The weekend passed swiftly. Arden didn’t mind working through her days off. She and the girls had so much to learn about each other, and she loved spending time with them. Their fresh innocence and curiosity were delightful.
In contrast, the early days of the next week seemed to drag. Arden attended her classes, relieved to discover after the first day that the girls really enjoyed the day-care center at the university. They found it to be a treat, which simplified matters.
She had several art projects to complete by the end of the semester and found working on them took most of her free time. So it wasn’t a question of being bored.
Yet she thought about Brendan at odd moments during the day. And of course when he phoned each night.
Wednesday, she actually delayed starting her homework after the girls were in bed. Instead, she sat on the sofa, her phone at the ready. He’d called each night at eight-thirty. Since it was his own schedule that had the girls in bed by eight, Arden knew he didn’t expect to speak with them.
Which meant he was calling to talk to her.
Her nerves hummed in anticipation. She loved these nightly calls, though she had to admit there was nothing special about them. Each one was predictable. He’d ask after the girls, then she’d ask about the negotiations. When they’d exhausted those topics, there’d be a long silence. She wished she could see him. Guess what he was thinking. Did he want her to talk about something else? Or did he just like having the connection with home?
Then he’d tell her to take care of his children and hang up.
Yet hearing his voice energized her. And gave her that soft feeling in her heart. She’d spent more time talking with him on the phone than they’d spent talking in person. Was she growing to know more about him from the way he described the negotiations? The brief descriptions he gave of the others on the rescue team? Or was her fantasy world kicking in again?
Lost in thought, Arden was surprised when she noticed it was already past nine. Disappointment flared.
He wasn’t calling tonight. Not that he had to. It was just that she’d grown used to his calls. He’d probably think she was silly to look forward to them so much.
Slowly, she rose. Maybe things had gotten out of control where he was
Her phone rang.
Arden snatched it up.
“Hello?”
“Arden? It’s Brendan.”
As if she wouldn’t recognize his voice instantly.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He sounded tired. Was he taking care of himself there?
For heaven’s sake, he was a grown man. He’d managed without her his entire life.
“More than all right. We got them all out safely.”
“That’s wonderful. You did it, didn’t you? You talked the man into releasing them. Wow, you must be feeling on top of the world. I’m so glad everything turned out right.”
“Yeah, I feel pretty good about it myself.”
“I want to hear every detail. What finally caused him to surrender?”
“I can’t talk for long. I have to go in just a minute, but I wanted to check in. I’ll tell you more when I get home.”
“I’m glad you called. When you get home, we’ll celebrate. I’ll have champagne on ice. And the girls and I will fix your favorite dinner. What do you like best?”
There was silence on the other end for a moment.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said slowly.
“The girls will love throwing a party. Or don’t you normally celebrate major successes like this?”
“I never have.”
“Then this can be the first. What’s your favorite meal?”
“Steak and baked potatoes.”
“Gee, that’s original.”
He laughed. “We are tied up now in debriefings and in making plans to insure the safety of the family in the future. But I wanted to call you. I knew–”
There was a little static on the line, but not enough to cut him off. Had he stopped talking?
“Knew what?” Arden asked.
“Never mind. I have to go now. I’ll be home in the next day or two.”
“You don’t know when?”
“No. I’ll check in and let you know as soon as I do.”
“We’ll plan the party for Saturday. You’ll be back by then, won’t you?”
“For sure, by Saturday. Take care of yourself. I’ve got to go.”
Arden replaced the receiver. He hadn’t asked about the girls. Of course, it had been a hurried conversation.
Still, despite being caught up in the debriefing and the certain excitement of succeeding, he’d taken time to call her. Smiling, she headed for her room and the assignment that waited.
He’d done it. Because of his skills, a family was free tonight, safe and sound. Her heart pounded as she sat at her table.
Pulling her sketch pad close, she drew furiously broad sweeping strokes to capture Brendan as an intrepid explorer hacking through the thick underbrush of the jungle. It seemed appropriate given where he was, and his cutting through the hostage situation. She could only imagine what he’d look like as a jungle explorer, but she’d always had a great imagination.
It was his face that gave her the most trouble. She couldn’t quite capture his expression to her satisfaction. Couldn’t seem to put down on paper that air of sadness that appeared at odd instances. But she could draw his virility and energy. And the sex appeal that slowly tantalized her until she wondered if she could ever see him as an employer, as her boss, and nothing more.
Friday, Arden wondered if that would be the day Brendan returned home. His phone call last night hadn’t satisfied. She wished he’d finish up quickly and return to Virginia. Being patient wasn’t her strong suit. He could return today. He’d said tomorrow for sure.
She had so much she wanted to share with him about his daughters. Hailey and Avery were blossoming. They loved to play outside and had color in their cheeks from their activities.
Both also liked to paint. Once they’d seen her art supplies, they pleaded and cajoled and demanded to be allowed to paint. Arden bought some watercolors, some plain paper, and a roll of butcher paper. Tacking the butcher paper on the long wall beneath the stairs at child height, she allowed them to start a mural. Afternoons, they spent some time outside learning to paint, using the trees and flowers as subjects. Then she’d let them try it on the butcher paper.
Arden put up the fledgling artwork all over the house. It was often difficult to see who was more proud of the work, each artist or Arden.
Hailey had a definite eye for color. Avery liked mixing everything up. But Arden treated each new creation as if it were priceless. She loved to see their proud, beaming smiles when she praised their work.
Friday afternoon both girls were wearing the T-shirts Arden gave them as cover-ups. A thick layer of newspapers protected the floor from drips while Hailey and Avery carefully continued painting their mural. Arden had sketched in trees and flowers and a gingerbread house. The little girls were now adding the color.
Arden sat on the floor nearby, sketching them at work. She loved their concentration. Hailey’s tongue peeked from between her lips as she carefully stayed within the lines. Avery mixed colors until she was satisfied with the results, then smeared it on the paper.
The door opened and Brendan stepped in. He stopped, stunned, looking at his daughters painting the wall beneath the stairs.
“What the blazes is going on?” he asked, closing the door ominously behind him.
Arden looked up, her heart catching in her throat.
He was home. And he looked more wonderful than she remembered.
And furious.
Scrambling to her feet, she brushed her hands against her shorts.
“Hi, you’re home.” Give her extra points for stating the obvious.
He placed his bag on the floor and studied his daughters.
“I can’t believe you’d let them paint the wall.
Glancing around, he turned and glared straight at Arden.
“Toys all over the living room, paint on the walls. They’re dressed like ragamuffins. Is this how you define responsible, Miss Glover? Girls, put down those paintbrushes and go to your room.”
“Wait just a minute here.
Arden motioned to the girls to stay where they were.
Swinging back to Brendan, she placed her hands on her hips and met his gaze without a flinch, her temper flaring.
“If you would take a second and a half to greet your children, and then ask what they’re doing, you might have saved yourself from acting like an idiot. I can’t believe you’d think I’d let them paint directly on the wall. Do you have such little faith in me? Why ever would you have hired me if that’s what you think I’m capable of? We’re painting a mural on butcher paper, not directly on the wall.”
“Butcher paper?”
She nodded and glanced at the girls. Both were watching their father with wide eyes.
“Go kiss your daddy hello, sweeties. I bet he’s glad to see you,” Arden said in a gentle voice.
Her narrowed-eye look at Brendan warned him he better act like he was glad to see them.
“I am glad to see them. I don’t need someone to tell them that.”
“You could have fooled me,” she murmured as the girls ran to greet their father.
He kissed them, ruffled their hair, and then asked them what they were wearing.
“It’s our painting smocks,” Hailey said proudly. “We wear them to keep our clothes clean.”
“Mine’s blue,” Avery said, leaning against Brendan’s leg and watching him with adoring eyes.
“It looks like it swallows you up,” Brendan said, raising his gaze to Arden. “I’m tired. I’ve been making snap decisions for days. There was no need for me to overreact when I walked in the house, however. My apologies.”
She nodded, feeling somewhat placated. He looked tired.
And the strain of the last few days must have been tremendous. Lives had depended upon him.
“The toys will be picked up before dinner. We’ll have the paint put away by then, as well. If we’d known you were coming home this afternoon, we wouldn’t have started painting.”
Looking closely, she could see the lines of fatigue around his eyes, bracketing his mouth. The rest of her anger vanished instantly.
Avery raised her arms, and Brendan leaned over to pick her up. He nuzzled her cheek, and she laughed. For an instant, Arden felt almost jealous.
Impossible. Why wouldn’t she want him to show affection to his daughter?
She wished he’d show some to her.
“Want to come upstairs with me and help me unpack?” he asked.
Hailey nodded, racing back down the hall to put her brush in the jar of water.
In only seconds, Arden was left alone in the hallway. She listened to the murmur of his voice, the childish laughter. Feeling left out, she cleaned up the paints. The girls would be occupied with their father for the rest of the afternoon. They’d paint again another day.
And she wasn’t disappointed. She wasn’t.
He had no reason to single her out to give her a special greeting. The phone calls had just been his way of checking in each day. They had meant nothing special to him.
But for one lonely moment, Arden wished he’d kissed her hello and told her he’d missed her.
Brendan put the last of his clothes in the hamper. Hailey hadn’t stopped talking for a single second. He listened with half an ear, still berating himself for that display downstairs. He shouldn’t have lashed out like that.
But the sense of joy that had hit him when he entered the house and saw Arden and his children had been unexpected. And unwelcome. She was merely his daughters’ nanny. Not someone he had any interest in. Not someone to feel glad to see again.
Avery bounced on his bed, trying to interrupt Hailey and tell him her version of the event. Both girls were talking and laughing and making reference to things he didn’t recognize. Arden would know.
But he could try to figure it out. Bemused by the change in his quiet daughters, he tried to follow their rendition of how they spent their days. It was unexpected, seeing such an appreciable change. But he liked it. He didn’t understand it, but their personalities seemed to sparkle.
A direct result of Arden’s influence?
Thinking about her brought her image to mind again. He could see her rising from the floor, all long legs and graceful movement. He clenched his hands into fists and tried to concentrate on his daughters.
But the memory of Arden’s long legs filled his mind. And her hair. He was becoming obsessed with wanting to see it when it wasn’t tied back. She even slept with it that way, if the other night was anything to go by.
He should have been ready for the impact of seeing her again. Hadn’t he called every night while he was gone just to talk with her, to hear her laughter, the sound of her voice?
“I did that one. Do you like it?” Hailey said, pointing.
Brendan looked at the wall. Two drawings were posted side by side.
“That’s mine, Daddy. It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Avery said, jumping on the bed, her hand going up and down as she pointed as she jumped.
“No jumping on the bed,” Brendan said, sweeping her up and holding her over his head.
She shrieked with laughter. He held her close, wanting to protect her from the ugliness of the world. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Hailey close.
“Tell me again about the pictures,” he said.
He had to pay attention. Time enough later to sort through his thoughts about Arden. This was time for his children.
When Brendan descended the stairs sometime later, the hallway had been cleared except for the fledgling mural. He stopped to look at the sketches, then smiled at the coloring that had been started. Did their amateur childish work bother the artist in Arden?
He continued into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to watch her. She didn’t know initially that he was there. Her back was to him and he enjoyed the view while he could.
Long tanned legs moved back and forth as if she danced to a secret melody, her hips swaying seductively. Her hands chopped vegetables, moving quickly. He hoped she didn’t cut herself. Her blond hair was pulled back, the ponytail swaying with her movements.
The memory of their kiss swept through him, making him forget everything else but the thought of doing it again.
Which was probably the best way he knew of scaring her away. He needed her for his children, not for himself.
“I take it you’re the one I have to thank for the new artwork on my bedroom wall?” he said.
She spun around, knife flashing in the light.
“Oh, you startled me.”
She studied him warily for a minute, then relaxed.
“Yes. Do you like the pictures? I thought the walls needed some more color, and what better source?”
“I never considered myself a connoisseur of modern art, but I guess I can learn.”
She laughed, and he felt a sense of well-being sweep through him. He liked her laughter.
“Not so modern as merely childish. Avery especially likes to mix all the colors until she gets a muddy greenish-black.”
“I noticed. And they seem to be everywhere.”
Arden nodded. “But we rotate them. They paint at the rate of about one per minute sometimes, so we needed to establish a plan. Otherwise, the walls would be plastered from floor to ceiling with paintings.”
He liked the we in her statement. It showed she was relating to the girls. That was good.
“If my unexpected arrival throws off your schedule, I can eat out.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m making stir-fry. I’ll just cut up more veggies and we’ll stretch the chicken. You must be tired. I bet you can’t wait to go to bed.”
Her words startled him. For the first time since Lannie died, Brendan thought about taking someone else to bed–Arden Glover.
The image shocked him. He wasn’t interested in getting close to anyone again. Losing his wife had caused too much pain to ever risk such heartache again.
He had his business, his children. His life was complete.
But he wasn’t sure his body realized that. It suddenly seemed to have a life of its own and insisted he pay attention to the demands it made.
He wanted Arden.
“I suppose you want to talk about it,” she said, turning back to the vegetables.
Talk about wanting her? Talk about taking her to bed? Were his thoughts so obvious?
“The way I’ve altered the schedule you had for the girls,” she said when he didn’t speak.
Brendan leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. Mentally, he breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he thought she could read minds.
“How much have you altered?”
“Quite a bit, I’m afraid. I, uh, am not much into regimentation.”
“Neither am I, but children like routine. Lannie said.”
“I’d never contradict what your wife said. However, Hailey was younger than Avery is now when she died. As children grow and change, they need new boundaries and new routines. And to be allowed to explore and discover the world. What worked for a two-year-old won’t work for a child almost ready to start kindergarten.”
It made sense. But Brendan scarcely gave it the attention it deserved. He was startled to discover talking about Lannie didn’t cause the searing pain it once did.