The Rancher, the Baby & the Nanny. Sara Orwig

at him unwaveringly.

      “Sit down and we’ll talk,” he said.

      She sat down, crossing her ankles and looking as prim as before. She also looked as if she would run if he said boo, yet she had stood up to him with her question about his experience as a daddy. She’d nailed him on that one, all right. The first day it had taken him hours to learn to get a diaper on Megan the right way.

      “The job means living out here on the ranch. It means living in this house with Megan and me,” he reminded her.

      She nodded. “Is there any reason that should worry me?”

      “For one thing, there’s the isolation.”

      “I don’t mind that at all.”

      “For someone young, that’s unusual. These are your prime years for finding a husband. Most women don’t like isolation.”

      She smiled at him, her dimple showing and that twinkle returning to her eyes. “Getting a husband is not on my list of goals. I’ll have your niece and I won’t mind the isolation at all.”

      “You don’t want to marry?” he asked.

      “If it works out someday, but if it doesn’t, that’s fine, too. I have a busy life.”

      He didn’t believe her for a minute, but he moved on to another subject. “I have a woman who is both cook and a housekeeper, and she lives on the ranch, so she’ll be close at hand, but if you’re nanny, you’ll live here in the house.”

      She nodded as if it meant nothing to her.

      “Since this will be your home during the week, I need to know if there’s a boyfriend.”

      “No, there’s no boyfriend. I’ve been working to put myself through school and I’m busy and I don’t date.”

      “Being busy doesn’t have a whole lot to do with dating.”

      She shrugged and he saw the dimple again. “All right. I’ve never found anyone who really interested me. I don’t date.”

      “When did you graduate from high school?” he asked in a polite and legal way to discover her age.

      She smiled. “I’m twenty-five. I graduated seven years ago.”

      Megan stirred in his arms, waking and beginning to cry.

      “How’s my girl?” Wyatt asked, patting her back as he stood. “Would you excuse me for a minute while I change her and get her bottle?”

      “Certainly.”

      He left and Grace watched him go, a mixture of feelings seething inside her. Her best friend from college, Virginia Udall, had warned her at length about Wyatt, telling her of his dark past. How in high school he’d had to quit school and leave town in disgrace. She heard tales of his wildness, crazy pranks he’d done when he was growing up, the girls he’d seduced, drunken brawls in local bars. Virginia had an older sister who’d gone to high school with Wyatt. Grace had seen her high-school yearbook and Wyatt’s freshman picture. She remembered staring at a picture of a boy who, in spite of wild hair that fell over his shoulders, was still the best-looking boy in the entire high school.

      Of all the things she’d heard about Wyatt, the one that she could agree with completely was that he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. When he’d opened the door, she’d been frozen for a minute, looking at thickly lashed, coffee-colored bedroom eyes, prominent cheekbones that gave him a slightly rugged look, a straight nose, a sensual mouth and firm jawline. The long locks were gone, but his black hair was still wavy and unruly, curling onto his forehead. The man was gorgeous. Small wonder he had a reputation with the ladies.

      If was difficult to relate the stories she’d heard with the caring uncle he seemed to be. She looked at the animal heads looming over her, the rifle above the mantel, the heavy leather furniture and the bear rugs. The room was masculine, lacking any feminine touch, yet she’d been told that part of the time, his brother and his wife had lived here. It was difficult to imagine a baby crawling over the bear rugs, and she wondered if the room had been that way since Wyatt’s infancy. It was even more difficult to imagine Wyatt as an infant.

      Was she walking into a wolf’s den, as her friend had warned her? If she took this job, she would have to live here, alone with Wyatt Sawyer and a baby. Good looks couldn’t mask the rogue he had been. For a moment, as she had approached the house, she’d been tempted to turn around and drive back to town. Then she’d considered the rumor in Stallion Pass that Wyatt couldn’t find a nanny and was offering a huge salary. She had squared her shoulders and tried to ignore her qualms.

      Wyatt strode back into the room, the baby tucked into the crook of his arm as he held a bottle for her. He sat in the rocker again, adjusting the baby and her bottle. Her tiny fingers moved over the bottle as she sucked. As he watched his niece, the loving expression on his face made Grace question the stories she had heard. The love he felt for the baby was obvious.

      “Why don’t you tell me a little about the job?” she suggested.

      He raised his head and looked at her as if he’d forgotten her presence. Grace wondered if he still planned to send her packing. She knew he’d intended to earlier.

      “You’d live here in this house and take care of Megan. I’d be around at night, but gone most of the day. The person I hire will be caring for my niece daily, so it’s important that I have someone I can trust, someone who can give her tender, loving care and is competent with a baby.”

      “I think I can do that.”

      “It’ll be an isolated life in a time when you might rather be with friends or out on a date,” he said warningly.

      She smiled at him. “Surely some time off comes with the job.”

      “Yes, weekends. I’ll take care of Megan then. Frankly, Miss Talmadge, you’re young. I had someone who is more mature in mind, perhaps a grandmother with lots of experience handling babies. Someone who has no interest in dating. And that’s another thing—if you do date someone, I don’t want him out here at the ranch. No boyfriends allowed. I feel I need—”

      Suddenly Megan shoved the bottle away and began crying lustily. Wyatt tried to feed her again and then he put her on his shoulder, patting her back and talking to her. When she screamed all the louder, he stood, jiggling her, talking to her and patting her as he walked back and forth.

      “I don’t know if she senses something has happened or if she’s always been this way, but sometimes she’s fussy. The pediatrician said she’s in good health, though, maybe a bit colicky, or maybe she’s just unhappy with the world.”

      Grace set down her purse and stood, crossing to him. “Let me hold her awhile and see if a change in people helps.” Grace reached up to take the baby from him. “You might get her more formula,” she suggested.

      “I don’t think she’ll take more,” he said, looking at the almost empty bottle. “She doesn’t usually finish her bottles.”

      Grace smiled at him and took Megan from him, settling the baby against her shoulder, walking around and patting her back as Wyatt had done. She walked to a window and turned so Megan could see outside if she cared to look, and then she moved around the room. Megan continued to scream, and Grace held her closer and began singing softly to her. In minutes Megan grew quiet and Grace continued to walk and pat her.

      Wyatt returned with a half-filled bottle, watching Grace as she moved around the room with his niece. Megan snuggled against Grace, who walked to the rocker and gently eased herself down. “Give me the bottle and I’ll see if she wants more.”

      Grace shifted Megan in her arms and held the bottle for her. To Wyatt’s surprise, Megan took it and began to suck while Grace rocked and sang to her.

      With his hands on his hips, Wyatt studied the two of them. “For a woman who knows nothing about babies, you’re doing a pretty good job,” he said, still standing