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“Yes, my darling.” Felicity injected all the assurance she could into her words. “I promise.”
If there was one thing he hated, it was the smell of burned toast.
It hailed Jordan as he strolled along the corridor to the kitchen next morning, and set his teeth on edge.
She wasn’t to have known, of course, that toast always stuck in that old toaster; a person had to stand beside it and pop the toast up when it looked ready. Still, she shouldn’t even have been downstairs, far less making toast! She should have had the savvy to stay upstairs till after he’d gone. She must know how he felt about her; and the last thing he’d want was to have to make conversation with Denny Fairfax’s sister at the best of times…and first thing in the morning, before he’d even had his first mug of coffee, was certainly not that.
Surly, and prepared to be curt, though not to the point of rudeness, because dammit, he needed her—at least for the time being!—he shoved the kitchen door open.
And found the room empty.
Oh, she’d been down all right, and not too long ago. The smell of burned toast was even more cloying in here. The sweetish aroma of strawberry tea fought a losing battle for survival under it.
A black-and-red tea caddy, with a pattern of dragons, sat on the counter.
A note on the table read “Your Toaster’s Broken.”
And over by the back door, on the gleaming white-tiled floor, her cat was throwing up.
“Good morning, Jordan!” Bette welcomed him with a cheery smile. “Glad to see you back…and you’re the first one in!” She ran an approving glance over him. “Looking like your old self, too. Nice shave, hair immaculate, no pink hairbrushes peeking out of your pocket! So I gather you’ve solved your problems with Mandy? You’ve found someone reliable? You’re—”
“Yes, yes…and yes, to whatever your third question was going to be.” Jordan ran frustrated fingers through his hair, making a mockery of Bette’s “immaculate” comment. “Java, Bette. Please tell me you’ve made the coffee?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I have. But you don’t usually have any here till midmorning. You always have coffee at home first thing in the morning to set you up—”
“Not this morning, I didn’t!” He was already halfway to the staff room. Over his shoulder, he threw back, “Not with that darned cat throwing up all over the place.”
The coffeepot was full. He took his mug from the cupboard—the one he’d got last Christmas from Mandy with her picture on it. According to the child, “Fizzy” had had it done at a photo shop, ’specially for him.
He’d never met “Fizzy,” his daughter’s baby-sitter, but he’d appreciated the thought that had gone into the gift. He’d always meant to let her know, but time had slipped away from him…and then…it was too late. The very name “Fairfax” had become anathema to him, and “Fizzy” Fairfax was the last person in the world with whom he’d wanted to become involved in any way, shape or form—
“Cat?” Bette materialized at his side. “You can’t stand cats! What was a cat doing in your kitchen?”
Jordan filled his mug with coffee. “You don’t want to know.”
“But I do.”
Bette Winslow had been married four times, and had, she often said, “Seen it all.” In her early fifties, she had the kind of personality that invited confidences—and all the agents knew that Bette in Reception was closer than a clam.
Jordan was a private person and normally he didn’t talk to outsiders about his personal problems. Today, however, frustration had him wanting to tell someone about his impossible situation. And if anyone would listen and show him sympathy, it would surely be Bette.
He added milk to his coffee, and drank half of the teeming mug in one long swallow.
Only then did he set the mug on the table, fold his arms over his chest, and say, “It’s Felicity Fairfax’s cat.”
Like everyone else in the office, Bette had learned that his wife and Denny Fairfax had been having an ongoing affair during the several months before Denny had smashed up his sports car, killing Marla in the process and sending himself into a coma. And she must know how he would feel about any of the Fairfaxes.
“So,” she said, “you’ve rehired Felicity Fairfax to baby-sit Mandy, and she’s going to live in.”
Bette, he mused, never needed to have things spelled out. “Right,” he said.
“A wise decision.”
“I had no other choice. My hours are erratic, you know I work late more often than not, and I couldn’t go leaving Mandy with her while I’m closing some late-night sale or—”
“I meant it was a wise decision to rehire Felicity Fairfax. I don’t know her, but my cousin Joanne does, and she has only the nicest things to say about her.”
“You missed my point, Bette. It wasn’t a so-called ‘wise decision’ to rehire the woman. A Fairfax is the last person I’d have hired, if I’d had a choice. I hadn’t.”
“You’re not telling me, Jordan Maxwell, that you’re tarring the sister with the same brush you were quite justified in tarring her brother with!” Censure tinged Bette’s voice. “For heaven’s sake, Jordan, the girl—”
“She’s not a girl!” He felt like a schoolboy put out after being reprimanded by a favorite teacher. “She’s a woman, and one I don’t want to be around.” He sounded, now, like a sulky schoolboy, and that irritated him.
“You have to put Mandy first. She’s the one who’s important here…not you. The poor child lost not only her mother but the baby-sitter she loved. I know she adores you but she needs a mother—or at least, a female to mother her. I don’t think you’d have had quite so serious a problem with her if she’d lost just one care-giver—in that case, she’d have been able to turn to the other for comfort.”
“I know that,” he growled. “You don’t have to…” His voice trailed away as a thought occurred to him.
“Then what are you going to do, Jordan? I don’t see a way out. You’re determined to do what’s best for Mandy, but you’re just as determined to dislike this woman. Children sense conflict. It’s the last thing Mandy needs.”
“Don’t worry.” Jordan put his hand in the small of Bette’s back and ushered her toward the door. “What you said just now…you’ve given me an idea.” Smiling, he escorted her through to the reception area. “Thanks to you, I believe I see a way out of my dilemma.”
Felicity looked down at her sleeping charge and wondered if she’d ever felt happier. She’d told Joanne the truth when she’d said she couldn’t have loved Mandy more if she were her own child. Being here, caring for her again, was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.
Her heart went all mushy now as she gazed upon the little girl, who looked adorable in sleep. Her bubbly blond curls were tousled, her cheeks were flushed to the same pink as her nightie, and her rosebud mouth pouted, as if she were blowing bubbles in her dreams.
She looked like a fairy…but at the thought, Felicity frowned, wondering again why Jordan still put her to bed in her crib. She reminded herself to ask him about it.
In the meantime, she was looking forward to spending the day with Mandy and wished she would wake up!
As if the child had read her mind, she opened her eyes and when she saw Felicity, her face split in a smile.
She scrambled to her feet. “Fizzy! You’re still here!”
“Of course I’m here, darling. Didn’t I tell you I always would be?”
“Let me out! Out, out, out!”
Laughing, Felicity unhooked the side of the crib and slid it down. Then taking both Mandy’s hands, she encouraged the child to jump, and swung her down, her narrow feet landing with a light thump on the carpet.
“I’ve been waiting for you to waken,” Felicity said, “so we can start our first day here together.”
Ten minutes later, they were on their way downstairs, with Mandy wearing the yellow T-shirt and shorts she’d chosen from her wardrobe, with a pair of yellow sandals.
“After breakfast,” Felicity said, “We’ll go out for a walk. But before we go out, would you like to show me over the whole house? It’s lovely, but so big. I’m sure to get lost if you don’t show me where everything is.”
“And I’ll show you outside, too.” Mandy skipped along happily. “There’s a garden, and a greenhouse, and a hot tub. Daddy sometimes uses the hot tub, but only in the winter. He says it’s for grown-ups, to relax after a hard day. Do you have hard days, Fizzy?”
She’d had some very hard days over the last three months, but now, thanks to whichever angel was sitting on her shoulder, life was going to be wonderful.
“From today on,” she said, “for me…and for you, Mandy dear…the hard days are over.”
Jordan didn’t get home till after seven.
Silence met him as he walked into the foyer. He stood and listened. Not a sound…except for the steady tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the stairwell—a clock he personally thought looked hideous. The price had also been hideous, but Marla had wanted it so Marla had bought it.
He pushed the memory away.
With his linen jacket slung over his arm, he tugged the knot of his tie loose and made for the stairs. Ascending with barely a sound, he reflected that it was a very long time since he’d sensed peace in the place.
And it was peace he needed.
First day back on the job, he’d scrambled to catch up—contacting clients, checking new listings, dealing with an irate couple whose newly purchased condo had sprung a leak just days after they took possession…
He would shower, go down to the kitchen and rustle up a sandwich. And he’d take it—along with a beer—to the lounge, where he’d put up his feet and read the newspaper. Thank the Lord the Fairfax woman was keeping out of his way. He saw, when he reached the landing, that her bedroom door was closed. With a bit of luck, he mused, she was in there and would stay there.
The cat, he hoped, was in there, too.
Mandy’s door was half open, the heavy curtains closed, the night-light on.
He moved the door gently in, and tiptoed to the crib.
She was sound asleep; he could hear her soft breathing.
He leaned over and with a tender hand, touched her fine curly hair.
“Good night, princess,” he whispered. “Daddy loves you, and things are going to be much better from now on. Just don’t go getting too attached to your precious Fizzy again, because I’m going to ease her out of here as soon as I can find someone else to look after you. But don’t worry, honey, I’ll do it in such a way you’ll never even notice she’s gone.”
He stood there a while longer, thinking, listening to her breathe, mulling over his plan.
And then, after blowing her one last little kiss, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
“What an absolute snake!”
Shooting up to a sitting position in Mandy’s single bed, Felicity hissed out the words as she stared, outraged, at his back and the closing door.
Because Mandy hadn’t wanted her to leave after she’d been put down in her crib for the night, Felicity had offered to stay with her till she slept, and had lain on the bed.
But she had fallen asleep herself.
She’d wakened when she’d sensed someone in the room. She’d been drowsy at first, but had come fully awake when she’d heard Jordan Maxwell warn his sleeping daughter not to get too attached to her “precious Fizzy again”—because he was planning to get rid of her.
Well, she wasn’t about to be got rid of.
And forewarned was forearmed.
But what could he have in store for her?
What was his devious plan?
Whatever it was, she’d better get out of Mandy’s room right now in case he came back.
She snuck across the room, peeked out to ensure the coast was clear, and then dashed to her own room.
Once she closed the door, she could hear the sound of water running nearby. His bedroom must be next to hers. Had he just come home? If so, he was probably taking a shower before going down for his evening meal.
She waited, with her ears pricked, and a short while later she heard his bedroom door open. Taking in a deep breath, she opened her own door and casually stepped out.
She almost bumped into him.
“Oh!” She gave him a fake-surprised smile. “You’re home! Your dinner’s in the oven, Jordan. Shepherd’s pie, I hope you like it. I’ll come down with you, and tell you all about the lovely day Mandy and I have had.”
CHAPTER THREE
FELICITY FAIRFAX was the last person he wanted to chat to…if he happened to be in a chatty mood, which he most definitely was not!
But of course he did want to know how Mandy had been.
“Fine.” His tone was gruff, his manner abrupt as he took off across the landing…with her at his heels. “You can talk while I make myself a snack.”
“I said I’d made shepherd’s—”
“I don’t want you cooking for me.” He bounded down the stairs…but she stuck to him like a shadow. “I’m used to looking after myself.”
“Mandy says you fired your housekeeper after your—”
“I’ve never liked strangers around the place.” There, that should knock some of the pep out of her. “When I come home from the office, the last thing I want is to have to make small talk with—”
“That’s you. But what about Mandy? Who’s been making her meals for the past three months?”
“I have.” He leaped down the last few steps in one bound.
She scuttled down after him. “You can cook?”
His heels clicked on the marble foyer as he crossed to the kitchen corridor. The lighter, dainty click of her sandals irritated him. “Sufficiently well to keep us from starving.”
He slid the kitchen door open and stood back to let her enter first. As he followed, he was so taken up with the delicious savoury aroma in the air, he almost tripped over the cat which suddenly scooted out from under the table.
“Sorry,” she said. And obviously sensing his displeasure, added, “I’ll pop him down to the laundry room.”
“Can’t you just put the beast outside?”
“He needs a few days to get his bearings, take over his new territory, before I can give him that freedom. He’d probably rocket away and then not be able to find his way back…and it would break my heart to lose him.”
Break her heart to lose a cat? What kind of a heart did the woman have, that it could be broken so easily!
She went out into the corridor with the mewing animal. He heard her open the door to the basement, then heard her clattering down the basement’s wooden stairs.
He turned to the fridge.
