Triple Trouble / A Real Live Cowboy. Judy Duarte

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      “Yes.” Charlene glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. “They’re sleeping in, probably because they were awake several times last night.”

      “I was telling my Ed about the triplets just this morning—” Melissa began.

      Whatever she was about to say was lost as someone rapped sharply on the back door.

      Charlene looked inquiringly at Melissa.

      “That’s probably LouAnn,” Melissa said as she left the counter and crossed the room.

      Charlene barely had time to wonder who LouAnn was before Melissa pulled open the door. She felt her eyes widen.

      “Good morning, Melissa.” The throaty rasp seemed incongruous, coming as it did from a woman who Charlene guessed weighed at best a hundred pounds, maybe a hundred and ten at the most.

      “Hi, LouAnn.” Melissa gestured her inside. “We’re just having coffee. Want some?”

      “Of course.” LouAnn followed Melissa to the counter, her bright blue gaze full of curiosity and fixed on Charlene. “And who are you, dearie?”

      “I’m Charlene, the nanny.” Charlene tried not to stare, but the silver-haired woman’s attire was eyepopping. She wore a turquoise T-shirt with a bucking horse and rider picked out in silver rhinestones. The black leggings below the T-shirt clung to her nonexistent curves and hot-pink, high-top tennis shoes covered her feet. Skinny arms poked out of the loose short sleeves of the shirt, and both hands boasted jewelry that dazzled. Charlene was pretty sure the huge diamond on her left hand was real, and more than likely, so was the sapphire on her right. Not to mention the large diamond studs that glittered in her earlobes. She was tan, toned and exuded energy that fairly vibrated the air around her pixie frame.

      “Nanny?” LouAnn’s penciled eyebrows shot toward the permed silver curls of her immaculate, short hairdo. “Why does Nick need a nanny?”

      “Have a seat, LouAnn, and we’ll fill you in.” Melissa pulled out a chair next to hers and across the island’s countertop from Charlene. “Charlene, this is Nick’s neighbor, LouAnn Harris.”

      “Pleased to meetcha.” LouAnn hopped onto the tall chair, crossed her legs and beamed at Charlene. “You might as well know you’re likely to see a lot of me. I’m a widow. I live alone and my son and daughter live too far away to visit me often, so I tend to get bored. I was delighted when Nick moved in here and hired Melissa—we’ve known each other for at least twenty years. My, you’re young, aren’t you?”

      “Uh, well…” Charlene looked at Melissa for guidance. The housekeeper grinned, her eyes twinkling. Clearly, she wasn’t bothered by the neighbor’s bluntness. “I suppose I am, sort of,” Charlene replied, taking her cue from Melissa.

      LouAnn snorted. “No ‘sort of’ about it, honey. Compared to me, you’re a child. But then, I’m seventy-six, so most everyone is younger.” She sipped her coffee. “I have to get me a coffeemaker like Nick’s. Your coffee is always better than mine, Melissa.”

      “That might be because I grind the beans. Nick has them sent from the coffee shop he used to go to in L.A.,” Melissa explained to Charlene.

      “I thought it was the coffeemaker.” LouAnn leaned forward and lowered her voice to a raspy whisper. “It looks like it belongs on a space ship.”

      Charlene laughed, charmed by LouAnn’s warm camaraderie.

      LouAnn grinned at her, winked, and turned back to Melissa. “Now, tell me why Nick needs a nanny. I thought he was a confirmed bachelor with no interest in kids.”

      “He is—and he doesn’t, or didn’t, pay attention to children,” Melissa agreed. “At least, he had no interest in children until recently. It’s a sad story, really.”

      When she finished relaying a condensed version of the situation, LouAnn clucked in sympathy. “How terrible for those poor little girls. And how lucky for them—and Nick—that you were willing to step in and help,” she added, reaching across the marble countertop to pat Charlene’s hand.

      “It was fate,” Melissa said firmly. “That’s what I think.”

      “Three little ones—all the same age.” LouAnn shook her head. “How are you all coping?”

      “Except for a serious lack of sleep, fairly well, I think.” Charlene looked at Melissa. “Sometimes it’s chaos, of course, but the girls seem to be doing okay. Jessie has an ear infection at the moment, so she’s a little cranky. But by and large, they’re very sweet little girls.”

      “I can’t wait to see them. How old are they?”

      “They’re a year—uh-oh.” The sound of one of the girls, chattering away upstairs floated down the stairway and into the kitchen. “I think you’re about to meet the dynamic trio.” Charlene slipped off her chair and headed for the door.

      “I’m coming up with you,” LouAnn announced, joining Charlene.

      Melissa brought up the rear as the three women left the kitchen.

      Nick had a long list of priorities for the day, but as he backed his Porsche out of the garage and drove away, he wasn’t focusing on the work waiting for him at the Fortune Foundation. Instead, he was distracted by the memory of Charlene coping with the babies in the middle of the night.

      The picture of her in the bedroom, lit only by the glow of a night-light, was seared in his memory. Her auburn hair had been rumpled from sleep, her long legs covered in soft-looking, blue-and-white pajama bottoms. Jackie had clutched the neckline of the brief little white tank top Charlene wore, pulling it down to reveal the upper curve of her breasts.

      Even half-asleep, he’d been damn sure she wasn’t wearing anything under that top. He felt like a dog for looking, and hoped she hadn’t noticed.

      He’d known having the beautiful redhead living in his house was bound to cause difficult moments, but he hadn’t been prepared to be blindsided by a half-naked woman when he was barely awake.

      Which was stupid of me, he thought with disgust. She’s living in my house. I knew she’d be getting out of bed if one of the triplets woke during the night.

      And as long as he was being brutally honest, he had to admit the pajamas she wore hadn’t come close to being blatantly suggestive. Nevertheless, Charlene’s simple pajama bottoms and tank top would stop traffic on an L.A. freeway.

      Maybe he wouldn’t have felt as if he’d been hit by lightning when he saw her in those pajamas if she were a woman with fewer curves.

      Or maybe, he thought with self-derision, if she’d been wearing a sack I’d still have been interested.

      He knew he was completely out of line. He just didn’t know how to turn off his body’s response to her. Not only was she his employee, she was too damned young for him. His office assistant had telephoned with results of a preemployment background check before he’d left his hotel to drive to the triplets’ foster home. The report not only confirmed Charlene had a spotless employment record, it also told him she’d graduated from СКАЧАТЬ