Shotgun Nanny (10 page)

A moment of panic speared him. What would he do without Annie? He was already down one guard dog. He had to find a way to stop Annie from quitting. He wracked his brain.

Could he flatter her into staying?

Beg

her?

Change the outgoing code so she’d never get out of the house?

He’d start with flattery, he decided, and move on from there if he had to. He paused as he began assembling a tray of wine and glasses, remembering the sight of her grazed knee. Before he started on flattery, he’d better apply first aid.

It made an odd collection, once he had everything assembled in his rarely used sunken living room. A good bottle of wine, glasses, some slices of pizza on a plate, a first-aid kit. She was probably feeling the way he used to after a difficult arrest. Not only tired, but bruised. The way she’d been rubbing her shoulder, she could have strained the muscles. He went back and dug out the rubbing alcohol.

He put a jazz CD on, soft and soothing in the background. Then paused.

Would she think he was trying to seduce her?

He couldn’t take any chances that she might misinterpret his intention. Irritably he jabbed the button, choking the sultry singer in mid croon.

He grabbed all the stuff and stomped to the familiar shabbiness of the family room.

And tried to think up something to say that would make her stay.

When she came into the room half an hour later, he still hadn’t thought of anything. He glanced up, hoping inspiration would hit him, and noticed she was wearing the same multicoloured dress she’d worn the day he met her. Had she dressed up? For him? Damn. Maybe he should have stayed in the living room, after all.

She winced as she walked, lifting the hem of her dress impatiently until it was several inches above her knee, where the grazed skin was inflamed. “Ouch. I can’t stand to have anything touch it.”

“Don’t you have a bathrobe?”

“Yep. It’s somewhere in Spain. Madrid, maybe, or Barcelona. I never did figure out where I left it.” She shrugged. “I never replaced it. It’s just one less thing to lose.”

What kind of woman didn’t want a bathrobe? he asked himself. A woman who didn’t want to be encumbered, that’s who. A woman who would look at him and his lifestyle and see one big encumbrance.

She sat down, and he shifted an ottoman under her outstretched leg.

“First things first,” he said, gesturing to the bottle on the table. “Red all right? Or I’ve got white in the fridge.”

“Red’s

great.”

He poured each of them a glass of Merlot and let her take a sip before clicking open his first-aid kit and dropping to his knees on the floor at her feet.

An amused smile flickered across her face as he cleaned, creamed and bandaged her knee. He did his level best not to notice how warm and soft her skin felt beneath his hand or to see the little patch of goose bumps that rose when he applied the antiseptic lotion.

Once he’d covered the grazed skin with a bandage, he couldn’t smell the antiseptic anymore. Only Annie. And she smelled so good, warm and still damp from her bath. He caught the scent of tropical fruits and the nearer scent of woman.

He gently lifted the foot he’d seen her limping on and studied the sole. “What’s this red patch?” he asked, concerned.

“Bubble gum,” came the succinct reply. “I had to scrub with a nail brush to get it all off.”

“Ouch. You’ve got a few slivers here, too.” He shuffled through his first-aid kit.

“What are you planning on doing with that needle? And those tweezers?”

He grinned at her. “Drink some more wine. You won’t feel a thing.”

“That’s what my first boyfriend said,” she mumbled.

Deciding the safest response to that was none, he got to work, carefully digging splinters out of her foot. Apart from a little squirming and some mild whining, she let him get on with the job.

She had very nice feet. Not shapely like a dancer’s, more broad and sensible, like a woman who does a lot of walking. Or running. The pads were firm and a little callused, the toes square and somehow sexy.

And he tried to forget all about the long, luscious legs they were attached to.

“That was a good thing you did. Letting Emily keep the dog.”

He glanced up, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. “It was moronic.”

Her gaze locked with his, and a sweet smile lit up her face. “No, it wasn’t. Losing Kitsu would have broken her heart.”

“That dog is a completely useless protector.”

She tilted her head. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s safe to say we’ll be protected from marauding squirrels with evil intentions.”

He allowed himself a stiff grin and, putting her foot gently on the floor, flopped to the couch beside her. “It’s not squirrels I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about everything from unfriendly aliens to the bogeyman.”

A spurt of righteous anger filled his gut. “I promised her mother—”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it. Do you think her mother meant for you to wrap that child up in cotton wool and never let her experience life?”

Dull anger kept him silent.

“Do

you?”

More

silence.

“Life is risk, Mark. You’re not helping Emily, keeping her trapped in this fortress. You’ve got to let her live.”

“Mighty fine talk from a woman who’s so scared of commitment she doesn’t even own a bathrobe.”

He had the dubious satisfaction of knowing he’d managed to make Annie as mad as she’d made him. Her cheeks flushed, and she glared. “What does my bathrobe have to do with anything?”

“It’s just so easy for you to waltz in here for a few weeks, load me up with advice and waltz out. I’ll be seeing Emily into adulthood. I doubt you’ll make it through the week.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. With shock, he noticed her eyes fill with tears. Her head drooped, and she said sadly, “You’re right. I guess things aren’t working out that well.”

Belatedly he remembered he was supposed to be flattering her to make her stay, and here he was damned well taunting her to leave. What was Plan B again? Oh, yeah. Beg.

She drew a deep breath. “Mark, I—”

He had to stop her before she quit. He had to. He grabbed her hand. “Please. Don’t let Emily down. She really needs you. It’s just a few more weeks until Bea gets back.”

She shook her head sadly. “I don’t think—”

“I only let that useless dog stay because I knew I could count on you.”
Liar.

It worked, though. Her eyes opened wide. “You did?”

“Yes, ma’am.” And in a way, he realized it was true. Annie would do her best to look after Emily. He just wasn’t convinced her best was good enough.

“Well…”

He could tell he needed to give her something more than flattering words to prove how much he trusted her. He gulped. “I’ll take the outgoing code off the door.”

“You will?” Amazement shone in her eyes. He wasn’t surprised. He was amazed himself. What was he doing?

“Sure. I’ll have one of the guys come in and rewire it.”

She smiled at him, a perky, provocative little smile that reminded him how cute she was and that her skirt was still pulled halfway up her thighs. “And I’ll try harder to call in on time.”

“Deal.” He shook the much smaller hand he was still holding.

“And this is for letting Em keep Kitsu,” she said, then leaned forward impulsively and kissed his cheek.

At the feel of those soft, sweet lips brushing his face, something happened. It was as though all the plucking splinters and dressing wounds had been an unusual, but very effective, form of foreplay.

For the moment her lips touched his cheek, he was lost. The soft brush of moist skin was as erotic as the most brazen caress. He’d been as restrained and as circumspect as any Canadian Mountie could be. But underneath, he was still a red-blooded male, and if the lady was going to start kissing him, well…

Her lips hovered for a moment, leaving his cheek but not pulling away. Not yet.

He tugged the hand he was still holding and she tumbled against his chest with a little coo of satisfaction. He turned his head, and she turned hers until their mouths met. Hungrily.

8

ALL THE pent-up urges he’d been suppressing roared to life. He wanted to crush her body against him, but knowing she’d been battered by her little walk in the park with Kitsu, he held her gently, crushing only her lips beneath his.

She didn’t seem to mind the crushed lips. In fact, she pushed her body closer to his until he couldn’t restrain himself any longer and pulled her in tight. As her breasts flattened against his chest, he was glad for once that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The natural feel of the flesh plastered to his chest and the two points tormenting him as she moved herself against him were wildly exciting.

All the sensible reasons they shouldn’t be doing this were as easily crushed as her lips beneath his. She opened her mouth to him, and he didn’t need a second invitation. Plunging his tongue inside, he found her hot and sweet. As intoxicating as the red wine he could taste on her tongue.

A low, rhythmic thumping came to his attention. It was too slow to be the beating of his heart. He pulled himself reluctantly away from Annie’s mouth and glanced around to see Kitsu’s tail thumping the floor in greeting. His muzzle pointed to the doorway where Mark was just in time to see a flash of white that looked suspiciously like his niece’s nightdress.

“Emily?” he called softly.

No

answer.

Annie sat up, her eyes huge as she, too, stared toward the doorway. “Do you think she saw us?” she whispered.

“It’s a distinct possibility,” he admitted, and swore softly. He was always so careful. Not that his love life had seen much action since Emily moved in with him, but what there was had always been conducted elsewhere. His nanny had a way of making him lose his head so badly he felt like smacking it against the wall to try to scramble his brain into shape.

“I could go up and talk to her.” Annie sounded full of doubt. Her hand crept to her ear, and she started fiddling with the array of silver earrings.

He tried to recall what he’d read in all those childrearing books about how to handle situations like this, but he came up blank and decided to go with his gut instinct.

“Let’s just leave it for now. We don’t know that she even saw anything. If she brings the subject up, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“You will?” Annie sounded shocked.

“Sure, why not? It won’t be something I’ll look forward to, but if she has questions, she deserves straight answers.”

“My dad…” She stared at the dog, snoozing on the rug.

“Your dad what?” he asked, sinking back on the couch, knowing his niece had doused his plans for the evening. And a good thing, too. He must have been out of his mind to consider sleeping with Annie, a woman who abandoned men like bathrobes. Still, he was only human, and his body ached for her. If he couldn’t make love to her, at least he could talk to her, and the serious tone of her voice told him she was thinking about something important.

“My dad never did any of the difficult jobs in our house. That was always my mom.”

“When you say difficult, you’re not talking about taking out the garbage, are you?”

She laughed softly. “No. My dad’s the most fun person I know, but he can’t take responsibility. My mom had to do everything from manage the family finances, which weren’t pretty, to the discipline, to the dishes. And she got so resentful she started nagging my dad whenever he was home.” She shrugged and shot him a bitter smile. “So he just stopped coming home.”

“Nice

guy.”

“He is.” She fired the words back. “He’s just not cut out for the domestic scene. And I’m totally like him. I’m lucky I could learn from his mistakes. I’m not cut out for the family thing, either.”

“Maybe you underestimate yourself,” he said softly. Wondering who he was trying to convince.

“UNCLE M ARK?”

“Uh-huh?” He glanced up to find Emily hovering in his office doorway, fiddling with the ear of her stuffed lion. She’d carried that mangy thing around for weeks after her parents died. It gave him a start to see her with it again. Apart from sleeping with it every night, she’d pretty much detached herself from the flea-bitten creature. His gut felt queasy. She must be here to ask him what had been going on in the family room last night. He only wished he knew.

“I was wondering…”

“Yes, Em.” He braced himself for what was coming. Please God, don’t let the conversation lead to where babies came from or some mortifying aspect of femaledom he didn’t feel qualified to answer. He marshaled his thoughts rapidly, trying to prepare a few answers.
Yes, I was kissing Annie, because I like her very much. Sometimes when grown-
ups like each other…
The queasiness grew worse. This was going to be a lot tougher than he’d anticipated.

“Um, could I send Bea a get-well card?”

“What?” Could he possibly have heard right?

“Bea. I want to send her a card.”

Relief made him able to breathe again. “Well, sure. But I think she’s almost better now.” Emily had probably just crept down to check on Kitsu and never noticed him and Annie tucked away on the couch. They had been pretty quiet. He slumped in his chair, vowing never to make out with Annie or anyone else again unless it was behind locked doors.

“I know. But I feel bad I never sent her one before.”

“I sent her some flowers from both of us.”

“But I really want to send her a card. Just from me.” She glanced up, and he noticed a certain determination around the jaw that reminded him of her mother. He knew that expression well. Unless he wanted a knock-down, drag-out fight, that little face was going to get its way. And it was a perfectly nice idea.

He tweaked her hair. “Sure thing. We can go to the store and pick one out or we can make something on the computer.”

She smiled right back at him. “Let’s make one on the computer.”

It didn’t take them long to make the card. Then he helped her print the address on an envelope and stamp it.

“I can mail that for you tomorrow, Em. I bet Bea will be thrilled you thought of her.”