Her Necessary Husband. Sharon Swan

      Chapter One

      Something told Jenna Lorenzo that Ross Hayward would not be hiring her as his live-in housekeeper the minute he opened the front door.

      Only moments earlier she’d been admiring that door, painted the palest of yellows, and the wreath of sage green leaves topped with delicate dried flowers that hung under a high arch gracefully etched into the smooth wood. Like the rest of the modern two-story home built of narrow bricks shaded a pristine dove gray, the door was a tribute to conservative elegance. Even the well-trimmed front lawn with its neatly shaped borders of low plants sporting a quiet mix of early September blooms was designed to bid visitors a gracious welcome.

      Serene, Jenna thought. That was the word that came to mind. She had never worked—and certainly never lived—anywhere quite like this place.

      And she wouldn’t be working, or living, here. The polite smile that didn’t quite reach the deep-set navy eyes of the tall man standing in front of her had her all but positive of that.

      “Come in, Jenna,” he said in a low voice she’d by no means forgotten from the initial interview he’d conducted several days earlier at Dewitt’s Diner. Despite the business nature of the lunch, she’d felt at ease in the familiar setting, having indulged in one of the downtown diner’s juicy hamburgers along with a mound of crisp fries many times with her friends when she was growing up in Harmony, Arizona.

      She didn’t, however, feel anywhere near that same level of ease right now. The truth was that when it came to casually comfortable surroundings, the Hayward home was an entirely different matter.

      Just how different Jenna realized full well the moment she stepped into the entryway and found herself confronted by a landscape of sheer white. Carpet, walls, ceiling. Even what living room furniture she could see through an arched opening at one side of the hall featured a white-on-white design. Only a group of pastel prints simply framed in silver and hung at well-spaced intervals provided any hint of true color.

      Everything sparkled in the sun slanting through lacy white curtains. Nothing was out of place. It was a scene straight out of a trendy home magazine.

      But this was real life, and there were children living here. “How in the world does it stay clean?” Jenna wondered out loud.

      “We’ve learned to be careful,” the man at her side said.

      The attractive man at her side, she couldn’t help thinking as they made their way to the living room. At one time, as had many girls in town, she’d had a major crush on the Golden Boy—which was how her adolescent eyes had come to view him—with his sun-streaked brown hair and flashing grin. Somehow it had only seemed natural when he’d started dating Cynthia Morgan during his high school days.

      A slim blonde with the lightest of blue eyes, Cynthia had swiftly become the other half of the Golden Couple—a couple some had envied for their popularity. They’d married shortly after both graduated from college, Jenna had learned from friends on her recent return to Harmony. It had been, by all accounts, an excellent marriage, one that had quickly produced a beautiful baby daughter, and eventually another.

      And then, almost three years ago, Ross Hayward had tragically lost not only his wife but also his mother when the car Cynthia had been driving skidded off a snowy road and crashed.

      “Have a seat,” he said.