Finally, he reached out and touched Rachel’s forearm. “You know,” he said softly, “that advice you just gave me, the stuff about listening to your heart and following it? Those are…very wise words to live by.”
Her face flooded with heated embarrassment.
“Sloan sure could use a friend—”
“Please—” she cut him off “—I really do have tons of work to do. And you don’t pay me to stand around talking about…personal issues.” With that said, she turned, pulled open the door and bolted.
Alone in his office once more, Greg sat down at his desk feeling as if he’d already put in a hard day’s work rather than just starting one. Was Rachel right? he wondered. Had Sloan’s problems with his daughters been the motivating factor behind the suspicions he’d voiced?
Sure, tension at home could have agitated Sloan to the point of being grouchy. He could have been using Greg’s situation with Jane as a way of venting his own frustrations with parenthood. Sloan sure had refused to back down in his suspicions about Jane. But Greg had to admit that his friend had raised a valid concern.
That darned phone call. The one that had yet to come from Jane’s sister. It had been weeks now. He should confront Jane about it. He knew that. But he just plain didn’t have the heart to.
Cradling his forehead in his fingers, he wondered why. Why didn’t he want to challenge Jane about the promised call?
“Because she just might turn out to be a bank robber,” he whispered to the walls of his empty office.
“You’re a real gem for helping me with dinner.”
Jane walked next to the grocery store cart that Greg pushed, grinning down at where little Joy sat, safely secured by a tether belt, in the front seat. “I’m happy to help. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.”
She couldn’t put into words just how pleased she was to be spending Thanksgiving Day with Greg and Joy. Getting to know his friends was going to be like icing on a delicious birthday cake.
Even though it was dangerous to be thinking this way, she couldn’t help but realize how much she and Greg and Joy seemed like an honest-to-goodness family unit. Mom. Dad. Child. The mere thought made her smile.
“What has you grinning?” Greg asked her.
“Oh, nothing.”
Greg happily reminisced. “My mom always had a house full of people in for the holidays. Every holiday. Friends, neighbors. We didn’t have any close relatives—Mom and Dad were both only children—but the rooms always seemed to burst at the seams.”
He closed his eyes, evidently engulfed in the past, and Jane’s gaze riveted to his handsome face.
“And the smells coming from the kitchen.” He inhaled. “Wonderful.”
The past wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, so she tried changing the subject. “Well, I can’t promise to equal your mother’s cooking. If that’s what you’re looking for, we’d better rush out and find a good caterer.”
Greg chuckled. “Nah. We’ll do just fine on our own. I’m kinda looking forward to cooking with you.”
He captured her with those gorgeous green eyes of his, and Jane was certain her knees were going to give out on her.
“It’ll be fun.”
She didn’t know what to say. It would be fun. It would be exciting and wonderful. But she didn’t dare voice her feelings for fear of coming across as too eager. Pathetic and pitiful. So she simply offered him a closemouthed smile.
He chose a five-pound bag of flour from the shelf and placed it into the cart. “So, you never did tell me…”
“What?”
“What had you smiling,” he said. “What kind of memories do you have of Thanksgiving?”
Her chest constricted. “Actually,” she began slowly, “I wasn’t remembering. There isn’t much about my past to smile about.”
Careful, a voice warned from the back of her brain.
“You see,” she continued, “my past consists of two periods—life before Mom left, and life after Mom left. Before she left, holidays were pretty dreary. No money. Little food. I had to deal with two things…three, really—Mom’s drinking, her men friends, and protecting Pr—”
She choked off the name and ended up trying to cover her blunder with a cough. Lord above! She’d nearly spoken her sister’s name.
Details mean trouble, the voice in her head taunted.
“And—and protecting my sister from the whole mess.” In a rush, she proceeded, “You see, my mother had a way of making us feel to blame for her dreadful circumstances.”
Suddenly, Jane felt shaky, sure that she was going to trip over something and the truth was going to come spilling out. Why had she felt compelled to pour out her troubled past to Greg?
“Life after Mom wasn’t much better. Money was still tight. Tight enough to make special holiday meals impossible. However, I didn’t have to deal with Mom’s drunkenness, or her men friends, or the guilt she piled on our shoulders.” One corner of her mouth cocked upward and she shook her head. “I spent the very first Thanksgiving after my mom left in the hospital. I was walking home from work late and was hit by a car. I had internal injuries and I was pretty bruised up, but my greatest fear was that Social Services would find my sister home alone and take her away. But, you know, no one ever asked a single question about my family.”
She frowned, her voice sounding far off as she continued, “Once the hospital administrators discovered I was eighteen with no health insurance and no money, they patched me up as well as they could and got me out of there in just under a week.”
Jane would live with the effects of the car accident for the rest of her life. Suddenly realizing the past had somehow folded in on her, she blinked and tried to smile. She was mortified by the expression she saw on his face.
“Now, don’t go pitying me,” she chided him. “I know what Thanksgiving is all about. And I’ve spent every Thanksgiving Day since then appreciating the good things in my life.”
“And what are those?”
His question was soft as heated silk. Interested. Totally absorbed with obvious concern for her, and Jane felt enveloped in the warmth he exuded.
“I’m thankful for my mom.”
This answer seemed to take him aback.
She nodded. “Really. Because of her, I was forced to take care of myself. I’m independent. I’m self-reliant. I’m fully capable of getting by on my own. If I’d have been born into some other family, I may have grown up soft. And needy.”
Right there in the middle of the supermarket aisle, Greg inched closer to her. With his gaze so intent, so focused on her, Jane felt as if they were the only two people in the world. He reached up and stroked the length of her jaw with the backs of his fingers.
“You’re really something, you know that?”
A shiver raced up her spine at his touch…at the base of her neck it exploded and coursed across every inch of her flesh in pinpricks, like millions of tiny stars rolling end-over-end across her skin.
“But I have to tell you—” his tone was low, intimate “—there are times when it’s good to be soft and needy. There are times when we really, really need to rely on others.”
She felt as if he were looking into the very depths of her soul. If his gaze got any hotter, she’d surely melt right where she stood. If she didn’t do something to diminish the intensity of this moment, she didn’t know what would happen, what she might say, what she might reveal to this wonderful man.
Reaching up, she curled her fingers around his wrist. “But for some of us, Greg, there isn’t anyone to rely on but ourselves.”
Her attempt to lessen the momentousness of the situation failed miserably. For, upon hearing her reply, his expression only seemed to grow more profound, more meaningful.
Without another word, he bent and covered her mouth with his. Taken aback by the unexpected contact, all she could do was stand there. No, that’s not true. She didn’t just stand there. She closed her eyes, lifted herself up on her toes.
His kiss was filled with warmth. It was also filled with an undeniable message.
He was offering himself, she realized. He was attempting to convey to her that he was someone on whom she could rely.
When he pulled back to gaze once again into her eyes, her lips felt chilled.
Jane didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do.
“Ma, mmm, ma.”
The baby’s excited tone had both Jane and Greg stepping apart, turning their attention to Joy.
The child motioned to Jane, waving her hand and mouthing, “Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma.”
“Looks like she’s trying to get your attention,” Greg said, grinning at his daughter’s cute antics.
But Jane was so overwhelmed by the sound of her niece’s voice that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Joy’s face. Jane knew Joy wasn’t saying what it sounded like she was saying. A baby had to be instructed how to say the word mama. A child had to be taught to physically form the word. And never once in all the months Jane had been caring for Joy had she presumed to say that word to Joy. But it sure sounded as if…
Hot tears sprang forth, welling in Jane’s eyes, splintering her vision into shards of bright light. Fate may have dealt her a vicious blow when it came to motherhood, but her maternal instinct was just as strong as that of any normal woman. And any normal woman who cared for a child—her own child—would be overcome at a moment like this.
Never in her life had she imagined a child calling her mother. Never. She simply hadn’t allowed herself to contemplate it. And even though she knew full well that the baby really wasn’t calling her mother, Jane still felt thunderstruck by emotion as Joy reached out to her, as she heard the baby making those wonderful sounds.
“Ma, mmm, ma!” Joy giggled, obviously delighted that she’d gotten Jane’s attention. Then the baby reached her chubby little hand, wiggling her fingers at the floor.
“What, baby? What is it?” Jane crooned, her voice sounding weak, thinned by the emotion flooding through her. “Oh, you’ve dropped your rattle.” She automatically reached to pick it up. But rather than give it back to Joy, she stuffed it in the diaper bag and searched for something else to give to the baby. “That one’s dirty,” she told Joy. “Let’s look for something else to play with.”
She spent a minute searching in the bag. She needed time to garner her wits about her. What would Greg think if he saw her bawling simply because Joy had called out to her? He’d think her utterly ridiculous.
Jane chatted with Joy as she gently urged the cart forward. The business of shopping for groceries for the Thanksgiving feast was once again the focus of the moment, and for that Jane was relieved.
That kiss. The look he’d given her. The silent message he’d imparted. Her relationship with Greg was developing into something she’d never imagined she’d have.
He was wonderful. Warm and witty. It was hard to describe in mere words how amazing he was. Just thinking about him made her skin prickle all over.
She cast him a furtive look, and then glanced down at Joy. Oh, my, how they did seem to make a fine family, the three of them.
Her heart ached as she realized they would never become a family. There was something standing in the way of that ever happening.
A huge, ugly lie.
Chapter Eight
Bad things were so easy to forget. Guilt could be so effortlessly ignored. Lies were so easy to push aside. Especially when the excitement of a holiday was at hand.
A coating of frost covered the trees and bushes outside Jane’s window when she awoke and got herself dressed on Thanksgiving morning. She would be spending the day with Greg and his friends, and she was thrilled with the idea. Her wardrobe was simple, but she did own a red tunic sweater that could pass for festive apparel even if it was a little worn. So she tugged it over her head, slipped on a pair of black knit leggings and slid her feet into black loafers.
A touch of mascara highlighted her gray-blue eyes, and lipstick—something she seldom wore—accentuated her mouth. She gazed in the mirror as she ran the brush through her honey brown hair and thought she didn’t look half bad for the “one who had inherited the brains rather than the looks.”
She couldn’t help but think that her attitude had a lot to do with the change in how she felt about her appearance. Funny how a man’s attention could shift a woman’s whole way of thinking about herself.
Chuckling, she went out to meet the day.
“Wow!”
Greg’s voice stopped her in her tracks as she came through the kitchen doorway.
“You look fabulous.”
Heat flushed her cheeks and her stomach danced with nerves. It was a pleasant feeling. Nice. Tingly. And she smiled.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’m really excited about getting to know your friends. How soon before we start cooking?”
“I’ve set dinner for three o’clock.”
“That early?”
Greg grinned. “Yes. It’s a Thanksgiving tradition around here to eat in the afternoon, which paves the way for an eight o’clock snack.” His mouth twisted with humor. “That way everyone gets to enjoy their favorite dishes twice.”
“Sounds like a good tradition to me.”
Any tradition at all would have been okay with Jane. She’d grown up with no customs whatsoever. She’d have eaten a breakfast of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy while standing on her head if that’s what Greg had wanted to do. It felt marvelous just to be included in this extremely family-oriented day.
She knew, from the way he’d spoken of his friends and partners, Sloan and Travis, that the men were like family to him. In fact, since Greg had no family, these men were the closest thing to it he had. Jane liked the way the three men had banded together because they had no real family support. She’d discovered from Greg that Travis had a mother and brother, but that there was some kind of rift that kept them apart. Jane didn’t know much about Sloan’s family, or lack thereof, but she hoped to learn more about him. He was supposed to be bringing his three girls to the dinner. And Rachel, their office manager, was invited also. So being included in this event had Jane feeling absolutely ecstatic. This would be the closest thing to a family gathering she’d ever attended.
Wanting all of Greg’s friends to like her, she was willing to do whatever it took to see that the meal—the whole day—turned out perfectly.
“So we should put the turkey in soon, don’t you think?” she asked.
“I had hoped to get the bird in the oven before Joy woke up.” He pulled a mug down from the shelf. “I’m happy to have your help,” he said as he poured coffee, “but you haven’t even had your dose of caffeine yet.”
He was so sweet to think of her. She took the mug from his hands. “I do use this stuff like medicine, don’t I?”
“Hey—” his grin was to-die-for sexy “—you’re not alone in that.” Then he lifted his own mug in a kind of salute, and then they settled in to enjoy the morning ritual that millions of people all over the world practiced.
Mmm. The coffee was hot, rich and delicious on her tongue.
The two of them sat at the kitchen table and talked about some of the current news of the day that Greg had read in the morning paper.
Finally, he said, “You want a refill?”
“Oh, no. Thanks, but I’m anxious to get a crack at that bird.” Then she cast him a hesitant look. “You don’t mind if I prepare the turkey for the oven, do you? I’ve never cooked for Thanksgiving. As I told you yesterday, when I was a kid, there was never enough money for a nice meal. And then after I started working at the restaurant, I always worked holidays.”
“Sure.” He seemed more than happy to allow her the honor. “I don’t mind in the least. If you want to get your hands dirty, who am I to say no?”
He chuckled, and Jane had to fight the urge to close her eyes in order to get lost in the wonderful sound of it. He was kind and caring to everyone around him, and there simply didn’t seem t
o be a discontented bone in the man’s body.
“But will you help me?” she quickly asked. “I will need a little instruction since I’ve never done this before. I do want the main course to be edible.”
Tipping his handsome face to one side, he bowed. “I’ll be right here. At your service.”
They looked at each other. In the silence, his words seemed to swell and grow and take up all the extra room in the kitchen. The air suddenly felt close. The temperature heated up.
Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, Jane studied Greg’s gaze. And he studied hers.
His soft smile broke the trance that had her securely ensnared.
“We’d better get a move on,” he said softly. “Joy will be stirring any minute.”
Reluctantly, she got up from the table and moved to the sink to wash her hands.
“Here,” he said, taking one elbow, “let me help you.”
Then he tugged on the sleeve of her sweater until it was far enough up her forearm to keep it dry. He did the same to her other sleeve.
He was so close she could smell the wonderful scent of him, and every time his fingertips grazed her skin she seemed to become more and more hypersensitive to his touch. Her blood chugged, thick and heated, through her veins.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice coming out in a husky whisper. “I should have thought of that myself.”
“Well, you can’t think of everything all the time.”
Something happened to his tone, something extraordinary that sent Jane’s heart rate soaring.
“You take such good care of us,” he continued. “You keep Joy happy and healthy. You keep the house looking wonderful. And I haven’t gone to work in a rumpled lab coat since you came to work for me. So it makes me feel good to be able to help you out. Even if it is only keeping your sleeves dry.”
His grin was so sexy it bordered on seductive, and Jane found herself shying away from his gaze. But he reached up, tucked his curled fingers under her chin and applied just enough gentle pressure to force her to look at him.
“I want you to know I appreciate all that you’ve done for us.”
The Nanny Proposal Page 10
