âWhat did you feed them for lunch?â Kaitland demanded.
She set Maddie down and gathered Bobby to her.
âCookies,â Max quietly admitted. âAnd milk.â
âThatâs all?â Kaitlandâs eyes widened.
âThey seemed to like it,â he added defensively.
Cradling a child in each arm, Kaitland shook her head. âItâs nap time. I need to put them down, and then weâll talk about their schedule.â
âTheir schedule? You make them sound like army recruits.â
âYou really donât know anything about babies, do you?â
Max ran a weary hand through his hair. âYou know I donât But Iâve sent for someone from the agency at the church. Theyâve assured me thatâ¦â His eyes suddenly narrowed. âWhich brings me back to my original question, Kaitland. What are you doing here?â
âSurprise,â Kaitland said brightly. âIâm the new nanny.â
Growing up in a small military town in Oklahoma where she used to make up stories with her next-door neighbor, Cheryl says sheâs always written, but never dreamed of having anything published. But after years of writing her own Sunday school material in the different churches where sheâs taught young children, and wanting to see more happy endings, she decided to give it a try and found herself unable to stop.
Seeing so many people hurting, afraid to reach out and accept Godâs forgiveness, inspired her to begin writing stories about Godâs love and forgiveness in romances, because, she says, âWe canât truly have happily ever after, if we donât have that happily-ever-after relationship with God, too.â
Cheryl now lives in a small Louisiana town and has been happily married for fifteen years. She has two wonderful children who think itâs cool to have a âwriting mama.â Cheryl would love to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 207, Slaughter, LA 70777.
The shrill cries woke him.
Multimillionaire bachelor Max Stevens rolled over in bed and listened.
It couldnât be the television since his twin brother, Rand, and Randâs new wife, Elizabeth, were on an extended honeymoon. Besides, the sound of the TV wouldnât reach his suite of rooms.
None of the staff at the house he shared with his brother would dare turn on a TV while on duty. And gauging from the skyâs pale light it was probably about 6:00 a.m.
Cats, he decided. Despite the gardenerâs attempts, strays had obviously gotten onto the grounds again and were fighting. Max pushed himself up in bed, the silk sheet sliding down his chest and pooling at his waist. It looked as if he would have to break up the fight himself since he could still hear the noise down on the patio.
Swinging his bare legs over the edge of the bed, his toes sank into the lush tan carpet. He slid his feet into slippers and grabbed his silk robe, shrugging it on over his paisley shorts. He doubted anyone was up yet. However, in a house this size, he could never be certain of not running into the staff. It was safer to stay decently covered.
As he walked to the balcony, he rubbed a weary hand over his face. This was not how he liked to be awakened early in the morning. He had a hard day of work ahead of him. Stevens Inc. was planning two more store openings across the country and with Rand gone, all the extra work fell to Max. Not that he begrudged Rand his vacation for a moment. Rand had been in a tailspin after losing his wife, Carolyn, almost two years ago. Blind and bitter, it had taken his occupational therapist, Elizabeth, who was now Randâs wife, to lead him back to the living. Eventually, Randâs sight improved and he began working at the office. Max had been grateful for Randâs help again. He wholeheartedly approved of his brotherâs extended honeymoon before coming back to work full-time. Max had held down the fort for over a year, what difference did a few extra months make?
Still, it wouldâve been nice to have been done with his morning devotions and prayer before this interruption. His whole day would feel off-kilter now.
Padding down the balcony stairs, Max followed the wrought-iron railing around the curve to the patio below. But when he turned the corner, he stopped and stared in stunned amazement
âSarah!â It was his housekeeperâs fault. It had to be. âSarah, where are you!â
He continued to stare, rooted to the spot until he heard hurried footsteps. âOh, mercy,â the housekeeper said.
Her gasp told him heâd been wrong. âDo you have grandkids?â