The Nanny's Double Trouble. Christine Rimmer

head. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “She’s cooler. I think the fever might have broken.”

      “Wonderful.”

      He rocked slowly, back and forth. In his arms, Frannie looked so peaceful. Safe. Content. “I am sorry.” His fine mouth twisted, and a hot flush swept up his thick neck. “For barging in on you. I should have knocked. But Jake was calling for you and for Frannie. I picked him up and he pointed at your room...”

      Did they really need to talk it over?

      Maybe. After all, it could be good, right? To be frank and open about it? They could clear the air, so to speak. “I left both doors open. It’s not your fault. Of course you came right in.” How red was her face? As red as his? Oh, God. “It’s not a big deal, Daniel.”

      “You’re right,” he said and swallowed hard. “Not a big deal at all.”

      And it wasn’t.

      * * *

      Oh, but it was.

      For Daniel anyway.

      Nothing had changed. But for every minute of the rest of that day, Lillie’s cousin was suddenly very much on his mind.

      Not to mention wreaking havoc lower down.

      His longtime sexual abstinence had never felt so painful. Could he be more inappropriate? All of a sudden, he was a man obsessed. Who did that? Who thought like that?

      He needed to stop. Stop thinking of her, fantasizing about her, imagining what it might be like if they...

      No. Uh-uh. That wasn’t going to happen. Ever. And it shouldn’t happen.

      She was family. She was great with the kids. He no longer felt that she judged him for the troubles between him and Lillie during the last years of her life.

      They were, well, friends now. Weren’t they? He counted on Keely, enjoyed talking to her. Liked having her around.

      No way would he mess with that.

      He wasn’t even considering messing with that.

      Uh-uh.

      He needed to focus on the positive and forget the smooth white curves of her shoulders shining wet from her shower, not think about those full, tempting breasts, her dusky pink nipples puckered and tight. He needed to block out the memory of that tiny, shining rivulet of water sliding down the center of her, filling her navel, spilling over and dribbling lower, into the water-beaded landing strip of red-brown hair that did nothing to cover the ripe swell of her mound.