Professor and the Nanny (Silhouette Romance) (2 page)

Well, that was okay. He wanted Nate to make his own decisions for as long as he was able to. If Nate wanted a nurse who was young and easy to look at as well as well trained, then Ethan would at least give Ms. Baldwin a try. After all, he could always let her go if she proved inadequate.

“All right, Dad,” he said agreeably. “If Brittany and I can come to terms, she’s all yours. Now, you turn your game back on and we’ll go in the library and work things out.”

Nate grinned. “Glad to have you on board, missy,” he said, and sat back down.

Ethan involuntarily reached out to take Brittany’s arm again, but then thought better of it. There was no professional reason for him to touch her, and he liked the prickles that traveled up and down his own hand and arm when he did so altogether too much.

He hadn’t counted on hiring such an attractive nurse. Attractive! She was downright beautiful. Her rich, dark brown hair was parted in the middle and hung free to her shoulders with bangs across her forehead. He ached to run his fingers through it and feel its softness. Her eyes were grass-green and looked at him with wide speculation that made his blood rush to his head.
Sexy
wasn’t nearly a strong enough word to describe the way she walked and talked.

But she was also little more than a child. Twenty-one years old. A lot of his students were older than that. Hell, he’d already been fourteen when she was born!

Enough of that
, he thought as he preceded her to the closed door they’d passed earlier and opened it into the library. This was his favorite room, smaller than the others with a brick fireplace, bookshelf-lined walls, a leather sofa, a large mahogany desk and a couple of desk chairs. He could relax in here, renew his energy and prepare his lessons and lectures for upcoming classes.

He found it a good place to try to clear his mind of the unsettling problems and troubling speculations his father’s illnesses had brought with them. He invited Brittany to sit down, then took the chair behind the desk.

“You have a beautiful home,” she said as she looked around. “How I envy you these books. Have you read all of them?”

“Most of them,” he admitted. “The house and antique furnishings were a legacy from my mother. She was a true Southern lady. Impeccable manners and charm were born and bred into her from generations going back to before the Civil War. She inherited the house from her father and in turn passed it on to Dad when she died.”

He leaned forward and put his arms on the desk. “It’s awfully big for just the two of us, and it’s getting more and more expensive to keep up, but we could never sell it.”

“Of course you couldn’t. You and your brother will want to pass it on to your children.” There was sympathy mixed with understanding in her tone.

Much as he appreciated her empathy, she wasn’t here to discuss his problems and he pulled his attention back to the subject at hand. “Do you really want this job, Brittany?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her. “Think carefully before you answer. Given proper attention to his diabetes Nate could live for another twenty years.”

Again she opened her mouth and once more he silenced
her. “No, hear me out. I certainly don’t expect you to spend the next twenty years of your life taking care of us—”

He heard himself say “us” and snapped his mouth shut. That wasn’t what he’d meant! She wouldn’t be hired to look after
him
. Just his father!

He felt the flush that colored his face but decided to ignore it and go on. “That is, I realize you would eventually want to go back to school to get your bachelor of science degree in nursing, or get married and move away, whatever, but I don’t want Nate subjected to a new caretaker every few months. He gets confused enough without adding that to the indignities he has to endure.”

Too late he saw the irritation that contorted her face as she stood and braced her arms with her hands flat on the desk.

“What right do you have to assume that nursing is just a hobby with me?” she asked angrily as he leaned back. “One I can work at when I want to, and walk away from when I don’t?”

He tried to answer but she hurried on. “Is it because I’m young? Well, don’t judge me by the way you may have acted when you were twenty-one. I take my work seriously, and if this is your way of asking if there’s a man in my life the answer is no, there isn’t. As for going back to the university, it will be years before I can afford to do that. I’m still trying to pay off Mom’s and Dad’s bills.”

Ethan was taken aback, but he also jumped up and glared at her across the desk. “Now, just a minute. I wasn’t implying you aren’t good at your job, I just want some assurance that you won’t get bored after a few months and leave Nate for something more exciting—”

“Do you call diabetes and forgetfulness boring?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” he said more softly. “I know firsthand
what a big job it is, but doing the same thing day after day for a sick old man is bound to get monotonous.”

“I don’t think of Nate as a ‘sick old man.”’ Her tone had lowered, too. “I think of him as a man who needs the help that I can provide, and every stride we make forward will be exciting.”

Ethan sank back down in his chair and wasn’t surprised to see his hands shaking. “Please, sit down. I don’t usually get this emotional. It’s probably because I haven’t had to face the gravity of dad’s illness until now. He’s had the diabetes for several years but knew how to take care of himself so there was no problem.

“It was about a year ago that he started having difficulty with his blood sugar, and that’s when we discovered he hadn’t been getting his shots regularly. After a few other tests, the doctor told us Nate had developed the early stages of senility, which often shows up in diabetics, and that was causing him to forget to give himself the injections.”

He ran his hands over his face. This was harder than he’d expected. He suspected he hadn’t really faced his father’s illness before. It was so much easier to hide from it, pretend it was a temporary inconvenience that would eventually go away.

“That’s when I sold my house and moved in here with him so I could monitor him, remind him to take his shots and fix his meals,” he continued, “but there were still the dietary restrictions and the blood tests. Now he’s started wandering off and getting lost. So far I’ve managed to find him without much trouble, but he needs full-time care and I can’t give it to him and still keep my day job, which we need to live on.”

He looked at Brittany and she saw the anguish in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to insult you or imply that you wouldn’t take proper care of him, but I have to be sure the person I hire is reliable, and you’re so young and so beautiful. I can’t believe
you’d be content to put up with the irritation a patient in Nate’s condition can cause.”

Her heart melted at the torment in his voice, and without thinking she got up and walked around the desk to stand beside his chair. “Ethan, I’m well qualified to watch over your father and see to it that he gets his medication.”

She put her hand gently on his slumped shoulder. He was only wearing a lightweight shirt, and she could feel the warmth of his bare skin beneath it. “I think he and I would get along really well together. I like him, and he seems to like me.”

She started to lift her hand away, belatedly aware she was taking a liberty she shouldn’t be, but he reached across his chest and held it where it was. She felt his muscles twitch beneath her palm.

“What’s not to like?” he said hoarsely. “When can you start?”

B
rittany shivered as she stood in front of the open door of the closet in her one-room apartment, clad only in a set of the expensive pastel lingerie her mother had bought her. Not that she was cold. She wasn’t. She was having an attack of nerves.

She’d been so confident of her ability as a medical assistant when under the watchful eye of her instructors, but from today on she’d be alone with her patient, with no one to tell her what to do if something unexpected should happen.

Her gaze traveled over the contents of the closet. What would the Thorpes want her to wear? She hadn’t thought to ask them. Some patients still expected nurses to wear white starched uniforms, but those had gone out of style years ago. In the hospital she wore a white lab coat over green scrubs, but in training for home visits she’d usually donned jeans and a T-shirt under the lab coat. Cleaning up after patients at home could get pretty messy at times.

She finally decided on a beige pantsuit that looked professional and was machine-washable, a necessity in her occupation. Since Nate was more in need of supervision than medical
attention, she’d been designated his caregiver, so she didn’t think he or Ethan would mind if she dressed casually in her own clothes.

Grabbing two freshly laundered lab coats and her medical kit, she hurried out the door and locked it behind her.

Ethan told himself he wasn’t pacing the floor and that he was just wandering around the house while he waited for his dad’s nurse to arrive. However, it felt like pacing to him. A glance at his watch told him Brittany wasn’t late, rather he was early. It was only eight o’clock, and even with commuting time he didn’t have to leave the house until eight-thirty, but he wanted to go over some things with her before he left.

The chime of the bell a few minutes later sent him striding quickly to the door. He opened it and caught his breath. She was even more lovely than he’d remembered. The tan pantsuit she was wearing was strictly tailored, even masculine in its lines, but there was nothing androgynous in the way she filled it out. Her full breasts thrust gently against the material of the blouse, and the curve of her hips under the slacks was definitely not mannish.

It was a good thing they would meet for only a few minutes each day coming and going. He’d never be able to resist the temptation she was stirring in him if it lasted much longer!

“Professor? Is something the matter?” Her voice broke into his musing, and he realized he’d been standing there staring at her like a starstruck teenager.

He blinked and shook his head. “No, please, come in.”

He moved aside to let her pass him, and got a whiff of the aroma of spring flowers. Delicate and pleasing.

“Where’s your dad?” she asked as she deposited her purse and her medical kit on the table in the foyer.

“He’s not up yet,” Ethan said. “Lately I’ve been having to wake him to give him his shot and his breakfast before I leave to go to the university, but that interrupts his rest. Now
that you’ll be coming every morning he can sleep a little longer.”

She smiled. “Fine. I’ll be happy to take over.”

“How about a cup of coffee?” he asked, glancing at his watch even though he knew exactly what time it was. He hoped the gesture would make her think it was a spur-of-the-moment invitation rather than the eagerly thought-out proposal it really was. “I don’t have to leave for a few minutes yet.”

“I’d like that,” Brittany said softly, and walked with him through the kitchen on the left side of the staircase to the small room they called the breakfast room. Ethan had pointed it out to her when he took her on a tour of the house the day he hired her. The sun streaming through the sheer curtains that covered the large windows flooded the area with light and bathed it in an aura of cheerfulness.

There was a round table and four chairs in the middle of the room, and two other chairs in the corners. A chest-high breakfast bar separated the two rooms, and potted tropical plants added shafts of color.

The electric coffeemaker was set up on the bar counter, and Ethan stopped to pour coffee into the mugs while Brittany pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Cream and sugar?” he asked.

“Black,” she told him, and he brought the two cups to the table and sat down beside her.

“I’ve left a list of phone numbers you can call for help if anything should go wrong,” he told her. “Mine at the university is at the top, of course, but there’s also Dad’s doctor, the next-door neighbors on either side of us and, as a last resort, my brother and his wife in New Orleans.”

“Thank you, I’m glad to have those,” she said. “I’m also interested in knowing what his limitations are aside from his occasional confusion. Can I take him out for rides or walks, or maybe a shopping trip?”

“Oh, sure, he loves to get out,” Ethan assured her. “That’s
one of the biggest problems I’ve had with him lately. When he’s here alone he goes out and then can’t find his way back home.”

A voice from behind Brittany startled them both. It was Nate’s. “Ethan, you got any idea what time it is? Why didn’t you wake me up? You’re gonna be late….”

Brittany turned in her chair to look at him standing there in his rumpled pajamas, hair tousled, and an emerging twenty-four-hour beard.

He saw her at the same time and his eyes opened wide with shock. “Damn,” he bellowed, “why didn’t you tell me we had company?”

Nate crossed his arms over his chest and bent at the waist in an attempt to cover himself.

“She isn’t company, Dad, this is the woman I hired for you—”

“You got me a woman!” he sputtered in disbelieving amazement. “Look, son, I may be gettin’ older but I can still find my own girlfriends.”

Brittany couldn’t help it, she put her head back and laughed gleefully. Not that the fact Nate didn’t remember her was funny, but the looks on both his and Ethan’s faces were hilarious.

“No!” Ethan said, frustration mixed with compassion in his tone. “This is Brittany. She’s going to be your nurse-companion?”

She saw the confusion in Nate’s expression, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to give in to it.

“Well, my memory’s not so good,” he admitted, “but you got to admit my taste is impeccable.” He winked at her and put out his hand. “Welcome, young lady. Please pardon my get-up, but it’s not often I find a beautiful woman at my breakfast table.”

She put her hand in his and chuckled. “That’s hard to believe and, please, call me Brittany.”

He squeezed her hand and released it. “That’s a pretty name. Almost as pretty as the girl who bears it.”

Brittany tampered down the ire she always felt when called a ‘girl.’ After all, this man could be forgiven. He was of another generation when that title was both common and acceptable. “Thank you, Mr. Thorpe, but I’m no longer a ‘girl.’ I’m twenty-one years old. Old enough to drink hard liquor and vote.”

She caught the impish glee in his eyes even before he spoke. “Not at the same time, I hope.”

They both chuckled, and Ethan joined in as he pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “Now that we all have our identities straightened out, I’ve got to leave.”

Brittany stood up, too, and both she and Nate walked to the door with Ethan. When they got there he turned to Brittany. “The list of phone numbers I told you about is in the library on my desk. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

“I won’t,” she said as he let himself out.

When he was gone she turned to Nate. “Do you want me to give you your blood test and injection now or would you rather wait until you’ve dressed and shaved?”

He grimaced. “I don’t need you to do that for me. I can do it myself.”

She wasn’t surprised at his resistance. He’d probably be more amenable after she’d been taking care of him for a while.

“Is that the way you prefer to do it?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“All right,” she said agreeably, “but you’ll have to walk me through it the first time so I can make sure you’re doing it right. It’s just a precaution.”

She knew it would be easier to get his cooperation if he thought he was doing her a favor.

“Sure. We keep all the stuff in the first-floor bath.” He turned and they walked together to the large Victorian-style
bathroom, complete with a free-standing claw-footed tub and a commode that flushed with a chain.

Nate opened a wooden cabinet and took out the paraphernalia he needed, then stuck the end of his finger and pricked out a little blood with a sterilized needle to test on the glucose monitor. Everything there was okay so he filled the syringe and gave himself the injection in the stomach.

He’d been right. He was very good at this. If only he could remember to do it as often as required.

“Mr. Thorpe, can you—” she started to say, but he cut her off.

“Hold on there, missy, you don’t like to be called a girl, and I’m not all that hot about bein’ called an old man—”

Brittany gasped. “I never—”

“Oh, I know you’re too polite to actually say it, but why do you have to keep calling me ‘Mr. Thorpe’? It’s so formal. My first name is Nate. Any reason why you can’t call me that?”

She grinned. “None at all, Nate. Now, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed while I fix breakfast. Remember, you have to eat within half an hour after taking the shot or you’re apt to get woozy. I don’t want you tumbling down that magnificent staircase.”

He chuckled. “I’ll bet you’re used to having men fall for you,” he teased.

Things went very well for the next two weeks. Nate didn’t forget who she was again and greeted her enthusiastically each morning when she arrived. They enjoyed each other’s company and got along just fine all day, but it was a different scenario with Ethan. He left as soon as she arrived at the house, and was coolly polite when he got home.

It seemed obvious that he didn’t especially like her, but why? He never complained about her work. At times during the few minutes of their comings and goings he even complimented
her on how well his father was doing under her care, so why wasn’t he more friendly?

If he had a girlfriend there was no evidence of it. The only family photographs in the house were one of Ethan’s infant son, Danny, an adorable little tyke, which was displayed on the fireplace mantel in the family room, and one of Nate’s late wife, Sybil, Ethan’s mother, which Nate kept on his nightstand in his bedroom.

She wished Ethan would ask her to stay and visit sometimes. Maybe even invite her to dinner. She knew they did quite a bit of barbecuing in the evenings, but in the two weeks she’d been there they’d never mentioned having dinner guests.

Then, on the Thursday of the second week, a few minutes before Ethan was due home, the doorbell rang. Brittany, who had been rinsing dishes in the sink, grabbed a towel and headed for the foyer, but Nate beat her to the front door. He opened it and she saw his shoulders stiffen as he said, “Hannah? What are you doing here? Where’s the baby?”

Brittany stopped in her tracks. Hannah? Baby? Could this be Ethan’s ex-wife and their son?

Brittany stood there listening to a woman’s voice coming from outside. “He’s out in the car. Can you help me bring some things in?”

“Sure,” Nate said, and walked out the door where Brittany could no longer see or hear them.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she put down the towel and walked over to the open doorway. There she saw a white minivan with the side door open parked at the curb in front of the house. Inside was a child strapped into a car seat and a blond, statuesque woman wearing designer jeans and T-shirt and loading Nate down with various items of baby furniture.

What was going on here? Nate shouldn’t be burdened with all those heavy and ungainly items. He might stumble and fall!

Without hesitation she hurried out the door and across the
lawn to the curb to confront him. “Nate, don’t try to carry all that stuff at once. Let me help you.”

The sound of her voice apparently surprised the woman, who had been leaning in the van to retrieve several suitcases. She backed out and glared at Brittany.

“Who are you?” she asked gruffly.

“I’m Brittany Baldwin, Mr. Thorpe’s caregiver, and you are…?” She wasn’t going to let this woman intimidate her. She took her orders from Ethan and no one else.

“I’m Hannah Thorpe,” she said sharply, then turned her attention again to Nate. “When did you get a caregiver, Nate?”

He shrugged. “It was after the last time you were here. She takes real good care of me.”

Hannah looked Brittany up and down. “I’ll bet she does.” Her tone was venomous. “Takes real good care of your son, too, I should imagine. I figured it wouldn’t be long before Ethan would take up with some other woman, but I expected her to be full grown.”

Brittany gasped. “Now, wait just a darn minute—” she started to protest, but Hannah was already halfway up the driveway to the house with the suitcases.

Brittany and Nate followed close behind with the pieces of baby furniture.

“Why are you bringing all this stuff over here?” Nate asked as they set their burdens down in the foyer. “We’ve got all we need to take care of Danny for his weekend visits.”

“Tell you later,” she said as she turned and hurried outside again, Nate and Brittany not far behind.

They all reached the van at the same time and again Hannah spoke to Nate. “You and Florence Nightingale here can finish emptying the van and I’ll get Danny.”

Brittany bristled at the mockery in the other woman’s tone but saw no point in pressing the issue.

Hannah climbed inside the vehicle and started unbuckling
the baby from the car seat while Brittany and Nate waited for her to finish so they could get in to retrieve the other articles.

While they stood there waiting, Ethan’s car turned into the driveway and he got out. “What’s going on?” he asked as Hannah backed out of the van with the toddler in her arms. “This isn’t my weekend to have Danny.”

“It is now,” she said crisply, and held the child out to him. “Here, take him. He’s heavy.”

Ethan took his son and nuzzled him playfully on the neck. He was an adorable child with blond curly hair and sparkling blue eyes. “Hi, guy,” Ethan said as he lifted the kicking and giggling little one over his head. “To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?”