her own. His hair was short, dark and swept back from his forehead. His features were sharp and elegant—the sort of face that graced the covers of men’s magazines and fitness reports. And his eyes…
They were dark brown, piercing and infinitely bleak.
All too soon Cara was reminded that Ross Gifford was a widower with a pair of twins on his hands. His children were about the same age as hers from what she could remember Polly telling her when she’d dropped the twins off.
“I’ve got twins,” Ross stated bluntly.
Cara noted that his hand remained on the door-jamb as if he fully expected her to turn and run.
“Yes, I know that.”
Even if she’d wanted to change her mind, she couldn’t have moved. His eyes held her pinned to the spot like a rabbit caught in the beam of a car’s headlights. She didn’t need the elegance of her surroundings to convey to her that this was a powerful man. Everything about him radiated strength and control.
“They’re three.”
She resisted the urge to smile. “I have twins myself, so I’m sure I’m up to the challenge.”
He stared at her, and she grew infinitely self-conscious of her attire. She should have taken the time to—
To what? She had come to spend the evening tending a pair of twins. She hadn’t come here to impress Ross Gifford with anything other than her mothering skills.
“Can you give me an overview of your credentials?”
Credentials? Was she going to be interviewed for a few hours’ worth of work?
“What kind of education do you have?”
Cara fought the urge to offer a pithy reply. “I have a master’s degree in philosophy and economics.”
“I didn’t think a person could actually get a job with a master’s in philosophy.”
Of all the nerve.
Her nerves stretched tight. “I find it immensely helpful when spending the evening with toddlers. You’d be amazed how many of them are well-versed in Descartes.”
Although she’d tried to keep her tone light, there was enough of a bite to it that Ross must have realized she didn’t appreciate being grilled.
His lips twitched in a self-deprecating grimace. “I hope you’ll bear with me. My children can be a…challenge. I merely wanted to make sure they would be in good hands.”
His shoulders shifted as if his jacket had grown too tight, and Cara wondered how many sitters had refused to help him before he’d come to the Mom Squad.
“I should have known your agency would send someone equal to the task,” he said, ushering her in with a wave of his hand. “Melba is a jewel. I was sorry to hear she was rushed to the hospital. How is she?”
“In surgery now, but I’ll be getting calls updating her progress throughout the evening.”
Ross nodded, absorbing the information with the intensity of a man being given stock-market quotes. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me posted. The twins and I are very fond of Melba.”
“I’ll do that.”
Without another word Ross turned, making his way toward a wide, sweeping staircase. “Sorry for the rush, but I’ve got less than an hour to get to a benefit dinner.”
“No problem.”
She followed him up the lushly carpeted staircase, trying her best not to look as if she were gawking. The staircase was a sweeping expanse of rich wood carved with wild animals, flowers and vines. The pale carpet underfoot looked too rich to be anything but wool.
Ross Gifford’s house was immense, with high-pitched ceilings, stark white walls and pale ice-white carpets. Except for occasional splashes of color from jewel-toned pillows and the rich woodwork, everything seemed pale and colorless….
And sterile.
Again she was reminded of the fact that this man was a widower. There had been no feminine touches added to the house, no knickknacks, no family photographs, no scattered toys. If not for her job assignment, there would have been no clues that children lived here. No clues that anyone lived here at all.
Again she was filled with the sensation of having entered a showplace for the Parade of Homes design competition and the thought filled her with sadness. The house had so much promise. So much effort had been expended to make it look beautiful, but no one as yet had taken the time to make it feel like a home.
Only once did she get a hint that a family lived here. Midway down the corridor she saw a portrait of a woman with bright-red hair and piercing blue eyes.
Was this Ross’s late wife?
Cara felt a twinge of sadness. How long had Ross Gifford’s wife been gone? Months? Years? Were the occupants of this house still mourning her passing?
“There’s a small kitchenette in the children’s wing.”
Wing? His children had a wing to themselves?
“The play area is located in the south turret, and their rooms are on either side. I’ve left my pager number, my cell number and a list of emergency contacts taped on the refrigerator. The twins have already eaten, but they may want a small snack before bedtime. Stibbs has left some fruit, milk and wheat-germ cookies.”
Wheat-germ cookies? No doubt they were healthy but they sounded less than appealing.
“The children need to be in bed promptly at 8:00 p.m. Their pajamas are waiting on the counter in the bathroom. They’ll need to be bathed first.”
“Of course.” Ross’s tone was so clipped Cara had the sensation of being briefed for battle.
“Other than that, the twins can be a handful once they realize I’ve left them for the evening, but they are usually well behaved. If they act out in any way, feel free to give them a paddling, but I’ve rarely found such a measure necessary.”
Cara bit her lip to keep from saying that she was a proponent of time-out rather than spanking. It wasn’t any of her business how Ross chose to discipline his children.
“If you have any problems at all, please call me. I’ve made arrangements to leave early, so I should be home no later than eleven.”
He stopped in front of a set of double doors. Glancing at his watch, he depressed the brass handle. “I won’t stay other than to quickly introduce you. If the children catch on that I’m going somewhere without them, they’ll scream and cry. They handle things better if I go quickly.”
“That’s fine. I’m sure we’ll all have a great evening together.”
Ross’s brow creased. “I wouldn’t go at all if there were any way to get out of this event. But…”
Despite his stern manner, her heart warmed at his apparent reluctance to leave the children even for a few hours. “We’ll be fine. Feel free to call if you want to check on us.”
“No. That won’t be necessary. I’ve always had good luck with the people sent by your agency.” He paused, opened his mouth as if to say something, then clearly thought better of it. “Well, here goes…”
In one smooth motion he opened up the door, revealing a child’s fantasy playroom on the other side.
“Becca, Brianne…this is Melba’s friend, Cara. She’s come to play with you for a little while. You be good for her, okay?”
In that instant a pair of children came running from the other side of the room, moving into Cara’s line of sight.
And in the space of a heartbeat, the bottom dropped out of her world.
Chapter