His New Nanny

by Carla Cassidy

  She frowned, realizing she was grasping at straws. It was difficult to seriously imagine a woman who baked sugar cookies being capable of stabbing a woman to death. Besides, Helen was an elderly woman, surely she wouldn’t have had the strength to attack Erica.

  But Amanda had seen her hack up a chicken with a minimum of effort. She’d seen Helen’s strong forearms as she rolled out pie dough. She sighed, recognizing that every person she met was a potential suspect. What must it be like for Sawyer, who had to suspect every friend he held dear.

  Amanda raised her face to the sun. As always, the thought of Erica’s murder sent a bone-shivering chill through her. The murder had been brutal. Erica had been stabbed multiple times, indicating a hatred, a rage that had been out of control.

  She was just about to go back inside when Lillian appeared at the edge of the woods that separated the Bennett house from the Cordells. She waved as she approached where Amanda had sunk back in her chair in surprise.

  “You look like a wood nymph,” Amanda exclaimed as Lillian reached her.

  Lillian laughed. “There’s a path through the woods between the houses. I felt like a walk and thought I’d come over for a visit.”

  Amanda smiled and gestured toward the chair Helen had recently vacated. “I’ve just been sitting enjoying the peace and quiet.”

  “Where’s Melanie?”

  “Sawyer took her to a movie.”

  “And you didn’t go?” Lillian reached out and took one of the last cookies from the platter and bit into it with an audible sigh of pleasure.

  “I thought it would be nice for them to spend some time alone together,” Amanda replied.

  “Tough week?”

  Amanda released a dry laugh. “That would be an understatement.” She sighed, her smile dropping from her lips. “It’s just difficult knowing that at any moment a knock on the door could mean Sawyer’s arrest.”

  Lillian took a moment to chew the cookie, then brushed the crumbs from her lap. “I heard they found the murder weapon here on the property.”

  Amanda sat up straighter in the chair. “Where did you hear that? I didn’t know that information had been released to the public.”

  It was Lillian’s turn to laugh drily. “Honey, Conja Creek might be a town of affluent, privileged people but underneath the civilized surface beats the heart of a small town, and there’s nothing a small town loves more than juicy gossip.” She reached for another of the cookies and continued, “I heard it from Suzette when she was doing my hair. I think her son works as a dispatcher or something at the sheriff’s office.”

  “They dug up a knife next to the shed. They’re waiting for lab results to determine if it was the murder weapon, but Sawyer and I are certain it is.”

  “How’s he dealing with things?”

  Amanda stared off into the distance, then looked back at Lillian. “He’s dealing with everything as best he can. Jackson Burdeaux came by on Wednesday and he and Sawyer holed up for most of the day.”

  “Now there’s a piece of work,” Lillian exclaimed.

  “Who? Jackson? He seemed very nice.” Amanda thought of the criminal defense attorney. Dark hair and handsome as the devil, he’d had warm gray eyes that had instantly put Amanda at ease.

  “Don’t let his good-ol’-boy Southern charm fool you. The man is a cunning shark in the courtroom.”

  “Good,” Amanda said fervently. “That’s exactly what Sawyer needs, a shark who can keep an innocent man out of prison.”

  “Anything else new?” Lillian asked.

  Amanda thought about telling her that Melanie had finally spoken, but then decided not to. After all, it had only been a couple of words and she hadn’t said anything since then. “No, not really.”

  “And you two didn’t learn anything the night you went to Cajun Country?”

  “No, the bartender told me that Erica had stopped coming in there several months before her death.” Amanda leaned forward, gazing at Lillian intently. “You and Erica were so close. Are you sure she never told you who she was sleeping with?”

  “Erica told me a lot of her secrets. I knew when she spent money she wasn’t supposed to spend, when she shamelessly flirted with a man she shouldn’t. I knew she sometimes drank too much and loved to have sex in places where the chance of getting caught was high. She once had a lover in my studio when I was at the store. She bragged about it later but refused to tell me who the man was. She’d never tell me names of her lovers. That was a secret she absolutely refused to share.”

  “It’s a secret I’d love to know. Sawyer and I both think that whoever she was sleeping with at the time of her death is her killer. It was obviously a crime of passion. She wasn’t just killed, it was overkill.” Amanda fought against a new chill.

  Lillian visibly shivered, as if the cold that had gripped Amanda’s heart had somehow transferred to her. “You know what really freaks me out?”

  “What’s that?”

  “That somebody I probably know is a murderer. That somebody, a friend or a neighbor, had the capacity to do that to Erica.” Tears filled Lillian’s eyes. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She had faults, yes, but she shouldn’t have died.”

  Amanda reached across the table and covered one of Lillian’s hands with hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been talking about this.”

  Lillian shook her head and squeezed her eyes tightly closed, then gulped air and looked at Amanda. “No, it’s all right. We have to figure out who did this. I’m just afraid…” She pulled her hand from Amanda’s and let her voice trail off.

  “Afraid of what?”

  Lillian looked out toward the swamp, toward the place where her best friend had been murdered. When she looked back at Amanda, her gaze was troubled. “I hate to even say it out loud,” she said, her voice a faint whisper.

  “Say what?”

  She hesitated and when she finally spoke again her voice was still a mere whisper. “I’m beginning to think that Sawyer did it. I’m beginning to think that Sawyer killed Erica.”

  THE NIGHT-LIGHT CAST a silvery glow in Melanie’s bedroom. Amanda sat on the edge of the bed, watching the little girl as she slept.

  It had been a busy Sunday. Sawyer had invited half a dozen of his friends and supporters to dinner. James and Lillian had been there, as had Jackson Burdeaux and Sawyer’s business partner, Adam Kincaid, and his wife, Stella.

  Although the food had been excellent and the conversation benign and pleasant, Amanda had been unable to shake the feeling that somehow this was their Last Supper. She thought that Sawyer had decided to call together the important people in his life because he knew his freedom was quickly coming to an end.

  She now drew a deep breath, taking in the little-girl scent of Melanie. With each day that passed, she knew it would be more and more difficult to tell Melanie goodbye. And more and more difficult to say goodbye to Sawyer.

  She’d spent the past twenty-four hours thinking about Lillian’s startling whispered confession. Although she’d tried to get Lillian to tell her why she doubted Sawyer’s innocence, Lillian had stubbornly changed the subject.

  Funny, Lillian’s doubts had done nothing to shake Amanda’s belief in Sawyer’s innocence. Her belief in him and his innocence only grew stronger the more she got to know him. Each night when the two of them talked he shared pieces of himself that let her know what kind of man he was, and he was a good man, an honorable man.

  Knowing that Melanie was sound asleep, she stood and stretched with her arms overhead, the book she’d been reading to Melanie still clutched in one hand. She was tired, but still needed to go downstairs and check in with Sawyer.

  She moved to the bookshelf and reached up to the top shelf, where a pink-and-white photo box worked as a bookend to hold up a small collection of books. As she nudged the book in with the others, she bumped the box, which toppled to the floor.

  She shot a glance to Melanie but apparently the sound hadn’t awakened her. Thank goodness
, she thought as she knelt to pick up the contents that had spilled out.

  Obviously, the box hadn’t contained photos. The first item she grabbed was a gold cigarette lighter. In the pale illumination from the night-light she stared at the items in confusion. It was kind of like peering into somebody’s junk drawer. Besides the lighter there was a silver chain that appeared to be a man’s bracelet. Matchbooks and a brass candle-holder nestled next to an empty gold picture frame and a monogrammed towel.

  Amanda’s heart pounded. This wasn’t something that belonged to an eight-year-old girl. These items weren’t things that Melanie had saved in the box then placed on the highest shelf in the room.

  This container belonged to Erica and had been hidden in plain sight, in a pretty pink-and-white box that matched the decor in her daughter’s room.

  Souvenirs? Was it possible these items were souvenirs from Erica’s affairs? That was the only thing that made sense.

  With a galloping heartbeat, she placed the lid back on, then picked up the container and carried it out of the room.

  Maybe by looking through the items they could figure out who Erica had been sleeping with. Maybe inside the container was the clue that would finally lead them to a murderer. Her heart raced just a little faster.

  She hurried down the stairs to find Sawyer. Most evenings at this time he was in his office, but tonight he wasn’t there.

  She found him in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and staring out the back window as if in a daze. “Sawyer?”

  He turned to look at her. “What have you got there?”

  Setting the container down on the table, she smiled. For the first time since she’d arrived hope filled her up. “I think maybe I found what we were looking for when we searched Erica’s room. I think she kept keepsakes of her affairs, and they’re in here.” She thumped the top of the box with her fingers.

  He stood and moved to stand next to her, his gaze riveted on the container. “Where did you find it?”

  “On the top bookshelf in Melanie’s room. I was putting the book away that I’d read to her earlier and accidentally knocked it off the shelf.” She smiled apologetically. “My natural nosiness got the best of me so I looked through the contents.”

  “Thank God for that nosiness. Let’s see what’s inside.” Tension made his voice deeper than usual.

  Amanda pulled open the lid and watched as Sawyer got his first look at the contents. His features displayed no emotion as he picked up first one item, then another.

  “Anything look familiar?” she asked.

  He frowned and picked up the gold cigarette lighter. A large silver star decorated one side. “This looks kind of familiar, but I’m not sure where I’ve seen it before. At least a half a dozen of my friends and acquaintances are smokers.”

  He set the lighter down and grabbed a small picture frame decorated with hearts and flowers. “I’m sure I’ve seen this somewhere before but I don’t know where.” He grabbed one of the match-books. “The Night Owl Motel. Not exactly a five-star establishment.”

  “But maybe we could go there and ask some questions, see if the clerk remembers Erica and whoever she might have been with.”

  “I guess it’s worth a try.” He rummaged around and picked up a total of four matchbooks from four different motels. “Maybe somebody at one of these places will remember something.” He grabbed the monogrammed hand towel with the initials WWW.

  “You know anyone that might belong to?” she asked.

  He traced the raised black lettering with the tip of his index finger. “WWW. World Wide Web?” he said half-jokingly.

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s what it stands for,” she replied.

  He shook his head. “Offhand I can’t think of anybody I know with those initials.”

  Amanda grabbed Sawyer’s arm, excitement flooding through her. “This is it, Sawyer. Surely this is what we’ve been searching for, what we’ve needed. We have something now, something we can investigate, something that I’m sure will lead us to the guilty party.”

  His eyes glowed with the first hope she’d seen all week. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe the answer to who killed Erica is inside this pretty box.” He covered her hand with his, and the warmth of his touch shot straight through to her heart.

  “I brought you here for Melanie, but I’m not sure what I would have done without you for the past two weeks,” he said. With his free hand he reached up and touched her cheek. “Somehow you’ve managed to keep me sane through the worst days of my life.”

  She turned her face into the palm of his hand. She’d been hungry for his touch since the night they’d shared that single, searing kiss.

  It took only one look at his face to see his hunger, and she knew he intended to kiss her again. And she wanted his kiss. Even knowing there was no real permanent place for her here. Even knowing she was probably just a convenience for him, a temporary fix against loneliness.

  When his mouth crashed down on hers, she accepted the kiss with a hunger of her own. As his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close against him, she twined her fingers into his hair, loving the way the silky strands felt against her fingertips.

  He held her close enough to mold their bodies together, close enough that she could feel he was aroused. Tomorrow Lucas Jamison might knock on the door and Sawyer would be taken away and possibly never return again.

  But tonight he was here with her, and she told herself that a single night with him would be enough, that she could live with this night and the promise of nothing more.

  He deepened his kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth with delicious intent. She met the thrust of his tongue with her own, her heart crashing in a rhythm of half-forgotten desire.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted a man as she did him. The intensity of her desire half frightened her. It wasn’t the spell of Conja Creek that thickened her blood and raced her pulse, rather it was the spell of Sawyer.

  He broke the kiss with a gasp and dropped his hands to his sides. His eyes gleamed with the wildness of a primal forest as he gazed at her. “I want you, Amanda. I want you in my bed, naked in my arms. But it wouldn’t be fair.”

  “To who? Who wouldn’t it be fair to, Sawyer? To you? If you want me, then it can’t be wrong to have me. To me? I understand the risks. I know that we can make love tonight, and tomorrow I may have to pack my bags and leave. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  His gaze searched her face as if looking for doubt, for hesitation. She knew he would find none. He held out his hand to her and she grasped it, and together, without saying another word, they walked toward the stairs.

  How many mistakes could you make in one lifetime? she wondered as they climbed the stairs, then walked the long hallway to the master bedroom.

  Certainly her relationship with Scott had been a major mistake. She’d thought him to be a strong, honorable man who loved her but he’d shown himself to be a weak coward who had run when her world had begun to crumble.

  Sawyer tightened his grip on her hand as they reached the door to his bedroom. She’d misjudged the man Scott had been, and somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that, if she’d misjudged Sawyer, as well, then it was possible she was about to make love to a man who had committed murder.

  Chapter Eight

  Where Erica’s room had been an explosion of color and energy, Sawyer’s bedroom held a subtle masculinity. A black-and-gray spread covered the king-size bed, and massive dark wood nightstands stood sentry on either side.

  A single lamp burned on one of the nightstands, casting shadows on the walls of the room as they stepped inside. Sawyer dropped her hand and faced her, his features radiating his want but also a calm acceptance of whatever might happen.

  “It’s not too late for you to go to your own room,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’ll understand. You found that box of Erica’s things. Our emotions flew out of control.”

  The fact that he was gi
ving her an opportunity to change her mind, to save face and make a hasty exit, only made her want him more. She stepped closer to him and placed her hand on his jaw, enjoying the faint brush of whiskers beneath her palm.

  “I don’t want to go back to my room,” she replied, her voice thick with her own emotion. “I want to be with you, Sawyer.”

  The words barely left her before his mouth crashed down on hers once again and the hunger that had simmered inside her for him exploded out of control.

  He pulled her against him, his mouth ravishing hers as his hands caressed her back and cupped her buttocks. When he drew her hips into his, she gasped with the knowledge that he was fully aroused.

  The kiss seemed to last a lifetime, and yet when he pulled his mouth from hers she felt bereft, as if the kiss hadn’t lasted nearly long enough.

  She grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, wanting it off him, needing to feel the strength and warmth of his bare chest against hers. He accommodated her, ripping the shirt up and over his head.

  As he walked to the side of the bed and pulled down the spread, she unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor as he turned back to look at her, and his eyes glowed with a heat she felt from her head to her toes.

  “You are beautiful,” he said.

  Amanda had never thought of herself as beautiful. She knew she was reasonably attractive, but nothing exceptional. But beneath his gaze she felt beautiful. He made her feel sexy and feminine, desired in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

  They removed the rest of their clothes and fell onto the bed, legs and arms atangle as lips met in another fiery kiss. As his hands cupped her breasts, her nipples rose to meet his touch and she moaned with pleasure.

  Every nerve in her body was electrified as his mouth left hers and rained soft, nipping kisses along her jawline and down the length of her neck.