The Rancher, the Baby & the Nanny

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“Nope.” He rested his hands on his hips again. “I’ve interviewed too many women to count and still had all those applications. I glanced through them. I’m the new guy in the neighborhood, and a lot of single women want a date. It’s not that I’m so adorable or charming. I’m just new here.”

“You’re not new at all. You grew up here,” she protested.

“I’ve been away a long time, and some people don’t know me or anything about me.”

“And how did you know that I didn’t apply because I wanted to date you?”

Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “You didn’t send me a cute, flirty rеsumе. You sounded quite earnest about the job. And when I asked if you had marriage in mind, you said no.” His brows arched. “Did I assume wrong?”

“Oh, my, no!” she replied, and saw the corners of his mouth lift in a faint smile. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “It’s just that this is a job—dating has no part in it.”

“I’m teasing. Forget it. You told me you weren’t interested.” He picked up the letters and walked around the desk to toss them in the trash.

“How do you know that there wasn’t that one perfect, older, mature, grandmotherly type in those letters?”

“I read through them. I’ve had so many interviews, I don’t think I can stand one more.”

“So I was sort of chosen by default.”

“No, not really. That day you were out here, you had a connection with Megan. That was important.”

The dining room was another large room with a fireplace. As they walked into the room, she heard a baby’s wail through the intercom.

“Megan is awake. You can come with me to get her.”

Grace hurried with him, and at the nursery door, he stepped aside to let her enter first, but then he moved past her to pick up the crying baby. As he bent over the crib, his T-shirt clung tightly, revealing the ripple of muscles. Grace watched the flex of muscles in his back and arms. His broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist and narrow hips. How was she going to work with this man daily and keep everything impersonal? Just watching him, she felt flushed and warm.

“Have you ever changed a diaper before?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. After my interview with you, I baby-sat a friend’s three-month-old baby several times so I could practice.”

“Good,” he said, holding Megan on his shoulder and patting her. She quieted and he moved to a changing table, changing her diaper swiftly and then picking her up again. “I think I better get a bottle first and then I’ll show you where all her things are and go over her schedule.”

“Let me give her the bottle so she’ll begin to get accustomed to me,” Grace said. Wyatt nodded and handed Megan to her.

“Hi, Megan,” Grace said softly, holding the baby up on her shoulder and patting her. From that moment, for the rest of the day, Grace was busy with the baby and learning about the house and schedules and what Wyatt expected.

“I’ll take care of her at night,” Wyatt said that evening when he gave Megan a bottle. “The only time you have to take over duties after bedtime is when I’m away. Whenever I’m around in the evening, I’ll take care of her.”

“I can help. After all, I’ll be here, anyway,” Grace said.

Megan was fussing and Grace and Wyatt took turns walking her, the only thing that seemed to quiet her. At one point Wyatt told Grace to eat supper. Then she looked after Megan so he could eat.

While Wyatt got Megan to sleep, Grace went to her room to unpack. She could hear him in the nursery, talking and singing softly to Megan, and later, the creak of the rocking chair.

Grace put her clothes in a large chest of drawers, looking again at the beautiful room where she would live. Too clearly, though, she could remember Wyatt standing in it, watching her curiously with his brows arched. There were moments when he seemed to focus his full attention on her, and those moments made her pulse race.

It was difficult to reconcile the man who was rocking and singing to a tiny baby in the next room with the person who ran out on a young woman he got pregnant when they were in high school. If anyone seemed the perfect, totally caring father to a baby, it was Wyatt Sawyer. Perhaps the years had changed him.

It was after midnight and the house was quiet when she showered and dressed in her short blue nightgown. She brushed out her hair, climbed into bed and fell asleep.

She had no idea what time it was when she stirred at the sound of Megan crying. She remembered Wyatt saying he would get up in the night with Megan, so she tried to go back to sleep, but the baby continued crying until finally Grace threw back the sheet and got up. She pulled on her blue cotton robe and hurried to the nursery to check on the baby. She noticed the open door to Wyatt’s room. How could he sleep through Megan’s crying?

Avoiding glancing in the direction of Wyatt’s bed, Grace rushed to close his door. While Megan cried, Grace switched on a small table lamp.

“Are you hungry, sweetie?” she asked softly, picking the baby up and walking her, trying to quiet her. She remembered where Wyatt kept formula and bottles and turned to carry Grace to the kitchen.

Just then the door to Wyatt’s room flew open. He started into the room, saw Grace with Megan and froze.

Three

Wyatt had heard Megan crying and then rolled out of bed, yanking on his briefs. For more than two weeks he’d been up most nights and he was groggy. He swung open the nursery door, started into the room and stopped abruptly. A light was on, and Grace was holding Megan in her arms.

Neither of them moved. He stared into her startled green eyes. Whatever surprise she felt, he was certain his was greater.

Coming out of a deep sleep, he had temporarily forgotten her presence. Now he faced a woman who looked entirely different from the person he’d interviewed and hired. Her riot of red hair was down, framing her face and tumbling over her shoulders. She held Megan gently in her arms. She looked disheveled, earthy, appealing. He felt something twist deep inside. She wore a cotton robe that had been pushed open by the baby resting against her. Beneath the robe she wore a skimpy, blue nightie that revealed lush breasts and long, shapely legs. His gaze snapped up to catch her looking at him, and her cheeks were pink. He realized he was only in his briefs.

“Sorry. I forgot,” he said in a husky voice.

She turned swiftly, trying to close her robe. “I’ll get her bottle. I heard her crying and didn’t think you would wake. I can take care of her.”

With Megan in her arms, Grace made her escape from the room. Wyatt still stood there in shock. He’d hired a beautiful woman. Standing there in the soft light, she’d looked gorgeous. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could erase the image and go back to seeing her as plain and his nanny and nothing more. But there was no erasing the image that taunted him now.

“Hell,” he muttered, and returned to his room to yank on his jeans. He raked his fingers through his hair and headed for the kitchen. “I knew I should have hired someone a thousand years old. A grandmother with wrinkles and experience.”

Grace was trying to mix formula with one hand, jiggling Megan who continued to cry with the other arm. Grace’s back was to the doorway, but she turned to look at him when he came in. She had her robe pulled together, but he still could imagine the delectable body underneath the cotton.

“I haven’t changed her yet,” Grace said. “If you’ll do that, I’ll have her bottle ready when you’re done and I can give it to her.”

“Sure,” he said, without thinking about what he was answering. Crossing the room, he took the baby from her. The moment he was close enough to reach for Megan, Grace looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to envelop him and pull him into depths that were filled with mystery. He could smell a fresh, soapy scent and that riotous red hair was an invitation for a man to bury his fingers in its softness. Her skin was rosy, perfect even with the smattering of freckles on her nose.

He dropped his gaze to her mouth, which was full and tempting. What would happen if he leaned down and kissed her? Even worse, as he stared at her unable to move, he could feel the tension snap in the air between them. Sparks sizzled and danced. He didn’t want any complications in his life right now, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find his nanny so physically appealing.

Tearing his eyes from her, he took the baby, too aware of his hands touching Grace as he did so. Megan had her small fist wound around the collar of Grace’s robe, pulling it open and for a brief instant, Wyatt looked at soft curves and flawless, rosy skin. His mouth went dry and he moved automatically, taking the baby and turning away.

“Come on, Megan. I’ll get you changed and fed,” he said, hurrying out of the room. His voice was husky and raw.

When in his life had he run from a good-looking woman? He was in a sweat, too aware of Grace. She hadn’t been with him twenty-four hours. He swore under his breath and looked at Megan, who was still bawling. “Sorry about my language, darlin’,” he said even though he knew she neither heard nor understood him.

He changed her diaper swiftly and scooped her up, intending to carry her back to the kitchen, but when he turned, Grace stood in the nursery doorway. She had her robe belted and buttoned, but the last button stopped above her knees. She carried the bottle and came toward him. He took a deep breath, noticing that with each step, her robe flipped open, revealing brief, tantalizing flashes of her legs. He couldn’t remember what she’d worn during the day or for her interview, but both times her legs had been covered almost to her ankles.

“Let me hold her. I’ll give her her bottle,” Grace said. “I’m not sleepy now.”

Neither was he, although for the past few nights he’d thought he would have given away the ranch just to have someone watch Megan so he could sleep.

Wordlessly, he handed over his niece, once again acutely aware of touching Grace, of standing close to her, knowing he was going through some firsts in his life. When had he ever been around a good-looking woman and not flirted with her? Never until now.

“I can feed her if you want to go back to bed,” he offered, unable to keep the gruff note out of his voice, fighting the image of Grace in bed.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I’ve been getting plenty of sleep lately, and I’ll bet you haven’t.”

“No, I haven’t. Thanks,” he said abruptly, then turned and went back to his room. He closed the door, crossed the room and punched his pillow hard. “Hellfire!” he whispered.

Grace’s soft voice singing a lullaby came through the door, and he glared at the door with his fists on his hips. Megan was quiet, and he could hear Grace singing, hear the creak of the rocker and all too well, could picture Grace holding his niece in her arms.

What was he going to do? He raked his fingers through his hair.

Eating a piece of chocolate, he paced the room and stopped to stare out the darkened window. Yard lights lit up the fenced area around his house. Beyond that, the trees created inky shadows beneath a quarter moon. It still surprised him that all this belonged to him now. Everything had happened so fast after Hank and Olivia’s fatal accident. He needed to get back to California to see about his commercial real-estate business there. He was signed up for a bull-riding event in an upcoming rodeo in Sacramento next month. He had one in San Antonio, too, the last week of July. He could either withdraw from the California rodeo, or—what he’d planned—take Megan and her nanny with him.

Scratch that plan. He raked his fingers through his hair. He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door and could still hear Grace singing softly.

He could fire her tomorrow. Just tell her it wasn’t going to work out, pay her a huge lump sum and send her packing. He could find a day care for Megan—if Stallion Pass had such a thing. He shook his head. Megan had lost her parents, and he didn’t want to cause more upheaval in her life. He wanted her cared for at home with someone he could rely on.

Someone mature, kind and loving who had already raised children and loved them. Not a little redheaded sorceress who had a body that was sinfully tempting and a sharp mind.

He had never been in a dilemma like this. Attractive, sexy women had always been part of his life, but not as employees. He groaned and raked his fingers through his hair, pacing the room.

Through the years, he and Hank had kept in touch, and as he’d promised, Hank had always kept Wyatt’s whereabouts a secret, because Wyatt had wanted to cut all ties to Stallion Pass and his father. No one here had known anything about him except Hank. Hank hadn’t even told Olivia. Wyatt remembered when Hank had called him about his will. Hank and Olivia were making wills, and he asked Wyatt if he would be Megan’s guardian if something happened to both of them. Olivia didn’t want her parents to be Megan’s guardians, because they had little interest in their granddaughter, and Olivia considered them too old to be bringing up a baby.

Wyatt had agreed, thinking the chances of Hank and Olivia dying at the same time were very slight. But the impossible had happened.

Now here he was with little Megan and in dire need of another nanny. He didn’t like the thought of going through more interviews. He paced the room and debated what to do, until he noticed the time. Grace had stopped singing and Megan had stopped crying, but he could still hear the creak of the rocking chair.

He might as well relieve Grace and let her sleep because he wasn’t going to, anyway.

“Dammit,” he whispered, still fighting to keep images of Grace out of his head, trying to ignore the instant desire that had ignited when he’d been with her.

He was tempted to get on his motorcycle and ride through the night. He sighed. This was one time he couldn’t escape. He had a baby to care for now.

He opened the door to the nursery quietly. A small lamp was still lit. It had a pink-striped shade and circus animals around its wooden base and shed a soft halo of light, leaving corners of the room in shadows.

Grace rocked, her robe open over her knees, her head tilted against the chair. Megan was sprawled against her, her little arm around Grace’s neck. With her curls framing her face, her head back to reveal the graceful curve of her pale, slender throat, Grace looked beautiful. She was both tempting and maternal with the baby in her arms. Her eyes were closed, but she rocked steadily, so he knew she had to be awake.

Megan’s eyes were also closed, but Wyatt knew how easily those brown eyes could open.

He moved closer. His pulse jumped, his mouth had gone dry and he was once again on fire. He paused before he got too close.

“Grace,” he whispered. “Why don’t you let me take her now and you go to bed?”

Her eyes came open slowly and met his, and the effect was like a blow to his middle. He wanted to lean down and kiss her. Sparks ignited and sizzled, and he couldn’t imagine that she didn’t feel something.

“I’m fine. I really don’t mind. I thought you’d be asleep,” she said, sounding sleepy.

“I can’t sleep,” he snapped. “If I’m going to be up, anyway, I might as well take her.”

Grace looked at the baby in her arms. Megan’s eyes had come open and she stared solemnly at Grace. “She’s not asleep.”

“I wish I had her energy. I’ve always thought I needed little sleep, but she can outlast me,” he said, wishing Grace would hand over Megan and get the hell out of the room. He was going to have to fire Grace. He couldn’t go through this day after day and night after night.

“I hate to disturb her,” Grace said. “She’s awake but barely, and she’s content. I’ll rock her. You go to bed. If you can’t sleep, go drink some hot chocolate.”

He wanted to gnash his teeth. “I don’t need hot chocolate,” he said abruptly, and turned to leave the room. At the door he paused. “I’m going for a ride on my bike. You can reset the alarm if you want, but Napoleon is in the yard and he’s a good watchdog. We’ve got lights everywhere around the house, too.”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll reset the alarm if I put her down and go to bed.”

He did not want to think about Grace going to bed. Under his roof, in his house, only a small room away from his. Why the hell had he hired her?

He closed the door quietly, yanked on a T-shirt and boots and pocketed his keys. He walked through the house, turned off the alarm, stepped outside and locked the door behind him.

A shaggy dog came bounding up, and Wyatt scratched his ears. “Napoleon, you watch the house, y’hear? I’ll be back.”

The dog trotted at his heels until Wyatt stepped through the back gate. He closed and latched the gate and looked at the big dog, a cross between a collie and a German shepherd. “You’re on guard now.”

The dog wagged his tail and sat. Wyatt strode across the drive into the open garage to get his bike. In minutes he roared away, racing through the night and heading up the road.

Within two hours he was back, sleepy, grumpy and as on fire as he’d been when he left. Never in his life had a woman tied him in knots like this. And she wasn’t doing anything except just being there.

“Get a grip,” he told himself, striding toward the house and praying Megan and Grace were asleep. He would take a cold shower, have a slug of whiskey and hope he could get a few hours’ sleep. He was too aware that the sun would be coming over the horizon all too soon, and he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since he had inherited Megan.

He would fire Grace. For his peace of mind, she had to go. Every time he made that decision, he thought about being in the lurch again for a nanny and all the interviews he would have to do.