"Not at all, Ms. Stefano. I'm perfectly satisfied with our current relationship." He left her to ponder that while he crossed the hallway to the second bedroom. A huge king bed dominated the room. Annalise came to a stumbling halt behind him. "Puts paid to that idea," he said.
"The couch it is," she agreed. She spared a quick glance at her watch. "We have a couple of hours until lunchtime. I think I'll check out the kitchen and see what supplies I'll need to pick up before then."
"I asked Taye's housekeeper to take care of stocking the shelves and refrigerator. If she overlooked anything you think we'll need, you can call up to the main house and she'll be happy to have it delivered."
"Taye?"
"Taye McClintock. He owns the McMansion we passed on our way here."
Her lips twitched. "And is McClintock a McDreamy, a McSteamy or a McWeeny?"
"McWeeny?" Jack chuckled. Taye had been one of his best friends in college and possessed the face of an angel and the mind of a computer, and was the only man Jack had ever met who could romance a woman into his bed in five minutes flat. "Oh, Taye's definitely a McWeeny, as I'll be sure to inform him the next time I see him."
She stared in horror. "You wouldn't."
"Not only would I, but I will."
A fierce debate raged across her face before she turned on her heel. "I think I'll unpack the car and get organized."
He caught her arm. "The organizing can wait. I'll unpack the car, while you wrestle Isabella into a bathing suit. Then we'll hit the beach before the rays get too intense."
The idea clearly appealed and she nodded. "Sold."
Twenty minutes later, they were out the door and spreading their beach towels on the empty stretch of beach. To his intense interest, Annalise wore a modest two piece in an emerald green that brought out the gold highlights in her eyes. The bottoms were a pair of shorts that skimmed the tops of her thighs and showcased her mile-long legs. The top was equally modest, resembling a cropped tank that left her midriff bare.
If she thought he'd find it less appealing than something scantier, she'd underestimated him. If anything, the outfit teased his senses, whetting his appetite rather than satisfying it. The top fluttered in a flirtatious manner while the bottom clung lovingly to her pert backside and toned thighs. His body clenched and he forced his gaze away. If he was this randy on their first day of vacation, God help him get through the next two weeks.
"I'm going for a quick swim," he informed Annalise. "Will you keep an eye on Isabella?"
"Of course. That's why I'm here."
"For some reason, I'm having trouble remembering that," he muttered.
The ocean had warmed significantly over the past few weeks of warm, humid weather. He struck out through the gentle swells, working himself hard. By the time he climbed from the water, he'd regained some semblance of control. To his amusement, Annalise and Isabella were busy working on a sand castle. His niece looked up at his approach and waved him over with heartwarming eagerness. She put a plastic shovel in his hands and pointed at the moat they'd started to dig around the castle.
"You want me to help?"
Her broad grin and enthusiastic nod had him setting to the task with a will. Over the next hour they worked diligently, their efforts stymied by the turning tide. The waves crept closer and closer, overflowing the moat and splashing up the sides of the castle ramparts. Isabella shrieked in a combination of protest and laughter, first racing away from the waves then dashing back to prop up the collapsed towers.
Little by little, the sea won the battle. When the final tower toppled, melting into a mere lump of its former glory, Jack gathered up their towels, then scooped his niece into his arms and tossed her over his shoulder, reveling in her laughing squeals of protest. Not even her flailing sandy limbs could curb his pleasure in the changes these few short hours had wrought.
"Time for lunch, munchkin," he announced.
They took advantage of the outdoor shower, rinsing away the sand before entering through the laundry room off the kitchen. While Annalise and Isabella changed, he raided the refrigerator and put together a selection of sandwiches. Then he headed for the bathroom. By the time he returned, he found his niece dressed and seated at the table eating one of the sandwiches, her hair clinging to her head in tidy, damp ringlets.
"I didn't hear any screaming," he murmured to Annalise. "How did you pull that off?"
"I let her help me with mine and then we reversed the process. So far, so good."
"Thank you," he said simply.
He didn't know how else to express his gratitude, except … He hooked her chin with the knuckle of his index finger and started to brush her mouth with his when he suddenly realized what he was doing. He froze and their gazes clashed. Her eyes were wide and startled and her breath escaped her parted lips in a soft gasp.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, inches from her mouth. "I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to thank you."
Everything about her teased his senses-her sweet, sweet fragrance, her silken touch, those glorious eyes-making him want to draw her into his arms and consume her, body and soul.
"Do you thank all your nannies this way?" she demanded.
"Only you." His voice roughened. "I can't explain it."
"You promised not to touch me again."
He deliberately released her and took a step back, amazed at the strength of will it required. "Better?"
For a split second he thought she was about to say, "No." That she'd be the one to take that forbidden step into his arms and finish what he'd started. Then she nodded and deliberately turned away. The next instant acute tension tightened the muscles of her back and shoulders. A single look told him why.
Isabella had stopped eating and stared at them with unmistakable intensity. He couldn't tell whether their embrace had upset his niece or pleased her. Maybe she wasn't sure, either. After an endless moment she smiled, giving her seal of approval. A small dimple winked in her cheek. Until that moment, he didn't even realize she had a dimple, so rare were her smiles. That's what Annalise had managed to accomplish in just one short day.
Jack returned his niece's smile. Whether his dear nanny knew it or not, his niece's smile had just sealed Annalise's fate.
The next several days flew by. Annalise proved to be right on several fronts. Getting away and devoting his full attention to Isabella made a noticeable difference. Of course, it didn't solve all her problems. There was still the occasional tantrum, but to his relief they were few and far between. It also helped that the two adults presented a united front, making it clear that such behavior wouldn't be tolerated.
To Jack, the most telling change came when his niece stopped painting her face in swirls of black, red and violent purple, but switched to more cheerful pastels that reflected her improved outlook on life. Not that the war paint lasted for more than an hour or two each day. Their twice-daily beach visits washed it away almost as soon as she applied it. On the fifth day, she forgot to wear it altogether, and that was when hope took hold.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a pathway out of the darkness.
Jack had to admit that his favorite times were in the evenings when the three of them curled up on the couch together and chose a DVD from the extensive selection stocked on the shelves surrounding the wide-screen TV. There in the darkness, he could relax his guard and simply enjoy this moment out of time.
"I think she's nodded off," Annalise whispered during one of their nightly sessions.
He'd sensed as much ten minutes ago when his niece's breathing had slowed and deepened and her muscles had gone lax against his chest. "I'll take her to bed in a minute."
"You like having her fall asleep on you, don't you?" The lights from the TV flickered, allowing him to catch the brief glitter of compassion reflected in her eyes. "Does it remind you of when you and Joanne were Isabella's age?"
Jack released a harsh laugh, one that had Isabella stirring in his arms. He traced a reassuring hand along his niece's back and forced himself to calmness. With a small, inarticulate murmur Isabella settled. "Not even close," he stated quietly. "My father would have considered this sort of activity a complete waste of time."