His New Nanny. Carla Cassidy

is an early riser. One last thing. My daughter is afraid of the dark. There’s a night-light in her room. Make sure it’s turned on each night when she goes to bed.”

      She got up from her chair, aware that she was being dismissed. “Before I leave, there’s something I’d like to ask you. I understand that Melanie quit speaking two months ago. Can you tell me under what circumstances this happened?”

      He walked around the desk and moved to stand before her…too close…invading her space. His green eyes gleamed with a hard light as his lips once again curved into a smile, this one not so pleasant.

      “Haven’t you heard?” he asked, and one of his dark brows quirked upward. “Melanie stopped speaking on the night that I murdered her mother.”

      Chapter Two

      Sawyer saw the lift of her chin that displayed a touch of bravado, which was incongruent with the loss of color from her face. She was a pretty woman, with her soft brown hair and guileless blue eyes. She smelled like jasmine, and he felt a stirring deep inside him as he breathed in her fragrance.

      “If you’re trying to shock me, then you’ve failed,” she said. “I stopped at a café on my way here and heard all the rumors about your being responsible for your wife’s murder.”

      “Then why did you come? Why didn’t you high-tail it out of here when you heard the rumors?”

      Some of the color was slowly returning to her cheeks. “Because Melanie needs somebody. Because my brother told me you’re a good man.”

      The knot of tension that had been in his chest for weeks eased somewhat at her words. He’d always believed he was a good man, but Erica’s murder had turned him into somebody he scarcely recognized.

      “I didn’t kill her.” The words came from him without passion. “But I need to know how strong you are, if you can withstand the rumors, the absolute ugliness this has brought into this house, into my life. I don’t want Melanie to get attached, then you wind up running because you can’t take the heat.”

      Her chin tilted upward once again. “I have no intention of going anywhere until you tell me to go.”

      He nodded, satisfied with her answer, at least for the moment. “The investigation into Erica’s death is ongoing. I will tell you that I’m the primary suspect right now.”

      “You said that Melanie stopped speaking that night. Could you tell me what happened? It would help me to understand her a little better.”

      Frantic worry stabbed through him as he thought of his daughter. What had she seen that night from her bedroom window? If she finally started speaking again, what would she be able to tell the authorities?

      “I can’t tell you exactly what happened. All I know is the night of Erica’s murder I had fallen asleep right here in my office chair and a scream woke me. I knew instantly that it was Melanie. I raced upstairs and into her bedroom and found her standing in front of the window. She was sobbing and shaking so hard she could barely speak. She pointed out the window and said, ‘Mommy’s gone.’”

      Amanda’s face reflected the horror he’d felt that night as he continued. “I looked out the window to where she was pointing. There was a full moon that night, and on the dock I could see one of Erica’s shoes and the lightweight wrap she often pulled on when she was going outside. I thought she’d fallen off the dock and into the swamp water. It wasn’t until I ran down there to see if I could find her that I saw the blood and knew it hadn’t been a simple fall.”

      He drew a deep breath, feeling the need for a drink, wanting to numb himself against the memories, both of Erica’s life and her death.

      “So, you don’t know what Melanie saw?”

      He shook his head. “I don’t know exactly what she saw, but it frightened her so badly it stole her ability to talk. She hasn’t said a single word since that night.”

      Suddenly exhausted, he moved toward the door. All he wanted at the moment was a drink, then to sleep without dreams. And he needed to get away from Ms. Amanda Rockport with her pleasing scent and cupid lips that reminded him it had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the pleasure of a woman. He’d stopped sleeping with Erica long before her death two months ago.

      “As you can see, there’s a computer in here. Feel free to use it during the hours I’m gone if you want to keep up with e-mail or whatever. If you need something for Melanie, just let me know and we’ll get it. There’s a phone in your room with a separate number from the house phone for your convenience.” He rattled off the number, then gestured her out of the office. “And now, unless you have other questions, it’s been a long day.”

      She walked in front of him, her slender hips swaying slightly beneath the navy dress she wore. “Will I see you in the morning?” she asked as she paused at the foot of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms.

      “Probably not. I’ll leave early to drive into Baton Rouge for a day at the office. I’ll be home for dinner. If you need anything or have questions, Helen, our cook, will be able to help you.”

      “Then I guess I’ll just say good-night,” she replied.

      He stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched her ascend. Something about her looked fragile, a shadow in her eyes, a touch of sadness to her features.

      He hoped she was stronger than she looked, because he needed somebody strong and determined to stand by Melanie. He needed somebody who wouldn’t be chased away by rumors and a murder case that seemed to point a finger at nobody but him.

      When she’d disappeared from his sight, he returned to his office and pulled a bottle of Scotch and a glass from his bottom drawer. He poured a liberal amount, then sat back in his chair and took a sip, enjoying the smooth warmth that slid down his throat.

      This was what he’d done on the night of Erica’s murder. He’d sat in here and had drunk Scotch and seethed and stewed. He’d imagined his life without her, and the vision had been pleasing.

      He’d been sick of her lies, the cheating and the knowledge that, not only was she tired of playing wife, she’d been tired of playing mommy. It had been that night that he’d made the decision to get her out of his life.

      He now downed the Scotch and got up from the chair. He shut off the light in the office, then walked to the living room and stepped out of the French doors that led to the stone patio.

      The moon had been full that night, and it was full again tonight. From this vantage point he could see the dock extending out over the glittering swamp. The hanging moss from the cypress trees appeared like gigantic silvery webs spun by gargantuan spiders.

      The swamp was never silent. Insects buzzed and clicked a nighttime melody that had become as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.

      His thoughts went back to the woman he’d invited into his home, into his daughter’s life. Amanda Rockport wasn’t what he’d been expecting. She was prettier than he’d imagined, not that he had any interest in pursuing anything romantic with her. She was his daughter’s nanny and nothing else.

      He smiled with a touch of bitterness. Now wouldn’t that just set the local tongues wagging. He could just hear them speculating that he’d gotten rid of one woman to make room for another.

      His smile faded. The way things were looking, he wouldn’t have time to stir up more rumors or start a relationship. The way things were looking, it was very possible he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison for Erica’s murder.

      

      DESPITE THE LONG DRIVE the day before and the equally long evening, Amanda awakened early the next morning. The stress of a new place and a new bed to get used to hadn’t stopped her from sleeping well. She got out of bed and padded over to the window where the sun had yet to climb completely above the tops of the trees.

      Vapor rose from the water, shrouding the swamp in a haunting