The Wrong Sister(28)

My brain’s gone to mush, with you so close.

“So what’s she like, this nanny-person?”

“Young. Short. A fiery little red-head.”

“Hot-tempered?”

“I hope not, working with children. She’s been nannying for several years. The agency said she was one of their best.”

“They would, wouldn’t they...”

“We’ll see what we think of her tonight. See what Nicky thinks of her, more importantly.”

He pushed her into the big glass-fronted living room with its low couches, colorful rugs, and casual dining area. Nicky’s space-age highchair sat drawn up to the table, and three other places were set.

Nicola played on one of the rugs, surrounded by toys. She struggled to her feet as Fiona and Christian appeared. Christian swept his daughter up before she could lurch against Fiona’s damaged knee. He tickled her until she squealed and giggled.

“Special visitor coming to meet you tonight, Nicola Jane,” he said. “She’s called Kathy. Can you say ‘Kathy’?”

“Kat-ee,” Nic piped.

He set her down beside the toys again. “Not bad at all, clever-clogs. And Auntie Fiona’s feeling better now, so she’s here for dinner, too.”

He stretched his rangy frame out on the rug and began building a tower of blocks for Nicola.

Fiona sat quietly watching. Christian was lean and athletic, such a physical presence. He’d propped himself on one elbow; his other arm stacked the colored cubes. She found the contrast of the big confident man and tiny child irresistible.

She pushed her bare toes against the smooth floor and the chair slid easily so she had a better view of him while he occupied himself with Nicky. The indigo shirt strained across his shoulders and gaped at the front again to reveal a slice of dark shadowed chest. Her fingers twitched as she imagined testing the texture of that crisp hair, dragging her hand through it, rubbing her breasts across it. He was masculine without compromise, hard and strong and handsome. How was she supposed to resist?

The tower of blocks collapsed and Nicky laughed as she batted the remaining few down. The doorbell pealed.

Christian rose lithely to his feet and strode away. A few seconds later Fiona heard muffled pleasantries and returning footsteps. She swiveled the chair for her first glimpse of the nanny. A tiny girl with wavy red hair and over-long black trousers strolled in, gazing about the splendid room.

“My sister-in-law, Fiona,” Christian said by way of introduction. “And this is my daughter, Nicola.”

Kathy offered Fiona a bright smile and then made straight for her new charge.

“Hi-ya Nicola,” she beamed, swinging Nicky up onto her hip. “Cool T-shirt,” she added, pointing at the fairies with shiny wings across Nicky’s front. As simply as that, she snared the child’s attention. Nicky, who could easily have turned shy or timid, was soon chattering happily.

Christian raised an eyebrow at Fiona and she sent him a slight nod. Things seemed to be off to a good start, anyway.

Dinner proceeded amidst easy laughter. Kathy talked about the children at her last job. Their father had been transferred to Madrid—hence her availability.

Nicky grew tired and fractious and was put to bed.

Christian made it obvious he felt Kathy was a definite possibility; he showed her the guest wing and her proposed bedroom.

Throughout the evening, Fiona’s eyes roamed again and again in his direction, drawn against her will by his sheer physical presence and undiluted virility. She became ever more convinced she needed to leave him the moment she was well enough to travel. Her resolve was wearing perilously thin.

Her brain knew it was the right decision.

But her heart? It tore in two at the prospect.





CHAPTER NINE





Next morning she gritted her teeth and hauled herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She managed to sponge over most of her body, but didn’t dare risk the shower in case she fell. She limped out to breakfast, surprising Christian who was setting juice and fruit on a tray.

“I was just bringing it,” he said, sounding harassed.

Nicky threw her spoon on the floor, missing the plastic mat under her highchair. Blobs of oatmeal hit the rug.

She saw Christian grimace and reach for a paper towel.

“Would you rather I went back to bed?”

“You’ve made it this far. You might as well stay.” He slid her tray onto the table and bent to clean up Nicky’s mess.

Poor man, she thought. No wife any more, and a daughter who’s a bundle of mischief. It won’t be easy for him, even with a nanny.

She levered the chunks of fruit clumsily up to her mouth, determined to manage on her own. Half an hour later she lurched back to bed, and lay there missing Jan, thinking of their childhood together, weeping quietly for all the future times they’d never share. Eventually she dozed—only to be woken by Christian at her bedroom doorway.