“I told him I wanted to shoot his gun.”
Amanda just stared at Nikki, slowly shaking her head. “Tell me you’re joking.”
It was Nikki’s turn to shake her head.
“He could interpret that in so many ways!”
“Amanda.” Nikki stopped her. “It wasn’t like that.” Oh, God, it had been exactly like that. “Nothing is going to come of it, so there’s no reason to rehash the whole thing.”
“I thought you needed me to talk you down from the edge.”
“Let’s say you scared me straight and call it done. I’m going to get us some food. Stay put and keep an eye on Mickey.” Grateful for a chance to escape, Nikki slipped from her seat.
“Mickey wants chocolate cake,” Amanda said hopefully.
“Yeah, right. Mickey’s playing hooky, and his doctor said he needed to control his weight over the last month.” Leaving her sister muttering about mean doctors, Nikki headed to the back of the room toward the buffet table.
A small cluster of women had gathered near the end of the table.
“I’d do it, but I promised several people I’d address the land issue,” a slender blond woman said.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to take notes for my neighbor because she had to work late,” plump redhead added. “I have her toddler and mine. I was hoping to put both kids in childcare.”
“I wish Cindy had let us know sooner she wouldn’t be here.” The owner of the diner planted her hands on her hips and looked over the crowd.
“We all want to hear about the Anderson endowment. I just know the men are going to want to use the land for another sports park, when this is the perfect opportunity to bring a little culture to Paradise Pines.”
“What about your niece, Sarah? Can she come down and babysit?” the blonde asked.
The redhead shook her head. “She’s working at the theater in El Cajon this summer.”
Nikki stepped forward. “Perhaps I can help. I don’t mind watching the kids during the meeting.”
As one, the three women turned hopeful gazes toward her.
Trace stood in the corner, his gaze alert on the crowd, talking to a couple of local businessmen. All conversation stopped when Nikki appeared next to his group.
“Gentlemen.” She acknowledged the men with one sweeping smile as she handed a plate of food and a cup of punch to Trace. “Carry on,” she advised, as she turned on her heels and returned to the buffet.
As preoccupied as she’d been in her hit-and-run delivery of the plate in his hand, there was no way she’d gone unnoticed by the men he’d been talking to.
Sure enough, Trace pulled his glance away from her to find the two men silent, their gazes locked onto Nikki’s black-and-white curves.
“Hmm. Why do you rate the special treatment?” asked Cord Sullivan, Mayor and owner of the local nursery.
Trace sent his friend a quelling glare.
“So that’s the nanny? Nice,” said Parker, the local barber, who was loud and coarse by nature. His eyes on Nikki’s retreating rear end, the rotund barber was oblivious to Trace’s displeasure.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Parker.” Trace sent him a killer stare. “She’s my employee.”
“Yeah, that’s a sweet setup you have going.”
Trace invaded the man’s space. “What did you say?”
Parker nearly swallowed his tongue to keep another suggestive comment behind his teeth. He blinked and backed up a step. Maybe the man had more sense than Trace had given him credit for. “Hey, I’m just saying she’s fine.” Parker looked after Nikki again. “If you’re not interested, maybe I’ll give her a call.”
Over Trace’s dead body. As if Nikki would give the older man a second glance. She was all sassy honesty, and Parker was brash and oily.
“Don’t bother,” Trace said, his tone hard, his posture stiff.
“Right.” Parker nodded and winked. “Message received.”
Trace shook his head, but didn’t correct the man. Better that he think Trace and Nikki were involved. That way, the fool would leave her alone.
Not that Trace was jealous.
He had no right to that emotion.
It’s a date…The words echoed through his head and he wondered again what he’d been thinking.
And that amazing kiss.
Now, there was evidence he’d hadn’t been thinking with his mind. He couldn’t remember the last time his body had held sway over his head. Maybe being sex-starved and lonely had finally taken its toll, making him delusional.
Nikki had completely absorbed his thoughts during the brief meeting with the city council. Thankfully he’d known what the Mayor was announcing, or he’d have been clueless going into the meeting.
He could not date his nanny. More, he’d be a fool to date Nikki Rhodes. No way he could live up to her emotional standards.
Look what had happened the last time he’d let loneliness direct his actions. He’d ended up with a strained marriage, a son he didn’t know and a hot piece of fluff living in his garage.
Okay, that was harsh. But he needed to stay real and he had no business admiring the strength and fortitude hidden under frivolous ruffles and lace. Besides, they were totally incompatible. She liked to chat and he wanted silence. She had big-time control issues and he liked to be in charge. She loved kids and he couldn’t even relate to his own son.
Bottom line: he had nothing in common with the loving and dedicated Ms. Rhodes.
Hell, if Donna had lived Trace had no doubt they would have ended up another divorce statistic. Just like his mom and his old man.
Best he forget he’d ever mentioned a date.
Besides, she probably wouldn’t even be around to accept an invitation. If a teaching job came along she’d be off and on her way, leaving him and Mickey to pick up the pieces of their lives without her.
No—wait. That had been his mother.
Oh, yeah, serious trouble. In spades. It was not a good thing when he was comparing his nanny to his long-lost mother.
Chapter Eight
“HEY, little boy, we’re home.” Nikki parked the stroller on the front deck, unstrapped Mickey and lifted him up. “Are you ready for a snack? I’m ready for a cold drink.”
She unlocked the door and stepped inside. As usual she went to set the diaper bag on the sofa, and just stopped herself from dropping it on Trace. He lay stretched out on his back, fast asleep.
“Oops,” she whispered. “Daddy’s taking a nap.”
Trace home in the middle of the day was far from usual.
Still in his uniform, including gun belt, he looked as if he’d come in, sat down and crashed.
“Daddy night-night?”
“Shh, yes—Daddy is sleeping.” Not wanting to disturb Trace, she took Mickey to the kitchen and put him in his highchair with some grapes. A glance at the clock on the microwave showed she and Mickey had been away just over an hour. How long had Trace been here? And how long could he stay?
Checking to make sure Mickey was okay, she picked up the phone and called the Sheriff’s