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The Nanny's Secret Child
The Nanny's Secret Child
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The Nanny's Secret Child

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The Nanny's Secret Child
Lorraine Beatty

Ready-Made FamilyWidower Gil Montgomery's new nanny has a secret. There's a reason Julie Bishop and Gil's daughter Abby connect so perfectly—Julie is Abby's birth mother. Julie gave her daughter up for adoption years ago, but she couldn't resist the chance to be close to the child her heart never forgot. But Julie never imagined she’d fall for the handsome adoptive dad. Gil’s been burned before, and Julie worries that if her secret is exposed, he’ll never forgive her. The perfect family is so close, but so far… unless Gil can let the past go and welcome Julie home. Right where she belongs.Home to Dover: A small town with a big heart

Ready-Made Family

Widower Gil Montgomery’s new nanny has a secret. There’s a reason Julie Bishop and Gil’s daughter, Abby, connect so perfectly—Julie is Abby’s birth mother. Julie gave her daughter up for adoption years ago, but she couldn’t resist the chance to be close to the child her heart never forgot. But Julie never imagined she’d fall for the handsome adoptive dad. Gil’s been burned before, and Julie worries that if her secret is exposed, he’ll never forgive her. The perfect family is so close, but so far… Unless Gil can let the past go and welcome Julie home. Right where she belongs.

Something about Gil compelled Julie to draw closer, to know him better.

That was something she couldn’t afford. Especially after learning his wife had lied to him.

“It’s late. I need to go,” she told him.

He followed her to the door. She looked up at him, resisting the impulse to reach up and touch his cheek to ease his worry. “Go up and say good-night to your daughter, Gil. And relax. All you need to do is show Abby you love her,” she advised.

Julie fought tears all the way home. She cried for Gil, who was longing for his child’s love, and for herself, for bringing another lie into the Montgomerys’ life. What a mess this was.

Thankfully, tomorrow was her last day. She’d have to pray that Gil’s mother could guide the pair to a new relationship. But in her heart she knew she was the only one who could do that. She had a bond with Abby neither of them had.

Biology. Blood was thicker than water.

LORRAINE BEATTY was raised in Columbus, Ohio, but now calls Mississippi home. She and her husband, Joe, have two sons and five grandchildren. Lorraine started writing in junior high and is a member of RWA and ACFW, and is a charter member and past president of Magnolia State Romance Writers. In her spare time she likes to work in her garden, travel and spend time with her family.

The Nanny’s Secret Child

Lorraine Beatty

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Therefore each of you must put off falsehood

and speak truthfully to your neighbor,

for we are all members of one body.

—Ephesians 4:25

To my mother-in-law, Mary.

My biggest fan and my dearest friend.

What a blessing you are to us.

Contents

Cover (#u1d5761c4-ad2a-5ef7-abb8-e9e15ab9e361)

Back Cover Text (#u49e2b7f7-e14f-5d19-933c-2582d3bbae49)

Introduction (#u6d0d2e97-90c4-5c4d-bddc-3ba7ed9e681b)

About the Author (#ud6cf15ac-8c78-51d7-8ae0-b03b1ff9337e)

Title Page (#ub1e58dd0-52ff-53a8-b9b6-06be0809d1b6)

Bible Verse (#ue1ee37e3-0ef2-5d6a-8aab-7537ecd2518d)

Dedication (#uec451856-b394-5a47-b103-50e48d6f45f1)

Chapter One (#u6fd1445b-798c-5ee3-b286-2c52f2e6488a)

Chapter Two (#ud8cef94d-7b21-514c-b956-a3afab776091)

Chapter Three (#udcf00a49-45b1-5bd8-a3f1-912331a9e6f3)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_998e9cf8-3cc3-58f0-907a-32cefd3e1c0b)

“Turn right onto Sycamore Avenue. Your destination is on the right.”

Julianna Bishop followed the directions on her GPS and made the turn, searching the house numbers for 122. The old, established neighborhood in Dover, Mississippi, could have been lifted from a fifties television sitcom. Each home oozed charm, their appealing facades nestled on neatly landscaped yards that even the gray drab of January couldn’t dim. Full-grown trees stripped of their leaves arched overhead, filtering the bright sunlight streaming down from a clear blue sky. Evergreen live oaks and giant magnolia trees added a splash of green to the winter landscapes.

The peaceful and picturesque surroundings were at odds with the violent storm raging inside her. She swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat and searched the house numbers again. Heart pounding against her rib cage, Julie pressed down on the brakes, bringing the car to a full stop. She had arrived. One-twenty-two Sycamore Avenue was a two-story white colonial with black shutters, a red front door and a lamppost at the edge of the sidewalk. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, turning her knuckles white. She was doing the right thing. Her prayers had been answered.

Her gaze surveyed the white house more closely. It was exactly as she’d expected. It was a beautiful home, the kind of place where families laughed and loved and enjoyed each other. All that was missing was the white picket fence.

Closing her eyes, Julie inhaled slowly, hoping to settle her jittery nerves. The house and the neighborhood were reassuring. Everything would be fine.

Sliding the gear shift into Park, she inhaled a couple of slow breaths, hoping to calm her churning stomach and take a moment to plan her introduction. The opening strains of “Mighty God” sounded from the depths of her oversize purse. She rummaged around, found the small phone and glanced at the display. DiDi. Her moral support. And oh, how she needed her longtime best friend at this moment. “Hey.”

“Are you there yet?”

DiDi’s anxious tone mirrored her own. “Yes.” Julie rested her head against the back of the seat, mentally scolding herself for being such a coward. “I just pulled up out front.”

“I’m praying for you.”

“I’m praying for me, too.”

“Have you figured out what you’re going to say to him?”

“Uh, I was thinking of, ‘Hello. I’m the nanny.’”

“You know what I mean. What if he suspects?”

“Di, you’re not helping.” Julie pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to quell the nausea.

“Sorry. I know you have to do this. I just hope you find the peace you’re looking for when this is over.”

Her friend’s loving concern and understanding did more to ease Julie’s anxiety than all her prayers. She thanked the Lord every day for sending Deirdre Simmons into her life. “I know it will. The Lord’s given me this chance, and I can’t pass it up.”

“Be careful. Watch your emotions, girlfriend. You deserve to be happy, and I hope after this you will be.”

Julie ended the call, then peered out at the house again. Lord, this is a blessing from You, isn’t it? The answer to my prayers? There was no other explanation. Why else would Gil Montgomery’s name turn up at the Nanny Connection Agency, and why else would she be available to step in to fill the assignment?

The timing was too perfect to be anything other than a gift from God. She’d ended her job as a second-grade teacher at Christmas. In three months she’d be boarding a plane for Paris and a new life as a teacher at the International School. The five-year assignment she’d dreamed about and worked toward for years. In the meantime, she continued to work as a nanny, a second job she’d held in the summers and on school holidays. The butterflies were still battling in her stomach, but she’d regained her confidence. It might be nerve-racking at first, but when all was said and done, she’d have peace and she could step into her future finally free of the gnawing questions. Anticipation coursed through her like carbonated water, making her all bubbly with excitement.

Climbing out of the car, Julie tugged her sweater down, adjusted her scarf and slung her large purse over her shoulder. The walkway to the front door was long and winding, giving her the time she needed to disengage her emotions and find her professional nanny zone. This afternoon’s meeting with the family was a mere formality. She’d been through it dozens of times. It was a chance for everyone involved to get a feel for one another and gauge their compatibility. It was unusual to meet on a Sunday, but given the urgency of the client’s request, it was understandable.

Fingers trembling, she rang the doorbell, lifting up one more prayer. The only way this would work was to keep her heart locked away and her emotions shut down. She’d assimilate everything later when she got home. She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to ignore the fierce pounding of her heart.

Movement from the other side of the small panes in the front door froze her breath in her lungs. This was a happy assignment. Joyous, even. She would concentrate on that. She pasted a smile on her face as the door clicked open. The man in the doorway stared back at her, looking puzzled and confused. But he wasn’t the middle-aged, slightly paunchy man she’d expected. This guy was early thirties, tops. Tall, well built and with sculpted features that were drawn downward in a fierce scowl. Did she have the right house? The numbers beside the door confirmed her location.

“Yes?”

She cleared her throat. “I’m from the Nanny Connection Agency. You requested a nanny?” His frown deepened, and he scanned her quickly with intense cobalt blue eyes. A gust of wind blew hair across her face, and she raked it way with her fingertips and widened her smile.

“Right.” The man touched his forehead and nodded, motioning her inside. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize what time it was.”

Julie stepped into the foyer, her gaze quickly scanning the small entry. Outdated wallpaper covered the walls, and a shiny brass chandelier hung from the ceiling. The stairs were covered with worn carpet and the parquet floors had seen better days.

“Thanks for coming. I’m Gil Montgomery.” He extended his hand.

She grasped it, her fingers enveloped in a strong, warm grip, along with a snap of static electricity as if she’d rubbed her feet across new carpet before touching him. Or had she imagined it? It was winter after all, and the air was dry. She looked up into his eyes and found it hard to look away. She saw intelligence and probing, and a swell of appreciation rolled along her nerves. He was a very attractive man. She blinked and smiled. “Julie Bishop.” He motioned her to follow him.

Glimpses of the other rooms as she passed by left her puzzled. The interior of the home didn’t match the picture-perfect exterior. The layout was small and cramped, and the scale of the furniture was all wrong. Oversize and ornate, it was better suited for a much larger and more modern home. The rooms were relics from the eighties. The disjointed feel about the house added another flip to her churning stomach. She’d envisioned the inside of the home as warm and welcoming, filled with antiques and lovingly worn furniture. Not these conflicted styles. What did that say about the people who lived here?

Like Gil Montgomery.

Her gaze landed on the broad back of the man. He wasn’t supposed to be this elegantly handsome man who moved with athletic grace and control. He was a head taller than her, which placed him a little over six feet in height. The dark blue knit shirt tucked in neatly at the narrow waist hung nicely over his broad shoulders. She continued her inventory as she followed behind him. A head of wavy, coffee-brown hair curled slightly over his ears and along the nape of his neck, suggesting he was in need of a trim. But it was the eyes that had grabbed her full attention. They were a rich cobalt blue, with long dark lashes and tiny crinkles at the corners. Julie dismissed the idle thoughts. What the man looked like was neither here nor there. She closed her eyes and offered up one more prayer.

“Oomph.”

Her face bumped into a wall of muscle when Mr. Montgomery stopped in the kitchen. Her hands rested against a solid back. Warmth from beneath his shirt transferred to her palms, sending a funny squiggle into her stomach. She dropped her hand and stepped back. His dark blue eyes held concern.

“Sorry. Are you all right? I didn’t realize you were so close behind me.”

She nodded and stepped back quickly, uncomfortable with the sensations coursing through her at his nearness. “My fault. I was distracted by...” you. “Your home, it’s charming.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a chopped-up mess.”

He’d stopped in a large and sunny breakfast nook. This part of the house had a warmer and friendlier feel, though the furniture was still all wrong. The glass-topped table didn’t fit with the country kitchen, which though charming, was a couple of decades out of date with the light oak cabinets, laminate countertops and almond appliances. Placing her purse on the table, she glanced over her shoulder to find her new employer staring at her. His dark blue eyes narrowed and a deep frown creased his high forehead. Her pulse jumped. What did he see? She forced a smile, her hand went to her throat, her fingers wrapping around the small heart necklace she always wore, trying to calm the sense of being exposed.

“You’re younger than I expected.”

Julie expelled a soft breath. She’d heard this before. “Is that a problem?”

He rubbed his temple with two fingers. “I’ve never hired a nanny before. I was expecting someone more mature. How long have you been doing this? Being a nanny, I mean?”

Typical questions. She was used to them. She smiled reassuringly, trying to ignore the anticipation that was swirling in her stomach now that she was actually here. She only hoped he wouldn’t send her away. “I’m a teacher by profession. Second grade. But I’ve worked as a nanny during summers and holidays for the last six years.”

Mr. Montgomery nodded, the worry lines in his forehead deepening. Had she come here only to be dismissed because she wasn’t gray-haired and over fifty?

“I’m sure you’re qualified, or you wouldn’t be working for the agency.” He gestured for her to be seated at the table, then joined her, clasping his hands on the top. “I wanted to take a minute to talk about my daughter before I introduce you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her.” She was surprised she could even speak around the tightness in her throat. He held her gaze, sending her heart pounding again. Could he sense her turmoil? Was the truth written in her eyes? Her false smile? Or was she being paranoid?

“Abby has been through a lot these last six months. Her mother’s illness and death were hard on her. I brought her back here to be close to my family. My mother has been taking care of her since Christmas, but she had to leave the country suddenly.”

Julie tamped down the pain in her heart and schooled her features. This wasn’t going the way she’d expected. What did he mean “brought her back”? “Abby wasn’t with you?”

Montgomery set his jaw a moment before continuing. “She went to live with her mother in Mobile after the divorce. But she’s with me now and that’s all that matters.”

She nodded, unable to speak. Everything was all wrong. She wished she’d read his application more closely. She’d seen where he’d recently lost his wife, but not that he was divorced. She fought to remain composed. “It’s hard for a child to lose a parent, especially at a young age. I imagine she’s having trouble adjusting to the change?”

Montgomery glanced away briefly before meeting her gaze. “Yes. She was just getting comfortable here with my mom and now another change.” He rubbed his temple. “I don’t want her to be any more upset.”

“When will your mother be home again?”

“She’s supposed to return next week. My sister is a dancer. She was performing in London and had an accident. Mom flew over to be with her until she can travel.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “I wanted you to know what to expect. I’m not sure how she’ll react to this new development.”

“I understand. As a teacher I’ve dealt with all types of children and their challenges. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but I appreciate you telling me.” She could see Mr. Montgomery relax slightly, as if a burden was lifted from his shoulders. Unfortunately it had shifted onto hers. Had the mother’s death been so traumatic? Was her father providing the love and support his child needed? She forced her thoughts off that track. One step at a time. One minute at a time.

Montgomery met her gaze. “She means everything to me. I want only the best for her. I’m sure you understand.”

The sincerity and concern in his tone eased much of her worry. It was clear that he loved his daughter. Montgomery’s cell buzzed. He slipped it from his pocket, excused himself, moving to the other end of the kitchen. She heard him say something about breaker boxes before ending the call.