Erik closed the door, shutting out the ghosts of his past. As he walked down the hall, he knew he would have to face them again. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Not in the least.
CHAPTER SIX
“Michelle, you know what?”
“What, Precious?” Michelle held her gaze in the dresser mirror as she brushed the little girl’s hair.
“I want you to live with us forever.”
“Forever is a long time, Precious, but I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”
Five years to be exact
. She put down the brush and led Precious to the pink canopy bed. She pulled back the ruffled comforter and helped her in.
The room was furnished with pink and white lacquered furniture and light pink wallpaper with an Arabian motif of princesses reclining on divans. Pictures of Precious and her parents were everywhere. They looked happy, Michelle thought, then wondered for the millionth time, what was it that Erik and his wife were arguing about the night she was killed.
Could it be that she was having an affair? Michelle found it hard to believe that a woman married to such a fine specimen of a man would cheat on him. He was everything a woman wanted in a husband. If she were married to him, she wouldn’t even notice other men existed.
But you aren’t married to him,
a tiny voice whispered.
You’re his daughter’s nanny, not a replacement for his wife.
With that sober thought, she tucked Bradie under Precious’ arms and pulled the covers up around them. “Prayers,” she said, kneeling on the lambskin rug beside the bed.
Precious said her ‘God Blesses’ for all the people in her small world, then whispered something under her breath.
Michelle kissed each of her cheeks. “Your daddy will be in to read you a story.”
“I asked God to let you live with us forever.”
So that was the whispered request. Pain nipped Michelle’s heart as she left the room. She’d become very attached to the child in a very short time, and she would love nothing more than to live with her forever, but the sensible woman in her knew that was not possible. She was the nanny, hired to take care of Precious, not fill the role of her mommy
.
After five years, she would have to leave, whether she wanted to or not.
In the meantime, everyone was benefiting from the situation. Precious had a nanny; she had a job and a place to live; and Erik, well, he had adult conversation during dinner, someone with whom to share his daily achievements.
She was sure there was nothing special about it. He probably had a similar relationship with Holly when she was the nanny. It was foolish to entertain the idea that she could ever be more than a live-in babysitter.
Michelle found Erik in the study leafing through a medical journal. “Precious is ready for you,” she said, her heart fluttering at the sight of him reclined comfortably on the sofa.
He looked up and his eyes scanned down her body. “You’re wet.”
Michelle glanced down at the shirt she wore over a pair of old jeans. Sure enough, the front was damp from giving Precious a bath. It wasn’t soaked, but it might as well have been, from the way it clung to her body.
She should have changed, she realized—too late—as she felt her nipples harden under his dark gaze. She’d taken off her bra because her breasts became excruciatingly tender when she was ovulating. She was ovulating tonight, and from the heat in her belly, she bet her optimistic eggs were on the lookout for a wandering sperm to make some magic happen.
Instinctively, her arms folded across her bosom. The pep talk she’d given herself just a minute ago meant nothing. Her traitorous body was crying out for this man like it had never cried for any other. She hadn’t even felt this kind of excitement the night she gave her virginity to Ryan.
He was the only man she’d ever been with, but from the experiences, she’d long ago determined that sex was highly overrated. When Ryan brought up the subject of marriage, Michelle had fled from that relationship. No way was she going to suffer through a lifetime of boring sex and faked orgasms. She’d rather stay single.
Well, that was until she met this man who made her body throb from just thinking about him. “I’ll go change my shirt.” She would have to change her panties, too. They were soaked.
She noticed the muscles in Erik’s jaws tighten as he got up from the sofa. He came and stood next to her, looking down with open desire in his gold-flecked eyes. She heard the long deep intake of air into his lungs before he strolled out of the room. He hadn’t touched her, but he’d left his mark on her, nonetheless.
Michelle’s body quivered as she watched Erik walk away from her. She could smell the desire in him. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him, but in his book, it was unethical to have a sexual liaison with his daughter’s nanny.
Besides, the man was still in love with his dead wife. She wasn’t competing with that.
Michelle was sitting on a lounge chair on the patio off the kitchen, gazing up at a starless sky and listening to crickets chirping in the woods behind the house, when Erik came out and eased into a chair next to her. He crossed one leg over the other, and leaned his head back.
There was no moon to light the night and the lights in the kitchen were turned down low. A slight breeze cooled the night air as they sat quietly. She was happy he couldn’t see her because she hadn’t changed her shirt. The coolness of the cloth against her skin reminded her of the charged, two-sentence conversation the wet shirt had sparked.
His breathing filled the air around her, causing tension to build. Michelle knew she should say something, anything to break the silence, yet she waited for him to start. She’d come out here to escape a run-in with him and collect her thoughts before going upstairs to work on her book.
She supposed he had sought her out because he had something to say. The only time they really talked was at the dinner table, or when they had to discuss Precious’ schedule, including her activities, which had been cut to two—ballet and swimming.
Usually, after tucking Precious into bed, he’d escape to his study and she would open up her laptop. Writing had become a pleasurable escape for her to keep her mind off him. She was sure it was because she was writing about the kids at the youth center, kids she loved and could relate to. She missed them, and turning their experiences into a book made her feel closer to them, like Jo in
Little Women
, writing about her and her sisters’ lives.
All the proceeds from her book, when and if she sold it, would go to the center. Since she’d left Manchester, she called the center every day, just to check in with Rose, one of the women who helped out. She wanted to make sure all the kids were okay, that none of them needed anything. She wanted so badly to go see them, but she couldn’t leave Precious alone and she didn’t dare take her back to ‘that kind of neighborhood’ again.
“What was it like growing up without a mother?”
His voice, and the surprising question, startled Michelle. She’d anticipated that when he finally said something, it would be about his daughter or the twins he delivered today. She didn’t expect it would be personal. He hadn’t asked her anything personal since her first morning on the job.
She wriggled around on the lounge chair and cleared her throat, giving herself time to think about her reply. At least he didn’t ask about life with her father. He’d asked about life without her mother.
That
she could be truthful about. “Empty, I guess, and a bit lonely and sad.”
“What did you miss most? I’m asking so I’ll know how to make up for Precious’ loss. I hope you don’t mind sharing that part of your life with me.”
Michelle sighed deeply. “Well, she died when I was born, so I can’t say I missed her, since I never had her. I think what I missed was the idea of having a mother. Knowing her touch, her voice, her smell, her laugh.” Her voice cracked, and she sniffled, remembering the wonderful things Robert had told her about their mother. He’d tried to describe her laugh, her touch, her voice to her, and at those moments, Michelle would close her eyes and just imagine. “I never had those things,” she continued, “but my brother tried to bring her to life for me by telling me about her. So, if I had suddenly lost my mother, like Precious lost hers, those are the things I would miss most.”
“But you had your father. He must have compensated in some big way.”
Michelle wanted to laugh even though her heart was heavy. Yeah, her father did compensate, but not in the way Erik thought. She turned to his huge shadow, silhouetted against the darkness. “My father wasn’t there for me, Erik. He was too busy feeling sorry for himself after my mother died. He forgot about the two little children who needed him.”
“That’s why you got so angry with me for neglecting Precious.”
“I know how she feels,” Michelle stated softly. “The agony of losing one parent is bad enough, but when you have one who just ignores you—now, that’s a killer. Soon you stop trusting or believing in anybody and you just lock yourself away inside you where it’s safe.”
“Is that what happened to you, Michelle? You stopped trusting?” His voice was gentle, probing.
Michelle uttered a dry laugh and wrapped her arms around her stomach. She wished she’d stopped trusting, believing. If she had, she would not be sitting on Erik LaCrosse’s patio. She would be in Manchester, living the life she’d planned for herself, not the one someone else’s destructive behavior had forced on her, but then again, she would not have met Erik.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m the anomaly, Erik. I’m always looking for the good in folks, hoping for the best, but I keep getting hurt. That’s why I volunteer at the youth center. I know how those kids feel.”
He leaned forward. Closer. “Who hurt you, Michelle?” His voice was low, husky.
Stirred by the tenderness in his voice, Michelle opened her mouth to lay her heart at his feet, but the fragile moment was broken by the sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen.
He swore softly as he got up to answer it. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
Michelle’s heart hammered as she watched him walk into the kitchen and turn on the light. He left the sliders open, so she heard him say, “Hello,” then chuckle at the response on the other line. But when he said, “Of course not, Bridget. I’m never too busy for you,” a wave of jealousy ripped through Michelle.
Who the heck was Bridget
? He had asked her if there was a man in her life—a legitimate question since the former nanny had married and left his daughter high and dry. It wasn’t her place to question him about any relationship with a woman. Even though he came home for dinner every evening, and locked himself away in his study every night, she’d suspected he might have someone to turn to in his hour of masculine need. She’d assumed he kept them away from the house so as not to confuse his daughter who still wasn’t over the death of her mother.
Men needed sex to survive. She’d heard that constantly from the few she’d dated over the years. She’d never felt compelled to give them any, so they’d quietly and solemnly faded away. She’d tried so hard not to think of Erik with another woman, especially since she knew what it was like to be in his arms, to kiss him, feel his hot hard body pressed up against hers. As long as she didn’t see him with a woman, or hear him talk of one, she’d told herself that he didn’t have one. There was no denying it anymore.
He had Bridget
.
Michelle got to her feet and studied the grin on his face as he leaned against the sink with the receiver clipped to his ear. She wished there was another way into the house without going past him, but since the other entrances were locked, she took a deep breath, walked briskly through the sliding doors, and tried to make a dash from the kitchen.
“Hold on a minute, Bridge,” he said as she reached the island. “Michelle.”
Michelle grabbed the cool marble and turned her head. His hand was over the mouthpiece. She stared at him, forcing a stiff smile. The last thing she wanted was for him to know she was jealous of some other female. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed, Erik,” she said calmly.
“I said I wouldn’t be long.” He came over to her.
“You shouldn’t keep Bridget waiting.”
His eyebrows puckered. “She’s just a friend. A colleague. We work together.”
Now why did he think he had to explain himself? Erik wondered, as he gazed into Michelle’s tantalizing black eyes. He was getting to know her a minute ago. He’d heard the ache hanging on the edge of her voice when she’d talked about her mother. He’d welcomed the sweet scent of
Moonlight
rising from her body.
As he’d sat quietly with her in the dark, he’d been thinking about that first night and the kiss they’d shared, and her hard nipples poking from beneath her wet T-shirt when she’d come down to get him earlier. He’d fought the urge to take her into his arms, kiss her again and again, feel her melt into him, tremble at his touch, moan with want for him.
After tucking Precious in, he’d gone back to his study, hoping to squelch his desires in the journal he’d been reading earlier. But after reading the same paragraph several times and having no idea what it said, he’d given up. He’d gone to the kitchen for a glass of water when he spotted her on the patio through the sliders. She looked lost in her own world, just sitting there staring into the dark night. His head had told him he should just leave her be and not play with fire. But his heart wanted to be close to her.
He’d been on the very verge of insanity when he’d joined her. That’s why he’d brought up the subject of her mother. He needed something far removed from the carnal need rampaging inside him. And now, here he was explaining a simple phone call.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Erik. I’m just the babysitter. She walked stoically into the dining room.
Erik stared at her until she disappeared from sight. He didn’t even know what the heck was going on in his house.