Page 29 of The Nanny's Homecoming

That was the key to his success in everything. Pray hard and then do it afraid.

He shook his head and padded down the hall to his own bedroom. This room was very different from the one he’d shared with Tara. He’d lived in a frilly, messy fairy tale with Tara’s clothes strung from one end of the room to the other, her cosmetics left open, her perfumes strong enough to cling to his suits and jeans. When he’d tired of Manny’s teasing, he’d sent his clothes to the cleaners, then moved them to another room. Tara had pouted, but her pouts lasted only until she’d wrangled another shopping trip out of him.

Shopping. She’d once left A.J. in his crib while she went shoe shopping. When he’d come home to find the baby alone and crying, he’d gone ballistic. Tara claimed she’d forgotten. Worse, she’d asked what was the big deal? It wasn’t like A.J. could walk or anything. He was safe in his crib.

How did a mother forget about her child?

He pushed up from the bed and went down the hall to A.J.’s room, needing reassurance one more time that all was well. A.J.’s chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm.

“Thank You, Lord. Protect him when I can’t.”

He lingered in the doorway, watching his son, listening to the gentle breathing.

Something had happened tonight with Brooke Clayton. He’d known he was attracted to her and didn’t want to be. Tonight, when they’d stood together next to A.J., a strange family feeling had come over him. Maybe he’d been alone too long. Certainly Brooke was too young for him, too young to even know what she wanted to do with her life.

But on some deep level, he and Brooke had connected.

Gabe couldn’t get that feeling out of his head.

The telephone shook Brooke from a solid REM sleep. She grappled for the tiny cell phone somewhere on the bedside table, made contact and pulled it onto the pillow next to her ear.

“’Lo.” Her voice sounded like a gravel grinder.

“Brooke, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Gabe?”

“You were asleep.”

She squinted at the cell phone’s white illuminated display. She’d been asleep for only thirty minutes? Rapidly blinking away the cobwebs, she cleared her throat. “No problem. I just got in bed. Is something wrong?”

“There was an accident at the mine.”

She sat straight up, the sheet falling to her waist. “Is anyone hurt?”

“I don’t know. We aren’t working night shifts, so I’m not sure what’s going on. I got a call from the sheriff. He said there was an accident and they need me there.”

The reason for his call dawned as Brooke tossed back the sheet and swung her feet to the chilly floor. Even in early summer, a Colorado night was cold. “What can I do?”

“Will you come over and stay with A.J.? I’m sorry to have to ask, but I hate to drag him out of bed this late. He’s sleeping soundly. He won’t be a bother.”

She could hear his frustration. His responsibility to his son warred with the responsibility of running a business.

“What if something happens?” she asked, head too muzzy from sleep not to speak her mind. He was asking her to be alone with A.J. for an indefinite period of time.

“What could happen, Brooke? He’s asleep. You can sleep, too, if you want.”

Sleep? While caring for a child? If the statement wasn’t so frightening, she would have laughed.

But how could she refuse? What kind of hateful, self-centered person would say no to such a plea? A little child needed uninterrupted sleep. If Gabe woke him, A.J. would be tired and cranky. He’d cry. He’d be miserable. How could Gabe investigate the problem at the mine while tending to a fussy child? Surely, she could do this—once—for a man who’d come to her rescue twice in the space of a week.

Before all the reasons she shouldn’t could rush in and stop her, Brooke took a trembling breath and said, “I’ll be right over.”

Chapter Seven

A sleeping child was a precious sight.

After a harried Gabe left, Brooke pulled a chair beside A.J.’s bed to watch him sleep. He lay on his back, arms flopped outward, head tilted to one side. Lips parted, his breath was slow and even with the occasional deep, restful sigh. Dark lashes splashed onto baby-round cheeks that looked as soft as down. His eyelids, large for his small face, were as delicate and translucent as fairy wings. She wanted to touch them but refrained, lest he waken.

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