His New Nanny

by Carla Cassidy

  “I don’t know how much time I’ll have to shop or do lunch,” Amanda replied. “My number-one priority is, of course, Melanie.”

  “As it should be,” Lillian replied. “But surely you’ll have some time off.” She turned her attention to Sawyer. “You mustn’t be a slave driver, Sawyer.”

  “I have no intention of that,” he replied. “Amanda and I will work out an agreeable schedule that I’m sure will allow her to do whatever it is you ladies like to do in your spare time.”

  “Shop,” James said, once again casting an affectionate gaze at his wife. “That’s what my Lilly likes to do.”

  “And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied with a laugh.

  As Amanda watched the loving interplay between James and Lillian, she felt a pang of wistfulness. She’d thought she’d had that kind of relationship with Scott, but when her life had fallen apart he’d run as fast as he could from her.

  “Conja Creek. It’s an interesting name,” Amanda said.

  “Conja is Cajun and it means to put a spell on,” Sawyer replied.

  “Legend has it that the creek bewitches people, puts a spell on them and they never want to leave,” Lillian said. “Personally, the creek hasn’t gotten to me. I could move out of here tomorrow if my dear husband would. I’d love the hustle and bustle of Shreveport.”

  “Ah, but remember, here you’re a big fish in a little pond and in Shreveport you’d be a little fish in a big pond,” James teased.

  Dinner might have been pleasant if Amanda hadn’t been so aware of the simmering tension that seemed to be in the air around Sawyer. More than once throughout the meal she felt his gaze lingering on her, making her incredibly self-conscious and ill at ease.

  It was after eight when the Cordells finally left and Sawyer led Amanda into his study. “I’ll be right back. I need to check on Melanie,” he said, and left her alone in the room.

  A large desk dominated the space with what appeared to be a state-of-the-art computer on top. Several overstuffed chairs sat in front of the desk. Amanda sank into one of them, fighting the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her.

  As she waited for Sawyer she looked around the room. One of the walls was decorated with framed photographs of buildings and homes. She assumed he’d been the architect on the projects.

  Another wall held personal pictures, and she stood and moved closer to get a better view of these. There were several of Melanie. They looked to be school portraits, each one showing her a little older.

  Then there were a couple of photographs of Sawyer, the woman who must have been his wife and Melanie. The woman was beautiful, a brunette with exotic dark eyes and lush lips. On the surface the photos depicted a happy family, but as Amanda studied the subtle body language, she saw a distance between husband and wife.

  A distance that had resulted in murder?

  There was one other picture that Amanda instantly recognized. Her brother had one just like it hanging on the wall in his office. The photo was of six young men, their arms slung around each other in easy friendship.

  Amanda knew it had been taken in college. “The Brotherhood,” Johnny had told her when she’d asked about it. He’d explained that the Brotherhood had been a group of young, wealthy men all from Conja Creek.

  Johnny, who hadn’t been from Conja Creek and had been at the college on a scholarship had been welcomed into the fold when he’d been assigned a room with Jackson Burdeaux, one of the men in the photo.

  She sat in the chair again once more wondering if she had done the right thing in coming here. Certainly Lillian and James Cordell had seemed like respectable, decent people. Surely if they thought Sawyer Bennett had killed his wife they wouldn’t be coming over for dinner.

  She straightened in the chair, tension coiling in her stomach as Sawyer returned to the room. Each time she saw him she was struck again by the attractiveness of his bold features, his chiseled jaw and thick black hair.

  “I think it would be easiest if I tell you my expectations. Then if you have a problem we can discuss it.” His firm tone made her suspect he was not a man who was accustomed to having his authority questioned.

  She nodded and waited for him to continue. He moved behind the desk and sat, his gaze direct and focused on her. “I need you to be here Monday through Friday from the time Melanie wakes up until she goes to bed. I have an office in Baton Rouge and will be driving back and forth on those days. You can have the weekends off.” A smile curved the corners of his lips. “You’ll be free to run the streets of Conja Creek with Lillian.”

  The magnetism of his smile caused a small ball of heat to ignite in the pit of her stomach. The smile was there only a moment, then gone. “What Melanie needs right now more than anything is routine and consistency. She needs somebody she can count on, somebody she can trust, and I’m hoping you can be that person for her.”

  She nodded. They had already discussed salary in their e-mail conversations, so nothing he’d said so far was a surprise. “I’m hoping Melanie and I will become the best of friends.”

  He stood as if to dismiss her. “We’ll take things on a day-to-day basis. I won’t keep you this evening. I know it’s been a long day for you, and Melanie is an early riser. One last thing. My daughter is afraid of the dark. There’s a night-light in her room. Make sure it’s turned on each night when she goes to bed.”

  She got up from her chair, aware that she was being dismissed. “Before I leave, there’s something I’d like to ask you. I understand that Melanie quit speaking two months ago. Can you tell me under what circumstances this happened?”

  He walked around the desk and moved to stand before her…too close…invading her space. His green eyes gleamed with a hard light as his lips once again curved into a smile, this one not so pleasant.

  “Haven’t you heard?” he asked, and one of his dark brows quirked upward. “Melanie stopped speaking on the night that I murdered her mother.”

  Chapter Two

  Sawyer saw the lift of her chin that displayed a touch of bravado, which was incongruent with the loss of color from her face. She was a pretty woman, with her soft brown hair and guileless blue eyes. She smelled like jasmine, and he felt a stirring deep inside him as he breathed in her fragrance.

  “If you’re trying to shock me, then you’ve failed,” she said. “I stopped at a café on my way here and heard all the rumors about your being responsible for your wife’s murder.”

  “Then why did you come? Why didn’t you high-tail it out of here when you heard the rumors?”

  Some of the color was slowly returning to her cheeks. “Because Melanie needs somebody. Because my brother told me you’re a good man.”

  The knot of tension that had been in his chest for weeks eased somewhat at her words. He’d always believed he was a good man, but Erica’s murder had turned him into somebody he scarcely recognized.

  “I didn’t kill her.” The words came from him without passion. “But I need to know how strong you are, if you can withstand the rumors, the absolute ugliness this has brought into this house, into my life. I don’t want Melanie to get attached, then you wind up running because you can’t take the heat.”

  Her chin tilted upward once again. “I have no intention of going anywhere until you tell me to go.”

  He nodded, satisfied with her answer, at least for the moment. “The investigation into Erica’s death is ongoing. I will tell you that I’m the primary suspect right now.”

  “You said that Melanie stopped speaking that night. Could you tell me what happened? It would help me to understand her a little better.”

  Frantic worry stabbed through him as he thought of his daughter. What had she seen that night from her bedroom window? If she finally started speaking again, what would she be able to tell the authorities?

  “I can’t tell you exactly what happened. All I know is the night of Erica’s murder I had fallen asleep right here in my office chair and a scream woke me. I knew instantly
that it was Melanie. I raced upstairs and into her bedroom and found her standing in front of the window. She was sobbing and shaking so hard she could barely speak. She pointed out the window and said, ‘Mommy’s gone.’”

  Amanda’s face reflected the horror he’d felt that night as he continued. “I looked out the window to where she was pointing. There was a full moon that night, and on the dock I could see one of Erica’s shoes and the lightweight wrap she often pulled on when she was going outside. I thought she’d fallen off the dock and into the swamp water. It wasn’t until I ran down there to see if I could find her that I saw the blood and knew it hadn’t been a simple fall.”

  He drew a deep breath, feeling the need for a drink, wanting to numb himself against the memories, both of Erica’s life and her death.

  “So, you don’t know what Melanie saw?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know exactly what she saw, but it frightened her so badly it stole her ability to talk. She hasn’t said a single word since that night.”

  Suddenly exhausted, he moved toward the door. All he wanted at the moment was a drink, then to sleep without dreams. And he needed to get away from Ms. Amanda Rockport with her pleasing scent and cupid lips that reminded him it had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the pleasure of a woman. He’d stopped sleeping with Erica long before her death two months ago.

  “As you can see, there’s a computer in here. Feel free to use it during the hours I’m gone if you want to keep up with e-mail or whatever. If you need something for Melanie, just let me know and we’ll get it. There’s a phone in your room with a separate number from the house phone for your convenience.” He rattled off the number, then gestured her out of the office. “And now, unless you have other questions, it’s been a long day.”

  She walked in front of him, her slender hips swaying slightly beneath the navy dress she wore. “Will I see you in the morning?” she asked as she paused at the foot of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms.

  “Probably not. I’ll leave early to drive into Baton Rouge for a day at the office. I’ll be home for dinner. If you need anything or have questions, Helen, our cook, will be able to help you.”

  “Then I guess I’ll just say good-night,” she replied.

  He stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched her ascend. Something about her looked fragile, a shadow in her eyes, a touch of sadness to her features.

  He hoped she was stronger than she looked, because he needed somebody strong and determined to stand by Melanie. He needed somebody who wouldn’t be chased away by rumors and a murder case that seemed to point a finger at nobody but him.

  When she’d disappeared from his sight, he returned to his office and pulled a bottle of Scotch and a glass from his bottom drawer. He poured a liberal amount, then sat back in his chair and took a sip, enjoying the smooth warmth that slid down his throat.

  This was what he’d done on the night of Erica’s murder. He’d sat in here and had drunk Scotch and seethed and stewed. He’d imagined his life without her, and the vision had been pleasing.

  He’d been sick of her lies, the cheating and the knowledge that, not only was she tired of playing wife, she’d been tired of playing mommy. It had been that night that he’d made the decision to get her out of his life.

  He now downed the Scotch and got up from the chair. He shut off the light in the office, then walked to the living room and stepped out of the French doors that led to the stone patio.

  The moon had been full that night, and it was full again tonight. From this vantage point he could see the dock extending out over the glittering swamp. The hanging moss from the cypress trees appeared like gigantic silvery webs spun by gargantuan spiders.

  The swamp was never silent. Insects buzzed and clicked a nighttime melody that had become as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.

  His thoughts went back to the woman he’d invited into his home, into his daughter’s life. Amanda Rockport wasn’t what he’d been expecting. She was prettier than he’d imagined, not that he had any interest in pursuing anything romantic with her. She was his daughter’s nanny and nothing else.

  He smiled with a touch of bitterness. Now wouldn’t that just set the local tongues wagging. He could just hear them speculating that he’d gotten rid of one woman to make room for another.

  His smile faded. The way things were looking, he wouldn’t have time to stir up more rumors or start a relationship. The way things were looking, it was very possible he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison for Erica’s murder.

  DESPITE THE LONG DRIVE the day before and the equally long evening, Amanda awakened early the next morning. The stress of a new place and a new bed to get used to hadn’t stopped her from sleeping well. She got out of bed and padded over to the window where the sun had yet to climb completely above the tops of the trees.

  Vapor rose from the water, shrouding the swamp in a haunting mist. Kansas City, Missouri, didn’t have these kinds of views. It was a sober reminder to her that she was far away from home and dependent on a man who may or may not have murdered his wife.

  She shook her head as if to dislodge this thought and instead left the window and crept through the bathroom and paused at Melanie’s bedroom doorway.

  The little girl was asleep, burrowed beneath the pink ruffled bedspread with only the top of her head showing. Amanda softly closed the door of the bathroom, then took a quick shower.

  When she was finished and dressed in a pair of jeans and a light blue T-shirt, it was just after seven. She checked in on Melanie once again. Seeing that she was still asleep, Amanda crept down the stairs.

  There were two things she wanted…coffee and information and not necessarily in that order. Assuming that Sawyer had already left, she went into his office. Even though he’d given her permission to use the computer, she felt like an intruder as she sat in his chair and punched the power button.

  As she waited for the computer to boot up she was aware of the scent of him lingering in the room. A combination of earthy cologne, of shaving cream and the underlying wisp of some kind of alcohol.

  Last night she’d wanted to ask him more questions about the murder, but there had been something slightly forbidding in his eyes.

  When the computer was up and running she went to a search engine and punched in the words Erica Bennett and murder. The search yielded half a dozen results, all from the Conja Creek Gazette.

  The first article she pulled up was the initial report of the murder. It was brief, telling only that the body of Erica Bennett had been pulled out of the swamp and foul play was suspected.

  The second article detailed the crime more completely. Erica Bennett had been stabbed six times before being shoved or falling into the swamp. She had been pregnant at the time of her murder. Sawyer Bennett was being questioned about the death of his wife. The rest of the articles indicated the investigation was ongoing and no arrests had been made.

  Amanda leaned back in the chair, stunned by the knowledge that Erica had been stabbed, and equally surprised that she’d been pregnant. So Sawyer hadn’t only lost his wife, but he’d lost an unborn child, as well.

  She shut down the computer, her mind whirling as she headed for the kitchen to find a cup of coffee. Helen stood at the stove. Her eyes narrowed slightly as Amanda entered the room.

  “If you’ll take a seat in the dining room, I’ll serve you breakfast,” she said, no trace of friendliness in her voice.

  “I’m not much of a breakfast eater and I’m not a guest. I work here, so I’ll just have my coffee in here.” She pointed to the round oak kitchen table.

  “Suit yourself,” Helen replied, pulling a cup from the cabinet. She filled it with coffee, then set it in front of Amanda at the table.

  Amanda slid into one of the chairs and watched the old woman as she began to peel carrots at the sink. “Have you worked here a long time, Helen?” she asked.

  “Long enough,” Helen replied, offering no more information. Am
anda took a sip of the coffee and stared out the window, where again she could see the place where Erica Bennett had lost her life.

  “So, you knew Erica?” she finally asked.

  “If you want gossip you’ve come to the wrong place.” Helen turned to look at her. “I don’t carry tales, and even if I did, I don’t know you well enough to talk about personal things. For all I know you’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “I have no intention of going anywhere,” Amanda countered.

  Helen’s gray eyes studied her coldly. “Time will tell. Death came calling at this house and I got a feeling in my bones that bad things are still to come. I figure you’ll be out of here within a week.” She turned back to the sink.

  Amanda took another drink of her coffee. She’d hoped to make an ally of Helen, but it appeared that wasn’t going to happen. She was truly on her own.

  At that moment Melanie came into the kitchen. Still clad in her pajamas, her dark hair sleep tousled, she offered Amanda a shy smile, then slid into the chair opposite her at the table.

  “There’s my darlin’,” Helen said, her gaze warm as it lingered on Melanie. “How about some French toast this morning?”

  So the old woman had a soft spot, and that spot seemed to be Melanie, Amanda mused. Perhaps her unfriendliness toward Amanda was because she was afraid Amanda would get close to Melanie, then leave.

  “Did you sleep well?” Amanda asked Melanie. Melanie nodded. “After you eat breakfast and get dressed, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do today.”

  The day passed surprisingly quickly. After breakfast and getting Melanie washed and dressed for the day, the two of them played an educational game that Amanda had brought with her.

  Even though Melanie didn’t say a word, Amanda recognized that the child was bright and had a good sense of humor. She also noticed that Melanie was eager to please, and when she did something wrong she flinched, as if anticipating a blow.

  It concerned Amanda and she made a note to discuss it with Sawyer. Lunch was a picnic on the back patio. After they ate, they went for a walk, where Amanda kept up a running commentary about the bugs they encountered.