense households ruled by demanding mothers. Of course, Tate's home had been on an exclusive street in Pacific Heights and Cara's in a run-down row house near the Oakland docks. Tate had received a new BMW for his high school graduation, while Cara had received a bill for the first of many college tuition payments.

She closed her eyes.
Forgive me, Tate.

“Honey, are you okay?” Tate Winslow's voice hardened. “I heard about the Costello appeal. Has something happened? If so, I'll send someone to—”

“I'm fine, Tate. I just—I miss you.” This much was true, without question. If a whole day passed without the sound of his voice, Cara felt as if a physical part of her were missing. “So ditch the policy wonks and get yourself over here.” She struggled for a tone of light seduction. “If you find a trail of lingerie scattered over the floor, don't worry. It's just another lovesick California constituent who's desperate for some hands-on advocacy.”

“A smart senator always pleases his constituents. I'll be there in eleven minutes,” he said huskily. “Assuming that I don't get pulled over by S.F.'s finest for a moving violation. Hold on a sec.” He murmured a few words and she heard a door close. “Just cancelled two phone calls. Now I can be there in eight minutes. Honey, are you sure nothing's wrong? What's that sound I hear?”

Her heart breaking, Cara thought. Like dry stalks in a dry wind. “Just a truck going by. You really should tackle the urban noise issue, Senator. It would give you major voter points.” She was crying as she got out of her car, tears cold and slick on her cheeks. A woman with spiky orange hair walked past, staring at her curiously.

“I'll pass your concern on to Greg. He sends his regards, by the way, and says he can't wait to see you and the girls.”

“Your brother is far too smooth for his own good.”

“Don't I know it. But with you, he actually means the compliments. And he really is crazy about the girls. So is my mother, who promises she'll drop by with that Ming Dynasty Chinese bowl for the reception.” Tate sounded breathless. “Make that six minutes. It will be faster for me to walk in all this traffic. Add sixty seconds so I can stop for roses at the corner.”

“No roses.” Cara brushed vainly at her wet cheeks. “You've already given me too many gifts, Tate.”

“The hell I have. You send them all back.” The junior senator from California sounded out of breath. “Almost at Geary Street.”

Cara had dried her face by the time she reached Tate's building. She waved to his doorman, then took the elevator up to the twelfth floor. In the sunny living room, she dropped her jacket and kicked off her shoes.
One more time,
she thought.
To remember him—and how close we came to happiness.
“I'll be waiting, Senator. I'll be the naked woman sprawled across your bed.”

“Hanging up now.” The phone clicked off. Minutes later a key rattled in the lock.

Tate Winslow opened the door and studied the trail of clothes that led across the floor into his bedroom. “If these clothes belong to a prior tenant, I'm going to be extremely disappointed.”

“Come on in and find out.”

Cara's voice caught as he stood in the doorway, afternoon sunlight touching his ruggedly handsome face. She already saw changes there, lines of strain from too many late meetings and too many people who wanted a piece of his soul.

She raised one bare foot from beneath the covers. “I hope those phone calls you missed weren't too important.”

“They're all important. Wetlands conservation. Dwindling tax base. My mother says all I do is talk on the phone, do you know that? But the right word at the right time can make all the difference when—” He frowned. “Hell, Cara, you don't want to hear about my problems now.”

The silk comforter fell to the floor. She pushed to one elbow, all smooth skin and teasing eyes. “You have one problem that I'm going to take care of, Senator.”

“In a minute you'll have me on my knees, honey.” Tate tossed down his jacket, and his belt went flying. “I don't see you for two days and it feels like a year.”

Cara considered the best way to distract him from his worries. “You mentioned a flower delivery?”

A huge bundle of roses appeared from behind his back. “Right here, ma'am. Do I rate a tip?”

“You bet.” She gripped his tie and pulled him closer, all teasing gone. “I need you inside me. Right now.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Please, Tate.”
One last time.

She closed her eyes, hiding the sadness he wouldn't miss.

The force of his body came as a shock, pinning her against the sheets while his hands circled her waist. Whispering her name, he shoved aside the sheet and studied her full breasts. “God help me, I'll never get enough of you.”

She was already aroused, already slick and restless with desire, and his fingers made her gasp with pleasure. “Now,” she said hoarsely, pushing up against him. “Don't talk, Tate. Don't think. Just
do
it.”

His clothes dropped in layers and then he pulled her astride him. Cara closed her eyes as his fingers found her with unerring skill. He pinned her hips and filled her in one deep thrust, taking her with brooding urgency.

For one blind moment the threats were gone, the worries forgotten. She gasped his name, shocked at the speed and intensity of the climax that ripped through her. She was barely aware of him watching her.

When she finally opened her eyes, he began the whole process again, until they both lay sweaty and exhausted, with the covers tangled around them and the faint scent of perfume drifting from the roses scattered over the floor.

 

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

Hard fingers trailed over Cara's face, but she didn't open her eyes.

It was too soon for words. She needed to prepare, to close her heart, which was still racing from the amazing sex she'd just had.

No, not sex. Something far deeper and infinitely more complex.

The skin at her neck prickled, and she looked down to see three diamonds glittering against her skin, strung like tears from a silver chain.

“For your wedding dress.” Tate smiled uncertainly. “If you want different stones or something bigger, you can exchange these. I already spoke to the jeweler about that. The girls thought they were just right.”

“You showed them to Sophy and Audra?”

“I figured it was a girl thing. They know you better than anyone, plus they're brutally honest, the way only kids can be.”

The stones were clear and bright, like the old yearnings Cara couldn't suppress. “They're perfect, Tate.” Suddenly the diamonds felt unbearably cold. “But they're far too expensive.”

“To hell with expense. I'm not getting married ever again—and neither are you, if I can help it.”

Something tore at her throat.
Be hard,
she thought.
Do it now.

“I can't take them.” She pressed the chain into his hand and stood up. Behind her the phone rang, but neither moved. Tate cursed at the sound of his assistant's voice on the answering machine.

“Sorry to disturb you, Senator.” There was a discreet cough. “I'm afraid that call you've been waiting for just came through from London.”

Tate ran a hand through his hair. “I need to return this one, Cara. It will only take me ten minutes, then we can talk.”

The call made it easier.

She nodded calmly and picked up her clothes. “I have to shower. Don't hurry for me.”

He was staring at her, a puzzled look on his face. “What's wrong?”

Cara picked up her overturned shoes and studied them dispassionately. “Nothing.”
Everything.
“It's been a long day, that's all. Make your call, please.”

Standing beneath the hot spray of the shower a few minutes later, Cara locked her arms and took in long, shuddering breaths. It wasn't normal to feel so much, to know someone simply by the echo of a footstep or the brush of his hand. It had to be unnatural that the air felt charged and seemed to dance whenever he was close.

She tried to believe that. It helped her to steel her resolve.

She had locked the door, and it rattled now.

“Cara? Damn it, what's wrong?”

She was fully dressed when she opened the door. Her hair was brushed smooth, glistening where it was caught back in a rubber band, and her cheeks were pale beneath their careful makeup. “I have to go, Tate.”

“Go?” He stared at her, taking in her fully buttoned suit, the purse on her shoulder. “I don't understand. You have to pick out your dress tonight. You know it's your last chance. Otherwise, they won't guarantee the work will be done in time.”

Oh, the insidious stab of weakness.

The pain of letting go of so many dreams.

“It doesn't matter, Tate. I won't be needing the dress after all.” Cara turned, drawing her hands behind her back.
Don't let him see,
she prayed.
Above all, don't let him argue.
“Not today. Not next week.”

“I don't understand,” he repeated. “Do you have to work late again? Is this something to do with the Costello appeal?”

“It has nothing to do with work.” Cara hardened her voice, closed her heart. “It's over between us.” She forced out the awful words like pits from a bitter fruit. “I'm sorry, Tate, but I can't marry you. The wedding is off.”

chapter
6

W
hen Summer reached the aquarium, Audra was nowhere to be seen.

 Frowning, she checked with the nearest guard. “School group number three finished fifteen minutes ago, ma'am.” He studied a column on his clipboard. “Their bus just left. Number twenty-three.”

“Have you seen their student docent? Small girl, brown hair. She was wearing a red jacket and a black shirt.”

“You mean Audra O'Connor? Sure, I saw her. She took group three today.” The guard shoved back his hat. “Come to think of it, I haven't seen her around since the tour finished.”

Years of training snapped into place as Summer motioned to Sophy. “Stay beside me, honey. Stay very close.” She scanned the room, searching for dark hair and a bright red jacket. “We've got to find Audra.” She held out an aquarium map to the guard, noting his name and badge number. “Please show me the route the tour took.” Her voice fell. “And this is no rehearsal, Simon. I'll need three of your guards to patrol the other floors. Please give a radio description to all staff members, too.” Her voice was crisp. “How many other exits?”

“Loading and Receiving. There's the rear deck facing the ocean, but—”

“Alert them all, and give them Audra's description.” Summer was already shaping a field plan, sorting through her options. Most would involve approval of the aquarium director. “I need to speak with your head of security.”

The guard looked worried as he traced the tour route and handed the map back to Summer. “You don't think—I mean, her mother told the museum director about what's been going on, but—”

Summer cut him off, glancing down at Sophy. “Call me on my cell phone with any news, Simon. And give your security director my number.” She rattled off a string of numbers.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Summer was at the far stairs when he called her back, his walkie-talkie raised to his ear.

“I'd better take you upstairs myself, Ms. Mulvaney.”

“Did you find Audra?”

“No, ma'am, but we found her red jacket.” His face was grim. “A guard noticed it behind a bench near the sea-otter tank.”

“Simon, get people on the exit doors immediately.” Summer had a cold feeling in her stomach as she tried Audra's cell phone. Again there was no answer.

“What's going on?” Sophy demanded. “Why is everyone frowning? Audra's late all the time.”

“It's probably nothing, honey, but let's you and I check things out. Just like in
Mission Impossible.
”

“Cool. Let's go.” Sophy skipped toward the stairs, too young and protected to understand that life didn't always deal out Hollywood-style happy endings.

 

Tate Winslow stared at the woman he had loved irrationally since even before their first date in law school. “What's wrong, Cara? Talk to me.”

“There's very little to say.” Her shoulders were a stiff, unrelenting line. “Several new cases are taking far more time than I imagined, and two of our staff are out on leave. The girls need me, too, with their new nanny coming.”

She sounded exhausted, Tate realized. She'd been tired before, but never like this, as if she couldn't find enough energy to focus.

Fool that he was, he hadn't seen it until now.

“You can turn the Costello appeal over to Tony or Tristan. Either one would take it in a second.”

Cara's eyes hardened. “The day I can't do my job is the day I quit.”

“It isn't professional failure to step back and take a breather now and again,” Tate said quietly. “Maybe it's time you dropped the pace a little. You've been working twelve hour days since I first met you.”

She had been sorting linens at the college laundry, her hands moving fast and expertly. Her face was flushed, her clothes sweaty, and Tate had loved her at first sight. So had most of the male students in the law-school dorm. The linen service had had a huge run on towels that week.

She had created quite a stir when she had shown up with black boots and sleek black jeans in the front row of Contracts I the following Monday. The first week she had twenty offers for dinner and a study date, but she turned them all down—including Tate's.

After that, the queue in the linen service had wound down the hall and out to the street. Tate had been somewhere in the middle.

“Talk to me, Cara.”

“There's nothing to discuss.” She sounded calm, at least on the surface. “My decision is made.”

“Last time I checked, there were two of us involved in this wedding. I'd say that gives me the right to ask a few questions when you try to call it off.”

“I can't discuss this now. The girls are expecting me for dessert, summer school–homework check and bedtime stories.”

Her face was pale. Did Tate imagine it or was there a hint of fear amid the exhaustion there?

“Is it your boss? I know he's been giving you hell. If so, I can make a few calls.”

“I don't want or need special favors. You of all people should know that.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, it was worth a try.”

Cara didn't smile. “I've got to go.” When she reached for the door, Tate cut her off. “I'm not letting you leave. You're working too damned hard, Cara.”

“And
you
aren't? You're the one with back-to-back breakfast meetings, thirteen-hour days, and power naps in the limo on the way to another policy meeting.”

“That's different.”

“Why? Because you're a man and I'm just a little ole woman who belongs at home in the kitchen anyway?”

“You know that's not what I meant.” Tate held down his anger. She was baiting him, but try as he might, he couldn't figure out why. “I only meant that you're worn out. No one works well in a state of exhaustion.”

“You do.”

“I get by,” he said roughly. “And I get by because I'm thinking about a woman with soft skin and crooked eyebrows. A woman who tells me straight when I screw up. A woman I mean to make my wife, in front of our families and closest friends, then disappear somewhere and make love to her until neither of us can stand up and walk.”

She closed her eyes. “Don't. This is already hard enough.”

“Then talk to me, damn it.” Tate gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Tell me what you're afraid of, Cara. We'll work it out together, whatever it is.”

“Not this time.” The words were a whisper.

Tate heard the sound of regret—and terrible pain. In that moment, he realized he was losing her.

Her cell phone pealed twice from inside her purse. She still insisted on using the tune from
Gilligan's Island
so she could recognize her calls amid all the others in public places.

“Hello?”

Tate watched her face change.

“When?”
Blindly she grabbed for the door. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“What is it, Cara?” He put a hand on her shoulder, another on the door. “Damn it, tell me.”

Her fingers trembled as she slid the phone into her pocket. “It's Audra. Today's her docent day at the aquarium.” Her voice broke. “No one can find her. She's gone.”

Tate pushed her into a chair and grabbed his shirt. “I'll drive you to Monterey.”

“There's no need. My car's parked outside.”

“Damn it, I'm driving you.” Tate worked hard to hold back his anger. “There's no further discussion.” He tucked in his shirt while he looked for his shoes. “I'll get a police escort to save time.”

This time she didn't protest his interference.

“My car will be waiting in front by the time we get downstairs.”

She nodded jerkily. “They're searching the aquarium now.” Her hands locked. “What if they don't find her? What if someone—”

“Don't.” Tate pointed to the nearby phone. “Call Margo and tell her what's happened. Tell her I'll be in touch when I can.”

He was dialing his cell phone as he disappeared into the bedroom.

 

“No sign of her on the third floor, Ms. Mulvaney.” A guard with thinning hair met them at the stairwell outside the kelp tank. “I checked with people at all the exits, and no one saw her go out.”

“What about the front?”

“That could be a problem.” He looked down at Sophy and lowered his voice. “The regular guard was sick today. The replacement worker just left ten minutes ago, and no one's been able to reach him.”

“Keep trying, please.” Summer studied the floor plan. “What about the rooms over here?”

“Private offices, ma'am. Administration mostly.”

“Has anyone checked them?”

“I don't believe so. I'll get someone on that right away.” He turned away, his radio squeaking.

Sophy tugged at Summer's arm. “Why are you so upset? Audra's probably in the cafeteria sneaking a cup of coffee or flirting with that cool new boy who started working there.”

Summer motioned to the guard. “Maybe you should check the cafeteria. Try the restrooms, too.” She tapped on the map. “Meanwhile, we'll start here and work our way clockwise, room by room.”

“You think Audra's hurt or something?” Sophy's eyes were huge and unblinking.

“Don't worry, honey. She was probably confused and went to the wrong place.” Summer checked her watch. “I have to phone your mom again.”

“She'll be so frightened,” Sophy said gravely. “She worries a lot lately. She tries to hide it, but we can still tell.”

So much for fooling the kids,
Summer thought. As they crossed the corridor, she dialed Cara O'Connor's cell phone.

Cara answered on the second ring, sounding breathless.

“Ms. Mulvaney here. We're checking the building now. So far no one has seen her leave.”

“Thank God. Did you try the cafeteria? She sometimes sneaks coffee from a nice young man who works in there.”

Summer smiled slightly. “Sophy just told me that, so I sent someone to have a look. Don't worry, ma'am. We'll find her.”

“We'll be there as fast as we can. How is Sophy?”

“Just fine. Would you like to speak with her?”

“Please.”

Sophy took the phone eagerly. “Don't worry, Mom. Ms. Mulvaney and I will find her. She's probably sitting on a bench somewhere playing her Walkman.” Sophy listened for several moments, then nodded. “Yes, I'll stay with Ms. Mulvaney. She told me that, too.” She looked up at Summer. “I like her, Mom. She's nice—and wait till I tell you about my ballet class. Okay. I love you, too. Bye, now.”

She handed the phone back to Summer. “I'm glad the senator's with her. She sounds upset.”

Summer smoothly guided Sophy behind her before she pushed open the door to the women's bathroom. A mother with a baby in a carrier was washing her hands at a sink, and two teenagers were combing their hair. Otherwise, the room was empty. After checking each stall, Summer headed to the next room. With every minute that passed, the possibility of foul play grew.

A woman in a museum uniform met them down the corridor. “Are you Ms. Mulvaney?”

“That's right. Any news?”

“No, this area's all clear. I covered every inch. One of the guards brought up her jacket for you.”

Summer took the coat, shoving down a stab of disappointment. “Thank you.”

“I'll carry it,” Sophy said gravely. “Audra always leaves things lying around.” She folded the jacket, frowning. “I don't think she was going down to the cafeteria or the gift shop, though.” She ran a hand over the red fabric. “I think she was meeting someone.”

Summer nodded at the guard. “We'll check, honey.”

“No.” Sophy didn't look up. “Not up here. I think she—”

Sophy was cut short by the whine of the guard's radio. “We have the girl. Repeat, we
have
the girl.”

Summer said a silent prayer of thanks. “Is she hurt? Do you know her status?”

The guard nodded. “She's fine. They're on the way up now.”

Audra appeared at the far end of the floor, looking pale and anxious, and Sophy immediately charged toward her. Summer followed, scanning the area for any undue interest shown by the half a dozen people scattered among the marine exhibits.

A female guard motioned to Summer. “She was in a restroom on the ground floor. Said she met a girlfriend after the tour. The two of them were in there talking, and she says she didn't realize the time.”

Summer noted the woman's name and badge number. “Thank you for all your help. I'll call her mother, then have a word with your head of security. I'm sorry for the trouble.”

“Just glad it was a false alarm. Everyone is jumpy these days. I'll call off the search.”

Summer watched the two girls, leaning close in a bar of late-afternoon sunlight. Audra was as tense and closed off as her younger sister was full of innocent enthusiasm, but different or not, the bond between them was deep.

Audra waited stiffly as Summer walked closer. “I-I'm sorry, Ms. Mulvaney. I didn't realize how late it was. I didn't think that being a few minutes late would matter.”

“Twenty minutes is not a few minutes.” Summer was halfway into an angry speech when she caught herself. Punishment was for Audra's mother to set. Right now Summer had to handle damage control.

As the aquarium's security director appeared, Summer frowned at Audra. “You've made trouble for quite a lot of people. You could help by apologizing to some of them.”

Audra flushed. “Oh, all right. Even though I think you're all making a big, stupid deal out of
nothing.
” She faced the security director squarely and made a credible apology, then thanked him for his concern. Summer was struck by her aplomb as she turned to thank two other guards.