Family Secrets

by Michaels, Leigh

  He smiled just a little. “No. The garden’s roped off so spectators can’t get in the way, but I’ll get you in closer. You know, I still think you should be an extra. We’re going to need some tomorrow.”

  “I can hardly bring Nicky.”

  “Oh. Of course. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s much better. He doesn’t think so, because he’s tired of being shut in, but other than taking a couple of extra naps I think he was pretty much his normal self today. In another day or two, he can probably be out of isolation.”

  “Then I’d better get a phone call in to the nanny registry.”

  “Yes,” Amanda said. She felt as if she were cutting off her arm, but it was the only sensible solution. “How many nannies has he had since his mother died?”

  Chase frowned. “Three, I guess.”

  “In two years?” Amanda sounded horrified.

  “It’s a continual problem.”

  “No wonder he –” She bit her tongue.

  “What?”

  She hesitated and finally said stiffly, “I’m sorry. I’m poking my nose into something that’s none of my business.”

  “Look, if there’s a better solution I wish somebody would find it,” Chase said impatiently. “You can’t sign a nanny to a lifetime contract. Heaven knows I tried, but the first one went home to nurse her rich aunt, and the second one got married and moved to New Jersey, and the third one – ”

  “ – You fired.”

  “No, she got a job she liked better. It was the fourth one I fired. Sally lasted such a short time I hadn’t even counted her. And what was I to do about it? There are some things money can’t buy. I was already paying them the earth, and when they took the job they each agreed to stay a year at least – but even if I could have enforced the contract, what kind of care would Nicky have gotten after that?”

  “I see your point.”

  “Well, if you think I run through nannies, you should have seen what it was like when Desiree was hiring them.”

  “Nicky had nannies then, too?”

  “Don’t sound so shocked. She worked as many hours a week as I did. And when she was home...” He stopped and sipped his coffee, and after a moment he said, “And day care is no answer, either, for someone with a job like mine. So what do you suggest, Amanda?”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Her voice was miserable. Stephanie and the others in her circle of friends traded kids almost as casually as they’d swap paperback books, with no one keeping track of who had babysat the most. It was such a natural thing that it had never occurred to Amanda that someone else might not be part of such a supportive network. But southern California was not Springhill, and Chase’s friends were not like Amanda’s...

  Chase leaned a little closer, and his fingertips skimmed a lock of flaxen hair that had tumbled over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t take out my frustration on you.”

  She managed to smile. “It’s all right.”

  His fingertips lingered on the curve of her arm. “Amanda, if I took a bit too much for granted last night –”

  She was startled. Chase, taking too much for granted? All he’d done was kiss her. Or – horrors – did he suspect how deeply that simple caress had shaken her? “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Chase said dryly, “Just because I haven’t seen a man over the age of four hanging around you doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

  “Oh. That.”

  “And if I was out of line in saying what I did about wanting to go to bed with you, I’m sorry. Not that it wasn’t true, because it was, but if there is a man in your life –”

  She shook her head, and saw his eyes light with self-confidence and desire and just enough humor to make her feel wary. What was the man thinking, anyway--that she was crazy enough about him to ignore common sense?

  And why shouldn’t he think that, she asked herself. You very nearly are.

  “That’s good,” he said softly.

  She added hastily, “There’s no man at the moment, at any rate. But who knows about tomorrow?”

  “That’s right,” Chase said blandly. His voice sounded as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper, and his breath was warm against her temple. He kissed her cheek and slowly let his lips slide across the sensitive skin to her mouth. “Anything might happen, tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Over breakfast the next morning, as Nicky was stirring his cereal into complete sogginess, he said, “It’s not fair. Floyd can whistle and I can’t. And he can take a bath in a cup. I have to get wet all over.”

  He was feeling better, Amanda concluded, if his little-boy fondness for dirt was back. He hadn’t made a fuss about baths in a couple of days, since he’d realized that soaking in warm water really did stop the itching for a while.

  She leaned across the breakfast bar and studied him. His aristocratic dark eyebrows were drawn together in a furrow this morning, and the chicken pox on his face had begun to fade. No new ones had appeared in at least twenty-four hours, and the existing ones were drying up, so he wouldn’t need to be kept away from other people for much longer. The thought made her feel sad. She was going to miss this little guy.

  “You could make a contest of it,” she suggested. “See whether you can learn to whistle before Floyd says your name.”

  He pursed his lips and blew, unsuccessfully, and looked so disgusted that Amanda had to turn briskly back to her recipe book to hide the amusement in her eyes. “It does take practice, Nicky. Are you finished with that cereal?”

  He nodded, and carried the bowl carefully to the sink so she could dump the remainder down the disposal. “What are we going to do this morning?”

  “I thought we’d bake cookies. Remember the story we read about the gingerbread man last night?”

  Nicky nodded. Then he dragged a chair up beside her, climbed onto it, and got a spoon – which Amanda interpreted as whole-hearted approval of her plan.

  While the cookies were baking, he stood beside Floyd’s cage and repeated, “Say Nicky!” until Amanda was about to go mad. Finally he gave up and came back to sniff the pan of spicy gingerbread which had just come out of the oven. “Those cookies tickle my nose,” he announced. “Birds are silly, anyway. I have a dog at home.”

  “Oh, do you?”

  “A big dog.” He eyed Amanda as if wondering how much she’d believe, and threw out his arms. “Bigger than the whole world.”

  I’ll bet, Amanda thought. Imaginary dogs came in all sizes.

  “He’s got spots and stripes and lots of fuzzy hair –”

  “Where is he staying now, when you’re not at home?”

  That, plainly, was a problem Nicky hadn’t considered. He sighed. “Well, I’d like to have a big dog.”

  “It would be lots of fun, wouldn’t it? But there would be difficulties, too. Who would take care of him when you can’t?”

  Nicky ducked his head and looked up at her through the long fringe of eyelashes. It was one of his best tricks, Amanda thought, almost as if he was summing up his victim before striking. “You would,” he said confidently.

  The bad part of it was that he was very nearly right. Dogs and boys seemed to go together, and if circumstances were only different...

  Don’t even start to think about that, she warned herself. Nothing was going to be different.

  She wrapped him in an apron, gave him a dull knife, and set out several small bowls of colored icing. “We’ll use raisins for eyes, and red hot candies for buttons, and coconut for hair,” she said, and started to frost the gingerbread men.

  “I’ll make one that looks like me,” Nicky said. He industriously plastered icing on a cookie. It broke in two, and he put it down with a sidelong look at Amanda. “He can’t be broken. The Nicky cookie has to be special.”

  She handed him another gingerbread man. “Absolutely.”

  “Do you think I’m special?”

  “Of course you are, Nicky.”

  “Daddy sa
ys I’m really special. I’m a chosen child.” He smiled triumphantly.

  Every muscle in Amanda’s body tightened. She forced herself to speak casually. “You’re adopted, you mean?”

  Nicky nodded. “That’s it. My mommy didn’t carry me in her tummy. The mommy who died, that is.”

  “Yes, I see, dear.”

  What a story, she thought. The man from the tabloid would pay dearly to get hold of that tale, straight from Nicky’s own lips! It would be all the confirmation he needed of the old rumor of Chase foisting his love child off on his wife...

  The thought reminded her that she hadn’t mentioned the reporter to Chase, or to anyone in the production company. He might still be hanging around, looking for someone willing to talk. There wasn’t any way to stop him from asking questions, she supposed; it was a free country. But at least they could be on guard.

  “There,” Nicky said finally. “He’s done. Now I’ll make one who looks like Daddy.”

  He also made three Mandy look-alikes before he was quite satisfied, and a nanny – a skinny and slightly over-baked cookie which he adorned with a scowl drawn in frosting. “Because that’s all they do,” he confided. “They frown and say, Nicky, don’t get dirty all the time.” He rubbed his eyebrow and left a streak of icing on his forehead.

  Amanda laughed and kissed it away. “I hope the next one will be a whole lot jollier.”

  Nicky didn’t bother to answer that, but the sigh he heaved made him sound much older, and tired.

  After dinner that evening, he climbed up on her lap on the couch as they watched a television special about baby animals. He perked up when he saw the kangaroos, and asked if that was how all mommies carried their babies.

  Amanda was still trying to find an answer to that when he added pensively, “The mommy who did carry me in her tummy...Why did she give me away?”

  Amanda swallowed hard. Dear lord, how on earth was she to answer that question? And where was Chase when she needed him? How she would love to hand this child to him, and listen to his answer! She cuddled Nicky closer and played for a little time to think. “What does your daddy say about that?”

  “He says she loved me but she couldn’t take care of me.”

  “I’m sure he’s right, dear, that she loved you very much.”

  Nicky didn’t seem quite contented with the answer, but he didn’t press. It was almost as if he’d been over this ground many times before. “When will Daddy come?”

  “I don’t –”

  There was a knock at the door. Nicky sat up and called, “It’s open!”

  Chase put his head around the edge of the door. Nicky bounced out of her lap and ran to his father, who swung him up to sit on his shoulder.

  “Do you leave your door unlocked all the time?” Chase asked.

  “This is Springhill.” She smiled up at him. He looked even taller from this angle, with Nicky clutching his hair. “Besides, I expected I’d be too lazy to get up to answer when you came.”

  “Or too busy with the hooligan here.”

  “That, too.”

  Nicky was clamoring to get down. “I saved a Mandy for you to see, Daddy,” he said.

  “A what?” Chase put him down and Nicky dashed for the kitchenette.

  “A gingerbread cookie that he fondly believes resembles me.”

  “Oh, I see. He means a pretty one.”

  Amanda’s face turned delicately pink. She was being silly, of course; that was the kind of casual compliment that Chase didn’t even have to think about – and though she didn’t question that he meant it, such a simple thing shouldn’t affect her this way.

  Chase smiled and sat down beside her. “If that’s all it takes to make you blush –”

  “It’s not fair,” Amanda muttered.

  “Perhaps not, but it’s fun. And if you’re going to complain about your complexion, don’t expect me to listen.” His fingertip flicked gently against her cheek. “Your skin is like porcelain – except it’s soft and warm and glowing.”

  That really sent color flooding into her cheeks.

  Nicky came back with two cookies. “This one’s Mandy,” he said. “But you can’t have her, Daddy. I’m keeping her forever. So I brought a cookie Mandy frosted for you to eat.” He painstakingly arranged the cookies on the top of the trunk, then wriggled up between Chase and Amanda on the couch and started to watch his show again.

  Chase munched the cookie. “That’s pretty good. I bet you get a lot of practice, with all your little friends.”

  “I’ve baked a few thousand gingerbread men in my time, yes. It’s the thing I’m famous for. One of my friends is a cartoonist and teaches all the kids to draw, another has a pool and has given them all swimming lessons. I let them decorate cookies. You should see the place at Christmas time...” You’re rattling, Amanda, she told herself. Cut it out. He can’t possibly be interested!

  He was watching her with a slight smile and a gingerbread crumb clinging to the corner of his mouth. Amanda had to restrain herself from brushing it away. Or perhaps she could just kiss it away... Her pulse speeded up a little at the very thought.

  “You’re home early tonight,” she said, and belatedly realized how awfully domestic she sounded. No matter what she said, she was only getting herself in deeper. “I mean –”

  But Chase seemed oblivious to her gaffe. “I finished shooting a bit early and skipped dinner so I could at least say goodnight to Nicky.” He tousled the child’s hair, but Nicky’s attention was focused on the tiny creatures on the television screen. “Not that he appears to care.”

  “You haven’t eaten?”

  “I thought after he was in bed, I’d try to entice you down to the restaurant with me.”

  The prospect was tempting. She’d already eaten with Nicky, of course, but the main attraction of Chase’s invitation was hardly the food. She shook her head reluctantly. “We’re short-staffed at night, so I don’t know who I’d get to look after him. There’s always room service.” She added, diffidently, “Or I could fix you something. We had a pot roast tonight, and there’s some left.”

  “That sounds just fine.” He followed her to the kitchen and watched as she started to unload the refrigerator. “You actually got Nicky to eat pot roast?”

  She bristled a little. “It’s very good.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Chase said hastily. “I just meant that he seems to have an aversion to anything that’s nutritious.”

  “Well, if he’s allowed to have chocolate doughnuts, of course he’s going to prefer them.”

  Chase winced. “I get the message. Can I pour you a glass of wine?”

  The kitchenette hadn’t been built for two people, and the third time she had to ask him to move out of her way, Chase finally sat down at the breakfast bar and propped his chin in his hands.

  Amanda started to tear up lettuce for a salad. “You look so tired,” she said.

  “This shooting schedule is a killer. But after this project is finished, I’ll have a month or so free before the television season gets into swing.”

  “Is it as busy as this?”

  Chase shook his head. “We work long days when we’re shooting, but that’s only three days a week. And a lot of the preparation and paperwork I can do at home.”

  “Where’s home?” She knew, because there’d been a picture of his house in a magazine last year. In fact, she was asking more to keep him talking than out of curiosity; his voice had a husky edge to it tonight, and she loved to listen to it.

  “It’s just a little house, really. I built it last year.”

  She was startled. “You personally?”

  Chase’s eyebrows rose a little. “You mean, did I put up the rafters myself? No.”

  “Oh, of course. You did say you’d been a carpenter.”

  “Different sort, I’m afraid. But I drew the basic design. It’s a contemporary – lots of glass and wood – and not too far from the beach.”

  “It sounds lovely.” She se
t a salad in front of him.

  “It’s very private.”

  That reminded her of the tabloid reporter. Chase listened to her story about the waitress chasing Joe Smith out of the restaurant with a broom, and laughed. “She’ll probably make next week’s issue with speculations about what she’s covering up,” he said.

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  Chase sobered suddenly. “I didn’t say that. But after a while, you learn not to worry about it any more. There are always a few who are going to believe that kind of trash, but most people know better.”