Page 8

Despite his concerns, his daughter was as happy as she’d ever been; his house was filled with the joyful chatter, music, and laughter.

And it felt like a home for the first time when she’d stepped over his threshold with her meager suitcases, a cute little guy on her hip, and the somewhat mysterious smile that had felt like a challenge from the moment he’d met her.

Napkin neatly folded, shoulders straight even perched on a stool with no back support, she twisted to face him, her head slightly tilted to the side, the movement of hair tantalizingly close to his shoulder released the scent of her shampoo, or was it her perfume?

Whichever it was, it made him think of summer, sweet and yet sultry—and seemed to be as much a part of her as her mysterious smile.

“You said you wanted to talk about Joey?”

He heard the concern in her voice and held up both hands, hoping maybe to wave it away. “There was no problem—just the opposite. She called you today?”

Ella nodded. “Yes, she suggested that she and the other girls—Evie and Liberty—might come for coffee tomorrow, and I—”

“Yeah, I know. You told her you’d check with me?”

She shrugged. “You are my employer, meaning you pay me to actually work and—”

“Ella, this is your home; you’re not on the clock.

I gotta say,” he continued on a sigh, “that it threw me a bit. I figured we must have missed a few points when we talked about your position—and I just needed to clarify, want to make sure you know how much I appreciate you being here, but that you’re not required to be on the clock twenty-four hours a day.

You’re not some kind of servant. Ella,” he continued, earnest sincerity underlining every word.

“Being Mia’s nanny doesn’t mean you can’t have fun; do stuff.

If you want to go into town for coffee, or the park, or the library—the beauty parlor—just pack up the kids and go.

Call the others to meet you and have a party! ”

“You came back up from your work to tell me that today?”

Inserting as much as emphasis into his response as he could muster, he replied, “Yeah, I did. I also told Joey you’d love her and the girls to come over, and yeah, I might have mentioned that the snacks were on them.”

“You mean morning tea ? Really, Leo? I can do the snacks —as you so eloquently call them.” She pulled her exasperated face.

“But thank you, that’s very gracious of you.

And yes, of course I knew it was okay for your sisters to be here—they have more right than I to be here—but manners decree that I check because we hadn’t discussed it. ”

He leaned his elbow on the island, wondering why they were having this discussion perched like birds on a wire when they could have been comfortable on the sofa. His eyes slid sideways. The two-seater sofa?

On second thought? The stools were fine.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I just needed you to know you’re free to do whatever you want or need to do, that I’m okay with that.”

Her eyes softened, and he was reminded she’d probably had a really busy day. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She’d ended on a sweet sigh that wrapped around him and he had a hell of a time trying to pull his eyes away from her.

His fingers itched to tuck the silky strands of her hair behind her sweet little ear; felt the all-too-familiar tightening in his jeans.

He’d meant every word, he was fine with her doing whatever she needed to do. Or wanted to…

The pressure in his jeans increased. Sadly, he wasn’t going to give himself that same permission.

Leaning forward, he went to roll his knuckle gently down that soft smooth cheek; checked himself. “Go to bed, Ella. I’ll clean up. You look beat.”

Breaking their connection, he rose to his feet.

The abruptness of his action startled her, but she didn’t argue, and he was relieved; because if she didn’t go, he would no doubt say the words clawing up his throat, And because you’re far too beautiful and way too tempting, and I don’t know if I can trust myself if you stay…

*

Ella wasn’t sure whether there was a reason Leo had conveniently appeared around the time the visitors were due to arrive, but there he was fussing with the coffee machine.

Things had been a bit tense between them last night, and she’d thought he might have made himself scarce.

However, there’d been no indication from him this morning that he’d even noticed the sparks, and yet she’d been sure she hadn’t imagined it. There had been a moment. Hadn’t there?

Confused, her gaze slipped to the two cherubs at her feet. To save everyone’s ears from permanent damage, she opened the cupboard filled with brightly colored plastic containers, which she assumed had probably been supplied by family members.

Turning, Leo watched them for a long moment, a frown forming even before he spoke. “Is this some kind of subliminal message? Should we be buying more toys, or something?”

She couldn’t deny his use of we sparked a momentary little flutter in her chest, but relieved to fall back into their lighthearted patter, she covered her reaction with laughter as she spun to him, mouth bunched in mock horror.

“You think they have a plan? Conspiring against us? Guilting us into getting them more new, sparkly playthings?”

“Maybe that’s the real meaning of the term Toddler Terror .”

Eye contact was a totally normal part of communication.

What they weren’t supposed to do was linger.

Leo’s eyes did all that, and more. They dropped to her lips, still pursed, frozen under his scrutiny, brushed across her face once more, found their way back to her mouth, now slightly parted.

Bone-melting heat curled through her, puddling in places that begged for attention, and her heart picked up its tempo to ensure she hadn’t missed the other messages.

She didn’t miss the moment his body registered its own signals in the quick intake of air, the softening of his gaze as it stayed on her lips.

She saw his chest rise, felt his gaze rove her face, pause on her lips once more, lips she had an uncontrollable urge to moisten—her heart picked up the tempo.

How did he do that to her with just a look?

This time it was she who broke the spell, turning back to her work with an earnestness it didn’t warrant.

He turned just as abruptly. “Um, yeah, so you’re okay for today?”

Adopting a nonchalance she didn’t really feel, she nodded.

“Given your lack of suitable amenities I’ve decided we should use the room on the lower floor.

The man-cave. Are you okay with that?” Without looking at him, Ella continued to artistically plate the dainty tarts, scones, and ribbon sandwiches she’d slipped out of bed early to create before the children woke.

It was typically English, and she was hoping they enjoyed the little feast.

Thoughts of her imminent guests calmed her, providing a much-needed distraction. All three women were amazing—warm, funny, and kind—and she was grateful for their friendship and would have happily included them into her circle of friends no matter where she’d met them.

It was one of the things she missed most—having that trusted friend her own age to lean on or chat with—and these ladies had eased the loneliness and filled a need for friendship she hadn’t even realized how badly she’d needed it.

Abigail, her best friend, now floating around on the Riviera, had been her only real contact; the only one she’d trusted enough to stay in touch with.

Apart from phone conversations, Abbie had made it her duty to supply her version of emergency care packages for Ella.

Usually a mix of luxury cosmetics, perfumes, hair products, and lotions.

Often even clothing. At times when Ella had desperately needed diapers, the packages almost made her cry, but they mostly made her smile.

Not because she needed those things, or even for the most part, even wanted them, but it was a connection to another human being who knew her story and understood; didn’t judge.

Someone who cared, loved her, even if that someone had absolutely no understanding about how Ella now lived—and probably never would.

“Ahhh, yeah… Go ahead and use the downstairs, it makes sense. Just tell Mia and Benny to go easy on the bourbon. It’s a top shelf; they probably wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Not breaking concentration from her task, she shot back just as dryly, “I don’t know how you can even joke about that.

Quite shocking, actually. Everyone knows a child must first be introduced to wine.

Their palates are far too undeveloped to be subjected to hard liquor this early.

It’s a gradual process. Surely you know that?

I have bottles of Babychamps all ready and waiting in the refrigerator—already fitted with nipples for Mia. ”

His snicker reached her first. “Always good to be prepared.” He’d moved to the other side of the island, his eyes scanning the platters, obviously intent on sneaking a taste, and neatly avoid eye contact.

“Though if that’s the truth, my mom has some serious questions to answer.

I figure she also owes me a whole heap of alcohol she denied me in childhood.

” His hand darted out. “Is that lemon under that meringue thing?”

A sound from the entry saved his hand from receiving a sharp slap and he grinned and strode in that direction, returning a moment later with his nearly three-month-old niece, Ruby, snug in the baby carrier.

He placed it on the island between them.

Joey followed, hauling a bulging bag, rosy-cheeked from the effort and the cold.

Both Leo and Ella fussed over the baby, earning a gummy grin in return. Then Leo lifted both Benny and Mia in turn so they could greet Ruby.