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Justin wrapped his fingers around hers and felt a sizzle all the way up his arm. That was enough to make him want the next job applicant to actually be Mary Poppins. He needed to hire someone right away. His current nanny was very close to leaving him in a real bind when she headed back to the Sunshine State.
So far, Emma Robbins was the most qualified applicant, if her references checked out. That made her the leading candidate. On the downside, he was too aware of her as a woman.
Nothing about that made him feel better.
* * *
Emma drove up the hill to Justin Flint’s impressive, two-story house. After parking, she took a good look. The place was big and located in the exclusive, custom-home development of Lake View Estates. She took a deep breath and exited the car. The wraparound front porch had a white railing that opened to double front doors with etched glass. Light danced through it and was like a beacon of welcome.
“Homey,” she whispered to herself. The warmth was unexpected. Maybe she’d been expecting pretentious from the renowned Beverly Hills plastic surgeon.
She walked up the three stairs and pushed the doorbell, then heard footsteps just on the other side. Bracing herself to face Justin Flint again, she wasn’t prepared for the short, plump, fiftyish blonde woman who opened the door.
“I’m Sylvia Foster.”
“Emma Robbins,” she said, extending her hand.
“My replacement.” Blue eyes twinkled good-naturedly.
“That’s my hope, but I’m happy just to have a second interview.” Emma hadn’t expected it. The doctor had seemed distant after they’d shaken hands.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he’s desperate. I gave him an ultimatum and it wasn’t easy. Breaks my heart to leave this baby. But...”
“He told me your first grandchild is due soon.”
“A boy,” Sylvia revealed, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “I’m so torn. I’ll miss Kyle terribly, but my three children are in Southern California, not to mention a sister and brother. My whole family is there.”
A little voice chattered unintelligible sounds behind her and she turned. On the gorgeous dark-wood entryway floor was the doctor’s son, crawling toward the open door as fast as he could.
The older woman tsked, although there was no scolding in the sound. “Kyle Flint, just where do you think you’re going?”
She started to bend and grab him as he scooted by her with every intention of getting outside. Emma squatted on the porch side of the low threshold and looked up at the older woman.
“It took a lot of energy for him to make a break for it. Would it be okay if he comes out just for a minute? A little reward to encourage his sense of exploration?”
“I like the way you think.” Sylvia nodded and watched the baby touch the slats separating his protected world from the unknown beyond.
He sat and slapped it a few times before going on all fours again and venturing out. Turning wide eyes, his father’s gray eyes, on Emma, he took her measure. Just as the doctor had done.
“Hi, cutie.” She let him look, get used to her. Overwhelming him with verbal, visual and tactile stimuli could be disconcerting to the little guy.
After several moments, he crawled outside and over to her, putting a chubby hand on her thigh. Then he boosted himself to a standing position.
“He’s pretty steady,” she observed. “Is he walking yet?”
“Not quite,” Sylvia confirmed. “He’s a little hesitant to take that first step.”
Emma knew how he felt. She had a family here in Blackwater Lake that she hadn’t known about until just before her “mother” died. The woman had confessed to kidnapping Emma as an infant from people who lived in this town. Shock didn’t begin to express how she’d felt at hearing the words, and she was still struggling to wrap her head around it all.
This trip to Montana was about her own personal exploration. She’d been in town for three and a half weeks, checked out the diner that her biological parents owned and managed. But she hadn’t taken the next step of telling them who she was. Everything would change for them and there’d be no going back. She wasn’t sure turning their world upside down all over again was the right thing to do. Observation showed that they’d found some sort of peace, and learning the truth might not be for the best.
The little boy slapped her jeans-clad leg and grinned as he took steps while barely holding on.
“Hey, buddy,” she crooned. “You’re a handsome little guy.”
“A heartbreaker in training, just like his father,” Sylvia said.
Emma wondered if Justin warned women away because he didn’t want to break hearts. He was a doctor, after all, a healer. Or maybe he really wasn’t looking for anyone because he was still grieving the wife he’d lost in a car accident. She’d checked him out on the internet and there was a lot of information on the celebrity plastic surgeon who’d given up fame and fortune due to shock and grief over losing the woman he’d loved.
An expensive silver SUV pulled up in front of the house and parked behind the little compact she’d rented at the airport nearly a hundred miles from Blackwater Lake. So the doctor was in. If this second interview went as she hoped, she’d have her car shipped from California and return the rental. The next few minutes would determine her course of action.
“Daddy’s home, Kyle.” Sylvia smiled at the baby and clapped her hands.
“Da—” he gurgled.
“Aren’t you smart,” Emma said.
She stood, gently holding the baby’s upper arm to keep him from falling. Bending, she held out her hand to see if he was willing to be picked up by a stranger. He smiled and bounced, holding out his arms.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said, lifting him up and cuddling him against her. “You’re a heavy boy.”
Justin got out of the car and walked toward them, then up the steps. A man who looked as tired as he did had no right to still be so handsome. His short dark hair was sticking up a little, as if he’d run his fingers through it more than once that day. Piercing gray eyes grew tender when he looked at his son. In that moment he was an open book and it was as if the hidden path to his soul were exposed. He could have been a troll, but the feelings so evident on his face made him nearly irresistible.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, stopping beside Emma. “There was an emergency.”
“Everything okay?” she asked, automatically swaying from side to side with the baby in her arms. Kyle had discovered the chain around her neck and the butterfly charm attached to it.
“A little girl had a run-in with broken glass.” The doctor’s eyes turned dark and intense when he looked at her holding his son.
“Is she okay?”
“I gave her my personal guarantee that when she’s wearing her high school cheerleader uniform, no one will ever know she had stitches in her knee when she was eight.”
“So you’re a hero,” Sylvia said.
“I wouldn’t say that, but if you’re passing out compliments...” He held out his arms. “Hey, buddy. Can I have a hug?”
The baby turned away and buried his face in Emma’s shoulder. Not her fault, but not how a father away at work all day wanted to be greeted by the child he clearly adored.
“Hey, sweetie, want to say hi to your dad?” She wouldn’t hand the boy over to his father until he was ready, or the doctor insisted.
“That’s not like him,” Sylvia commented. “Usually he crawls up and into your arms. I think he likes Emma. Seems very comfortable with her. Just my opinion as his primary caregiver, but you should hire her.”
“And that judgment has nothing to do with the fact that you’re about to leave me in the lurch.”
“You’re an evil man, Dr. Flint,” Sylvia teased. “I don’t have enough mother’s guilt, so you feel the need to pile on more?”
“Would I do that?”
“In a heartbeat,” the older woman said good-naturedly.
“Let’s go inside.” Dr. Flint gave no hint about whether or not he was annoyed.
Emma followed the older woman into a big entryway with a circular table holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. Twin stairways on either side led to the second story. To the left was a large formal dining room with a dark, cherrywood table and eight matching chairs. Directly to the right was the living room with a striped sofa in rust, brown and beige. Two wing chairs in a floral print with coordinating colors were arranged in front of a raised-hearth fireplace.
As they walked toward the back of the house, the little boy wiggled to get down. Emma set him on his tush, making sure he was stable before straightening. He crawled over to his father and pulled himself up before strong arms grabbed him and held him close.
“Hey, I missed you today, buddy.”
He nuzzled the boy’s neck and the child began to giggle. After a few moments, he pushed to get down and his father complied.
“Why don’t you talk to Emma in your office,” Sylvia suggested. “I’ll take this little man to the kitchen and feed him.”
“That would be great, Syl. Miss Robbins?”
“Lead the way,” she said.
She followed him down a hall off the family room into his office where there was a large, flat-topped desk and computer. Two chairs sat in front of it and he indicated she should take one. She did, and looked around as he sat in the black leather chair behind the desk.
“This is surprisingly homey,” Emma said.
“Why surprising?”
In a perfect world, Emma thought, she would have kept that observation in her head. Since it was out, she had to explain.
“I did an online search on you.”
“So you checked me out.” One corner of his mouth lifted.
“It’s not like you weren’t warned.”
He didn’t look at all bothered. “And?”
“You were the plastic surgeon to the stars. The go-to guy for new noses, lips and—” She glanced down at her chest, which suddenly felt woefully inadequate. Then she looked up and saw the amusement in his gaze. “Other things.”
“I do more than that.”
“So I found out. Doctors Without Borders. Trips to Central America to work on children with cleft palates. Donating your time to Heal the Children.”
“The specialty is more than just changing parts of the body a person doesn’t like.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Most plastic surgery isn’t cosmetic. It involves reconstruction. The adjective plastic in front of surgery means sculpting.”
“Very interesting.”
“I correct functional impairment caused by traumatic injuries, infection or disease—cancer or tumors. Sometimes a procedure is done to approximate a normal appearance. Trauma initiates sudden change, which can cause depression, make a person question who they are.”
Emma had questioned who she was every day since her mother’s deathbed confession about stealing her from another family when she was a baby. Plastic surgery couldn’t fix her. There was no procedure that would restore what she or her biological family had lost.
“Is it my imagination, or did you quote all that from Wikipedia because you’re the tiniest bit defensive about public perception regarding your field of expertise?”
“No. Maybe.” His grin was a little sheepish, a little boyish and a whole lot of sexy. “Sorry. Since moving to Blackwater Lake, I’ve been reeducating the locals who want Angelina Jolie’s lips or George Clooney’s chin.”
“Really? Men?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“For the record, I think what you do is very impressive.” She held up her hand. “Again, not flirting or flattering. Just stating the truth as I see it.”
He leaned back in the chair, more relaxed now. “Suddenly I feel like the one being interviewed.”
“It was more like adding context to the information on the internet.”
“I think that was a diplomatic way of saying that I like to talk about myself.” There was laughter in his eyes, making them sparkle. Very different from the gray intensity that reminded her of a storm.
“You said it.” She liked that he could make fun of himself.
“Speaking of interviews... Why are you surprised my house is homey?”
Too much to hope he’d been distracted enough not to remember that comment. She took a deep breath. “You made a lot of money doing what you did in Beverly Hills. I just figured your home would be chrome, glass, electronic gizmos, sculptures and art that cost the equivalent of a small country’s gross national product.”
His mouth pulled tight for a moment. “That was then, this is Montana. I wanted a change.”
“Because of losing your wife?” Emma winced as the words came out of her mouth. She could kiss this job goodbye. If she ever faced her biological mother, one of the things she wanted to know was which side of the family to blame for this chronic foot-in-mouth problem. “Sorry. That’s none of my business. You’re supposed to be asking the questions.”
“I am, but you touched on something important. Kyle will never know his mother, and whoever looks after him will be dealing with that issue as he gets older.”
“Of course. You’ll want to keep her memory alive.”
“For my son.”
For you, too, she wanted to say, but the sadness in his eyes stopped her. Obviously it hurt to talk about the woman. He’d probably moved here because it was too painful to live in the house and city he’d shared with the wife he loved. He’d run from his own memories but wanted to make sure his son knew about his mother.
She could relate to that. The only mother Emma had ever known wasn’t really her mother and she knew next to nothing about her real family. From her perspective, information about a parent was priceless.
She’d brought up the topic but sensed he wanted to change it. “Your son is a charmer.”
“He’s got me wrapped around his finger.” The shadows lifted from his face, leaving a tender expression.
“I can see why. So good-natured.” Her cheeks grew warm remembering her own words about the boy being as handsome as the father. It was true, but she still wished to have the comment back.
“He seemed to take to you.” Those eyes zeroed in on her and turned darker, more observant. “Something I needed to know. Which is why I wanted to do the second interview here at the house in Kyle’s environment.”
“I understand.”
He nodded. “Your background check didn’t turn up anything. I talked to your previous employers, who all said I’d be crazy not to hire you.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“In fact, one woman I talked to said you were personally responsible for her decision to quit her job and be a stay-at-home mother.”
