Caroline Cross - The Rancher And The Nanny

He knew exactly who was to blame.

Although he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to think about her, his thoughts zeroed in on Eve. You could have knocked him over with a feather when he’d pulled into the yard and seen her. After all these years, she was still as blond and beautiful as ever. Not to mention as self-assured. What was it she’d said about her job qualifications?

Oh, yeah. I think I have something unique to offer.

Well, she sure as hell was right about that. And for all he knew, she also wasn’t half bad when it came to taking care of kids.

His mouth twisted caustically. He wasn’t a man to hold a grudge but he wasn’t a fool, either. He hadn’t forgotten the way she’d acted toward him all those years ago, before she’d left for her fancy college. Slim and long-legged, with golden skin, clear gray eyes and the straightest, whitest teeth he’d ever seen, at seventeen she’d been an absolute charmer—with everyone but him.

Since there had never been anything wrong with his ego, he’d known damn well he wasn’t without a certain appeal of his own. For whatever reason—his size, the innate aloofness that gave him an air of being hard to get, the fact that he was an orphan—women had been drawn to him since his early teens.

But not the lovely Ms. Chandler. She’d taken an obvious dislike to him at first sight. There had been no sunny smiles, none of the warmth or practical jokes or wry teasing she bestowed on the rest of the hands. Instead, although always faultlessly polite, she’d treated him as if he smelled bad.

He sure as hell hadn’t appreciated her attitude. But he had needed the job, so he’d sucked it in and done his best to ignore her. He’d told himself she was nothing more than a kid. And that she was actually doing him a favor, since he’d known that Max Chandler would fire him in a second if he showed the slightest interest in her.

Still, it had rankled. And for all that he’d never let on, it hadn’t been long before he’d itched to take her down a peg and wipe that superior look off her pretty face. Making matters worse, on some level he’d known that the urge sprang not from a need for respect or revenge but because he wanted her. He’d wanted to thrust his hands in her silky blond hair and taste her smooth pink mouth. He’d wanted to feel her slim, golden body under his. He’d wanted to touch her all over and make her cry out his name.

Spoiled or not, she’d made him ache.

Which was all water under the bridge, he reminded himself now. Sure, she still looked damn good, maybe even better than before. And yeah, there was still something about her—the husky timbre of her voice, the graceful way she moved, the silky-soft look of her hair and skin—that seemed to go straight to his groin and play hell with the fit of his jeans. But as for her suggestion that she come to work for him…

John’s expression turned cynical. No matter how much he needed the help, or how appealing the thought of being Eve’s boss, he had no intention of indulging the whims of the Rocking C’s patrician princess.

She was all wrong for the job, for one thing. He needed someone who would take care of practical matters without caring if she mussed her hair. And that someone had to be warm, grounded and nurturing, not a spoiled social butterfly. What’s more, she had to be willing to stick around longer than it took for a coat of nail polish to dry.

When it came to Eve, he especially doubted her staying power. She could talk all she wanted about how she’d missed home and wanted to remain in the area, but he was sure it wouldn’t be very long before she changed her mind. After all, what could Lander offer compared to New York or London or Paris? And why would she suddenly feel the need for a job, when she’d spent the past few years as a lady of leisure?

Unless… He shifted, feeling a trace uneasy. He’d heard rumors a few months back that Max Chandler was in financial trouble. At the time, he’d been too preoccupied with the discovery that he had a daughter to pay much attention. When he had bothered to think about it, he’d just assumed the gossips must be wrong. Although rising expenses and a downward trend in the price of cattle had bankrupted a lot of spreads over the past few years, he couldn’t believe anyone as shrewd as Max would allow things to get out of hand. And yet, if he had, that might explain Eve’s surprising desire for employment.

The sound of squealing brakes interrupted his speculations. Looking up, he saw the school bus had finally arrived. As he watched, the hinged stop sign swung out and the red and yellow warning lights flashed on. With a swoosh of escaping air, the door folded back and Lissy appeared.

John’s heart squeezed as he took her in. She was barely bigger than a minute, with her skinny arms, pale little face and big blue eyes. And though her outfit was hardly stylish—he winced a little at the orange sweater, red-plaid skirt that fell to midcalf and the pink frilly socks with the white patent leather mary-janes—he didn’t care. She was his daughter, his flesh and blood. He felt a rush of emotion—love, awe, tenderness—so strong, it was almost painful.

Not that it mattered, he was quick to remind himself as their gazes met and she sent him a brief, uncertain smile before glancing away. No matter how strongly he felt about being a father, he and his daughter were still strangers. Her mother—a woman he barely remembered—had made sure of that.

John’s jaw tightened. He still didn’t understand why Elaine hadn’t come to him when she found out she was pregnant. Granted, the handful of times they’d spent together had been more a series of one-night stands than an actual affair. And by insisting on using protection, he had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a commitment.

But if she had just sought him out, told him that something had gone wrong and that she was carrying his child, he would have married her in an instant. He was a man who took care of his obligations.

Instead, she’d remained silent, even when she fell ill and left his child with her mother to raise. Hell, if the old lady hadn’t gotten sick herself, he never would have known he had a kid.

He shook his head. Every time he thought about all the years he’d missed with Lissy, it made him a little crazy. He couldn’t help thinking that maybe, if he’d had a chance to get to know her as a baby, to see her grow and get acquainted with her gradually, he wouldn’t be such a bust as a parent now.

Then again, maybe not. The truth was, the Lander County Boys’ Home hadn’t prepared him for fatherhood, instant or otherwise. Nor had it taught him the first thing about being part of a family. No matter how hard he tried, he didn’t know what to say or how to act, much less how to befriend a little kid—and a girl, at that.

And though he wasn’t surprised, it ate at him. He’d long ago decided he’d never marry, since what he’d seen at the orphanage—boys left alone, whether by their parents’ choices or by their parents’ deaths—had convinced him that love couldn’t be depended upon. But with Lissy it was different, since neither of them had a choice in the matter. She was here, and he was here, and he knew damn well that she deserved better than he was able to give.

Still, they’d managed all right during the summer. Due, no doubt, to the fact that his nearest neighbor’s teenage daughter had been willing to baby-sit, leaving him pretty much free to go about his business as usual. Now that school had started and he and Lis were on their own, it wasn’t so simple, however. In addition to having a twelve-thousand-acre ranch to run, he had to contend with baths, bedtimes, laundry and meals. And without someone to run interference, his normal reticence combined with his daughter’s shyness was making for increasingly long and awkward silences.

Across the way, Lissy started down the bus’s steep metal stairs. It was his signal to climb out of the truck, and he did, striding around to the other side as she walked up. “Hey, Lissy.” Opening the passenger door, he reached for her bright red backpack and tossed it onto the truck’s abbreviated back seat.

She glanced shyly up at him. “Hi.”

He reached out and boosted her carefully onto the seat. She weighed next to nothing, making him acutely aware of his own strength. Straightening, he stepped back and waited for her to fasten her seat belt. Once she did, he shut her door, walked around and got in on his own side. As soon as the bus lumbered away, he started the truck, made a tight U-turn and headed back to the ranch.

Silence reigned as he tried to think of something to say. Finally, after more than a mile, he glanced surreptitiously at her. She jerked her gaze away from him and stared down at her lap, pink touching her cheeks as she began to pluck at her skirt with her pale fingers.

He cleared his throat. “So…how was your day?”

She shrugged one thin shoulder. “Okay.”

“Anything interesting happen?”

Her fingers stilled. After a moment, she nodded. “Uh-huh.”

He waited, but she remained silent. “What?” he said finally.

To his surprise, she suddenly sucked in a breath and turned to face him. “Jenny Handelmen asked me to come to her birthday party!”

He stared at her. Her usually sober little face was lit up like a Christmas tree. “She did?”

“Uh-huh. She wasn’t going to—” her pleasure dimmed a fraction “—but her mom said she had to ask all the girls in the class.”

John suppressed the urge to ask who in the hell had felt compelled to tell her that. “Yeah, well, the important thing is you got invited,” he said awkwardly.

She appeared to think about that. “I guess.” Her face brightened. “She’s going to have pizza, and a Barbie cake and chocolate ice cream. And she said we’re gonna play games!”

He frowned, surprised by the extent of her excitement. “That’s good, huh?”

She started to reply, then appeared to reconsider. “I think so.”

“Don’t you know?”

She shook her head and her unruly mop of dark blond corkscrew curls bobbed around her shoulders, making him belatedly wonder what had become of the ponytail he’d struggled so hard to secure that morning. “I—I’ve never been to a birthday party before.”

“You haven’t?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged, her expression suddenly uncertain. “Grandma always said no.”

“Huh.” He’d known Lissy’s grandmother only briefly, but it hadn’t taken him long to form an opinion about her character. He wondered if it had been disapproval of having fun in general or the price of a gift that had made the old lady deny the kid such a simple pleasure.

“So can I go?”

He started to say yes, then caught himself. “When is it?”

“Saturday.”

“This Saturday? Tomorrow?”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “The next one.”

His heart sank. “Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What time?”

“Six. Remember, I told you, we’re gonna have pizza for dinner.”

Great. The annual Cattlemen’s Association banquet was due to kick off at seven the same night in Missoula, a hundred and twenty-five miles away. He’d already tried and failed to get a sitter, so he’d gone ahead and made a reservation for the two of them at the hotel. As outgoing president, there was no way he could miss it.

Yet something told him that Lissy wasn’t going to see it that way. He glanced at her. For once she was staring straight at him. Her eyes—the same intense blue as his own—were bright with anticipation. “Can I go? Please?”