LITMIR.BIZ

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from that one near-disastrous confession her first night on the job, she fit into her role of nanny without a hitch. No one, she was sure, had any inkling that the affection she lavished on Tommy stemmed from anything other than pure dedication to the job she’d been hired to do.

      So why, as one fear lessened, did another kind of uneasiness take its place? Why wasn’t the fact that she had unlimited access to her nephew, that she had a more or less free hand in how she went about her responsibilities, and that she lived in a gorgeous house in a breathtaking setting, enough to make her as happy as could be expected?

      The answer wasn’t one she cared to dwell on, but there really wasn’t any escaping it. Pierce Warner was the problem. Not because he frequently seemed to forget that he wasn’t in the Navy any longer and didn’t realize that four-year-old boys weren’t miniature underlings with a built-in respect for strict adherence to rules and regulations. That Nicole could and did handle, but diplomatically—not just because she didn’t want to put her job at risk, but also because the last thing Tommy needed at that point in his life was two adults squabbling in front of him.

      What she couldn’t swallow with any sort of equanimity were the twinges of envy that attacked without warning every time Louise Trent showed up and lay claim to Pierce with a determination that couldn’t have been made clearer if she’d stood on the roof and screamed to the whole world: “Hands off! This man is mine!”

      Equally difficult to stomach was the fact that, while she plowed around the house suitably dressed-down as befit a nanny, Louise flaunted her assets shamelessly. She wore silk which never wrinkled, no matter how hot the day; delicate strappy sandals with heels as fine as wineglass stems. To showcase her sinfully beautiful legs, her hemlines never rode a fraction of an inch lower than mid-thigh, regardless of the weather.

      And speaking of which, while Louise protected her porcelain complexion beneath wide-brimmed hats made of the finest panama, Nicole grew as brown as newly baked bread from chasing Tommy around the garden and along the beach. Truly, she felt every inch the peasant servant in contrast to Louise who clearly saw herself as lady of the manor.

      Nicole tried to rationalize her feelings the best way she knew how. She told herself that they arose because Tommy deserved to have Pierce to himself more often, instead of having to make do with a quick visit sandwiched between the end of his uncle’s working day and Louise’s plans for the evening.

      But that line of reasoning fell apart when she found herself lying awake waiting to hear the sound of the automatic garage door opener heralding Pierce’s late night return from his date, and wondering how serious he was about Louise, if they were sleeping together.

      Once the questions entered her head, there was no escaping them and, to her shame, she found a way to get the answers. One morning in early July when Janet joined her on the patio for midmorning coffee, she said, with what she prayed would come across as nothing more than idle curiosity, “Are the Commander and Miss Trent planning to get married soon?”

      “If she gets her way, they will,” Janet replied sourly. “That woman sank her chicken-pluckers into him, the minute she set eyes on him.”

      “Oh,” Nicole said, her spirits plummeting absurdly. “They’ve known each other some time, then?”

      “About six months. They met when he came home for good and started shopping for a place to live. She found this house for him and made herself generally indispensable in the process.”

      Nicole smiled. It wasn’t the first time Janet had intimated her dislike of Pierce’s lady friend. “Where will you fit in, if she becomes Mrs. Warner?”

      “I won’t,” Janet replied, without hesitation. “I’ll hand in notice before she gets the chance to fire me. I was housekeeper for the Commander’s parents from the time he turned fourteen, and I’d gladly work for him ’til I drop in my tracks, but that hussy...!”

      She snorted disparagingly, then gave way to a gleeful smile. “Of course, things aren’t going as smoothly as she’d like anymore,” she remarked, nodding to where Tommy played in his sandbox. “Inheriting someone else’s child isn’t part of her plan, for all that she puts on such a fine act when the Commander’s around to see it. But I guess you’ve gathered that much for yourself, Nicole. You don’t strike me as someone who misses much when it comes to that boy.”

      “No. In fact, that’s what prompted me to ask if the relationship’s serious,” Nicole said, and tried to believe the allegation was true. What sort of idiot allowed herself to moon after a man already in love with someone else, after all?

      But the envy continued regardless. Became more like plain, green-eyed jealousy, in fact. And without knowing how it happened, she found being with Tommy wasn’t quite enough to fill all her needs. Sometimes, she ached for a man’s arms around her, for a man’s lips to be pressed to hers.

      Specifically, she wanted Pierce’s strong, tanned arms around her, and his broad shoulder to lean on. She wanted his gaze to settle on her lips with the same hungry curiosity that hers glommed onto his. He had a very handsome mouth; strong, finely sculpted, sexy.

      She was so ashamed of herself, so mortified. Her only consolation lay in the fact that he had no idea how she felt about him.

      Unfortunately, Louise Trent did.

      CHAPTER THREE

      NICOLE had long believed women were more intuitive than men, and Louise proved herself no exception. Her built-in radar started picking up danger signals almost as soon as Nicole herself realized the direction in which things were headed, and her cordiality shrank proportionately.

      At first, she tried to direct her attack through Pierce. “Grief, sweets,” she trilled, the Saturday she arrived unexpectedly and found him sharing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by the pool with Nicole and Tommy, “what a good thing I decided to stop by and let you take me out to lunch.”

      “Why don’t you join us instead?” Pierce suggested, pulling up a chair for her. “We’ve got plenty of food and iced tea.”

      Louise inspected the sandwiches as if she expected to find roach tracks in the peanut butter, and shuddered. “They’re serving fresh Dungeness crab salad and chardonnay at the yacht club, Pierce.”

      “Sorry, Louise,” he said. “I promised Tommy I’d give him a swimming lesson this afternoon.”

      She swept a glance over the scene, her eyes beneath the brim of her black straw hat coldly assessing. Nicole could imagine what sort of tableau the three of them made, lounging at leisure amid an assortment of towels, sunscreen lotion and inflatable water toys. To the uninitiated, they might have been the perfect, close-knit family, with Louise the interloper. And that clearly was not a picture the visitor relished.

      “Why you, Pierce?” she inquired.

      He shrugged his decidedly splendid shoulders. “Why not me?”

      “Because,” she said peevishly, “I fail to see the point in hiring a dog if you have to bark yourself.”

      It was a calculated insult made all the more offensive by her studied appraisal of Nicole, which Pierce didn’t miss. The family man image refocused to reveal his other persona, the naval officer unused to having his decisions questioned.

      He put down the sandwich he was about to bite into, fixed her in a stare that only a fool would have perceived as anything other than highly dangerous, then brought his gaze to bear on Nicole. “Dog, Louise?”

      The August afternoon crackled with unspoken hostility. Feeling suddenly and indecently exposed beneath the scrutiny, Nicole found herself reaching surreptitiously for her cotton cover-up, even though her one-piece swimsuit was modestly cut.

      Tommy shattered the tension. “Where’s a dog?” he asked hopefully, looking around.

      “It’s just a figure of speech, Thomas,” Louise said. “There isn’t really a dog here.”

      But although

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