Frowning, Simon told himself this situation would be different. He would have the nanny he hired screened completely. He wouldn't trust just anyone with his son's safety.
But the scowl on his face deepened as he realized that the only person he really trusted with Nathan's well-being was the woman beside him. The very woman who he already knew to be a liar. She hadn't told him the truth about who she was, so why should he trust her?
But he did. Instinctively, he knew he could trust Tula with his son. But she was also the woman who would be leaving someday soon.
The woman he was planning on using for his own taste of revenge.
Tula thanked the woman for coming and once she'd seen her out, closed the door and leaned back against it. A sigh of defeat slid from her throat.
That was the third prospective nanny she had interviewed in the last two days and she hadn't liked any of them.
"What was wrong with that one?"
Startled, she looked up at Simon, leaning against the newel post of the banister. His eyes were amused and his mouth was curved at one end as if he were trying to hide a smile that hadn't quite made it to his features.
"What're you doing here?" He had the most disconcerting habit of sneaking up on a person. And this new habit of his, splintering the routine he had clung to when she first came to the city, was even more disquieting. He was up to something, she figured. She just didn't know what. Which just put her that much more on guard.
He tossed his suit jacket over the newel post and loosened his red silk tie. "I live here, as I've pointed out before."
"Yes, but it's the middle of the afternoon. On a workday. Are you sick?"
He chuckled. "No, I'm not sick. I just left the office early. No big deal. Now, what was wrong with the woman you just sent packing?"
Still wary, she asked, "Didn't you see the bun she was wearing?"
"Bun?"
She saw the confusion on his face and explained. "Her hair. It was pulled into a taut little knot at the back of her head."
"So? An unattractive hairstyle makes for a bad nanny?"
It sounded silly when he said it, but Tula was going with her instincts. Nathan was too important to take any chances with his safety and happiness. She would find the right nanny for him or she just wouldn't leave.
Unless, she thought, that's exactly what she was subconsciously hoping for. That she could stay. That she could be the one raising Nathan, loving him. A worry for another day, she supposed.
"The woman's hair was scraped so tightly, her eyelids were tilted back. Anyone that rigid shouldn't be in charge of a child."
"Ah," he said as though he understood, but she knew he didn't. He was patronizing her.
"So the one yesterday afternoon, with her hair long and loose and curling … ?"
She scowled at him. "Too careless. If she doesn't care what her hair looks like, she won't care enough about Nathan."
"And the first one?"
"She had mean eyes," Tula said with no apologies. She just knew that woman was the kind who made children sit in dark closets or go to bed without dinner. She would never leave Nathan with a cold-eyed woman.
Simon's eyebrow lifted again. She was getting to the point where she could judge his moods by the tilt of that eyebrow alone. Right now, she told herself with an inner grumble, he was entertained. By her.
Perhaps he had a point. Tula knew what she was doing wasn't fair to the women who had come looking for a job. Except for the mean-eyed one, they seemed nice enough. Certainly qualified. The agency Simon was dealing with was the top one in the city, known for representing the absolute best in nannies.
But how could she be expected to turn over a little boy she loved to a stranger?
He was still watching her with just the barest hint of amusement on his face. An expression she found way too attractive for her own well-being.
"All right," she conceded grudgingly, "maybe I'm being a little too careful in the selection process."
"Maybe?"
She ignored that. Because even if she was being overprotective, it wouldn't hurt that baby any. It would only help ensure that the best possible person would be in charge of him. And if anything, as the baby's father, Simon should appreciate that.
"This is important, Simon. No one knows better than I do just how much the people in a child's life can impact their character. The way they look at the world. The way they think of themselves."
She caught herself when she realized that she was headed in a verbal direction she had had no intention of going.
"Speaking from experience," he mused and she knew he was remembering the story she'd told him about the bunny she had once tried to befriend. And about her mother's less than maternal attitude toward her.
"Is that so surprising?" she countered. "Doesn't everyone have some sort of issue with their parents? Even the best of them make mistakes, right?"
"True," he acknowledged, but his gaze never left hers. She felt as if he were trying to see inside her mind. To read her thoughts and display all of her secrets.
As if to prove her right, he spoke again.
"Who had that impact on you, Tula?" he asked, voice quiet. "Was it just your mom?"
"This isn't about me," she told him, refusing to be drawn into the very discussion she had unwittingly initiated.
"Isn't it?" he asked, pushing away from the banister to walk toward her.
"No," she insisted with a shake of her head. She felt the intensity of his gaze and flinched from it. Tula didn't need sympathy and wasn't interested in sharing her childhood miseries with a man who had already made it clear just how he felt about her. "This is about Nathan and what's best for him."
He kept coming and was close enough now that she had to hold her breath to keep from inhaling the scent of him. A blend of his aftershave and soap, it was a scent that called to her, made her remember lying beneath him, staring up into his eyes as they flashed with passion. Eyes that were, at the moment, studying her.
"You said it yourself," he told her, "we're all affected by who raised us. And whoever raised you will affect who you choose to care for Nathan."
Instantly, her back went up. He'd somehow touched on the one thing that had given her a lot of misgivings over the years. She had thought about how she was raised and about her parents and had wondered if she should even have a child of her own. But the truth was, Tula's heart yearned for family. Hungered for the kind of love and warmth she used to dream about. And she had always known she would be a good parent because she knew just what a child wanted. Craved.
So she was completely prepared and ready to argue this point with Simon.
"No, Simon. You're wrong about that. The initial input a child is given is important, I agree. And when we're kids and growing up, it pushes us in one direction or another. But at some point, responsible adults make choices. We decide who we are. Who we want to be."
He frowned as he thought about what she said. "Do we? I wonder. Seems to me that we are always who we started out to be."
Uncomfortable with being so close to him and unable to touch, she walked into the living room. She wished Nathan were awake right now because then she could claim that she didn't have time to talk. That she had to take care of the baby. But it was nap time and that baby really enjoyed his naps. Ordinarily, she loved that about him because she could get a lot of her own work done. Today, when she could have used Nathan's presence, she had to admit there would be no help coming from that quarter.
She kept walking farther into the huge room and didn't stop until she was standing in front of the bay window. Naturally, Simon followed her, his footsteps sure and slow, sounding out easily against the wood floor.
"So," he said, "you're saying your parents had nothing to do with who you are today?"
Tula laughed to herself but kept the sound quiet, so he wouldn't know just how funny that statement really was. Of course her parents had shaped her. Her mom was a lovely woman who was simply never meant to be a mother. Katherine was more at home with champagne brunches than PTA meetings. Impatient with clumsiness or loud noises, Katherine preferred a more formal atmosphere-one without the clamor of children.
Being responsible for a child had cut into Katherine's lifestyle, though it had significantly increased her alimony when she and Jacob divorced.