Tempestuous/Restless Heart (19 page)

Putting a tight leash on his opinions, he said neutrally, “Raisin’ five kids all alone must be some kind of job, eh?”

“Alone?”

“You’re divorced, right?”

“Me? I’ve never been married.”

Disappointment settled over Remy like a thick mist. Five kids and she’d never been married? That was a hell of a track record. He whistled between his teeth. “Ah, me,
chère
, you get around.”

Danielle wheeled on him at the door of the nursery, her eyes like twin silver moons. “Me? You think these are
my
kids? You’ve got to be kidding!”

Remy stared at her, confused but relieved. “They’re not your kids?” he asked above the wail of the baby.

“No, thank God. I’m only here because I’m a sucker. These little darlings belong to my sister, Suzannah Beauvais. She and her husband are allegedly on vacation. Personally, I think they’ve skipped town. Who ever heard of rich people going to the Caribbean in the dead of summer?”

Remy shrugged, deciding to treat it as a rhetorical question. He didn’t know all that much about rich people.

Danielle shook her head in disgust as she crossed the plush rose-colored carpet to the white crib where little Eudora sat alternately bawling and choking herself with her fist. “She wanted me, of all people, to stay with her children as a family influence while she and Courtland are away. I’m sure if she ever does come back she’ll be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

She stared down forlornly at the sobbing baby, wondering how she was supposed to know what Eudora’s problem was. She had absolutely no clue how to go about deciphering the moods of a ten-month-old baby. What a failure she was as a woman, she thought as two big fat tears rolled over Eudora’s lashes and down her cheeks.

Remy scooped the baby up, cuddling her close and murmuring to her in Cajun French. She was a cute little thing. Twenty pounds of baby fat with big blue eyes and fuzzy red hair. With one hand Remy found a soft terry-cloth elephant stuck down in one corner of the crib. He handed the toy to Eudora, who promptly began gnawing on the elephant’s trunk. The baby’s wails immediately died down to whimpers, then segued into contented cooing and intermittent hiccups.

Danielle gave him a wary look, as if she’d just witnessed an act of witchcraft. “How did you do that?”

“It’s all done with mirrors,” Remy replied. What kind of woman didn’t know enough to comfort a teething baby? What kind of mother would leave her children with someone who was so obviously lacking in any maternal instincts? His temper surfaced again and he vented it on Danielle, momentarily forgetting that she was his prospective employer. He was much more used to giving orders than taking them. “She’s cuttin’ teeth. Don’t you know enough to give her something to chew on? What kind of a babysitter are you?”

“I’m no kind of babysitter!” Danielle snapped, frustration pressing against the backs of eyes in the form of hot tears. “I’m just supposed to be the family influence. Butler is the babysitter, dammit, and where is he when I need him? Felled by a roller skate! I don’t know anything about babies! How was I supposed to know they don’t come with teeth included? That’s what I’m hiring you for!”

Remy felt a stab of panic as Danielle turned her back to him and started to cry very quietly. It was just a gentle sniffling, a slight trembling of her shoulders. Exactly the way he had always imagined classy ladies would cry. But it was one thing to quiet a baby. A full-grown woman was something else altogether. He could hardly placate Danielle by sticking a terry-cloth elephant in her mouth.

He set Eudora back in her crib and went to stand behind Danielle, not sure what he should do. It tore him up inside to hear a woman cry. To know he was the cause of those tears was like salt on the wound. He doubted most trained nannies would take their boss in their arms and hold them, but that was what he wanted to do. It was the only thing he could think to do.

“Don’t cry,
chère,”
he begged in a low, smoky voice, turning Danielle gently by the shoulders. He gathered her up against him, stroking a big hand over her soft mane of angel hair, drawing her head down to his shoulder. She stood as stiff as a rail against him, fighting her tears and the comfort he tried to offer. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have gotten after you like that.”

“I’m—doing the—b-best I—c-can!” she said with jerky indignation. “I—c-can’t help it—I d-don’t know any-thing!”

“Course you can’t, sugar,” Remy murmured, secretly baffled at the prospect of a woman who was not adept at handling babies.

“I—I’m t-tired and fr-fr-frust-strated.”

“Sure you are.”

“And I’ve g-got—beets in my hair!”

It was that final small indignity that made the tears gush forth in a tidal wave. It had been ages since Danielle had cried in front of anybody. She had always found those rare occurrences embarrassing, undignified, and well beneath her powers of self-control. But the horse was out of the barn now. There seemed no point in trying to hold back. Besides, she didn’t think she had the strength to stem the flood. She hadn’t had a wink of sleep in over two days and it felt so darn good to have someone to lean on, if only for a few minutes.

Remy’s eyes misted over as he felt Danielle let go of her pride and sag against him. “Aw, you just put your pretty face on ol’ Remy’s shoulder and cry it all out, darlin’.”

He stroked her back with a slow steady hand, sympathy seeping through him. The poor thing. Why had she taken on this job when she admittedly had no experience with kids? It was a well-known, scientifically documented fact that kids could sense that kind of thing and mercilessly rode roughshod over rookies. Poor Danielle.

Oooh, he liked the way her name sounded in his mind—kind of soft and sexy. It was the kind of name that would roll easily off his tongue during lovemaking, sounding dark and erotic. He liked the way she felt against him too. Their bodies were instinctively curving into one another, finding all the places where they fit perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. Desire sluiced through him like a hot lazy river.

“They won’t listen to me,” she mumbled, her face still squashed against his brawny shoulder.

“I know they won’t,” he murmured, his lips teasing her silvery hair.

“It’s not that I don’t like kids. I used to be one once.”

“Sure you were,
bébé.”
But she wasn’t anymore. She was a woman, and a damned appealing one.

“Suzannah never should have asked me to help,” she said, her heart filling anew with despair. “She knows I’m terrible at this.”

“Oh, no,
chère
, no,” he whispered as she hiccuped. “It’s gonna be all right, you’ll see. I’m here now.” Every protective instinct Remy possessed surfaced at the thought that she needed him. He was a man who had always respected and acted on his instincts. “It’s gonna be all right,” he said again, tilting her face up with a finger crooked beneath her chin.

Danielle looked at him as though he were the only man left on earth and the two of them had been designated by God to perpetuate the species.
Bon Dieu
, but she was pretty, even with beets in her hair.

He brushed a tear from the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. Then he bent his head and kissed another from her cheek. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lower his head another fraction of an inch and settle his lips against hers.

Danielle felt all her bones melt the exact instant Remy started to kiss her. All thought of nannies and demonic children and her own inadequacies flew right out of her head, leaving behind bright bursts of star dust and gold dust and a soft, hot feeling that oozed through her and settled low in her belly. She pressed herself closer to him as her lips parted, inviting him to deepen the kiss, but Remy moved back a fraction of an inch and raised his head instead, breaking off the delicious contact.

Danielle felt as if she were going to crumble to the floor like so much discarded clothing. “Holy smoke,” she muttered, staring at him. Dazed, she lifted her hand to touch her fingertips to her stinging lips and scratch at the spot his mustache had tickled. That kiss had curled her toes. She’d heard bells. Some welcome to the neighborhood. She doubted Mr. Rogers had ever kissed anybody like that.

“I don’t think you’re old enough to kiss like that,” she said, instantly annoyed with herself for raising the subject of age.

“I been outa short pants a long time, sugar,” Remy assured her.

“Oh, yeah? I’ll bet you don’t know who the Shirelles are.”

“No,” he admitted. “Do you know the Balfa Brothers?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Then we’re even.”

“Even? Huh,” Danielle huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She scowled at him, her straight dark brows pulling together. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Thirty-one. How old are you?”

“I’m—” She gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “None of your business.”

“Oh, come on, sugar, you can’t be—what? Thirty-five, thirty-six?”

Danielle couldn’t decide whether she should be flattered or offended. It seemed like a good time to change the subject. Age wasn’t going to be relevant at any rate, because she most certainly wasn’t going to get involved with him.

“Listen, I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Doucet, but this is a really bad idea. I don’t think nannies should kiss like that.”

Remy grinned like a pirate. “You wanna show me how nannies should kiss? I’m willing to try again.”

Danielle stepped behind a white rocking chair as he took a step toward her. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mr. Doucet—”

“Remy,” he corrected her with a
tsk-tsk.

Danielle swallowed hard. “Remy.” Just as she had feared, his name sounded sexy even from her own lips. It tasted sexy. Just saying his name recaptured the rich dark flavor of his mouth. “No offense, but doesn’t your agency have any stout ladies with ironclad hairdos and support hose?”

“Sorry,
chère,”
he said with a devilish sparkle in his dark, dark eyes as he stepped around the rocker and trapped Danielle against it with an arm on either side of her. “We’re fresh out of them little blue-haired ladies.”

“How about one of those pudgy Aunt Jemima types?”

He shook his head, his inky hair tumbling into his eyes. “All gone.”

Danielle thought her heart was going to pound its way right out of her chest. Remy stood close enough for her to see the shadow of his afternoon beard darkening the broad plane of his cheek. How could she hire a nanny who kissed liked a bandit and had to shave twice a day? But there he stood—tall, dark, and Cajun, with three wayward locks of unruly black hair falling across his forehead and the wickedest bedroom eyes she’d ever seen. Just looking at him made her want to rip his shirt open and run her hands through his chest hair.

It occurred to her that this whole scene was preposterous. She wasn’t the kind of woman who succumbed to instant attractions. In fact, she had pretty much decided to steer clear of men altogether after her last relationship had fizzled. It had become apparent to her that, like many a Hamilton before her, she was doomed to nothing but failed romances. That was a fact of life better accepted than fought against. Besides, this man was applying for a domestic position. She had been raised to think it was unseemly to chase the hired help.

Of course, she wasn’t the one doing the chasing now. She eyed Remy warily as he inched a little closer. He was staring at her mouth as if it were nature’s most fascinating phenomenon. Anticipation rippled through her.

“Tell me,” she said, sounding breathless instead of droll. “Is this the way you normally interview for a job?”

One side of his mustache hitched up and his dimple cut deep into his cheek. His voice was as smooth and dark as
café noir.
“You oughta see how I ask for a raise.”

Danielle felt her stomach drop all the way to her fluorescent feet.

“How many other people you got coming to interview for this job?” Remy asked, forcing himself to take a step back away from her. It was a wonder she hadn’t bonked him on the head with something and run to call the cops. He was coming on like a caveman. But then she made him feel a little primitive. The idea of tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her off into the bayou country held an undeniable amount of appeal.

Chemistry. That’s what was going on here, he decided. He was a man of science, he knew all about chemistry and the irresistible forces of nature … and instincts and biology and birds and bees and beautiful ladies with big pewter-colored eyes …

She dodged his gaze and nibbled on her lip, obviously contemplating a fib.

“How many?” he asked again.

“Um … a few,” Danielle hedged, sucking in a deep breath.

Remy shrugged. “One? Two?”

“Give or take.”

“Give or take how many?”

She scowled at him. “One or two.”

“See there, angel,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “You gotta keep me. I’m all you got.”

An interesting thought, Danielle conceded as an ominous thud sounded a floor above them. She’d run out of agencies to call. The next names on her list had been a voodoo priestess and a professional alligator wrestler.

She shot a glance at Remy, who had gone back to the crib to check on Eudora. Like magic, the sexual tension that had hung thick in the air had vanished. She wondered wildly if she had imagined it. Maybe it had been a combination of exhaustion and wishful thinking. Practical though she was, she wasn’t above fantasizing about handsome, virile men with more hormones than sense. In fact, as forty loomed on the horizon like a black cloud, she could probably count on a lot of moments of temporary lunacy concerning such things.

“How long are the parents gonna be gone?” Remy asked. He picked the baby up and tucked her under one arm like a football as he began snooping around the well-equipped nursery.

“Three weeks,” Danielle said absently, frowning. “Are you sure that’s how you’re supposed to carry a baby?”

“Oh, absolutely.” It seemed the most natural way to tote a baby for a man who had gone to LSU on a football scholarship. He reached his free arm into the small white linen cupboard that was situated in one corner of the blue-walled nursery as he lied smoothly. “It’s the first thing they teach us at nanny school.”