Page 40 of Baby Nanny

He narrowed his eyes at her phrasing. She narrowed hers right back at him. He had no idea how the stalemate might have ended if it hadn’t been for Isabella charging toward him with a shriek. Her fingers fluttered in a gesture she used to alert them to a problem with the puppies. Then she yanked on his suitcoat.

He turned to Mrs. Locke. “You’ll have to leave. We have an emergency on our hands. That takes precedence over everything else.”

She stiffened and yanked out a cell phone from the purse tucked beneath her arm with impressive speed. “Shall I call 9-1-1?” she asked crisply.

“That won’t be necessary. It’s a—” he hesitated “—dog emergency.”

Mrs. Locke’s brows climbed skyward. “A dog emergency is not an emergency I recognize,” she informed him in a wintry tone. “The inspection will continue.”

Isabella yanked harder at his suit coat and he rested his hand on her head in gentle reassurance. Damn it to hell. Why now, of all days? He regarded Mrs. Locke with a sour expression and gave her two options. “In that case, you may wait here until I’m available, or grace us with your presence at a more convenient time.”

“I’ll stay,” she stated in tones as implacable as hisown.

“Jack? Red alert. The puppies are on the loose.” Annalise charged into the hallway and skidded to a halt. “Oh, we have guests.”

Jack grimaced. This grew more complicated by the minute. He’d wanted time to prep Annalise before the two women met. “Mrs. Locke is not a guest. She’s here for an inspection.”

“Mrs. Locke?” To his disgust a broad, welcoming smile swept across his wife’s face. “Isabella’s Mrs. Locke?”

The caseworker inclined her head. “And I assume you’re Mrs. Mason?”

“Oh, please. Call me Annalise.” She held out her hand. “I’m afraid we have a bit of a family emergency going on here.”

“So , Iunderstand. Something to do with dogs?”

Isabella made a frantic noise and Jack interrupted. “Which we need to take care of immediately. Annalise, ask Sara and Brett to scour the first floor. I’ll take the bedrooms. You and Isabella see if anyone’s found their way to the third level. Since this isn’t a scheduled appointment, Mrs. Locke can return at a more convenient time.”

His beautiful, sexy, loyal wife fluttered her lashes at him and turned traitor in the blink of an eye. “I’ll give Sara and Brett the heads-up while you and Isabella check the bedrooms. Mrs. Locke and I will be having some iced tea out on the patio. Once everyone’s rounded up, you can join us there.”

“Excellent suggestion,” Mrs. Locked concurred. “I wanted some private time with your wife, anyway.”

“I— You—”

Annalise smiled in satisfaction. “It’s a plan. I’ll call your office and warn them you’re running behind.” She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and hit a preprogrammed button. “Mary, it’s Annalise. Jack’s going to be late again. What? Oh, yes, of course. The pups on their usual rampage. Expect him when you see him.”

Isabella didn’t give him an opportunity to argue further. Grabbing his hand, she literally towed him in the direction of the steps. The last view he had of his double-crossing wife was her saucy backside vanishing in the direction of the kitchen, accompanied by the smirking Wicked Witch, her broomstick slung over one shoulder.

This was not good. Not good at all. He’d planned to be there the first time Annalise and Locke spoke, to run interference in case they hit any snags. Based on the smug look the caseworker shot him, she’d known it and took great delight in outmaneuvering him. Not that she’d actually been the one to make mincemeat of his plan. He could lay that delightful screwup squarely on hiswife.

It took thirty nerve-racking minutes to round up five of the mischievous puppies and return them to the gated bedroom that doubled as their “nest.” Isabella remained with them while he went in search of the last one, the runt of the litter. He foundMister Mayhem, as he’d begun to refer to the dog, on the verge of sneaking out the kitchen door. He scooped up the wriggling bundle of energy before the pup could make good his escape.

From the direction of the patio, he caught the distinctive sound of feminine laughter. He stood there, literally frozen in disbelief. That couldn’t possibly be Mrs. Locke laughing. Not the witch herself. He had no idea how Annalise managed to charm the woman, but he could only thank God it had happened. Then he immediately shook hishead.

He did know how his wife had pulled it off. He’d watched her do it with him and Isabella, and every other person she met. She had a knack about her , anatural charm. No, even that didn’t describe it adequately. She welcomed people in. Even though she’d been hurt, she hadn’t allowed past events to close her down the way he had. She continued to open herself to others, even though she might get hurt again. The vulnerability remained, reflected in those magnificent eyes of hers. But she gave of herself, anyway.

The laughter had faded and he heard Mrs. Locke say, “So, tell me the truth, Annalise. Why did you marry your husband?”

Jack didn’t think he could have moved if Doomsday itself were unfolding at his feet. Everything within him strained to hear the answer. But when it came, it was spoken so softly he couldn’t catch the words he longed tohear.

He erupted from the kitchen onto the patio, the pup still cradled in his hands. He didn’t know what he’d hoped, perhaps to discover Annalise’s response still lingering on the summer breeze. Maybe to read it in her expression or glittering like gold dust in her eyes. Instead, her head swiveled in his direction and she simply smiled. Just that . Asmile that made his heart standstill and left him more helpless and out of control than he’d ever been in his entirelife.

“I assume that’s the last straggler? Mayhem?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you’ve dubbed him?”

“Mister Mayhem,” he muttered.

“Would you like a glass of sweetened tea?”

The prosaic question ripped him to shreds. It took every ounce of willpower to hold himself in check, when what he wanted more than anything was to tip Locke out of his patio chair and chuck her onto the street so he could demand his wife repeat to him whatever she’d told the caseworker. He wanted—needed—to hear why she’d married him. To know once and for all whether she’d done it just for Isabella or if maybe, just maybe, she’d believed those vows she’d spoken right here in his backyard.

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