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It was about damn time.
He moved to the window and frowned at the sight of Punch Wilkins’s pickup bouncing up the dirt road from the main highway. What the hell was the gas station attendant from Harmony doing here?
Of course. The Delaney woman’s rental car must have broken down. He should have considered that. Dust billowed behind Punch’s truck as he pulled off the dirt road onto the circular driveway in front of Logan’s house. Logan watched Punch hop out of the cab of his truck and reach into the back bed. He pulled out a suitcase and garment bag and another small case. The passenger door of the cab opened, but he couldn’t see the woman when she stepped out.
Logan turned to his daughter. “See, honey, I told you—”
But Anna had disappeared. It was no surprise. He knew how difficult it was for her to meet strangers. He’d coax her out later, after he’d spoken to and finalized everything with the new nanny.
He moved to the front door and opened it. Punch stood there, his fist in the air, ready to knock. His large frame blocked Logan’s view of the woman standing behind him.
“Howdy,” Punch said with a silly grin on his face. “Brought your new nanny to ya.”
“Thanks.” Logan reached for the suitcase and stepped aside. Punch moved into the entry past Logan and headed for the living room.
A tall, slender, distinctly feminine figure wearing a large gray hat stepped in front of him. Oh, no, he groaned silently when he noticed the violin case she held in front of her. Anything but that.
Slowly she tipped her head back. When her smoky green eyes met his, his throat went as dry as the dust still swirling outside from Punch’s truck.
Who the hell was this woman?
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said with a touch of breathlessness to her voice. “Transportation here was much more difficult than I’d anticipated. I’m Kat Delaney.”
She held out one delicate, finely sculptured hand. In a daze, Logan took it. He had the distinct sensation of silk against sandpaper. Her fingers were long and tapered, her skin smooth and incredibly soft, like nothing he’d ever felt before.
Kat Delaney? This couldn’t be the woman he’d hired.
She shifted uncomfortably when he said nothing. “You, ah, must be Logan Kincaid.”
He had to think for a moment. “There must be some mistake.”
She frowned. “You aren’t Mr. Kincaid?”
“That’s not what I mean.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m talking about you.”
“Me?” she said hesitantly, then slipped her hand from his when he didn’t let go.
“The woman I hired is supposed to be fifty-four,” he said impatiently. “You’re not, I mean you aren’t—”
“Fifty-four?” She raised one finely arched brow. “I’m twenty-four, Mr. Kincaid. That’s what I put on the application.”
Twenty-four? Logan tried to remember the application. The fax had come in a little fuzzy, but still, how could he have made a mistake like that? He never would have hired a younger woman to take care of Anna. Maturity and experience were a necessary and important element of caring for his daughter. What could a twenty-four-year-old know about raising children?
He stared down at her. She was taller than most women, maybe around five-foot-eight, but still a good eight inches shorter than him. She wore no makeup, but her dark, thick lashes outlined wide, slightly slanted eyes. Her high cheeks glowed with color, though he assumed the heat was responsible for the flush on her skin.
“Hey, Logan,” Punch called from the living room, “got a cold one?”
“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning, Punch,” Logan said with more annoyance than he intended. “There’s ice tea in the fridge.” He looked at Kat. “Can I, uh, get you something?”
“In a minute, thank you.” She swept off her hat. “The ride here with Mr. Wilkins was a bit overwhelming. I just need a minute or two to catch my breath.”
So do I, Logan thought as he watched the woman shake her long golden brown curls away from her face. She wore white, the color no more practical on a Texas ranch than her high heels or slim-fitting skirt and tank top. She’d pushed the sleeves of her matching cardigan up to her elbows, revealing long, graceful arms. He would have offered to take her sweater, but since she wasn’t staying, he didn’t bother.
She might belong on the cover of a fashion magazine, but she sure as hell didn’t belong on his ranch.
“Hey, Logan,” Punch yelled from the kitchen, “you gonna eat these tamales in here?”
Anyone other than Punch, Logan would have strongly warned against Sophia’s cooking. But considering the mood he was in, he needed to vent on someone. “Help yourself,” he called back.
He closed the front door, then turned back to the woman standing in front of him, her hat in one hand and a violin case in the other. Damn, but this was awkward.
“Miss Delaney—”
“Kat.”
“Kat, I—”
“Hey, Logan, how do you work this here microwave?”
He was going to murder the man. No, better yet, he’d give him the leftover enchiladas to go with the tamales. He looked at Kat and frowned. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Kat let loose of the breath she’d been holding when Logan disappeared around the corner. Her insides were shaking and her palms were sweating. She’d given countless performances in front of thousands of people, but never had she been more nervous than she was right now. Her training had taught her to hide her fear, but nothing had ever prepared her for Logan Kincaid.
His height had been the first thing that had taken her aback. He was tall, probably around six-foot-four, with broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms. He wore a denim work shirt, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and snug, faded jeans over long, powerfully built legs. His hair was black, his eyes darker than any eyes she’d ever seen. When he’d first looked at her, she’d felt as if she were made of glass, and she might shatter under his piercing gaze.
But the fact that he was handsome wasn’t what had knocked the sense out of her. She met handsome men all the time. Not one had ever left her weak-kneed or light-headed. No, Mr. Kincaid was just so... male. At the most basic, the most primitive level, the man exuded virility. He was a masculine feast for the feminine senses: the rough, electric texture of his hands, the deep rugged sound of his voice, the faint, strangely pleasant smell of dust and dirt and leather. Just looking at him had made her pulse rate increase, and when he’d held her hand in his, pleasure had rippled through her entire body.
Had he noticed the color rise to her cheeks? she wondered. Something told her there was very little that Logan Kincaid missed with those eyes of his. Had Oliver been right? Could Mr. Kincaid know just by looking at her that she really wasn’t a nanny?
Of course he couldn’t. She was just tense. After all, she’d flown the red-eye, waited three hours for the first bus out of Dallas to Harmony—which was a four-hour ride—an hour trying to find someone to drive her here from the town, and at least thirty minutes bouncing in a truck. She was also in a completely new environment, meeting a strange man about a new job.
She had good reason to be high-strung, and that would certainly explain her physical reaction to Mr. Kincaid, she told herself. She was just tired and on edge. A good night’s sleep and she’d be fit as a fiddle.
Smiling at her own pun, Kat moved into the living room. She’d immediately liked the house when Mr. Wilkins had driven up. It was single story, a redbrick ranch-style structure with a wide, cement circular driveway and gently sloping gray tile entry. The living room was spacious, with a high, vaulted ceiling, hardwood floors and a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. The furniture was large and masculine, like the man himself, and the few pieces of art were a blend of American Indian and the Old West. It was a warm, comfortable room, not like the man himself.
A movement from a doorway across the room caught Katrina’s attention. “Hello?”
There was no answer. With her violin and hat still in her hand, Kat moved toward the doorway. “Hello?” she called again. “Is someone there?”
Again, no answer, but there was a sound, a soft, swooshing sound. Kat stopped, then watched as a young, blond child in a wheelchair appeared in the doorway. She was a beautiful little girl with pale, smooth skin and enormous gray eyes. In her plain brown jumper and white blouse, the child almost blended in with the room.
“Hello.” Kat smiled. “I’m Kat.”
The child said nothing, just stared at the violin case and hat in Kat’s hand.
“What’s your name?” Kat moved in front of the little girl and knelt down.
“Anna,” she answered quietly.
“Nice to meet you, Anna.” Kat put her hand out Anna stared at it, then slowly put her small hand in Kat’s.
“I’m your new nanny,” Kat said. “But I’d rather you just thought of me as one of your friends, if that’s okay.”
“I don’t have very many friends,” Anna said softly.
Anna’s statement didn’t surprise Kat. A disabled child living on a ranch outside a small town raised by nannies probably didn’t get to meet a lot of other children. Neither did a child prodigy living in New York with well-meaning, but ambitious parents.
“I don’t have very many friends, either,” Kat said warmly. “But we each have one new one, starting right now.”
Anna smiled shyly. “You don’t look like a nanny.”
Kat laughed. “Thanks, I think.”
“Is that a violin?” Anna stared at the case in Kat’s hand.
“Why, yes it is, would you like to—”
“Miss Delaney.”
Kat jumped up at the sound of Logan’s voice behind her. She had no idea why he would be, but she could have sworn he sounded angry.
Logan’s tight expression softened when he looked at his daughter. “Anna, I’ve asked Sophia to make you some lunch. Why don’t you go on in the kitchen and say hello to Punch while I speak with Miss Delaney.”
Anna looked from her father to Kat, then nodded reluctantly and left the room. When Logan turned to her and frowned, Kat felt a tremor of apprehension low in her stomach.
“You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Thanks.” Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Miss Delaney—”
He’d called her by her formal name three times in the past two minutes. Something was wrong, she realized. Very wrong.
“—I know you came a great distance to get here. It’s not an easy drive to Harmony, and riding with Punch was no picnic, either, I’m sure.”
Something told her he wasn’t about to discuss the discomfort of her transportation here. She drew in a slow, deep breath to steady herself, certain she wasn’t going to like whatever it was he was going to say. “Why don’t you just get to the point, Mr. Kincaid.”
“I’m afraid you aren’t going to work out, after all.”
Her heart sank. He knew. That had to be it. He knew she’d never been a nanny, maybe even figured out somehow what she really did do, and that while she hadn’t lied on her application about anything, she had withheld information about herself that he might consider important.
She struggled to keep her voice even and her shoulders straight. “And may I ask why?”
“It’s my fault completely,” Logan said with obvious difficulty. “There were some streaks in the fax transmission you sent, and I misread the application. I thought you were older.”
He was letting her go because she was too young, not because he knew who she was? Relief washed through her, then disbelief.
“Let me get this straight,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “I fly hundreds of miles, wait three hours for a bus that I ride on for almost four hours, then hire Wildman Wilkins to drive me here, and you’re telling me you’ve changed your mind because I’m too young?”
“Look, Miss Delaney, I’m sorry about this. I’ll pay for any expenses you’ve incurred, and give you a week’s salary. That should take care of any inconvenience I’ve caused you.”
She couldn’t believe this. After all she’d gone through to get here, everything she’d planned, he was firing her? “You’re sorry?” she repeated. “A week’s salary?”
His eyes narrowed. “All right, then, two weeks’.”
She had to choke back the hysterical laughter bubbling in her throat. “Are you saying you’d rather pay me off, than give me a chance?”
“I’ve admitted I made a mistake,” he said stiffly. “Anna needs someone older, with more experience.”
Of all the stubborn—Katrina took a calming breath and leveled her gaze with his. “Was there anything else you misread on my application or credentials? Something that you find objection to?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Do you have someone else for this job?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Not at the moment.”
“Then who’s going to take care of Anna until you find someone?”
Logan had already been asking himself that very question. He did need someone. Now, not next week or the week after. But he had no intention of hiring someone as young as Kat Delaney, and certainly not someone as pretty.
He surprised himself by that thought. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that he could control his baser instincts...he could. But he’d been busy with the ranch and Anna, and he’d been without female companionship for a long time. A woman who looked like Kat might be a distraction. A distraction he didn’t want, and he sure as hell didn’t need.
He could hardly tell her that, though. Gee, Miss Delaney, I can’t hire you because I’d like to drag you to my bed.
“I have a part-time housekeeper. We’ll manage until I find someone else.” They might starve to death, he thought, but somehow he would manage. “I’ll have Punch drive you back to town,” he said evenly. “I can give you a check now or send it to the address on your application.”
Her green eyes darkened as she lifted her chin. “Don’t bother. I don’t want your money, and I have no intention of going home. I came here to Harmony to work for the summer and that’s what I intend to do. I’m sure I’ll find something else.”
Logan shook his head. “You can’t be serious. Harmony is a small town. There won’t be much use for a violin-toting nanny.”
“I’m a hard worker, Mr. Kincaid. Reliable and trustworthy. Qualities that most people admire.”
Logan frowned. She’d emphasized the word trustworthy, the implication being that he wasn’t. She was wrong for the job, dammit. That didn’t make him dishonest or unscrupulous. “Maybe I should drive you back to town. I could—”
“No, thank you.” She jammed her hat on her head and struggled to pick up both of her suitcases. “Please tell Mr. Wilkins I’ll wait for him in the truck. Good day to you.”
He would have offered to carry her luggage for her, but something told him if he tried, he just might have a violin crammed down his throat.
She stopped at the door, and without turning around, said quietly, “Would you object to my visiting Anna while I’m in Harmony? Maybe just for an occasional afternoon, or sometime when you come into town?”
Her question caught him off guard, then settled over him like a net of guilt. “You can come here anytime you want.”
She nodded, then wrestled with her suitcases while she opened the front door and closed it behind her. Logan started after her, then stopped and swore heatedly. He’d already admitted to her he’d made a mistake, he had no intention of going after the woman and trying to explain further.
Why the hell should he feel guilty? He’d offered compensation, hadn’t he? And he certainly didn’t believe she would actually stay in Harmony. She was a city girl. One day in a sleepy little town like Harmony and the woman would be on her way.
Whatever she did, it didn’t matter to him. He had no time to think about a curvy, green-eyed brunette with incredible legs. There were more important things to worry about right now, such as finding an appropriate nanny for Anna.
With a heavy sigh, Logan went to the kitchen to get Punch, wondering where in the hell he was going to find the perfect woman.
