The Doctor's Nanny Page 9

  She focused on Ethan’s dark hair, the play of muscles beneath his shirt, images filling her head. She was drawn to him physically, even though there was a constant monologue in her head warning her away.

  The thing about living with someone was that two weeks was plenty of time to get to know her host a little better. Alone in the house with Simon in bed, she and Ethan had made small talk at first, discussed the weather, the upcoming winter Tennessee was supposed to have. All the inane things strangers discussed when it seemed as though they were both distracted by thoughts of other things.

  Like what he looks like nekkid?

  She inhaled and struggled to focus. What amazed her was how down-to-earth Ethan was. The stories he told about the scrapes and stunts he and his brothers had pulled as kids…They were funny and sweet and ornery and they made her laugh until her sides hurt. She shared stories of her and Jenn, too, focusing on the few good times she remembered rather than the bad. Slim pickings those were.

  When she couldn’t keep her eyes open a moment longer she’d collapse into bed in an exhausted stupor, then Ethan would open up the mound of paperwork he carted home and work even more hours.

  How he managed to stay awake was beyond her. She was brain-dead by 9:00 p.m., quite a change from her night-owl tendencies created by waiting tables until one and two o’clock.

  “Megan? Simon said good-night.”

  Megan blinked to awareness at the sound of Ethan’s voice and shoved herself off the doorjamb. She smiled as she approached the stained wooden bed covered in a brown, blue and cream blanket. The walls of Simon’s room matched the blue in the coverlet and there were beautiful framed pictures of horses on the wall, creating a Western theme without being too little-kid cutesy. “You have good dreams tonight, okay, sugar?”

  That was something she had in common with the boy. Twice now she’d woken up in the wee hours of the morning after a nightmare only to discover Simon huddled and asleep in a corner in her room. She’d carry him back to bed and tuck him in, and in the dark they’d whisper and talk about ice cream and slides and strawberry preserves.

  Megan settled herself on the bed and leaned over Simon’s too-thin form to give him a kiss and hug. Unlike the boy’s standoffish behavior with Ethan, he curled his arms around her neck and squeezed and whispered for her to stay. Her eyes stung.

  Man, maybe the saying was true. Maybe everyone did need a certain number of hugs a day. In the last week she’d grown to count on Simon’s embraces because they made her feel so good.

  “Mangeons-nous de la crème glacé demain?”

  She winked at him. “I’d love to.”

  “Est-ce que tu es encore malade?”

  “No, sweetie.” She saw the worry in his face and hated that she’d put it there with all her coughing and lying about. “I’m feeling much better now. The medicine Dr. Ethan gave me helped. I’m almost good as new.”

  “Peux-tu me raconté un autre histoire?”

  Ah, so that’s what he wanted.

  “Not now, Simon. No more stories tonight, it’s late.” Ethan’s deep voice held a wealth of authority, brooking no argument.

  “Time for sleep,” she added, gentling her tone when Simon gave Ethan a wary glance. “I’ll read to you tomorrow.”

  Simon shot Ethan another look but nodded his understanding and rolled to his side, crossing his arms one over the other in front of him, knees drawn to his chest in a defensive pose.

  Oh, baby boy. How many times had she fallen asleep that way, hoping to defend herself from the bogeyman who always came in the dark of night? Listening to her parents fight and curse each other in hoarse whispers. Listening for the sound of Sean’s footsteps after a night of boozing it up.

  Megan got to her feet to follow Ethan from the room, but on the path to the door she paused, unable to leave Simon so alone. She remembered that feeling, that knot in her stomach making her sick, huddling beneath the blankets afraid to breathe, afraid to draw attention. Just…afraid. She couldn’t leave Simon that way.

  A dark brown bookcase towered in the corner like a soldier on guard, its floor-to-ceiling shelves holding books, older, obviously used kiddie-games she’d learned used to belong to Ethan’s nephew, Matt.

  Megan spied something dark that nearly blended into the woodwork, a stuffed animal that had been tucked into one of the higher shelves where Simon couldn’t reach it. The sight reminded her of the movie they’d watched that afternoon. Woody had been shelved, as well, the worst, most disastrous thing that could happen to a toy.

  The stuffed animal turned out to be a dog. Not a new toy from the looks of it, but it was soft and in good shape with big, floppy ears only slightly worn, a black thread snout and happy little eyes.

  She carried the dog to the bed, holding its ear to her mouth as though talking to it while she petted it and shared secret words. Simon was instantly intrigued.

  “Have you met Simon? He lives here, too. Simon, have you met—What? Oh, you poor thing! You don’t have a name?” She clucked and fussed and used her fingers to make the dog’s head lower as though very sad. “Poor doggie. Well, don’t feel too bad. I know Simon would be happy to meet you and give you a name, wouldn’t you?” she asked softly in French, not repeating the words in English because it was late and they were both tired.

  Simon didn’t move, didn’t respond except to follow the animal and whatever movement she made it do. Megan playfully walked the dog up Simon’s side to his chest then nuzzled the dog’s nose in Simon’s neck.

  The little boy hesitantly reached out and curled his fingers in the animal’s fluffy coat.

  “There, see? Now you both have a friend and no one has to be afraid. Maybe you can give him a name, too, eh, Simon? You’ll let him sleep with you, right? So he won’t be scared and sad sitting up there on the shelf by himself?”

  Simon nodded and when he did, Megan made the dog’s head shift and she made a smooching sound. All the playacting paid off when Simon finally smiled, his big mocha eyes looking so relieved the lump reappeared in her throat.

  “It’ll all be okay, sugar. You’ll see.” She smoothed her fingers over Simon’s cheek and felt the child’s trembling. So scared. So small. Her heart broke. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered again, slowly beginning to sing the only French lullaby she knew. The trembling stopped and Simon’s lashes slowly lowered and stayed shut, but she kept singing, wishing she could take all his fear away.

  When her back ached from leaning over him so long, she straightened. “Sweet dreams, sugar.” She leaned over and bussed a kiss on his forehead, breathing in the scent of soap and boy and fabric softener.

  Head down, heart aching, Megan was almost to the door before she looked up and realized Ethan had returned and stood outside in the hall watching them.

  Acutely aware of his gaze and not quite comfortable because of it, she turned off the light and pulled Simon’s door mostly closed, remembering how as a girl she’d liked having the door open just a tad.

  She flashed Ethan a self-conscious smile, embarrassed. If Sean had seen what she’d done he would have laughed at her, told her how stupid she was for giving in to Simon, for playacting with the stuffed toy, for being soft.

  “If you’re not too tired, I’d like to talk to you before you go to bed. There’s something I want to discuss in regard to Simon.”

  Oh, that sounded ominous.

  It was a long walk down the short hallway, each step bringing with it a memory. Sean’s instructions and lectures on how she should behave, what she’d done wrong. Was whatever Ethan wanted to discuss in the same vein?

  Maybe the dog was an antique and Ethan didn’t want Simon playing with it? She should have asked before handing over the toy. But why put it in Simon’s room if it wasn’t to be played with?

  Her steps slowed even more, her thoughts jumbled. What if Ethan had found a new day-care provider? The time had flown by, but how could she not have realized? He’d had plenty of time to contact a center or hire an indi
vidual babysitter. Had he? So soon?

  That was it. It had to be. He’d found someone and was going to break the news to her. But with only a week’s pay and no contact from Jenn, where did that leave Megan? She wanted to stay here, needed to stay here so Sean wouldn’t find her. Wanted to be Simon’s nanny and see him grow, at least help him adjust. Temporary or not, she needed that little boy as much as he needed her.

  “Let’s go outside on the deck.”

  She nodded once, slowly, her footsteps dragging along with death-row precision. With no contact and certainly no sympathy from Jenn, she was homeless again.

  Chapter 11

  ETHAN WATCHED as Megan swallowed. Her fingers curled into tight little fists and she squared her shoulders, like she had when she’d faced Jenn. What was up with that? She looked like she was facing a firing squad.

  He grabbed a throw off the couch and carried it with him, nodding when she murmured she was going to get a drink and would join him in a moment. He’d built a small fire in the pit earlier in the evening, the mesh grate in place over top of it to keep any small ash from floating up in the breeze and flying into the woods surrounding the house.

  A few minutes passed, but Ethan didn’t mind waiting. It gave him some time to clear his head of the stress and problems of the day, and to go over his plan one more time. Was he making the right choice?

  It was no wonder parents were frazzled all the time. The daily decisions were overwhelming.

  The door opened and closed behind him, and without a word he indicated the seat positioned next to his. Megan left a mug of tea on the arm of his chair as she settled herself. He handed her the throw and caught the small look of surprise that he’d considered her comfort. Her ex-husband must have really been a class-A jerk.

  “This is nice.”

  “Yeah.” He lifted the mug. “Thanks.”

  “It’s supposed to help you relax. I found it in the cupboard.”

  A gift from Alex. His baby sister was always buying them gifts she thought they needed. Dress shoes for Luke because he was prone to wear sneakers with his suits. Manly-smelling essential oils for Garret so that when Darcy gave Garret a massage he didn’t come away smelling like a flower. For him it was tea. Alex had bought the stuff after crashing at his place for Nick’s wedding because their parents’ house was full to the brim with out-of-town relatives, and she’d gotten tired of finding him up roaming around. But right now, a good stiff drink might serve him better, especially since his plan had to include keeping his hands off Megan in order for it to work. “I owe you an apology.”

  Megan turned her face away and looked out at the darkness around them, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes. The light from the fire flickered over her profile, highlighting the soft curves and smooth planes and lips he’d noticed far too frequently lately and ached to taste. Just once. But who was he kidding? Once wouldn’t be enough, not with a woman like her.

  “Why?”

  Ethan smiled at her bluntness. Any other woman would’ve acted surprised and said he didn’t owe her anything, or simply responded with a polite, “Oh?” But not Megan. They were strangers cohabiting, and yet she was blunt and bold and he liked it that she didn’t walk on eggshells around him. So many women played games, said one thing but meant another, like guys were supposed to be able to read their minds. He liked Megan’s plainspoken honesty, though he was well aware of Jenn’s beliefs to the contrary.

  “I know you were hoping to get a chance to talk to Jenn, but with her working all day and me not getting home until later in the evening, you’ve been too exhausted to go see her.” He didn’t think it possible but Megan tensed even more in her seat.

  “That’s okay. No, really, it is. I’ve tried, you know? I apologized and did my best to make up, but it’s up to her if she calls me back. And frankly even if she did call, we’d probably wind up back at square one. We, uh, tend to do that.”

  He mulled that over, deciding to be as blunt. He hadn’t mentioned Jenn’s accusation, but maybe it was time to get it all out in the open before he broached the subject he wanted to talk to her about. “Most girls know not to sleep with their sister’s boyfriend.”

  Her head lowered, her expression sardonic. “Yeah, well, sometimes things happen that you don’t expect.”

  Things like what? Something inside him reared in anger, his suspicions running wild. Sean was the name Megan had cried out in her fever-ridden sleep. The rest of the sounds and noises she’d made had been mostly incoherent, but he’d recognized the name. The fear.

  “Sean, don’t. Please, don’t. No.”

  Last night when she’d cried out in her dreams it had been everything he could do not to go into her room and hold her…comfort her, and not like the way she’d just comforted Simon in his bedroom. “So…Sean was the boyfriend? Your husband?”

  “Ex-husband. Yeah. Look, Ethan, if you have something to say, just say it. Don’t beat around the bush, okay?”

  Ethan scowled at the fire, not letting her push him into saying something he shouldn’t. He wanted to know more about what Sean had done to her and why she’d had to beg, but the topic wasn’t any of his business and a part of him—the one so freshly home from Niger—wasn’t ready to hear another tragic, unthinkable story about a woman being abused.

  Ethan sipped the tea to take his focus off his turbulent thoughts, wincing at the taste. He hadn’t liked it when Alex brewed it for him, either.

  “So,” she said softly when he didn’t speak. “Are you sitting there trying to think of a nice way to ask me to leave?”

  He glanced at her in amusement. “Quite the opposite. Megan, I need to know if you’re sincere about making up with Jenn.”

  She released a rough huff of a laugh. “What’s she said now?”

  “Nothing. I’m asking because families protect their own and as a Tulane, Jenn’s one of us. But if you’re sincere…”

  “What? You’ll help me convince her to give me a chance?”

  “Yeah, I will.”

  The light from the fire shadowed half of her face when she turned toward him, clearly befuddled. “Why?”

  That wasn’t as easy to answer. “Because I know what it’s like to make a wrong move and regret it. I also know how easy it is to fight with a sibling and have things get blown out of proportion because everyone involved is too close to the moment.”

  Ethan turned his attention to the flames, his thoughts barreling back to a time when Nick was so estranged from the family he’d cross the street to avoid them. Being the oldest and a college freshman majoring in pre-med, Ethan had felt superior to his younger, obviously idiotic sibling, and he’d run his mouth way more than he should, ordering Nick around, spouting off. Something he’d always regretted. “As to how I’ll do it…I’ve been thinking. I’ve made a few inquiries into day care and the more I hear and see, the more I appreciate the progress you’ve made with Simon. You said the job in Chicago wasn’t guaranteed. So why not stay here and be Simon’s full-time, live-in nanny?”

  He thought she’d be happy, relieved. At least show a favorable response. Instead she looked at him with blatant suspicion, her features carefully banked. A spark of life shone through, as if she liked the idea, but was leery.

  “What’s the catch?”

  He didn’t like the hesitation in her tone, like he was going to demand sex and she was waiting for the snarky proposal. Sex and babysitting for a roof over her head. Some guys would do it. And maybe, before Niger, he would’ve suggested it, too. But like Megan had told Jenn last week, people change. Including him. He hadn’t exactly been a choirboy, but he wouldn’t take advantage of Megan’s situation. “No catch. I need someone I can trust with my son, and you have reasons for wanting to be here, which means you’ll do your best to keep your job. In the past week, you’ve proven your patience and kindness with Simon, and I figured we could help each other out.”

  Megan rose and walked to the railing where the firelight didn’t reach. A cool breeze blew,
bringing with it a combination of her perfume and something uniquely Megan. Watching her, he noticed the slenderness of her body, the delicate way the firelight played over her form.

  Those long hours at work are going to come in handy.

  Because even though Megan drew his interest sexually, he’d do whatever it took to keep Simon laughing, including ignoring his baser needs and his attraction to his beautiful houseguest.

  In the time she’d been here Megan had changed the balance of things. Now he was able to see what was missing, what Simon responded to and liked.

  Reminded of the scene in Simon’s bedroom, a pained grimace pulled at his lips. “Do you know Simon’s been here five weeks now and I never once thought to give him something to sleep with?”

  She stared out at the night, her shoulders lowering a little at the praise. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

  He set the tea aside and joined her at the railing, leaning against the banister and gazing up at the blanket of darkness highlighted by the moon’s glow. The air was crisp and cool, a perfect fall night—for a confession? “Megan, I’m out of my element and over my head.” Ethan lowered his elbows to the rail and clasped his hands together, staring off at the tree house at the edge of the yard.

  He glanced at Megan and found her staring at him, watchful, listening. And the urge to kiss her was so powerful he had to look away and force himself to continue. “I planned on coming home from Niger with a fresh perspective, not a child. I figured…I hoped to have a family one day but I was going to do it in order. Marriage, honeymoon, kids. I didn’t plan on having this responsibility until I’d reached a point in my life when I thought I was ready. You’ll probably think it’s a guy thing, but when I made that promise to Isa, I thought it wouldn’t be that hard. Truth is, I didn’t have a clue.”

  “Most parents probably feel that way.”

  How typical that everyone thinks they’re the exception to the rule. “I can see that with newborns crying all the time but Simon isn’t a baby. I assumed so long as he was fed, clothed and watched, things would go smoothly.” He lowered his head and stared at his hands. “I never considered the problems with nightmares, day care and schooling.” The words didn’t come any easier, and he was glad the night covered the heat he could feel gathering in his face. “Simon draws pictures about my lousy cooking.”