His New Nanny. Carla CassidyЧитать онлайн книгу.

      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 mist. Kansas City, Missouri, didn’t have these kinds of views. It was a sober reminder to her that she was far away from home and dependent on a man who may or may not have murdered his wife.

      She shook her head as if to dislodge this thought and instead left the window and crept through the bathroom and paused at Melanie’s bedroom doorway.

      The little girl was asleep, burrowed beneath the pink ruffled bedspread with only the top of her head showing. Amanda softly closed the door of the bathroom, then took a quick shower.

      When she was finished and dressed in a pair of jeans and a light blue T-shirt, it was just after seven. She checked in on Melanie once again. Seeing that she was still asleep, Amanda crept down the stairs.

      There were two things she wanted…coffee and information and not necessarily in that order. Assuming that Sawyer had already left, she went into his office. Even though he’d given her permission to use the computer, she felt like an intruder as she sat in his chair and punched the power button.

      As she waited for the computer to boot up she was aware of the scent of him lingering in the room. A combination of earthy cologne, of shaving cream and the underlying wisp of some kind of alcohol.

      Last night she’d wanted to ask him more questions about the murder, but there had been something slightly forbidding in his eyes.

      When the computer was up and running she went to a search engine and punched in the words Erica Bennett and murder. The search yielded half a dozen results, all from the Conja Creek Gazette.

      The first article she pulled up was the initial report of the murder. It was brief, telling only that the body of Erica Bennett had been pulled out of the swamp and foul play was suspected.

      The second article detailed the crime more completely. Erica Bennett had been stabbed six times before being shoved or falling into the swamp. She had been pregnant at the time of her murder. Sawyer Bennett was being questioned about the death of his wife. The rest of the articles indicated the investigation was ongoing and no arrests had been made.

      Amanda leaned back in the chair, stunned by the knowledge that Erica had been stabbed, and equally surprised that she’d been pregnant. So Sawyer hadn’t only lost his wife, but he’d lost an unborn child, as well.

      She shut down the computer, her mind whirling as she headed for the kitchen to find a cup of coffee. Helen stood at the stove. Her eyes narrowed slightly as Amanda entered the room.

      “If you’ll take a seat in the dining room, I’ll serve you breakfast,” she said, no trace of friendliness in her voice.

      “I’m not much of a breakfast eater and I’m not a guest. I work here, so I’ll just have my coffee in here.” She pointed to the round oak kitchen table.

      “Suit yourself,” Helen replied, pulling a cup from the cabinet. She filled it with coffee, then set it in front of Amanda at the table.

      Amanda slid into one of the chairs and watched the old woman as she began to peel carrots at the sink. “Have you worked here a long time, Helen?” she asked.

      “Long enough,” Helen replied, offering no more information. Amanda took a sip of the coffee and stared out the window, where again she could see the place where Erica Bennett had lost her life.

      “So, you knew Erica?” she finally asked.

      “If you want gossip you’ve come to the wrong place.” Helen turned to look at her. “I don’t carry tales, and even if I did, I don’t know you well enough to talk about personal things. For all I know you’ll be gone tomorrow.”

      “I have no intention of going anywhere,” Amanda countered.

      Helen’s gray eyes studied her coldly. “Time will tell. Death came calling at this house and I got a feeling in my bones that bad things are still to come. I figure you’ll be out of here within a week.” She turned back to the sink.

      Amanda took another drink of her coffee. She’d hoped to make an ally of Helen, but it appeared that wasn’t going to happen. She was truly on her own.

      At that moment Melanie came into the kitchen. Still clad in her pajamas, her dark hair sleep tousled, she offered Amanda a shy smile, then slid into the chair opposite her at the table.

      “There’s my darlin’,” Helen said, her gaze warm as it lingered on Melanie. “How about some French toast this morning?”

      So the old woman had a soft spot, and that spot seemed to be Melanie, Amanda mused. Perhaps her unfriendliness toward Amanda was because she was afraid Amanda would get close to Melanie, then leave.

      “Did you sleep well?” Amanda asked Melanie. Melanie nodded. “After you eat breakfast and get dressed, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do today.”

      The day passed surprisingly quickly. After breakfast and getting Melanie washed and dressed for the day, the two of them played an educational game that Amanda had brought with her.

      Even though Melanie didn’t say a word, Amanda recognized that the child was bright and had a good sense of humor. She also noticed that Melanie was eager to please, and when she did something wrong she flinched, as if anticipating a blow.

      It concerned Amanda and she made a note to discuss it with Sawyer. Lunch was a picnic on the back patio. After they ate, they went for a walk, where Amanda kept up a running commentary about the bugs they encountered.

      They were returning to the house when they met George, who carried a green-stained machete and whose gaze swept over Amanda. Melanie immediately drew closer to Amanda, her little body tense.

      “Well, well, if it isn’t Little Bit and the new nanny.” He swung the machete up over his shoulder. “Getting settled in all right?”

      “Fine, thank you,” Amanda replied, and placed a hand on Melanie’s shoulder.

      He wiped a hand across his broad brow, where sweat trickled down. “You need somebody to show you around town, Ms. Nanny, you just call on me. Erica, she liked the places I took her.”

      A deep chill swept through Amanda. “Thank you, George, but I doubt I’ll have time to do much sightseeing. Come on, Melanie, we’d better get inside and get cleaned up for dinner.”

      As they walked away, Amanda could still feel George’s gaze burning into her back as his words whirled around in her head. Did George have something to do with Erica’s murder? How dangerous was the handyman?

      Sawyer didn’t make it home in time for supper. She and Melanie ate in the kitchen and after dinner played another board game.

      It was almost eight when Sawyer walked into Melanie’s bedroom where the two were stretched out on the floor. Amanda quickly got to her feet as Melanie ran to her father and threw her arms around his waist.

      If Amanda had any concerns about Sawyer being abusive with his daughter, they were dispelled as she saw the fierce love that lit Melanie’s eyes as she hugged her daddy.

      Amanda tried to ignore the faint tension that curled in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him. He looked unbelievably handsome in black slacks and a white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to expose muscled forearms dusted with dark hair.

      The last thing she needed was to develop a crush on her employer, especially a man who had a dark cloud of suspicion hanging over his head. Besides, even if