Undercover Nanny. Wendy Warren

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      The tiny person let loose a torrent of sobs worthy of a Broad way star. Her hollering apparently drew the three other children. Even before Max could admonish the boys for goading their sister, they began to heatedly defend themselves while the elder girl patted the little one—maybe a bit too hard—on the back. As the little one cried, spurts of tears arced from her eyes as if they were tiny fountains. Then she leaned forward and barfed on Max’s shoes.

      Max looked down then up, locking gazes with D.J. “Get your suitcase and meet me back here at three. You’re hired.”

      “And this is the master bedroom,” Maxwell said, concluding an abbreviated tour of the rustic, ranch-style house set on two un-landscaped acres along Sardine Creek Road in Gold Hill, Oregon. “I haven’t had time to move all my things out yet, but make yourself at home.”

      He’d rushed D.J. through the kitchen, living and dining areas and hadn’t shown her the kids’ rooms yet at all. For good reason, too, D.J. guessed. The house looked like a family of monkeys inhabited it. Obviously, Max had made a quick trip home earlier in the day to arrange the endless stacks of papers, books and games into some approximation of order; but riotous piles of loose things, and garbage pails overflowing with paper cups, cereal boxes and who knew what else, wouldn’t win the Good Housekeeping seal of approval. The brief—very brief—glimpse he’d allowed her of the kitchen had almost made her call Loretta to quit.

      Turning to Max, she plastered a game smile over her misgivings. She was no coward. If she had to, she could suck it up and restore order to this pigsty. “Thanks. I’m sorry to be kicking you out of your room.”

      Behind the fatigue, a flash of wry humor lit his light eyes. “I’d sleep in the backyard on a bed of nails if it’d help get this household on track.”

      “When did it go off track?” D.J. punctuated her question by swinging her suitcase onto the well-made bed. Clearly Max had taken more trouble with this room than with the others. If there’d been any reminders of the children’s mother—photos, clothing—it was all gone now.

      D.J. knew her curiosity was a tad more than professional. Aside from being big and strong and darkly gorgeous, Max appeared to have boundless patience with his kids. He really enjoyed them, which made D.J. endlessly curious about the woman whose absence was forcing him to secure child care. Where was she? Was she coming back?

      Unfortunately, D.J. sensed already that Max was not a spill-his-guts-on-the-first-date kind of guy, so she would keep everything casual for the next day or so. It wasn’t going to be easy. Protective of her own information, D.J. nonetheless had a natural curiosity about other people—how they’d been raised, what their families were like, how they lived. In high school she’d frequently been in trouble for talking too much, and in one of her first jobs, as a cashier, she’d almost been canned for interrogating her customers. She’d developed more subtlety since then.

      To convey a relaxed attitude, she unsnapped her suitcase, intending to unpack while she spoke. “So are you completely on your own with the kids?”

      “Yeah.” Max had hesitated a second before he answered.

      Taking a chance, she pressed just a bit. “Has it been that way for long?”

      Max hovered near the door. He spotted some loose change lying on the dresser, scooped it up and put it in his pocket. D.J. sensed he was stalling. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later. Right now I’ve got to get back to the tavern. My lead bartender fell off a damn roof and broke his ankle this morning, so I’ve got the night shift until he can work or I can find someone to cover.”

      “You’re leaving?” The rush of pure fear that shot through her veins amazed D.J. Not being able to question Max further didn’t bother her nearly as much as the thought of being left alone with the kids so soon. “Uh, I’d hoped you could stick around, acquaint me with the routine.”

      “You’ve probably gathered by now that there isn’t one.” He smiled, and for a moment the one-sided quirk of his lips completely distracted her. “Besides, with your background, you’ll be able to teach me a thing or two. Thirteen brothers and sisters.” Max whistled softly. “I was an only child, so to me four kids is the equivalent of a preschool. I was able to get hold of your former employers, by the way. They gave you glowing recommendations. Said you’re a crackerjack waitress. Very organized and good with people. I’d say those are excellent qualities to apply to child care.”

      D.J. smiled a little weakly. “I’d say so.”

      Max leaned a shoulder onto the door frame. “Don’t worry about anything. The kids seemed to like you.”

      Au contraire. The kids had stared at her with big eyes and distinct doubt when he’d introduced her as their nanny. She couldn’t show fear, trembling and trepidation, though. Not after the song and dance she’d given him.

      “Okay. Yeah, we’ll have a great time. Hope your bartender’s better soon.”

      Still seated on Max’s bed a full ten minutes after he’d left the house, D.J. clasped her hands on her knees, back rigid as a steel girder. She felt as though she was waiting outside the principal’s office. She couldn’t seem to get the information from her head to her gut that from here on in she was the principal.

      Max had started a video for the kids, who were still in the living room and still quiet, but she knew she had to get out there soon. For one thing, she’d conned him into believing her housekeeping skills were on a par with her child care abilities. Which they were.

      Unfortunately.

      Slapping her knees, D.J. stood and shook the nerves from her body. Time to sally forth and set a few precedents for running this house; she couldn’t spend all her time corralling children. Matter of fact, she’d have to come up with a few clean-up projects to keep the kids busy so she could focus on Max when he was home.

      Cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders to loosen up, D.J. commanded her feet to move toward the door. She’d work in a quiet yoga session later, but now it was time to get out there.

      Wishing she’d thought to buy a couple of toys, utterly willing to resort to bribery right off the bat, she walked sprightly down the hall, clapping her hands as she neared the living room. “Okay, kiddos, ready to have some fun? I… Ah!” The sight that greeted D.J. stopped her dead in her tracks and elicited a swear word before she could censor herself.

      Four children and one can of whipped topping had wreaked havoc on the already disrupted living room. Ribbons and clouds of the stuff covered the coffee table, sofa, windowsills. “What are you doing?” Heaven help her, but she swore again.

      One of the twins responded. “You said a baddie.”

      Yes, she had. And now she was speechless.

      “She sa-id—” The other curly headed brother began a singsong recounting of her indiscretion, using the word several times in succession.

      “James, stop that,” D.J. ordered.

      “I’m Sean! And you sa-id—”

      The youngest child, Livie, sat on the sofa with a huge teddy bear at her feet, clumsily ladling ice cream out of a half-gallon container. Both the bear and the child, D.J. noticed, had ice cream mustaches. “She said a baddie, she said a baddie…” Livie chanted, kicking her feet.

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