LITMIR.BIZ

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he ordered. “There’s someone here I want you to meet.”

      “Leash?” Katherine echoed weakly.

      “Imaginary leash,” Trey said quickly. “I may not be father of the year, but I don’t tie my kids up.”

      “Doggie—Dougie—thinks he’s a dog.”

      The girl’s room must have been right next door, because Stacy arrived in no time at all.

      She stood in the doorway, arms across her chest. She was dressed entirely in black. Black leggings, black oversize turtleneck that hung down to her thighs, black lace-up boots with big clunky heels. Her short hair was black, too, although Katherine would have wagered she hadn’t been born with it that extreme color. She wore thick black eyeliner, an extremely pale shade of pancake base, an almost blackish red shade of lipstick, and black nail polish.

      The effect was…striking, but perhaps a little much for a thirteen-year-old.

      “A dog,” Katherine echoed.

      “Yeah.” Stacy gazed at her, unsmiling, sullen to the point of near rudeness. “You know, arf, arf.” She turned to her father. “If you whistle for him, Trey, he’ll come.”

      Trey looked decidedly displeased, the muscles in the sides of his jaw jumping. “I’m not going to whistle for him because he’s not a dog.”

      Stacy turned to Katherine. “You must be nanny number 4,515.” The girl looked at her critically. “The suit’s cool, the knee-length skirt’s kind of retro, but you should lose the dorky blouse and just go with the jacket with nothing underneath—except maybe one of those black Miracle Bras from the Victoria’s Secret catalog. Trade in the nerd shoes for something with a three and a half inch heel and—”

      “And I don’t think so,” Trey interrupted.

      “Yeah, you wouldn’t,” Stacy said with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re the one who hasn’t gone out with anyone but the awful Ice Queen in years—unless you’ve been getting busy on the sly with someone I don’t know about.”

      Oh, dear.

      For one awful moment, Trey Sutherland looked as if he were going to throttle his daughter. And then for one truly dreadful moment, Katherine was afraid the man might cry. Then everything he was feeling, anger and hurt and embarrassment, was tucked neatly away. And when he spoke, his voice was devoid of all emotion.

      “What did I do to deserve that?” he quietly asked his daughter.

      Stacy knew perfectly well that she had completely overstepped the boundaries of propriety by saying such a thing in front of a stranger. She could apologize, or she could take the defensive route. As Katherine watched, the girl unwisely chose defensive. “It was just a joke. Lighten up, Trey.”

      Oh, dear. He clearly hated that she called him by his first name, and Stacy knew it. Katherine could see that the girl certainly had learned how to push her father’s buttons.

      “If I’m nanny number 4,500 and something,” Katherine said, stepping boldly into the fray, “I can understand how this all might be a little overwhelming for the pair of you—and for Doug, too, poor thing. So why don’t we start again?” She looked at Trey. “Why don’t you give your son a break and whistle for him—obviously that’s what he wants you to do. And as for you—” she turned to Stacy “—let’s do this nicely, without embarrassing your father any further, shall we?” She held out her hand as Trey sighed and let out a piercing whistle. “I’m Kathy Wind. How do you do? Shake my hand and say ‘Fine, thanks.’”

      Stacy’s fingers were cold and she had a grip about as firm as a fish. But her mouth twisted into what could almost be called a smile. “Fine, thanks.”

      “Excellent.” Katherine smiled, and squeezed the girl’s hand before letting go. “I think it’s important you’re in the information loop, so you need to know that your father’s only considering hiring me temporarily—until you and he and Doug can find someone that you’d like to hire for the long-term. I’ll be faxing my references and resume as soon as possible. I imagine you’ll want to look them over, too. If you have any questions you’d like to ask me then—or now, for that matter—please go right ahead.”

      “Do you ride horses?”

      A flash of movement near the farthest of the two sofas caught Katherine’s eye. Two very large brown eyes blinked at her and then quickly disappeared. Douglas had appeared. So to speak. Katherine looked back at Stacy. “Not well, I’m afraid. Do you?”

      “I hate horses. Is that hokey accent for real?”

      Trey closed his eyes. “Stacy—”

      “More real than your hair color,” Katherine pointed out.

      Doug was back, peering around the back of the sofa, and this time, Katherine didn’t look directly at him. She simply let him look at her.

      Stacy leaned against the wall, feigning disinterest, but there was a definite spark in her brown eyes. “Don’t you like my hair this way?”

      Katherine didn’t hesitate. “The style? Yes. The color, sorry, no. However, it is your hair and you have the right to dye it whatever color you like.”

      It was the right answer, Katherine noted, because Stacy had to work to prevent her approval from leaking past her facade of boredom. “Do you have any tattoos?”

      Good heavens. “No, I’m tattoo free—and completely un-pierced as well.”

      “Not even your ears?” The girl was actually remarkably pretty, with a heart-shaped face that—even through the last layers of baby fat—boasted a pair of dramatic cheekbones that were quite a bit like her handsome father’s.

      And from what Katherine could see of Doug in her peripheral vision, he looked quite a bit like his sister. Same delicately shaped face. Significantly lighter shade of brown hair, though.

      “Not even my ears,” she told Stacy cheerfully.

      “You’re kidding. Are you a virgin, too?”

      “Anastacia.” Trey bristled, his beautiful mouth set in a grim line. “The idea was that you could ask Kathy questions pertaining to her employment here. If you’d rather go to your room, just keep it up.” He strode tensely toward the hallway. “Where is Douglas?”

      “I imagine he’ll come out when he’s ready.” Katherine looked at the little boy and smiled.

      He didn’t smile back, but this time at least he didn’t retreat.

      “I understand you play the clarinet.” Katherine moved to the couch and sat, and, as if Doug really were a dog, she casually draped her hand over the arm rest, down close to him, as if for him to sniff. “I used to play the oboe.”

      “The oboe? Man, double reeds are really hard to—” Stacy cleared her throat, uncomfortable, it seemed, that she’d actually almost been enthusiastic.

      Out of all her sisters, Katherine was the only one who had glided almost quietly through her early teens. And although she’d mostly kept her mood swings to herself, preferring to hide away in her room with a good book, she’d lived through all three of her sisters’ significantly noisier bouts of thirteen-year-old angst.

      “How about you, sir?” Katherine asked Stacy’s father. “Are you at all musical?”

      “You’ve really got to stop calling me that.” He turned to look at her, his blue eyes just as shuttered as Stacy’s brown ones. This was quite a family. Of course, she should talk. The Wyndhams weren’t known for their lack of repression, and out of all the princesses, Katherine was perhaps most guilty of keeping her true feelings under wraps.

      “Trey used to play the piano, but these days he only plays the stock market,” Stacy said.

      “Sir,” Trey said, sidestepping Stacy’s last remark. “It makes

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