The Danforths: Toby, Lea and Adam. Anne Marie Winston
involve getting on a plane, she silently amended. Her fear of flying had been the bane of a childhood dependent upon traveling long distances to perform across the country. Whenever possible, Heather made alternate arrangements involving buses or trains.
The tension in Toby’s face was replaced by a smile as wide as the boundaries of his ranch. It was the kind of smile that made Heather want to attribute the accompanying flutters in her stomach to nothing more than first-day-on-the-job jitters. Certainly not to a sharp sense of feminine awareness making her ache deep inside.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Toby said. “I’d suggest you pack light clothes for the trip. My sister says the weather in Savannah is unseasonably warm for this time of year. Did I mention we’ll be flying out this Monday?”
Heather’s mouth fell open in surprise as Dylan clapped his hands in delight.
Two
There was something so regal in the way the new nanny carried herself, it made Toby feel as if he were working for her instead of the other way around. Of course, it went without saying that much in the way of a superior attitude was forgivable as long as she was kind to Dylan. Youth and inexperience, eyes as gray and unpredictable as gathering storm clouds, a luscious figure and even a pair of tempting lips drawn into a thin, disapproving line when she leaped to the conclusion that he was teasing Dylan with that blasted cookie were all imminently forgivable.
And lamentably unforgettable.
Dylan never took to strangers like he had to Heather. He had always been reticent—often even around his own mother. The fact that Heather happened to be the catalyst for Dylan to utter his very first words since Sheila left was more than enough reason for Toby to set aside any reservations he might have about her. Since dear old Mrs. Cremins recently suffered a heart attack, he was desperate to replace her with someone suitable—someone willing to live in what Sheila had dubbed one of the most desolate spots in the entire world. Based on his ex-wife’s decision to abandon country life and her family altogether, Toby seriously doubted whether he could keep such a beautiful, young woman like Heather around for long. He hoped Dylan didn’t get too attached to her before she, like his mother, found her wings and left them to pursue a more exciting life.
Personally, Toby loved the isolation and stark beauty of the Double D Ranch. It was, in fact, the culmination of a lifelong dream to break away from his politically connected and sometimes dysfunctional family to stake out a life for himself and his son. It was a dream based on the American ideal of pride in owning something built with one’s own hands from the ground up. The Danforths had roots so deep in the soil of the Old South that Toby’s decision to relocate to Wyoming had initially been perceived by some of his relatives as an affront to the glorious memory of the Confederacy itself. Indeed, Toby’s choice to make something of himself in a way completely separate from his family’s influence was the equivalent of the Emancipation Proclamation that set an entire nation free.
Nestled against the base of the magnificent Snowy Range, the Double D was Toby’s idea of heaven on earth. It was his belief that a man could think clearly beneath clear, cloudless Wyoming skies that went on forever. Such country had a way of putting technology and politics in their proper place. They challenged a person to rely on his wits and the goodwill of neighbors who still put their stock in a hard day’s work rather than a volatile marketplace run by crooks and thieves—who somehow managed to protect their mansions while their small, unsavvy stockholders were forced to declare bankruptcy.
It was hard to explain why Toby had felt so strangled by the gracious living of Southern gentry. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family, but rather that he’d somehow felt like a changeling growing up in his own home. Ever since he’d fallen in love with his first cowboy movie as a little boy, Toby knew what kind of life he was cut out for. And it wasn’t one that involved luxurious golf courses and hoitytoity social events requiring black ties invented to choke the life out of a man so some Southern belle could drag him around by the end of it wherever she had a mind to go.
As eager as Toby had been to leave Savannah four years ago, he nevertheless felt it important to keep his family ties strong—if only for Dylan’s sake. Devoted to his own father, Toby would do anything that Harold Danforth asked of him—including returning home to show support for an uncle of whom he’d never been overly fond and enduring the kind of stuffy formal affair that he personally deplored. According to his father, Abraham Danforth was on the verge of making a political bid for the Senate. At Uncle Abe’s behest, Toby’s father had called his own children together for a Fourth of July extravaganza at Crofthaven, the family mansion overlooking Savannah’s harbor. The mansion had been in the Danforth family for over a century, and though it held no special, warm memories for Toby or any of his cousins as far as he knew, it was the perfect spot for an impromptu family reunion. Not to mention a fabulous backdrop to launch the political campaign of a man, who in Toby’s opinion was more devoted to promoting himself than raising his own family.
Toby felt no jealousy for the wealthier side of the family. When his wife died years earlier, Abraham Danforth had promptly rid himself of his children by sending them off to exclusive boarding schools. Busy making a name for himself, Abe farmed them out over school breaks as well. Consequently, Toby’s cousins spent many of their holidays and summers at his own childhood home making happy memories, and eventually coming to regard Harold as a surrogate father in place of the one who had so little time for them.
Toby didn’t mind sharing his father with the cousins who were like brothers and sisters to him. Kind and loving, Harold Danforth was the kind of man that little boys wanted to grow up to be like and little girls wanted to marry. It was just one of the reasons that Toby was so anxious to have his son get to know his grandfather better. He hoped exposing Dylan to his extended family would encourage the boy to express himself more openly.
Heaven knows, whenever the Danforths got together there was plenty of talking and laughing and debating everything from the latest in politics to varying points of view in recalling their youthful antics. Toby knew his family would do everything in their power to make Dylan feel at home and bring him out of his shell. Bringing Heather along would give the child an anchor—and unfortunately free Toby up for any number of his sister’s ill-fated matchmaking attempts….
Despite his repeated protests that he had little interest in dating again, let alone getting remarried, there was no doubt in his mind that Imogene would have every available belle lined up for his perusal when he arrived in Savannah. As much as Toby appreciated the fact that she had his happiness in mind, he wished his family would accept his decision to raise his son as he saw fit—as a determined single father who didn’t need the added pressure of belonging to one of the most influential families in Georgia.
As much as he hated to spring this trip on Heather so soon, Toby hoped the extravagant salary he was paying would help ease any misgivings she might have about accompanying him. Her dismayed reaction to his invitation made him wonder if she had an aversion to flying—or just to spending time with him. Using Sheila as a gauge, it would appear he had that effect upon women in general.
Heather Burroughs certainly wasn’t the grandmotherly type with whom he had been hoping to replace Mrs. Cremins. Nor the mousy sort of shy musician that made her presence easy to overlook. A man could mentally forswear the opposite sex all he wanted, but unless his body cooperated, there was little chance he could convince himself, let alone someone as tenacious as his sister Genie.
Something jumped in his belly at the mere memory of Heather whirling into his living room like a tiny tornado. In a pair of tennis shoes and worn jeans, with her blond hair falling loosely about her shoulders, she’d looked more like a popular rockand- roll diva intent on smashing a guitar over his head than the classical pianist he’d been led to believe was refined and aloof by nature. The fire he’d seen in those smoky-gray eyes left him wondering if the right man might be able to spark an even hotter blaze behind that wall of ice.
Toby didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking. This sparsely populated region of the West was not known for its liberal attitude, and Toby didn’t like the idea of compromising this pretty young woman by placing her in a situation that might cause loose tongues to wag. Living under