Page 41 of Baby Nanny

To love, honor and cherish…

Annalise tilted her head to one side and a wealth of curls tumbled across her shoulder. “Tea?” she prompted again in open amusement.

“Thanks, I’d love some.” He crossed to her side and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”

He took a seat with Mayhem in his lap and tipped the dog onto his back. He rubbed the puppy’s plump belly with his index finger. With a wide yawn, Mayhem promptly went to sleep, his head, tail and legs splayed in six different directions.

He glared across the table at Mrs. Locke. “Have you finished interrogating my wife?” he asked.

He knew he sounded defensive, just like with his father. But this time he had cause. He had it figured out now. This woman wasn’t his niece’s nanny any more than she was his employee. Annalise was his wife , awoman who’d given herself to him in marriage. Given herself in every way possible. And he’d do everything within his power to protect her, to fulfill those vows he’d taken mere steps from where theysat.

“I just put away my thumbscrews,” she replied in a dry voice. “And now I have one final question before I go visit with Isabella.”

He regarded her warily. “Only one?”

“Just one.” She leaned forward and set her glass of tea onto the patio table. “I know why Annalise married you. But I’d like you to explain why you married your wife. Is this a love match or is this your clever way of circumventing CPS’s objections to your guardianship? Is Annalise here to stay, or here until we go away?”

And there it was, Jack acknowledged. The billion-dollar question.

Before he could reply, Sara stepped onto the patio. “Excuse me, Mr. Mason. There’s a gentleman here to see you. He was most insistent—”

Not waiting for either permission or invitation , atall, lean man in his late thirties, maybe early forties, strode out onto the patio. He carried himself with a military bearing and cropped, curly brown hair . Afaded cap shaded his deep-set eyes and cast a shadow across his sun-bronzed face. Though he didn’t share Annalise’s coloring and appeared far too young to have a daughter his wife’s age, there was little doubt in Jack’s mind that this had to be her father—and his timing couldn’t have been worse.

“I’m Robert Stefano,” he announced. “And I’m looking for…” He froze, his eyes arrowing in on Annalise. “Leese?”

“Daddy?” Annalise erupted from her chair and threw herself into the man’s arms. “Finally ! Ihave been trying to reach you for ages.”

He gave his daughter a fierce hug. “Didn’t you get my message?”

“About your charter? Yes, yes. Bub passed it on. But—”

He held her at arm’s length. “I came as soon as I heard the news. Of course, by the time it reached me, it was long out of date. What the hell have you gone and done?”

He looked over her shoulder toward Jack, who climbed to his feet and set the yawning puppy on the ground beside him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stefano,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Jack Mason.”

To Jack’s dismay, his father-in-law swept his daughter behind him in a protective manner. “Not him, Leese. Tell me there’s been a mistake and you haven’t actually married this man.”

“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Locke interrupted.

“No problem at all,” Jack replied smoothly. His hand dropped to his side. “You need to leave. Now. This is a family matter and none of your business.”

Of course, she didn’t listen. She settled more firmly into her chair. “If this affects Isabella, it most certainly is my business.”

“Mr. Stefano?” Jack approached the other man. “I’m Annalise’s husband.”

“I know who you are.” Robert tore off his cap and crushed it between callused hands. “What I don’t yet know is what sort of game you’re playing with my daughter.”

Annalise stepped out from behind her father, confronting the situation head-on, just as she had from the moment he’d first met her. “Dad, this isn’t a game.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t.” Grief tore into the older man’s face. “Does he know? Does this supposed husband of yours know the truth?”

To Jack’s surprise she faltered, her forthrightness stumbling. “No,” she admitted. “He doesn’t.”

Dread swept through him like the first winter breeze. “Somebody tell me what the hell is going on,” Jack demanded.

“And then you can explain it to me,” Mrs. Locke added.

---