a spare bedroom across from the boys’ room. You’d have your own private bath and of course free access to the rest of the house.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me you’ll take the job, Marisa. You have no idea how important this is to me.”
But she did see how important it was to him. A frantic desperation shone from his eyes, something that looked remarkably like fear.
There was more going on here than just his need for her to teach the boys to be well-behaved. She was definitely intrigued.
The fee she collected from this job would put the final dollars in her bank account that she needed to start her business, but she had no idea how far Jack had come from the bad-boy rocker he had once been. Was this really a man she wanted to work for?
“Okay,” she heard herself saying before she even knew she’d made a conscious decision. “But I have a condition.”
“Just name it,” he exclaimed.
“We agree to a weeklong probationary period. If at the end of that week you wish to terminate me, or I decide to leave, then you pay me for the week and I’m on my way. At the end of that week if we’re both agreeable, then I have a contract to sign that will assure me two months here.”
“Just two months?” he asked.
“I’m a troubleshooter. I only work temporary positions. If you’re looking for somebody for long-term, then when I finish my two months I’ll help you hire somebody for a permanent position.”
“Sounds reasonable to me. When can you start?”
“Tomorrow morning around nine?”
“Perfect,” he said with a sigh of relief. She stood and so did he.
She was far too aware of him just behind her as she walked back to the front door. She turned back to him, finding him standing ridiculously close to her. The scent of him washed over her, a clean scent coupled with the faint remnants of a spicy cologne.
She stepped back, her breath catching in her chest as that crazy surge of heat swept through her. He held out his hand, and she stared at it for a long moment, almost afraid to touch him, afraid of how that touch might make her feel.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said as he awkwardly dropped his hand to his side. She flew out the door and hurried toward her car.
Dear God, what was wrong with her? She was acting like some silly, empty-headed fan—and she hadn’t even liked his music or his band.
She was doing this strictly for the kids. It was obvious they needed some loving attention and a firm hand. Still, as she thought about moving into Jack Cortland’s home the next morning, she couldn’t help feeling that it might just be the biggest mistake she’d ever made in her life.
“What’s he like?” Marisa’s aunt Rita asked. Rita had invited Marisa and Marisa’s current boyfriend, Patrick Moore, for dinner that evening. They were all seated around the dining table in Rita’s apartment.
Marisa picked up her glass of ice water, as if needing the cold against her skin as she talked about Jack Cortland. “Desperate,” she replied. “The little boys are a mess and from all appearances are the ones running things.”
“I still don’t like it,” Patrick exclaimed. “That man has a terrible reputation. I don’t like the idea of you living in that house with him.”
Marisa smiled at the handsome man across from her at the table. “Initially it’s just for a week. If I see behavior that makes me uncomfortable, then after that week I’ll be done.”
There were times she thought Patrick was too good to be true. Not only was he incredibly handsome and charming but he also had a good job as an accountant and seemed to have fallen head over heels in love with her.
They’d been dating only a couple of weeks, but Patrick had already made it clear that he believed she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
Although Marisa liked him a great deal, she wasn’t about to fall into a hot, passionate affair with a man she’d been dating only a brief time. She’d done that once before in her life, and the results had been devastating.
She took a sip of her water and wondered why thoughts of a hot affair automatically brought a vision of Jack to her mind.
“I was a fan of Jack’s band for a while,” Patrick said. “Creation did some awesome songs, but once he married Candace Rothchild the band seemed to go straight downhill.”
“Such a shame about her,” Marisa said. She looked at her aunt. “You were working that murder case for a while, weren’t you?”
“Still am,” Rita replied. “Unfortunately, there aren’t many leads to follow.” Rita shook her head. “I can’t imagine having to bury a child, even a child who was thirty years old at the time of her murder.”
“It doesn’t seem to have slowed down her father. What’s he on now—his third or fourth wife?” Patrick asked.
“Third wife,” Rita replied. “This current one is a former showgirl considerably younger than him. Rumor has it that the thrill is gone and the marriage is in trouble.”
“I’m sorry that Harold lost a daughter, but I’m even sorrier that David and Mick lost their mother,” Marisa said.
Patrick smiled ruefully. “From all accounts, she wasn’t much of a mother.”
“I know, but I still feel bad for those little boys,” Marisa replied.
“Just don’t get too emotionally involved,” Rita said with a gentle smile.
Marisa laughed. “Aunt Rita, I’ve been a nanny for quite some time now. I know how to separate myself from my little charges. I never lose track of the fact that I’m only in their lives temporarily.”
Rita was the only person on the face of the earth who knew what had happened to Marisa in college. Eventually if she and Patrick decided to marry, she’d have to tell him before any vows were exchanged. But it was far too early in their relationship for deep, dark secrets to be exposed.
The rest of the dinner was pleasant, and when they were finished Patrick excused himself from the table and disappeared down the hallway toward the bathroom while Marisa and Rita began to clear the table.
“I like him,” Rita said as she rinsed off one of the dinner plates. This was only the second time Patrick and Rita had shared any real quality time together. Rita had entertained them over dinner a week earlier.
“He is great, isn’t he?” Marisa handed her another plate. “He couldn’t wait to get to know you better. He knows how important you are to me.”
Although Marisa’s parents were lovely people, they’d never really understood their daughter’s desire to make her own way in the world rather than follow them into the very lucrative family real estate business.
Marisa had always been particularly close to her father’s sister, Rita. It had been Rita who Marisa had confided in when her world had fallen apart in college.
“How are you doing?” Marisa asked and gestured to the bandage on the side of Rita’s head. She and Jenna Rothchild had been kidnapped, and Rita had suffered a gunshot wound to the head. It had rendered her unconscious, and although she and Jenna had managed to get away neither of them had been able to identify the man responsible or why they had been kidnapped in the first place.
“I’m okay—a little headache now and then, but that’s all,” Rita replied. “You’re taking things slow with Patrick?”
“Absolutely. I want to marry once in my life. I’m not about to jump