His Potential Wife - Grace Green Mills & Boon Cherish

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where he stood. They’d sneaked into her room? They’d not only gone through her private things, but they had destroyed some of them?

      Anger swelled up inside him. This was intolerable. He’d march inside right now and sort the little devils out. But good!

      Wheeling around, he reached for the door handle. No way should she have to put up with—

      He stopped himself just as he touched the knob.

      And told himself to calm down.

      Think it through.

      And when he did, he realized it would be a major mistake to insert himself into the situation. He couldn’t run interference every time the children misbehaved. It would ruin any hope Ms. Tyler had of gaining their respect.

      In the long run, it would do more harm than good.

      So he stood there a little while longer, listening, then he turned away from the door and made his way to the three-car detached garage that sat on the grounds at the westerly side of the house.

      “So…is that understood?” Willow stood over the children, who were clustered in a hostile group by the kitchen table. “We all have our own areas of privacy, and those areas are sacrosanct.”

      “What’s sacrosanct?” muttered Amy.

      “It’s what she said.” Lizzie sounded sullen. “We don’t go there. It’s private. We don’t touch stuff that belongs to other people. Just like you should never have touched my book and ripped out the page!”

      “I didn’t!” Amy cried. “I told you last night, it just fell out and I put it in Mikey’s crib so you—”

      “Children.” Willow gritted her teeth. “Let’s move on, shall we? Let’s start over. It’s a new day.”

      Lizzie avoided looking at her. “Where’s Dad?”

      “He went out.”

      Lizzie frowned. “Where did he go?”

      “He didn’t say,” Willow responded lightly. “But since it’s such a lovely day, we’ll all go out, too.”

      “Don’t wanna go out!” Amy fisted her hands on her hips. “Wanna watch TV!”

      “Me, too!” Mikey dumped himself solidly down on his bottom, his attitude screaming I’m on strike!

      “We’ll go for a swim.” Willow opened the fridge and took out a jar of peanut butter. Scooping a bag of buns from the bread bin, she said, “We’ll pack a lunch and have a picnic after.”

      Lizzie finally raised her eyes and fixed her with a scornful gaze. “We can’t go for a swim. Dad says it’s too late in the season to bother opening up the Summerhill pool!”

      Willow slit the buns and began spreading them with peanut butter. “We’re not going to be using your pool.” She rummaged in the cupboard, found a jar of honey and screwed off the lid. “Now would you run upstairs, Lizzie, and fetch all the swimsuits?”

      “How do you know we’ve got any!” Amy screwed up her freckled little nose. “We might not!”

      “Not!” bawled Mikey.

      “If you don’t have any swimsuits,” Willow said in an airy tone, “then you’ll all have to skinny-dip!”

      Lizzie gaped. “You can’t make us!”

      Willow slathered honey atop the peanut butter. “You’ll have the choice of skinny-dipping or going into the water with your clothes on. It’s up to you.” She focused her gaze on the buns as she sliced them into neat quarters.

      “We’ve got swimsuits.” Lizzie’s tone was dour.

      “Good!” Willow packed the sandwiches in a plastic bag.

      “But,” Lizzie sneered, “we won’t be using them today because we’re not allowed to go in public swimming pools! Our last nanny said that’s where people pick up all sorts of things like athlete’s foot and…other dangerous bugs!”

      “So there!” Amy was triumphant. “We’re not allowed.”

      “Not!” echoed Mikey.

      “We won’t be going to a public pool.” Willow arranged the bag of sandwiches in her backpack.

      “Then where are we going?” Lizzie’s chin had a belligerent jut.

      “It’s a surprise.” Willow regarded her charges with a pleasant smile. “But I think you’re going to enjoy it.”

      Scott got home around two and as soon as he walked into the kitchen, he spotted the note propped against the fruit basket on the harvest table.

      Dr. Galbraith,

      I’ve taken the children to the creek, to play in the shallower water down below the swimming hole.

      How was his new nanny coping? he wondered. He could just imagine the protestations she’d been subjected to when she’d suggested a swim. No matter what she’d suggested, the arguments would have been the same. And if the kids hadn’t objected in so many words, they’d have expressed their hostility in attitude. He’d seen them in action untold times, with the previous five nannies.

      It might be interesting, he reflected, to take a stroll through the forest, and sneak a peek at the situation.

      The swimming hole was on the Galbraith estate, and because of the craggy cliff that rose from the far bank, the area was inaccessible to the public and could be reached only via a private trail through the woods from Summerhill.

      He hadn’t been near the old swimming hole in years; and he wondered, idly, how Ms. Tyler even knew of its existence.

      Willow packed away the picnic things and stood for a moment watching the children frolic in the shallow waves that washed over the smooth sun-warmed sandy beach.

      It had been difficult for her to come here. She’d found it distressing to walk past the deep secluded pool where she and Chad had spent so many secret hours swimming together as teenagers—but she’d known her charges would love playing in the water and on the sandy beach so she’d made the effort. And now she was glad. They’d had fun.

      They made a colorful picture, she mused as she watched them splash around in their expensive designer togs, Lizzie in her yellow bikini, Amy in a blue one-piece, Mikey in his neon-orange shorts.

      She should have brought her camera. She would, when they came back another day.

      But it was time now to be heading home, so she should be calling to them to come and get dried off and dressed.

      First, though, she should put her own clothes on.

      She slipped behind a leafy bush high enough to give her some privacy from the children but not too high that she couldn’t see over it to check on them.

      She slipped off her bikini…and then, on an impulse, stretched up her arms to the sky, relishing the unfamiliar and primitive sensation of being naked in the golden sun—

      A twig crackled nearby.

      Her pulse gave an erratic jump, and when she slewed her gaze to where the sound had come from, she felt her heart stop. Scott Galbraith was standing as if frozen to the spot, just three yards away on the fringe of the forest, his blue eyes staring at her with as much shock as she knew must be glittering in her own.

      Suppressing a horrified gasp, she swept up her towel and screened herself from the neck down. Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire; her heartbeats scrambled out of control. She clamped her jaw to keep from yelping “What are you doing here?” and waited tensely for him to make a move.

      He grimaced.

      And then muttering something under his breath, he took a step backward.

      “I’m sorry.” His voice was thick, his tone filled with

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