by J. M. Madden
“I think I agree with Ms. Swan,” the detective said gruffly. “If you can find some enjoyment in your job, why not?”
Fury surged through Carolina. “Now, listen here, Mr. Blackheart. If you’re inferring I should set you up with one of my contractors for a booty call, you haven’t been listening to me very well. We don’t do booty calls! No matter how much you want to believe I’m running some kind of high-priced call girl outfit, we don’t…”
He held up a hand, shaking his head. “I’m not inferring anything of the type. Although,” he said, scowling, “your anger will shade anything I ask you now.”
Carolina blinked at him, confused. “What?”
He parked his hands on his hips. “I was going to ask you out to dinner, but not now. Nothing I say will change that.”
She blinked, trying to catch up. Detective Blackheart took a step backward. “I’ll talk to you another day,” he murmured. “Goodbye, Carolina,” he said, before he left the office.
For a moment she just stood there, her mouth hanging open. She glanced around for Mel but didn’t see her. Had that whole situation actually just happened?
Detective Blackheart had been harassing her for the past several months, but this incident felt different. He hadn’t been in for several weeks, so she’d thought that he had moved on to other things. Which had disappointed her a little. The fine detective wasn’t normally the type that attracted her, but something about him intrigued her.
Maybe she was just hard up. Sighing, she turned back to her office, because someone had to keep the ship moving.
3
Jess looked up at the house in front of her. It was… smaller than what she was used to. A little more pedestrian. Good-sized for the suburban area they were in, she supposed. The house was a split-level with a stone facade, and it fit in perfectly with the rest of the houses along the street. There was nothing, really, to distinguish it. Well, the tail end of the red sports car she could see in the open garage was a little intriguing.
Glancing at the number on the box, she made sure she was in the right place. Yup, appeared to be. There was a shiny gray truck in the driveway as well, but the front yard was bare. If there was a child living here, there was certainly no sign of it.
She walked up the sidewalk to the front door and pressed the doorbell. There was a thump from inside the house, then the sound of running feet. Jess smiled at the sound of the child. Was she going to hide or get an adult to open the door?
The file that Carolina had given her hadn’t contained a lot of information. She knew Paul Jameson was a single father that had just gotten custody of his biological daughter after the mother died. There were no details about how she died or when exactly, but Jess didn’t think it had been very long ago. The little girl, Hope, was only four years old. Really young. Her birthday was in a week and a half.
The father was also a war veteran and an amputee. Jess wasn’t sure exactly how that tied into caring for his daughter, but she had a feeling it might be a bit of a consideration.
She heard a deadbolt click, and she looked toward the door.
Oh, Carolina. The promise she’d called out as she’d left Carolina’s office flitted through her mind, and Jess had a feeling her restraint was going to be severely tested. Paul Jameson was a very handsome man. Tall and muscular, he had a thick head of dark, closely-shorn, almost black hair sprinkled with silver that had not seen a brush recently. It looked like he’d literally rolled out of bed, though it was almost six in the evening. His eyes, a brilliant, stunning dark blue, also seemed a little heavy-lidded. His brows were thick and dark, and a thick, luxurious beard ran across his very firm jaw. Holy hell. He could have been Superman’s long-lost brother. She didn’t normally go in for bearded men, but she could make an exception.
Those laser-blue eyes focused on her.
“Yes?”
“I’m Jess,” she said, giving him a teasing smile. She held out a hand expectantly, but he just stared. “I’m from Helping Hands, Healing Hearts. Carolina said you would be expecting me.”
“Oh,” he breathed, glancing down at her hand. “Sorry. Paul Jameson.”
He reached out and shook her hand with his left, an awkward movement. It took her a long moment to realize that he didn’t even have a right hand, or arm, which was why he’d shaken with his left. The sleeve of his shirt arm hung loose and empty, shocking her to silence.
“Sorry,” she said with a light laugh to cover the awkwardness. “The file said you were an amputee but not which limb.”
He smiled slightly. “Yeah, I’ve never met Carolina, so she probably wouldn’t know. I’m running on a recommendation from one of your fellow contractors.”
Jess tilted her head. “Oh, really? Which one?”
“Erin Knox. The dog trainer.”
Jess nodded, grinning. “Oh, yeah, Erin’s cool. Did you meet her through the kennel?”
Paul rubbed at his eyes with his hand. “Uh, no. Well, kind of. Would you like to come in?”
Stepping over the threshold, Jess glanced around the living room, setting her travel bag and purse inside. Again, like the front yard, it was pristine. She couldn’t even tell a child had just been here. Glancing around, she took a few steps, wondering where the child had gone.
“Have a seat,” Paul said behind her.
Smiling slightly, Jess turned to the living room and sank down onto the couch with one leg folded beneath her, dropping her bag to the floor beside her. She thought she heard a dog bark somewhere in the depths of the house, then it was quiet. That was most definitely a fresh pile of poo on the far side of the room. Obviously, Mr. Neat Freak hadn’t seen it yet.
Paul Jameson sat on the opposite end of the couch, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” he told her finally. “I was working on the computer and I must have dozed off.” He glanced around, his handsome face going slack. “Can you hold on just a minute? I need to see where my daughter is.”
Jess watched him walk out of the room. The guy had a damn cute bottom. He walked out of the room and down the hallway to the left. Jess heard a door open, then very softly close again. Paul returned just a moment later. “She’s asleep, and the dog is with her.”
Jess frowned. That had definitely been a child’s footsteps running from the main room. Maybe someone was supposed to have been asleep, and decided not to be. She snorted, glancing at Paul. He would have to learn to be sharper. “Did you put her down for a nap?”
“Yes, before I went to the office to work.”
“Did you see her go to sleep?”
He cocked his head at her. “No.”
Jess gave him a smirk. “She’s not asleep. She ran from the room just a minute before you opened the door.”
He frowned at her, then glanced back along the hallway. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. She was asleep when I looked in on her.”
Jess felt her brows creep up. It wasn’t very often that she was contradicted. It took her a moment to decide how to proceed.
Jess nodded. “I thought she’d left to get you, but obviously she’s playing at something else.”
The man, though he was damn good looking, frowned at her. “I really don’t think she’s playing at anything. She’s five. Or she will be next week. I shut her and the dog inside her bedroom an hour ago and they haven’t been out since.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He scowled, his attractive face taking on an edge. “Of course I am,” he growled.
She pointed at the fairly fresh looking pile of poo, and watched a gamut of emotions cross his face- aggravation, confusion and eventual realization. His jaw firmed. “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment.”
He exited the living room and disappeared around a door jamb. When he returned, he had a wad of paper towels in his hand and a red spray bottle. Kneeling down, the muscles in his thighs pronounced beneath his tan pants, he cleaned up the mess, squirted the rug with Resolve and blotted it away. She heard the thunk of an automatic trash ca
n lid as he threw everything away, then the swish of water as he washed his hands. Hand. How did you wash only one hand?
When he returned, he sank down into the chair, meeting her eyes. “Obviously you have some insight into children.”
Jess laughed. “A bit, maybe. I know they can be incredibly smart and calculating. She knows you don’t have a lot of experience. Am I right?”
He nodded once. “I just took custody of her a month and three weeks ago, after her mother died.”
“You hadn’t been a part of her life before that?”
“No,” Paul answered, running his hand up and down his thigh. “Her mother and I did not get along. She had kept Hope away from me most of her life. I had a few visits over her four years.”
Jess felt bad for the guy. She could see in his closed-down face how much that had aggravated him. Or maybe it was just the fact that someone had dis-ordered his life. “How did she die?”
Paul frowned, obviously not enjoying being on the spot and answering her questions. “Car crash,” he answered succinctly. “She was high on drugs. Unfortunately, Hope was with her.”
Oh fuck... If the kid had been in the car when the woman died, it was hard to tell what she’d seen. The poor baby. “So, where am I going to stay?”
Paul blinked, scowling. “I’m not even sure I’m going to hire you. Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a little? You show up dressed like that,” he waved a hand at her short shorts and bright pink spaghetti strap tank, “and don’t even give me a chance to ask you questions. Are you even qualified to watch children?”
Jess snorted. “I don’t think you have many options coming your way, Mr. Jameson. I’m certified through Helping Hands.”
His jaw firmed, and his eyes chilled. “Don’t mistake the absence in my daughter’s life as disinterest, Ms. Uh, Jess. I care very deeply for my daughter and I want the best care possible for her.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said, trying to bring the tension down a little. Was she just aggravated that he wasn’t falling all over himself, thanking her for coming to the rescue? “My last name is Swan. I’m one of seven kids and I am the oldest at twenty-seven. I’m a trained first responder and my certifications are current. If you need more than that, I also have a psychology degree hanging around, though I haven’t actually used it in a few years. Carolina is a personal friend and I appreciated the business model she wanted to create by aiding veterans, so I jumped into the business with her. I’ve completed more than two-dozen contracts for the company in four countries, with approximately,” she paused to tick on her fingers, “seven directly involving children. I’ve had three speeding tickets in three years. Would you like to see my international driver’s license and passport?” She reached for the bag at her feet.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said gruffly, looking a little chagrined. “I’m sorry I was so curt, Ms. Swan. I’m in a situation I never expected to be in and I hate having to accept aid. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“I can,” she said softly. “And I know I’m not your ideal choice, obviously, but I can be a short-term option while you look for another nanny.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
He glanced at her chest and she realized that he may not have been only looking at her clothes. She wore no bra beneath the tank. Was that his hangup? When she’d stopped at her apartment, she’d thrown her crap inside and left, knowing she was cutting it short on time after stopping to catch up with a neighbor friend of hers. So, she hadn’t changed. Maybe she should have. Having a guy leering at her while she took care of his kid could turn into an awkward situation.
She had to admit, though, if he wanted to play, maybe she wouldn’t be averse to it. Paul Jameson was a handsome guy. Maybe she could be the one to loosen him up…
Paul didn’t like the situation he was in. There was a bohemian standing in front of him, promising she could take care of his little girl, but could she really? At the very least he needed to call Carolina and confirm her credentials.
It pissed him off to be caught flat-footed, but he was worn out. If the woman could care for Hope for just a little while, until he found someone more… appropriate for the position. Hell, who was he to judge? Maybe she was a phenomenal young woman and Hope would behave for her like he hoped she would behave for him. Recently the girl had been stubborn. Damn stubborn.
Paul glanced at Ms. Swan, then away. The woman dressed like she was going to the beach rather than a job interview. If a person wanted to be hired, shouldn’t they look like the best person for the job? She probably knew he had no one lined up, and she was the only prospect. Sigh.
Her breasts were damn distracting, though, swaying gently beneath the fabric of her tank. She didn’t need a bra, but the fact that she wasn’t wearing one was going to aggravate him. And those shorts were so short he’d caught a hint of neon pink beneath the hem. He prayed it was a bathing suit and not her panties he’d glimpsed.
“Did you just come from the beach,” he asked as he led her down the hallway to the spare room.
“No. I just flew in from New Guinea and haven’t had a chance to do laundry.”
Relief swept through him. That made sense. She hadn’t been able to dress properly because she’d been traveling. “You can use our washer and dryer any time. For now, I’ll show you where you can sleep, then we’ll go see Hope.”
“Let’s go see Hope now,” she murmured, “before she thinks she got away with being sneaky.”
Yeah, maybe that would be a better idea. He paused in front of Hope’s bedroom door, decorated with a unicorn she’d drawn and colored. He pushed open her door and looked at the form of his daughter on the bed. Though the body didn’t move, it looked like she was trying to hold the little dog still.
“Hope, wake up,” he said softly.
Ms. Swan stood in the middle of the room and just watched them. Paul moved across to the bed and rested a hand on Hope’s shoulder.
“Daddy?”
Hope sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes. With Ms. Swan’s words playing in his head, he looked closely at the girl. She appeared much more bright-eyed than she probably should have been. It was obvious she had been play-acting when he’d checked on her earlier. Paul was a little hurt at the subterfuge, because he thought he’d been good to his daughter. Why was she running around taking advantage of his ignorance?
She’s barely five, he reminded himself. Parenting had a sharp learning curve and he would like to think he was better every day. Hope did nothing deliberately. “Hope, this is Ms. Swan. She’s going to be staying with you while I go to work.”
Hope looked at the young woman but said nothing. Then she glanced at Paul, and back to the woman. “I think Sophie needs to go outside,” she whispered.
Paul nodded and watched as his daughter, who looked so like him, slid out of bed and headed out the door, the little brown and white dog following along behind her. Paul looked at Ms. Swan. “We have a fenced backyard. I’ll show you the guest room, then you can join us out there for some playtime, if that would be all right.”
The woman nodded her head, and he turned to lead her from the room. The guest room had a decidedly masculine feel to it, but that couldn’t be helped. It was usually his buddies that stayed there. He didn’t think a woman had ever even stepped foot in the room, at least not since he’d owned the house. The sheets were clean, though. “You have your own bathroom and there are towels in that cupboard. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“I will. The bed looks soft. That’s all I care about at this point. I’ve been traveling for about forty hours over the past few days and I can barely keep my eyes open.”
He looked at her, curious. “That’s a long trip. Where did you come from?”
“I had a date in New Guinea,” she said with a yawn.
Paul stared at her, somehow not surprised. The woman was beautiful. There was no doubt about that. Stunning if he was honest with himself, with that sun-streaked tawn
y hair and her pale ocean green eyes. She sunned regularly, it looked like. He hated to generalize, but she seemed like the type to go from party to party. Or maybe date to date. “Quite a change from New Guinea to here, Ms. Swan.”
“You have no idea,” she laughed.
Normally, he was a pretty laid-back guy, or he tried to be, at least, but he felt a little defensive at her words. Was she deigning to come work for him?
Ms. Swan set her battered travel bag on top of the mattress and turned to him. “I can unpack later,” she said, giving him a slight smile. “I’d like to talk to Hope a bit before I go to bed. And please, call me Jess. I mean, I’m living in your house, so…”
Paul nodded once and led her from the room, not sure how he felt about calling her by her first name. He didn’t want to encourage anything more than a business relationship, but he supposed what she said was right. And it would probably ease Hope’s fears if they were on a first name basis. “And I’m Paul,” he said finally, embarrassed at the time it had taken for him to offer it.
They wound their way through the house and kitchen and through the French doors at the back. Hope was out in the yard with the little dog, but she glanced up when they came outside. Paul couldn’t read the expression on her closed-down face, but he could tell she was thinking hard. Looking away toward the dog, Hope walked to the back corner of the fence where she liked to hang out. There was an old pine back there, obviously old, that spread such good shade across the back lawn that Paul didn’t mind all the pine needles it shed every year.
Making a motion, they sat at the outdoor table. The sun was on its way down, but the redwood pergola that stretched over top of them had been built to block the harsh rays, making the back patio completely shaded. There was a gurgling fountain in the yard a few feet away, and it produced just enough white noise to drown out anything from the street. This was his favorite part of the house, and it had taken a lot of work to get it this way.
