But Leah had a right to know what was going on with John. She’d had what now seemed to be the glossy version from her father and stepmother. Apparently they had given her just enough information—distinctly shaded to the positive—to lure her back to Missoula. And with her guard down, she had been totally unprepared for the problems they must have known she would surely encounter.
Of course, she couldn’t claim to be totally innocent. She had gone along with the plan easily enough, she acknowledged, fumbling along the wall inside the doorway for the switches that turned on the porch and entryway lights. She’d believed what they’d wanted her to believe because she’d wanted to believe it, too.
Her father and stepmother had needed her help—help she’d been easily able to afford to give during her summer vacation. They’d been sure that if anyone could deal with John’s moodiness while also providing a stable home for Gracie, it was she. And with her experience working as a teacher at a private girls’ school in Chicago, Leah had known she could also help Gracie catch up on the schoolwork she’d missed due to her injuries.
Ruefully, she now considered all the questions she hadn’t asked Cameron and Georgette, and remembered, much too late, all the words they had used to describe John Bennett—bitter, angry, not himself—which she had originally chosen to ignore. There had even been a comment about John running off two nannies in the past nine months—a comment she should have questioned more closely, but of course hadn’t.
Obviously they hadn’t left because he’d been nice to them, Leah acknowledged as she walked back to the car to retrieve her suitcase. And he certainly hadn’t been nice to her, either. But she wasn’t just any young woman hired through a professional agency to look after his daughter. She was Leah—his once and always friend. Or so she’d believed until he’d dismissed her without so much as a backward glance.
She could leave of course. She could just get into her car and drive back to Chicago. No one would blame her, not even her father and stepmother. But who would look after Gracie then? Who would care for the little girl as willingly and lovingly as she would? Not Cameron and Georgette—they were leaving for her father’s summer lecture series in Europe early tomorrow morning. There wasn’t anyone else Leah could think of.
So she would have to stay—or live with more guilt than her conscience could bear. But she wasn’t going to tolerate open animosity from John Bennett, she vowed as she opened the trunk of her car. She shouldn’t have to. He had been her friend once—her very best friend—and she was there for a very good reason.
As she had every intention of reminding him once she’d had a chance to gather her courage and stand up to him.
Chapter Two
“Are you angry with Aunt Leah, Daddy?” Gracie asked, her concern evident in the hush of her voice and the frown furrowing her brow.
Mentally cursing himself for upsetting his daughter on her first night back at home, John tightened his hold on her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“No, Gracie, I’m not angry with your aunt Leah,” he said as they made their way up the staircase to the second floor.
Well, not any angrier than he’d been with anyone else intent on interfering with his life lately, he admitted to himself, not counting Gracie of course. But then, his daughter wasn’t any interference at all, never had been, and to his way of thinking, never would be. From the moment of her birth, she had been the light of his life.
“But you sounded kind of growly when you talked to her, Daddy,” Gracie insisted.
“Growly, huh?” he replied with a wry smile.
What a way she had of describing how he’d sounded! He smiled slightly, musing that his verbal release had resulted from the unfortunate mix of emotions he’d been experiencing all afternoon. Since Leah’s father had first advised him earlier that day that Leah was the so-called nanny they had found to help him look after Gracie for the summer, John had been angry and resentful and, to his consternation, oddly unsettled, as well.
He was used to the anger. It had gone hand in hand with the pain of losing Caro in such a tragic, senseless, unexpected way. Resentment, too, had been a good friend in the months since his wife’s untimely death. He didn’t want sympathy, because to his way of thinking he didn’t deserve it. He, and he alone, had been responsible for Caro’s death. He had earned every agonizing moment he’d lived since that fateful night, and then some.
The restiveness he had been battling the past few hours was something else altogether, though—a feeling he most definitely didn’t want to indulge in, especially in regard to Leah Hayes.
A heart thrum of tension had lanced through him at just the thought of having her in his life again on a daily basis—close enough to see, to touch. He’d wanted to roar like the caged and wounded beast he’d felt himself to be for far too long. When he’d actually had to open his door to her and meet her clear, level gaze face-to-face for the first time in eight years, he’d been stirred by a nearly uncontrollable urge to pull her into his arms, hold her close and confess, without any constraint, the many sins he’d committed.
It was lucky for all concerned that he had only come across as “growly.” And he would have to put a lid on even that particular tone of voice, at least whenever Gracie was around, he thought as he set her down just inside the bathroom doorway and switched on the overhead light.
“Yes, Daddy, very growly,” she assured him. Then, tugging at his hand, she added gravely, “We can go back to Grandpa and Grandma’s house if you need some more private time. Only, we’ll have to come back here again tomorrow ’cause somebody else is going to be staying there while they’re gone on their big trip.”
Squatting on his heels in front of his daughter, his heart twisting at the painfully tentative look in her eyes, John smoothed a hand over his daughter’s tumble of blond, silky curls.
“I’m so glad you’re home again, Gracie, even if I didn’t exactly sound like it when I came to the door. And you’re staying right here with me from now on,” he vowed. “I’ve had enough private time the past few weeks to last a very long while.”
“What about Aunt Leah? Are you glad she’s here, too?”
“Are you glad, Gracie?” John asked, attempting to avoid telling the little girl an outright lie.
“Oh, yes. Really, really glad.”
“Then I’m glad that you’re glad. Now wash your face and hands and put on your pajamas while I turn down the blankets on your bed, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.” As he stood upright again, she asked shyly, “Will you read a story to me?”
“I most certainly will. Any special requests?”
“You choose tonight.”
Leaving Gracie to get ready for bed on her own—something she had insisted on doing now that she would be starting first grade soon—John walked slowly down the hallway to the little girl’s room. It was just across from the bedroom he’d shared with Caro, and unlike most of the rest of the house, it was clean and tidy. The cherry furniture was freshly polished, there were clean linens on the canopy bed, Gracie’s books, dolls and stuffed animals were neatly arranged on the built-in shelves, and her toys were stored in the hope chest that matched the bed, dresser and nightstand.
Everything in the room was impeccably tasteful, everything chosen by Caro to suit a little girl as she grew into young womanhood. A transition Caro would have delighted in overseeing, but now never would, thanks to him.
Willing away that particularly unprofitable train of thought, John crossed to one of the two windows facing out over the front lawn, meaning to close the wide-slatted blinds. He saw that Leah had turned on the porch light, and at the edge of its glow, he saw her opening the trunk of her car, then reaching for a suitcase.
In the years they’d been