His New Nanny

His New Nanny

Carla Cassidy

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

“They say he killed his wife.” The old man’s grizzled eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Killed her then tried to feed her to the gators.”

Amanda Rockport stared at him, unsure if he was pulling her leg. “Then why isn’t he in jail?” she asked.

“Circumstantial evidence, but not enough proof to put the man behind bars. Besides, he’s rich. Money talks and the guilty walks. You best go back to where you came from and leave Sawyer Bennett to the devil where he belongs.”

Amanda fought the impulse to reach up and rub the center of her forehead where a tension headache had lived for the past month.

“I’ve never been one to put much stock in idle gossip,” she replied. She wished she hadn’t stopped in the small café before reaching her final destination—Sawyer Bennett’s home.

She cupped her hands around the hot cup of coffee and considered doing exactly what the old man had suggested, going back to where she’d come from.

Unfortunately that really wasn’t an option. She’d used the last of her money to travel from Kansas City to Conja Creek, Louisiana. Besides, there was nothing left for her in Kansas City.

She finished her coffee and stood. “I appreciate the advice,” she said to the old man who had sat on the stool next to her at the café counter.

His blue eyes gazed at her sharply. “You’re making a mistake.”

“I guess it’s my mistake to make.” She threw a couple of dollars on the counter to pay for the coffee. As she stepped out of the café, the hot, humid air hit her like a slap in the face and half stole her breath.

She moved quickly to her car, where she started the engine and waited for cool air to blow from the vents. “They say he killed his wife.” The old man’s words echoed in her head.

Surely Johnny wouldn’t have arranged this job for her if he’d thought Sawyer Bennett was a danger. Granted her brother didn’t always exhibit the best judgment, but there was no way he’d send her to work for a murderer.

All Johnny had told her when he’d approached her about the job was that Sawyer Bennett had been a college roommate and the two men had stayed in touch over the years and that Sawyer had lost his wife recently and needed a nanny.

Think of the child, she told herself. Think of Melanie. She opened the file folder on the seat next to her and withdrew the photo of the little girl. She looked small for her age, and her eyes radiated a sadness too profound for an eight-year-old.

She knew from her brief correspondence with Sawyer Bennett that two months ago Melanie Bennett had gone mute.

With Amanda’s psychology degree and teaching background, she’d felt confident that she’d be able to help Melanie. And any job that got her away from the mess of her life in Kansas City had been appealing. Until she’d stopped for coffee and made the mistake of passing time with an old-timer seated next to her.

Now a rumble of apprehension thundered through her head, intensifying her headache. At the moment she really had no choice. She couldn’t go back. She could only go forward and hope that she wasn’t making a monumental mistake.

With a deep breath, she backed out of the parking space. Sawyer’s directions had indicated that she’d pass through the town of Conja Creek. She should have passed through. She should have never stopped for that coffee.

She left the town behind and turned down a narrow road flanked by trees dripping moss. The sunlight seemed to disappear as if unable to penetrate the depths of the surrounding forest.

Clutching the steering wheel more tightly, she found the alien landscape both forbidding and fascinating. A twist here, a turn there and she came to a clearing. The large plantation-style house filled the space, flanked by tall trees and backed by the swamp.

It was an impressive structure, with thick white columns and a sweeping veranda that seemed to go on forever. It didn’t whisper of old money, it screamed it.

She parked next to a black pickup and cut the engine, but was reluctant to leave the familiar confines of her car. They say he killed his wife and fed her to the gators. Nothing but rumor, she told herself. And she knew all about rumors and innuendoes.

She knew all about circumstantial evidence and that sometimes it had nothing to do with truth. It had been circumstantial evidence and rumors that had destroyed her life.

It didn’t take long for the car to get too hot, so she grabbed her purse and the file folder and got out. The air hung heavy, the humidity nearly visible as she headed toward the stairs that led to the porch. The silence was as oppressive as the air.

Please don’t let this be a mistake, she mentally begged. She needed this job. She needed this child in order for her to redeem herself. Drawing on the inner strength that had left her for the past couple of months, she knocked on the door.

The door creaked open, and Amanda found herself face-to-face with Melanie. The little girl’s brown eyes widened. She turned on her heels and raced away.

“Wait! Melanie,” Amanda said, taking a step into the entry, but the child raced around a corner and disappeared.

“You must forgive my daughter. She was expecting somebody else and doesn’t do well with strangers.” The deep voice came from the doorway opposite the direction in which Melanie had run.

Amanda recognized the voice from the single phone conversation she’d had with him. She turned to face Sawyer Bennett.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but he wasn’t it. She hadn’t anticipated the broad shoulders that stretched the black T-shirt he wore. She hadn’t expected him to be so tall. But more than anything she hadn’t anticipated the handsome, haunted features; the black hair or the dark green eyes that reminded her of a mysterious forest.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come and so I didn’t prepare Melanie for your arrival,” he said. “I’m Sawyer Bennett.” He stepped closer to her and held out a hand. “And I assume you’re Amanda.”

She nodded, shook his hand and tried not to notice the scent that drifted off him, the scent of something wild and slightly intoxicating. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said as he dropped her hand and stepped back.

“I trust you had no problems finding the place?”

She thought about telling him she’d stopped into the café in Conja Creek but then changed her mind. “Your directions were excellent,” she replied. “I had no trouble.”

“Good. Then we’ll just get you settled in. If you’ll follow me I’ll show you to the room where you’ll be staying.”

Amanda had always considered herself pretty good at reading people, but she found it impossible to read her new employer. She followed him up the stairs, trying to absorb the first impressions that filled her head.

The house was silent except for their footsteps whispering against the plush beige carpeting, but there was a simmering energy that pulsed in the air, and she wasn’t sure if it radiated from the house itself or the man in front of her.

Please don’t let this be a mistake. The mantra repeated itself in her head as she stared at his stiff, unyielding back. They reached the top of the stairs and passed a closed door. He stepped into the next room and gestured her inside.

It was a pleasant bedroom decorated in various shades of yellow. “You can stay in here or you’re welcome to one of the other guest bedrooms. Melanie’s room is right next door to this one and the only drawback is that you’ll share a bathroom with her.”

As Amanda looked through the bathroom she saw Melanie peeking around the corner. Her little gamin face was there only a moment, then gone. “I certainly don’t mind if Melanie doesn’t. This will be just fine.”

He nodded. “I assume you have suitcases in your car? If you’ll give me the key I’ll see that they’re brought up to you.”

“I’d like to go over the particulars,” she began as she handed him her keys, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“We’ll talk later. I know you’ve had a long trip. Dinner is at six. We’ll talk after that.” He didn’t wait for her response, but instead turned on his heels and left her alone in the room.

She heard the murmur of his deep voice and when she looked into the hallway she saw Sawyer and his daughter, her little hand in his, going back down the stairs. She watched until they disappeared from sight, then she walked to the mirror above the dresser to see if the apprehension that fluttered in her chest showed on her face.

Her blue eyes reflected none of the turmoil, and her dark brown hair remained pulled back away from her features in a low ponytail that went to the middle of her shoulders. She’d worn no makeup, hoping that without it she would look older than her twenty-seven years.

She knew that Sawyer was thirty-three, the same age as her brother, and she hadn’t wanted him to think of her as Johnny’s baby sister.

She turned away from the mirror with a small sigh and instead walked over to the bedroom window and peered outside.

From this vantage point she saw the backyard. There was an area of lush lawn, then the faint dark sparkle of swamp water surrounded by tangled vegetation and gnarled, twisted cypress trees.

A narrow wooden dock with side rails extended out over the water, appearing to her as an invitation to an inhospitable wildness.

This was not a place of warmth and safety, but rather one of uncertainty with the potential for imminent danger. With an eight-year-old living here, there should be laughter and chatter. The house should teem with noise, but instead the utter silence pressed in around her. And if she listened to idle gossip it was possible that the man was as dangerous as the place.

She couldn’t think that way. She refused to let the words of a stranger in a café override her brother’s characterization of Sawyer Bennett. Still, she wished she’d done a little research before jumping at the job opportunity.

She knew Sawyer Bennett was an architect, but surely he had people who worked for him here in the house. A cook, a housekeeper, some people to work the grounds. She couldn’t imagine living in a place this size without having a staff of some sort. So, where was everyone?

She didn’t know how long she’d been standing at the window, staring out and wondering what she’d gotten herself into, when a loud thump resounded from behind her.

She whirled around to see a burly blond man just inside her room. He’d dropped her large suitcase on the floor and still held her smaller overnight bag. “Name is George. I work for Mr. Bennett.” He placed the overnight bag on the floor and when he straightened, his gaze swept her from head to toe. “Be nice to have something pretty to look at again.”

Something about his gaze made her feel like she needed a shower, but before she could say anything he turned and left. She rubbed the center of her forehead where the tension headache had renewed its acquaintance with her.

What in the heck had she gotten herself into?

AT QUARTER TO SIX Amanda left her bedroom and headed down the stairs in search of the dining room or kitchen. In the two hours she’d been in her room she’d unpacked her things, taken a shower and changed her clothes. In that time she’d heard nothing, seen nobody.

As she descended, the scent of something savory cooking made her stomach rumble in response, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since that morning.

But more than appease her hunger, she was eager to spend some time with Melanie, anxious to learn more about what, exactly, her nanny job entailed.

She ran her hands down the sides of her navy dress, hoping she was dressed appropriately. When he’d indicated that dinner was at six, she’d had the feeling that jeans and a T-shirt were not appropriate attire.

She found Melanie seated next to her father on the sofa in the living room. Sawyer rose to his feet as she entered. “Good evening, Ms. Rockport.” She was grateful she’d decided to wear the dress, as he was clad in a pair of dress slacks and a crisp white shirt.

“Please, make it Amanda,” she replied and smiled at Melanie.

“This is my daughter,” Sawyer said. “Melanie, this is the woman I told you about. She’s going to take care of you.”

“I hope we’ll be friends,” Amanda said.

Melanie stared at her warily, then gave a curt nod of her head. This was a child who would not trust easily, Amanda thought. It was going to take time and patience to earn her trust.

“I’ve invited some friends to join us for dinner,” Sawyer said. “James and Lillian Cordell. Lillian went to high school with my wife and they’re Melanie’s godparents and good friends. They should be arriving anytime. They live in the house closest to us.” He gestured her toward a chair across from the sofa.

Again she noticed the seething, just-below-the-surface energy that emanated from him, which slightly repelled and attracted her. She had so many questions for him about her position here, but it seemed as if none of them would be answered until after dinner.

Before any conversation could continue, the doorbell rang and Sawyer got up to answer, leaving Melanie and Amanda alone. Melanie stared at her folded hands in her lap. A sadness about her made Amanda want to join Melanie on the sofa and wrap her in a tight, loving embrace.

Instead she softly spoke her name, and Melanie looked up at her. “I know it’s kind of scary to meet new people,” Amanda said. “But I think we’re going to get along just fine. I don’t know about you, but I like to do all kinds of things.” Melanie tilted her head quizzically and Amanda continued. “I like to draw and I love to color. I like to tell stories and play dress up. I like to have tea parties and sometimes I even like to collect bugs.”

One corner of Melanie’s lips twitched upward in a faint smile. It’s a start, Amanda told herself. Now if she could just get even a half smile out of Sawyer Bennett she might feel a little bit at ease.

He returned to the living room with an attractive couple. “James, Lillian, I’d like to introduce you to my new nanny, Amanda Rockport.”

Amanda stood and smiled. “Nice to meet you both,” she said.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Lillian exclaimed and took Amanda’s hand in hers. “It will be so nice to have woman conversation again.” She released Amanda’s hand and went directly to Melanie. “And there’s my girl,” she said, and pulled Melanie into a tight embrace. Melanie returned the embrace, then stepped back.

“Dinner is ready, so we can go on into the dining room,” Sawyer said.

Sawyer sat at the head of the table with Melanie on his right and Amanda on his left. Lillian sat next to Amanda and James sat at the opposite end of the table.

An elderly woman Sawyer introduced to Amanda as Helen served them. Her sharp gaze perused Amanda as if taking stock of her character. Once the meal was served she silently disappeared back into the kitchen.

It would have been easy for Amanda to feel out of place. Melanie remained silent as did Sawyer, but the blond, vivacious Lillian engaged Amanda in conversation immediately.

“So, where are you from?” Lillian asked Amanda as Lillian buttered a biscuit the size of her fist.

“Kansas City,” Amanda replied.

Lillian looked at Sawyer in surprise. “How on earth did you find her?”

“Amanda’s brother and I went to college together,” Sawyer said. “I mentioned to him that I was in the market for a nanny, and it just so happened that Amanda was in the market for a job.”

“You know I was perfectly happy taking care of Melanie,” Lillian exclaimed. “We had lots of fun, didn’t we, sweetheart?” She smiled at Melanie, who replied with a quick nod of her head.

“I couldn’t allow you to continue to ignore your own work,” Sawyer said smoothly. He looked at Amanda, those dark green eyes of his enigmatic. “Lillian is an artist who has neglected her work for the past couple of months to help me out with Melanie.”

“An artist? What kind of art?” Amanda asked.

“I dabble in a little bit of everything,” she replied.

“She’s being modest.” James looked at his wife affectionately. “One of the things she ‘dabbles’ in is making Mardi Gras masks that are unbelievable. People come from all over the country to buy a Lillian mask for the celebration.”

It didn’t take long for Melanie to finish eating and look at her father with pleading eyes. He told her she was dismissed from the table, and it seemed she couldn’t escape the room of grown-ups fast enough.

“Poor little thing,” Lillian said when she was gone. “My heart just aches for her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Sawyer replied. “With Amanda here we can establish a routine and before long she’ll be back to her old self.” He said it forcefully, as if by sheer willpower alone he could make it so.

Once again Amanda wondered under what circumstances Melanie had stopped speaking. Was it grief over her mother’s death that had stolen her desire to talk? She couldn’t wait until dinner was over and the Cordells had gone home so she and Sawyer could have a conversation about the daily work schedule and Melanie.

“You must let me show you around Conja Creek,” Lillian said to Amanda. “I can show you the best place to have your hair done, what shop carries the best clothes in town and where all the ladies have lunch.”

“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.”