tall, elegant body, that difficult-to-read but so interesting face—all of it, together with the rather mind-blowing, sexy force you sensed in him, had slammed into her consciousness during their second encounter in the green room. And that moment when she’d almost believed he’d been as captivated by her…
How could she believe it now, though? How was it possible for any woman to compete with Cathy Spencer even if theirs was a love-hate relationship? And not only that, she was the mother of his son…
She came back to the present from all these disturbing thoughts as the door to the inner sanctum clicked open and Max Goodwin stood in the doorway with a boy by his side.
Alex’s lips parted. You couldn’t doubt whose son this was, the same dark, dark hair, the same dense blue eyes. He was also quite tall for a six-year-old. He wore corduroy navy trousers, a blue sweater and in one hand he carried a backpack. In his other hand he held a lead that was attached to a bundle of grey with black points—a Blue Heeler puppy, probably three or four months old. It pricked its ears, advanced towards Alex and barked.
‘Nemo,’ the boy said, ‘don’t. It’s not polite.’
So this was Nemo, Alex thought, with an inward gurgle of laughter. A lively bundle of pure mischief, no doubt. No wonder Margaret had looked so apprehensive last night.
She stood up and put her head to one side. ‘How do you do, Nemo?’ she said down to the dog. ‘I must say you don’t look at all like a clown fish to me.’ She bent down to pat the puppy and was rewarded with several enthusiastic licks that made her laugh and tell the boy she thought his dog was lovely.
‘He never did look like a clown fish,’ the boy confided. ‘I just wanted him to have a different kind of name. How do you do?’ he added. ‘I’m Nicholas. Are you my new nanny?’
Alex’s eyes flew to Max Goodwin. He hadn’t said a word, just absorbed the little play of boy, dog and Alex, but now he stirred.
‘No, Nicky,’ he said. ‘This is my interpreter. I told you about the lunch today?’ The boy nodded. ‘Well, she’s driving down with us. This is Alex.’
Margaret came out from behind her desk carrying a padded dog basket. ‘I got this, Mr Goodwin. For Nemo. In the car. It’s also waterproof just in case…’ She stopped and shrugged.
Max Goodwin, who looked, Alex suddenly detected, a bit less vital than usual, shuddered slightly.
‘So where is my new nanny?’ Nicky enquired.
‘Well, for the time being we have a housekeeper down at the house and she’s happy to look after you. Jake will also be there—remember Jake from last night?’
‘Yes,’ Nicky said tonelessly and he blinked several times, then he said in a high, tight little voice. ‘Did my mummy say when she would be coming back?’
‘As soon as possible, Nicky,’ Max said. ‘I—’
But the boy interrupted him. ‘Couldn’t you please be my nanny, Alex? At least you like my dog and he likes you.’ A single tear stole down his cheek. There was silence and as Alex straightened slowly she found her thoughts on the subject of mothers who did this to their children to be highly uncharitable.
‘Nicky,’ she said quietly, and slipped her hand into the boy’s, ‘I would love to, but I have another job to do, you see, so—’
‘We could—merge jobs,’ Max said. ‘You do have three days off from tomorrow,’ he reminded her. ‘Anything on that you can’t cancel?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘Would it be impossible to spend three days at Sovereign Island with Nicky? It’s very pleasant down there.’
Alex shook her head rather helplessly and opened her mouth, but Max Goodwin looked at his watch. ‘Then we just have time to stop off at your place, Alex, so you could pack a bag.’ He turned to Nicky. ‘She won’t be able to be with you all the time, but quite a bit. How’s that?’
‘Brilliant!’ Nicky carolled and Nemo barked in joyful agreement. Alex stood
How could she believe it now, though? How was it possible for any woman to compete with Cathy Spencer even if theirs was a love-hate relationship? And not only that, she was the mother of his son…
She came back to the present from all these disturbing thoughts as the door to the inner sanctum clicked open and Max Goodwin stood in the doorway with a boy by his side.
Alex’s lips parted. You couldn’t doubt whose son this was, the same dark, dark hair, the same dense blue eyes. He was also quite tall for a six-year-old. He wore corduroy navy trousers, a blue sweater and in one hand he carried a backpack. In his other hand he held a lead that was attached to a bundle of grey with black points—a Blue Heeler puppy, probably three or four months old. It pricked its ears, advanced towards Alex and barked.
‘Nemo,’ the boy said, ‘don’t. It’s not polite.’
So this was Nemo, Alex thought, with an inward gurgle of laughter. A lively bundle of pure mischief, no doubt. No wonder Margaret had looked so apprehensive last night.
She stood up and put her head to one side. ‘How do you do, Nemo?’ she said down to the dog. ‘I must say you don’t look at all like a clown fish to me.’ She bent down to pat the puppy and was rewarded with several enthusiastic licks that made her laugh and tell the boy she thought his dog was lovely.
‘He never did look like a clown fish,’ the boy confided. ‘I just wanted him to have a different kind of name. How do you do?’ he added. ‘I’m Nicholas. Are you my new nanny?’
Alex’s eyes flew to Max Goodwin. He hadn’t said a word, just absorbed the little play of boy, dog and Alex, but now he stirred.
‘No, Nicky,’ he said. ‘This is my interpreter. I told you about the lunch today?’ The boy nodded. ‘Well, she’s driving down with us. This is Alex.’
Margaret came out from behind her desk carrying a padded dog basket. ‘I got this, Mr Goodwin. For Nemo. In the car. It’s also waterproof just in case…’ She stopped and shrugged.
Max Goodwin, who looked, Alex suddenly detected, a bit less vital than usual, shuddered slightly.
‘So where is my new nanny?’ Nicky enquired.
‘Well, for the time being we have a housekeeper down at the house and she’s happy to look after you. Jake will also be there—remember Jake from last night?’
‘Yes,’ Nicky said tonelessly and he blinked several times, then he said in a high, tight little voice. ‘Did my mummy say when she would be coming back?’
‘As soon as possible, Nicky,’ Max said. ‘I—’
But the boy interrupted him. ‘Couldn’t you please be my nanny, Alex? At least you like my dog and he likes you.’ A single tear stole down his cheek. There was silence and as Alex straightened slowly she found her thoughts on the subject of mothers who did this to their children to be highly uncharitable.
‘Nicky,’ she said quietly, and slipped her hand into the boy’s, ‘I would love to, but I have another job to do, you see, so—’
‘We could—merge jobs,’ Max said. ‘You do have three days off from tomorrow,’ he reminded her. ‘Anything on that you can’t cancel?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘Would it be impossible to spend three days at Sovereign Island with Nicky? It’s very pleasant down there.’
Alex shook her head rather helplessly and opened her mouth, but Max Goodwin looked at his watch. ‘Then we just have time to stop off at your place, Alex, so you could pack a bag.’ He turned to Nicky. ‘She won’t be able to be with you all the time, but quite a bit. How’s that?’
‘Brilliant!’ Nicky carolled and Nemo barked in joyful agreement. Alex stood
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