The Nanny's Plan. Donna Clayton

felt put on the spot. Her father had warned her that Dr. Pierce Kincaid was a highly intelligent man…and Amy usually avoided highly intelligent men. For very good reason. However, neither her dad nor Cynthia Winthrop had warned Amy that the doctor could be a grumpy Gus when he wanted to be.

      During her two-day drive from Kansas, she’d pondered a hundred possible situations that might leave her looking like an idiot in front of the doctor, as well as means to avoid them. Walking into the Delaware Bay, fully clothed, had not been a scenario she’d anticipated.

      “How could I see it?” she asked when the idea came to her like a bolt from the blue. “It was under water until you picked it up.”

      The man’s oh-so-perfect mouth went flat. He murmured, “I guess that’s true enough.”

      She added, “Besides that, someone had to rescue the oar.”

      He nodded, his features relaxing as he looked at her.

      “They shouldn’t have been out here alone.” She hadn’t meant to criticize, but the opinion seemed to roll off her tongue by its own volition.

      Contrition darkened his green gaze. “You’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t have lost track of time like that.” After a moment, he sighed and then focused his attention on the twins.

      “What were the two of you thinking?”

      “The boat wasn’t on the list of rules you gave us,” one child quickly replied, blatant defensiveness in his tone. “So we thought it would be okay.”

      One of the man’s dark eyebrows arched dubiously.

      “Obviously your powers of deduction haven’t fully matured.”

      The second twin said, “It was Benjamin’s idea.”

      “Was not!”

      “Was too!”

      “Boys.”

      Although his voice hadn’t risen at all, the children went quiet. Amy chuckled.

      Horrified that all eyes were on her, she reached up and pressed her fingers to her mouth. It was nerves. No doubt about it. This situation had her as tense as a lop-eared rabbit in a rocking-chair factory.

      “I’m sorry,” she said. Unwilling to reveal her state of anxiety, she only shrugged. “The twins sure are cute when they squabble.”

      One corner of his mouth turned up. “They’re cuter when they’re not getting into trouble.”

      Automatically Amy’s gaze drifted to the twins. The red, bleary eyes of one, the defiant chin thrust of the other. A strange thing happened to her insides. They turned all warm and mushy.

      “You said you were heading east,” she said. “Out into the Atlantic. You were going after your mom and dad, weren’t you? You were heading for Africa.”

      The child who had been crying blinked, his chin trembling at the mention of his parents, and Amy thought her heart would dissolve right there in her chest.

      She went to him, bent down and tilted her head to one side. His cheek was downy soft against her fingertips. “Are you Jeremiah? Or Benjamin?”

      “Jeremiah.” The child could barely speak around the emotion lumping in his throat.

      “Well, Jeremiah, I know how you’re feeling. I miss my parents, too.”

      He sniffed. “Did your mom and dad go to Africa?”

      Her mouth curled. “No. My dad is back in Kansas.” She paused, not quite knowing how to explain about her mother. “My mom went far, far away.”

      “Farther than Africa?” Benjamin’s tone was awed.

      “Farther than Africa.” She gave both boys a smile. “But you know what I do when I’m missing them something fierce?”

      The children waited, subdued anticipation holding them still.

      “I keep busy doing fun things,” she told him. Then she grinned. “And that’s just what we’re going to do this summer. You and me. Lots of fun things.”

      “Speaking of fun things,” the boys’ uncle interjected, “who’s ready for dinner?”

      She straightened and saw that he’d picked up the suitcase she’d left on the grass. He’d also gathered up her shoes. Having him carry her shoes felt too…personal to Amy. She hurried to take them from him. Their gazes collided and she murmured her appreciation. For a moment it seemed as if the cool breeze died and the sun grew hotter. Amy found it difficult to swallow.

      But the stillness was broken when Jeremiah got upset all over again. He wailed, “But I don’t like ruffled sprouts.”

      Benjamin’s nose wrinkled. “They smell bad.”

      “They’re Brussels sprouts.” Pierce corrected his nephew with a laugh. “And they’re good for you. Packed full of vitamins. If you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them. All I ask is that you try them.”

      The boys trudged ahead of them toward the house, grumbling a warning that they intended to try only one, and that their uncle would know they didn’t like it by all the gagging they would surely make.

      Beside her, Pierce sighed. “I should have set an alarm clock or something. I shouldn’t have left them alone for so long.”

      “You’ve got your work,” Amy said. “When Mrs. Winthrop flew out to meet with me last week, she stressed that you had just been offered some kind of special contract. That you were on a pressing deadline. It’s understandable that—”

      “But the boys could have been hurt.”

      Guilt seemed to pulse from him.

      “I’m sorry there was a time lag between the boys’ parents’ departure,” Amy felt compelled to say, “and my arriving. But it really couldn’t be helped.” She lifted one shoulder. “I’m unable to fly.”

      “Yes. Cynthia told me that you’d been grounded.”

      Amy pointed to the side of her head. “It’s an inner ear thing. I’m not in any pain. Can’t even tell there’s anything wrong. But the company physician refused to risk a perforated eardrum that might be caused by in-flight pressure changes.”

      “I see.”

      Silence fell like a lead balloon. Her bare feet made her feel oddly vulnerable, but she didn’t want to ruin her shoes by putting them on when salt water was still dripping down her legs from the hem of her dress. She wondered if he noticed the faint but tangy odor of the bay emanating from her. She really was a mess.

      “Do you have experience with children?”

      “What?” The question startled her. “No, I don’t. But your sister thought I’d do okay with the boys.”

      “This isn’t an interview,” he quickly assured her. “I’m not questioning your skills.”

      Maybe not, but he was probing for information that would cause him to form opinions about her. It was her habit to avoid talking about herself as much as possible. There were certain facts about herself she’d rather no one discovered.

      “It’s just that you were so good with them,” he continued. “With Jeremiah especially. He’s been pretty miserable since Cynthia and John left.”

      The slate stones of the patio were cool and smooth under the damp soles of her feet.

      “Well, it’s easy to imagine how he’s feeling.” She moistened her lips, shifted her shoes to her other hand. “Anyone who’s hurting deserves a little compassion.”

      “It eases my mind to know that you would reach out to him like you did.”

      That odd stillness descended on them again, that strange heating up of the temperature, although