The Nanny's Secret

The mouth-watering aroma drifting from the oven seemed to intensify by the moment. Trying to ignore it, he poked about in the fridge and took out a head of lettuce, a large tomato, a wedge of cheddar cheese, and a jar of mayonnaise, and set them on the counter along with a bottle of beer.

Then he reached into the bread bin for the loaf he’d bought at the deli two days ago…and came up with nothing.

What the—

“Are you looking for bread?” The tinkling voice came from behind him. “Mandy loves bread pudding so I—”

He turned to face her. “So you…?”

“I made some. And I’m afraid I used up the last of your loaf. I’d noticed the freezer in the basement, and I just assumed you’d have more loaves down there, but…” She spread out her hands in a “How was I to know?” gesture. “I can pick up some bread and rolls when I go out tonight.”

“You’re going out?”

“I have to finish my packing,” she reminded him. “The movers will be coming in tomorrow.”

“How are you going to get over there? I can’t drive you, can’t leave Mandy—”

“A friend’s coming to pick me up, after I call.”

“Why don’t you phone her now?”

“It’s a him, not a her. OK, I’ll do that. He lives in the area so he’ll be here in a few minutes, I’ll just have time to fill you in on Mandy’s day.” She whirled around, made for the wall phone and picked up the handset.

She made the arrangements, and finished by saying, “Come to the back door, Hugh. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

After putting the phone down, she took the shepherd’s pie from the oven, and set the steaming dish on the island. Next she brought out a smaller casserole. Removing its lid, she revealed piping-hot, chunky-cut carrots and green peas.

Before he could say, “Thanks, but I’ll just make myself a salad,” she spoke first.

“Mandy is so sweet!” She scooped a generous helping of shepherd’s pie onto a plate. “She gave me a tour of the house and grounds.” Adding vegetables to the plate, she prattled on about how much they’d both enjoyed their day, as she set the plate in front of him. “Now what else do you need? Oh, salt and pepper—”

“Miss Fairfax, you and I have to talk. I—”

“Call me Felicity.” She gestured toward the table. “Don’t stand there, sit down and eat your dinner. Here,” she commandeered his bottle of beer, “let me.”

Before he could stop her, she’d taken an opener from the cutlery drawer and levered off the cap. Then she set the bottle and a dimpled glass beer mug on the table.

“There,” she said. “I think that’s everything. Sorry there aren’t any buns or bread. As I said, I’ll get some when I’m out.”

Jordan felt as if he were being rolled over by a runaway train—and he snatched at something to stop it in its tracks. “You were holding that cat—” he looked at her accusingly “—just before you dished up my food!”

“I washed my hands in the laundry room. For heaven’s sake, Jordan, sit down and try not to be so difficult. Since I’m going to be head cook and bottle washer from now on, you’d better get used to—”

“I didn’t hire you as a cook!” He scowled at her. “You’re here to look after Mandy. Period. Don’t include me in your plans to play house!”

“I’m not here to play house.” Exasperation threaded her voice. “This is for real, Jordan. I want to make Mandy happy, and for that, the child needs a warm, secure and loving home. I need to be the next best thing to a mommy to her. And that means doing ‘mommy’ things, like cooking and cleaning and—”

“I don’t need a cook/housekeeper! I can cook for myself, and I hire an excellent cleaning company to—”

“But I don’t want to be your—quote—cook/housekeeper. I know I can never be Mandy’s mother, but I don’t want her to think of me as a servant, either. I want her to experience the things mothers and daughters do together—like dusting, and tidying cupboards, and making cookies, and arranging flowers, and—”

“Point taken.” His own voice sounded dour, churlish. “So,” he said grudgingly after a few moments, “am I to understand you want me to cancel the cleaning company? You’ll do everything yourself?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Look, I know you don’t like me—and to be truthful, I don’t know yet how I feel about you. So far,” her tone was dry, “I have to admit I’m not favorably impressed. But for Mandy’s sake, we must agree to live amicably. She’s had enough stress in her young life without having to experience conflict between the two people who mean most to her—”

She paused as someone knocked on the outside door.

“Excuse me,” she said. “That’ll be Hugh.” Crossing the kitchen, she unlocked the door and opened it.

On the stoop stood a very tall young man wearing a baseball cap, a striped sports shirt, and peacock blue Bermuda shorts. His grin was as wide as his shoulders.

“Hey, Fliss,” he said. “You ready?”

“Come in,” she said. “Meet my employer. I just have to pop upstairs and get my bag.” She turned to Jordan. “This is Hugh Andrews, Jordan, an old friend. Hugh, this is Jordan Maxwell. I’ll be right back…”

Jordan nodded curtly.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” Hugh said, waving a hand towards the shepherd’s pie. “Don’t let your dinner get cold. Sit down, man.”

“It’ll wait.” Jordan shoved his hands into his pockets. “So…” he searched for something to say “…you’ve known Ms. Fairfax for some years?”

“I knew her brother first, actually. He was the one who introduced us.”

“Denny.” The name grated on Jordan’s ears. It seemed as if he was fated to meet people connected to—

“No, not Denny. He was older. It was the other brother, the younger one. Felicity’s twin.”

“She has a twin?” Good Lord, another Fairfax.

“Had.” Hugh’s face sobered. “Todd. He was a fisherman—died two years ago when his boat capsized in a storm.”

As Jordan took this in, he heard steps approaching.

“Don’t say anything about it,” Hugh murmured quickly. “It devastated Fliss. She never talks about it.”

When Felicity came into the kitchen, Jordan found himself looking at her in a new light. Looking at her properly, for the first time.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she said. “Could you give me a house key?”

All he’d seen previously, because he’d never wanted to let his eyes linger on her longer than absolutely necessary, was that she had a long blond braid, a generous mouth and wide-set gray eyes. Now, as he met those rather lovely gray eyes, he saw a hint of sadness there, which was in direct contradiction to her pleasant, questioning smile.

“Jordan?” She waved a hand before him. “Do you have a spare key?”

“Sure.” He crossed to the desk under the wall phone and opening a drawer, fumbled around till he found the key he was looking for. He walked over to her. “There you are.”

She held out a hand, and he saw a fretwork of faint lines on the palm. He also saw delicate blue veins at her wrist. How fragile she was. That surprised him, because although she was slim and slightly built, he had not thought of her as “fragile.” She gave off such an aura of determination and self-confidence and energy.

He dropped the key onto her palm and she closed slender fingers around it. Her nails were neatly manicured, and buffed to a shine. Pretty hands. Feminine.