by Irene Hannon
“There’s no such thing as a free lunch, boy. You have to work for what you want.”
So Adam had done just that, doing odd jobs around the neighborhood until he’d earned enough money for his bike. And that was generally the way life had worked for him ever since. Which was why he found it hard to believe that this woman’s offer came without any strings attached. Despite what the attorney had said.
Still…he did need help with Nicole. And financially he wasn’t in a position to hire a full-time nanny. So wasn’t Clare Randall’s offer at least worth exploring?
Before he could change his mind, Adam reached for the phone and punched in her number. She answered on the first ring, almost as if she’d been sitting by the phone.
“Ms. Randall? This is Adam Wright. I wanted to follow up on our conversation yesterday. I took your advice and spoke with Seth Mitchell, and he verified that your offer is legitimate.”
He paused, and when Clare spoke he could hear the trepidation in her voice. “I sense a ‘but’ coming,” she said cautiously.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I seem a little suspicious, but frankly I keep wondering, what’s the catch?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if I accept your offer, it will totally disrupt your life for six months. I just can’t understand why you’d go through that.”
“I’m not going to inherit a million dollars, or anything close to it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Clare said stiffly. “This isn’t a TV reality show, Dr. Wright.”
She seemed insulted by his question, but Adam didn’t think it was completely out of line. She was a total stranger, and he wasn’t entirely sure about her motivations. Something just didn’t feel quite right to him. Then again, maybe it was his problem, he acknowledged. He was so used to paying his own way that maybe he was just uncomfortable accepting anything as a gift.
“Look, Dr. Wright, would it make you more comfortable if we met face to face?” Clare offered when Adam didn’t respond.
He could hear a touch of impatience—or was it desperation?—in her voice. “Maybe,” he conceded slowly.
“Then why don’t I come down?”
He glanced again at the area code. “Where do you live?”
“Kansas City.”
“That’s a long trip. And I can’t make any promises.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
If she was willing to make the effort to come down, how could he refuse to meet with her? And what did he have to lose, except an hour or two of his time?
“Okay. Let’s try that.”
Clare had a couple of substitute teaching assignments to fulfill, so they agreed to meet on a Saturday in mid-November.
“I’ll see you then,” Clare said as she hung up, already making a mental list of all the things she needed to do to prepare for a six-month absence from Kansas City.
Because even though Adam Wright seemed to have some qualms about accepting her offer, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: One way or another, she would find a way to convince the good doctor that she was exactly what he needed.
Chapter Two
Clare let her car slowly roll to a stop, set the brake and peered through the passenger’s-side window at Adam Wright’s house. Located at the edge of town, on the side of a hill near the end of a country lane, it was just as he’d described it—a two-story white clapboard with forest-green shutters and a large front porch. It was set on a spacious lot shaded by large trees, and a detached garage was just visible to the right, about fifty feet behind the house. When she turned to look out the driver’s-side window, she saw a valley filled with fields and patches of woodland. Blue-hazed mountains were visible in the distance, their wooded slopes ablaze with fall color. It was a lovely, peaceful setting—and completely at odds with her emotional state.
Clare nervously withdrew her compact from her purse and studied her face. Despite her best efforts to artfully apply some blush, she still seemed pale. She also looked tired, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. She’d driven straight through from Kansas City, arriving last night about ten. Though she’d been exhausted from the long journey, jitters about today’s meeting had kept sleep at bay. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, then risen at dawn in anticipation of her nine o’clock meeting with Dr. Wright. The stress and lack of sleep had clearly taken their toll on her appearance.
After one final, dismayed look, she dropped the compact back in her purse and opened her door. This was as good as it was going to get, she acknowledged with a sigh. Maybe Adam Wright wasn’t the observant type, she thought as she made her way toward the front porch.
All such hopes quickly vanished, however, when the front door opened in response to the doorbell. In the seconds before he greeted her, the blue-jean-clad man gave her a swift but thorough perusal that was insightful, assessing—and unnerving. She saw surprise in his eyes—and caution. And even before he said a word, she sensed that something about her appearance had raised a red flag. Nervously she smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of her skirt and adjusted the strap on her shoulder purse.
As Adam scrutinized his visitor, he struggled to keep his face impassive. Seth Mitchell had described Clare Randall as a widowed schoolteacher. But the elegant, fashionably clad woman on his doorstep was far from the older, matronly type he’d somehow expected. His prospective nanny couldn’t possibly be even forty. And she was small. At five foot ten, he didn’t consider himself to be especially tall, but she seemed petite beside him. It wasn’t that she was short. She had to be about five foot five. But she was very slender; so slender that the fine, classic bone structure of her face was startlingly evident. She was also lovely. Her honey-gold hair was pulled back into a chignon, and her slightly parted lips looked soft. Despite her beauty, he caught a glimpse of a haunting sadness in the depths of her large, azure-blue eyes that stirred something deep in his heart.
She was dressed beautifully, as well. While he wasn’t too knowledgeable about clothes, he did know quality when he saw it. His wife had always bought expensive things, so he recognized the designer touch in Clare Randall’s attire. Especially the discreet Gucci logo on her handbag.
The woman obviously had money. Which made her willingness to go along with Jo’s stipulation even more suspicious.
While Adam assessed her, Clare looked him over, as well. The doctor appeared to be about forty, with dark-brown hair that was touched with silver at the temples. Even though she wore two-inch heels, he was still several inches taller than her. And obviously in good shape. His worn jeans hugged his lean hips, and his sweatshirt couldn’t disguise his broad shoulders or the solid expanse of his chest.
She completed her rapid scan at his eyes. They were deep brown—and they’d narrowed imperceptibly since he’d opened the door. A slight frown had also appeared on his face. Not good signs. Clare felt the knot in her stomach tighten.
“Clare Randall, I presume?” He had a deep, well-modulated voice that Clare would have found appealing under other circumstances. Now she was all too conscious of the subtle note of caution in his tone.
“Yes. Dr. Wright?”
He held out his hand, and Clare’s delicate fingers were swallowed in his firm grip. “Guilty. Please come in.” He stepped aside for her to enter, then nodded to his right. “We can talk in the living room.”
As he led the way, Clare looked around the spacious room with an appreciative eye. It was a lovely space, with high ceilings, tall windows and a large fireplace. It had great possibilities…but unfortunately, none of its potential had been realized. While the living room was meticulously clean, it was sparsely furnished. The leather couch and chair were completely out of sync with the character of the house, and the contemporary coffee table was bare. So were the walls. There were shades at the windows, but no window treatments to soften the austerity.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
Adam took the chair as Clare perched on the edge of the couch. From her rigid
posture, he could only assume that she was as uncomfortable with this whole situation as he was.
“May I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks. That’s not one of my vices.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite get her stiff lips to cooperate.
Clare’s obvious tension reminded Adam of patients with white-coat syndrome. The minute they stepped inside his office their blood pressure skyrocketed and they got the shakes. There was no medical explanation for it. But that didn’t make it any less real. Through the years he’d worked hard to put such patients at ease, finding that casual small talk sometimes helped. So it was worth a try with his visitor. He purposely leaned back in his chair and crossed an ankle over a knee, keeping his posture relaxed and open.
“Did you have a good trip?”
“Yes. It took a little longer than I thought, but the scenery is lovely.”
“When did you leave?”
“About six yesterday morning.”
He frowned. “Did you drive straight through?”
“Yes. As I said, it took a little longer than I thought.”
“You must be exhausted.”
She shrugged. “I’ve been more tired.”
He studied her for a moment. The light from the window was falling directly on her face, and he could see the faint shadows under her eyes—which he suspected she’d carefully tried to conceal. And despite her obviously fair complexion, she seemed pale.
“Did you have breakfast?”
She shook her head. She’d been way too nervous to face food. “Not yet. I’ll get something a little later.”
His gaze swept her slender figure. Make that too slender, he corrected himself. “You don’t look as though you can afford to skip too many meals, Ms. Randall.”
“Please call me Clare. And I’ve always been slender. But I’m very strong, Doctor, and certainly capable of tackling the nanny job.”
He hadn’t brought up her weight because of concerns about her capabilities, but clearly the job was on her mind. His attempt at small talk wasn’t working. So they might as well dive right in. “First of all, my name is Adam, not Doctor. Second, I have to tell you I’ve never hired a nanny before.”
“And I’ve never been one. So we’re even. But I’m sure I can handle the job. I’m a teacher, so I’m used to being around children.”
Adam raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Nicole isn’t exactly a typical child. My wife, Elaine, and I separated several years ago, and Nicole spent most of her time with her mother. When Elaine died a little over a year ago, Nicole came to live with me full-time. It quickly became apparent to me that she had less-than-desirable friends in St. Louis and seemed to be heading down the wrong path. I’m originally from North Carolina, and I thought moving away from the big city might help. But it hasn’t worked out as I’d hoped. She may have had the wrong friends in St. Louis, but she has no friends here. She barely tolerates me. And she hates life in a small town. So she can be very difficult to deal with. Frankly, I haven’t been able to keep a sitter for more than a few weeks.”
Clare frowned. The situation sounded a lot more complicated than she’d expected. But surely, at age eleven, there was still time for Nicole to turn her life around. “I’m certainly willing to do whatever I can to help.”
Adam leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “I guess the real question is why. Why do you want to put yourself into this situation? This isn’t a happy household, Clare.”
Clare swallowed. It might not be happy, but there was time to make things right. Time for a second chance. Which was something she hadn’t had with her own family. Clare realized that Adam was studying her intently, and shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. She needed to convince Adam that she would make a capable and competent nanny. She took a deep breath and looked back at him.
“I appreciate your honesty. But from everything you’ve told me, it sounds like you need a nanny even more than you realize,” she said.
“Maybe. But you haven’t answered my question. Why are you willing to do this?”
“I need the money.”
His gaze swept over her attire again, lingering on the logo on her handbag. When he looked up, she saw the skepticism in his eyes.
“Don’t let my clothes fool you, Doctor,” she said quietly. “This suit is several years old. The purse is even older. At one time I was in a position to buy expensive things. That’s no longer the case. Aunt Jo’s legacy will help me pay off some debts and get a new start. And I will do my best to earn it. I promise you that I will do everything I can to help you with your daughter. If it will make you feel more comfortable, I can supply some character references.”
Adam studied the woman across from him. He had no reason to doubt Clare’s story that she’d fallen on hard times. And as for a character reference, he couldn’t ask for anyone better than Jo—the very person who had sent Clare to his door. But the whole thing still struck him as odd. And somehow unfair to the woman across from him. Despite his thumbnail sketch of the situation, she had no idea what a mess she was stepping into. And he had a feeling she’d already seen enough trauma in her life. The echoes of it were still visible in the depths of her eyes. Which, for some odd reason, troubled him, even though she was a stranger.
“That’s not necessary,” he said. “But I’d like to…”
“Who are you?”
The two adults turned in unison toward the foyer. Nicole stood in the archway at the entrance to the living room, dressed in hip-hugging jeans and an abbreviated crop top. Her brown hair, worn parted in the middle, hung past her shoulders, the ragged blond ends suggesting that it had once been dyed. She was barefoot, and her toenails were painted iridescent purple.
“It’s not polite to interrupt a conversation,” Adam said with a frown.
Nicole shrugged insolently. “Whatever. We’re out of cereal. Again.”
The tension between father and daughter was apparent to Clare even in such a short exchange. Before Adam could respond, she smiled and addressed the young girl. “You must be Nicole.”
“Yeah. So why are you here? We never have company.”
“I had some business to discuss with your father.”
“Are you sick or something?”
Clare looked startled for a moment, then grinned. “I’m not a patient, if that’s what you mean.”
“Too bad. That’s the only thing he cares about.”
The remark was meant to cut, and if the sudden clenching of muscles in Adam’s jaw was any indication, his daughter had hit the mark. But Clare knew it was also a cry for help. And her heart went out to the lonely little girl.
“Oh, I don’t know. We weren’t discussing medicine,” she said, keeping her tone casual.
Nicole tilted her head and gave Clare an appraising glance. “So are you his girlfriend or something?”
“That’s enough, Nicole.”
Clare could hear anger in Adam’s voice. And frustration. Her heart went out to him, too. He was clearly in over his head with Nicole and clueless about how to control a prepubescent daughter.
“Actually, we just met,” Clare said mildly.
Nicole studied Clare for a moment. “I like your hair.”
“Thanks. But I was just admiring yours. It’s so long and full. You could do some really cool things with it.”
“Really? Like what?”
Clare considered Nicole for a moment. “Well, I think you’d look terrific in a French braid.”
Nicole stuck her hands in her pockets. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“It’s not hard. But it is easier if someone does it for you. Of course, you’d have to even out the ends a little first.”
“I haven’t cut my hair in a long time,” Nicole said skeptically.
“Well, you wouldn’t want to lose any length. Just cut it enough to smooth things out.” And get rid of the dyed ends, Clare added silently.
“Do you know ho
w to do a French braid?”
“Mm-hm. I used to do them for my sister, A.J., when we were younger. I’m sure there’s a salon in town that could do one for you so you could see if you liked it.”
“Maybe.” Nicole tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. “So…do you live here?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. Everybody here is such a hick. I bet you’re from a big city.”
“I live in Kansas City now. But I grew up on a farm in Ohio, out in the middle of nowhere. Hope Creek would have been a big city to us,” she said with a smile. “What I’ve found, though, is that most people are pretty nice anywhere you live if you give them a chance.”
Nicole grunted. “Not the kids at my school. They all…”
The sudden ringing of the phone interrupted her, and she turned to Adam with a long-suffering sigh. “It’s going to be for you.”
“Would you grab it and just take a message, please?”
She gave him a hostile look, then disappeared down the hall.
Clare turned to find Adam studying her. “Is something wrong?”
Slowly he shook his head. “I’m just trying to figure out how you managed to do that.”
“What?”
“Have a longer conversation with my daughter than I’ve had in more than a year.”
Clare shrugged. “I came without baggage. She obviously resents you, but she doesn’t have any feelings for me one way or the other. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.”
He dropped his voice. “So what do you think now that you’ve met her?”
Clare frowned. “She needs friends. And she needs her father.”
“The friends part I agree with. The father part… I’m not so sure. She pushes me away every time I try to get close to her.”
“She’s still grieving for her mother. And dealing with a lot of anger…about a lot of things. She’s probably mad at her mother for dying. Maybe she’s mad at God. She might be mad at life in general because it seems unfair. You’re convenient, so you get the brunt of her anger. And you’re an easy target, because you’re the authority figure. I’m sure she fights you every step of the way. But you know, even if kids don’t like rules, they need them.”
