His New Nanny

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. Amanda 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.

They were returning to the house when they met George, who carried a green-stained machete and whose gaze swept over Amanda. Melanie immediately drew closer to Amanda, her little body tense.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Little Bit and the new nanny.” He swung the machete up over his shoulder. “Getting settled in all right?”

“Fine, thank you,” Amanda replied, and placed a hand on Melanie’s shoulder.

He wiped a hand across his broad brow, where sweat trickled down. “You need somebody to show you around town, Ms. Nanny, you just call on me. Erica, she liked the places I took her.”

A deep chill swept through Amanda. “Thank you, George, but I doubt I’ll have time to do much sightseeing. Come on, Melanie, we’d better get inside and get cleaned up for dinner.”

As they walked away, Amanda could still feel George’s gaze burning into her back as his words whirled around in her head. Did George have something to do with Erica’s murder? How dangerous was the handyman?

Sawyer didn’t make it home in time for supper. She and Melanie ate in the kitchen and after dinner played another board game.

It was almost eight when Sawyer walked into Melanie’s bedroom where the two were stretched out on the floor. Amanda quickly got to her feet as Melanie ran to her father and threw her arms around his waist.

If Amanda had any concerns about Sawyer being abusive with his daughter, they were dispelled as she saw the fierce love that lit Melanie’s eyes as she hugged her daddy.

Amanda tried to ignore the faint tension that curled in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him. He looked unbelievably handsome in black slacks and a white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to expose muscled forearms dusted with dark hair.

The last thing she needed was to develop a crush on her employer, especially a man who had a dark cloud of suspicion hanging over his head. Besides, even if he was innocent, he was a wealthy man who certainly wouldn’t look for a wife among the hired help.

But she couldn’t ignore the way her heartbeat accelerated and a slight breathlessness swept over her whenever he looked at her.

“And now it’s bath time for you, my little one. While you take your bath and get ready for bed I’m going to see if Helen left me something to eat, then I’ll be back up to tuck you in.” He straightened and looked at Amanda. “And after I tuck in Melanie, I’d like to see you in my office.”

It was almost nine when Sawyer ushered Amanda into his office and gestured her toward the chair in front of the desk. He’d changed from his slacks and dress shirt into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that hugged his muscled chest.

“You don’t look any the worse for wear after today,” he observed as he sat behind the desk.

“We got along just fine,” she assured him. “She’s very bright.”

His eyes gleamed with pride. “She is, but equally important is the fact that she has a loving heart.” The light in his eyes was doused as quickly as it had shone. “I’m assuming you didn’t get her to talk.”

“I didn’t try to get her to talk,” Amanda replied. “Melanie has no reason to trust me right now, and the last thing I want to do is push her to do something she obviously doesn’t want to do.”

He leaned forward and for a moment his eyes shimmered with such torment she felt it deep inside of her. “Then why doesn’t she trust me? She must know I’d never hurt her, that I love her more than anyone else on the face of the earth.”

The momentary vulnerability on his features ripped through her, and she wanted to grab his hand, stroke his brow, give him a comforting touch. But she didn’t. Instead she leaned back in the chair to distance herself from the impulse.

“I can’t answer that, Sawyer. Elective muteness is difficult to understand and we can’t know what’s going on inside Melanie’s head.” She frowned, realizing she sounded clinical and detached. “She’ll talk, Sawyer. When she’s ready she’ll talk, but Melanie is the one in control of that, and we just have to be patient.”

The moment of vulnerability disappeared as his eyes glittered once again. “Patience has never been one of my strengths. I want what I want when I want it.” The strength of the statement coupled with his gaze, which seemed to linger on her lips, caused her breath to catch in her chest.

“Unfortunately, you aren’t in control of this situation,” she replied, hoping she didn’t reveal how she felt. She straightened in the chair. “I read the news reports about your wife’s murder.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she felt the need to interject his wife into the conversation, needed to remind herself that he was a grieving man rather than an attractive, single hunk ready for a relationship.

Before he could reply, a scream pierced the air.

Chapter Three

Sawyer shot out of the chair and raced from the room. He knew that scream. Oh, God, but he knew that scream. Melanie! He took the stairs two at a time, vaguely aware of Amanda hurrying behind him.

His heart crashed against his rib cage as the scream came again. The sound of sheer terror ripped through him. The minute he entered the dark bedroom, he saw his daughter silhouetted in front of the window.

As he grabbed Melanie and pulled her tight against his chest, Amanda flipped on the overhead light. The sleep glaze in Melanie’s eyes fell away and she uttered a single small sob as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

When he realized it must have been the darkness of the room and a bad dream that had tumbled her out of bed and not some physical threat, he relaxed a bit.

“Shh, it’s all right,” he soothed as he stroked down her trembling back. “It was just a dream, just a very bad dream.” Although he said the words, he knew it was a very bad memory that had caused his daughter to scream.

While he held and tried to calm her, Amanda took the night-light out of the wall outlet. He was almost relieved that they had left the office. As he’d sat talking to her, all he’d been able to think about was whether her lips tasted as soft and yielding as they looked, or if her sweet-smelling hair felt like silk.

It was a dangerous train of thought. The last thing he wanted or needed was the complication of a woman in his life. His life was complicated enough as it was. No matter how attractive he found Amanda Rockport, he’d do well to remember he had more important things on his plate…like staying out of prison.

Within minutes Melanie had calmed and been tucked back into bed. Sawyer got a new lightbulb out of her dresser drawer and changed the burnt out one in the night-light.

He remained in the doorway until he was certain Melanie was once again asleep, then he stepped into the hallway where Amanda awaited him.

“The bulb in the night-light needs to be changed once a week, no matter what,” he said. In the close confines of the hallway her scent eddied in the air, the bewitching scent of night-blooming jasmine.

“Will she be all right?” she asked, her concern evident in her voice.

“She should be fine for the rest of the night. She has occasional nightmares. That’s why the nightlight is so important.” He swept a hand through his hair as a deep sorrow cut through him.

Would Melanie forever be scarred by that night? He should have made different choices. Guilt and recriminations ripped him up inside. He should have done things differently, then none of this would have happened.

She took a step toward him. “Children are amazingly resilient, Sawyer.” She placed a hand on his forearm, her long slender fingers warm on his arm. “She’ll be fine in time.”

There was a softness, an innocence about her that he wanted to fall into. Somehow in the past couple of years he’d forgotten about kindness and innocence and the inviting softness that some women possessed.

He stepped back from her, and her hand fell to her side. “The problem is I don’t know how much time I have.” He motioned her toward the stairs and away from Melanie’s bedroom. “I don’t know when there’s going to be a knock on the door and Lucas Jamison will be standing there with an arrest warrant.”

They started down the stairs. “Lucas Jamison? Is he a policeman?” she asked.

“He’s a good friend, but he’s also the sheriff.” They reached the bottom of the stairs. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked. He wasn’t ready to call it a night, wasn’t prepared for the nightmares his own sleep would probably bring.

“A cup of coffee would be nice,” she agreed, and followed him into the kitchen. She sat at the table while he put on half a pot to brew.

When the coffee began to gurgle into the glass carafe he turned back to face her. “What are you doing here?”

A tiny frown danced across her forehead. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why would you leave your home to travel to a small bayou in Louisiana to take a nanny job and work for a man you’d never met? I’ve seen your credentials. You could have a job anywhere.”

“I had a job at a local middle school in Kansas City, but I decided I needed a change.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his. He had the feeling that there was more to her story than she was telling.

Even though she was Johnny’s younger sister, before hiring her he had done a thorough background check. He knew she had no criminal record, had never been married and, until a couple of months ago, had worked as a counselor at the middle school she’d mentioned.

Her eyes shone as she finally met his gaze. “I’m here to help Melanie, that’s all that’s important to me. And that should be all that’s important to you.”

Secrets. Everyone seemed to have a couple. He poured them each a cup of coffee, then joined her at the table. “Melanie likes you,” he said.

“I like her.” She took a sip of her coffee and studied him above the rim of the cup. She placed her cup back on the table and wrapped her fingers around it. “She seems rather tentative, as if she’s anticipating me yelling at her…or hitting her.”

Her words created a small ball of rage inside him. He tamped it down and took a drink, then replied, “My wife was a woman who didn’t particularly enjoy motherhood. She was often impatient with Melanie.” He took another drink to stop himself from speaking ill of the dead.

“It’s obvious that Melanie adores you.”

“I think that’s one of the reasons I’m not in jail at the moment.”

She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Lucas is aware that Melanie saw something the night of Erica’s murder. I think he figures if Melanie saw me kill her mother that night then Melanie would have nothing to do with me now.”

“But, that’s not necessarily true,” she replied. Once again her eyes darkened. “Children often rewrite reality to make it more comfortable, to make it feel safe. Children also have the capacity to create a fantasy and make it real to them.”

“Do me a favor, don’t mention those kinds of things to Lucas. I have enough problems as it is.”

“I can’t imagine any reason I’d have to speak to the sheriff.” She frowned. “But I’d like to ask you about George.”