âYou slept with my sister, Mr. Kendall.â
He leaned forward, and the black threat on his face made Leigh draw back sharply.
âYes, I did, Miss Walker. Two consenting adults. And if youâre going to try and blackmail me, then youâre barking up the wrong tree.â
âI have no intention of blackmailing you, Mr. Kendall.â Just what sort of world did this man move in, where blackmail featured on the menu? âIâve come here to break some rather...unexpected news. Iâve come to tell you that youâre a father. You have a seven-year-old daughter. Her name is Amy.â
Dear Reader,
A perfect nanny can be tough to find, but once youâve found her youâll love and treasure her forever. Sheâs someone whoâll not only look after the kids but also could be that loving mom they never knew. Or sometimes sheâs a he and is the daddy they are wishing for.
Here at Harlequin Presents® weâve put together a compelling series, NANNY WANTED!, in which some of our most popular authors create nannies whose talents extend way beyond taking care of the children! Each story will excite and delight you and make you wonder how any family could be complete without a nineties nanny.
Rememberânanny knows best when it comes to falling in love!
The Editors
Look out next month for:
A Nanny for Christmas by Sara Craven (#1999)
CHAPTER ONE
THE decision to contact Nicholas Kendall had been a difficult one, arrived at after months of soul-searching and after every other option had been exhausted.
Or at least as far as Leigh could see.
And then there had been the big question of how precisely to establish contact. Should she telephone him? It was too big an issue to deal with over the phone. Should she just find out where he lived and pay him a surprise visit? No, he might die from shock. She had no idea how old he was or, for that matter, what the state of his heart was. So she was left with the ubiquitous letter.
But, then, how much should she say? Enough to arouse his curiosity but not so much that he dismissed the situation without a second glance. After all, she knew precious little about the man.
Jenny had told her about him in one shocking emotional outburst, but a hospital bed had been no place to ask all those questions that had forced themselves to the surface, shattering in ten charged minutes the calm, contented surface which had comprised her sisterâs life. And now there was no Jenny around to tell her anything at all.
She had posted the letter ten days ago. Now, holding his reply in her hand, she felt exactly as sheâd imagined she would. Unsure. Had she done the right thing? Had she betrayed her sisterâs confidence or would she have understood? She stared down at the sheet of thick paper, at the black handwriting and wished she hadnât found herself forced into this corner.
âWhatâs the matter?â
Leigh looked up from the letter and hurriedly stuffed it into the pocket of her cardigan, then she shook her head and smiled down at the child, staring earnestly up at her.
âNothing. Have you brushed your hair, Ames? You canât go to school looking like that.â She looked fondly at her niece and tried to eliminate the traces of worry from her face. Children could be unnervingly clever at picking up shades of feeling, and the more Amy was spared the better. She had already been through enough.
âItâs the house, isnât it?â Amy said in a small voice. âTheyâre going to take the house away from us, arenât they?â
âWhat on earth makes you say that?â Leigh felt her heart sink.
âI heard you talking to Carol about it on the phone last night.â
They stared at each other and, not for the first time, Leigh felt an overwhelming sensation of helplessness. Helplessness in the face of events over which she had no control. Helplessness at being caught up in a cyclone. Helplessness at being unable to run away because there was Amy, her sisterâs daughter, who needed looking after. Oh, God, how on earth was she ever going to explain what was going on?
âYou should have been asleep, Army!â
Amy didnât say anything. She just stood there in her winter school uniform. Seven years old, with long dark hair and solemn, green eyes.
âYes, darling, there are a few problems with the house. Iâm working on it.â
âWill we have to move out?â
âWeâll see.â She paused and sighed. âWe might, yes.â
âBut you wonât leave me, will you?â she asked in a high whisper, and Leigh knelt on the ground and took the childâs face between her hands. It wasnât the first time that she had had to do thisâto persuade her niece that she wasnât about to disappear, that sheâd be there when evening came and when the following morning rolled around as well. The school psychologist had told Leigh that it was a reaction she could expect and one which could last for years after the deaths of Amyâs parentsâa need to be reassured and a tendency to cling like ivy to the support systems that remained in her life.