So he did the only thing he could do. He changed the subject. “Shall we have dinner? Then I can show you the rest of the house and you can teach me how to make the formula.” Because he was going to have to learn it sometime and that was a concrete task that probably wouldn’t involve lingering touches or long looks. Hopefully.
Like the long look she gave him right then, punctuated only when she shifted Jane to her other hip. There was something in her eyes, as if she didn’t believe what he’d just suggested. “Yes,” she said after that measured gaze, “We shall.”
Five
Trish lay in bed, not sleeping. This house sounded different. She was used to the shuffling of Mrs. Chan over her head and the blaring of the evening news. But Nate’s house?
This place was quiet. Nearly silent. In the distance, a foghorn sounded.
She’d never had so much quiet. Funny how it felt loud. Was this why Nate lived here—he could hear himself think?
They’d gone up to the dining room, where the best danged chicken enchilada dinner she’d ever eaten had been waiting for them in a dining room that was not rated for kids. The table had ten chairs and was set upon a thick white shag rug. Trish had suggested that Nate remove the carpeting before Jane started eating solid foods.
And then there’d been the view. Not that she’d been able to see much in the fog, but Nate had said that the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that separated the dining room from the patio had an excellent view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Trish hadn’t had a view of anything but the sidewalk in five years. There was even a fenced-in yard with trees and grass. Nate had asked her if he should get a swing set or something for Jane. After that, Nate had showed her the media room and the home gym in the basement.
Trish didn’t belong here. This house, the food, everything about Nate was out of her league. Had she really felt like an interloper at San Francisco State University? Good lord. That was nothing compared to finding herself suddenly living in the absolute lap of luxury with a man who took such a vital interest in his niece’s welfare.
Trish’s current stepfather was a pretty good guy. He supported Pat and the kids still living at home and that counted for a hell of a lot. He’d even loaned Trish the $350 for her security deposit five years ago—and that had only been two years after he’d hooked up with Pat.
But there’d been so many men who’d passed through Pat’s and Trish’s lives and not one of them had ever taken an interest in the kids. Not someone else’s kids, not their own kids. Trish’s own father had abandoned them, for crying out loud.
To watch Nate try so hard—care so much—well, it spun her head around. One of the reasons she’d gone out of her way to avoid a relationship, and men in general, was because she didn’t want to be saddled raising a child on her own. She knew exactly what kind of sacrifices a baby would require and she was done making them for other people.
But Nate... He’d stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her in the kitchen and made up three bottles of formula until he’d gotten it right and he hadn’t complained at all. In fact, they’d wound up laughing together after his first attempt had resulted in something closer to a pancake batter than formula. He’d taken another crack at changing a diaper, too. Willingly.
Not like the man who’d come into her life when Trish had been nine. That year had made her tougher than she knew she could be. She’d decided then that she would protect her little brothers and sisters. She would get her education even if it took her two years longer to graduate and then she would get the hell off that rez. And when she’d made it, she’d do everything she could to make sure that no other kid went hungry.
She would never again be at the mercy of a man.
Which did not explain why she was living in Nate Longmire’s home, caring for his niece, completely dependent on him for her meals and money. Taking this position was something so impulsive, so not thought-out, that even her mother, Pat, would be surprised.
She was completely at Nate’s mercy right now and all she had to go on was that his maid said he was a good man and he’d promised sex wasn’t part of the plan. That was it. She tried to reason that at least Nate had a reference—her mother had hooked up on far less—but it didn’t change the fact that, for the first time in her life, Trish had followed in her mother’s footsteps. When a good-looking man had said jump, she’d asked how high and tossed everything to the side to take care of another baby.
Trish didn’t know what to think anymore. The certainty with which she’d lived her life for the past ten, fifteen years—suddenly, she wasn’t so certain that she was absolutely doing the right thing.
Trish went around and around with herself. Then she heard a soft whump and she sat up, her ears straining. The clock said one-thirty. She must have drifted off at some point.
Then she heard it, the building whine of a baby who was not quite awake yet. She threw off her covers and hurried through the adjoining bathroom door. She turned on the bathroom light and let the door open enough that she could see her way to the playpen.
Jane had gotten herself loose from her swaddling and was flailing about. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, sweetie,” Trish said as she picked up the baby. “I’m here. Let’s go get a bottle, okay? Let’s let Nate sleep.”
The moment the words left her mouth, the overhead lights flipped on. Jane flinched and began to cry in earnest.
Blinking hard, Trish spun to see Nate standing in the doorway in a T-shirt and a pair of boxers—not all that different from what she was wearing.
“Everything okay?” he asked in a bleary voice.
“The light—turn it off.”
“What?”
“Nate,” she hissed in a whisper. “Turn the light off. Please. You’re upsetting Jane.”
“Oh.” He flipped the light off and Jane quieted back down to a pleading whimper. “Was that bad?”
“We should keep it as quiet and as dark as possible during the night.” She could see what had happened now. Every time the baby had made a noise, Nate had hopped up and turned on the overhead lights, which had woken Jane up even more. No wonder he hadn’t slept.
She realized she was aware of Nate standing there in his boxers—and she didn’t like being that aware of him, all sleepy and rumpled and still very attractive. Like a man who’d feel just right curled up against her in bed. Her nipples tightened under her tank top.
No, no—bad. Bad thoughts. She could only hope that, in the dim light, he hadn’t noticed. She shifted Jane so the baby covered her breasts and headed toward the door. She kept her voice low. “I’ve got this. You go back to bed.”
He yawned. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope. Just going to get her a bottle, get her changed and lay her back down.”
Nate scratched the back of his head. “You want me to get the bottle for you?”
She stopped then, not three feet from him. “You’re paying me to do night duty, you know.” Besides, the odds of him doing something not conducive to getting a baby back to sleep were pretty high.
He looked as if he was going to argue with her, but then he yawned again. “Okay. But you’ll let me know if you need me, right?”
“Right.” She started walking again, but Nate didn’t get out of her way. She was forced to squeeze her body past his in the door frame.
Unexpectedly, he leaned forward and kissed the top of Jane’s head. “Be a good girl,” he murmured. Then he looked up. He was close enough to touch, except for the infant between them. “You’re sure you don’t need me?”
An unfamiliar sensation fluttered across Trish’s lower back, like static electricity right at the base of her spine. It tightened muscles in unfamiliar areas, sending a dull ache through her body.
“No,” she whispered so softly that he was forced to lean forward a bit just to hear her. For some insane reason, she
wanted to run her fingers over his beard. She clutched the baby tighter. “I’m...I’m fine. We’re fine.”
“Good night, Trish.” He pushed off and walked back to his room.
It was only when his door was safely shut that Trish sagged against the door frame. “Good night, Nate.”
Oh, heavens. One night down.
Twenty-nine nights to go.
* * *
Through the fog of the first decent night’s sleep in two weeks, Nate heard Jane fuss twice more during the night. Both times, he woke up with a start, his heart pounding in terror. The baby—
But then, both times, he heard the soft footsteps moving around his house and he remembered—Trish. The woman who was taking care of Jane. The beautiful woman who made him think about things he had long ago learned not to think about. Like sex.
And he lay there both times, fighting the urge to get up and check on Jane—and Trish—because, after all, he was paying her to get up in the middle of the night.
He shouldn’t have gotten up the first time, but he was still a tad jumpy about the whole situation. And then Trish had been there, her body silhouetted against the dim light from the bathroom like an angel of mercy, come to save him from himself. Her bare shoulders had been haloed with the light and her curves—
He’d almost kissed her. He’d promised he wouldn’t and he almost had, anyway. It’d been the sleep deprivation, that was all. He must be too tired to think straight because he knew he could control himself better than that.
So, in a monumental effort of self-control, he stayed in bed, drifting between true sleep and awareness. The first time, the house eventually became quiet again and he slept. But the second time—even though Trish was not being loud—he still heard her moving around downstairs.
He rolled over and looked at the clock. Six-fifty in the morning. Ugh. He normally slept much later than this, until nine or ten. He tried to bury his head in a pillow, but it didn’t work.
He pictured Trish moving through his house, Jane on her hip, looking like she belonged here. He remembered the way she’d looked at him when he’d tried to make the bottle of formula—a smile she was trying to hide and a warmth in her eyes that couldn’t be hidden.
That warmth—that had to be why he’d not-so-subtly hit on her last night. He was out of practice. He wanted to think that she looked at him like that because there was some interest on her end—the same interest he thought he’d seen in the coffee shop.
Of course, if she knew about what had happened with Diana...maybe she wouldn’t look at him like that anymore. It’s not like he had to worry about Brad swooping in and charming the pants off Trish, though.
The moment he had that thought, enormous guilt swamped him.
God, he was a mess and because he was such a mess, he’d almost broken his promise to Trish. That wasn’t like him.
What if, after last night, she’d changed her mind about staying? What if he’d crossed a line he couldn’t uncross? Then he’d be little better than Brad had been, unable to keep it zipped around a woman who should be hands-off. And he’d be on his own with a baby again, trying not to screw things up and probably screwing up, anyway.
Panicked, he dragged his tired butt out of bed and threw on a clean pair of jeans. He’d apologize, that was all. He’d do a much better job of keeping a mental wall between Trish Hunter, his nanny, and Trish Hunter, woman of his fantasies. He was not ruled by his baser urges. He was better than that. He was better than Brad, God rest his soul.
Nate hurried downstairs, trying to come up with a mature, responsible way to apologize for his behavior and failing pretty badly.
He looked in the parlor, but they weren’t there. The kitchen was also empty, but there were more used bottles in the sink. It wasn’t until he got to the dining room and saw the open doors that he found them.
The fog from the night before had mostly burned off, leaving the world with a hazy glow similar to the most-used filter on SnAppShot. And in the middle of the patio sat Trish. Her hair was long and loose, spilling down over the back of the padded patio chair she occupied. Her feet were bare and kicked up against the railing. She had on a long-sleeved flannel top to ward off the morning chill, so her shoulders were covered, thank God. She’d also added a pair of jeans. Jane was on her lap, a small blanket tucked around her and both were facing out to bay, where the outline of the Golden Gate Bridge was just emerging from the mist. The scene was one of complete and total peace. Trish was rubbing Jane’s little tummy and humming again—a tune Nate didn’t recognize.
He hesitated. The scene was almost too perfect—there was no way he wanted to kill the moment by stumbling out and opening his mouth. He just wanted to feel the serenity in this moment a little longer. All his anxiety seemed to ease.
“Good morning,” she said in that sweet voice of hers.
Nate stepped out onto the patio. Jane rolled in Trish’s arm and, grinning a particularly drooly grin, stretched out a hand for him.
This was something new. The baby was actually glad to see him. “Good morning. Long night?”
Trish twisted to look at him over her shoulder, her long hair rippling like silk in water. Her face lit up as she looked at him, as if not only was she not going to hold his midnight madness against him, but she might just welcome a little bit more madness. “I’ve had longer. God, this is an amazing view.”
No more madness. That was the deal. Nate offered his finger to Jane, whose smile got even wider. “She’s happy,” he said. “I mean—well, you know what I mean. I hadn’t seen her happy until you came.”
Trish dropped her gaze to the baby’s head and smoothed the fine hairs. “A decent night’s sleep and a full tummy will do that.”
He had to make sure Trish stayed. He needed her in a very concrete way that had nothing to do with his attraction to her. “Look, about last night...”
“There’s coffee, if you want some. It’s not good coffee,” she interrupted, turning her gaze back to the bay. “But it is coffee. You’ll have to show me how to use that machine.”
Jane made a cooing noise and turned back to the view, too. But she didn’t let go of Nate’s finger.
Well. This was awkward. He decided the manly thing to do was to set the record straight. Time to suck up his pride. “I’m sorry that I crossed a line last night. I wasn’t all the way awake and—”
She looked up at him again and this time, there was confusion in her eyes. “What line did you cross?”
“I...” he swallowed and dropped his gaze. “I...”
“You wanted to kiss me?”
So. After all these years of being a geek and a klutz and failing at a majority of social interactions involving the opposite sex, he was finally going to die of embarrassment. Fitting. “Well, yeah.”
She tilted her head, as if she were pondering this admission. “But you didn’t.”
“Because that was the plan. I don’t want to break our deal. You’re making Jane happy. I want you to stay the whole month.” The words fell out of his mouth in a rush.
“You didn’t kiss me. You didn’t come into my room in the middle of the night. You aren’t trying to force me to do anything I don’t choose to do of my own free will.”
The way she said it hit him like a slow-swung sledgehammer because no matter how clueless he could sometimes be, even he heard the truth behind those words.
He hadn’t done any of those things.
But someone else had.
“I would never,” he got out, his voice shaking. White hot fury poured through his body at the thought of someone doing any of that to her.
She nodded. “Then I’ll stay. A deal’s a deal. There’s nothing wrong with attraction if we don’t act on it.”
“Okay. Good.” Then what she’d said sunk in. Did she mean his attraction? Or did she me
an she was attracted to him, too?
It didn’t matter. Because even if she was attracted, she wasn’t going to act on it. Because that was the deal. For the month.
After the month was up...
He looked down and saw a mostly empty coffee cup on the patio table. “I’ll get you some more coffee.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
Nate was gone so long that Trish was on the verge of going to look for him. But the early-morning sun had burned off the rest of the fog and the view was simply amazing and this chair was very comfortable and...
And he’d wanted to kiss her. But hadn’t.
So she stayed in her chair and played with Jane. The little girl’s personality had done a complete 180 in twenty-four hours. Jane was a happy, smiley baby who was definitely teething. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” Trish cooed to her as the baby bit down on one of her fingers. “I bet you were the apple of your mommy’s eye.”
A pang of sadness hit her. Jane would never know her mother—and would never remember Trish, either. Trish would be long gone before that could happen. All she could do was make sure that Nate was set up to care for the girl.
And then...
No. She wasn’t going to get ahead of herself. Just because Nate was attracted to her didn’t mean a damn thing in the long term. The short term was why she was here. She needed to start Jane on solid foods and get some teething rings. But first, Trish was going to make sure the baby stayed up until after the lunch feeding. What this girl needed was a regular sleep schedule, the faster the better.
Finally, Nate re-emerged, a tray in his hands. “Breakfast?” he said, setting the tray down on the small table.
Trish leaned over and saw that he’d assembled bacon, scrambled eggs and toast, in addition to a carafe of coffee—and a fresh bottle of formula. “Oh,” she breathed at the sight of all that glorious food. “I wondered what was taking so long.”
The Nanny Plan Page 8
