“I would have heated the casserole if I’d known about it,” Amanda said. “Ms. Brown mentioned it when I took her soup to her room.”
Noting the way his daughter gobbled down her sandwich instead of picking at her food the way she usually did, Jack shook his head. “No, this is fine. It was kind of you to feed us.”
“Not exactly a celebration dinner,” Amanda said with a wry smile.
“Celebration?” Jack repeated.
“For the Eastco account.”
“How did you know I got it?”
She rolled her eyes. “As if they stood a chance.”
He felt a curious rush of pleasure at her praise. “You’re assuming I always win.”
“Safe assumption. I’ve seen you in action,” Amanda said, then turned to Lilly. “I think your dad deserves a cookie. What do you think?”
Lilly stared at him, then nodded at Amanda. “Can I please have another cookie?” she whispered.
Amanda gave a mock gasp. “Another cookie? But you’ve already had two today.” She bent closer to Lilly. “Are you sure you’re not a cookie monster in disguise?”
Lilly giggled, and the sound surprised Jack again. He gazed at Amanda and made a quick, instinctive decision. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you stay here tonight?”
Amanda did a double take and looked at Jack as if he’d sprouted horns. “I—I don’t have any clothes for work tomorrow and—”
“I can take you by your apartment on the way to the office,” Jack said, thinking he’d never seen her flustered.
She blinked. “And my cat,” she managed. “I need—”
“Do you have a neighbor you can call?”
“Well, yes—”
“Good,” Jack said, knowing he was railroading her. He hadn’t seen his daughter this happy in weeks, and if Amanda was the magic potion, then he sure as hell didn’t want her leaving yet. “Then it’s settled. You probably want to get out of those wet clothes. I’ll see if I can find something for you to put on after your bath.”
He returned shortly with one of his terry robes and a pair of silk pajamas he’d never worn. When his wife Sandra had left two years ago, he’d gotten rid of every remaining article of clothing she’d left behind. He’d wanted no sign of her left in the house. She’d taken his name, his money and his daughter, and left him with bitter emptiness. Sandra might be dead, but the damage she’d caused continued.
The complete and utter sense of failure he’d felt at the time of the divorce echoed through him again as he watched Amanda with his Lilly through Lilly’s open bedroom door.
Brooding, Jack absently noticed Amanda had climbed into Lilly’s small bed with his daughter as she read and sang with her instead of sitting in the chair beside Lilly’s bed as Ms. Brown did. After she finished The Little Engine That Could and a chorus of “Eensy Weensy Spider,” Jack entered the room and kissed Lilly good-night.
Amanda left the door cracked and joined him in the hallway. “I think she’s a goner.”
“Are you sure you didn’t miss your calling?” Jack asked her.
She met his gaze. “What do you mean?”
“You’re so good with children. Did you ever think about working with them in some professional way?”
She gave a half smile and shook her head. “I got my experience the natural way. I had a younger brother and younger sisters. My father died when I was young, so my mother counted on me a lot. Then when my mother died, they needed me even more.”
“I forgot about your family,” he mused, wondering why he hadn’t paid more attention. “I’ve noticed the pictures on your desk, but you don’t mention them often.”
“Oh, I love them all,” Amanda said, her voice full of affection. “Both my sisters received academic scholarships to college, and my brother operates his own successful home-remodeling business. I’m very proud of them, so don’t get me started,” she warned him. “I won’t stop and I’ll end up boring the boss to death.”
“I’m not bored,” he told her. “Would you like a nightcap before you turn in?”
Amanda hesitated, a flash of uncertainty sweeping across her face. For a second he thought she might refuse and felt a strange sting of disappointment.
“Thank you. That would be nice,” she finally said, and pulled the lapels of his robe closer together as they walked toward the den.
“The robe swallows you.”
“Uh—well—”
“You’re not going to lie to be polite, are you?”
Amanda’s cheeks bloomed with color. “Okay, yes, it does. But it’s not a problem. It’s just for one night.”
He headed for the bar on the other side of the room. “What would you like to drink?”
“White wine,” she said, sitting stiffly in an overstuffed chair. “I don’t have a sophisticated palate. One glass usually makes me sleepy.” She gave an earnest but strained smile. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you. The decorator was highly recommended,” he said, placing the wineglass in her hand. He’d had the entire house redone after his marriage broke up, but he didn’t impart that information to Amanda. He noticed her toes were curled into the Oriental carpet and he wondered about her uneasiness.
She nodded. “Whoever it was did a nice job.”
Silence followed. Despite her tension, her presence reminded him of background music. He studied her again. Her hair, still slightly damp from her shower, was pushed behind her ear on one side and curved over her cheek on the other. Her skin was fresh-scrubbed and glowing. The robe gaped slightly at the neck, revealing the gentle curve of her breast; and lower, where she crossed her legs, he saw one silky calf.
He glanced at her face again and something about the restlessness in her dark eyes was sexy to him. He took a quick drink of whiskey at the thought.
If women were music, then he always chose loud, showy numbers, the better to make him forget his marriage failure. Amanda was background music. Too soft, too gentle. With her, he would have time to think.
Strolling closer to her, he propped a hand on a cherry end-table and looked down at her. “You’ve worked for me for four years now. Why are you uneasy with me?” he asked.
She sucked in a quick breath of surprise and glanced away. “I’m not. Well, maybe I am,” she said, running her sentences together. “It’s a different situation. A little odd. I’m wearing your robe, caring for your daughter, drinking a glass of wine with you.” She finally looked up at him. “It’s not the office.”
“As you were singing ‘Eensy Weensy Spider’ with my daughter, it occurred to me that aside from the fact that you are the best assistant I’ve ever had, I don’t know much about you.”
She nervously brushed her hand against her neck. “There’s not much to know,” she said, and when he didn’t fill the silence, added, “I’m kinda quiet.”
Determined to dissolve her discomfort, he took another drink and nodded. “For the next five minutes, forget I’m your boss.”
She gave him a doubtful look and shook her head.
“It’s an order.”
Still doubtful, she sighed. “I’ll try.”