With Megan in her arms, Grace made her escape from the room. Wyatt still stood there in shock. He’d hired a beautiful woman. Standing there in the soft light, she’d looked gorgeous. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could erase the image and go back to seeing her as plain and his nanny and nothing more. But there was no erasing the image that taunted him now.
“Hell,” he muttered, and returned to his room to yank on his jeans. He raked his fingers through his hair and headed for the kitchen. “I knew I should have hired someone a thousand years old. A grandmother with wrinkles and experience.”
Grace was trying to mix formula with one hand, jiggling Megan who continued to cry with the other arm. Grace’s back was to the doorway, but she turned to look at him when he came in. She had her robe pulled together, but he still could imagine the delectable body underneath the cotton.
“I haven’t changed her yet,” Grace said. “If you’ll do that, I’ll have her bottle ready when you’re done and I can give it to her.”
“Sure,” he said, without thinking about what he was answering. Crossing the room, he took the baby from her. The moment he was close enough to reach for Megan, Grace looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to envelop him and pull him into depths that were filled with mystery. He could smell a fresh, soapy scent and that riotous red hair was an invitation for a man to bury his fingers in its softness. Her skin was rosy, perfect even with the smattering of freckles on her nose.
He dropped his gaze to her mouth, which was full and tempting. What would happen if he leaned down and kissed her? Even worse, as he stared at her unable to move, he could feel the tension snap in the air between them. Sparks sizzled and danced. He didn’t want any complications in his life right now, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find his nanny so physically appealing.
Tearing his eyes from her, he took the baby, too aware of his hands touching Grace as he did so. Megan had her small fist wound around the collar of Grace’s robe, pulling it open and for a brief instant, Wyatt looked at soft curves and flawless, rosy skin. His mouth went dry and he moved automatically, taking the baby and turning away.
“Come on, Megan. I’ll get you changed and fed,” he said, hurrying out of the room. His voice was husky and raw.
When in his life had he run from a good-looking woman? He was in a sweat, too aware of Grace. She hadn’t been with him twenty-four hours. He swore under his breath and looked at Megan, who was still bawling. “Sorry about my language, darlin’,” he said even though he knew she neither heard nor understood him.
He changed her diaper swiftly and scooped her up, intending to carry her back to the kitchen, but when he turned, Grace stood in the nursery doorway. She had her robe belted and buttoned, but the last button stopped above her knees. She carried the bottle and came toward him. He took a deep breath, noticing that with each step, her robe flipped open, revealing brief, tantalizing flashes of her legs. He couldn’t remember what she’d worn during the day or for her interview, but both times her legs had been covered almost to her ankles.
“Let me hold her. I’ll give her her bottle,” Grace said. “I’m not sleepy now.”
Neither was he, although for the past few nights he’d thought he would have given away the ranch just to have someone watch Megan so he could sleep.
Wordlessly, he handed over his niece, once again acutely aware of touching Grace, of standing close to her, knowing he was going through some firsts in his life. When had he ever been around a good-looking woman and not flirted with her? Never until now.
“I can feed her if you want to go back to bed,” he offered, unable to keep the gruff note out of his voice, fighting the image of Grace in bed.
“I don’t mind,” she said. “I’ve been getting plenty of sleep lately, and I’ll bet you haven’t.”
“No, I haven’t. Thanks,” he said abruptly, then turned and went back to his room. He closed the door, crossed the room and punched his pillow hard. “Hellfire!” he whispered.
Grace’s soft voice singing a lullaby came through the door, and he glared at the door with his fists on his hips. Megan was quiet, and he could hear Grace singing, hear the creak of the rocker and all too well, could picture Grace holding his niece in her arms.
What was he going to do? He raked his fingers through his hair.
Eating a piece of chocolate, he paced the room and stopped to stare out the darkened window. Yard lights lit up the fenced area around his house. Beyond that, the trees created inky shadows beneath a quarter moon. It still surprised him that all this belonged to him now. Everything had happened so fast after Hank and Olivia’s fatal accident. He needed to get back to California to see about his commercial real-estate business there. He was signed up for a bull-riding event in an upcoming rodeo in Sacramento next month. He had one in San Antonio, too, the last week of July. He could either withdraw from the California rodeo, or—what he’d planned—take Megan and her nanny with him.
Scratch that plan. He raked his fingers through his hair. He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door and could still hear Grace singing softly.
He could fire her tomorrow. Just tell her it wasn’t going to work out, pay her a huge lump sum and send her packing. He could find a day care for Megan—if Stallion Pass had such a thing. He shook his head. Megan had lost her parents, and he didn’t want to cause more upheaval in her life. He wanted her cared for at home with someone he could rely on.
Someone mature, kind and loving who had already raised children and loved them. Not a little redheaded sorceress who had a body that was sinfully tempting and a sharp mind.
He had never been in a dilemma like this. Attractive, sexy women had always been part of his life, but not as employees. He groaned and raked his fingers through his hair, pacing the room.
Through the years, he and Hank had kept in touch, and as he’d promised, Hank had always kept Wyatt’s whereabouts a secret, because Wyatt had wanted to cut all ties to Stallion Pass and his father. No one here had known anything about him except Hank. Hank hadn’t even told Olivia. Wyatt remembered when Hank had called him about his will. Hank and Olivia were making wills, and he asked Wyatt if he would be Megan’s guardian if something happened to both of them. Olivia didn’t want her parents to be Megan’s guardians, because they had little interest in their granddaughter, and Olivia considered them too old to be bringing up a baby.
Wyatt had agreed, thinking the chances of Hank and Olivia dying at the same time were very slight. But the impossible had happened.
Now here he was with little Megan and in dire need of another nanny. He didn’t like the thought of going through more interviews. He paced the room and debated what to do, until he noticed the time. Grace had stopped singing and Megan had stopped crying, but he could still hear the creak of the rocking chair.
He might as well relieve Grace and let her sleep because he wasn’t going to, anyway.
“Dammit,” he whispered, still fighting to keep images of Grace out of his head, trying to ignore the instant desire that had ignited when he’d been with her.
He was tempted to get on his motorcycle and ride through the night. He sighed. This was one time he couldn’t escape. He had a baby to care for now.
He opened the door to the nursery quietly. A small lamp was still lit. It had a pink-striped shade and circus animals around its wooden base and shed a soft halo of light, leaving corners of the room in shadows.
Grace rocked, her robe open over her knees, her head tilted against the chair. Megan was sprawled against her, her little arm around Grace’s neck. With her curls framing her face, her head back to reveal the graceful curve of her pale, slender throat, Grace looked beautiful. She was both tempting and maternal with the baby in her arms. Her eyes were closed, but she rocked steadily, so he knew she had to be awake.
Megan’s eyes were also closed, but Wyatt knew how easily those brown eyes could open.
He