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The Ties that Bind
Emilie Rose









“I don’t care how you entertain the kid. Just do it. And leave me out of it.”

Anna’s face blanched, making her freckles stand out. Pierce experienced a sudden craving for cinnamon toast—the way his mother used to make it twenty-something years ago.

He shook his head to banish the thought.

“Yessir.” She turned away to attend to the kid.

Feeling as if he’d kicked a kitten, Pierce grabbed his plate and a bottle of water and retreated to his office. He’d hired her to deal with the trivial childcare issues. He didn’t need her or her sleepy, sexy—no, not sexy—morning eyes condemning him.

What she didn’t seem to realize was that the kid would be better off if Pierce kept his distance.


Dear Reader,

When my editor asked if I’d like to write a Billionaires and Babies story, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. Who doesn’t love babies?

Except my hero, of course!

My sons are all long past the cuddly stage, and I’ve reached a point where I actually miss their squabbling and wrestling. For those of you who are still dealing with kiddie chaos, rest assured, your day to miss the madness will come all too soon.

I loved having the opportunity to throw not one, but two tiny tots at my baby-phobic hero and watching them (and Anna, the boys’ nanny) win him over. I hope you enjoy watching Pierce succumb to Anna and the pint-size charmers, too.

I enjoy hearing from readers! Please contact me through my website, www.emilierose.com.

Happy reading!

Emilie Rose




About the Author


Bestselling Mills & Boon


Desire™ author and RITA


Award finalist EMILIE ROSE lives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. She is currently working her way through her own “bucket list,” which includes learning to ride a Harley. Visit her website at www.emilierose.com or e-mail EmilieRoseC@aol.com. Letters can be mailed to PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA.


The Ties That Bind



Emilie Rose












www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To the men and women of our military who sacrifice so much so that the rest of us can stay home with our families.




One


Anna Aronson aimed a measured breath at the plastic wand and wished the bubbles exiting the opposite side could magically carry her worries away on the breeze.

The boys playing at her feet in the thick emerald grass squealed and gurgled in the infectious way only toddlers can, making her smile despite impending disaster.

She had to get this job.

A flash of movement caught her attention. She glanced away from the boys scampering after the bubbles, and spotted the woman who’d interviewed her earlier coming toward them. Tension wound inside Anna like an Archimedean spiral.

“Mr. Hollister will see you now, Anna. He’s waiting in his office. Take the doors on the left side of the patio.” She gestured to the luxurious, sprawling Greenwich, Connecticut, home.

Anna licked her dry lips and lowered the wand. “The boys …”

“I’ll watch them while you talk to the boss. He has the final say. But for what it’s worth, you have my vote.” Mrs. Findley held out her hand for the bottle of bubbles and wand.

Anna, feeling as if she were surrendering a life preserver in rough seas, handed them over. This interview felt very much like a sink or swim situation. If she didn’t get this job she wouldn’t be able to pay this month’s rent or electric bill, and she’d be left with no option except to swallow her pride, go home and beg for help even though her mother had already made it clear that Anna and Cody would not be welcome in the retirement community where she resided.

But hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. “Thank you, Mrs. Findley.”

“Call me Sarah. And, Anna, don’t let Pierce intimidate you. He’s a fair employer and a good man despite the armor plated personality.”

Armor plated personality?

Trepidation closed Anna’s throat. She couldn’t have spoken even if an appropriate response had materialized in her seized up brain. Instead she nodded and headed for the house. The distance seemed endless, and by the time she reached the stone porch stairs of the two-story colonial her breaths came quickly—as if she’d run a mile instead of walking a few hundred yards.

Through the glass door Anna spotted her prospective employer sitting behind a massive wooden desk. The air jammed in her lungs. Please, please, please let this go well.

She knocked on the glass. He looked up from a stack of papers, scowling, then bid her to enter with one sharp snap of his head. Her hand slipped on the polished brass knob. She had to blot her damp palm on her dress before trying again and pushing open the door.

Pierce Hollister, with his supermodel chiseled features and thick, dark hair styled in one of those intentionally messy cuts, looked as if he belonged in a glossy magazine advertisement for an expensive product that any young millionaire might want to buy, and though he’d dressed casually in a black polo shirt opened at the base of his tanned neck, he still reeked of power and prestige.

But a handsome, charming, wealthy man had contributed to her current financial predicament. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down with this one.

“H-hello, Mr. Hollister. I’m Anna Aronson.”

Hazel eyes without a trace of friendliness inspected her from head to toe. She hoped her simple shirt dress and sandals passed muster.

“Why were you fired from your last position?”

Flustered by the terse question even before she’d closed the door, she bought time by focusing on the—ohmigod original—art on the walls around him and pushing the door until she heard the lock catch. So much for a polite handshake greeting.

“I was let go because I refused an after school playdate with the father of one of my students.”

“He propositioned you?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you file a complaint with the headmaster?”

“I did. But the parent in question is one of the school’s primary benefactors and his wife is their most successful fundraiser. My complaint was ignored.”

“How long did you work for the school?”

“The dates are in my resume.”

“I’m asking you.”

Why would he question her credentials unless he thought she’d made them up and wouldn’t recall them? “The academy hired me part-time straight out of college as a tutor for some of their struggling students. Six months later when a teacher quit unexpectedly they offered me a full-time teaching position. All totaled I worked for the school for three and a half years.”

“And despite your history as an employee the school fired you because of one parent’s allegations. They chose to take his word over yours.”

“The headmaster believed generous private school donors were harder to come by than elementary school teachers.”

“Or perhaps they were looking for an excuse to get rid of you because you weren’t good enough.”

The unjust allegation stole her breath. “I’ve received exemplary evaluations at every review and the salary increases to go with it.”

“And if I call the school to verify your story?”

Her hopes sank. He didn’t believe her. He wasn’t the first. And until someone did she’d never find a job that would pay enough to cover decent day care for Cody while she worked. Maybe if she could pick up more students to tutor and college papers to edit she could make ends meet …

Who are you trying to fool? That won’t be enough.

She fought the urge to fidget beneath his condemning stare. “If you call the school you will be told the parent in question said I picked on his son unmercifully after he—the father—refused my advances.”

“Did you make advances?”

She jerked in surprise. No one had asked that before. “Of course not. He’s married.”

“Married men have affairs.”

“Not with me they don’t.”

“Your resume states you graduated with honors from Vanderbilt. My assistant tells me that’s one of the best education programs in the country. How is it you can’t find a teaching position?”

This felt more like an interrogation than an interview. “Apparently, saying no to powerful, well-connected people has repercussions that carry far beyond the local job market.”

She suspected she’d been black-balled.

“You have no nanny experience.”

“No, sir, but I routinely handled twenty children at once, more when I worked the academy’s summer camp program, and I am a parent used to coping with bed, bath and meal times.”

He leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers and pinning her with his unblinking gaze. She looked back hoping—praying—he’d see the truth and willingness to work hard in her eyes. The silent scrutiny stretched interminably until she was as uncomfortable as she’d been that day in the headmaster’s office when she’d been unjustly accused.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t believe your story.”

His words settled like a weight on her shoulders. Frustrated because she couldn’t prove her innocence, Anna could only stare hopelessly into that uncompromising face as hope left her like a soda going flat. Until the headmaster, her integrity had never been questioned. She’d always been the smart one, the levelheaded and trustworthy one who always got the job done. And now nobody believed her.

If she ever wanted to teach again she’d have to find a way to clear her name. But until then she had to feed and house her son.

“I wanted a more mature woman to look after the boy,” Hollister continued. “And you come with a liability in the form of another baby.”

“Cody is seventeen months old, only six months older than your son. They should be good company for each other and provide a little social interaction,” she insisted but when Hollister’s expression turned even more formidable she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

“One noisy child in the house is bad enough. Two will be a disaster. I ought to show you the door. But Sarah swears you are the most qualified candidate, and I need a nanny today. You’re the only one available.”

Anna’s hopes started to rise then he stood and leaned forward on his fists, scaring her optimism right back into its hidey-hole. “But I will be watching you, Anna Aronson. One false move and no matter how desperate I am you and your carrot-top kid are out the door. Do I make myself clear?”

Her lungs emptied on a rush of relief and tears pricked the backs of her eyes, because even if he didn’t like or trust her, Hollister was giving her the job. “Yes, Mr. Hollister.”

“How long will it take you to pack and get back here?”

She quickly regrouped and calculated the travel time…and then the cost. Did she have enough cash in her wallet to cover cab fare to and from the station? Twice. Barely.

“It’s an hour’s train ride each way and I’ll need an hour to pack. We can be back in time for Graham’s dinner.”

“You don’t have a car?”

“No.” Not anymore. Public transportation wasn’t all that bad if you were careful about which times you traveled.

“I need you to assume your duties sooner. I’ll drive you.”

That meant being alone with him in her apartment. “But—”

“There is no but. Either you want the job or you don’t.”

“I do. But I, um…have a question.”

“What?” he snapped.

“Mrs. Findley wasn’t exactly clear on how long you’d need me. She said ‘until Graham’s mother returns from an overseas job,’ but she didn’t specify whether that involved weeks or months.”

“She didn’t provide the information because we don’t have it. This contract is open-ended. You’ll be paid monthly whether you work one day of the month or thirty, and you’ll be given an additional month’s severance pay when the job ends. If you have a problem with that then stop wasting my time.”

“No. No, sir. I—that will be fine.” Difficult to budget around, but better than nothing. And it explained why the salary offered was so ridiculously high.

“Then sign.” He shoved several pages and a pen toward her.

“May I read the contract first?”

“Read during the drive to your place.” He rose, came around the desk and loomed over her. She took an involuntary step back. He stood well over six feet and his shoulders stretched twice as broad as hers. A powerful man—not just financially. The same kind who had gotten her fired. “Let’s go. Sarah will watch your boy while we collect your belongings.”

Alarmed, Anna’s gaze shot to the window. She wasn’t really keen on leaving Cody with a stranger around so much water. Not only was the property riverfront, the large pool and bubbling hot tub would be an invitation to a little boy who loved to splash. But what choice did she have?

“Do you mind if I say goodbye to Cody and have a word with Mrs. Findley first?”

Her question seemed to irritate him. “Make it quick. I’ll get the car. Meet me out front. We’ll stop by the drug testing lab on the way to your place. I shouldn’t need to tell you that if the test comes back positive or if your references don’t check out you’ll be fired. No excuses. No severance pay.”

“Yessir. I understand. You have nothing to worry about. And thank you, Mr. Hollister, for giving me a chance.” She offered her hand. He ignored it. Feeling awkward, she let hers drop to her side.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Anna unlocked her door, mentally contrasting her simple home with the luxurious perfectly decorated estate belonging to the man shadowing her like a hovering bird of prey. Her entire apartment would fit into the living room where Mrs. Findley had conducted the preliminary interview and shared the particulars of the position.

Except for Anna providing directions from the drug testing lab to her apartment, the ride over had been a silent one—and not a comfortable silence either. She had the distinct impression her new boss disapproved of her. And the contract had been confusing. Why would she need to sign a nondisclosure agreement? What went on in the Hollister household that anyone would want to know?

Hollister followed her in, his sharp green and gold flecked eyes taking in her sparse furnishings—a secondhand sofa and table lamp, a red plastic clothes basket holding Cody’s toys and a tiny kitchen table with two chairs and a high chair. She didn’t have much, but then she and Cody didn’t need much. Besides, having less furniture gave Cody more floor space to play.

“Just moving in?” her new boss asked.

“I’ve been here close to four years.”

“Redecorating?”

“No.” Many of the students she tutored lived in showcase homes like his, and like him, those families probably had no clue how the less fortunate lived. On the upside, not having a job meant her place was cleaner than it had ever been.

“You’re going for the minimalist look?”

“My ex took most of our furniture when he left,” she admitted reluctantly. Along with their car, and her trust and her belief in love.

“When was that?”

Inquisitive, wasn’t he? But he had a right to be cautious. She’d be living in his house with access to his valuables. She didn’t need her minor in art to recognize that any of his original paintings and sculptures would be valued at more than she’d made in a year teaching at the academy.

Just as she had a right, given her recent experience, to be a little leery of being isolated with a strange, wealthy, influential man. She’d learned the hard way that wealth often led to arrogance, and arrogance to a sense of entitlement. And entitlement led to an inability to accept “no” gracefully.

She deliberately left the door to the hall slightly ajar. “Todd moved out while I was in the hospital giving birth to our son.”

“Is that relevant to my job?”

“Yes.”

Hollister’s eyes narrowed. Something in her tone must have alerted him to the betrayal that still stung when she thought of Todd’s rejection of not only of her but their child. It was one thing to get tired of her, but to ignore his own flesh and blood…She hated him for that.

“He didn’t tell you he was leaving?”

“No. He dropped me off at the emergency room and said he was going to park the car. He didn’t return. I was afraid that— I didn’t know he’d moved out until the taxi brought Cody and me home to an empty apartment.”

“I take it your husband didn’t appreciate you getting pregnant?”

She stiffened. “It takes two to make a baby. Cody was a surprise for both of us. Todd and I were newlyweds, and we’d intended to wait a few years before starting our family, but…things happen.”

“What does he think about you applying for a live-in position?”

“He doesn’t get a say. He’s not a part of our lives.”

“Still married?”

“Divorced. Please have a seat, Mr. Hollister. I’ll pack as quickly as I can.”

“Does he pay child support?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t even know where he is, and if he doesn’t want us I’d rather not have any ties.”

“There are no custody issues?”

“He relinquished his parental rights as part of the divorce settlement.” That he’d been all too happy to do so had killed any tender feelings she might have had for him. “You don’t have to worry about Todd showing up at your home and causing a problem. Excuse me.”

Anna raced from the room before he could ask more questions. She didn’t want to discuss her failed marriage or how badly she’d misjudged her ex-husband. If she wanted to have that conversation all she had to do was call her mother and listen to one of her I-told-you-so rants.

Anna packed Cody’s clothes and his favorite stuffed monkey in a duffel bag. Her life would have been much easier if she’d listened when her parents had deemed Todd a freeloader and forbidden her to see him, but at twenty she’d been flush with the freedom of college, overwhelmed by Todd’s attention and too naive to see anything but what he had wanted her to see—his mesmerizing charm, his amazing musical talent, and the big dreams he’d spun.

That love-struck blindness had peaked when Todd had convinced her to elope right after graduation. And even though her parents had packed her belongings, set them on their front porch and told her she’d have to live with the consequences of her impulsive behavior when Anna had shared the news of her marriage, she couldn’t regret her decision.

If she’d heeded her parents’ advice she wouldn’t have Cody, and her little angel was worth any pain or sacrifice she had to endure.

The most important thing her parents’ and Todd’s betrayals had taught her was that she was better off on her own—just her and Cody. She didn’t need a man, and Cody was all the family she needed.

She carried the duffel bag and the economy pack of diapers to the den and piled them in the toy basket. She hadn’t noticed any toys at Hollister’s. But then she hadn’t been shown the playroom. Perhaps her new boss insisted on keeping the clutter there.

Hollister indicated the loaded basket. “Is all this going?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take it to the car and come back for the rest.”

“But it’s four flights—”

“I remember.”

Of course he did. He’d climbed the stairs since the elevator was broken. Again. The building wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t all that good either. But it was clean and had been within walking distance of her old job. She knew her neighbors and felt safe here.

“I’ll be ready by the time you return.”

When he left the apartment tension instantly drained from her. She snatched the stack of bills off the breakfast bar and shoved them into her purse. She had a job that would enable her to pay her bills. For now. And with a good reference from Pierce Hollister maybe she could land another position soon after this one.

She quickly packed her clothing and toiletries into her old suitcase. She’d forgotten to ask how he expected her to dress. She hoped her wardrobe of casual dresses and skorts would suffice.

She headed for the den just as a knock sounded on the door. Elle peeked through the opening. “You got the job?”

“Yes, Elle, I did. I start today.”

The thirteen-year-old’s narrow shoulders drooped. “I guess you won’t need me to babysit then?”

The downside of accepting a live-in position meant Anna couldn’t pay her neighbor to babysit, and Elle’s family needed the money. “I’m sure I’ll need you when I get back. This is a temporary situation.”

“I’m going to miss you and Cody.” Elle’s lips quivered.

Anna pulled the fragile teen into her arms. “We’ll miss you, too.”

Anna’s new boss returned, stopping abruptly behind the girl and scowling as he took in the scene. “Ready?”

Anna released Elle. “Almost. Elle, this is Mr. Hollister. I’ll be taking care of his little boy, Graham.”

Hollister’s mouth opened then snapped closed as if he were going to speak then changed his mind.

The teen blinked back her tears and sniffed. “N-nice to meet you, sir.”

Anna smoothed a hand over Elle’s baby-fine hair. “Elle lives next door. Honey, why don’t you check my fridge for perishables? Take them to your place. No need to let them spoil here. Oh, and there are a couple of open boxes of cereal and a jar of peanut butter in the cabinet. Grab those and the bread on the counter, too.”

Elle shuffled off. Hollister hiked an eyebrow. “You feed the neighbors?”

How did he manage to make that sound like an insult? “She watches Cody for me when I’m tutoring students. With us gone she won’t make any money.”

“I’m sure she can afford a few missed trips to the mall.”

“It’s the missed trips to the grocery store I’m worried about,” she replied as quietly as possible.

His apparently perpetual frown deepened. When Elle returned with two bags loaded with food he scrutinized her in that same uncomfortable way he had Anna until Elle squirmed and shot a worried glance at Anna.

“You sure you want me to take all this, Miss Anna?”

“Absolutely, Elle. It’ll spoil here. And you know I hate waste.”

“Do you have a cell phone?” Hollister asked Anna.

“No.” Another casualty of her finances.

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and extracted a business card then a couple of bills. He folded them in quarters and covered them with his card before Anna could make out the denomination. Then he wrote on the back of the white rectangle. “Keep an eye on Ms. Aronson’s place while she’s gone. You can reach her at this number if any problems arise.”

Elle goggled at the money then him then Anna. Anna had to bite her lip to hide her surprise. She nodded, encouraging Elle to take whatever he’d given her. “I’d appreciate it, Elle. I’ll try to keep you updated on when Cody and I’ll return. Oh. Wait.”

She rushed from the room and brought back her windowsill herb garden. “You might as well take this too. The plants will die without water, and you and your sister can experiment with the different flavors when you cook. Be sure to write down any good recipes you concoct for me.”

“Sure. That’ll be fun.”

Hollister nodded toward Cody’s high chair. “You’d better bring that.”

He followed Elle out of the apartment carrying Anna’s remaining luggage. She folded up the lightweight high chair, locked up and trailed him down the stairs.

She stopped beside him on the sidewalk. “That was nice of you. Giving Elle the money and contact information, I mean.”

“It was nothing.” He closed the trunk on her stuff and stowed the baby chair in the backseat.

“Her father’s disabled and—”

“I don’t care, nor do I need to know her circumstances.”

His cold tone cut like a new scalpel, revealing the armor-plated personality his assistant had mentioned. “Yessir.”

For a moment he’d seemed human, compassionate even. But she must have misread him.

She hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

Pierce didn’t buy Anna’s goody-two-shoes act.

He’d taken her home rather than put her on the train not out of generosity, but because he’d wanted her taking over the care of Kat’s kid immediately. And he’d wanted insight into the woman who had hoodwinked his usually astute executive assistant.

Sarah had been with him since his father’s sudden death had forced Pierce to take the reins of the company seven years ago, and she’d been his father’s executive assistant for twenty years before that. No one knew the company like she did, and in all the time they’d worked together he’d never once doubted her intelligence as he did today.

But she was too valuable an employee to lose—especially now at crunch time with thousands of scholarship applications still left to go through and his aggressive agenda for Hollister Ltd. He had a distinct impression she’d have quit if he hadn’t hired Aronson.

He glanced at the freckled female with the long auburn hair and even longer legs sitting in his passenger seat. Pretty, but not so much so that she’d drive men wild with lust, and her conservative clothing wasn’t going to lead a man to believe she was looking for a lover. Her story didn’t add up. And then there was the way she’d studied his artwork as if she knew the value of each piece. The collection was insured. But he’d have to watch her.

Her almost empty apartment and her soap opera sob story about her ex-husband combined with the pile of bills on the counter indicated a woman in dire straights. A woman desperate enough to do things to make a few bucks.

Like proposition a wealthy parent.

Or fence stolen paintings.

He’d been convinced he’d made a mistake in hiring her, then she’d helped the girl, doing so in a manner that made giving handouts look as if the teen was doing Anna a favor by taking them.

Pierce had been surprised when the girl had opened Anna’s refrigerator and cabinets because those too had been nearly empty. He hadn’t seen a pantry or refrigerator that bare since his stint in foster care.

It was only after Anna’s comment about missed groceries that he’d noticed the girl wasn’t fashionably thin. She was emaciated. And Anna had given her what little food she had. Sure, Aronson would be eating on his dime in the foreseeable future, but she’d handled the delicate situation with a sensitivity that he couldn’t help but respect.

He kept his eyes on the road and the traffic, but his brain waves remained tuned in to the pale and silent woman sitting in the seat beside him.

Sarah might believe that having a woman with Anna’s qualifications fall into his lap when he was desperate was a godsend, but if life had taught him anything, it was that when something looked too good to be true, ninety-nine percent of the time it was.

He’d definitely have to keep his eye on Anna Aronson.




Two


Anna’s nerves were getting the better of her. Her boss’s frowning silence in the driver’s seat didn’t help.

Without the contract to read or the need to give directions during the car ride back to the estate she had time to think, time to worry about whether moving into a stranger’s house—a stranger who thought she was a liar—was the right thing to do for Cody and herself. It made them vulnerable. Much more vulnerable than she’d been in her remote classroom at the far end of the hall at the academy where no one had heard Dan’s illicit invitation or his threat to make her regret saying no.

But what choice did she have? It was mid-September and schools had already filled their teacher positions. This had been the only job available for which she was even slightly qualified.

She swallowed, trying and failing to ease the dryness in her mouth. “Does Mrs. Findley—Sarah—live with you?”

“She has stayed at the house for this past week, but tonight she’ll go back to her cottage.”

“And the housekeeper?”

“Comes in three times a week.”

That meant Anna and her boss would be alone—except for the boys—in a house surrounded by luxuriant lawns, dense trees and a six-foot-high stone fence with an electronically controlled iron gate.

Don’t be a worrywart. Not every good-looking rich guy is a pervert who wants to play with the help.

Her pep talk did little to ease her disquiet. Something about Pierce Hollister disturbed her. Not in a skulking around in dark corners creepy kind of way, but…well, she didn’t really know how or why he agitated her. He just did in an adrenaline-pumping, palms-moistening kind of way.

“Graham favors you,” she blurted in an effort to redirect her thoughts.

Hollister shot her an appalled glance which she thought a little odd. “He’s not even a year old. You can’t tell that.”

“Sure you can. He has your nose, chin and hair, and his eyes are shaped like yours even though they’re blue instead of hazel. Haven’t you noticed the similarities?”

“You’re imagining things.”

“If you compared your baby pictures to his you’d see what I mean.”

Hollister’s scowl deepened. “I don’t have any baby pictures.”

“Your mother probably does.”

“My mother is dead.”

She winced. Way to put your foot in your mouth, Anna. “I’m sorry. Your father then?”

“I was adopted. There are no pictures.”

Even adoptive families took photos. But his hadn’t? Another strange fact to file away. An awkward silence filled the car. “How old were you when you joined your new family?”

“Eight. And the boy does not look like me.”

The boy? Her eyebrows hiked at his phrasing and testy tone. “Sarah said Graham is eleven months old. He’s big for his age and really gets around well. When did he start walking?”

“I don’t know.”

How could he forget such a milestone? Or maybe he was being rude because he didn’t want to talk to her. She lapsed into silence, but that lasted less than five minutes before the uneasiness made her ask, “When is his birthday?”

“Next month.”

“Well, yes, I gathered that. If you want to have a party, I could help plan something.”

“That’s his mother’s job.”

“But…I thought that Graham’s mother might not be back by then.” She couldn’t imagine missing one of Cody’s birthdays.

“I am doing everything in my power to make sure she is.”

How sweet of him—even if it did mean Anna’s job ending sooner. “Well, anyway, if she can’t make it, I’ll help. Turning one is a pretty big deal. You could videotape it so she wouldn’t feel as if she were missing out.”

“There will be no party,” he snapped in a voice so low and adamant that it sounded more like an animal’s threatening growl than human speech.

The Hollister family’s dynamics were strange to say the least. The best she could do was figure out the parameters of her role, and to do that she’d need more than the scanty details Sarah Findley had provided.

“Which parts of the day would you like to spend with Graham?”

“None of them.”

Anna blinked in surprise. “You won’t be joining him for lunch or dinner or anything?”

“I need to work. Having him here has put me behind schedule.”

Need to work. Behind schedule. The words could have been straight from the chorus to the song of Anna’s life. She, her sister and her mother had eaten most of their meals alone even when her father had been in the house because he’d stayed locked in the library working. She couldn’t imagine having a child and not wanting to be a part of that child’s development.

She made a conscious effort to relax her jaw muscles. Clenching her teeth guaranteed she’d give herself a tension headache. “I see.”

He frowned harder at the disapproval she hadn’t quite managed to keep out of her voice. “Apparently Sarah didn’t explain the situation to you in a way you can understand. Graham is your responsibility until this job ends. The housekeeper will give you short breaks if absolutely necessary. I expect this to be a short-term position. You are being generously compensated for the overtime. I am on a tight deadline and don’t need interruptions.”

The hair on her nape prickled. His speech sounded awfully familiar, and for a moment she could have sworn her father had risen from the grave. “You’re saying you don’t want to spend any time with your son?”

He flinched. “No. Is there a reason for your inquisition, Ms. Aronson?” He bristled a “back off” warning.

“I’m trying to get a feel for Graham’s emotional state.”

“He’s a baby. All he cares about are food, sleep and a clean diaper. I hired you to be his nanny, not his shrink.”

“Being one pretty much requires being the other. Since babies can’t verbalize their needs—”

“Just keep the damned kids quiet and out of my way. That’s what you’re being paid to do. In fact, I’d rather not even know the three of you are in my house.”

Taken aback, she stared at him. She’d known the job sounded too good to be true. It looked as if she’d discovered the catch.

“Yessir.” For a moment she felt sorry for herself for finding a job that was going to evoke so many bad memories. But most of her sympathy pains were reserved for a little boy who would never understand why his daddy didn’t want to spend time with him.

Been there. Done that. And the pain…well, it wasn’t something you ever forgot.

Hollister steered his car into his driveway and her questions dried up. The tall iron gates crept open and he passed between the pillars. In the side mirror she watched heavy metal close, sealing off her escape route. Her heart raced faster and her palms dampened.

You’re being stupid, Anna. If you’d really thought he was a pervert you never would have taken the job.

But for a woman who loved horror stories and movies about things that went bump in the night the situation had all the makings of a gothic novel. Reclusive millionaire. Secluded mansion. Walled property. Cloudy coastline.

Hollister drove around the cobblestone circular drive and stopped in front of the sprawling gray stone house with white trim. Anna hadn’t noticed before, but the house’s cool colors and lack of flowers made it unwelcoming. Like its owner. Not that the landscaping wasn’t lush and impressive, but it was monochromatic. Green. Like money.

The front door opened and Sarah Findley stepped out, looking a bit harried. She held Cody’s hand and carried a red-faced Graham. As soon as Anna stepped from the car her son pulled free and rushed toward her. His little arms lifted and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Up, Mama. Up.”

Anna scooped him up and rose, hugging him close. He smelled of sweaty little boy and sunshine.

Hollister’s assistant bypassed her boss and handed Graham straight to Anna, leaving Anna to juggle two warm, wiggly bodies.

“I ordered a second crib and had it installed in the guest suite while you were out, Anna. I also ordered dinner for all of you. It’s waiting in the kitchen. I’m off. There’s a bubble bath waiting for me.” She extended her hand toward her boss. He dropped the keys into her palm.

It seemed a little unusual given Hollister’s obvious wealth that he and his assistant were sharing a car. But then so many things were not making sense.

“Mind if we unload before you race off?” A trace of humor warmed Hollister’s voice and a crooked smile lifted one corner of his mouth—the first smile Anna had seen from him. Her breath caught. He was quite attractive when he wasn’t being a sourpuss and his eyes were actually warm instead of coal hard. But that his affection was aimed toward his assistant instead of his son bothered her. He hadn’t even looked at Graham once since their arrival.

Sarah smiled. “I’ll even wait until you’ve put my bags in the trunk.”

That’s when Anna noticed the suitcases by the base of one of the large porch columns. The assistant’s eagerness to leave only increased Anna’s anxiety level. What was wrong with this picture?

Sarah turned toward Anna. “I didn’t show you your rooms earlier. Why don’t you go ahead and check them out. Top of the stairs. Turn left. The nursery and your suite are over the garage.”

Anna glanced questioningly at her new boss. He nodded. “I’ll bring up your stuff.”

“I…Okay, thanks.” She took the boys inside. Graham laid his head on her shoulder and popped his thumb in his mouth. Poor tired puppy. She had no clue of his schedule, but she suspected his naptime wasn’t far off.

She set Cody down in the foyer. “Let’s go upstairs, baby.”

He scampered on all fours up the steps ahead of her. Anna paused on the landing, noting there were no baby gates at the top or the bottom of the stairs. That was a safety hazard that had to be remedied.

Following Sarah’s instructions, Anna turned left and located the first room above the four-car garage. The bedroom was beautifully decorated in soothing blues and greens. An original John Singer Sargent seascape hung above the bed’s headboard. She wanted to linger over the artwork, but instead focused on the fact that the only sign this was a nursery were the two cribs pushed against the walls and a baby monitor on the dresser. There were no toys and the only other paraphernalia usually associated with babies was a bag of disposable diapers and a box of wipes on the dresser.

She laid the now-sleeping Graham in a crib, checked to make sure his diaper was clean then covered him with a light sheet. Her mind reeled with questions. Why was Graham sleeping in what was clearly a guest room? Why hadn’t the house been childproofed? None of the outlets were covered. Who had taken care of the child prior to Anna’s hiring? Why was Pierce so cool to his son?

Cody darted through an open door into an attached bathroom. “Bap,” he squealed in high-pitched excitement. “Biiiiiig bap.”

Anna followed. Cody’s eyes were nearly as large as the garden tub which would allow her to bathe both boys simultaneously. “We’ll have a bath later. Let’s go find mommy’s room, Cody.”

She herded him down a short hall and through a small sitting area with a television and a gas log fireplace before locating the second bedroom. It had another queen bed, a Frederick Church original above the headboard, and the other half of the baby monitor on the bedside table. She found an additional luxurious bathroom and a walk-in closet bigger than her apartment bedroom through a connecting door.

Again, the space was beautifully decorated, but as sterile as a hotel room—albeit with better art. She heard a car drive away and from the large window overlooking the front yard spotted the Lexus exiting through the gate. Her mouth dried. If her new boss was a womanizing jerk she’d soon find out.

A sound from behind made her jump. Speak of the devil. Hollister deposited her suitcase inside the door and dropped the basket of Cody’s things on her bed. His thundercloud expression had returned. “Where’s the boy?”

“The boy” again. That really disturbed her. “Graham was sound asleep. I put him in his crib.”

“Check on him regularly.”

“I will.”

Hollister suddenly seemed bigger, broader, and stronger now that he was blocking her path and they were alone in the house save the boys. He seemed to shrink the space, narrowing it down to the two of them—so much so that she could almost forget her inquisitive son.

“Is that the room Graham usually occupies when he visits?”

“He doesn’t visit.”

Surprised, she blinked. “Ever?”

“No.”

“You see him at his mother’s?”

“Ms. Aronson, my personal life is none of your business,” he all but snapped. “I’ll leave you to get settled. Feed yourself and the boys whenever you want.”

She had a dozen more questions, the most urgent being where his bedroom was located, but he was already testy, and she was afraid he’d misconstrue her question as interest. “Could we get baby gates for the top and bottom of the stairs?”

“Tell Sarah in the morning. She’ll deal with it. Good night.”

He pivoted abruptly and left.

Anna wasn’t disappointed, but she did feel strangely adrift in this unfamiliar place with no friends or allies.

She said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t need either.

The trio already occupying his kitchen brought Pierce to a dead halt in the doorway. Obviously his eight-thousand-square-foot house wasn’t big enough for him to avoid his unwanted guests.

Anna glanced up from the banana she was slicing. The last banana. The one he’d planned to eat with his breakfast.

“Good morning, Mr. Hollister.”

It had been a good morning. Until now. He’d had a long, head-clearing run then a shower. All he needed before he settled in for his first full day’s work since the kid’s arrival was food, but the slimy, messy faces of the boys in their high chairs killed his appetite. “You’re up early.”

“Your son is an early riser.”

“Kat’s son.”

Anna tilted her head, questions filling her eyes. Her reddish-brown hair slid across her shoulders. It was only then that he noticed the strands were slightly disheveled—as if she’d crawled from bed in a hurry and hadn’t had time to brush them. That led him to detecting her flushed cheeks and sleepy eyes—half-closed pale blue eyes currently narrowed on him.

“Kat is his mother?”

“Yes.”

“I fixed the boys breakfast. I hope you don’t mind that we didn’t wait for you.” She divided the small pieces of fruit between the messy trays, noisily kissed the top of each boy’s head, making them laugh, then crossed to the sink to wash her hands.

Her mid-thigh-length khaki skirt and sleeveless top displayed her slender figure and long, pale limbs in a Catholic schoolgirl kind of way. He found her I’ve-just-been-woken appearance and the faint scent of honeysuckles she left in her wake disturbingly appealing. Warning bells rang in his conscience.

“Help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

“About that …” She faced him, pinching her plump bottom lip between straight, white teeth as she dried her hands. “I took inventory of your refrigerator and pantry. There’s really not a lot here.”

“The cabinets are well-stocked.”

“I meant for the boys. Smoked salmon, spicy gourmet sandwich meats, salad and Portobello mushrooms may work for you, but not for them. Toddlers need easier to digest foods. What does Graham like to eat?”

He caught himself watching her pink mouth move and jerked his gaze to hers. “I don’t know.”

“Does he have any food allergies?”

Irritation replaced unwelcome interest. “I don’t know that either. The housekeeper takes care of the shopping. Make a list and give it to her when she comes in later today.”

Anna’s puzzled expression returned, creasing her freckled brow. “I’ll do that. If you’re going to join us each morning—and I’m sure Graham would love that—I can prepare enough breakfast for you, too.”

Eat with the dirty duo? No thanks. Each child had food smeared on every reachable surface. Even their hair bore traces of whatever gooey substance she’d fed them. The need to escape surged through him, but his growling stomach insisted he tough out this encounter long enough to feed himself.

“I’ll fix my own breakfast. Today and every day.” And the sooner he did so the sooner he could leave this unappetizing sight behind.

He yanked open the refrigerator and gathered the makings of a sandwich which he hastily slapped together—trying all the while to block out the annoyingly cheerful voice of the woman behind him yakking to the boys.

“Where do you keep Graham’s toys?”

Anna’s question made him pause mid-chipotle-mayo swipe. “Ask Sarah. She may have bought a few last week.”

Silence broken only by the boys’ babbling and banging on their trays filled the room.

“Graham is here…legally? Isn’t he?” Fear tinged her voice.

Pierce rested his fists on the counter. The last thing he needed was a hysterical woman calling the authorities. Not that he had anything to hide but officials poking around would only slow him down.

Still, Anna believing he’d kidnapped the kid when he’d had to force Kat to list his name on the child’s birth certificate just in case of emergencies like this one struck him as ironic. Not that he’d ever expected to be called into duty. Kat had assured him she had foolproof child care set up. She’d been wrong. But no child carrying his blood would end up in the system.

“I am the boy’s legal guardian until his mother returns. Sarah has the documentation if you must see it.”

“What happened to his previous sitter?”

“She dumped the kid on child services when his mother was…detained.”

He’d deliberately neglected to reveal Kat’s identity to keep those who might be more interested in Kat’s fame than her son’s welfare from applying for the job. There had been too many stories in the news lately of employees selling their celebrity employer’s secrets to make a quick buck. His and Kat’s relationship—however strained it might be—was private. News of it leaking wouldn’t help his company’s image, which in turn might undermine his goals for Hollister Ltd.

Concern puckered Anna’s brow. “Poor Graham. Could we swing by his mom’s place and pick up a few things?”

“Kat lives in Atlanta.”

“Oh. Too far then. Would you mind if we borrowed some things from the kitchen?”

His irritation reached boiling point. Pierce slapped the top on his sandwich. “I don’t care how you entertain the kid. Just do it. And leave me out of it.”

Her face blanched, making her freckles stand out. He experienced a sudden craving for cinnamon toast—the way his mother used to make it twenty-something years ago. He used to lick the granules off—

He shook his head to banish the thought. But damned if the nanny’s freckles didn’t look like cinnamon sprinkled on bread.

“Yessir.”

Feeling as if he’d kicked a kitten, he grabbed his plate and a bottle of water and retreated to his office. He’d hired her to deal with the trivial child-care issues. He didn’t need her or her sleepy, sexy—no, not sexy—morning eyes condemning him. The kid would be better off if Pierce kept his distance.

He turned on the television to drown out the noise coming from the kitchen and tried to concentrate on CNN while he ate. He had a team of people feeding him regular updates on Kat’s situation, but occasionally he heard news on TV before he received a report.

His turkey pastrami and imported Swiss cheese sandwich tasted like cardboard. An identical sandwich yesterday had been delicious. He’d better check the expiration dates on the meat and cheese.

More likely it was the nanny—and her incessant questions—killing his appetite. He pushed his half-eaten meal to the side of his desk, exhaled then cracked his knuckles, determined to have a productive, interruption-free day.

The sooner he chose the scholarship recipient the sooner he could get back to his real goal of doubling Hollister Ltd.’s net worth before the company’s fiftieth anniversary next year. And to do that he needed single-minded dedication and no distractions.

But first the scholarship. He reached into the mail crate filled with unread applications, grabbed one and swiveled his chair to face the three mesh bins on his sideboard. The rejected applications stack towered over the short “maybe” stack. The “yes” bin remained empty. It should only take a few moments to decide into which category the one in his hand would go.

Every year more people needed a hand up. He couldn’t afford to help them all, so he searched for the one with the most potential and ambition. The one who’d fought hardest against the greatest odds to achieve the most.

He’d only read the applicant’s name when Sarah breezed into the room. “Ahh. My first full night’s sleep in a week. I feel human again and well enough to tackle composing the rejection letters. I felt guilty for not staying last night to help with the transition, but with my ulcer acting up, I needed the peace and quiet.”

“Not a problem.”

She dropped her purse on her smaller desk. “How did Anna and the boys make out last night?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask her over breakfast?” she inquired as she grabbed a six-inch stack of applications from the rejection bin.

He nodded toward the sandwich. “I’m eating at my desk.”

Sarah’s red lips curved downward. “I have never spoken ill of your father before, but—”

“Don’t start now.”

“But,” she continued in a way no other employee would dare, “children are not meant to be dragged out only when it’s convenient.”

“Spoken from your vast experience.”

She winced and her expression turned somber. Pierce experienced a swift stab of regret. He was on a roll of hurting feelings this morning. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”

“But accurate. My husband and I weren’t able to have children—a fact that I regret more each day and one that makes me appreciate other people’s offspring—in small doses—all the more now that I’m pushing fifty and my friends are enjoying their grandchildren. Graham needs you, Pierce.”

She’d passed fifty a while back, but he let her fib go uncorrected. “He has his mother and a nanny you handpicked.”

“Don’t repeat your father’s mistakes. Spend time with your son. If you let him Graham will enrich your life in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“He’s Kat’s son.”

“Yours and Katherine’s. It doesn’t matter that Katherine got pregnant behind your back. Graham is still your flesh and blood—as this current custody situation and the exorbitant child support you pay every month attests.”

“I’ll spend time with him when he’s old enough to intern at the company. Like Hank did with me.”

Sarah shook her head. “I became Hank’s executive assistant while he was still operating Hollister on a shoestring budget. When he began the paperwork to adopt you I had hoped a child would soften his hard edges, but he never changed his ways even after he brought you home.

“He worked just as late and he never took vacations. I tried to tell him children—especially an eight-year-old boy who’d recently lost his family—needed love and attention. And what did that damned fool do? He married a woman thirty years younger even though he was never going to love anyone other than that fickle hussy who’d dumped him and married his brother while Hank was deployed.”

Pierce frowned at the reminder. The year he’d turned thirteen he’d come home from school for the summer and been presented with a new “mommy.” He’d hoped that they’d be a real family and that he could live at home and attend a local school like a regular kid, but that hadn’t been the case. The woman, he couldn’t recall her name, hadn’t been interested in anything other than shopping and spending Hank’s money, and come fall Pierce had been sent back to boarding school. His new “mother” had been gone by the time he returned for Christmas break.

“At least the prenup kept her from robbing him blind.”

“You’re deliberately missing my point. More than once I asked Hank, ‘Why have a child if you’re not going to spend time with it?’”

“He needed an heir to keep his lazy, girlfriend-stealing brother from inheriting the company.” Pierce could practically hear Hank’s raspy voice snarling the words.

“That is not a good reason to bring a child into your home.” Sarah shook her head and settled in her chair, piling the papers in front of her.

“Hank needed someone to take a welder’s torch to his frozen heart. And you’re going to turn into a cantankerous old grouch just like him if you don’t let someone past that armor of yours. I understand your distrust of Katherine. She deliberately deceived you. But, Pierce, that’s not Graham’s fault. And handing out money isn’t going to fill your heart the way giving and receiving love does. No matter how many scholarships you award, you can’t bring your brother back.”

Damn, she had a way of going straight for the jugular. But Sarah didn’t know about the baby in Pierce’s foster care home—the one who had died. And Pierce had been the last one to see it alive. He pushed the memory away.

“I might be able to prevent another kid from the system from facing the same fate as Sean. That’s why we’re here sorting through over a thousand applications—with a looming deadline before the announcement and banquet.”

“Sean made bad choices after your parents died because he lost the emotional connection to someone who cared enough to guide him. Make sure you don’t put your son in the same position.”

It was his turn to recoil. Sarah asked too much. Letting Graham—or anyone—into his life meant making himself vulnerable. Everyone he’d loved had died. His parents. His brother. Hank.

Kat would return, and when she did she’d take Graham back to Atlanta. Eventually she’d find someone else willing to give her the ring she craved, and then even if Pierce wanted time with the boy he would play hell trying to get visitation. He’d seen custody battles happen time and time again with friends and employees.

Keeping his emotional distance would be easier in the long run. When he had something to offer Kat’s son—like a job at Hollister Ltd., he’d teach Graham the business if the kid was interested. But until then, he wasn’t investing himself in a temporary guest.




Three


Four days on the job—two of which Anna hadn’t seen any sign of her boss.

The good news: he wasn’t trying to take advantage of her and hadn’t made even one untoward move. The bad news: he was completely ignoring his son.

Her anger on behalf of the adorable little boy reactivated her dormant resentment toward her son’s father and her own. Were all men self-absorbed idiots who procreated without thought of the life they were bringing into the world? Did they never consider the emotional needs of a child before unzipping their pants?

To give Hollister credit, he hadn’t spoiled his son with material possessions to make up for his neglect the way her father had. Sure, every request Anna had made had been met almost instantaneously, like her grocery list and the installation of the stair gates and the pool and hot tub alarms. But it wouldn’t kill Hollister to drop by the nursery and share a few minutes of his precious time with his son. The best gifts—like love and attention—were free.

She checked the boys again. Cody’s pink cheeks confirmed he’d finally succumbed to the nap he’d been fighting. She debated her options. Sitting in the nursery and updating her resume as she’d done during the boys’ previous naps didn’t appeal. The sun was shining and the temperature was warm but not too humid. She’d love to sit on the patio with a book. But in the rush she hadn’t packed any of the books she’d picked up at the swap shop.

Perhaps her boss had something she could read? There was only one way to find out. Dread slithered under her skin. She knew he’d be alone since she’d heard Sarah drive out ten minutes ago, and while Anna wasn’t keen on facing the lion in his den, she’d rather do that than stare at the ceiling for two hours. She clipped the baby monitor to her waistband and descended the stairs, heading toward Hollister’s office. She knocked on the closed door.

“In,” his deep voice rumbled through the wood.

She turned the knob and pushed. Hollister sat behind his desk, a pile of papers in front of him. His white polo shirt accentuated his tanned face, broad shoulders and chest muscles. His frown intimidated her, but she’d come this far, she might as well follow through despite her fluttery pulse and a strong urge to run.

“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have any books I could borrow? The boys are napping and I—”

“Make it quick.” He pointed at a shelf behind the smaller desk on the opposite side of the room.

“Thanks.” She entered the study and his crisp, clean scent filled her nose. She could feel him watching her as she perused the titles—not in a sinister way, but in a way that made her cells tingle.

Most of the books were business related. She was about to abandon her search when she spotted a hardback thriller by one of her favorite authors. She grabbed it, eager to get started, but paused. “Have you read this yet?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She started pushing it back into its slot.

“Take it.”

“Are you sure?”

He jerked a sharp nod. “I don’t have time to read it.”

“Okay. Thanks.” In a hurry to make her escape, she debated fleeing, but she had a point to make if she could find the courage to voice it.

“I’m enjoying taking care of Graham. He’s a sweet little boy and so cuddly. You and his mother must be very proud—”

“Chatting me up is the wrong way to convince me you didn’t make overtures to that father at your last job.”

Indignation snapped her spine stiff. “I was merely trying to suggest you spare a few moments for your son.”

“He is not my son in any way other than biologically.”

The odd answer rattled her. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to, Ms. Aronson, and if you value your job you will get out of my office. Now.”

When he put it that way…“Yessir.”

She turned, in a hurry to get away from the grouch. Her elbow caught on a bin of paperwork on the smaller desk. The basket tipped over, scattering sheets over the desktop and the floor. Some even floated under the furniture.

She winced. Way to go, Anna.

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean them up.” She dropped to her knees and started collecting the pages. Some were neatly typed and paper-clipped in bundles. Others were handwritten on notebook paper and barely legible, their folded top corners all that held them together. But it was the top line on each cover sheet that caught her attention.

The Sean Rivers Memorial Scholarship.

Then she spotted loafers planted in front of her. Loafers attached to long denim-clad legs, a leather belt and a white shirt. Her heart climbed to her throat. Hollister surprised her by squatting and helping rake up the remaining mess. Their fingers collided, and the heat of his touch jolted through her. She snatched her hand back.

What was that? It couldn’t be attraction. No way. Not to a workaholic.

Alarm? Yes, that’s all it was. A good ol’ case of uneasiness. She didn’t want to be accused of inviting illicit invitations again.

Her gaze shot to his. Only a narrow span of inches separated them. “You’d think after fifteen years of ballet lessons I’d have a little more grace.”

He all but ripped the forms from her hands and stood to tower over her. “Fifteen years and you didn’t pursue it?”

“No amount of enthusiasm or determination can overcome a total lack of rhythm. My dance instructor repeatedly encouraged me to find another hobby, but I had my reasons for sticking with it.”

He didn’t even crack a smile at her self-deprecating tale. She stretched to reach a page far under the desk. Curiosity got the better of her as she rose beside him. “Who is Sean Rivers?”

His perpetual scowl deepened. “My brother.”

“It says ‘Memorial Scholarship.’ Does that mean he’s—”

“Dead. Yes.” Clipped words, devoid of emotion.

Empathy welled inside her. “I’m sorry for your loss. As much as my sister irritates me sometimes I’d hate to lose her. And…all this?” She indicated the stacks.

“Not that it’s any of your business but Hollister Ltd. provides a college scholarship to a deserving student from the foster care system each year.”

The foster care system. And he’d been adopted. Had he and his brother spent time in the system?

She scanned the wire baskets and the stacks within reach of his desk. “You personally select the recipient?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what you’ve been working on?”

His jaw line went rigid. “Among other things. I do have a company to run. Don’t the boys need your attention, Ms. Aronson?”

“They’re napping. And I’ll hear them when they wake.” She indicated the monitor. “But I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for loaning me the book. And please stop by the nursery if you get a chance. Graham would love to spend time with his daddy.”

He flinched then his expression turned thundercloud dark. She fled.

But now she knew her boss had at least one redeeming characteristic beneath his armor plating. He was generous to others.

Just not his own son. And that was unforgivable.

“If you’re happy and you know it beat your drum,” Anna sang to the boys.

Cody and Graham each pounded out his own tempo with a wooden spoon on the copper bottom of a pot borrowed from Hollister’s well-equipped kitchen.

The door to the room designated as the nursery burst open, revealing her boss. “What in the hell are you doing?”

The boys fell silent. Graham’s bottom lip quivered. He scuttled into Anna’s lap and hid his face in her breasts. She wrapped her arms around him. Was he afraid of his father?

“Having music time. Are we disturbing you?”

“Yes.” A muscle in Hollister’s rock-hard jaw twitched and the veins on his forehead protruded.

“Odie pay,” her son warbled, making Anna smile despite the ogre in the room.

“Yes, Cody is playing his drum,” she enunciated slowly in an effort to help his budding language development.

Cody banged his pot, drawing Graham out of hiding. Hollister’s son clapped his hands and both boys chortled infectiously. The two of them together were so adorable. For a moment Anna thought she saw her boss’s expression soften with something like…yearning?

Her son uncharacteristically offered his spoon to Hollister. “Man pay.”

Hollister stared, blank-faced.

“Cody is asking if you would like to take a turn with his drum.”

The lines bracketing her boss’s mouth deepened. “No. Keep it quiet. I’m trying to work.”

Another echo from her past. She’d tried so many times as a child to engage her father. “We’ll try.”

“Don’t try. Do it.” He pivoted with a military snap of muscles and left the room, dragging the air from Anna’s lungs with him. She stared at the empty open door, listening to the retreat of his angry footsteps.

“If you’re grumpy and you know it pat your drum,” she mumbled under her breath. “Okay, boys, bath time.”

Surely Hollister couldn’t complain about the boys splashing too loudly. Cody squealed with excitement—an ear-piercing sound that might bring her boss stomping back, then Graham joined in. Anna cringed, but when Hollister didn’t barrel back into the room she herded the imps toward the bathroom.

She knelt by the garden tub, stripped the boys down and had them happily paddling in the shallow water within minutes. Keeping an eye on two slippery bathers required unblinking vigilance, but their joy in the experience made it worth her while.

She shampooed Graham’s dark hair then Cody’s red locks, laughing at their comical expressions. She’d always expected to have children, and definitely more than one. But not before Todd had found a job and they’d built up a nest egg. But life had other plans.

She didn’t regret rejecting Todd’s knee-jerk suggestion to terminate her pregnancy. She’d thought she’d convinced him they could make their little family work, that if they budgeted carefully, her salary was enough to support the three of them until he sold some of his songs. She’d believed he’d accepted her decision to have Cody.

But time and his disappearance had proven her wrong and her parents right. They’d told her repeatedly that Todd was irresponsible and mooching off her, but she’d been convinced they were only pressuring her to find a man just like her father—the way her sister had—and she’d ignored their warnings.

Using the handheld showerhead Anna rinsed the last of the soap from Cody then Graham. She dried Graham first, set him on the bath mat and handed him one of Cody’s rubber bath boats to keep him occupied. “Wait for me to dry Cody, sweetie.”

She turned back to her son. Cody splashed and managed to get soap in his eyes. He wailed. Anna rinsed him again. She heard Graham cackle with laughter but the sound had come from outside the bathroom. She whirled around in time to see him bolt through the bedroom door. Her heart kicked wildly. She hoped Hollister had remembered to latch the stair gate.

Snatching up Cody without even bothering with a towel, she raced after her charge. Graham’s naked little legs pumped furiously. “Graham. Stop. Graham!”

The little fugitive chugged past the gate—which was closed, thank heaven, down a hall and around a corner to a wing of the house Anna hadn’t explored yet. She struggled to hold on to Cody’s slippery wet body. Graham disappeared through a set of double open doors. Anna barreled through it right behind him.

Hollister, shirtless, stared aghast at his son then lifted his disapproving gaze to Anna. Anna jerked to a halt.

Her boss’s chest looked like a sculpture, the muscles well-defined and encased in tight, tanned skin with a dusting of dark hair across his pectorals. He had a six-pack or an eight-pack or—wow, how many abdominal muscles were there anyway?—above his low-riding jeans. And those muscles were nothing compared to the big ones roping his arms and shoulders.

Anna’s pulse pounded like a jackhammer, and tension twisted low in her belly. Her face and body filled with heat. Embarrassment, she assured herself, because she’d just blundered into the man’s bedroom.

But she knew better. It might have been almost two years since she’d experienced it, but she recognized the bite of desire. Why now? And why for him, a man whose attitude toward his son infuriated her?

“What in the hell is going on?” Hollister barked, effectively stopping Graham.

“I’m sorry. Graham got away from me after his bath.”

Anna’s peripheral vision captured the king bed, covered with a black spread. Running shorts and a tank top draped across one corner. The room had white carpet, black glossy furniture, a beautiful stone fireplace and a huge window overlooking the river behind the house.

They’d obviously caught Hollister changing and if they’d arrived a minute later…She gulped and momentarily squeezed her eyes shut. He might have been as naked as the boys. She refocused on her quarry.

“Your little guy is quite the runner. Like father, like son, huh?”

Hollister didn’t even crack a smile.

She gulped. “Come on, Graham.”

The wide-eyed tot stood frozen, staring up at the glowering man above him. His bottom lip quivered. Anger sparked inside her. A child should not fear his father.

“Graham, let’s go get dressed, sweetie,” she cajoled, but the tot remained rooted.

“And now the update we’ve been promising you on the disappearance of international news correspondent Katherine Hersh,” a voice said from the huge flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. Hollister’s head whipped toward the screen. His body tensed. His jaw clamped granite hard.

Anna backed a step. “We’ll just g—”

“Quiet,” he barked and Anna stopped much as Graham had earlier.

“We have not been able to ascertain why Hersh was targeted three weeks ago, and none of the extremist groups in the region where her film crew last saw her are claiming responsibility for her abduction. The area where she went missing is known for its civil uprisings over the past decade. If you remember, Hersh’s brother was killed within fifty miles of here two years ago while he was covering the coup for a competing network. The rebels have yet to demand a ransom, and even if they do and it’s paid there’s no guarantee Hersh will be released unharmed. And the longer she’s held without hearing from her abductors, the more dire the outcome appears. At the moment we are trying to ascertain if she’s still alive.”

“She is, damn it,” Hollister snarled. Only then did Anna notice the TV remote he held in a white-knuckle grip.

“Hersh has logged many reports from similar volatile locations, and this isn’t her first brush with danger. She’s one of the savviest correspondents employed by any of the major networks and has often been said to have a sixth sense of impending danger. But if she does, that intuition failed her three weeks ago.




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