The Doctor's Nanny Read online

  “You missed his game. His first game.”

  Like he didn’t know that? Hadn’t he made the entire trip home swearing at himself for not being there? “I know. The time got away from me, but I’ll make it up to him tomorrow.” Somehow.

  “Ethan, Simon doesn’t even want to play but you signed him up and then you didn’t show up.”

  “Dammit, I know. I’ll apologize to him tomorrow.”

  She took a step back, looking away. In a low voice he barely heard, she said, “It would’ve helped if you’d called to tell him you weren’t going to make it.”

  Ethan looked at the stain on the red shorts lying on the floor, guilt eating him alive. That’s what a good parent would’ve done, wasn’t it? Called, checked on the child. Made sure everything was under control. But he hadn’t called, not once the entire day, even though he knew babysitting wasn’t Megan’s normal job. Megan was used to waiting tables, not handling children. What kind of parent didn’t check on their kid when they knew that was the case?

  One so buried in work he hadn’t eaten the whole day because he couldn’t afford to lose the time. “He had an accident?”

  Megan rubbed her hands up and down her arms as though she was chilled. “He was so disappointed I let him stay outside and play. But when it started getting dark, I think he got scared because you still weren’t home.”

  “There are nights I won’t come home at all because I’ll be on call. My schedule is unpredictable.”

  “Then you need to explain that to Simon. He was very upset because when you left this morning, you promised him you’d be there. Simon needs something he can depend on. Someone he can depend on. As his father, Ethan, you’re it.”

  The weight on his shoulders grew heavier. Ethan took a step and mud crunched under his shoe. It was going to take him all night to clean this up. “Where did the mud come from? Simon’s cleats weren’t that dirty.”

  She pushed the hair from her face and he noted that her hand trembled.

  Jenn would have been at the game tonight to watch Matt play. Had they talked? Had Jenn ignored Megan? Looking at Megan’s strained features, he’d guess the latter.

  Maybe this was too much, too soon. She was still recovering. As a doctor he should have been more compassionate and remembered how long it took to recover, considering how sick she’d been. He’d asked too much of her because of his desperation. Trying to see his patients, trying to take over as Chief, trying to be a parent and not doing any of it well.

  “You wanted him to practice numbers today. It was in that book of instructions. So all day we’ve been counting. When we got home Simon was restless and upset, so we went outside to play and I had him count rocks and cups of dirt, and we made mud pies.”

  Mud pies? Unease filled him. Anger. “I spent a fortune on toys. There are blocks in the bins he could’ve counted.”

  Megan backed up a step. “We counted those earlier today. Look, you had counting all over that stupid schedule,” she added defensively, “so we counted.”

  He followed her, noting that with every step he took, she backed up another. The sight of her scooting away from him so that he had to chase her down to talk frustrated the hell out of him. Where was she going? “That’s fine. I don’t care how he learns the things he needs to learn, but I don’t want Simon playing in mud.”

  She crossed her arms over her front, but retreated again. “Every kid plays in mud. Are you that much of a snob? I took his shoes off.”

  “It’s not about his shoes, Megan.”

  “Then what is it about? Stop taking your bad mood out on me because you’re feeling guilty about tonight. Simon had fun until it started getting dark, then he got scared because you weren’t home.”

  “Maybe that was it, or it could’ve been because he was worried since you hadn’t set the mud to dry and the sun was going down. It takes a while for it to harden.”

  “Harden?” She stared at him, her face a mask of confusion. “We weren’t making anything, we were just playing.”

  “You were playing, Simon was surviving.” He lifted both hands to his head, raking his fingers through his hair, his thoughts on Simon and what she’d said. “Megan, Simon was hungry.”

  “What?”

  Ethan released the air in his lungs in a rush, squeezing and rubbing his neck harder to ease the tension that wouldn’t let up. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

  “Known what?”

  “Simon probably thought you were making dinner. Dirt cookies. It’s what the villagers eat when they don’t have anything else. A little water, some salt and animal fat, and dirt.”

  She shook her head mutely, totally aghast.

  “Some of the schools use it as punishment. They feed them to the kids when they’ve been bad. But mostly it’s used by parents when they can’t stand to hear their hungry children crying.”

  “You mean Simon thought he’d been bad and—Oh, my—Oh.” Her hand flew to her mouth and she rushed by him, gagging.

  Ethan followed her into the bathroom, getting there in time to see Megan fall to her knees and lose the contents of her stomach. Cursing himself because he knew Megan well enough to know she’d react this way, he got a cloth and wet it, pressing it to her neck with one hand while he gathered her hair with the other.

  When it was over she was shaking so badly he sat with his back against the tub and settled her next to him on the cool tile floor. Surprisingly, she stayed put. “Better?”

  She nodded weakly, her face pasty white. Her lashes were wet and spiky, and her mascara had smeared beneath her eyes. No woman should still look beautiful after that.

  “I had n-no idea.”

  He forced his thoughts back to the topic at hand. “Most people don’t, especially not here in the States, unless they lived through the Depression. I guess the recipe is an old one.”

  Megan sniffled, her fingers fussing with the edges of the cloth until she lifted her head and turned to face him. “I fed him dinner. After his bath. We’d had hot dogs at the game and I wasn’t hungry so I assumed he wasn’t.” She closed her eyes and shook her head in obvious upset. “I made soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and he ate every bite. I should’ve realized then but…”

  The words were defensive and full of self-loathing, and Ethan smoothed his hand over her back once more. He didn’t remember the soup and sandwich combo on the schedule, much less hot dogs, but he wasn’t about to argue. The food program was an attempt to get Simon’s weight up to scale but so long as he was eating, one slip every now and again wouldn’t hurt. “That’s good.”

  “How can you say that? If I made Simon think he’d been bad, if that’s why he had the accident—I blamed it on you getting home late and Simon getting scared, but it was because of me.” She squeezed her eyes shut with a moan. “Oh, I can just see your brother’s face when he hears about this.”

  “Which brother? Nick?”

  She nodded, looking completely dejected as she sniffled and turned her head to hide the tears in her eyes. “He challenged me to prove to Jenn that I could do it, but this proves—”

  “Nothing.” He squeezed her close to his side, shifting so that he could lift her face and she had to look at him. “Megan? It proves nothing. It’s okay. Yes, it is,” he insisted when she tried to shake her head no. “Anyone could’ve made the mistake you made. I made mud pies all the time as a kid. Tonight you proved to Simon that he could play in the mud and still have food and he wasn’t being punished. You fed him at the game, right? So maybe he was a little hungry but he wasn’t starving. He’s safe and sound now, right?”

  She nodded, quiet, still trembling and completely horrified by what she’d done, however unintentionally.

  They sat that way for a while, side by side on the uncomfortable floor, Megan’s head on his shoulder. He massaged her arm, her shoulder, not stopping until the light, easy strokes eased the tension from her body and began to create another one altogether in his.

  He st
ared at the wall across from them. Tonight was a mistake, one any babysitter could have made. He couldn’t blame Megan for not understanding the extreme poverty in Niger since he hadn’t understood it until going there himself. It upset him to think Simon might have thought he was being punished, but sitting there with Megan resting against him, he knew the boy would be fine.

  Megan’s reaction to her blunder ended any residual doubts he might have had about her care of Simon, her personality and her heart. Megan wasn’t an expert with kids and neither was he. They’d muddle their way through this together and pray Simon would forgive them the mistakes they made along the way.

  “Dirt cookies?”

  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he realized it was inappropriate. Just like holding her all this time was inappropriate. But she wasn’t pulling away and he wasn’t about to suggest it, not when he’d been interested in Megan from the moment he’d laid eyes on her in Nick’s backyard. He looked down at her, realized her shirt had ridden up just a tad and he spotted the glint of her belly piercing.

  “It’s, um, ahem, all in the ratio. They don’t taste too horrible if there’s enough salt and fat in them.”

  Meg looked up at him. Her face expressed her heartache on Simon’s behalf, on behalf of anyone hungry enough to be that desperate. He tried not to dwell on it, knowing he could only do so much. But the doctor in him raged at the injustice. Over a billion people in the world were overweight, but the exact same amount of people were starving. Amazing how some had all, some had nothing.

  From the looks of things, Megan not only sympathized, she felt the same pain he did at the thought of so many children like Simon going hungry. It was another point on his list of must-haves in the women he dated—compassion.

  He was pleased to note Megan had it in spades.

  With the house quiet and Megan in his arms, he fought the ever-stronger pull of attraction, something elemental and base and strong with desire. He and Megan had forged a bond tonight, one made by their feelings for the child asleep in the other room.

  Don’t go there. She’s great with Simon. Don’t screw up a good thing.

  Messing around with Megan would be the ultimate in stupidity. Jenn wouldn’t like it but that wasn’t his problem. No, the problem was that Megan was right. Simon needed a constant in his life. And Ethan’s schedule being what it was, Megan was the constant. She related to Simon in a way Ethan couldn’t, and a physical relationship with her could potentially ruin everything. What kind of father would he be to mess up Simon’s future in exchange for sex?

  Simon aside, should Megan and Jenn repair their relationship, he could also find himself facing Megan periodically after their encounter ended and that would be insanely awkward.

  But it would be fun.

  He bit back a halfhearted groan, feeling like his old self again for the first time since leaving for Niger. Yeah, it would be fun. For as scrawny as she was, Megan defined sex—except for the part where she’d hurled.

  “Come on,” he said, standing to put some distance between them only to reach a hand down to help her to her feet. Her palm felt small and soft and strong, and it was all he could do not to think of her touching him in other places. “I’m hungry. Let’s go replace the dinner you just lost.”

  Chapter 14

  MEGAN HELD SIMON’S HAND as they headed toward My Kid’s Closet, unable to shake the feeling that something was off. She hadn’t been out of the house much since her arrival, but now that she was strolling along Main Street and her neck tingled with unease, she wished she’d stayed home.

  Before leaving for work this morning, Ethan had asked how she was feeling and if she was up to doing a little shopping. Considering she loved to shop and hadn’t been able to do any for a while due to her financial situation, she’d jumped at the chance to take Simon to town to purchase winter clothes. The days were starting to cool down and the weatherman had stated just this morning that it would be in the fifties one day next week.

  Her neck prickled again, and Megan paused and scanned the area, not seeing anything out of the ordinary and hating the knot in her stomach that formed. Paranoid, her inner voice taunted in a singsong voice. You’ve been on edge so long you’re losing it. This is your one safe place, remember?

  She led Simon to the corner and waited for the cross-signal, the tingling sensation spreading down her spine and the knot growing larger like a balloon about to burst. Was she being watched?

  You’re a new face in a small town. Of course you’re being watched. Every gossip on the street is probably on their phone right now, trying to figure out who you are and why you’re with Ethan Tulane’s son. Get used to it.

  It hadn’t taken long to figure out the Tulane name carried a lot of weight. Sitting on the sidelines of the soccer game she’d had several people come introduce themselves to her just because she’d had Simon in tow and they’d heard of his adoption.

  The light changed and she tugged Simon across to the other side, the breeze carrying a bit of coolness with it. Did Simon have a winter coat? He’d need one soon. Maybe a snowsuit, too, since Ethan said every now and again they got snow in the mountains. She’d have to ask Ethan, or else just add it to the bill today and return it if her employer protested the expense.

  You weren’t thinking of him as an employer last night.

  Heat surged up her neck and into her face at the memory of Ethan holding her. It had felt so good to be comforted after that horrible mistake. Ethan had had every right to be furious with her, reason enough to fire her. Instead of yelling at her and kicking her out the door, he’d held her. Yet another way Ethan proved he wasn’t like Sean.

  Simon walked beside her, wide-eyed as he took in the buildings, the flags flapping in the breeze and the mix of leftover Halloween decorations competing with Christmas sale signs. Given Simon’s shyness, Ethan had skipped the Halloween trick-or-treat ritual last weekend and opted to spend a quiet night at home.

  A bell jingled as they stepped over the threshold of the shop. A gigantic stuffed giraffe towered over them, colorful clothes filled the space and a whole display of stuffed animals lined half of one wall, but the sight of the older woman wearing a name tag heading their way was enough to make Megan clutch Simon’s hand a wee bit tighter.

  “You must be Megan Rose. I’m Mrs. Stouts. And this must be little Simon. Hello, Simon,” she said, enunciating each syllable like an old record album played on slow speed.

  The woman bent, placing her hands on her knees, and bobbed up and down several times. The sight made Megan wonder if the woman was about to break into a dance routine or a game of Simon Says.

  “Your, um, father,” she said, drawing out the word until it became fah-thur, “asked me to help you find some nice clothes.” She addressed Megan next, straightening. “After all, little Simon needs to be dressed appropriately, what with Dr. Tulane being who he is.”

  Who he is? If she’d learned anything about Ethan since staying with him, it was that he didn’t care what he wore so long as it was clean and comfortable. Ethan was the last one to throw around the fact he sliced people open on a regular basis.

  The conversation they’d had when she’d first arrived came back to her, the one about how Ethan just wanted to do his job, be who he was, and not have the hassle of living up to some kind of expectation. So because Ethan was a doctor, he was expected to dress Simon a certain way, was that it?

  Get off your high horse. You know what she means.

  That she did. When she’d done the pageant circuit, it was expected that the participants have certain brands of clothing, a certain style. This was no different. “We, um, don’t have a lot of time. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll find what we need.”

  “Oh, nonsense, dear. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ve taken the liberty of gathering some things together for Simon already. Just follow me.”

  I can’t wait. Megan’s eye twitched when she spotted a glittery sea of pageant gowns,
prom gowns and winter dance numbers up ahead. Those were followed by leotards, dance, tap and ballet shoes.

  The portion of stock dedicated to boys was in the back of the store and after meandering around the racks rather than taking the direct path, they finally made it.

  “Here we are. We have just the things for you, little man.”

  The curtained dressing room was spacious, with three mirrors and a bench. Already hanging on hooks were half a dozen jeans and shirts, flannel pajamas, two black suits, a tuxedo, a brown suit and at least six dress shirts. Surely Mrs. Stouts didn’t expect Simon to try on all of that?

  Simon stared up at Megan, his expression pleading for them to turn and bolt. So with ya, kid.

  Megan let go of his hand and knelt down beside him, her voice low as she told him in French, “The sooner we do this, the sooner we leave. Once we’re finished we’ll go home and do something very special, okay?”

  “Oh! You speak French! Oh, my word, what a find Dr. Tulane has in you! Why, wait until I tell my friend Doris. She’s been looking for someone to tutor her daughter in French. There’s this song she wants to sing in Beauty’s Winterfest pageant and—”

  “I’m not a tutor.” She gave Simon a reassuring wink and straightened. “I’m just visiting my family and helping out with Simon.”

  “Oh, but—Rose,” the woman said abruptly, her gaze narrowing like a bargain shopper in sight of sales. “Wasn’t that the name of the woman Dr. Tulane’s brother married? Nick? He dated my daughter a time or two. She was runner-up in the Miss Tennessee Pageant.”

  “How nice.” They were never going to get out of here at this rate.

  “Yes, it was. There’s her picture, there on the wall.” She pointed to a framed photo of a woman with big hair and enough eye makeup to make a clown jealous. Megan so didn’t miss those days.

  “Oh, now who was that girl he married? Julie or Jenna—Jennifer! That’s it, Jennifer Rose, the teacher. I remember seeing it in the paper.” The woman sniffed. “She bought her gown in Nashville. My Amanda was working in the shop with me then. Mandy’s so pretty, I think she intimidates the customers.”