Page 12 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

Except he wasn’t.

A woman might get lost in the depths of his amber-tinted eyes.

His lighter-brown hair was a little on the shaggy side. The kind of hair a woman might run her hands through.

Flipping onto her back, she flung her arm over her eyes. Ugh, she was having inappropriate thoughts about her new nanny.

Maybe if they’d met under different circumstances… Except…what? She’d still be who she was.

Untouchable.

He’d reached out to steady her, and she congratulated herself for not pulling away. A man had touched her and she hadn’t flinched.

Progress.

There’d been a time when she wouldn’t have been able to tolerate even that touch.

Soft, gentle, compassionate eyes.

What did he see when he looked at her?

She’d never know because she’d never ask.

“Mommy!”

She launched from her bed. If she could reach Calleigh quickly enough, she might be able to prevent a full-blown meltdown. If she was too late, they’d be up for hours.

Guided by the nightlight, she sat on Calleigh’s bed, pulling the child into her arms.

The little girl struggled. “I want my mommy. I want my daddy.”

Remy stroked her sister’s hair and murmured in her ear, rocking her back and forth. “I know you want them, sweetheart. I know you miss them. I miss them too.”

Fighting back her tears, she ruthlessly tamped down her own grief. She wished she could break down and cry, but she was the adult. She had to be the strong one.

Soon, Calleigh settled. Slowly, she ceased fretting. Finally, she began to breathe deeply.

When she tried to extricate herself, Calleigh’s grasp tightened.Well, crap.Placing a pillow behind her head, Remy hoped she wouldn’t wake with a crick in her neck.

Chapter four

Amuch-harriedRemydroppedCalleigh off the next morning. The clock read eight, and if Rusty hadn’t reminded her, she would’ve driven off with his SUV—car seats and all.

He doubted she’d slept last night. She’d dressed professionally, without a hair out of place, but stress radiated from her in waves. The pain in her eyes made his stomach clench.

Lovely blue eyes.

The same color as the pair now looking up at him. Except where Calleigh was blonde, her older sister had dark-brown hair. Speaking of Calleigh, she’d been silent during breakfast and now stared at him as he set up the television. He tried not use the TV as a babysitter, but he believed in Sesame Street once a day.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. He opened the door to greet a grinning young man.

“Mr. Stevens?”

“Rusty, please. You must be Tristan. Come in.”

In the main room, he pointed to the couch. “My daughter Mira and her friend Calleigh.”

Tristan waved to the girls. Only Mira waved back.

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