The Ties That Bind
She rushed from the room and brought back her windowsill herb garden. “You might as well take this too. The plants will die without water, and you and your sister can experiment with the different flavors when you cook. Be sure to write down any good recipes you concoct for me.”
“Sure. That’ll be fun.”
Hollister nodded toward Cody’s high chair. “You’d better bring that.”
He followed Elle out of the apartment carrying Anna’s remaining luggage. She folded up the lightweight high chair, locked up and trailed him down the stairs.
She stopped beside him on the sidewalk. “That was nice of you. Giving Elle the money and contact information, I mean.”
“It was nothing.” He closed the trunk on her stuff and stowed the baby chair in the backseat.
“Her father’s disabled and—”
“I don’t care, nor do I need to know her circumstances.”
His cold tone cut like a new scalpel, revealing the armor-plated personality his assistant had mentioned. “Yessir.”
For a moment he’d seemed human, compassionate even. But she must have misread him.
She hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake.
Pierce didn’t buy Anna’s goody-two-shoes act.
He’d taken her home rather than put her on the train not out of generosity, but because he’d wanted her taking over the care of Kat’s kid immediately. And he’d wanted insight into the woman who had hoodwinked his usually astute executive assistant.
Sarah had been with him since his father’s sudden death had forced Pierce to take the reins of the company seven years ago, and she’d been his father’s executive assistant for twenty years before that. No one knew the company like she did, and in all the time they’d worked together he’d never once doubted her intelligence as he did today.
But she was too valuable an employee to lose—especially now at crunch time with thousands of scholarship applications still left to go through and his aggressive agenda for Hollister Ltd. He had a distinct impression she’d have quit if he hadn’t hired Aronson.
He glanced at the freckled female with the long auburn hair and even longer legs sitting in his passenger seat. Pretty, but not so much so that she’d drive men wild with lust, and her conservative clothing wasn’t going to lead a man to believe she was looking for a lover. Her story didn’t add up. And then there was the way she’d studied his artwork as if she knew the value of each piece. The collection was insured. But he’d have to watch her.
Her almost empty apartment and her soap opera sob story about her ex-husband combined with the pile of bills on the counter indicated a woman in dire straights. A woman desperate enough to do things to make a few bucks.
Like proposition a wealthy parent.
Or fence stolen paintings.
He’d been convinced he’d made a mistake in hiring her, then she’d helped the girl, doing so in a manner that made giving handouts look as if the teen was doing Anna a favor by taking them.
Pierce had been surprised when the girl had opened Anna’s refrigerator and cabinets because those too had been nearly empty. He hadn’t seen a pantry or refrigerator that bare since his stint in foster care.
It was only after Anna’s comment about missed groceries that he’d noticed the girl wasn’t fashionably thin. She was emaciated. And Anna had given her what little food she had. Sure, Aronson would be eating on his dime in the foreseeable future, but she’d handled the delicate situation with a sensitivity that he couldn’t help but respect.
He kept his eyes on the road and the traffic, but his brain waves remained tuned in to the pale and silent woman sitting in the seat beside him.
Sarah might believe that having a woman with Anna’s qualifications fall into his lap when he was desperate was a godsend, but if life had taught him anything, it was that when something looked too good to be true, ninety-nine percent of the time it was.
He’d definitely have to keep his eye on Anna Aronson.
Two
Anna’s nerves were getting the better of her. Her boss’s frowning silence in the driver’s seat didn’t help.
Without the contract to read or the need to give directions during the car ride back to the estate she had time to think, time to worry about whether moving into a stranger’s house—a stranger who thought she was a liar—was the right thing to do for Cody and herself. It made them vulnerable. Much more vulnerable than she’d been in her remote classroom at the far end of the hall at the academy where no one had heard Dan’s illicit invitation or his threat to make her regret saying no.
But what choice did she have? It was mid-September and schools had already filled their teacher positions. This had been the only job available for which she was even slightly qualified.
She swallowed, trying and failing to ease the dryness in her mouth. “Does Mrs. Findley—Sarah—live with you?”
“She has stayed at the house for this past week, but tonight she’ll go back to her cottage.”
“And the housekeeper?”
“Comes in three times a week.”
That meant Anna and her boss would be alone—except for the boys—in a house surrounded by luxuriant lawns, dense trees and a six-foot-high stone fence with an electronically controlled iron gate.
Don’t be a worrywart. Not every good-looking rich guy is a pervert who wants to play with the help.
Her pep talk did little to ease her disquiet. Something about Pierce Hollister disturbed her. Not in a skulking around in dark corners creepy kind of way, but…well, she didn’t really know how or why he agitated her. He just did in an adrenaline-pumping, palms-moistening kind of way.
“Graham favors you,” she blurted in an effort to redirect her thoughts.
Hollister shot her an appalled glance which she thought a little odd. “He’s not even a year old. You can’t tell that.”
“Sure you can. He has your nose, chin and hair, and his eyes are shaped like yours even though they’re blue instead of hazel. Haven’t you noticed the similarities?”
“You’re imagining things.”
“If you compared your baby pictures to his you’d see what I mean.”
Hollister’s scowl deepened. “I don’t have any baby pictures.”
“Your mother probably does.”
“My mother is dead.”
She winced. Way to put your foot in your mouth, Anna. “I’m sorry. Your father then?”
“I was adopted. There are no pictures.”
Even adoptive families took photos. But his hadn’t? Another strange fact to file away. An awkward silence filled the car. “How old were you when you joined your new family?”
“Eight. And the boy does not look like me.”
The boy? Her eyebrows hiked at his phrasing and testy tone. “Sarah said Graham is eleven months old. He’s big for his age and really gets around well. When did he start walking?”
“I don’t know.”
How could he forget such a milestone? Or maybe he was being rude because he didn’t want to talk to her. She lapsed into silence, but that lasted less than five minutes before the uneasiness made her ask, “When is his birthday?”
“Next month.”
“Well, yes, I gathered that. If you want to have a party, I could help plan something.”
“That’s his mother’s job.”
“But…I thought that Graham’s mother might not be back by then.” She couldn’t imagine missing one of Cody’s birthdays.
“I am doing everything in my power to make sure she is.”
How sweet of him—even if it did mean Anna’s job ending sooner. “Well, anyway, if she can’t make it, I’ll help. Turning one is a pretty big deal. You could videotape it so she wouldn’t feel as if she were missing out.”
“There will be no party,” he snapped in a voice so low and adamant that it sounded more like an animal’s threatening growl than human speech.
The Hollister family’s dynamics were strange to say the least. The best she could do was figure out the parameters of her role, and to do that she’d need more than the scanty details Sarah Findley had provided.
“Which parts of the day would you like to spend with Graham?”
“None of them.”
Anna blinked in surprise. “You won’t be joining him for lunch or dinner or anything?”
“I need to work. Having him here has put me behind schedule.”
Need to work. Behind schedule. The words could have been straight from the chorus to the song of Anna’s life. She, her sister and her mother had eaten most of their meals alone even when her father had been in the house because he’d stayed locked in the library working. She couldn’t imagine having a child and not wanting to be a part of that child’s development.
She made a conscious effort to relax her jaw muscles. Clenching her teeth guaranteed she’d give herself a tension headache. “I see.”
He frowned harder at the disapproval she hadn’t quite managed to keep out of her voice. “Apparently Sarah didn’t explain the situation to you in a way you can understand. Graham is your responsibility until this job ends. The housekeeper will give you short breaks if absolutely necessary. I expect this to be a short-term position. You are being generously compensated for the overtime. I am on a tight deadline and don’t need interruptions.”
The hair on her nape prickled. His speech sounded awfully familiar, and for a moment she could have sworn her father had risen from the grave. “You’re saying you don’t want to spend any time with your son?”
He flinched. “No. Is there a reason for your inquisition, Ms. Aronson?” He bristled a “back off” warning.
“I’m trying to get a feel for Graham’s emotional state.”
“He’s a baby. All he cares about are food, sleep and a clean diaper. I hired you to be his nanny, not his shrink.”
“Being one pretty much requires being the other. Since babies can’t verbalize their needs—”
“Just keep the damned kids quiet and out of my way. That’s what you’re being paid to do. In fact, I’d rather not even know the three of you are in my house.”
Taken aback, she stared at him. She’d known the job sounded too good to be true. It looked as if she’d discovered the catch.
“Yessir.” For a moment she felt sorry for herself for finding a job that was going to evoke so many bad memories. But most of her sympathy pains were reserved for a little boy who would never understand why his daddy didn’t want to spend time with him.
Been there. Done that. And the pain…well, it wasn’t something you ever forgot.
Hollister steered his car into his driveway and her questions dried up. The tall iron gates crept open and he passed between the pillars. In the side mirror she watched heavy metal close, sealing off her escape route. Her heart raced faster and her palms dampened.
You’re being stupid, Anna. If you’d really thought he was a pervert you never would have taken the job.
But for a woman who loved horror stories and movies about things that went bump in the night the situation had all the makings of a gothic novel. Reclusive millionaire. Secluded mansion. Walled property. Cloudy coastline.
Hollister drove around the cobblestone circular drive and stopped in front of the sprawling gray stone house with white trim. Anna hadn’t noticed before, but the house’s cool colors and lack of flowers made it unwelcoming. Like its owner. Not that the landscaping wasn’t lush and impressive, but it was monochromatic. Green. Like money.
The front door opened and Sarah Findley stepped out, looking a bit harried. She held Cody’s hand and carried a red-faced Graham. As soon as Anna stepped from the car her son pulled free and rushed toward her. His little arms lifted and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Up, Mama. Up.”
Anna scooped him up and rose, hugging him close. He smelled of sweaty little boy and sunshine.
Hollister’s assistant bypassed her boss and handed Graham straight to Anna, leaving Anna to juggle two warm, wiggly bodies.
“I ordered a second crib and had it installed in the guest suite while you were out, Anna. I also ordered dinner for all of you. It’s waiting in the kitchen. I’m off. There’s a bubble bath waiting for me.” She extended her hand toward her boss. He dropped the keys into her palm.
It seemed a little unusual given Hollister’s obvious wealth that he and his assistant were sharing a car. But then so many things were not making sense.
“Mind if we unload before you race off?” A trace of humor warmed Hollister’s voice and a crooked smile lifted one corner of his mouth—the first smile Anna had seen from him. Her breath caught. He was quite attractive when he wasn’t being a sourpuss and his eyes were actually warm instead of coal hard. But that his affection was aimed toward his assistant instead of his son bothered her. He hadn’t even looked at Graham once since their arrival.
Sarah smiled. “I’ll even wait until you’ve put my bags in the trunk.”
That’s when Anna noticed the suitcases by the base of one of the large porch columns. The assistant’s eagerness to leave only increased Anna’s anxiety level. What was wrong with this picture?
Sarah turned toward Anna. “I didn’t show you your rooms earlier. Why don’t you go ahead and check them out. Top of the stairs. Turn left. The nursery and your suite are over the garage.”
Anna glanced questioningly at her new boss. He nodded. “I’ll bring up your stuff.”
“I…Okay, thanks.” She took the boys inside. Graham laid his head on her shoulder and popped his thumb in his mouth. Poor tired puppy. She had no clue of his schedule, but she suspected his naptime wasn’t far off.
She set Cody down in the foyer. “Let’s go upstairs, baby.”
He scampered on all fours up the steps ahead of her. Anna paused on the landing, noting there were no baby gates at the top or the bottom of the stairs. That was a safety hazard that had to be remedied.
Following Sarah’s instructions, Anna turned left and located the first room above the four-car garage. The bedroom was beautifully decorated in soothing blues and greens. An original John Singer Sargent seascape hung above the bed’s headboard. She wanted to linger over the artwork, but instead focused on the fact that the only sign this was a nursery were the two cribs pushed against the walls and a baby monitor on the dresser. There were no toys and the only other paraphernalia usually associated with babies was a bag of disposable diapers and a box of wipes on the dresser.
She laid the now-sleeping Graham in a crib, checked to make sure his diaper was clean then covered him with a light sheet. Her mind reeled with questions. Why was Graham sleeping in what was clearly a guest room? Why hadn’t the house been childproofed? None of the outlets were covered. Who had taken care of the child prior to Anna’s hiring? Why was Pierce so cool to his son?
Cody darted through an open door into an attached bathroom. “Bap,” he squealed in high-pitched excitement. “Biiiiiig bap.”
Anna followed. Cody’s eyes were nearly as large as the garden tub which would allow her to bathe both boys simultaneously. “We’ll have a bath later. Let’s go find mommy’s room, Cody.”
She herded him down a short hall and through a small sitting area with a television and a gas log fireplace before locating the second bedroom. It had another queen bed, a Frederick Church original above the headboard, and the other half of the baby monitor on the bedside table. She found an additional luxurious bathroom and a walk-in closet bigger than her apartment bedroom through a connecting door.
Again, the space was beautifully decorated, but as sterile as a hotel room—albeit with better art. She heard a car drive away and from the large window overlooking the front yard spotted the Lexus exiting through the gate. Her mouth dried. If her new boss was a womanizing jerk she’d soon find out.
A sound from behind made her jump. Speak of the devil. Hollister deposited her suitcase inside the door and dropped the basket of Cody’s things on her bed. His thundercloud expression had returned. “Where’s the boy?”
“The boy” again. That really disturbed her. “Graham was sound asleep. I put him in his crib.”
“Check on him regularly.”
“I will.”
Hollister suddenly seemed bigger, broader, and stronger now that he was blocking her path and they were alone in the house save the boys. He seemed to shrink the space, narrowing it down to the two of them—so much so that she could almost forget her inquisitive son.
“Is that the room Graham usually occupies when he visits?”
“He doesn’t visit.”
Surprised, she blinked. “Ever?”
“No.”
“You see him at his mother’s?”
“Ms. Aronson, my personal life is none of your business,” he all but snapped. “I’ll leave you to get settled. Feed yourself and the boys whenever you want.”
She had a dozen more questions, the most urgent being where his bedroom was located, but he was already testy, and she was afraid he’d misconstrue her question as interest. “Could we get baby gates for the top and bottom of the stairs?”
“Tell Sarah in the morning. She’ll deal with it. Good night.”
He pivoted abruptly and left.
Anna wasn’t disappointed, but she did feel strangely adrift in this unfamiliar place with no friends or allies.
She said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t need either.
The trio already occupying his kitchen brought Pierce to a dead halt in the doorway. Obviously his eight-thousand-square-foot house wasn’t big enough for him to avoid his unwanted guests.
Anna glanced up from the banana she was slicing. The last banana. The one he’d planned to eat with his breakfast.
“Good morning, Mr. Hollister.”
It had been a good morning. Until now. He’d had a long, head-clearing run then a shower. All he needed before he settled in for his first full day’s work since the kid’s arrival was food, but the slimy, messy faces of the boys in their high chairs killed his appetite. “You’re up early.”
“Your son is an early riser.”
“Kat’s son.”
Anna tilted her head, questions filling her eyes. Her reddish-brown hair slid across her shoulders. It was only then that he noticed the strands were slightly disheveled—as if she’d crawled from bed in a hurry and hadn’t had time to brush them. That led him to detecting her flushed cheeks and sleepy eyes—half-closed pale blue eyes currently narrowed on him.
“Kat is his mother?”
“Yes.”
“I fixed the boys breakfast. I hope you don’t mind that we didn’t wait for you.” She divided the small pieces of fruit between the messy trays, noisily kissed the top of each boy’s head, making them laugh, then crossed to the sink to wash her hands.
Her mid-thigh-length khaki skirt and sleeveless top displayed her slender figure and long, pale limbs in a Catholic schoolgirl kind of way. He found her I’ve-just-been-woken appearance and the faint scent of honeysuckles she left in her wake disturbingly appealing. Warning bells rang in his conscience.
“Help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.”
“About that …” She faced him, pinching her plump bottom lip between straight, white teeth as she dried her hands. “I took inventory of your refrigerator and pantry. There’s really not a lot here.”
“The cabinets are well-stocked.”
“I meant for the boys. Smoked salmon, spicy gourmet sandwich meats, salad and Portobello mushrooms may work for you, but not for them. Toddlers need easier to digest foods. What does Graham like to eat?”
He caught himself watching her pink mouth move and jerked his gaze to hers. “I don’t know.”
“Does he have any food allergies?”
Irritation replaced unwelcome interest. “I don’t know that either. The housekeeper takes care of the shopping. Make a list and give it to her when she comes in later today.”
Anna’s puzzled expression returned, creasing her freckled brow. “I’ll do that. If you’re going to join us each morning—and I’m sure Graham would love that—I can prepare enough breakfast for you, too.”
Eat with the dirty duo? No thanks. Each child had food smeared on every reachable surface. Even their hair bore traces of whatever gooey substance she’d fed them. The need to escape surged through him, but his growling stomach insisted he tough out this encounter long enough to feed himself.
“I’ll fix my own breakfast. Today and every day.” And the sooner he did so the sooner he could leave this unappetizing sight behind.
He yanked open the refrigerator and gathered the makings of a sandwich which he hastily slapped together—trying all the while to block out the annoyingly cheerful voice of the woman behind him yakking to the boys.
“Where do you keep Graham’s toys?”
Anna’s question made him pause mid-chipotle-mayo swipe. “Ask Sarah. She may have bought a few last week.”
Silence broken only by the boys’ babbling and banging on their trays filled the room.
“Graham is here…legally? Isn’t he?” Fear tinged her voice.
Pierce rested his fists on the counter. The last thing he needed was a hysterical woman calling the authorities. Not that he had anything to hide but officials poking around would only slow him down.
Still, Anna believing he’d kidnapped the kid when he’d had to force Kat to list his name on the child’s birth certificate just in case of emergencies like this one struck him as ironic. Not that he’d ever expected to be called into duty. Kat had assured him she had foolproof child care set up. She’d been wrong. But no child carrying his blood would end up in the system.
“I am the boy’s legal guardian until his mother returns. Sarah has the documentation if you must see it.”
“What happened to his previous sitter?”
“She dumped the kid on child services when his mother was…detained.”
He’d deliberately neglected to reveal Kat’s identity to keep those who might be more interested in Kat’s fame than her son’s welfare from applying for the job. There had been too many stories in the news lately of employees selling their celebrity employer’s secrets to make a quick buck. His and Kat’s relationship—however strained it might be—was private. News of it leaking wouldn’t help his company’s image, which in turn might undermine his goals for Hollister Ltd.
Concern puckered Anna’s brow. “Poor Graham. Could we swing by his mom’s place and pick up a few things?”
“Kat lives in Atlanta.”
“Oh. Too far then. Would you mind if we borrowed some things from the kitchen?”
His irritation reached boiling point. Pierce slapped the top on his sandwich. “I don’t care how you entertain the kid. Just do it. And leave me out of it.”
Her face blanched, making her freckles stand out. He experienced a sudden craving for cinnamon toast—the way his mother used to make it twenty-something years ago. He used to lick the granules off—
He shook his head to banish the thought. But damned if the nanny’s freckles didn’t look like cinnamon sprinkled on bread.
“Yessir.”
Feeling as if he’d kicked a kitten, he grabbed his plate and a bottle of water and retreated to his office. He’d hired her to deal with the trivial child-care issues. He didn’t need her or her sleepy, sexy—no, not sexy—morning eyes condemning him. The kid would be better off if Pierce kept his distance.
He turned on the television to drown out the noise coming from the kitchen and tried to concentrate on CNN while he ate. He had a team of people feeding him regular updates on Kat’s situation, but occasionally he heard news on TV before he received a report.
His turkey pastrami and imported Swiss cheese sandwich tasted like cardboard. An identical sandwich yesterday had been delicious. He’d better check the expiration dates on the meat and cheese.
More likely it was the nanny—and her incessant questions—killing his appetite. He pushed his half-eaten meal to the side of his desk, exhaled then cracked his knuckles, determined to have a productive, interruption-free day.
The sooner he chose the scholarship recipient the sooner he could get back to his real goal of doubling Hollister Ltd.’s net worth before the company’s fiftieth anniversary next year. And to do that he needed single-minded dedication and no distractions.