A Nanny In The Family. Catherine Spencer
as Mother Teresa. She was practically drooling all over Thomas when they came back from the beach and he seemed just as enthralled with her. It’s obviously a match made in heaven.”
“I agree. It’s the reason behind her being hired that I’m having a tough time coming to grips with. It just hasn’t sunk in yet that Jim and Arlene won’t be coming back.”
“I know. I can’t believe it, either.”
He shook his head, impatient with himself. “Death doesn’t get any easier to accept. I’m still haunted by that kid I lost on my last deployment. Now losing Jim, too—” He bowed his head, his chest aching. “I feel so bloody helpless.”
Louise shifted closer on the banquette until her knee was rubbing against his and her breast nudged his arm. “Pierce, stop it! That seaman’s death was no more your fault than your cousin’s accident was. Sadly, these things happen sometimes but the best thing we can do is go on with our lives. And, sweetie, you’ve become very much a part of mine. You do know that, don’t you?”
She increased the pressure on his arm, reminding him that she had very nice breasts indeed, and looked at him from eyes grown heavy-lidded with promise. He felt his own flesh tightening in response and suddenly wished they were alone instead of in a restaurant, and that he could lose himself inside her. Perhaps then he would forget, if only for a few minutes, the picture of Jim and Arlene as they’d looked when he’d gone to identify the bodies.
“How hungry are you, Louise?”
They’d become lovers about a month ago and she knew exactly what prompted the question. “Starving,” she purred, rolling her martini olive into her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “But not for chateaubriand. Let’s go, Pierce.”
She lived about half a mile from him, in a house she’d spent a small fortune renovating. Everything about it, from its marble-floored entry to the gold faucets in her bathroom to the dozen or so water candles arranged around her bed, reflected her sybaritic tastes. “There are glasses and champagne chilling,” she cooed, nodding at the bar refrigerator concealed in the lacquered wall unit at one end of her bedroom. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
He opened the champagne, stood it in a bucket of ice, then lit six of the candles. Strolling to the window, he loosened his tie and checked his watch one more time. Almost twenty-one hundred hours. Was Tom settled for the night? Should he phone to make sure everything was going smoothly with the new nanny?
She was a pretty little thing and seemed capable enough. Not that the two were related, but it seemed to him that it would be easier for a kid of four to take to someone who looked a bit like his mother than it would to someone old enough to be his grandmother.
Not that the dark-haired, dark-eyed Miss Bennett bore much resemblance to Arlene, who’d been blond. But they were about the same age and of similar height and build. Though perhaps the nanny weighed a couple of pounds less—about a hundred and ten, he figured, and they hung remarkably well on her five foot, five inch frame.
“Why, Pierce, here I am all ready to be seduced and you haven’t even gotten around to removing your shoes!”
Louise swanned back into the room, half dressed in one of those floating negligee things that revealed more than it covered and which he’d previously seen only on posters pinned up in lockers aboard ship. All he had to do was tug lightly on the piece of ribbon holding it closed and the whole contraption would slide down around her feet. The thought, coupled with the amount of exquisite ivory flesh already on display, should have left him straining for release.
It didn’t.
“I’ll pour the champagne,” he said, and knew, from the way she flounced over to the bed and spread herself out against the pillows, that she was disappointed by his delaying tactics.
“Aren’t you going to join me, darling?” she pouted, accepting her glass of champagne. “It’s lonely in this big old bed without you.”
Before he could stop himself, he glanced again at his watch.
“It’s only five past nine, Pierce,” she protested, sighing audibly. “No one’s going to report you AWOL if you stay out another hour or two.”
She was ticked off and he couldn’t blame her. “Sorry,” he said yet again, dropping down beside her on the bed and stuffing a pillow behind his head. She was the only woman he’d ever met who actually used satin sheets. He found them very slippery.
“You’re forgiven.” She smiled, a lazy, sexy smile, and leaned over to unbutton his shirt. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
Her hands were cool and very skillful. Were the nanny’s? Would she handle Tom gently when she lifted him out of his bath?
He shook his head irritably. Of course she would! She was a nurse, for Pete’s sake!
“Come back, sweetness,” Louise whispered, raking her long fingernails over his chest with just enough pressure to indicate she didn’t care for his preoccupation.
“Hey,” he said, trapping her hand, as a thought occurred to him, “is the phone turned on in here? I mean, if anyone wanted to get hold of me, would they be able to get through?”
“Pierce,” she said, on another long-suffering sigh, “I’m in real estate. Have you ever known my phone not to be turned on?”
“No,” he admitted wryly. They’d been in the middle of making love for the first time when she’d received a call from a client wishing to view a house she’d just listed. Apart from being a touch out of breath throughout the conversation, she’d managed to set up the appointment without missing a beat. He hadn’t known whether to be flattered or insulted.
“Then why.” she said now, “don’t you just relax and make us both enjoy ourselves?”
She had the most delicious legs this side of a chorus line. A man would have to be dead not to respond to the lure of them. “Right,” he said, taking her glass and placing it beside his own on the night table. “We’ve wasted enough time on small talk.”
“Thank God you finally got the message,” she breathed, leaning forward to touch his nipple with her tongue. “Take your pants off, Pierce, darling. Although I love a man in uniform, a charcoal lounge suit doesn’t do a whole lot for me at a time like this.”
Her hands slid to the buckle of his belt, adding urgency to her request. It should have been enough to trigger the response she was seeking. Tonight, it wasn’t—a fact she’d discover for herself soon enough.
Cupping her face, he kissed her with great determination. Her lips were lush as ripe strawberries. Her skin smelled of Paris, very chic, very French—as it should, considering the imported hand-milled soap she used and the perfume specially brought in for her by Marshall Fields in Chicago. Her hair, a rich red-gold, glowed like a flame. Unfortunately, none of the aforementioned set him on fire.
Finally, he pulled away, took her hands in his and held her at a distance. “We’re trying too hard, Louise.”
“Why, Pierce,” she murmured, pouting again. “Have I lost my touch?”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, his glance sliding yet again to his watch. “I’ve got too many things on my mind right now.”
“And I’m obviously not one of them.” She drained her glass, clearly annoyed.
He could hardly blame her. They were in her bed at his suggestion, after all. “Let me just call home,” he began. “Once I know—”
“Oh, forget it!” She flounced off the bed and splashed more wine into her glass. “Frankly, you’re not the only one no longer in the mood. Good night, Pierce. Call me when you get your act together.”
There was a light showing at the nanny’s bedroom window when he got home. Treading softly so as not to disturb Tom, who’d been sleeping very