was modest as well as good. “But I
“Sure. Someone has to look after Colton. I have a business to run.” He stood up, leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You can barely keep your eyes open, so I’m going to go before I get thrown out. I’ll be by to talk with you in the morning. We can work out the arrangements.”
Her skin heated where he’d touched her and she wished he’d kissed her on the mouth instead of the cheek. “You’ll, ah, have to tell me what you’re looking for in a nanny. I’m not sure who is available right now but I can find out and give you a list.”
He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t bother with staff,” he said. “I prefer to work with the people in charge.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You want me to be the nanny? But that would mean living with you. In your house.”
He smiled. “I know. Still think I’m a saint?”
Heat filled her. Heat from his nearness and her memories of the kiss they’d shared. Heat and a desire to say yes. Even if it was just for a few days, she wanted to see what it was like to spend time with someone like Jonathan Steele.
“I sometimes take jobs,” she said slowly. “If we’re really busy or it seems like I would be a good match for the client.”
“I think we’ve already proven we’re a good match,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And with that he was gone. Cynthia was left alone with Alfie, the bear and her whirling thoughts. Jonathan was completely out of her league. She had no business trying to make herself fit into his world. If she tried, she was practically promising herself heartache. The man appealed to her in fifty different ways, yet she knew that he couldn’t possibly share her feelings.
“A smart woman would simply walk away,” she told the bear. And she’d always thought of herself as smart. Yet she knew she wasn’t going to be this time. She could only hope that she wasn’t going to regret her impulsiveness.
What was he doing here? Jonathan asked himself the question late the next afternoon as he sat in the middle of the chaos that was the Morgan living room.
Brad and Brett, the ten-year-old twins were sprawled out on the carpet, arguing about a board game they were playing. Betsy was fussing, bringing drinks and snacks, while Cynthia stretched out on the sofa, a handmade afghan tucked around her legs. Jenny sat in the wing chair by the window.
He had no business being here, he thought, trying to avoid looking at both Cynthia and Jenny. He felt awkward and out of place. But he was trapped by a situation of his own making and he had no one to blame but himself. He’d been the one teasing Cynthia the previous night, playing a grown-up game with someone who was still very much an innocent. He’d allowed himself to consider the possibilities of having her under his roof, but he’d ignored the reality of who and what she was. He didn’t have the right to seduce her and by suggesting she be the one to help him with his nephew, he’d invited her into his home. Now he was stuck with her and all the temptation she provided.
Even as he told himself to look away he found his gaze drawn back to her pretty face. She had wide hazel-green eyes, so different from the rest of the Morgan family. They all had blue eyes. Cynthia must take after her father in that way. She was also much taller than her mother-another legacy from her paternal side. But her features were similar to Betsy’s. He also caught the likeness in the tilt of her head and her quick smile.
He told himself he had no business thinking of Cynthia that way. She was several years younger than himself. Her lack of worldliness widened the gap between them. If she was really going to work in his home, then he had to forget their kiss and the attraction he felt, and replace it with a cordial, worklike attitude.
A soft cooing sound caught his attention. Reluctantly he looked at Jenny and the wrapped bundle she held. Child services had delivered his nephew to him less than two hours before. At Cynthia’s suggestion, the social worker had come to the Morgan house. Colton would spend the next couple of days here until Cynthia was well enough to begin her duties at Jonathan’s house.
“Nervous?”
He turned at the sound of her voice and caught her watching him. “About?”
She smiled. “I’ve seen you trying to avoid looking at Colton. Small babies frequently make new fathers nervous, so I’m guessing he’ll have the same effect on his uncle. After all, you told me that you hadn’t spent much time around him.”
Today was the first time he’d seen Colton, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Cynthia had her own particular views about families and their relationships. He didn’t share her opinion, but he wasn’t going to get into an argument, either. Not with Jenny and the twins as interested bystanders.
“I thought Colton would do better in the hands of a professional.” He winked at Jenny. His gesture earned him a shy smile.
“He’s a wonderful baby,” the teenager said. “I’ve been going on jobs with Cynthia since she started her business and I’ve always loved being with the babies.”
“Jenny’s a natural,” Cynthia told him.
Betsy bustled in with a plate of freshly baked cookies. Jonathan could see the steam still rising from them. The boys scrambled to their feet at the sight and swarmed toward their mother.
“Company first,” she said, stepping around them and approaching Jonathan. “I hope you like chocolate chip.”
“Who doesn’t?” he said lightly, taking two cookies.
She passed the plate around, then had to take it back from Brad and Brett when they each grabbed two handfuls. The boys were good-natured about replacing the extra cookies.
Jonathan took a bite of the still-warm cookie. While he appreciated the gesture, he felt out of place in the house. A part of him could appreciate the warmth of the well-worn furniture and the way the children obviously cared about each other. But appreciation was different from understanding. Here, in the small living room, with the open game box scattered and magazines stacked haphazardly on an end table, was the real heart of a home. His house might be several times larger, but that only gave it more room for the silence to echo. Not that he was interested in what these people had. He still believed that families were an invention of the devil.
Betsy wiped her hands on her jeans, then settled on the sofa by Cynthia’s feet. She placed a hand on her daughter’s knee. “Did Cynthia tell you that your contribution to start-up capital is the reason she was able to form Mother’s Helper?”
Jonathan swallowed uncomfortably. “She mentioned it last night. It’s not a big deal.” Instead it was a nice tax write-off and a way to grease wheels in the community. Not that he could explain that to anyone in this room. He doubted any one of them had ever had a cynical thought in their collective lives.
“We think it’s a very big deal,” Betsy insisted.
“Jonathan’s not interested in having a statue erected in his honor,” Cynthia said, giving him a teasing smile. “He told me so last night.”
He’d also told her that he was a bastard, but she hadn’t bothered to listen. Or had she? Had she figured out that he was nothing like her? That he was dangerous? That the only thing that would prevent him from following up on their impressive kiss was a thin veneer of civility that said a man like him had no business preying on the innocents?
“Do you think he knows?” Jenny asked. She looked at the baby and blinked several times. “Colton. Do you think he knows his parents are gone?”
Jonathan was stunned to see tears in her eyes, as if the thought of the boy being on his own was painful to her.
“I know how I felt when Dad died,” she whispered.
He didn’t know what to say to that. If he wasn’t careful they would start acting
