Nanny Makes Three(4)

“Hadley Stratton.” Had he remembered her? No, of course not. “Stratton.” She cleared her throat and tried not to sound as if her heart was racing. Of course he knew who she was; obviously the agency had let him know who they were sending. “I’m Hadley Stratton.” She clamped her lips together and stopped repeating her name.

“You’re a nanny?” He executed a quick but thorough assessment of her and frowned.

“Well, yes.” Maybe he expected someone older. “I have my résumé and references if you’d like to look them over.” She reached into her tote and pulled out a file.

“No need.” He stepped back and gestured her inside. “Maggie’s in the living room.” He shut the door behind her and grimaced. “Just follow the noise.”

Hadley didn’t realize that she’d expected the baby’s mother to be ridiculously young, beautiful and disinterested in motherhood until she spied the woman holding the child. In her late forties, she was wearing jeans, a flannel shirt and sneakers, her disheveled dark hair in a messy bun.

“Hadley Stratton. Candace Tolliver, my housekeeper.” Liam cast a fond grin at the older woman. “Who is very glad you’ve come so quickly.”

Candace had the worn look of a first-time mother with a fussy baby. Even before the introductions were completed, she extended the baby toward Hadley. “I’ve fed her and changed her. She won’t stop crying.”

“What is her normal routine?” Hadley rocked and studied the tiny infant, wondering what had become of the child’s mother. Smaller than the average newborn by a few pounds. Was that due to her mother’s unhealthy nutritional habits while pregnant or something more serious?

“We don’t know.” Candace glanced toward Liam. “She only just arrived. Excuse me.” She exited the room as if there were something burning in the kitchen.

“These are her medical records.” Liam gestured toward a file on the coffee table. “Although she was premature, she checked out fine.”

“How premature?” She slipped her pinkie between the infant’s lips, hoping the little girl would try sucking and calm down. “Does she have a pacifier?”

Liam spoke up. “No.”

Hadley glanced at him. He’d set one hand on his hip. The other was buried in his thick hair. He needed a haircut, she noted absently before sweeping her gaze around the room in search of the normal clutter that came with a child. Other than a car seat and a plastic bag from the local drugstore, the elegant but comfortable room looked like it belonged in a decorating magazine. Pale gray walls, woodwork painted a clean white. The furniture had accents of dusty blue, lime green and cranberry, relieving the monochrome palette.

“Where are her things?”

“Things?” The rugged horseman looked completely lost.

“Diapers, a blanket, clothes? Are they in her room?”

“She doesn’t have a room.”

“Then where does she sleep?”

“We have yet to figure that out.”

Hadley marshaled her patience. Obviously there was a story here. “Perhaps you could tell me what’s going on? Starting with where her mother is.”

“She died a few days ago in a traffic accident.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.” Hadley’s heart clenched as she gazed down at the infant who had grown calmer as she sucked on Hadley’s finger. “The poor child never to know her mother.”

Liam cleared his throat. “Actually, I didn’t know her.”

“You had to have...” Hadley trailed off. Chances were Liam Wade just didn’t remember which one-night stand had produced his daughter. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” she crooned, glad to see the infant’s eyes closing.

“Maggie. Her mother was Margaret.”

“Hello, little Maggie.”

Humming a random tune, Hadley rocked Maggie. The combination of soothing noise and swaying motion put the baby to sleep, and Hadley placed her in the car seat.

“You are incredibly good at that.”

Hadley looked up from tucking in the baby and found Liam Wade standing too close and peering over her shoulder at Maggie. The man smelled like pure temptation. If pure temptation smelled like soap and mouthwash. He wore jeans and a beige henley beneath his brown-and-cream plaid shirt. His boots were scuffed and well worn. He might be worth a pile of money, but he’d never acted as though it made him better than anyone else. He’d fit in at the horse shows he’d attended, ambling around with the rest of the guys, showing off his reining skills by snagging the flirts who stalked him and talking horses with men who’d been in the business longer than he’d been alive. His cockiness came from what he achieved on the back of a horse.