“And are you planning to eat?”
“Of course.”
“When and where?” he persisted.
“Upstairs. In my room.”
His eyes narrowed. “Except on her day off, Sylvia had dinner with us every night.”
“I know. But...” There was no way to put this into words that he would understand. In her interview, he’d been straightforward about the fact that he wasn’t looking for anything other than a nanny. To adequately explain why she wouldn’t eat dinner with him, she would have to confess her attraction. Other than throwing herself at him, that was probably the fastest way to lose this job.
Justin was staring at her. “It just feels wrong to me for you to segregate yourself. Too Upstairs, Downstairs.” He shook his head. “Or like you’re an orphan in a Charles Dickens book.”
That was ironic. Not only wasn’t she an orphan, she had more family than she knew what to do with.
He settled Kyle in the high chair then met her gaze. “Emma, I’d like you to have dinner with us.”
“Is that an order?”
“Of course not. It just feels...” He shrugged, as if he didn’t know how to put it into words either. “I’m trying to maintain as much family atmosphere as possible for Kyle.”
“I understand.” And she did. “Thank you.”
“I’ll set another place at the table,” he said.
“Okay. Thanks.”
She felt pleased yet awkward at the same time. And guilty that this extraordinarily nice man didn’t know the whole truth. A few minutes later the two of them were sitting in their respective places at a right angle to each other with Kyle in the middle. Emma cut chicken, cooked carrots and potato into pieces big enough for the baby to pick up with his chubby fingers but small enough so that he wouldn’t choke.
Justin filled his own plate and took a bite of meat. “This is as good as it smells.”
“I’m glad.” She spooned some of everything for herself and tasted a little bit of each, satisfied that it was all right. “It should fill you up.”
“A hearty meal for a cold night.” He glanced at his son, who was busy with his food, part eating part playing. “Kyle approves, too.”
“Do you like chicken salad?”
“Yeah.” He met her gaze. “Why?”
“I can make some with the leftovers. A little celery, cucumber. Maybe dill pickle chopped up?”
“Sounds good to me.”
She knew from her two weeks of orientation with Sylvia that he sometimes took lunch with him to Mercy Medical Clinic. “I can make a sandwich for you if you’d like. Maybe a piece of fruit and macaroni salad.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great.”
“I’m happy to do it.” Emma was being well paid for her work, but it didn’t feel like work because she wanted to please him. That’s what bothered her the most.
Justin chewed a carrot then glanced at his son, who had little orange pieces of vegetable all over his face. “Tell me what he did today.”
“He was an angel.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it. What was this scoundrel really up to?”
She smiled. “It’s the absolute truth. He’s practically perfect. And by that I mean perfectly normal for his age.”
“What you’re diplomatically telling me is that my son got into everything. Or tried.”
“Yes, he did.”
“So, how is that perfect?”
“It’s exactly what he should be doing. Natural curiosity in a child is completely appropriate. Exploring his environment is his job.” She smiled. “And he’s really good at it.”
“He kept you running?”
She nodded. “It’s my job to make his surroundings secure. If I had a chore to do, I set up an area with a safe zone for him. And he loves to help. Folding towels, for instance. Did you know he loves the laundry basket?”
“I didn’t.” He tousled the boy’s downy, light brown hair. “Way to go, buddy.” In answer, Kyle slapped the high-chair tray, splattering food.
“And anything that needed doing in a nonsafe zone waited until he was down for a nap.” She sounded like a walking baby textbook, but it was important that he know how his son was being cared for. “He took a long one this afternoon, but now he looks tired to me. I have a feeling he’s growing.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Look at the way he’s eating.”
Justin laughed ruefully. “It’s really hard to judge how much is actually going in.”
“I gave him quite a bit and he’s not wearing that much of it,” she said, smiling at the grubby boy. “Do you like it, Kyle?” He shook his head but was grinning. “Silly.”
“That’s my boy.”
“He also needs more sleep, which is an indication of a growth spurt.”
“Good to know.”
There was silence for several moments and to fill it she said, “How was your day?”
“Calm. Routine. On schedule.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Mostly surgery follow-up appointments and I’m happy to report all the patients followed doctor’s orders and are progressing well. Then there were consultations for elective surgical procedures. Stuff like that.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary? No emergencies?”
“No. It’s a good day when that happens.”
“I’m glad.”
Uneventful was a good thing. Her life had been just the opposite of that lately. And this dinner was no exception. On the surface it was a peaceful, seemingly normal meal, but she couldn’t help feeling as if talking about their respective days blurred the line between employer and employee.
Maybe the mountain air was messing with her mind. Lack of oxygen was doing a number on her head. What felt like thirty seconds ago, she’d broken her engagement to a man she’d learned was a liar and cheat. Now here she was thinking flirty thoughts about the employer who signed her paycheck and praying she didn’t forget herself and kiss him goodbye as he went off to work.
The right thing would be to confess to him the whole truth, then offer her resignation, but she couldn’t. Not yet. For the time being she had to keep her secret.
Chapter Three
“Our first trip to the grocery store, little man.”
Not surprisingly, Emma heard no verbal response from the rear seat where Kyle was happily staring out the window of her midsize SUV. It had arrived from California, and Justin had approved the safety factor. He’d installed the baby’s car seat himself, even though all child-related equipment was in her sphere of expertise.
It was kind of endearing how seriously Dr. Flint took his responsibilities as a father. That was another check mark in her employer’s “pro” column. Not that she was actively looking for “cons,” but it would help. In the few days since she’d become the solo nanny, her attraction to him hadn’t subsided.
She drove down Main Street and turned left into the parking lot of the town’s biggest market, appropriately named The Grocery Store. There were smaller stores for gourmet olive oil, coffee, health foods and specialty items, but this was where Sylvia