Winning Sara's Heart. Mary Anne Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ hesitated, then finally nodded. “Thank you.”

      “My pleasure,” Mary said. “And speaking of money. Your sitter doesn’t come cheap, does she?”

      Marg had been more than she could afford, but not as bad as some she’d checked into. “She’s reasonable,” she said. “At least for now. She’s closing business as of next week.”

      She didn’t want Mary’s sympathy, but she wasn’t prepared for the woman to actually clap her hands and smile. “Perfect!”

      “Excuse me?”

      Mary’s smile just grew. “You know, I truly believe in fate. That we meet others when we need to and things work out.”

      Sara didn’t understand where that came from. “I don’t see what—”

      “It just so happens that they need someone to help out on a part-time basis at Just for Kids, someone good with children, and someone they can trust. You fill the bill. I think we could work out something where you could leave Hayley there while you work your shift here, then when you’re done here, after lunch, you can come over there and spend the afternoon with her.” Mary looked as pleased with herself as if she’d just figured out a way to bring about world peace. “It’s perfect,” she pronounced.

      “It would be, but I can’t afford something like that,” she said.

      Mary’s smile didn’t falter. “There’s nothing to afford. That’s the best thing about this plan. If you help us out for the afternoon, Hayley can be there all day for nothing. Now, you can’t refuse an offer like that, can you? Still being able to work here while she’s being looked after…and…you don’t have to pay child care costs?”

      She stared at the woman. “I’d work there?”

      “You know how hard it is to get someone you can trust with children. And they’re very particular about whom they hire over there. You’ve told me you worry about Hayley and who’s with her. Well, you’d know who was with her and she’d be right next door.”

      Her tea was forgotten. “You think that I could do that?” she asked, not quite believing that she could be the recipient of this kind of good luck.

      “Yes, I do. I talked to Mrs. Holden and she thought it sounded like a great plan.”

      “Oh, Mary, that…would be…it would be great,” she managed to say around a lump in her throat.

      “Sara!” Hughes came barreling out of the kitchen, striding in her direction like a man on a mission.

      She stood quickly, picking up her teacup. “I need to get back to work.”

      “Tell you what, come in tomorrow right after you finish here, and we can all sit down and iron out the details and get you familiarized with the work involved.”

      “Thank you,” she breathed just before Hughes got to them.

      “Mrs. Garner, forgive me for the interruption,” he said, then looked at Sara. “We just received a reservation for twenty in half an hour. We need to get things set up.”

      “Yes, sir,” she said, and gathering her teacup, smiled at Mary. “Thanks, and I’ll come by tomorrow,” she said, then headed back to the kitchen.

      “Sara?” Leo called to her.

      She stopped by the bar. “What?”

      “That guy, the one who left the huge tip?”

      “What about him?”

      “He left this, too,” he said, and held up a single key.

      She went closer and looked at the key, about three inches long, gold, with what looked like leather molded to the top of it and a monogrammed E on both sides. “What is it, a house key or a car key?”

      “I don’t know, but the guy is either locked out of his house, or his car’s not going anywhere.” He dropped the key in his tip glass, and said, “If he comes in again, and I’m not here, let him know?”

      Apologize and get his key back to him if she ever saw him again. “Sure thing.” But hopefully her mysterious defender wouldn’t return. Otherwise she might lose this very necessary job for good.

      Chapter Three

      One week later

      In the master suite of his ranch house just south of Dallas, E. J. threw clothes into a leather overnight case lying open on his massive poster bed. The house, a sprawling adobe structure that had once belonged to the biggest oil baron in the area, was surrounded by rolling acres of grazing land. He’d bought it because it let him be alone whenever he wanted. He had the money to do it, so why not. Although security was breached from time to time, in general he felt safe here.

      At the moment, safety wasn’t on his mind. His father was. As he tossed in the last of his clothes, he said, “Run that by me again, Dad?”

      He glanced over his shoulder at Ray Dan Sommers, who stood, arms folded, feet braced, without a bit of apology in his expression. Ray was sixty-five years old and looked every day of it, with weathered skin and a sinewy body that came from years of working the oil fields. And he’d just dropped a bomb on E. J. “You heard me, Sonny,” his father said.

      His father was sure he knew what was best for his only child, a thirty-nine-year-old whom he persisted in calling “Sonny” when he was trying to get something past him. E. J., dressed only in his jeans and boots, his dark brown hair still damp from the shower and slicked back from his now clean-shaven face, snapped his case shut. As he reached for a white T-shirt, he said, “Don’t call me Sonny, and you heard me, too.”

      He tugged the shirt over his head, then pulled it down as he looked at Ray again. “Explain,” he said tightly as he tucked the shirt into the waistband of his Levi’s.

      Ray backed up a bit as they met gazes, but he didn’t back down. “It seemed like a real good idea. You know, it’s PR, it’s image-shaping, like the big boys say.” Ray was in his usual jeans, plaid shirt and worn boots. He frowned, drawing his gray eyebrows together over hazel eyes, and stroked the beard stubble on his chin. “With you back in negotiations with LynTech, it couldn’t hurt for you to show your magnanimous side. Charity’s good and it shows there’s no hard feelings about that mess last week. Besides, it’ll give you a big tax write-off to use your place in Houston for LynTech’s charity ball.” He shrugged. “It all works out.”

      “Why didn’t you check with me first?” E. J. asked, his exasperation showing in his tone.

      The son faced the father, each the echo of the other, but with twenty-six years of aging separating them. Ray almost matched his son’s six-foot height, and they were both lean. Both had brown hair, with Ray’s laced with a good dose of gray.

      “You’re right, E. J., dead right,” Ray conceded, catching E. J. a bit by surprise. His dad seldom backed down on anything. “You were busy with…” He shrugged. “Well, you were with Heather, and you seemed busy.” A sly smile touched his lips. “I’d never interrupt that.”

      “When СКАЧАТЬ