She most certainly did not need this particular hunk to make her feel even less attractive than usual. Abandoned by her father at birth and orphaned by her mother’s premature death ten years later, Ella was past the preferred age of adoption when she entered the state’s social system. Each time a prospective parent passed her over for a baby, a toddler, or a prettier, blond, blue-eyed little girl, she became convinced that her own freckled-faced, red-haired—the bane of her existence—plain looks were not going to get her anywhere in this world. So instead she chose to cultivate other attributes like diligence, competence, loyalty and a fertile imagination that could take her far beyond any institutional walls.
The children’s father didn’t return Ella’s scowl. Instead a dazzling smile spread across his face. One could almost see the proverbial lightbulb going on over his head.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he said, stepping forward and pinning her with a gaze that could best be described as predatory.
Startled, Ella took a step backward and tripped over the arm of a plush chair.
Hawk reached out a hand to stop her tumble in midair.
At his touch, Ella felt a whoosh of air leave her lungs. Her lips formed a perfect “O” that filled the room with an exclamation of astonishment. A zing of electricity passed from his hand to hers, locking them in a current of pure sexual energy. Ella’s pulse skittered. Her eyes widened in surprise. His, she noted, were the most remarkable shade of gray shot through with golden flecks, and they sparkled with male awareness. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he was no more immune to the electricity generated by their touch than she was.
Ella wasn’t sure what had gotten into her. Never in all her life had a man affected her so immediately. So entirely.
“Are you okay?” he asked, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Had her knees actually turned gelatinous? Ella wondered as she attempted to steady herself. She might not be the prettiest doll on the shelf, but she’d always prided herself on being graceful. And relatively quick-witted.
This klutz act was downright embarrassing.
She hastened to assure herself as much as him. “I’m fine. Really.”
Removing her hand from his was like tearing two magnets apart. It took an act of supreme willpower. Grateful that she had somehow managed to break contact with him physically, Ella deliberately stepped around the offending chair and placed it between them as a barrier.
Hawk suppressed a grin. Surely this sweet little thing didn’t think he was going to chase her around the furniture like some lecherous villain in a moldy, old situation comedy. As a successful international business entrepreneur and widowed father of two, he was way past playing those kinds of silly games. Burdened by responsibilities which he shouldered himself, he hadn’t entertained thoughts of a sexual nature for so long that it was actually comical. For goodness’ sakes, Ella McBride was just a child herself. A virgin, too, he’d bet by the way she’d reacted to his touch. Why, the poor thing was practically hyperventilating.
“There’s no need to look so frightened,” he said, hoping to avoid having to instruct her on how to breathe deeply into a paper bag. “I have no intention of forcing myself on you. I just want to offer you a job.”
Ella’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What kind of job?”
“None that requires you dressing up in a sexy French maid’s outfit if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assured her with an irresistible smile that had her reaching for that chair all over again.
Digging her nails into its velvet upholstery, Ella did her best to look aloof and sophisticated. It was obvious that this man found her a funny, naive little fool. Which, of course, she was. What would anyone as obviously rich and handsome as this man want with an ugly duckling like her? Certainly not the sexual dalliance that she had imagined for the split second that had sent her pulse racing full speed down that long, well-traveled road of her imagination.
“Not only do I feel terrible about causing you to miss your interview,” Hawk assured her. “I really could use your services. Clearly my children are taken with you.”
Considering that it might well take a crowbar to pry them from her side, it was a gross understatement.
“And I really do need your help.”
“Are you asking me to be your nanny?” Ella asked in dismay.
What was it about her that gave off such strong maternal vibes? She felt far too young to be pigeonholed so early as a full-time caregiver. Having just discovered how full life could be on her own, she wasn’t overly eager to give up her freedom just yet.
Misunderstanding, Billy began jumping up and down in excitement. “Yeah, you can be our new mommy!”
Even though she didn’t know exactly what was going on, Sarah, too, began dancing in place and chanting, “Mommy, mommy, mommy!”
“Nanny!” Ella and Hawk corrected in chorus.
Seeing the becoming blush coloring her cheeks pink as apple blossoms, Hawk tried smoothing over the awkwardness of the moment. “That word has such a menial connotation. Couldn’t you just think of it as helping out a desperate father and children?”
Desperate was too mild a word for how Hawk was feeling. Over the past year he had developed a new appreciation of what such “menial” work entailed. Backbreaking, exasperating, and unappreciated, it nonetheless had intrinsic rewards that could never be found in a boardroom. After Lauren’s death, Hawk came to realize just how much distance his job had put between him and his family. For a time he’d felt more like a stranger than a father. The children were only just now beginning to open up to him. Being included in their nighttime prayers, reading them their favorite stories and feeling their little arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug was all the incentive he needed to work out whatever problems might arise. Working at home would give him the opportunity to forge that precious connection with his children. Having someone to help him oversee them while he attempted to run a business was the perfect solution to provide for their safety and his sanity.
Price was no object in procuring this young woman’s services, and “no” was not an answer Hawk was accustomed to accepting.
Ella fended off the suggestion with a wave of her hand. “It’s kind of you to offer, but I really don’t think so.”
“Please,” little Sarah implored, her huge blue eyes filling with hope.
Ella groaned.
She recognizing the throbbing behind her right eyeball for what it was.
Obligation overload.
That all too familiar sense of having to put others’ needs before her own was so deeply ingrained from years of service that it had left worry lines permanently etched upon her forehead. Passed over for adoption herself time and time again, Ella was frequently farmed out to foster homes in need of a strong back and free baby-sitting services. Her friends had called her Sister Mac in jest, making fun of her devotion to other people’s children—and reminding her of the heartbreak she inevitably suffered every time those ties were severed.
Years of being used by the system had taught her the folly of putting herself second to others more fortunate.
“Pleeeeeease,” echoed Billy, dragging the word and her heart into several pieces.
“Do you mind my asking what you planned on making if you got that job in town you mentioned?” Hawk asked before the final decibel of his son’s pleading had died away.
The offended look on Ella’s face indicated that she did indeed mind. Nonetheless she rattled off a figure that included a fair margin for gratuities. She may not be the prettiest girl George Abrams would ever hire on at the Watering Hole, but she had a way with customers that unruffled feathers and transformed frowns into smiles. People found Ella’s genuine interest in them so refreshing that even the crustiest curmudgeons usually left a generous tip behind.
Hawk didn’t so much as blink at the sum she quoted. “I’ll double it. And include room and board as well as a generous up-front signing fee. How soon can you mov
e in?”
“Move in?” Ella squeaked. “Why, I don’t even know your name!”
“William Fawson Hawk III,” he supplied in a formal tone, extending her a smile and his hand once again. “But you can just call me Hawk.”
Ella backed away from it as she would from a snake curled up in the grass. She wasn’t about to risk physical contact again with anyone who held such phenomenal power over her sensibilities.
“If you’re a decent cook, I’ll triple the amount. The kids can testify to the fact that I can even manage to screw up a basic peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and even their unnatural fondness for microwave macaroni and cheese has worn thin.”
“I can cook, and I can provide you with references, too,” Ella admitted grudgingly, feeling herself slipping into the vortex of the tornado which was gathering speed around her. Her head was spinning. Was this guy for real?
Looking around at the sophisticated decor, Ella knew she wasn’t dealing with just any crackpot. It appeared this man was an excellent businessman, just as smooth as the expensive bourbon she’d spied behind the wet bar. Did he realize that he was offering her an opportunity to make enough money over the course of a year to pay for the college education that had been eluding her since high school graduation? If she continued taking classes one at a time as she could afford them, Ella figured she’d be old enough to collect Social Security by the time she actually earned a degree.
Why she wasn’t jumping all over this man’s extraordinary offer was beyond her.
It certainly wasn’t because she minded doing an honest day’s work. She had been doing that for as long as she could remember. Nor did it have anything to do with not liking the two little imps who had wolfed down an entire sack of cookies at her rough-hewn table. They were utterly adorable. Not to mention that they could well prove to be the most valid audience to whom she could safely subject her stories. Even though a heartbreaking stint of trying to make it as a full-time writer/illustrator hadn’t yielded the slightest opportunity of being published, Ella wasn’t ready to part with her dream until she absolutely had to.
Perhaps it was because as an aspiring artist, she was reticent about giving up her solitude.
Perhaps it was simply that she had already wiped enough runny noses and bottoms to last her a lifetime.
Or perhaps it was because the impact of this man’s eyes was as powerful as his touch. A touch, she reminded herself nervously, that sent her tumbling over a chair like some cheap slapstick comedian.
“How soon can you start? Will you need help moving in?” Hawk pressed.
The lopsided smile he had passed on to his son deepened the dimple in his chin that Ella found so fascinating. Such charm ought to be bottled, she thought, dimly aware that she was being danced into a corner without so much as feeling her feet touch the ground.
“I can help,” Billy volunteered, throwing his little chest out in a manly fashion.
A woman would have to be made of marble to have resisted such chivalry.
Ella capitulated with a sigh that said she already regretted the decision. “Moving isn’t a problem. I don’t have much to bring over,” she explained simply, then added with an authority that belied her youth, “but if I’m going to work for you, we need to establish some ground rules.”
Hawk tried not to grin too broadly. He didn’t think he could keep a straight face if she started setting forth conditions to safeguard her chastity.
She didn’t. Instead Ella startled him with an admonition that had nothing whatsoever to do with protecting her lithe young body.
“I’ll agree to your terms as long as number one, I can have every Wednesday evening off to attend a college class I’ve already signed up for, and number two, you agree not to undermine my authority in any way. I want free reign to handle the children how I see fit. I have to warn you,” she added looking him squarely in the eye with all the earnestness of someone about to disclose a long, checkered criminal record. “My methods are less than conventional.”
“With hair such an outrageous color of red as yours, I’d expect no less,” Hawk proclaimed, filling the room with the warm resonance of a laugh that left Ella’s face flushed.
Two
The next day, as she snapped her suitcase shut, Ella was still fuming about Hawk’s parting remark. Scratched and scuffed from years of abuse, the old yellow luggage had indeed seen better days. But as it was one of the few things Ella had left to remind her of her mother, it was nonetheless an item she cherished. Setting the solitary bag out on the porch, Ella thought to herself that it was a good thing being a nanny didn’t require an extensive wardrobe. A couple of pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts, her favorite red sweater, and a pair of tennis shoes would have to serve her well.
As had the rustic cabin which she had called home for the past year and a half. The single room was large enough to house a bed, a rough-hewn table, a couple of chairs and an ancient but functional stove utilized both for cooking and heating purposes. An easel stood guard beside the front window. Colorful art supplies were neatly arranged in a box beside an unfinished work in progress. Log walls were decorated with vibrant paintings of castles and fairyland inhabitants, several wearing the latest in modern-day running shoes.
Others might turn up their royal noses at the thought of living as simply as Ella did, without such newfangled conveniences as running water and electricity. Disregarding their judgment as bourgeois, she laughingly referred to her home as a “studio.” Ella considered herself in good company with other artists who accepted hardship as a necessary encumbrance in maintaining the freedom of their unconventional lifestyles. Of course, there were times like yesterday when those two adorable urchins arrived on her doorstep that she would have given anything for a telephone to save her from the treacherous march from her place to the mansion next door. How much simpler her life would be now had she simply been able to make a call to the children’s workaholic daddy without ever having to look directly into his hypnotic gray eyes. The color defied the artist in her to capture it on canvas.
Never alone in the solitude of her imagination, Ella was content spending her days in the long, comforting shadows of the Wind River Mountains. Some of her happiest moments had been spent rocking contentedly on her front porch, listening to the joyful trill of the meadowlarks’ songs as she painted the world the way she thought it should be. Her new boss may have a veritable castle in comparison, but Ella was nonetheless hesitant to leave her own place behind. After years of thankless servitude, she thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of having no one to take care of but herself.
Remembering all the times she had given her heart to a needy family only to have them roughly return it when her indenture was up, Ella told herself not to get overly involved with Billy and Sarah. It wouldn’t surprise her if their well-to-do papa didn’t give up on Wyoming before the end of his first winter, soon tiring of the state’s harsh climate, forced isolation and dearth of urbane culture. Her new neighbor’s fancy furnishings suggested William Fawson Hawk III was more into highbrow society events and yuppie comforts than rodeos and ranching. Ella suspected that like many rich transplants, he considered the latter more a hobby than an actual profession.
Not that it mattered to her one way or the other. The extravagant salary he was offering her to take care of his children was enough to help Ella set aside any qualms about her “hottie” new boss. Haughty was more like it, she thought to herself, mentally engaging in an imaginary conversation with Phoebe, the long-time friend who introduced her to that latest college expression for an attractive member of the opposite sex.
Phoebe was certain to go wild over Hawk. Boy crazy since seventh grade, her best friend was still breaking her neck following any cute male butt that happened to sashay by. Secretly Ella suspected Phoebe had taken a college art course with her simply to ogle the nude male models who were paid to pose for the class. A hopeless romantic, Phoebe was one to create great love stories out of harmless flirtations and the most
innocuous glances.
Depositing her treasured box of art supplies into the back of the pickup, Ella set about the task of gathering up the litter of abandoned kittens. Despite the affectionate petting they received beforehand, they mewled in protest at being confined to and transported inside a cardboard box. Though Ella doubted anyone would actually bother breaking in to her humble abode, she nonetheless locked the front door and said a silent farewell to her home. With a regretful sigh, she placed the kittens on the front seat of her pickup, tossed her suitcase in the back, and headed for her new job.
The distance between her cabin and Hawk’s Red Feather Ranch was relatively short as the crow flies. Wearing tennis shoes, Ella could make the trek through aspen groves and crisscrossing creeks in approximately fifteen minutes. Unfortunately since roads were not engineered according to a crow’s good sense, she was compelled to drive the perimeter of her few acres and around Hawk’s vast pastureland. She rolled down the windows to cross-ventilate the aging pickup. She didn’t mind the wind messing up her hair on such a glorious day as today.
The meadows clung tenaciously to the last green of the fading summer season. It wouldn’t be long before the aspen leaves would be devouring the hillsides in fiery bursts of red and orange. Ella was sorely tempted to pull over and capture the way the morning light cast a celestial halo around Gannet Peak. The highest summit in Wyoming, it towered above the granite back of the Wind River Range. Ella loved hiding fantasy creatures in the backgrounds of her paintings. Squinting against the rose-colored sunrise, she could just make out a satyr’s frosted beard in the snow that remained on the Peak all year long.
A black-and-white speckled kitten she’d dubbed Holstein crawled out of the nest of drowsy siblings and toppled over the edge of its box. Ella picked it up and set it on her lap with a gentle admonition not to interfere with the driving task at hand.
Wyoming Cinderella (Silhouette Desire) Page 2
