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The Rancher And The Nanny
Caroline Cross
Livestock? John MacLaren had all the answers. But little girls? On that subject he was clueless. What did an orphan know about creating a home, especially for a delicate child like Lissy? He needed help. And help came…in the most unexpected, most unforgettable form. Eve Chandler. Years before, he'd wanted her with a vengeance, but 'Princess' hadn't seemed to think him worthy. Now the tables had turned, and she was working for him. Yet Eve was so much more than a nanny. With her encouragement, Lissy was blossoming…and John's icy reserve was melting. But once Eve recovered her lost riches, would John's warm, willing lover remain by his side?
If Having Eve Around Would Make Things Better, He Could Handle His Feelings—Couldn’t He?
As for his unfortunate physical attraction to her…big deal. It wasn’t his way to let his feelings cloud his judgment, or his desires dictate his actions. And he certainly wasn’t a stranger to deprivation. He’d lived most of his life without the sort of things—such as a home or family or even a close companion—that other people took for granted. He could handle himself.
As quickly as that, his mind was made up. For Lissy’s sake, he’d do it. He’d hire Eve to be her nanny.
And to hell with his gut, which was already warning him that Ms. Chandler was going to be nothing but trouble.
And that he was making a big mistake.
Dear Reader,
Silhouette is celebrating its 20
anniversary throughout 2000! So, to usher in the first summer of the millennium, why not indulge yourself with six powerful, passionate, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire?
Jackie Merritt returns to Desire with a MAN OF THE MONTH who’s Tough To Tame. Enjoy the sparks that fly between a rugged ranch manager and the feisty lady who turns his world upside down! Another wonderful romance from RITA Award winner Caroline Cross is in store for you this month with The Rancher and the Nanny, in which a rags-to-riches hero learns trust and love from the riches-to-rags woman who cares for his secret child.
Watch for Meagan McKinney’s The Cowboy Meets His Match—an octogenarian matchmaker sets up an ice-princess heiress with a virile rodeo star. The Desire theme promotion THE BABY BANK, about sperm-bank client heroines who find love unexpectedly, concludes with Susan Crosby’s The Baby Gift. Wonderful newcomer Sheri WhiteFeather offers another irresistible Native American hero with Cheyenne Dad. And Kate Little’s hero reunites with his lost love in a marriage of convenience to save her from financial ruin in The Determined Groom.
So come join in the celebration and start your summer off on the supersensual side—by reading all six of these tantalizing Desire books!
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
The Rancher and the Nanny
Caroline Cross
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAROLINE CROSS
always loved to read, but it wasn’t until she discovered the romance genre that she felt compelled to write, fascinated by the chance to explore the positive power of love in people’s lives. Winner of the prestigious Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award for Best Short Contemporary, she’s also been thrilled to win the Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Desire, as well as a W.I.S.H. Award. She grew up in central Washington State, attended the University of Puget Sound and now lives outside of Seattle, where she tries to work at home despite the chaos created by two telephone-addicted teenage daughters and a husband with a fondness for home-improvement projects. The Rancher and the Nanny marks her tenth book for Silhouette. Caroline would love to hear from her readers. She can be reached at P.O. Box 5845, Bellevue, Washington, 98006.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
One
The shiny black pickup rocketed down the Bar M’s gravel drive, raising a plume of dust in its wake.
Poised before the ranch house’s back door, Eve Chandler turned as the vehicle swept past. Her stomach did a quick somersault at the sight of the big, dark-haired man behind the wheel.
It had been eight years since she last saw John MacLaren, but for an instant time seemed to melt away. All of a sudden she was seventeen again, and the way she’d felt whenever she was around him—hot, bothered, filled with yearnings that both enthralled and embarrassed her—came rushing back.
She shivered and took a step toward the stairs as if to flee, only to freeze a second later as her common sense kicked in.
Knock it off, Eve. You’re no longer an inexperienced teenager, remember? You’re twenty-five years old, the same age John was all those years ago. At least he doesn’t have a clue how you felt back then—you made sure of that. Think how much harder this would be if he had.
The stark reminder of why she was here crashed over her like a breaker of icy water. And though she stubbornly refused to give in to the rising tide of panic that had been building inside her the past few weeks, she couldn’t deny the irony of the situation. If someone had tried to tell her six months ago that she, the privileged granddaughter of Lander County’s biggest rancher, would soon be forced to come begging favors from the sexy loner who once worked in the Chandler stables, she never would have believed it.
Yet here she was.
Thirty feet away, John pulled in beside the small red car she’d borrowed for the drive over. He switched off the pickup’s engine.
She could hear her heart pounding in the ensuing silence. Determined not to let on, she deliberately struck a casual pose as he climbed out of the cab and shut the truck door. He began to walk in her direction, his long legs eating up the distance as he slowly yanked off his leather work gloves.
If he was surprised to see her, it didn’t show.
He stopped at the foot of the stairs and inclined his head a scant inch. “Eve.”
Taking a firm grip on her unruly emotions, she summoned her most confident smile. “Hello, John.”
There was a distinct silence as they regarded each other.
Around them, the September day was much like any other. A pale yellow sun hung high in the vast blue Montana sky. The temperature hovered in the midfifties, while the summer-seared grass that covered the surrounding range waved gently beneath a light but persistent breeze.
Eve paid no attention. Her focus was completely claimed by the tall man standing before her. Despite her little pep talk, the fluttery feeling in her stomach got worse as he slowly rocked back on his heels and gave her an unhurried once-over. His gaze touched on her sunny blond hair, then raked her ice-blue cashmere sweater, gray wool crepe slacks and Italian leather shoes.
She’d chosen the expensive outfit deliberately. At the time, she’d told herself she merely wanted to look her best. Now, she realized that on some level she’d also hoped it would give her an edge, acting as a subtle reminder of their respective pasts. In the half second before his eyes hooded over, however, she caught a glimpse of something in their depths that seemed to be as much cool disdain as grudging appreciation.
Stung, she lifted her chin and studied him in turn. She had to concede the years had been good to him in ways that had nothing to do with his newfound wealth. He might be dressed in scuffed cowboy boots, jeans whitened at the hips and thighs, a faded black T-shirt and a weathered Stetson, but nobody would ever mistake him for a simple ranch hand.
Time had added muscle to his lean six-foot three-inch frame and character to the chiseled angles of his face. What’s more, while he’d always possessed more than his share of virility, now he also radiated an air of leashed power. It was easy to see why women from sixteen to sixty turned to watch when he walked past. From the determined angle of his square jaw, to the compelling bite of his laser blue eyes and the deliberate set of his broad shoulders, he was all man.
The realization that she found him even more attractive now than she had when she was seventeen set off an alarm deep inside her.
“I was sorry to hear about Max,” he said abruptly.
She jerked her gaze to his, heat rising in her cheeks as their eyes met. Horrified he might guess what she’d been thinking, she did her best to look cool and contained. “I received your card. Thank you.”
He shrugged, the simple motion seriously straining the seams of his T-shirt. “He was a good man.”
Off balance, and unable to think about the unexpected loss of her grandfather without a piercing sense of grief, she said merely, “Yes, he was.”
“Rumor has it you’re selling the Rocking C to some big Texas cattle consortium.”
“That’s true, I am. The deal will be final in just a few days.”
He crossed his arms. “You sure didn’t waste any time unloading the place, did you?”
Eve stared at his hard, handsome face, taken aback by his obvious disapproval even as she realized he’d just given her the perfect opening. All she had to do was tell the truth—that if she hadn’t sold out to the Texans, she would have lost the ranch either to the bank or the IRS—and he’d know the gravity of her financial situation.
Yet she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—do it. Word of the disastrous investments her grandfather had made the last year of his life would no doubt eventually surface, since the Lander County ranching community was surprisingly tight-knit. But it wouldn’t come from her. Just as Max Chandler had protected her in life, Eve would protect him in death. Because she’d loved him. And because it was the very least that she owed him.
“I guess that means you’ll be taking off pretty soon,” John said in the face of her silence. “Back to Paris or New York or—where is it you’ve been living lately?”
“London,” she supplied automatically, trying to decide just how she was going to broach the reason for her visit.
She needn’t have worried. In his direct, no-nonsense way, John took care of the problem for her. “So, you going to tell me what you’re doing here or not?”
“Yes, of course. I was hoping we could talk. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
He took a cursory glance at his wristwatch, then shocked her by shaking his head. “Sorry. I’ve got a prior commitment. We’ll have to do it another time.”
“But this won’t wait!”
He shrugged, clearly unmoved. “It’ll have to. I’ve got less than fifteen minutes before I have to be somewhere.”
Struggling for composure, she turned to keep him in view as he strode up the stairs and brushed past her, trailing the scent of sunshine, horses and hard work in his wake. “Please, John,” she said, swallowing her pride. “I promise it won’t take long.”
His hand froze on the doorknob. He turned, obvious reluctance warring with curiosity—and something else she couldn’t define—in his eyes. “All right,” he said finally. “I guess if you don’t mind talking while I get washed up, I can spare you a few minutes.” Pushing open the inner door, he disappeared inside.
She stared after him, feeling both relieved and annoyed, trying to convince herself that she shouldn’t read too much into his being less than friendly. After all, he was simply treating her the way she’d treated him when they were younger.
And just like that, despite her every intention not to revisit the past, the memory of their first meeting came rushing back.
Once again it was a still summer morning. The air smelled clean and sweet, redolent with the scents of sunshine, hay and the bark chips beneath her feet as she stood in the doorway of one of the Rocking C’s roomy box stalls, stroking the warm, satiny neck of Candy Stripes, her quarter horse mare.
The two had just returned from a glorious sunrise ride and Eve vividly remembered how she’d felt at that moment: happy, gloriously alive and totally pleased with her life.
But then, why shouldn’t she be? Just seventeen, she was cherished and indulged at home and popular at school, where she was both a cheerleader and an honor student. It wasn’t surprising she’d believed the world was hers to order.
And then she’d stepped blithely into the corridor, directly into the path of a big, dark-haired stranger—and everything had changed.
He swore as she smacked into the solid wall of his chest. Yet somehow he still managed to swing the hundred-pound sack of grain he had balanced on one broad shoulder to the ground at the same time he reached out to steady her.
Startled, she’d looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. And as she took in the rest of his features—the strong cheekbones, the blade-straight nose, the chiseled lips, the silky dark hair tumbling over his brow—something unprecedented happened to her.
Heat pooled between her thighs. Her nipples contracted into stiff, aching points. The starch drained from her knees, and she couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe.
For one mad moment she wanted nothing more than to step closer, press her body against his boldly masculine one, bury her face against the pulse beating in the strong column of his throat.
She wanted to touch him and taste him… everywhere. And she wanted it so badly she ached with it.
The discovery shocked her. Confused, frightened, alarmed, she took a hasty step back, jerking away from the steely strength of his warm, calloused hand gripping her arm. “Who are you?” she demanded.
He didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he looked her over, taking note of the way she was rubbing her fingers over the spot where his hand had been. His mouth compressed slightly, but when his gaze met hers, it was coolly polite—and nothing more. “John MacLaren.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Working.”
It was bad enough that her body was still throbbing, her throat dry, her heart pounding. But even worse, he seemed completely unaffected. She lifted her chin. “Since when?”
“Since I was hired yesterday. And if you don’t mind my asking—” he shifted his weight onto one hip in a way she found both arrogant and enticing “—just who are you to be asking?”
She drew herself up a little straighter. “Eve Chandler. My grandfather owns this place.”
“Huh.”
He sounded completely unimpressed, and panicked by the storm of unfamiliar emotions roaring through her, she snapped, “And if you want to keep your job, I’d suggest you watch where you’re going from now on.”
He reached over and carelessly hefted the sack of grain onto his shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind.” With that, he’d strode away.
Eve stared after him. At any other time in her life she would have been mortified by her rude behavior. But not at that moment. Not with him. Instead, she’d told herself that John MacLaren was an arrogant bore who wasn’t worth her time.
Yet every time she’d seen him from that point forward she’d felt that same overwhelming arousal and attraction. It had embarrassed her, made her feel self-conscious and unsure of herself—a new and unwelcome experience. Worse, she’d lived in constant terror that he might discern how she felt. It was no wonder that she’d decided that it was smarter to invite his dislike than risk having him find out how vulnerable he made her feel.
And since she wasn’t about to confess the truth after all these years, she could hardly expect him to fall all over himself, welcoming her, she reminded herself now. She’d simply have to do the best she could.
And try to remember that he was her last hope. That no matter what she felt, she couldn’t afford to give up on him now.
She drew herself up and walked toward the door. Entering the house, she found herself standing in a spacious, sun-filled mudroom. She had a quick impression of a granite-tiled floor, of a wall covered with hooks that held coats, hats, chaps and all sorts of other equipment, of an alcove housing an oversize washer and dryer. To her left was even what appeared to be a spacious bathroom equipped with a glassed-in shower.
But it was the sight of John planted before a large utility sink with his back to her that commanded her attention. He’d tossed his hat on a nearby counter and yanked his dusty T-shirt out of his jeans. Now, he tugged the garment over his head and tossed it to the floor.
An unwitting voyeur, Eve stared at his smooth, sun-bronzed back, observing the muscles bunch and shift as he turned on the water, picked up the soap and proceeded to wash. When he bent to rinse off, the satiny hollow of his spine flattened out, exposing a ribbon of taut, pale skin at his belt line.
She was so transfixed that she almost didn’t look away in time as he abruptly shut off the water, grabbed a towel and swiveled around. “Well?” He waited expectantly.
