The Bride and the Bargain

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “The nanny.”

  She tucked her tongue between her teeth and counted to ten. Twelve. Seventeen. “The nanny. You hired a nanny already.” She couldn’t pretend that she’d never considered that he might. Even Paula had warned her to expect it. “Without consulting me.” That, she hadn’t expected him to do. “Did you smuggle her into the nursery or something so that I wouldn’t notice her?”

  “She arrived over an hour ago, as I arranged,” he said evenly. “You were in the shower or I would have introduced you already. If you don’t like her, you can choose someone else.”

  “How magnanimous of you.” Her voice was tight. Through the monitor, Timmy’s crying suddenly ceased and she could hear, instead, a softly sung nursery song. “So what am I supposed to do about Paula? I’ve paid her through the week.” Not that Paula had ever wanted money for minding Timmy. But back in the beginning, Amelia had insisted. Now, she mostly didn’t like thinking she wouldn’t see her friend every day.

  “Then she can consider it a small bonus.”

  “So you want me to quit my job and have a nanny for the children. What on earth am I supposed to do with my time?”

  “That’s something for us to discuss. You’re my wife. Naturally you’ll have a nanny—here— for the children.”

  “Wife on paper only,” she reminded under her breath.

  His eyes narrowed, but not quickly enough to mask their sudden, sharp gleam. “Ah.”

  She flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Maybe you would have preferred that I spent our wedding night at the hotel suite in that canopied bed with you rather than on the couch.”

  Naturally, he’d had to keep up the appearance that they were a regular newly wedded couple. So they’d spent the night in an enormous suite at the hotel, replete with two bedrooms, two king-sized beds—one that was a canopied fantasy—and a living area into which she could have fit Daphne’s entire apartment. He hadn’t even used the second bedroom, though, sleeping instead on the couch in the living area. They might forgo a honeymoon with reasons that could pass a public validity test, but how would he have explained it if they’d seemed to have slept separately on their wedding night?

  Then, when they returned to the shack the day before, Gray had ensured that she and the children were comfortably settled in their quarters where all of their belongings had been unpacked for them, and excused himself for the office. Sunday or not, he had work to do. She assumed he’d spent the night at his downtown apartment because he certainly hadn’t been in the luxurious suite they were supposedly sharing now.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she assured blithely. “I must say I’m a little surprised that you were absent last night, but maybe that’s the kind of marital relationship your family is used to.”

  “The only normal marital relationships this family is used to are those my brothers are just now experiencing. And I wasn’t absent. You went to sleep early.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Right.” She hadn’t climbed into the mammoth-size bed before eleven o’clock. And she knew that he hadn’t climbed into that bed with her at any point after that. She would have heard him.

  She was used to caring for Timmy. She hadn’t slept that soundly in three months, despite the fact that the baby was now sleeping through the night.

  “And you sleep on your stomach. With one foot sticking out from beneath the bedding. After I covered it up the first few times, and you worked it out again, I figured it was deliberate. I was right when I figured you for the flannel pj’s type, though. And you’re a pillow hog. What’s the matter? Annoyed that I didn’t…wake you?”

  Her mouth snapped shut.

  He smiled slightly and leaned closer, until she could feel the faint whisper of his warm breath against her ear. “If I didn’t trust the maid service at the Olympic to keep their mouths shut, why do you think I would trust the cleaning staff here at the shack to refrain from gossiping over whether I’m sharing my bride’s bed?”

  Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the idea that she could have slept through him entering that bedroom suite at all, much less occupying for so much as a minute the other side of that sinfully comfortable bed.

  She sidled up a step, wishing she still had on those flannel pants and cropped top beneath her robe. But all she wore beneath the aging terry cloth were the clean bra and panties she’d donned after her shower.

  Next to his well-finished charcoal suit and red tie she felt alarmingly underdressed. “I’m going to check on Timmy.” Though the baby was certainly not crying now. “Meet this…Bonny person.” And if she didn’t like the woman, she was going to do something about it, whether Gray expected her to take his comment about that seriously or not.

  He didn’t argue. Just watched her with that steady, all-seeing gaze of his, as if he knew what she was really doing.

  Escaping.

  She swallowed and backed her way up another step. “I—I’d appreciate it if you would urge Jack and Molly along before you leave.”

  “Who said I was leaving?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m a newlywed. Maybe I want to spend some extra time enjoying that state.”

  She flushed. “You didn’t worry about that yesterday. What’s wrong? Is somebody becoming too curious about how little time we spend together?”

  “There were some things yesterday that couldn’t wait.” He reached in his pocket in that utterly familiar motion and pulled out his phone. Glanced at it. Pocketed it once more.

  “Not important enough to bother answering?”

  “It’s Marissa, actually. But she’ll wait.”

  Amelia swallowed her surprise. Gray prided himself on his availability to his closest associates. “Not on my account, I hope.” She backed up another step. “Answer your cell phone all you want,” she lied blithely. “Why would I care?”

  “Most women would be flattered at being put first.”

  “I’m not most women.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Letting herself think that was a compliment would be folly. She dragged the sash of her robe tighter around her waist and lifted the monitor. “Excuse me.”

  “What did Dr. Jackson report yesterday?”

  “How did you know he’d called me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Am I being watched?”

  He let out a half laugh. “No more than I am, toots. Harry mentioned it.”

  The doctor had called late in the afternoon when Harry had insisted that she and the children join him lakeside to enjoy the fresh, warm day. Amazingly enough, he’d been teaching Jack and Molly how to fish. Or, to be more accurate, he’d been trying to teach them how to fish, since it had seemed to Amelia that Harry didn’t exactly possess a wealth of knowledge or ability in that particular area.

  Still, they’d all seemed to be having fun, and Timmy had been an angel. When Harry hadn’t been puzzling and muttering over the fancy lures he’d pulled out of a tackle box that looked as if it had come straight out of a sporting goods showroom, he’d been holding the baby.

  She’d tormented herself wondering if the man suspected the child was his grandson. Tormented herself wondering if Timmy was his grandson.

  “He was just giving me an update on the tests Daphne’s had in the week she’s been there.”

  “And?”

  Amelia moistened her lips. “He wants to run more. She’s not responding quite as quickly to the increase in her therapy sessions as he’d hoped.”

  “What about her long-term memory?”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “When are you visiting her again?”

  She tightened her belt robe again. “I don’t know.” She wasn’t about to tell him that she was too cowardly after having married him to face her own sister just yet.

  “I’ll go out there with you and the kids today after school.”

  “More devoted husbandlike behavior?” she asked waspishly.

  He didn’t deny it. “About fou
r? We’ll grab an early supper somewhere for the kids afterward.”

  His apparent concern for them only bit at her more. It was a very slippery slope on which she perched, because the man did seem interested, and she couldn’t afford to get used to it. To trust it.

  She’d trusted John and look what happened.

  Only lately, John’s defection didn’t hurt as badly as it once had.

  “Fine.” If only Daphne would recover her memory. Maybe she’d recognize Gray and this whole situation could end, right now.

  Except that Amelia had committed herself to Gray. Or rather she’d committed herself to helping him satisfy his father’s wishes.

  She realized that Gray was watching her. “What’s going on inside that head of yours now?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Which is why there is a parade of expressions crossing your face.” He slowly ascended the stairs until he stood a riser below hers. He was still taller than she. “Things will be a lot easier for us if you just say what’s on your mind, Amelia.”

  “Oh, and you do such an admirable job of that, yourself?”

  The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. “What I’m thinking right now is that I should have joined you under that fancy canopy.”

  An odd sensation curled through her abdomen. Low. Warm. She wondered, somewhat desperately, how much longer Jack and Molly were going to dawdle over their breakfast, because their presence about now would go a long way toward keeping her from humiliating herself.

  But there was no sign of her niece and nephew in the wide hallway that led to the breakfast room.

  “I told you after the reception that I’d fit on the couch more easily than you would.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

  “I don’t sleep with men I don’t love.” She nearly winced at her prim tone.

  He reached out and slid his fingers through her hair where it lay over the shoulder of her ancient terry cloth robe. “Sex doesn’t have to have anything to do with love.”

  “It does for me.” Which did an admirable job of not explaining the heat pooling inside her.

  The corner of his lips tilted. “Sounding so certain like that makes a man want to test the theory.”

  “You don’t even like me!”

  “Actually, I don’t think I ever said that.”

  She lifted her eyebrows in disbelief.

  “Trust doesn’t go hand in hand with liking, either,” he murmured. “There are plenty of people that I like whom I trust even less than you.”

  “There you go, then,” she said, feeling stung despite herself. “You don’t trust me. Why would you want…want—”

  “Want you?” he finished, looking vaguely amused. “You must not look in the mirror very often.” His fingers drifted from her hair to the rolled lapel collar of her robe and slowly followed it downward.

  She grabbed the banister with her free hand and swatted at his marauding fingertips with the baby monitor. “Stop it. Stop toying with me. I know I’m not the kind of woman you like.”

  His lashes dropped, until she could practically feel his gaze on her lips. “More of that infamous research of yours, I suppose?”

  “Whatever works. Jack.” She focused hard on her nephew’s appearance. “There you are. Where’s Molly?”

  “Finishing her muffin.”

  “Tell her to do so more quickly if she wants me to braid her hair before school.”

  Gray’s teeth flashed in silent laughter and he slowly retreated a step. “Saved by the boy,” he murmured for her ears.

  She gave him a stern glare that only had his smile widening.

  Thoroughly disconcerted, she yanked the lapels of her robe closer together at her throat and fled up the stairs. Behind her, she could hear the low murmur of Gray’s and Jack’s voices, but they faded as she continued along the corridor.

  Gray’s private rooms were more on the order of a spacious home within a home. Two stories of rooms guaranteed him plenty of privacy when he was in residence at the shack. She’d learned right away that there was little chance of running into anyone else unless you wanted to. When Gray had told her there would be plenty of space for the children, he hadn’t been exaggerating. They had their own state-of-the-art kitchen, should they choose to use it, separate bedrooms and baths for the children—who thought they’d landed in heaven as a result—and a spacious living room that boasted the same spectacular lakeside view as the rest of the quarters. Every room was beautiful. And comfortable.

  The nursery that had been prepared for Timmy with mind-boggling speed was one of Amelia’s favorites, though. In her wildest dreams she couldn’t have imagined a more perfect nursery. From the way the light through the many windows bathed the custom-painted nursery-rhyme murals in a dreamy glow each morning, to the mahogany sleigh crib and matching chests—which were so numerous, every item of clothing that Amelia and the children had possessed could have fit among the drawers—the room was completely wonderful.

  Instead, only Timmy’s belongings filled just a few of them, seeming to unnecessarily point out the significant difference between Gray’s lifestyle and theirs.

  Now, she stopped in the doorway, gathering her wits about her, and studied the woman who was standing at the changing table where Timmy lay, happily kicking up his heels as she changed his diaper.

  His cloth diaper, thanks to the diaper service that Gray had arranged. What was left of the supply of disposables that he’d brought to the apartment that one day was currently housed in the built-in cabinet alongside the changing table. Everything had happened so quickly since then, she hadn’t even had an opportunity to use them all.

  Bonny had iron-gray hair, pulled back in a thick bun, a sensible-looking gray cotton dress belted at the waist and flat-soled shoes. She looked more like a warden than a nanny and Amelia was admittedly prepared to dislike the nanny on sight.

  But the smile on the woman’s face as she crooned a song to Timmy made it impossible to do so.

  “Hello.”

  The woman looked over at her. “Mrs. Hunt. Good morning. I’d greet you more properly, but—” She lifted the soggy diaper, and laughed a little as she deftly exchanged it for a fresh one.

  Amelia stifled her sigh. Darnit. She was going to like the woman. She joined her alongside the changing table and nudged Timmy’s waving fist with her finger. He latched on, beaming beautifully up at her.

  “He’s a charming one, isn’t he?” Bonny fit Timmy’s rubber pants over the diaper and lifted him off the changing table, holding him toward Amelia. “Mr. Hunt warned me that he’d steal my heart right off the bat and I suspect he is right.”

  If it weren’t for the way Bonny clearly expected Amelia to take the baby, she might have felt more uneasy. But Bonny just looked approving as Amelia took Timmy and he chortled happily, snagging his tiny little fingers in her hair. She distracted him with a small squishy turtle that Daphne had gotten for him before he was born. “He’s a very good baby.”

  “He looks perfectly healthy and he’s loved and well cared for,” Bonny said comfortably. “You’re clearly doing a wonderful job with him. He’s happy.”

  “I’ve had a lot of help learning.”

  “Your friend, Ms. Browning?”

  Amelia gave her a surprised look.

  “Mr. Hunt told me what a good friend she’s been to you all.” Bonny finished wiping her hands with an antibacterial wipe and tossed it in the trash bin that was as cleverly disguised as beautiful wood furniture as the diaper pail. “Now, I’m here to care for the children—Timmy in particular, of course—but you and Mr. Hunt are the parents.” She didn’t blink at the term. “So you just tell me what you like and don’t like and we’ll take it from there.”

  A faint sound at the doorway alerted Amelia to Molly’s presence. Her niece was eyeing Bonny with some alarm. Amelia handed Timmy back to the nanny and went to Molly, drawing her into the room. “Molly, this is Ms.—” She looked at Bonny
questioningly.

  “Just Bonny,” the woman assured easily. “I’m here to help out your aunt and uncle.” She held out her hand toward Molly. “And you are Molly. Mr. Hunt told me you were the prettiest little girl he’d ever seen, and I must say I’d have to agree.”

  Molly’s eyes widened a little. “He said that?” she whispered.

  “Cross my heart.” Bonny suited words to action.

  Even Amelia believed her.

  She took the comb and bands that Molly was holding and swiftly braided her long hair, while Bonny asked a few questions about Timmy’s typical schedule.

  And then Jack was bolting down the hall, yelling at Molly to find her backpack and Amelia quickly excused herself, as well, kissing the top of Timmy’s sweet-smelling head before reluctantly leaving.

  Her clothes took up only a small space in the enormous closet that Gray’s master suite possessed and she grabbed the first suit she came to. She pulled on the navy skirt, shoved her bare feet into matching pumps and buttoned the navy jacket over her bra. Tossing some hairpins and her brush into her briefcase, she made it out to the landing at the same time as the children.

  There was no sign of Gray still about when they dashed down the stairs and headed out the private, side entrance. Peter was there with the car, waiting.

  Amelia urged the children inside and followed, only to nearly bang her head on the roof of the vehicle.

  Gray was already seated inside.

  Feeling flushed and blaming it on her rush, she ignored the glint in his eyes and sat down as far from him as she could. They all fastened themselves in and Amelia grabbed her briefcase, dumping it on the wide seat between her and Gray. She fished out the hairpins, dropping them on her lap and stared blindly out the side window as she brushed her hair, gathering it at her nape.

  “Leave it down. Or are you afraid it won’t suit the librarian image you’re trying to maintain?”

  Her fingers were already shaking too much to work the pins into the chignon.

  “I like it long, too,” Molly added softly. Jack didn’t give her a second look; his nose was buried in his handheld electronic game.