Chapter Four

Ian and Harry were playing with a wooden train set when Will came home that evening. He watched them from the family room doorway, still amazed to find himself the father of four-year-old twins. The boys had blown into his life like a tropical storm, and the three of them were still sorting through the emotional debris. But for the moment, his sons looked happy. Hiring Gina had certainly helped.

He studied her as she sat on the floor beside the boys. Despite her oversized clothing and cinched-back hair, he found her strangely appealing. A powerful attraction had surged between them this morning, stirring something primal within him. Something that could not happen again. She was his sons’ nanny and completely off-limits.

She turned as he moved into the room, feeling like an intruder. “Hi, everyone.”

“Hi,” Gina said. But she didn’t smile. Harry glanced up at him, but said nothing, as did Ian. The threesome returned their attention to the train, and disappointment speared through Will. Nobody looked glad to see him.

He headed for the den, not all that glad to be home himself. The usual nightly battle awaited him, getting the boys fed, bathed, and tucked into bed. All so he could retire to his den and work on bids and blueprints long into the night.

Seated at his desk, he opened a folder of computer-aided drawings for a kitchen remodel. Before the Vandenburg diamond theft, his college football fame had landed him frequent contracts among Seattle’s well-to-do. Now, with his reputation tarnished, he was forced to work smaller jobs—and more of them. Money was tight, and he could lose everything in the Vandenburg lawsuit.

Hearing footsteps, he glanced up to see Gina standing in the doorway. “I need to speak with you.”

He gestured toward a chair. “Come sit.”

Her frown suggested she might still be mad at him for what had happened this morning. Taking off his shirt and touching her cheek had been inappropriate and out of character for him. He’d apologized and thought they’d resolved the incident. But maybe not. Was she going to quit?

She sank into the green upholstered chair where he’d interviewed her last week. “I’d like to know more about the boys.”

He sat at the desk opposite her. “Like what?”

“Why does Ian wet the bed every night? Is it a medical problem or a sign that he’s troubled?”

He leaned back in his creaky chair. The last thing he wanted was to share his family’s painful past. “It’s something we’re working on.”

“I’m also curious why Harry challenges authority so frequently. Has he always been that way?”

“The boys have gone through tough times,” he conceded, “and you’re right to assume it’s affecting their current behavior. But I’m reluctant to share the details. The past can’t be changed. We can only deal with the present.”

He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. “Which is where you fit in. The boys like you, Gina. Let’s build on that.”

She began tapping her index finger on her elbow. “I was hoping you’d tell me more.”

“I can tell you the boys have been happier since you came. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and things will be fine.”

Thinking he’d put the matter to rest, he looked down at the sketches on his desk and frowned at the pantry dimensions. Those measurements couldn’t be right. He reached for his laptop then glanced up, realizing Gina had not moved. “Was there something else?”

Her mouth quirked. “The boys have told me some disturbing things.”

He stilled. “Disturbing things?”

“Yes. They think their mother is still alive and searching for them.”

“The boys said that?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Have you talked to them about her?”

“Of course. I talked to them extensively when they first came to live here. I thought they understood.” Initially, there’d been tears and angry denials.

“They also told me you’re not their real dad.”

He rubbed his forehead, not wanting to hear any more. He was clueless about kids. His ex-wife had called him a drudge—all work and no fun. Apparently, she’d been right. His sons didn’t mind him or like him. According to Gina, they rejected him as their father, as well. Glancing up, he realized she was speaking to him.

“…constant defiance and nightly bedwetting are signs of a troubled child.”

Gina sounded like she was lecturing a child psychology class, and he didn’t want to hear about his failings as a father. “You’re the nanny, and you know about kids,” he said. “You handle it.”

She gasped. “You’re the dad. I go home at five o’clock.”

“The boys miss their mother, but I can’t bring her back.” He paused. “Last Friday, when I came home and found you and the boys asleep, I sensed the strong connection between the three of you.” For one foolish moment, he’d longed to be a part of it, too.

He flattened his hands on the desk. “A caring nanny is the best I can do for my boys. Your warmth and your expertise—that’s what they need.”

“They need you, too,” she protested. “Do you spend much time with them in the evenings?”

“No, not much. I have work to do every night.”

“What do you play?”

“Play?” He gave a strangled laugh. There could be no play with his sons in constant rebellion.

“Do you read them bedtime stories? Or play hide-and-seek?”

He shifted uneasily in his chair. If she was trying to make him feel like a rotten dad, she was much too late. “The boys play on their own,” he said. “I make sure they eat dinner, take a bath, and brush their teeth. That takes hours, and it’s an uphill fight.”

“If you think they’re tough now, wait until they’re teenagers.”

The prospect sent chills down his spine. “I’m doing the best I can.”

Her frown said his best was not good enough. “You’re not making my job easier.”

“Just keep up the good work. That’s all we can do.”

She stood and walked stiffly from the room. Watching her go, he wondered if he was about to lose another nanny, a surprisingly good one. The boys would be disappointed this time. He would be, too.

…

“Gentle hands,” Gina warned as Harry patted soil into his plastic flowerpot. He and Ian were planting orange seeds from today’s lunch. Ian spooned dirt into his pots with care. Harry worked faster and with a heavy hand.

“We’ll water them every day with a spray bottle,” she said, “and watch for green sprouts. It will take a few days before we see anything.”

“That long?” Harry asked.

“Important things take time.”

They carried the pots upstairs and set them carefully on the windowsill. Then Gina told the boys to lie down on their beds. “I’ll read you a story, and then you can take a nap.”

“We don’t take naps,” Harry informed her.

“Then lie down and rest your eyes.”

“Two stories,” Harry said.

“Deal.” She read them Corduroy and It Looked Like Spilt Milk, books they had selected last Friday at the library. The boys were yawning when she finished and seemed content to “rest their eyes.” She tiptoed from the room, sure they’d be dozing shortly.

She went straight to Will’s den, anxious to finish her search there. The file cabinets were locked, and she found no key. She checked the walls for a hidden safe behind a painting, like in the movies. Again, no luck. Returning to the desk, she opened the top right drawer. Behind the bank statements she’d already scanned, she found a letter from an insurance company.

A faint sound came from the foyer. She stilled, listening, but heard nothing more. All houses creaked. Reassured, she slipped the insurance letter out of its envelope and tried to decipher the legalese. The gist of it was that the Vanderburg’s claim against Will’s company for the missing diamonds exceeded the coverage provided by his professional liability insurance. He would have to make up the difference out of his own pocket.

She gasped at the six-figure dollar amount of the claim. Will was in big trouble. What irony, to have framed her brother for stealing the diamonds, only to find himself held accountable for their loss. She doubted he could come up with that much money. Hope blossomed within her. He would have to come up with the diamonds instead.

Glad she was on scene to look out for Kyle’s interests, she went upstairs to check on the boys. They looked so sweet when they were asleep. She crept into the room to cover them with the tattered blue blankets they’d probably slept with since they were babies. She left the door to their room ajar and moved on to Will’s.

Pausing in the doorway, she surveyed the room. The king-size bed to her right had a desert-motif comforter with sunbursts and hawks in soft oranges and browns. Beyond the bed, curtains of the same material framed a window looking out at the backyard.

A clear skylight was centered over the bed, and she wondered what Will thought when he looked up at the stars. Was he awed by the wonders of the universe? Did he think about his life? His children? The innocent man he’d sent to prison?

Moving farther into the room, she caught the woodsy scent of his cologne, the one she liked too much. Frowning, she focused on her surroundings. Directly ahead on the outside wall stood an oak chest of drawers, the usual spot for family photos. There were none there, nor anywhere else in the house. It seemed strange not to see a wall of photos somewhere, showing the boys as they grew from babies.

Crossing to the nightstand nearest the window, she sat on the bed. The top drawer contained loose change, a large flashlight, a heating pad—nothing out of the ordinary. The bottom drawer held much the same. Hearing another sound, she froze and heard the wind stirring the backyard cedars. Breathing out slowly, she closed the bottom drawer. Sleuthing made her nervous.

Hurry, so you don’t get caught in this room. She moved quickly to the other side of the bed. This table had only one drawer, as the bottom part was a bookshelf filled with mysteries—some of her favorites.

Opening the top drawer, she found keys, two full rings of them and several loose ones. Bypassing the obvious ones for cars and doors, she eyed them one by one, searching for a key to unlock the filing cabinet in the den. No luck. About to close the drawer, she spotted a distinctive single key that might go to a safe-deposit box. Inspecting it carefully, she found “R753” inscribed on the blade. Her hand tightened around it. Was this a key to the missing jewels?

Footsteps came suddenly from the top of the stairs, the heavy tread of an adult approaching. Fast!

Her heart racing, she shot off the bed and quickly smoothed wrinkles from the spread. Turning to the doorway, she stilled as Will strode into the room, loosening his tie. He stopped short at the sight of her, his brows lifting in surprise.

Her grip tightened on the safe-deposit box key she held behind her back. The open drawer of the bedside table was directly behind her. She edged sideways to block it from Will’s view.

He moved closer. “Looking for something?”

“I…was looking for a flashlight. The boys wanted to check for spiders under their beds.”

“The boys are asleep.”

“Yes. Well, I’ve been looking for a long time.” Her throat tightened as she waited for him to call her bluff. Instead, he turned and rounded the foot of the bed to walk up the other side. She stepped back to ease the drawer behind her shut with the back of her legs. Will didn’t seem to notice as he opened the top drawer of the other nightstand and pulled out the large yellow flashlight she’d noticed earlier.

Retracing his steps, he faced her once more. “The boys each have a pocket flashlight in the drawer between their beds,” he said. “I’m surprised they forgot they were there.”

“They wanted a really big one.”

“I see.” When he held out the flashlight, she took it with her left hand, still clutching the key in her right. “Thanks.”

“Gina, we need to talk.”

Her heart sank. He wasn’t buying her story. She tucked the key in her skirt pocket and followed him from the room. When he paused in the doorway of the boys’ room, she stopped alongside him. Harry and Ian lay sprawled on their beds, arms and legs flung out, looking vulnerable and endearing. Did Will see them that way, too?

He spoke softly. “We’ll talk in the den.”

She set the flashlight on the boys’ bookshelf then followed him downstairs, braced for a lecture. Or worse. “Come into my parlor,” said the spider to the fly.

Will sat behind his desk and gestured for her to sit, as well. As she watched, he leaned forward and stared down at his hands. “This is hard for me, but it needs to be done.”

“I’m sorry I was in your room,” she interjected. “We observed bugs today, and Harry was convinced he’d find several under his bed.”

An out-and-out lie that could come back and bite her once the boys awoke. But she couldn’t let Will fire her just when she’d discovered a possible trail to the missing diamonds. Her hand tightened around the safe-deposit box key in her pocket as Will pushed out of his chair and walked to the French doors to stare out at the yard.

Was being caught in his bedroom a firing offense?

A moment passed before he spoke. “I was shocked by what you told me yesterday.”

Yesterday? What is he talking about?

Hands in his pockets, he faced her. “I was sure the boys understood about their mother. I’d explained it all thoroughly many times.”

She breathed out slowly with relief.

“But when I talked to them last night, I discovered you were right. The boys do believe their mother is coming to rescue them. And I’m not their real dad. I’m just some guy who stole them.”

It surprised her to hear the hurt in his words. Will seemed to care very much what his boys thought of him.

“I’ve got a problem here, Gina, and I need your help.”

She shifted uneasily. “I don’t understand.”

“I want you to help me get through to the boys. If that means sharing our family’s painful past, so be it. You were right about needing to know how things got screwed up.”

He paced back to his desk and sat. “Six months ago, I didn’t even know Ian and Harry existed.”

She frowned. “How could that be?”

“Five years ago, my wife left me for another man. A former lover she’d quarreled with shortly before we met.”

Will’s painful past wasn’t what she needed to hear. “I didn’t mean—”

He spoke over her. “My wife was the daughter of a rich client who wanted a guest cottage built behind his house. Felice was poolside every day, all fun and flirty in her bikini. We married in a rush, a wedding chapel in Las Vegas. Then came home to discover we were strangers.”

“You really don’t have to—”

He cut her off again. “Felice liked to entertain. I had a business to run. We had nothing in common, outside the bedroom. We fought from day one.”

Way too much information. She stood resolutely. “This isn’t what I meant. I need to hear about the boys.”

He leaned forward, his mouth tight. “I wouldn’t share this if I didn’t think it necessary. But to understand the boys, you need to know what came before.”

She sat back down, resigned to hear him out.

“Things were bad by the time my wife’s former fiancé returned. Felice ran off with him to his New Jersey mansion and divorced me. Once the papers were signed, I never heard from her again. That suited me fine.”

She heard no regret. “Where do the boys come in?”

Will picked up a pencil and rolled it between his fingers. “Six months ago, I got a call from Felice’s mother-in-law. She told me that her son and Felice were both killed in a private-plane crash.”

She gasped. “Oh no.”

“When I expressed my condolences, the woman informed me Felice and her husband had left behind twin four-year-old boys. My sons, she claimed. I was stunned and, naturally, didn’t believe her.”

Dropping the pencil, he leaned back in his squeaky chair. “She insisted I come to New Jersey to take them home with me. Since I was their biological father, they were now my responsibility.”

His mouth tightened. “I was sure she was trying to unload Felice’s unwanted offspring on me, and I refused. But she kept calling, and her attorney sent me letters, until I finally agreed to DNA testing. Results take time, so I went to her home to put an end to her claim once and for all.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Then, I saw the boys. One look, and I knew they were mine.”

She nodded. Ian and Harry were pint-sized images of Will. “It must have been a shock.”

He snorted. “An incredible one. I was furious that Felice had kept them from me and tried to pass them off as her second husband’s. He knew better, of course, and had nothing to do with them. It hurt the boys to be rejected by the man they thought was their dad.”

“Was Felice a good mom?”

He shrugged. “She loved the boys, but she was a child herself. Too busy doing her own thing to spend much time with them. They were left with nannies and friends. It’s no wonder they have issues.”

Her grip tightened on the arms of her chair. Every child needed love and attention, and it angered her to hear of a parent who didn’t give it. Parents like hers. Slamming the door on that old hurt, she focused on Will. He wasn’t the uncaring father she’d thought him. Staring down at the floor, she told herself it didn’t matter. He was still the man who’d betrayed her brother, and her first loyalty was to Kyle.

Glancing up, she found Will eyeing her closely. “Now that you know more about Harry and Ian, what do you suggest I do?”

“Do?” He couldn’t be asking her for advice.

He nodded. “How can I get my sons to accept me as their dad?”

She held up her hands in protest. “I’m not into counseling.”

“But you’re good with the boys. I’m sure you could give me some good advice.”

She eyed him with horror. This was surely a joke, a bizarre twist of fate she’d incurred by pretending to be a child expert.

“You look stunned,” he said. “Not surprising. I’ve given you quite a challenge.”

If you only knew. Arms crossed, she rocked forward. This couldn’t get worse. The man she’d plotted to send to prison wanted to entrust her with the welfare of his children. Abruptly, she stood, and the room swayed. “I’ll have to think about this.”

“Of course.” Will circled the desk and put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right? You look a bit wobbly.”

“I’m fine.” She pulled free of his touch and rushed to the door, anxious to escape this disturbing new side of him. His wife’s betrayal, his sons’ misery, his desperate plea for her help were all jammed inside her head and making her dizzy. Could she balance her loyalty to her brother with her responsibility to Will and his boys? Things had been so much simpler when she’d thought him heartless.