Inherited:OneChild(2)

One of his prospective "wives" coughed, snapping Jack's concentration.   Awareness of time and place returned, along with an irritation that he'd   allowed such pointless speculation to distract him. He forced his   attention back to the business at hand-securing a woman who could act   the part of both nanny and wife. On the verge of calling the next name   on the list, the door to the outer office flew open and his niece burst   in.

Her short, curly hair stood out from her head in matted golden-brown   spikes that had yet to see a brush that morning, and he could tell what   she'd eaten for breakfast with a single look at her shirt. She'd worked  a  hole into each knee of her new jeans-with a pair of scissors, by the   look of it. And she'd used her watercolor paints to turn her face into  a  startling mask of red and black swirls.

Isabella scanned the room in frantic anger, her olive green eyes   narrowed to slits. Taking a stance dead center in the room, she balled   her hands into fists and then opened her mouth, letting out a scream   loud and shrill enough to cause the windowpanes in his office to shiver   in protest. For a split second, everyone in the outer room froze. Jack   considered taking control of the situation, but then decided to wait  and  see how his nanny applicants reacted.                       
       
           



       

Some of the women took decisive action. They bolted for the door. Jack   sighed. Three down. Several of the others exchanged uneasy glances,   clearly uncertain how to respond to the crazed child who'd erupted into   their midst. One large-set, no-nonsense woman rose and approached   Isabella.

"You stop that this instant," she demanded.

Isabella responded by kicking the woman in the shin and increasing the   volume and shrillness of her screaming, something Jack would have   thought an impossibility. But somehow, his darling niece managed it. The   woman exited, muttering furiously beneath her breath-four down-and  Jack  thanked his lucky stars. He didn't think he could handle a wife  with a  moustache. Nor did he think Mrs. Locke would believe theirs was a  real  marriage.

Successfully having rid herself of four of the applicants, Isabella took   control of the room. She darted from person to person, giving them an   exclusive, one-on-one performance. Each reacted differently. Some   attempted to cajole. Others took the first woman's approach and made   demands. One actually threatened Isabella with a spanking. Several made   shushing noises. Only the woman in black didn't react. She continued to   sit quietly, reading her book as though she neither saw nor heard the   chaos exploding around her. Isabella took note and her jaw assumed a   determined slant.

Jack winced. Hell.

Rushing over to stand in front of the woman, Isabella gave full throttle   to her displeasure. It didn't make a bit of difference. The only   response was a leisurely turn of the page. Finally, Isabella's voice   gave out and she croaked into silence. Only then did the woman look up.   For an instant the two stared at each other, a silent contest of wills.

An odd expression burned in the woman's eyes, something that might have   been fear combined with an intense vulnerability, which didn't bode  well  for her ability to control a child of Isabella's willful nature.  In the  next moment, the look vanished, replaced by a gentle  relentlessness, a  searing look of hope combined with determination. The  expression took  his breath away. She'd only been in Isabella's  presence for mere  moments, and yet he could practically see her weaving  an emotional  connection with his niece.

She said something to Isabella in a voice so soft it didn't carry any   farther than his niece's ears. Then she stood and walked to the door.   Opening it, she scanned the area. "Who's in charge of this child?" Jack   heard her ask.

The temporary babysitter he'd hired, who'd no doubt been cowering in the hallway, reluctantly stepped forward. "I am."

Without another word, the woman ushered Isabella through the door and,   before the child could react, closed it decisively in her face. Then she   returned to her seat, picked up her book and resumed reading. A   scattering of applause broke out around her, not that she took any   notice. Even so, Jack could tell the incident had affected her. A   telltale pulse throbbed at the base of her throat, betraying her   agitation. It impressed the hell out of him that she could hide her   reaction so well. He checked his watch and grimaced. Time to move this   show along.

He called the next name on the list. "Annalise Stefano."

He wasn't the least surprised when the woman he'd been studying tucked   away her book, shouldered her purse and stood. Somehow, the name fit.   She walked toward him with a long, easy stride that suited her lean,   coltish build. A tiny curl sprang loose from the tight control she'd   attempted to impose on it and bounced against her temple in joyful   exuberance. He almost smiled. Her hair was one of the layers he'd love   to peel away. How would she look with all those curls tumbling down her   back in total abandon?

"I'm Annalise," she said, and offered her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mason."

He took her hand in his and felt the odd dichotomy of fine bones in   opposition to a tensile strength. Did it reflect the woman? He suspected   it did. He forced himself to release her, when in truth he experienced  a  sharp desire to tug her closer, if only to see how she'd react, to  see  how deep that self-control ran. Not good. Whomever he chose for  this job  would be his temporary wife, a woman he'd want out of his life  as soon  as feasible. That meant their relationship could be boiled  down to two  words.

Hands. Off.

"Ms. Stefano," he said. "Come with me." He started to close the door to   his office and caught a glimpse of another of the applicants scurrying   toward the exit. Hell. Five down, though at least it was the one who'd   advocated spanking. He closed the door and waved a hand toward one of   the two chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat while I review your   résumé."                       
       
           



       

He scanned it quickly to refresh his memory. Right, right. He remembered   this one. He'd almost rejected her out of hand because she had so   little practical experience. What had tipped the scales in her favor was   the fact that she'd received her teaching certificate in early   childhood and elementary education, as well as in special ed, and that   she'd possessed glowing recommendations. They were right in line with   the qualifications Derek recommended in his future bride.

"I assume my assistant explained why I'm in need of a nanny?"

"Yes, she did. I also read about the tragedy in the newspapers, Mr. Mason. I'm very sorry for your loss."

He inclined his head, relieved that he didn't have to go into lengthy   explanations. The papers had been quite thorough in that regard. "I'm   afraid you had the pleasure of meeting my niece, Isabella, a few minutes   ago."

Annalise offered a quick smile, one that transformed her face, lifting it from striking to luminescent. "So I gathered."

"As you can see, she's having a difficult time making the transition."   He held out his hands. "And who can blame her? Not only did she lose her   parents three months ago, but she's been uprooted from her home in   Colorado."

Sympathy radiated off Annalise and her eyes glittered with a wealth of   emotion. "That explains a lot about her current behavior."

Jack inclined his head. "When she first came to live with me, I   contacted an agency to hire a qualified daytime caregiver. I went   through their entire portfolio the first month. The longest stayed a   week. The shortest clocked in at just under an hour. Since then, I've   decided to take matters into my own hands and hire someone myself. Which   brings me to your application, Ms. Stefano."

"Please call me Annalise."

"Fine. Annalise it is." He paused on the first page of her application.   "You're qualified to teach elementary school. Why have you applied for a   position as a nanny?"

She didn't hesitate, clearly anticipating the question. "I'm interested   in attaining my master's before taking on a teaching job. This position   will provide me with more flexibility than teaching and fewer hours of   preparation while I pursue that goal."