Passionate Protectors?. Maggie Cox

wiggled her fingers. ‘Do you like it?’

      Matt didn’t remember what he’d said. Whatever it was, it had made no lasting impression on him. What he did remember was that she disturbed him; that he’d been far too aware of her as a woman ever since she’d appeared downstairs wearing his old chambray shirt and sweats.

      When he’d left the clothes on her bed he’d never dreamt that he’d have such a powerful reaction to her wearing them. But the knowledge that she’d obviously not been wearing a bra had aroused the most unsettling images in his head. He’d found himself wondering whether she’d bothered to put on the briefs he’d found in Rosie’s drawer. Or had they been too small for her? The possibility that she might be naked beneath the baggy trousers was all he’d needed to fuel his imagination.

      He reluctantly recalled how he’d felt when Rosie had crept into his room after he’d retired, begging him to ask Sara to stay. ‘Just for a few days, Daddy,’ she’d entreated him appealingly, and, although Matt had told her no, he couldn’t help the treacherous thought that employing Sara could be beneficial to both of them.

      But that wasn’t an option. Rolling onto his stomach, Matt was aware that his morning erection hadn’t subsided. Hard and insistent, it throbbed against his stomach, and he was irritably aware that it was thinking about his house guest that had caused it. It was all too easy to imagine how delightful it would have been to strip the sweat pants from her and sate his burning flesh between her thighs. He could almost feel those long slim legs wrapped around his waist, her firm breasts crushed against his chest. When he brought them both to a shuddering climax she’d sob her gratitude in his ear, whispering how much she’d wanted him, how amazing their lovemaking had been…

      ‘Are you awake, Daddy?’

      The stage whisper sent Matt’s senses reeling. And aroused an immediate feeling of self-disgust. Dammit, what was wrong with him? he asked himself irritably. What on earth was there about Sara Victor that aroused the kind of fantasies he hadn’t had since he was a teenager? It wasn’t as if she was incredibly beautiful. She was good-looking, yeah, but she was no supermodel. Nor did she behave in a way designed to provoke such a reaction. If he was feeling in need of a woman it was his fault, not hers. He needed to get laid, and quick. Before he was tempted to do something they would all regret.

      But right now Rosie took precedence, and, rolling onto his side to face her, he contrived a smile. ‘Hey, sweetheart,’ he said, with what he thought was admirable self-restraint. ‘What are you doing up so early?’

      Rosie was hovering by the door. In cropped Winnie the Pooh pyjamas, her cheeks pink, her hair tousled, she looked adorable, and Matt thought again how lucky he was to have her. ‘Can I come in?’ she asked, glancing over her shoulder half apprehensively. ‘I want to talk to you.’

      Matt compressed his lips. ‘That sounds ominous,’ he remarked drily, guessing the topic. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like what you have to say?’

      ‘Oh, Daddy!’ Rosie took his response as an invitation to join him and came to climb onto the bottom of the bed. Then, realising she’d left the door open, she scrambled down again and went to close it. After she’d resumed her position against the footboard, she declared urgently, ‘It’s about Sara.’

      Matt had assumed as much, but he didn’t let on. Instead, he pushed himself up against his pillows and regarded his daughter enquiringly. ‘Don’t you mean Miss Victor?’

      ‘She said I could call her Sara,’ protested Rosie at once. ‘Last night. When she came to say goodnight. She said that calling her Miss Victor made her feel as if she was back in school again.’ She paused. ‘Did you know she used to be a schoolteacher, Daddy?’

      Matt blew out a breath. So she’d told Rosie she used to teach, had she? He would like to think it had just been a casual admission, but he couldn’t help wondering if she’d said it deliberately. To persuade him that she hadn’t been lying about that, at least. Or to get the child to speak to him on her behalf.

      ‘I believe she said something about it,’ he admitted now. ‘So—is that all you wanted to tell me?’

      ‘Hardly,’ said Rosie indignantly. ‘I just wondered if you knew, that’s all.’

      ‘Well, I do.’ Matt arched his dark brows. ‘What else is new?’

      ‘Daddy!’ Rosie looked red-faced now. ‘Give me a chance! I can’t think of everything all at once.’

      ‘Okay.’ Matt contained his amusement. ‘It must be something serious to get you out of bed before seven o’clock.’

      ‘Oh, Daddy.’ Rosie gazed at him impatiently. ‘You know what I’m going to say.’ She paused. ‘Why can’t you ask Sara to stay?’

      Matt sighed. ‘We talked about this last night, Rosie.’

      ‘But you need a nanny. You said so yourself. Or I mean I do. Why can’t it be Sara?’

      ‘Rosie—’

      ‘Please!’

      ‘Look,’ he said, trying to reason with her. ‘We know nothing about Sara. We don’t even know where she came from.’

      ‘Then ask her,’ said Rosie practically. ‘I’m sure she’d tell you if you did. She told me I was very lucky to live by the seaside. She said that when she was just a little girl she had to live in the town.’

      ‘Did she now?’ Matt absorbed this information, wondering how true it was. He hesitated, loath to pump the child, but compelled to do so anyway, ‘Did she tell you anything else?’

      ‘Just that she never had a dog when she was little,’ said Rosie thoughtfully. ‘I’ll ask her where she came from, if you like.’

      ‘No.’ Matt spoke sharply and the little girl’s jaw quivered in response.

      ‘All right,’ she said, getting down from the bed. ‘I won’t say anything. But I think you’re really—really mean.’

      ‘Ah, Rosie—’ Matt rolled to the side of the bed and grabbed his daughter’s arm before she could get away. ‘Honey, try to understand. You’re very precious. How can I leave you with someone I hardly know?’

      ‘You didn’t know any of the other girls who came for the job,’ replied Rosie tremulously, and Matt groaned.

      ‘Baby, they came from an agency.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘So—’ He pulled her towards the bed and swung his feet to the floor. Then, placing a hand on either side of her small waist, he gave her a gentle shake. ‘Try to understand, sweetheart. I don’t like disappointing you, but—’

      ‘Then don’t,’ pleaded Rosie, seizing the opportunity. ‘Give Sara a chance, please! I promise I’ll be good. I won’t play her up like I used to with Hester.’

      ‘It’s not you I’m worried about,’ muttered Matt, but he was hesitating. His common sense was telling him to stick to his guns, to ignore the emotional demands his daughter was making on him, but his instincts were telling him something else.

      All right, he knew nothing about Sara, but he’d bet his last cent that, whatever she was running away from, she was not a bad person. There was something innately honest about her, an integrity that was at odds with all he knew and suspected about her.

      ‘Daddy…’

      Rosie’s wheedling voice made his decision for him. ‘All right,’ he said, praying he wouldn’t have cause to regret the impulse. ‘We’ll give her a few days’ trial—’

      ‘Hurray!’ Rosie was excited.

      ‘—but I’m making no promises beyond the weekend, right?’

      ‘All right.’ Rosie clasped her hands together. ‘Can I go and ask her? Can I? Can I? I’m sure when