Single Father Seeks...
Single Father Seeks...
Amy J. Fetzer
Once they'd shared an unforgettable encounter, but Ciara Caldwell had disappeared into the night, leaving Bryce Ashland with no clue to her identity.He still remembered his mystery woman's face, but now Bryce was a bachelor dad who didn't have time for any female - except his baby girl. Then Ciara unexpectedly landed on his doorstep as his daughter's new nanny, and the fortress around the brooding widower's hardened heart broke wide open.Ciara was the stand-in mother Bryce had dreamed of for baby Carolina - but Ciara's skill as caregiver wasn't all he wanted from her. He ached to share her bed again and again. But could he risk his heart - with everything to lose, but so much to gain?
Friend. Nanny. Stand-In Bride.
When a man needs the
touches only a woman can provide…
he turns to Wife, Inc.
Please Let The New Nanny Be Some Dowdy Grandma Type Who Can Really Help Us,
Bryce thought, opening the door.
Her back to him, at first all he saw was a nicely rounded behind tucked inside jeans, a white blouse and a brown leather vest. And chestnut-brown hair pulled up in a ponytail. Not exactly grandma, he thought.
Then the woman turned, and staring him in the face was the one woman, the only woman, who’d rocked his world and set it on fire. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m from Wife, Incorporated.” Her brows knitted slightly. “Weren’t you expecting me?”
“I was expecting someone, certainly not you.”
“Life is full of little surprises, huh?”
He wanted to call Wife, Incorporated, and ask for someone less…beautiful and exotic. But he needed help now. Besides, he could handle this. He wasn’t going to get involved with the nanny, no matter who she was….
Dear Reader,
Summer vacation is simply a state of mind…so create your dream getaway by reading six new love stories from Silhouette Desire!
Begin your romantic holiday with A Cowboy’s Pursuit by Anne McAllister. This MAN OF THE MONTH title is the author’s 50th book and part of her CODE OF THE WEST miniseries. Then learn how a Connelly bachelor mixes business with pleasure in And the Winner Gets…Married! by Metsy Hingle, the sixth installment of our exciting DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS continuity series.
An unlikely couple swaps insults and passion in Maureen Child’s The Marine & the Debutante—the latest of her popular BACHELOR BATTALION books. And a night of passion ignites old flames in The Bachelor Takes a Wife by Jackie Merritt, the final offering in TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE LAST BACHELOR continuity series.
In Single Father Seeks… by Amy J. Fetzer, a businessman and his baby captivate a CIA agent working under cover as their nanny. And in Linda Conrad’s The Cowboy’s Baby Surprise, an amnesiac FBI agent finds an undreamed-of happily-ever-after when he’s reunited with his former partner and lover.
Read these passionate, powerful and provocative new Silhouette Desire romances and enjoy a sensuous summer vacation!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Single Father Seeks…
Amy J. Fetzer
AMY J. FETZER
was born in New England and raised all over the world. She uses her own experiences in creating the characters and settings for her novels. Married more than twenty years to a United States Marine and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book.
Dedicated with love to my son, Zackary Cain,
For your cartoon obsessions and wanting to explore and invent and draw. For likely being the only teenager who does what he’s told when he’s told and doing it well. For having big dreams and a natural kindness that only angels possess. You, my son, have made me grow as a person and understand why a mother would gladly lay down her life for her child.
I love you.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Prologue
Hong Kong
He was Secret Service. She was CIA. He wasn’t hiding that fact.
She was.
But right now they weren’t hiding a thing from each other. A desire, no, a raging passion she’d never imagined existed inside her, was taking complete command. Ciara loved every second of it. And from the look on his face as she shoved open his trousers, so did he.
She drove her hand inside the dark fabric and he groaned and pushed her against the nearest wall, taking her mouth with an excitement so powerful, so hot, it would burn out of control in no time. She was counting on it. She had wanted him the minute she saw him. She wanted to be wild and escape and spend this one night with him. He was head-turning handsome with a hard body, and that sexy to-die-for look of a secret agent. Coal-black hair, Nordic blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw she wanted to kiss ’til dawn. Add to that a gentlemanly southern drawl, slightly disguised, and she was melting for him with the first word.
Behind them in the hotel room lay a trail of clothes—black, inconspicuous. Just what their jobs called for. But the situation now called for none. Naked. Ciara was nearly there. He wasn’t getting there soon enough.
He ground against her, letting her know he was ready for whatever she had in mind, and she pushed his trousers lower and cupped the tight curve of his buttocks, pulling him into her and sending the same message.
“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he said, his voice whiskey rough as his mouth rolled over her throat, her shoulder. He made quick work of her slip, adding it to the trail with her dress.
“No more than you are me.”
He unclasped her bra, pulling it off, tossing it aside, then filling his palms with her breasts.
Ciara gasped, then gasped again as his thumbs circled her nipples deeply. Oh mercy, his touch was all she needed to explode.
“The instant I saw you, I thought about this.”
She smiled. “Did you imagine this?” she asked, then slicked her tongue over his nipple. He flinched and made a helpless sound she already loved.
“Yeah, I did.”
His knife-creased black slacks hit the floor, and she bent to help them all the way off. And when she stood, she scrubbed her hands over his corded thighs, his trim bare hips. He was built like a wall of muscle, twisted, ropy, delicious to touch and she could tell that he liked watching her touch him. It made her burn for more. She wrapped her hand around his arousal and stroked him harder than he already was.
He couldn’t take it and suddenly he grabbed her against him, and growled, “My turn.” He knelt, peeling her panties down as he went and just the motion made her breathless. He laid wet, grinding kisses to every inch of skin he exposed, rolled her thigh-high stockings down like unrolling a piece of candy and he murmured, “I had a sneaky feeling you were wearing these.”
Just knowing she had, in a roomful of attachés and dignitaries and the former first lady, drove him wild. Now she was wearing only a strand of pearls.
“My, my, secret agent man. You were fantasizing a lot more than I thought,” she said, then howled when his mouth covered her soft center. He licked and played, probed and stroked until she was biting her lip to keep from screaming and bringing hotel security. For an instant, a sliver of time, she wondered about letting a complete stranger do this to her, then she didn’t care. He was all she’d imagined and more, and when he threw her leg over his shoulder and drove deeper, Ciara thought she’d come apart at the seams.
He chuckled darkly as she melted, her leg slipping limply off his shoulder as she sank down, sliding down the wall and straddling his thighs.
“There’s a bed a few feet away,” he said.
“Too far,” she gasped, rocking against his thickness.
He reached for his trousers, fumbled in the pocket, and she barely noticed because he never took his mouth from her. He bent her back over his arm, and then he was inside her, driving upward and clasping her against his wide chest.
“Oh, sweet heaven,” he groaned, cupping her bottom and giving her hips motion because he couldn’t stop it. Bryce pushed his fingers into her hair, loving the sounds she made, that she was as demanding as he, because he craved her. Craved. He’d never hungered for a woman from first sight, never had instant fantasies and instant arousal as he had with just looking at her. The moment he spotted her in that plain black dress, standing off to the side, he’d been preoccupied with her. Wondering what was under that simple dress, enjoying the shift of silk as she walked. Wondering what she looked like with her hair down instead of in that tight, reserved twist. He even liked the way she sipped champagne. And the way she looked at him, slow and possessive. As if she knew what he looked like naked, and she was in a hurry to see it firsthand. As if she knew one touch and they’d be unrestrained and reckless like this.
No one would have suspected. She had an innocence in her face, a cheerleader all-American scrubbed clean look, but a body like a movie star. All woman, ripe and curvy. Not skinny and flat. He loved it. And knew, even if she wasn’t rocking against him, that he held a real woman in his arms. A woman who enjoyed being a woman. And he wanted to do nothing but see pleasure on her beautiful face.
Bryce got down to the business of giving her exactly what she wanted and tasted every inch of her he could reach, stroked her, nipped and soothed and discovered the backs of her thighs were extremely sensitive. Then suddenly, they were over the top, thrashing against each other, rolling across the lush carpet. In the space of a few minutes they tried three positions, laughing as they contorted, then gasping when the friction was almost too much to bear, hurrying, taking only seconds for a thick kiss, and when he had her beneath him, vulnerable, he pushed into her with a measured deliberation that made her cry out and claw for him. She locked her legs around his hips and thrust and pulsed, touching him everywhere, and he held her off the floor, pushing and retreating, watching her pleasure ignite over her exquisite features. He would take that moment with him forever, he thought. Never had he been with a woman who was so confident in herself, in her sexuality, and it made him want her more. She gave as much as she took.
Then it came.
The heavy rush of heat and sensation, a tingling so intense it felt like needles on his spine. Like a throbbing wave about to crash. Suddenly she gripped his jaw and whispered, “Take me with you,” and he pushed, once, twice, and they reached for the stars together.
She cried out and bowed like a ribbon of womanly passion.
Time stopped. Soft moans and panting breaths filling the expensive hotel room. Moonlight spilled through the windows and coated them as his desire beat a throbbing pulse inside her, stretching as her feminine muscles flexed and pawed around him.
Bryce looked down at her, trembling with the power of their loving and she smiled up at him, pulling his weight onto her. She was barely sated, her foot sliding up his calf, his thigh, her hands stroking him, holding him as if she’d known him all her life and not just the past few hours.
With a hard sigh, he rolled to his side, tucking her close, yet before they could catch their breath, pagers went off, a cell phone rang.
He kissed her deeply. “Ignore them.”
“I can’t.” But she kissed him back anyway, then disentangled herself from him.
He rose up, reaching for her. “Where are you going?”
“I have to answer that.” She knew from experience that whoever was on the other end of that line would not give up. “Don’t want hotel security coming up and asking why we’re still making so much noise, right?”
He didn’t give a damn. He wanted her again.
But she was already going for the phone, gathering her clothes as she talked softly. She looked back at him, and he let his gaze roam her naked body, to the deep chestnut brown hair spilling down her back. Man, she was luscious. She smiled, returning the stare with equal intensity. He felt himself grow hard again. Then she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Bryce looked around at the debris of clothes, and started to reach for them, then gave up and fell onto the carpet.
He’d never done anything like that before. Never.
A total stranger. A siren in a little black dress and pearls.
Less than five minutes later she came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and pulling on the strappy little sandals that made him want to taste her ankles. She walked to him and stopped. He hadn’t moved. Good grief, he could still scarcely breathe.
“I have to go,” she said and her eyes were all business.
“Now?”
Her sudden smile was small and purely feminine. “Yeah. No strings remember?”
“And no names.”
She tipped her head to the side. “It’s better this way. You have an important job and I’d just be a complication.”
“Just who the hell are you?”
“An embassy secretary.”
“Liar.”
Her expression, one that had been so open with emotion minutes ago, slammed closed. Cold. Detached. And making him think that the woman standing before him now was a ghost of the passionate creature he’d held in his arms. He didn’t like it.
She tossed him his pager, and he caught it. “The first lady is calling you.”
He looked at the pager and wondered how she could tell from just a number. Or was that just an educated guess? Most Secret Service agents in a crowd didn’t look very secretive. When he looked up, she was lowering onto his lap, her arms wrapping his neck. Her mouth played over his with a heat that seared him again.
Now this was the woman he wanted to be with. “Can I interest you in another round, darlin’?” he said against her lips as his hands moved under the hem of her dress.
What a temptation, to discard her duties and have another romp with this hunk of man. But her partner needed her. “You could always interest me, secret agent man. But, I have to go.”
She stood, bent to kiss him once more, leaving her scent branded into his skin, and he lay there like an idiot and watched her walk out of his life. Forever. He knew it was forever. Excitement like that was once in a lifetime and neither of them, obviously had the time or the will to grab hold and keep it. Bryce had a feeling that the lady in black was just a dream and none of this was real.
One
Five years later
Beaufort, South Carolina
Ciara needed to hide. To go deep under.
In a spot not even the CIA would think to look.
The world was a big place. She could be anywhere, right?
And this small southern town was just the right ticket. It was historical and touristy. If need be, she could blend in. A CIA safe house, a cabin in the wilderness would have been better, but she’d have to go through agency contacts to get one and Ciara wasn’t trusting anyone just yet.
She’d already trusted the wrong man, she thought with a cynical twist to her lips and a glance in the rearview mirror to see if she were being followed. And that’s the reason she was dropping out of sight.
She blamed most of that on herself. With the exception of a one-night affair five years ago, she’d been burned enough by men whose job it was to lie and deceive and gain crucial information. When did she get so clueless about them? When had she refused to believe a thing a man said? Gee, she thought. Maybe when her partner started showing up late for rendezvous and had more cash than they earned in a year. And the worst of this was, that two years ago they’d been lovers. Though it was long over, she’d let old feelings interfere with her judgment, and didn’t see what was really going on. And it had taken her a while to admit it. He’d used her emotionally and professionally, and that she’d allowed it to happen was too humiliating to swallow. She’d never make that mistake again. Not with any man.
Her hand slipped off the wheel and touched the flight tote with the videotape stashed inside. It was backup, and she thought of the man she’d caught betraying his country on the film. Her partner, Mark Faraday was six feet of slender male, with sun-bleached hair that told her he had more time off than she did. Good-looking, but not too good-looking to draw attention, Mark was born with a silver tongue. Now the laid back surfer spy was a national security risk by giving classified material away. A mole. And a risk to her.
She made a sour face and for the tenth time, called herself a fool. Then she’d called in a favor from her old college sorority sister, Katherine Davenport. First, Kat had been shocked to hear from her after all these years, and second, reluctant to give her a job. But Ciara would go nuts if she were stashed somewhere with nothing to do, waiting for the truth to come out and drag Mark to a high-security prison. She had to keep occupied, and her mind off her troubles. Caring for a one-year-old girl was going to be easy, like reliving her teen years. She’d practically raised her little sister Cassie after their parents had been killed in a jet crash over Scotland. Well, she and her older brothers. It hadn’t taken much to convince Kat she was qualified. Childcare was how she’d earned extra money during college. Ciara knew baby care about as well as she knew when and where the satellites were aligned to pick up the best frequencies and take aerial photos.
Ciara had to assure Kat she wasn’t putting anyone in danger. And the first thing she would do when she had a chance was mail the videotape to a neutral party. Then a carefully worded note that would take the heat off of her.
She wasn’t paying much attention to the beautiful landscape until she hit a rut in the road. She braked, gawking at the gnarled live oaks draped in Spanish moss and the so-green-it-hurt-her-eyes lawn. The scent of jasmine came through the car’s air conditioner, enveloping her. Throwing the car into park, she quickly climbed out, checking the address, then stared at the house.
House?
Heck, this was Tara revisited. Two stories with wraparound porches on both levels, the white house was magnificent—spreading across an acre and surrounded by about ten more, if she had to guess.
Did only a widower and a baby live in all this?
She hoped he had a maid.
Grabbing her tote, she slung it onto her shoulder and walked up the steps, taking a deep breath of the fragrances of jasmine and wisteria. An odd peace came with it, and the tension she’d carried for days flowed out of her muscles.
This wasn’t just isolation and safety, this was a dream.
Bryce felt warm slimy peaches slide off his face and plop on his chest. “Well,” he said tiredly, staring blankly at his eleven-month-old daughter. “I see we’re going to have to work on your table etiquette.”
She shrieked, twisting her head to the side when he offered her more. Bryce tossed the spoon aside and sagged into the chair, giving up this battle.
Carolina proceeded to play with the mess on the high chair tray.
Bryce looked around at the results of feeding his daughter and knew his late wife was laughing. Diana would say this was justice for not loving her like she needed. God knows he had tried. He’d done everything he could to make the marriage work. A marriage he hadn’t wanted. She’d loved him, but in the end, he knew she’d hated him.
Guilt swam through Bryce. He and Diana had been lovers briefly when he’d come home from the Secret Service for a visit. Those two nights produced the little girl in the high chair. And when Carolina had arrived, Diana’s life ended. He loved his baby more than his life, and he knew that marrying Diana because she was pregnant was the right thing to do then, but he hadn’t mourned her.
The guilt intensified and he pushed his fingers into his hair and pushed the thoughts out of his mind.
He swore he was never going to get involved with a woman again.
Heck, he was terrified of letting this tiny female down. Of ruining her life like he had her mother’s. He couldn’t trust himself not to destroy another woman’s life. Not to mention the damage it did to his soul.
His daughter flung the mushy beige food, a glob landing on his shirt. He didn’t bother to wipe it and thought of his former colleagues in the Secret Service seeing him now. A far cry from the man who lived dangerously, moment to moment protecting the first family. He was now Mr. Mom and a complete failure at it, he thought. There should be a school or something for dads who had to be moms, too.
Four days without a nanny and he was seeing exactly how useless he was at being a reliable father. He didn’t think he’d miss the skills of a woman more than he did right now. His sister had helped him a few times after Diana’s death, but she had her own family. His parents were retired, leaving him the family business and this monstrous house while they traveled the world. It was only right, but the shrimping business was taking off like a runaway train and he hadn’t been able to operate it from this house since before his daughter was born.
He looked at his baby. He’d had a nanny, but she’d refused to be a live-in. Carolina needed consistency, someone there for her when he couldn’t be. Someone who would be tender and loving. And almost a mother. What his baby didn’t need was a parade of strangers marching through her life now. She was so young and had a tendency to scream bloody murder when a stranger got close. Probably because all she ever saw was him and the nanny. The maid, well she was from a service, and all business. And rarely the same one each time.
The last nanny said Carolina was difficult. And when he’d found the woman lounging around, watching soap operas while his daughter cried in a playpen, Bryce had fired her. The next three nannies hadn’t been any better.
Neglecting his child was not an option, nor was putting her in a day-care center where she’d get sick and there were too many children. He wanted his daughter to have attention while he was at work. Lord, he didn’t think finding child care would be so difficult. Luckily, someone had recommended Wife Incorporated to him. He’d spoken with the owner, Katherine Davenport, and though she sounded nice, what mattered was that she’d come to his rescue. She was sending a nanny out today. Any minute.
Bryce prayed it was someone with a tender heart.
And he hoped she arrived soon.
Carolina shrieked, her lip curling down, and he left his chair to walk over to a cookie jar. He gave her one cookie. Instantly she quieted.
He would deal with the chocolate mess later.
Bribery, he thought as he dropped back into the chair, was acceptable in grave situations.
Bryce started to clean up the mess, bending down on his hands and knees to get the food spilled on the floor. He chased a piece of cereal and when Carolina burst into tears, he flinched and bumped his head on the table. He stood, staring down at her as she reared back in that squirm he’d come to know meant she was done and wanted down now. Then she started kicking and crying. Bryce rushed to finish cleaning up the mess, then handed his daughter a carrot to grind against her cutting teeth.
“Five minutes, princess,” he pleaded. “I just need five minutes.”
She threw the carrot and cried harder.
Then the doorbell rang.
Taking Carolina out of the high chair, Bryce struggled to keep a safe hold on her when she squirmed, refusing to be still. Since she was already climbing out of her crib and crawling away with amazing speed, he didn’t dare put her on the floor yet. Besides, he could tell how clean it wasn’t anyway.
“We have company, sweetie.” Carolina looked up at him, chocolate cookie smeared over her face and clothes. She worked the mush in her hand as if it would hurry it into her mouth. Then she stilled and offered him a bite, missing his mouth and jamming the soggy cookie somewhere near his ear.
“Well,” he said as he walked toward the door. “Guess it’s good that she sees us at our worst, huh?”
His hand on the door, Bryce tipped his head back. Please Lord, let it be some dowdy grandma type who can really help us.
He opened the door.
Her back to him, at first all he saw was a nicely rounded behind tucked inside jeans, a white blouse and a brown leather vest. And chestnut-brown hair pulled up in a ponytail.
Not exactly grandma, he thought.
The woman turned and her features slackened.
Bryce thought his knees would fold beneath him any second.
Staring him in the face was the one woman, the only woman, who’d rocked his world and set it on fire.
“I can’t believe this,” he said more to himself.
“Well, hey there, secret agent man,” she replied softly and the words held the echo of the one and only time they’d been together.
Bryce’s body seized with the memory. Naked and wild. The feel and taste of her rocketing through his mind. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m from Wife Incorporated.” Her brows knitted slightly. “Weren’t you expecting me?”
“I was expecting someone, certainly not you.”
“Life is full of little surprises, huh?”
Surprise, hell. This was a “knock him into next week” shock, he thought, holding her gaze and seeing much more in her cognac-brown eyes, the way they flared when he was inside her, the sly look she got when she knew she was giving him pleasure.
And Ciara saw it, in his expression, the memory of that one night. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her cool and not remember the only time she’d seen this man…when he had her up against a hotel wall and was devouring her. Greedy and primal. The instant their eyes met, her body had jumped to life. Now she felt her breathing increase, heat twisting through her. He was the only man who could do that to her. With just a look of those ice-blue eyes.
And now she was suppose to live in his house?
Her gaze swept him. He looked ragged, and far from the man she saw last. Baby food clung to his hair and T-shirt, and there was a dark brown streak hastily wiped off his cheek near his ear. His jeans were splattered with assorted bits of soggy cereal and spilled coffee. It was almost comical, except in his arms a dark haired infant was twisting like a slippery fish trying to get back in the water, and crying to be let down.
Ciara instantly dropped her bag and stepped closer. “Hey,” she said softly, tugging on the baby’s dress, which was in as bad a shape as her father’s shirt and slacks. “Hey there.”
The baby came upright sharply and stared at her with wide blue eyes. “Hello there, sweetie,” she said, her gaze on the child as she asked, “Are you going to introduce me, Mr. Bryce Ashland?”
Bryce blinked and followed her gaze to Carolina, who was still crying, but looking curious. His gaze shot back to her. “Maybe when I know your name.”
Smiling, she held out her hand. “Ciara. Ciara Stuart.”
Bryce grasped her hand and the pulse of her blood hummed through him. Oh God, he thought. It hasn’t changed one bit. One touch and his entire being jumped to life, his nerves jingling and leaving his heart thumping like a sledgehammer in his chest. Everything he remembered about her came back tenfold and Bryce realized in that moment that this woman had done more than leave an impression.
She’d branded him.
It was so strong that Hong Kong seemed like days ago, not five years.
Her memory was just as clear, and Ciara’s heart skipped into high gear, the warmth of his fingers around hers reminding her of how seductive they could be. How they felt on her skin, slipping inside her body. Suddenly she ached with a longing so deep she had trouble not groaning aloud. Just looking at him made her feel alive and hot. Her secret agent man. Her fantasy man. Oh, this was too weird. A shock, yes, a danger, maybe. How was she going to be around this man? Especially when all she could think of was that seductive night and that in those few short hours he’d made feel more alive and female and wicked than in her entire life. Or that the memory of him had kept her company when she was isolated and completely friendless.
Her fingers moved in his and his grip tightened warmly. For a moment she thought he’d lace his fingers with hers and pull her toward him like he’d done in the elevator that night. As if he understood, he gave her a sexy smile that made her toes curl, then pulled free.
Bryce inclined his head. “This is my daughter, Carolina.”
Ciara dragged her attention back to the baby and noticed the brown goo all over her. “Chocolate?” Her eyes went wide. “For a baby? Are you nuts? Oh, you do need help.” She lightly clapped her hands, then held them out to the child.
Carolina launched into her arms. The crying instantly stopped.
Ciara patted the baby’s back, and Bryce watched in complete amazement as his daughter nuzzled her dirty face against Ciara’s chest.
Bryce blinked. “It’s got to be a woman thing.”
“Not really, it’s a baby thing. I’m just not fighting with her.” She grinned at him, a little devilish and his heart choked. “Besides, she’s warm, messy, sticky and I can’t believe you gave her sugar.” She plucked the remains of the cookie from the baby and dropped it into his hand.
Carolina didn’t make a fuss. Then Ciara stepped inside the house, brushing past him. “Which way to the kitchen?” she said as she walked.
“Your next right.” He stood there for a moment, then grabbed her bag and her suitcases off the porch and brought them inside. Closing the door, he strode into the kitchen, tossing the cookie in the trash.
She had Carolina on the counter and was gently washing her face and hands, talking softly, smiling. “Well, darling, you need a bath and some fresh clothes.” She glanced at Bryce, then her gaze swept meaningfully to the mess on the kitchen table. “How much of that did she really eat?”
“Not much. She more or less made missiles of it all.”
Ciara nodded. “Does she use a bottle or a cup?”
“As of recently, one of these,” he said, holding up a tippy cup that rolled when he set it back down.
“Is she on a schedule?”
“A what?”
Lifting the child in her arms, she looked at him. He was washing his hands, and not more than two feet away from her. It set her nerves tingling again.
“A schedule. Nap time, bedtime, bath time.”
“No.”
“So she’s been ruling the roost.”
His shoulder sagged a little. “Pretty much.” Why did that embarrass him? Drying his hands on a towel, he eyed her. “You aren’t going to regiment Carolina into a routine, are you?”
“No, but I’ve learned from the best that setting times for meals and naps helps babies as much as it does the parents.” She cocked her head. “How do you think moms get anything done?”
“It’s a talent that has escaped me, obviously.” He cleared his throat and asked, “Are you a mother?”
“No, and never married.”
He nodded. “So how did you get experience with babies?”
“I have all the requirements you wanted, but I raised my younger sister and I earned money in college by being a nanny. Mostly on the weekends, though.”
“Made for dull college days.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She looked at the baby in her arms, realizing that it had been a while since she’d cared for a child this young. Years. Since she’d joined the agency. Yet the memories of her college years swept through her like a warm, gentle breeze. Those other people’s children had been her saviors when she’d felt lonely and homesick. And though she never considered herself mom material, especially after years with the CIA, this child needed her. It was obvious with the chaos in this house. But could she be objective, walk away when everything in her career was back to normal?
“Ms. Stuart?”
Bryce’s tone warned her that he’d called her more than once and she blamed her inattention on the alias last name she’d given him. She met his gaze and smiled. “Call me Ciara. I think it’s a bit more appropriate.”
His features tightened, as if fighting a smile.
“She looks just like you,” Ciara said and somehow that pleased him.
He looked at his daughter and his entire body softened. He moved closer, touching Carolina’s hair. “You think so?”
“Yeah.”
He met her gaze and their close proximity made his thoughts skip and stall on her, made him imagine what she looked like naked. What she felt like in his arms. This was going to be tough if he couldn’t even look at her without remembering that night. He wanted to call Wife Incorporated and ask for someone less…beautiful and exotic. But he needed help now. Besides, he could handle this, he thought. He wasn’t going to get involved with the nanny, no matter who she was. However, just seeing his baby cuddled in her arms did something to him.
“So Mr. Ashland, are we going to stand in this tornado of a room all day or are you going to show me this house and tell me what I’ll be doing?”
Bryce watched her stroke Carolina’s arm, then press her lips to the top of his daughter’s head. As if she’d known his child from the day she was born. But household duties were not what he was thinking about right now. He couldn’t take his eyes off Ciara. She hadn’t changed. She was still a classic beauty, and though she looked a little thinner than before, she was still curved and womanly. The thought of putting his hands on her bare skin again made him hard, and he instantly knew he could get into real trouble with her around. He reminded himself she was his employee and old fantasies were just that. Old and buried. Well, he thought with a long look at her, not quite buried.
Before his imagination took off to parts unknown, he cleared his throat and gestured to the room. “The kitchen obviously,” he tossed a thumb back over his shoulder. “The garage, laundry room and back door are that way. There’s an old servants staircase there, too.”
Servant. That’s what she was to him. Even if he was looking at her like they’d made love last night instead of five years ago. And despite that and the fantasies floating through her mind when she looked at him, she had to keep that in mind, remember why she was here and that she’d be leaving soon. It wouldn’t take the agency long to nab Mark.
Needing a distraction, Ciara looked around the huge peach, green and white kitchen. It was decorated like something out of a magazine, with all the latest appliances and an island counter with a sink. A chef’s dream. She couldn’t wait to see the rest of this place.
“Can you cook?”
“Sure.” She frowned a bit. “With Wife Incorporated, it’s a requirement. Why would you ask?”
“Home cooking is the last thing I’d expect from you,” he said with a sly glance.
Ciara’s heart skipped an entire beat at the sound of his voice and she looked him over. “Being a dad is the last I’d have expected of you.”
He gave her a velvety look. “No expectations, remember?”
She smirked. How could she not remember?
Bryce walked ahead and with the baby in her arms, Ciara followed him into the living room. “Front parlor,” he said, then pointed out the dining room beyond before walking into the main hall. The foyer was wide, a staircase on the right sweeping to the second floor. He pointed to it. “Bedrooms and baths upstairs, den and library there,” he said, gesturing to the left as he walked down the hall.
Carolina made noises, adding her own input.
Now that she’d had the chance to really look, Ciara was floored. The carved ceiling panels and wainscoting were works of art. Paintings hung on the walls and the hall was wide enough to fit a settee. When she’d driven up the long oak tree-lined driveway and had first seen the two-story house with double porches, she wondered how she was supposed to take care of this place when it went on forever. White with green plantation shutters, it spoke of old charm and grace, and she admitted it gave her a strange sense of home.
Odd, when she hadn’t had a real home since joining the CIA.
He led her back through the kitchen, then into a large Carolina room banked with windows and filled with casual furniture, the TV, a stereo. He crossed to a pair of French doors and threw them open, letting her step out onto the back deck first.
And as she passed he whispered softly, “Welcome, Ciara, to River Bend.”
Two
Ciara stilled for a second. His tone made it seem as if he’d waited a lifetime to say that. And he meant it. She didn’t dare look back over her shoulder at him. She could already feel the heat of his muscled body behind her like the sweet warmth of the sun. The urge to stop and sink back into him was nearly overpowering.
She mentally shook herself. Fantasy ends here, she thought. She hated that just his presence gave her ideas she’d no business having. She stepped farther onto the back deck and said, “Thank you. So, you named your house?”
He eyed her. “I take it you’re not from the south.”
Finally, she looked at him. “Well, I could fake a southern accent, if you want.” She couldn’t tell him that yes, she was from the south, born and raised only a couple hundred miles away from here, but she’d taken great pains to lose her southern accent. In the CIA, it didn’t help to have her speech marked so clearly.
They walked farther out onto the deck.
Ciara scanned the landscape and lost her breath. “My God, this is heaven.”
Though they were a good hundred yards from the water, the view was incredible—the river, houses on the other side, the sea toward the inlet. There was an in-ground pool and beyond it a gazebo big enough to house a table and chairs and chaise lounges. Live oaks and palm trees shaded the yard here and there, and even as the sun began its descent, she could see an intricate flower garden off to the left, a wicker sofa and table tucked under the spreading branches dripping with Spanish moss. That same sense of peace swept her again and her gaze landed on a wood swing hanging from a tree limb, and then a babbling fountain resting under the shade trees. Ahead of her, a dock stretched for half the length of a football field over the marsh to the water, a screened porch lay a few yards before the end of the pier. There were two boats anchored at the end, a dinged-up, well-used johnboat and a ritzy gleaming cabin cruiser. The contrast spoke volumes about Bryce.
“All this from the Secret Service?” she said softly.
He chuckled to himself. “Lord no. I barely made the rent working for the government. This house has been in my family for generations. It was my parents’ home.”
“They’re retired?”
“Yes, they live in Florida when they aren’t on a jet heading somewhere else.”
She looked at the baby, rocking her from side to side and noticing her little eyelids drooping. “A lot of house for just the two of you, huh sweetheart?” When she looked at Bryce, he was staring at her oddly. Her brows knit, her look questioning.
Bryce couldn’t say why he was so touched by the gesture. His baby in her arms, the gentle way Ciara touched Carolina. He never expected anything so tender from a woman like her. And he reminded himself that all he knew about her was what it was like to make love to her, to be completely and utterly driven mad by her touch.
Stop looking at me like that, she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to open that can of worms.
“It’s breathtaking,” she said into the silence. “Did you grow up here?”
“Yes. Me and my sister Hope. She lives closer to town.” Bryce looked off at the marsh. “There are gators in there occasionally. If you go near, be careful.”
“I understand.” She kept her gaze on the landscape as they strolled around the pool deck. “The décor is lovely, Bryce. Who did it? Your wife?”
He looked at her sharply. “No, my mother. I didn’t live here with Diana.”
She propped Carolina on her hip and said, “Diana, huh?”
The mention of his wife’s name set him suddenly on edge. “I wasn’t married to her when you and I met.”
Her brows shot up. “I didn’t think you were.” A pause and then, “So what happened to her?”
A surge of guilt pounded through Bryce at the thought of his late wife, and what he’d done to her life. He didn’t want to talk about Diana. Especially not with Ciara. Somehow, if he did, it felt as if he were hurting Diana more than he already had.
At his hesitation she added, “If it’s too painful and you’d rather not…”
“Yes, it is painful, but—” He gave Ciara the minimum. “She died when Carolina was born. She had gestational diabetes. The pregnancy was very difficult. Toxemia and the diabetes caused her death.”
Ciara heard the anger building in his voice. And the torment in his features. He must have loved his wife deeply, she thought. To lose his wife and then be forced to care for a newborn alone, how hard it must have been for him.
In the ensuing silence, she watched him stare out over the marsh, his handsome features twisted with anger and the echo of old pain.
“And while we are on the subject, let’s get one thing straight right now,” he said, grinding the words past clenched teeth. He faced her, his hands on his hips, his entire stance as belligerent as a man about to do battle. Something had changed in him in those few seconds, with those few words. Gone was the sexy man she knew, the man needing help with his child, and before her stood a guardian. Guarding what, she didn’t know.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not looking for a replacement.”
She blinked. “I’m not looking to be one.” She had a career to return to, a job that meant changing the world.
“Carolina is my concern. She needs someone who is here when I’m not. She needs…mothering.”
Oh lord, Ciara thought. Baby-sitting yes, but mothering? After years with the CIA, she was the farthest thing from a mother type. Was she out of her league with this job? Too late to back out now, she thought, remembering how she’d badgered Katherine into giving her this position. Take it like an undercover assignment, she thought, a masquerade. “I can handle it.”
He eyed her. “I know you’re bonded and trained, but that has little to do with caring for my daughter.”
“I should say so.” Did he think she was completely incapable?
Silence. Hard and biting as they stared.
She squared off with him, wondering why he was suddenly so defensive. “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind, Bryce? Get it off your chest right now.”
“I don’t trust you.” There was just too much mystery surrounding her. The fact that she was back in his life, in this position, was enough to make him cautious.
“You did enough that night.” Instantly she hated herself for bringing up their past.
“That was five years ago. I was single without a care except who was looking funny at the former first lady. And that night was just about us. Now it’s about Carolina.” He shook his head. “My life is completely different. I’m not the same man.”
“Well, here’s a news flash, Ashland. I haven’t changed. I’m not the mother type. I’ll do my level best for Carolina while I’m here, but don’t expect what I can’t give.”
Bryce recognized her look. Her features shuttered so quickly he felt it like a cold breeze. It was the same look she’d given him in the hotel room when she’d come out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to leave. All traces of the passion they’d shared were erased.
That she could hold his baby in her arms and could call on this emotionless look, added to his suspicions. “What were you doing in Hong Kong?”
“Embassy work.” It wasn’t a lie, she thought, just not the whole truth. “Now can I have a say?”
He nodded.
“What happened between us was a one-time thing. One time. This is a coincidence, a one in a million chance. Deal with it. I need the job, and you and Carolina need me. Let’s just leave it at that, okay, boss?”
“My daughter needs you, not me.”
“Thanks for clarifying that,” she said. “I was having visions of weddings and receptions already.”
Her delivery was cold and sarcastic. Bryce didn’t like it.
“And while we’re drawing battle lines, if I’d wanted more after Hong Kong, I would have looked you up again,” she said. “Really great sex doesn’t mean I want a lifetime.”
His features yanked taut.
“Have I made myself clear?”
He nodded. “Fine. We understand each other.”
“Not by a long shot, Ashland.”
Bryce’s lips tightened.
She arched a brow. Let him stew, she thought. She wouldn’t be revealing anything about herself or her past, and that one night with him had nothing to do with the present. Except to remind her that while his life had changed and grown, hers hadn’t. All that was different was the one mistake she’d made. Trusting the wrong man. The instant she thought of her partner and the magnitude of his betrayal, Ciara knew she couldn’t trust her feelings. About anything. She’d botched it up badly by not seeing what was there, and with Bryce, she had to remember the price of loving—no, not love, the price of getting involved with someone had only rewarded Ciara with heartache. Besides she had to lie to him, she had to keep her real life secret. Involving him in any part of her career or the knowledge of it could bring harm to him or this sweet baby. She would never allow that to happen. She’d vanish first. Her job was to protect her country’s interests—and its people were under that umbrella.
Even if it was raining where she stood.
“I’ll put your bags in your room,” Bryce said, effectively ending this standoff, “and your car in the garage.”
She fished in the pocket of her jeans and tossed him the keys, glad she’d cleared the rental car of anything that bore her real name. “I’ll be with your daughter.” She turned sharply and headed back into the house.
“Where are you going?”
“The sun is too hot for her without a bonnet and sunblock, and she’s tired.”
Bryce silently approved and followed, then frowned at her back as she walked briskly through the house toward the foyer. Though she held his daughter gently, allowing Carolina to grab onto her ponytail, he could feel the remoteness about Ciara. It was as if she had an invisible wall around her now.
He didn’t blame her, really. And it was better for him all around. But for his daughter? Though her actions toward his baby so far were tender, Bryce wondered if she’d deny Carolina her affections because of him.
It was another reason not to trust her.
He’d have to keep an eye on her for the next few days.
And nights?
Damn.
The thought of this woman sleeping down the hall from him made his body jump and rock to life.
“I have work to do,” he said from behind her. “My home office is the library.”
“Fine. Have at it,” she replied as she mounted the staircase. “Though you might want to change.”
Bryce glanced down at his clothes and silently groaned at the food splattered over him. He lifted his gaze to Ciara and his daughter stared at him over Ciara’s shoulder. Bryce waved to his baby.
Carolina bounced up and down in Ciara’s arms, kicking her feet, her cherub face lit up with happiness, as if to say, “See daddy, this is what it’s like to have a mom.”
Bryce’s heart broke then and there.
And he decided he’d put up with just about anything to see his daughter smile like that. But how would he survive with that luscious, mysterious woman right under his nose? And regardless of what he’d said, deep inside, in a place that was lonely and hungry for female company, he wanted to experience another mindless night of desire in Ciara’s arms.
Ciara bathed Carolina, and dried her off before warming baby lotion in her hands and rubbing it in slow circular motions over the sleepy infant. The child was nearly asleep on the changing table and Ciara made quick work of putting on a diaper and fresh clothes.
The infant fussed and rubbed her eyes, pulling at her hair as Ciara sat in the padded rocker, humming softly, the baby nuzzled on her chest. Ciara inhaled the sweet scents, rubbing up and down Carolina’s spine, her own eyelids heavy with a comfort she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She thought and wondered then about her brothers and their children. She hadn’t seen her nephews in years and if her calculations were right, they were in school by now. Then her thoughts drifted to her sister Cassie, who’d finished college summa cum laude and was off somewhere doing something that had nothing to do with her financial degree. Ciara missed them all terribly. She didn’t usually, because she simply chose not to think about them. It had become increasingly easy to block out her past and her family, she thought with regret. She’d never had time to sit back and think of them, her mind had always been focused on her assignment. The cold objectivity was a part of her after all these years. Her lips twisted with self-disgust. That hadn’t stopped her from letting old feelings darn near ruin her career, she thought, and her anger at Mark Faraday settled like a simmering kettle in her chest. She left it there, refusing to waste more energy on him.
Her thoughts drifted immediately to Bryce.
She cocked a look at the sleeping baby in her arms, then stood and carried Carolina to her crib. Laying her down, she tried to remember if at this age they slept on their stomach or back, then laid Carolina on her tummy. Just before she did, Carolina opened her eyes, staring at her so trustingly, and Ciara thought suddenly that nothing she did in her life, nothing for her country, for the CIA, was more important than what she was doing right now. For this child. She stroked her back and the baby’s eyes drifted closed.
How much tenderness had this little girl missed because she didn’t have a mother? Bryce had to be both mother and father and Ciara remembered the different relationships she’d had with her parents. Her mom had been her role model, and made Ciara feel special, as if they shared a secret that men took years to understand. Ciara’s mother had given her pretty things and taught her to take pride in her appearance for herself, not for anyone who might happen to notice. Ciara tried to pass that to Cassie. Yet her dad had been the one who let her hang with her brothers, who won the argument with her mother when she wanted to play soccer. Dad had kept telling her there was nothing she couldn’t do. He’d pushed her to excel, to learn more than one language and make the grade to join the CIA.
Lord she missed them. But they were dead now, killed in a jet crash over Scotland. She hadn’t been able to attend their funeral because she was stuck somewhere in Asia, hiding in a warehouse surveying gunrunners. And somehow, over the years, she’d lost the rest of her family, too. It was a hard fact to swallow, but Ciara admitted silently that though her parents were taken from her, she’d allowed her brothers and sister to fade from her life. Because of her career. Shame rippled through her along with a surprisingly sharp stab of homesickness.
The baby cooed in her sleep, wiggling under the thin blanket, and something hard wrenched in Ciara’s chest. For some reason, she couldn’t leave the baby just yet. Not alone. She was so little.
And for the first time in a long time, someone truly innocent, needed her.
Bryce stood in the doorway, studying Ciara. He tried not to notice how beautiful she looked there bent over his baby’s crib, rubbing Carolina’s back, watching her sleep. Seeing her there struck a chord in him and twisted his insides. She looked so at ease and though Carolina had known the touch of Bryce’s mother and sister, it seemed that a perfect stranger was more soothing than either of them. Instantly he thought of Diana.
Would she approve?
Not if she knew he and Ciara had spent a night together. He’d never told anyone about that night, keeping it private, for himself alone. Telling Diana would have been mean and unnecessary. And caused more problems because she’d been possessive from the start, wanting him to quit the Secret Service for her and their unborn child. Married only a month, and seeing no way around it and feeling equally responsible, he had. Though he resented it at the time, and constantly being around her likely made things worse between them, he didn’t resent leaving the service anymore. Not since his daughter had filled his life and his heart.
“She’s so beautiful,” Ciara said into the silence, startling him, and Bryce realized she’d known he was there all this time.
“Thank you.” He watched her give the blankets a last tuck, then straighten and walk toward him. The tender look she gave his daughter still on her features.
He stared, absorbing it.
“How long have you been caring for her alone?”
“Other than when she was first born, a week.”
“How do you get your work done?” she asked, admiration coloring her voice.
“I don’t. I’m way behind. That’s why I hired Wife Incorporated.”
Ciara shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans when she really wanted to touch him, run her hands over his taut muscled chest. “And here you get me.”
Bryce saw the flicker of reservation in her eyes and wondered over it when she seemed so confident earlier. Trusting her seemed further away than he first thought. “Carolina seems to like you.”
Ciara gazed up at him, her body sensing his, that current shooting up from her heels. “She’s great.”
Bryce experienced the same heady heat that drew him to Ciara that night in Hong Kong. She was inches from him, in the doorway and knowing he shouldn’t, he lifted his hand to her face. Before he touched her, she stepped back, her tender expression vanished, replaced with an indifferent mask he already recognized.
His brow furrowed.
Her eyes were glacial, hard. Then she turned and walked down the hall.
Leaning on the door frame, Bryce watched her leave, thinking that no matter what they felt when they were near each other, there was a part of Ciara that was isolated, a woman hidden behind a wall. She might be gentle and tender with his daughter, but she wasn’t letting down her guard.
Bryce went back to his office and remained there most of the day. With music playing in his office, he didn’t hear any noise in the house and managed to catch up on the backlog of work. Yet when he glanced at his watch and realized how much time had passed and that he hadn’t heard his daughter or Ciara in a while, he shot out of the chair and rushed to the door.
How could he be so careless? He knew nothing about this woman. And he’d left her and his baby alone together for hours.
Panicked, he stopped short in the hall, glancing left and right. “Ciara?” Thoughts of accidents filled his tired mind.
“Yes,” she called from somewhere in the house. “In here.”
Only a little relieved, he demanded, “Where the hell is here?”
“Well, duh, in the kitchen.”
He nearly ran down the hall, his heart pounding and when he entered the room he froze. Carolina was tucked in her high chair, chasing cereal around her tray and stuffing as much as she could in her mouth, and Ciara was at the stove. For a second he just stared.
No one on this planet had a right to look that sexy in an apron.
And she’d changed into a tank top and cutoffs that had seen way better days, and were short as hell. They showed off every curve and for a moment, he let his gaze roam over her from head to bare toes. She moved efficiently, sautéing vegetables, checking something in the oven, then punching the timer on the microwave. Plus, glancing over at his daughter while she worked. It was as if she didn’t know he was in the room now. And here he was, like a stag scenting a doe. The fact made him see how long it had been since he’d had a woman. A little over a year. He’d been married in name only, since he and Diana had wed when she was two months pregnant and they’d stopped sleeping together when her pregnancy became difficult, and that happened at the end of her first trimester.
Good grief, it had been a long time.
But then, he hadn’t been interested in a woman until now.
And Ciara was the wrong one.
Shaking his head over his wildly racing thoughts, he went to his daughter, squatting to her level. “Did you have a nice nap, princess?”
Ciara glanced back over her shoulder smiling, trying to see only the father and not the man.
Carolina spit bubbles and offered him a Cheerio. He nibbled.
“How brave of you,” Ciara said, focusing on chopping vegetables and tossing them in a pan. “Accepting food from that grubby little hand.”
He kissed his daughter and straightened. “I’d do anything for her.”
“I know. You’re putting up with me for a nanny, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t have said it like that.”
“But you were thinking it.”
“Actually I was thinking that…”
She looked at him then, her brows drawn tight. “Go on, say it. We might as well be honest with each other from the start.”
He wasn’t going to mention that she was hiding damn near everything about herself from him already, and that was hardly honest. Instead he said, “I was thinking that you should put on more clothes.”
Her features tightened. “Don’t go there. Carolina and I were outside for a while and it’s hot.”
“Regardless, those,” he gestured to the short shorts, “leave little to the imagination.”
“Then force yourself to have less imagination, huh?” she said, pouring him a glass of tea, then placing it on the table before him.
“Kind of hard when I look at you and see you up against the wall, panting and wearing nothing but a strand of pearls.”
Ciara’s entire body clenched, her blood suddenly running very hot and fast.
She glanced his way briefly, flushing a little, and Bryce liked seeing it.
“That was a long time ago.” She returned her attention to the meal she was cooking.
“You said yourself you were the same woman.”
“I guess I lied.”
“What else are you lying about?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “What the hell does that mean?” Don’t get defensive, she warned herself. It will only add fuel to his suspicions.
“You’re not being honest about your past.”
She faced him and his gaze shifted to the knife in her hand. She put it down. “Want to open that door, Bryce? How about yours? Why did you leave the Secret Service?”
Old resentment reared. “I was tired of it.”
“Oh yeah, the travel, great hotels, short work hours. A real pleasure killer.”
“After I met my wife, yes.” The half lie stuck in his throat like glue. He’d still be in the service right now if he hadn’t met Diana.
Ciara felt unreasonably stung by that.
“And taking a bullet for someone who for the most part didn’t know I was alive, didn’t seem worth it after that.” Not worth leaving his unborn baby without a father, he thought. “What about your family?”
Good lord, he wasn’t getting the hint, was he? “I don’t have one, anymore.” In her line of work she’d had to cut all ties, yet for a second, the image of her brothers and her sister swept through her mind.
Bryce noticed the flash of pain in her eyes, the tightening of her features.
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Amy J. Fetzer
Once they'd shared an unforgettable encounter, but Ciara Caldwell had disappeared into the night, leaving Bryce Ashland with no clue to her identity.He still remembered his mystery woman's face, but now Bryce was a bachelor dad who didn't have time for any female - except his baby girl. Then Ciara unexpectedly landed on his doorstep as his daughter's new nanny, and the fortress around the brooding widower's hardened heart broke wide open.Ciara was the stand-in mother Bryce had dreamed of for baby Carolina - but Ciara's skill as caregiver wasn't all he wanted from her. He ached to share her bed again and again. But could he risk his heart - with everything to lose, but so much to gain?
Friend. Nanny. Stand-In Bride.
When a man needs the
touches only a woman can provide…
he turns to Wife, Inc.
Please Let The New Nanny Be Some Dowdy Grandma Type Who Can Really Help Us,
Bryce thought, opening the door.
Her back to him, at first all he saw was a nicely rounded behind tucked inside jeans, a white blouse and a brown leather vest. And chestnut-brown hair pulled up in a ponytail. Not exactly grandma, he thought.
Then the woman turned, and staring him in the face was the one woman, the only woman, who’d rocked his world and set it on fire. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m from Wife, Incorporated.” Her brows knitted slightly. “Weren’t you expecting me?”
“I was expecting someone, certainly not you.”
“Life is full of little surprises, huh?”
He wanted to call Wife, Incorporated, and ask for someone less…beautiful and exotic. But he needed help now. Besides, he could handle this. He wasn’t going to get involved with the nanny, no matter who she was….
Dear Reader,
Summer vacation is simply a state of mind…so create your dream getaway by reading six new love stories from Silhouette Desire!
Begin your romantic holiday with A Cowboy’s Pursuit by Anne McAllister. This MAN OF THE MONTH title is the author’s 50th book and part of her CODE OF THE WEST miniseries. Then learn how a Connelly bachelor mixes business with pleasure in And the Winner Gets…Married! by Metsy Hingle, the sixth installment of our exciting DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS continuity series.
An unlikely couple swaps insults and passion in Maureen Child’s The Marine & the Debutante—the latest of her popular BACHELOR BATTALION books. And a night of passion ignites old flames in The Bachelor Takes a Wife by Jackie Merritt, the final offering in TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE LAST BACHELOR continuity series.
In Single Father Seeks… by Amy J. Fetzer, a businessman and his baby captivate a CIA agent working under cover as their nanny. And in Linda Conrad’s The Cowboy’s Baby Surprise, an amnesiac FBI agent finds an undreamed-of happily-ever-after when he’s reunited with his former partner and lover.
Read these passionate, powerful and provocative new Silhouette Desire romances and enjoy a sensuous summer vacation!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Single Father Seeks…
Amy J. Fetzer
AMY J. FETZER
was born in New England and raised all over the world. She uses her own experiences in creating the characters and settings for her novels. Married more than twenty years to a United States Marine and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book.
Dedicated with love to my son, Zackary Cain,
For your cartoon obsessions and wanting to explore and invent and draw. For likely being the only teenager who does what he’s told when he’s told and doing it well. For having big dreams and a natural kindness that only angels possess. You, my son, have made me grow as a person and understand why a mother would gladly lay down her life for her child.
I love you.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Prologue
Hong Kong
He was Secret Service. She was CIA. He wasn’t hiding that fact.
She was.
But right now they weren’t hiding a thing from each other. A desire, no, a raging passion she’d never imagined existed inside her, was taking complete command. Ciara loved every second of it. And from the look on his face as she shoved open his trousers, so did he.
She drove her hand inside the dark fabric and he groaned and pushed her against the nearest wall, taking her mouth with an excitement so powerful, so hot, it would burn out of control in no time. She was counting on it. She had wanted him the minute she saw him. She wanted to be wild and escape and spend this one night with him. He was head-turning handsome with a hard body, and that sexy to-die-for look of a secret agent. Coal-black hair, Nordic blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw she wanted to kiss ’til dawn. Add to that a gentlemanly southern drawl, slightly disguised, and she was melting for him with the first word.
Behind them in the hotel room lay a trail of clothes—black, inconspicuous. Just what their jobs called for. But the situation now called for none. Naked. Ciara was nearly there. He wasn’t getting there soon enough.
He ground against her, letting her know he was ready for whatever she had in mind, and she pushed his trousers lower and cupped the tight curve of his buttocks, pulling him into her and sending the same message.
“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he said, his voice whiskey rough as his mouth rolled over her throat, her shoulder. He made quick work of her slip, adding it to the trail with her dress.
“No more than you are me.”
He unclasped her bra, pulling it off, tossing it aside, then filling his palms with her breasts.
Ciara gasped, then gasped again as his thumbs circled her nipples deeply. Oh mercy, his touch was all she needed to explode.
“The instant I saw you, I thought about this.”
She smiled. “Did you imagine this?” she asked, then slicked her tongue over his nipple. He flinched and made a helpless sound she already loved.
“Yeah, I did.”
His knife-creased black slacks hit the floor, and she bent to help them all the way off. And when she stood, she scrubbed her hands over his corded thighs, his trim bare hips. He was built like a wall of muscle, twisted, ropy, delicious to touch and she could tell that he liked watching her touch him. It made her burn for more. She wrapped her hand around his arousal and stroked him harder than he already was.
He couldn’t take it and suddenly he grabbed her against him, and growled, “My turn.” He knelt, peeling her panties down as he went and just the motion made her breathless. He laid wet, grinding kisses to every inch of skin he exposed, rolled her thigh-high stockings down like unrolling a piece of candy and he murmured, “I had a sneaky feeling you were wearing these.”
Just knowing she had, in a roomful of attachés and dignitaries and the former first lady, drove him wild. Now she was wearing only a strand of pearls.
“My, my, secret agent man. You were fantasizing a lot more than I thought,” she said, then howled when his mouth covered her soft center. He licked and played, probed and stroked until she was biting her lip to keep from screaming and bringing hotel security. For an instant, a sliver of time, she wondered about letting a complete stranger do this to her, then she didn’t care. He was all she’d imagined and more, and when he threw her leg over his shoulder and drove deeper, Ciara thought she’d come apart at the seams.
He chuckled darkly as she melted, her leg slipping limply off his shoulder as she sank down, sliding down the wall and straddling his thighs.
“There’s a bed a few feet away,” he said.
“Too far,” she gasped, rocking against his thickness.
He reached for his trousers, fumbled in the pocket, and she barely noticed because he never took his mouth from her. He bent her back over his arm, and then he was inside her, driving upward and clasping her against his wide chest.
“Oh, sweet heaven,” he groaned, cupping her bottom and giving her hips motion because he couldn’t stop it. Bryce pushed his fingers into her hair, loving the sounds she made, that she was as demanding as he, because he craved her. Craved. He’d never hungered for a woman from first sight, never had instant fantasies and instant arousal as he had with just looking at her. The moment he spotted her in that plain black dress, standing off to the side, he’d been preoccupied with her. Wondering what was under that simple dress, enjoying the shift of silk as she walked. Wondering what she looked like with her hair down instead of in that tight, reserved twist. He even liked the way she sipped champagne. And the way she looked at him, slow and possessive. As if she knew what he looked like naked, and she was in a hurry to see it firsthand. As if she knew one touch and they’d be unrestrained and reckless like this.
No one would have suspected. She had an innocence in her face, a cheerleader all-American scrubbed clean look, but a body like a movie star. All woman, ripe and curvy. Not skinny and flat. He loved it. And knew, even if she wasn’t rocking against him, that he held a real woman in his arms. A woman who enjoyed being a woman. And he wanted to do nothing but see pleasure on her beautiful face.
Bryce got down to the business of giving her exactly what she wanted and tasted every inch of her he could reach, stroked her, nipped and soothed and discovered the backs of her thighs were extremely sensitive. Then suddenly, they were over the top, thrashing against each other, rolling across the lush carpet. In the space of a few minutes they tried three positions, laughing as they contorted, then gasping when the friction was almost too much to bear, hurrying, taking only seconds for a thick kiss, and when he had her beneath him, vulnerable, he pushed into her with a measured deliberation that made her cry out and claw for him. She locked her legs around his hips and thrust and pulsed, touching him everywhere, and he held her off the floor, pushing and retreating, watching her pleasure ignite over her exquisite features. He would take that moment with him forever, he thought. Never had he been with a woman who was so confident in herself, in her sexuality, and it made him want her more. She gave as much as she took.
Then it came.
The heavy rush of heat and sensation, a tingling so intense it felt like needles on his spine. Like a throbbing wave about to crash. Suddenly she gripped his jaw and whispered, “Take me with you,” and he pushed, once, twice, and they reached for the stars together.
She cried out and bowed like a ribbon of womanly passion.
Time stopped. Soft moans and panting breaths filling the expensive hotel room. Moonlight spilled through the windows and coated them as his desire beat a throbbing pulse inside her, stretching as her feminine muscles flexed and pawed around him.
Bryce looked down at her, trembling with the power of their loving and she smiled up at him, pulling his weight onto her. She was barely sated, her foot sliding up his calf, his thigh, her hands stroking him, holding him as if she’d known him all her life and not just the past few hours.
With a hard sigh, he rolled to his side, tucking her close, yet before they could catch their breath, pagers went off, a cell phone rang.
He kissed her deeply. “Ignore them.”
“I can’t.” But she kissed him back anyway, then disentangled herself from him.
He rose up, reaching for her. “Where are you going?”
“I have to answer that.” She knew from experience that whoever was on the other end of that line would not give up. “Don’t want hotel security coming up and asking why we’re still making so much noise, right?”
He didn’t give a damn. He wanted her again.
But she was already going for the phone, gathering her clothes as she talked softly. She looked back at him, and he let his gaze roam her naked body, to the deep chestnut brown hair spilling down her back. Man, she was luscious. She smiled, returning the stare with equal intensity. He felt himself grow hard again. Then she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Bryce looked around at the debris of clothes, and started to reach for them, then gave up and fell onto the carpet.
He’d never done anything like that before. Never.
A total stranger. A siren in a little black dress and pearls.
Less than five minutes later she came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and pulling on the strappy little sandals that made him want to taste her ankles. She walked to him and stopped. He hadn’t moved. Good grief, he could still scarcely breathe.
“I have to go,” she said and her eyes were all business.
“Now?”
Her sudden smile was small and purely feminine. “Yeah. No strings remember?”
“And no names.”
She tipped her head to the side. “It’s better this way. You have an important job and I’d just be a complication.”
“Just who the hell are you?”
“An embassy secretary.”
“Liar.”
Her expression, one that had been so open with emotion minutes ago, slammed closed. Cold. Detached. And making him think that the woman standing before him now was a ghost of the passionate creature he’d held in his arms. He didn’t like it.
She tossed him his pager, and he caught it. “The first lady is calling you.”
He looked at the pager and wondered how she could tell from just a number. Or was that just an educated guess? Most Secret Service agents in a crowd didn’t look very secretive. When he looked up, she was lowering onto his lap, her arms wrapping his neck. Her mouth played over his with a heat that seared him again.
Now this was the woman he wanted to be with. “Can I interest you in another round, darlin’?” he said against her lips as his hands moved under the hem of her dress.
What a temptation, to discard her duties and have another romp with this hunk of man. But her partner needed her. “You could always interest me, secret agent man. But, I have to go.”
She stood, bent to kiss him once more, leaving her scent branded into his skin, and he lay there like an idiot and watched her walk out of his life. Forever. He knew it was forever. Excitement like that was once in a lifetime and neither of them, obviously had the time or the will to grab hold and keep it. Bryce had a feeling that the lady in black was just a dream and none of this was real.
One
Five years later
Beaufort, South Carolina
Ciara needed to hide. To go deep under.
In a spot not even the CIA would think to look.
The world was a big place. She could be anywhere, right?
And this small southern town was just the right ticket. It was historical and touristy. If need be, she could blend in. A CIA safe house, a cabin in the wilderness would have been better, but she’d have to go through agency contacts to get one and Ciara wasn’t trusting anyone just yet.
She’d already trusted the wrong man, she thought with a cynical twist to her lips and a glance in the rearview mirror to see if she were being followed. And that’s the reason she was dropping out of sight.
She blamed most of that on herself. With the exception of a one-night affair five years ago, she’d been burned enough by men whose job it was to lie and deceive and gain crucial information. When did she get so clueless about them? When had she refused to believe a thing a man said? Gee, she thought. Maybe when her partner started showing up late for rendezvous and had more cash than they earned in a year. And the worst of this was, that two years ago they’d been lovers. Though it was long over, she’d let old feelings interfere with her judgment, and didn’t see what was really going on. And it had taken her a while to admit it. He’d used her emotionally and professionally, and that she’d allowed it to happen was too humiliating to swallow. She’d never make that mistake again. Not with any man.
Her hand slipped off the wheel and touched the flight tote with the videotape stashed inside. It was backup, and she thought of the man she’d caught betraying his country on the film. Her partner, Mark Faraday was six feet of slender male, with sun-bleached hair that told her he had more time off than she did. Good-looking, but not too good-looking to draw attention, Mark was born with a silver tongue. Now the laid back surfer spy was a national security risk by giving classified material away. A mole. And a risk to her.
She made a sour face and for the tenth time, called herself a fool. Then she’d called in a favor from her old college sorority sister, Katherine Davenport. First, Kat had been shocked to hear from her after all these years, and second, reluctant to give her a job. But Ciara would go nuts if she were stashed somewhere with nothing to do, waiting for the truth to come out and drag Mark to a high-security prison. She had to keep occupied, and her mind off her troubles. Caring for a one-year-old girl was going to be easy, like reliving her teen years. She’d practically raised her little sister Cassie after their parents had been killed in a jet crash over Scotland. Well, she and her older brothers. It hadn’t taken much to convince Kat she was qualified. Childcare was how she’d earned extra money during college. Ciara knew baby care about as well as she knew when and where the satellites were aligned to pick up the best frequencies and take aerial photos.
Ciara had to assure Kat she wasn’t putting anyone in danger. And the first thing she would do when she had a chance was mail the videotape to a neutral party. Then a carefully worded note that would take the heat off of her.
She wasn’t paying much attention to the beautiful landscape until she hit a rut in the road. She braked, gawking at the gnarled live oaks draped in Spanish moss and the so-green-it-hurt-her-eyes lawn. The scent of jasmine came through the car’s air conditioner, enveloping her. Throwing the car into park, she quickly climbed out, checking the address, then stared at the house.
House?
Heck, this was Tara revisited. Two stories with wraparound porches on both levels, the white house was magnificent—spreading across an acre and surrounded by about ten more, if she had to guess.
Did only a widower and a baby live in all this?
She hoped he had a maid.
Grabbing her tote, she slung it onto her shoulder and walked up the steps, taking a deep breath of the fragrances of jasmine and wisteria. An odd peace came with it, and the tension she’d carried for days flowed out of her muscles.
This wasn’t just isolation and safety, this was a dream.
Bryce felt warm slimy peaches slide off his face and plop on his chest. “Well,” he said tiredly, staring blankly at his eleven-month-old daughter. “I see we’re going to have to work on your table etiquette.”
She shrieked, twisting her head to the side when he offered her more. Bryce tossed the spoon aside and sagged into the chair, giving up this battle.
Carolina proceeded to play with the mess on the high chair tray.
Bryce looked around at the results of feeding his daughter and knew his late wife was laughing. Diana would say this was justice for not loving her like she needed. God knows he had tried. He’d done everything he could to make the marriage work. A marriage he hadn’t wanted. She’d loved him, but in the end, he knew she’d hated him.
Guilt swam through Bryce. He and Diana had been lovers briefly when he’d come home from the Secret Service for a visit. Those two nights produced the little girl in the high chair. And when Carolina had arrived, Diana’s life ended. He loved his baby more than his life, and he knew that marrying Diana because she was pregnant was the right thing to do then, but he hadn’t mourned her.
The guilt intensified and he pushed his fingers into his hair and pushed the thoughts out of his mind.
He swore he was never going to get involved with a woman again.
Heck, he was terrified of letting this tiny female down. Of ruining her life like he had her mother’s. He couldn’t trust himself not to destroy another woman’s life. Not to mention the damage it did to his soul.
His daughter flung the mushy beige food, a glob landing on his shirt. He didn’t bother to wipe it and thought of his former colleagues in the Secret Service seeing him now. A far cry from the man who lived dangerously, moment to moment protecting the first family. He was now Mr. Mom and a complete failure at it, he thought. There should be a school or something for dads who had to be moms, too.
Four days without a nanny and he was seeing exactly how useless he was at being a reliable father. He didn’t think he’d miss the skills of a woman more than he did right now. His sister had helped him a few times after Diana’s death, but she had her own family. His parents were retired, leaving him the family business and this monstrous house while they traveled the world. It was only right, but the shrimping business was taking off like a runaway train and he hadn’t been able to operate it from this house since before his daughter was born.
He looked at his baby. He’d had a nanny, but she’d refused to be a live-in. Carolina needed consistency, someone there for her when he couldn’t be. Someone who would be tender and loving. And almost a mother. What his baby didn’t need was a parade of strangers marching through her life now. She was so young and had a tendency to scream bloody murder when a stranger got close. Probably because all she ever saw was him and the nanny. The maid, well she was from a service, and all business. And rarely the same one each time.
The last nanny said Carolina was difficult. And when he’d found the woman lounging around, watching soap operas while his daughter cried in a playpen, Bryce had fired her. The next three nannies hadn’t been any better.
Neglecting his child was not an option, nor was putting her in a day-care center where she’d get sick and there were too many children. He wanted his daughter to have attention while he was at work. Lord, he didn’t think finding child care would be so difficult. Luckily, someone had recommended Wife Incorporated to him. He’d spoken with the owner, Katherine Davenport, and though she sounded nice, what mattered was that she’d come to his rescue. She was sending a nanny out today. Any minute.
Bryce prayed it was someone with a tender heart.
And he hoped she arrived soon.
Carolina shrieked, her lip curling down, and he left his chair to walk over to a cookie jar. He gave her one cookie. Instantly she quieted.
He would deal with the chocolate mess later.
Bribery, he thought as he dropped back into the chair, was acceptable in grave situations.
Bryce started to clean up the mess, bending down on his hands and knees to get the food spilled on the floor. He chased a piece of cereal and when Carolina burst into tears, he flinched and bumped his head on the table. He stood, staring down at her as she reared back in that squirm he’d come to know meant she was done and wanted down now. Then she started kicking and crying. Bryce rushed to finish cleaning up the mess, then handed his daughter a carrot to grind against her cutting teeth.
“Five minutes, princess,” he pleaded. “I just need five minutes.”
She threw the carrot and cried harder.
Then the doorbell rang.
Taking Carolina out of the high chair, Bryce struggled to keep a safe hold on her when she squirmed, refusing to be still. Since she was already climbing out of her crib and crawling away with amazing speed, he didn’t dare put her on the floor yet. Besides, he could tell how clean it wasn’t anyway.
“We have company, sweetie.” Carolina looked up at him, chocolate cookie smeared over her face and clothes. She worked the mush in her hand as if it would hurry it into her mouth. Then she stilled and offered him a bite, missing his mouth and jamming the soggy cookie somewhere near his ear.
“Well,” he said as he walked toward the door. “Guess it’s good that she sees us at our worst, huh?”
His hand on the door, Bryce tipped his head back. Please Lord, let it be some dowdy grandma type who can really help us.
He opened the door.
Her back to him, at first all he saw was a nicely rounded behind tucked inside jeans, a white blouse and a brown leather vest. And chestnut-brown hair pulled up in a ponytail.
Not exactly grandma, he thought.
The woman turned and her features slackened.
Bryce thought his knees would fold beneath him any second.
Staring him in the face was the one woman, the only woman, who’d rocked his world and set it on fire.
“I can’t believe this,” he said more to himself.
“Well, hey there, secret agent man,” she replied softly and the words held the echo of the one and only time they’d been together.
Bryce’s body seized with the memory. Naked and wild. The feel and taste of her rocketing through his mind. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m from Wife Incorporated.” Her brows knitted slightly. “Weren’t you expecting me?”
“I was expecting someone, certainly not you.”
“Life is full of little surprises, huh?”
Surprise, hell. This was a “knock him into next week” shock, he thought, holding her gaze and seeing much more in her cognac-brown eyes, the way they flared when he was inside her, the sly look she got when she knew she was giving him pleasure.
And Ciara saw it, in his expression, the memory of that one night. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her cool and not remember the only time she’d seen this man…when he had her up against a hotel wall and was devouring her. Greedy and primal. The instant their eyes met, her body had jumped to life. Now she felt her breathing increase, heat twisting through her. He was the only man who could do that to her. With just a look of those ice-blue eyes.
And now she was suppose to live in his house?
Her gaze swept him. He looked ragged, and far from the man she saw last. Baby food clung to his hair and T-shirt, and there was a dark brown streak hastily wiped off his cheek near his ear. His jeans were splattered with assorted bits of soggy cereal and spilled coffee. It was almost comical, except in his arms a dark haired infant was twisting like a slippery fish trying to get back in the water, and crying to be let down.
Ciara instantly dropped her bag and stepped closer. “Hey,” she said softly, tugging on the baby’s dress, which was in as bad a shape as her father’s shirt and slacks. “Hey there.”
The baby came upright sharply and stared at her with wide blue eyes. “Hello there, sweetie,” she said, her gaze on the child as she asked, “Are you going to introduce me, Mr. Bryce Ashland?”
Bryce blinked and followed her gaze to Carolina, who was still crying, but looking curious. His gaze shot back to her. “Maybe when I know your name.”
Smiling, she held out her hand. “Ciara. Ciara Stuart.”
Bryce grasped her hand and the pulse of her blood hummed through him. Oh God, he thought. It hasn’t changed one bit. One touch and his entire being jumped to life, his nerves jingling and leaving his heart thumping like a sledgehammer in his chest. Everything he remembered about her came back tenfold and Bryce realized in that moment that this woman had done more than leave an impression.
She’d branded him.
It was so strong that Hong Kong seemed like days ago, not five years.
Her memory was just as clear, and Ciara’s heart skipped into high gear, the warmth of his fingers around hers reminding her of how seductive they could be. How they felt on her skin, slipping inside her body. Suddenly she ached with a longing so deep she had trouble not groaning aloud. Just looking at him made her feel alive and hot. Her secret agent man. Her fantasy man. Oh, this was too weird. A shock, yes, a danger, maybe. How was she going to be around this man? Especially when all she could think of was that seductive night and that in those few short hours he’d made feel more alive and female and wicked than in her entire life. Or that the memory of him had kept her company when she was isolated and completely friendless.
Her fingers moved in his and his grip tightened warmly. For a moment she thought he’d lace his fingers with hers and pull her toward him like he’d done in the elevator that night. As if he understood, he gave her a sexy smile that made her toes curl, then pulled free.
Bryce inclined his head. “This is my daughter, Carolina.”
Ciara dragged her attention back to the baby and noticed the brown goo all over her. “Chocolate?” Her eyes went wide. “For a baby? Are you nuts? Oh, you do need help.” She lightly clapped her hands, then held them out to the child.
Carolina launched into her arms. The crying instantly stopped.
Ciara patted the baby’s back, and Bryce watched in complete amazement as his daughter nuzzled her dirty face against Ciara’s chest.
Bryce blinked. “It’s got to be a woman thing.”
“Not really, it’s a baby thing. I’m just not fighting with her.” She grinned at him, a little devilish and his heart choked. “Besides, she’s warm, messy, sticky and I can’t believe you gave her sugar.” She plucked the remains of the cookie from the baby and dropped it into his hand.
Carolina didn’t make a fuss. Then Ciara stepped inside the house, brushing past him. “Which way to the kitchen?” she said as she walked.
“Your next right.” He stood there for a moment, then grabbed her bag and her suitcases off the porch and brought them inside. Closing the door, he strode into the kitchen, tossing the cookie in the trash.
She had Carolina on the counter and was gently washing her face and hands, talking softly, smiling. “Well, darling, you need a bath and some fresh clothes.” She glanced at Bryce, then her gaze swept meaningfully to the mess on the kitchen table. “How much of that did she really eat?”
“Not much. She more or less made missiles of it all.”
Ciara nodded. “Does she use a bottle or a cup?”
“As of recently, one of these,” he said, holding up a tippy cup that rolled when he set it back down.
“Is she on a schedule?”
“A what?”
Lifting the child in her arms, she looked at him. He was washing his hands, and not more than two feet away from her. It set her nerves tingling again.
“A schedule. Nap time, bedtime, bath time.”
“No.”
“So she’s been ruling the roost.”
His shoulder sagged a little. “Pretty much.” Why did that embarrass him? Drying his hands on a towel, he eyed her. “You aren’t going to regiment Carolina into a routine, are you?”
“No, but I’ve learned from the best that setting times for meals and naps helps babies as much as it does the parents.” She cocked her head. “How do you think moms get anything done?”
“It’s a talent that has escaped me, obviously.” He cleared his throat and asked, “Are you a mother?”
“No, and never married.”
He nodded. “So how did you get experience with babies?”
“I have all the requirements you wanted, but I raised my younger sister and I earned money in college by being a nanny. Mostly on the weekends, though.”
“Made for dull college days.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She looked at the baby in her arms, realizing that it had been a while since she’d cared for a child this young. Years. Since she’d joined the agency. Yet the memories of her college years swept through her like a warm, gentle breeze. Those other people’s children had been her saviors when she’d felt lonely and homesick. And though she never considered herself mom material, especially after years with the CIA, this child needed her. It was obvious with the chaos in this house. But could she be objective, walk away when everything in her career was back to normal?
“Ms. Stuart?”
Bryce’s tone warned her that he’d called her more than once and she blamed her inattention on the alias last name she’d given him. She met his gaze and smiled. “Call me Ciara. I think it’s a bit more appropriate.”
His features tightened, as if fighting a smile.
“She looks just like you,” Ciara said and somehow that pleased him.
He looked at his daughter and his entire body softened. He moved closer, touching Carolina’s hair. “You think so?”
“Yeah.”
He met her gaze and their close proximity made his thoughts skip and stall on her, made him imagine what she looked like naked. What she felt like in his arms. This was going to be tough if he couldn’t even look at her without remembering that night. He wanted to call Wife Incorporated and ask for someone less…beautiful and exotic. But he needed help now. Besides, he could handle this, he thought. He wasn’t going to get involved with the nanny, no matter who she was. However, just seeing his baby cuddled in her arms did something to him.
“So Mr. Ashland, are we going to stand in this tornado of a room all day or are you going to show me this house and tell me what I’ll be doing?”
Bryce watched her stroke Carolina’s arm, then press her lips to the top of his daughter’s head. As if she’d known his child from the day she was born. But household duties were not what he was thinking about right now. He couldn’t take his eyes off Ciara. She hadn’t changed. She was still a classic beauty, and though she looked a little thinner than before, she was still curved and womanly. The thought of putting his hands on her bare skin again made him hard, and he instantly knew he could get into real trouble with her around. He reminded himself she was his employee and old fantasies were just that. Old and buried. Well, he thought with a long look at her, not quite buried.
Before his imagination took off to parts unknown, he cleared his throat and gestured to the room. “The kitchen obviously,” he tossed a thumb back over his shoulder. “The garage, laundry room and back door are that way. There’s an old servants staircase there, too.”
Servant. That’s what she was to him. Even if he was looking at her like they’d made love last night instead of five years ago. And despite that and the fantasies floating through her mind when she looked at him, she had to keep that in mind, remember why she was here and that she’d be leaving soon. It wouldn’t take the agency long to nab Mark.
Needing a distraction, Ciara looked around the huge peach, green and white kitchen. It was decorated like something out of a magazine, with all the latest appliances and an island counter with a sink. A chef’s dream. She couldn’t wait to see the rest of this place.
“Can you cook?”
“Sure.” She frowned a bit. “With Wife Incorporated, it’s a requirement. Why would you ask?”
“Home cooking is the last thing I’d expect from you,” he said with a sly glance.
Ciara’s heart skipped an entire beat at the sound of his voice and she looked him over. “Being a dad is the last I’d have expected of you.”
He gave her a velvety look. “No expectations, remember?”
She smirked. How could she not remember?
Bryce walked ahead and with the baby in her arms, Ciara followed him into the living room. “Front parlor,” he said, then pointed out the dining room beyond before walking into the main hall. The foyer was wide, a staircase on the right sweeping to the second floor. He pointed to it. “Bedrooms and baths upstairs, den and library there,” he said, gesturing to the left as he walked down the hall.
Carolina made noises, adding her own input.
Now that she’d had the chance to really look, Ciara was floored. The carved ceiling panels and wainscoting were works of art. Paintings hung on the walls and the hall was wide enough to fit a settee. When she’d driven up the long oak tree-lined driveway and had first seen the two-story house with double porches, she wondered how she was supposed to take care of this place when it went on forever. White with green plantation shutters, it spoke of old charm and grace, and she admitted it gave her a strange sense of home.
Odd, when she hadn’t had a real home since joining the CIA.
He led her back through the kitchen, then into a large Carolina room banked with windows and filled with casual furniture, the TV, a stereo. He crossed to a pair of French doors and threw them open, letting her step out onto the back deck first.
And as she passed he whispered softly, “Welcome, Ciara, to River Bend.”
Two
Ciara stilled for a second. His tone made it seem as if he’d waited a lifetime to say that. And he meant it. She didn’t dare look back over her shoulder at him. She could already feel the heat of his muscled body behind her like the sweet warmth of the sun. The urge to stop and sink back into him was nearly overpowering.
She mentally shook herself. Fantasy ends here, she thought. She hated that just his presence gave her ideas she’d no business having. She stepped farther onto the back deck and said, “Thank you. So, you named your house?”
He eyed her. “I take it you’re not from the south.”
Finally, she looked at him. “Well, I could fake a southern accent, if you want.” She couldn’t tell him that yes, she was from the south, born and raised only a couple hundred miles away from here, but she’d taken great pains to lose her southern accent. In the CIA, it didn’t help to have her speech marked so clearly.
They walked farther out onto the deck.
Ciara scanned the landscape and lost her breath. “My God, this is heaven.”
Though they were a good hundred yards from the water, the view was incredible—the river, houses on the other side, the sea toward the inlet. There was an in-ground pool and beyond it a gazebo big enough to house a table and chairs and chaise lounges. Live oaks and palm trees shaded the yard here and there, and even as the sun began its descent, she could see an intricate flower garden off to the left, a wicker sofa and table tucked under the spreading branches dripping with Spanish moss. That same sense of peace swept her again and her gaze landed on a wood swing hanging from a tree limb, and then a babbling fountain resting under the shade trees. Ahead of her, a dock stretched for half the length of a football field over the marsh to the water, a screened porch lay a few yards before the end of the pier. There were two boats anchored at the end, a dinged-up, well-used johnboat and a ritzy gleaming cabin cruiser. The contrast spoke volumes about Bryce.
“All this from the Secret Service?” she said softly.
He chuckled to himself. “Lord no. I barely made the rent working for the government. This house has been in my family for generations. It was my parents’ home.”
“They’re retired?”
“Yes, they live in Florida when they aren’t on a jet heading somewhere else.”
She looked at the baby, rocking her from side to side and noticing her little eyelids drooping. “A lot of house for just the two of you, huh sweetheart?” When she looked at Bryce, he was staring at her oddly. Her brows knit, her look questioning.
Bryce couldn’t say why he was so touched by the gesture. His baby in her arms, the gentle way Ciara touched Carolina. He never expected anything so tender from a woman like her. And he reminded himself that all he knew about her was what it was like to make love to her, to be completely and utterly driven mad by her touch.
Stop looking at me like that, she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to open that can of worms.
“It’s breathtaking,” she said into the silence. “Did you grow up here?”
“Yes. Me and my sister Hope. She lives closer to town.” Bryce looked off at the marsh. “There are gators in there occasionally. If you go near, be careful.”
“I understand.” She kept her gaze on the landscape as they strolled around the pool deck. “The décor is lovely, Bryce. Who did it? Your wife?”
He looked at her sharply. “No, my mother. I didn’t live here with Diana.”
She propped Carolina on her hip and said, “Diana, huh?”
The mention of his wife’s name set him suddenly on edge. “I wasn’t married to her when you and I met.”
Her brows shot up. “I didn’t think you were.” A pause and then, “So what happened to her?”
A surge of guilt pounded through Bryce at the thought of his late wife, and what he’d done to her life. He didn’t want to talk about Diana. Especially not with Ciara. Somehow, if he did, it felt as if he were hurting Diana more than he already had.
At his hesitation she added, “If it’s too painful and you’d rather not…”
“Yes, it is painful, but—” He gave Ciara the minimum. “She died when Carolina was born. She had gestational diabetes. The pregnancy was very difficult. Toxemia and the diabetes caused her death.”
Ciara heard the anger building in his voice. And the torment in his features. He must have loved his wife deeply, she thought. To lose his wife and then be forced to care for a newborn alone, how hard it must have been for him.
In the ensuing silence, she watched him stare out over the marsh, his handsome features twisted with anger and the echo of old pain.
“And while we are on the subject, let’s get one thing straight right now,” he said, grinding the words past clenched teeth. He faced her, his hands on his hips, his entire stance as belligerent as a man about to do battle. Something had changed in him in those few seconds, with those few words. Gone was the sexy man she knew, the man needing help with his child, and before her stood a guardian. Guarding what, she didn’t know.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not looking for a replacement.”
She blinked. “I’m not looking to be one.” She had a career to return to, a job that meant changing the world.
“Carolina is my concern. She needs someone who is here when I’m not. She needs…mothering.”
Oh lord, Ciara thought. Baby-sitting yes, but mothering? After years with the CIA, she was the farthest thing from a mother type. Was she out of her league with this job? Too late to back out now, she thought, remembering how she’d badgered Katherine into giving her this position. Take it like an undercover assignment, she thought, a masquerade. “I can handle it.”
He eyed her. “I know you’re bonded and trained, but that has little to do with caring for my daughter.”
“I should say so.” Did he think she was completely incapable?
Silence. Hard and biting as they stared.
She squared off with him, wondering why he was suddenly so defensive. “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind, Bryce? Get it off your chest right now.”
“I don’t trust you.” There was just too much mystery surrounding her. The fact that she was back in his life, in this position, was enough to make him cautious.
“You did enough that night.” Instantly she hated herself for bringing up their past.
“That was five years ago. I was single without a care except who was looking funny at the former first lady. And that night was just about us. Now it’s about Carolina.” He shook his head. “My life is completely different. I’m not the same man.”
“Well, here’s a news flash, Ashland. I haven’t changed. I’m not the mother type. I’ll do my level best for Carolina while I’m here, but don’t expect what I can’t give.”
Bryce recognized her look. Her features shuttered so quickly he felt it like a cold breeze. It was the same look she’d given him in the hotel room when she’d come out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to leave. All traces of the passion they’d shared were erased.
That she could hold his baby in her arms and could call on this emotionless look, added to his suspicions. “What were you doing in Hong Kong?”
“Embassy work.” It wasn’t a lie, she thought, just not the whole truth. “Now can I have a say?”
He nodded.
“What happened between us was a one-time thing. One time. This is a coincidence, a one in a million chance. Deal with it. I need the job, and you and Carolina need me. Let’s just leave it at that, okay, boss?”
“My daughter needs you, not me.”
“Thanks for clarifying that,” she said. “I was having visions of weddings and receptions already.”
Her delivery was cold and sarcastic. Bryce didn’t like it.
“And while we’re drawing battle lines, if I’d wanted more after Hong Kong, I would have looked you up again,” she said. “Really great sex doesn’t mean I want a lifetime.”
His features yanked taut.
“Have I made myself clear?”
He nodded. “Fine. We understand each other.”
“Not by a long shot, Ashland.”
Bryce’s lips tightened.
She arched a brow. Let him stew, she thought. She wouldn’t be revealing anything about herself or her past, and that one night with him had nothing to do with the present. Except to remind her that while his life had changed and grown, hers hadn’t. All that was different was the one mistake she’d made. Trusting the wrong man. The instant she thought of her partner and the magnitude of his betrayal, Ciara knew she couldn’t trust her feelings. About anything. She’d botched it up badly by not seeing what was there, and with Bryce, she had to remember the price of loving—no, not love, the price of getting involved with someone had only rewarded Ciara with heartache. Besides she had to lie to him, she had to keep her real life secret. Involving him in any part of her career or the knowledge of it could bring harm to him or this sweet baby. She would never allow that to happen. She’d vanish first. Her job was to protect her country’s interests—and its people were under that umbrella.
Even if it was raining where she stood.
“I’ll put your bags in your room,” Bryce said, effectively ending this standoff, “and your car in the garage.”
She fished in the pocket of her jeans and tossed him the keys, glad she’d cleared the rental car of anything that bore her real name. “I’ll be with your daughter.” She turned sharply and headed back into the house.
“Where are you going?”
“The sun is too hot for her without a bonnet and sunblock, and she’s tired.”
Bryce silently approved and followed, then frowned at her back as she walked briskly through the house toward the foyer. Though she held his daughter gently, allowing Carolina to grab onto her ponytail, he could feel the remoteness about Ciara. It was as if she had an invisible wall around her now.
He didn’t blame her, really. And it was better for him all around. But for his daughter? Though her actions toward his baby so far were tender, Bryce wondered if she’d deny Carolina her affections because of him.
It was another reason not to trust her.
He’d have to keep an eye on her for the next few days.
And nights?
Damn.
The thought of this woman sleeping down the hall from him made his body jump and rock to life.
“I have work to do,” he said from behind her. “My home office is the library.”
“Fine. Have at it,” she replied as she mounted the staircase. “Though you might want to change.”
Bryce glanced down at his clothes and silently groaned at the food splattered over him. He lifted his gaze to Ciara and his daughter stared at him over Ciara’s shoulder. Bryce waved to his baby.
Carolina bounced up and down in Ciara’s arms, kicking her feet, her cherub face lit up with happiness, as if to say, “See daddy, this is what it’s like to have a mom.”
Bryce’s heart broke then and there.
And he decided he’d put up with just about anything to see his daughter smile like that. But how would he survive with that luscious, mysterious woman right under his nose? And regardless of what he’d said, deep inside, in a place that was lonely and hungry for female company, he wanted to experience another mindless night of desire in Ciara’s arms.
Ciara bathed Carolina, and dried her off before warming baby lotion in her hands and rubbing it in slow circular motions over the sleepy infant. The child was nearly asleep on the changing table and Ciara made quick work of putting on a diaper and fresh clothes.
The infant fussed and rubbed her eyes, pulling at her hair as Ciara sat in the padded rocker, humming softly, the baby nuzzled on her chest. Ciara inhaled the sweet scents, rubbing up and down Carolina’s spine, her own eyelids heavy with a comfort she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She thought and wondered then about her brothers and their children. She hadn’t seen her nephews in years and if her calculations were right, they were in school by now. Then her thoughts drifted to her sister Cassie, who’d finished college summa cum laude and was off somewhere doing something that had nothing to do with her financial degree. Ciara missed them all terribly. She didn’t usually, because she simply chose not to think about them. It had become increasingly easy to block out her past and her family, she thought with regret. She’d never had time to sit back and think of them, her mind had always been focused on her assignment. The cold objectivity was a part of her after all these years. Her lips twisted with self-disgust. That hadn’t stopped her from letting old feelings darn near ruin her career, she thought, and her anger at Mark Faraday settled like a simmering kettle in her chest. She left it there, refusing to waste more energy on him.
Her thoughts drifted immediately to Bryce.
She cocked a look at the sleeping baby in her arms, then stood and carried Carolina to her crib. Laying her down, she tried to remember if at this age they slept on their stomach or back, then laid Carolina on her tummy. Just before she did, Carolina opened her eyes, staring at her so trustingly, and Ciara thought suddenly that nothing she did in her life, nothing for her country, for the CIA, was more important than what she was doing right now. For this child. She stroked her back and the baby’s eyes drifted closed.
How much tenderness had this little girl missed because she didn’t have a mother? Bryce had to be both mother and father and Ciara remembered the different relationships she’d had with her parents. Her mom had been her role model, and made Ciara feel special, as if they shared a secret that men took years to understand. Ciara’s mother had given her pretty things and taught her to take pride in her appearance for herself, not for anyone who might happen to notice. Ciara tried to pass that to Cassie. Yet her dad had been the one who let her hang with her brothers, who won the argument with her mother when she wanted to play soccer. Dad had kept telling her there was nothing she couldn’t do. He’d pushed her to excel, to learn more than one language and make the grade to join the CIA.
Lord she missed them. But they were dead now, killed in a jet crash over Scotland. She hadn’t been able to attend their funeral because she was stuck somewhere in Asia, hiding in a warehouse surveying gunrunners. And somehow, over the years, she’d lost the rest of her family, too. It was a hard fact to swallow, but Ciara admitted silently that though her parents were taken from her, she’d allowed her brothers and sister to fade from her life. Because of her career. Shame rippled through her along with a surprisingly sharp stab of homesickness.
The baby cooed in her sleep, wiggling under the thin blanket, and something hard wrenched in Ciara’s chest. For some reason, she couldn’t leave the baby just yet. Not alone. She was so little.
And for the first time in a long time, someone truly innocent, needed her.
Bryce stood in the doorway, studying Ciara. He tried not to notice how beautiful she looked there bent over his baby’s crib, rubbing Carolina’s back, watching her sleep. Seeing her there struck a chord in him and twisted his insides. She looked so at ease and though Carolina had known the touch of Bryce’s mother and sister, it seemed that a perfect stranger was more soothing than either of them. Instantly he thought of Diana.
Would she approve?
Not if she knew he and Ciara had spent a night together. He’d never told anyone about that night, keeping it private, for himself alone. Telling Diana would have been mean and unnecessary. And caused more problems because she’d been possessive from the start, wanting him to quit the Secret Service for her and their unborn child. Married only a month, and seeing no way around it and feeling equally responsible, he had. Though he resented it at the time, and constantly being around her likely made things worse between them, he didn’t resent leaving the service anymore. Not since his daughter had filled his life and his heart.
“She’s so beautiful,” Ciara said into the silence, startling him, and Bryce realized she’d known he was there all this time.
“Thank you.” He watched her give the blankets a last tuck, then straighten and walk toward him. The tender look she gave his daughter still on her features.
He stared, absorbing it.
“How long have you been caring for her alone?”
“Other than when she was first born, a week.”
“How do you get your work done?” she asked, admiration coloring her voice.
“I don’t. I’m way behind. That’s why I hired Wife Incorporated.”
Ciara shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans when she really wanted to touch him, run her hands over his taut muscled chest. “And here you get me.”
Bryce saw the flicker of reservation in her eyes and wondered over it when she seemed so confident earlier. Trusting her seemed further away than he first thought. “Carolina seems to like you.”
Ciara gazed up at him, her body sensing his, that current shooting up from her heels. “She’s great.”
Bryce experienced the same heady heat that drew him to Ciara that night in Hong Kong. She was inches from him, in the doorway and knowing he shouldn’t, he lifted his hand to her face. Before he touched her, she stepped back, her tender expression vanished, replaced with an indifferent mask he already recognized.
His brow furrowed.
Her eyes were glacial, hard. Then she turned and walked down the hall.
Leaning on the door frame, Bryce watched her leave, thinking that no matter what they felt when they were near each other, there was a part of Ciara that was isolated, a woman hidden behind a wall. She might be gentle and tender with his daughter, but she wasn’t letting down her guard.
Bryce went back to his office and remained there most of the day. With music playing in his office, he didn’t hear any noise in the house and managed to catch up on the backlog of work. Yet when he glanced at his watch and realized how much time had passed and that he hadn’t heard his daughter or Ciara in a while, he shot out of the chair and rushed to the door.
How could he be so careless? He knew nothing about this woman. And he’d left her and his baby alone together for hours.
Panicked, he stopped short in the hall, glancing left and right. “Ciara?” Thoughts of accidents filled his tired mind.
“Yes,” she called from somewhere in the house. “In here.”
Only a little relieved, he demanded, “Where the hell is here?”
“Well, duh, in the kitchen.”
He nearly ran down the hall, his heart pounding and when he entered the room he froze. Carolina was tucked in her high chair, chasing cereal around her tray and stuffing as much as she could in her mouth, and Ciara was at the stove. For a second he just stared.
No one on this planet had a right to look that sexy in an apron.
And she’d changed into a tank top and cutoffs that had seen way better days, and were short as hell. They showed off every curve and for a moment, he let his gaze roam over her from head to bare toes. She moved efficiently, sautéing vegetables, checking something in the oven, then punching the timer on the microwave. Plus, glancing over at his daughter while she worked. It was as if she didn’t know he was in the room now. And here he was, like a stag scenting a doe. The fact made him see how long it had been since he’d had a woman. A little over a year. He’d been married in name only, since he and Diana had wed when she was two months pregnant and they’d stopped sleeping together when her pregnancy became difficult, and that happened at the end of her first trimester.
Good grief, it had been a long time.
But then, he hadn’t been interested in a woman until now.
And Ciara was the wrong one.
Shaking his head over his wildly racing thoughts, he went to his daughter, squatting to her level. “Did you have a nice nap, princess?”
Ciara glanced back over her shoulder smiling, trying to see only the father and not the man.
Carolina spit bubbles and offered him a Cheerio. He nibbled.
“How brave of you,” Ciara said, focusing on chopping vegetables and tossing them in a pan. “Accepting food from that grubby little hand.”
He kissed his daughter and straightened. “I’d do anything for her.”
“I know. You’re putting up with me for a nanny, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t have said it like that.”
“But you were thinking it.”
“Actually I was thinking that…”
She looked at him then, her brows drawn tight. “Go on, say it. We might as well be honest with each other from the start.”
He wasn’t going to mention that she was hiding damn near everything about herself from him already, and that was hardly honest. Instead he said, “I was thinking that you should put on more clothes.”
Her features tightened. “Don’t go there. Carolina and I were outside for a while and it’s hot.”
“Regardless, those,” he gestured to the short shorts, “leave little to the imagination.”
“Then force yourself to have less imagination, huh?” she said, pouring him a glass of tea, then placing it on the table before him.
“Kind of hard when I look at you and see you up against the wall, panting and wearing nothing but a strand of pearls.”
Ciara’s entire body clenched, her blood suddenly running very hot and fast.
She glanced his way briefly, flushing a little, and Bryce liked seeing it.
“That was a long time ago.” She returned her attention to the meal she was cooking.
“You said yourself you were the same woman.”
“I guess I lied.”
“What else are you lying about?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “What the hell does that mean?” Don’t get defensive, she warned herself. It will only add fuel to his suspicions.
“You’re not being honest about your past.”
She faced him and his gaze shifted to the knife in her hand. She put it down. “Want to open that door, Bryce? How about yours? Why did you leave the Secret Service?”
Old resentment reared. “I was tired of it.”
“Oh yeah, the travel, great hotels, short work hours. A real pleasure killer.”
“After I met my wife, yes.” The half lie stuck in his throat like glue. He’d still be in the service right now if he hadn’t met Diana.
Ciara felt unreasonably stung by that.
“And taking a bullet for someone who for the most part didn’t know I was alive, didn’t seem worth it after that.” Not worth leaving his unborn baby without a father, he thought. “What about your family?”
Good lord, he wasn’t getting the hint, was he? “I don’t have one, anymore.” In her line of work she’d had to cut all ties, yet for a second, the image of her brothers and her sister swept through her mind.
Bryce noticed the flash of pain in her eyes, the tightening of her features.
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Amy Fetzer
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Once they′d shared an unforgettable encounter, but Ciara Caldwell had disappeared into the night, leaving Bryce Ashland with no clue to her identity.He still remembered his mystery woman′s face, but now Bryce was a bachelor dad who didn′t have time for any female – except his baby girl. Then Ciara unexpectedly landed on his doorstep as his daughter′s new nanny, and the fortress around the brooding widower′s hardened heart broke wide open.Ciara was the stand-in mother Bryce had dreamed of for baby Carolina – but Ciara′s skill as caregiver wasn′t all he wanted from her. He ached to share her bed again and again. But could he risk his heart – with everything to lose, but so much to gain?