Linda O. Johnston - Special Agent Nanny

When he was exhausted, he dragged his aching body up and forced it onto the tattered green sofa. The place smelled of cleaning products, but they failed to mask that the previous tenant had been a heavy smoker.

Shawn unbuttoned his shirt, feeling slightly strange without the shoulder and ankle holsters he wore on his other ICU assignments. Working with kids meant carrying no firearms, which was okay. Likely, the only danger he might face on this mission was the arsonist lighting up again. Improbable, given the suspected motive. Hospital records could only burn once.

He picked up the cool soft drink can he had left on the end table. As he took a swig of cold, sweet cola, he wished it was a beer.

“Well, damn,” he said to the stark white walls. The television news was on mute. He let the blessed quiet and sense of solitude wash over him, a relief after being surrounded by screaming tots for what seemed forever. He liked it quiet. He liked to be alone.

Oh, the day had gone well enough. Though he was still sweating his cover—dealing with a bunch of rowdy preschoolers—he’d found a method that at least calmed them. Sort of. For a few minutes at a time, though unfortunately not all at once.

After learning to work with stubborn and skittish horses at the Royal Flush, and to use them for herding a few head of cattle at a time, he’d thought he had already gone beyond the call of duty to establish his cover.

Now this.

But damned if the kids didn’t like to draw cartoons. The talent he had thought he’d tucked away forever had come to his rescue again. And the kids were so cute and earnest about it that they’d unexpectedly made him smile.

Other than his short conversation with Louis Paxler, he’d hardly accomplished anything that day to further his investigation. Of course, he had to establish himself and his cover. Only then could he gain people’s confidence, get them to answer questions without suspecting why he was there.

But Shawn’s strong suit was not patience.

And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit that Kelley had turned him down when he’d invited her for coffee.

He’d known rejection. Hell, it had been part of his life, but he’d gotten over it. Still, figuring out Dr. Kelley Stanton and her relationship to the flu and the fire was his mission. That meant he needed to spend time with the lovely physician. Not exactly a hardship—though her presence had already caused part of his anatomy to grow hard.

He laughed derisively at himself. Shaking his head, Shawn reached for the phone on the end table beside the couch. He had to report in.

But before he lifted the receiver, the phone rang.

“Jameson,” he answered.

“You were supposed to call,” said Colleen Wellesley without preamble.

“I was just about to.” He put the soft drink can on the table and leaned forward, alert, ready to talk.

“Right. So how did it go? Did you learn anything?”

Shawn responded in a tone reminiscent of the kids’ chanting. “I didn’t blow my cover yet but didn’t learn much, either. Except for where the potty is.”

“Don’t get smart.”

“Who, me? I take it you’re still at the ranch.”

“Right, though I’ll be at the Denver office later in the week. Tell me about your day.”

He pictured his solemn, serious lady-boss pacing and holding a cordless phone to her cheek beneath the curve of her chin-length brown hair. She had to be in her bedroom or one of the secure rooms in the basement to be talking like this, for she wouldn’t want the foreman, Dex, or the Castillos to overhear.

“Okay, C., it’s like this,” he said. “I talked with the administrator, Paxler, and got a rundown of who’s who and what’s what, at least in his opinion.”

“So he’s still cooperating? Good, but is he helpful?”

“Yeah, a little too helpful—like he’s covering his butt and the hospital’s insurance by pointing fingers where he can.”

“Well, you’ll have to sort out what’s true and what’s butt-protecting. Is that all?”

“No. I’ve met Dr. Kelley Stanton and established a rapport of sorts with her daughter, so—”

“Really?” Colleen sounded incredulous.

“Why did you create this cover if you thought I couldn’t handle it?”

“Did I say that? I just expected it to take you longer to settle in. You’ll have to tell me all about your experience one of these days.”

“Right.” He would definitely not tell her how rattled he remained around a bunch of screaming munchkins. “Anyhow, now that I know the layout and have met some of the cast of characters, I’ve been working on a game plan. I should have more to report next time.”

“Fine, but don’t push so hard that you blow your cover. We need answers fast. Real fast. But we won’t get them if we have to start over.”

“Don’t worry,” he said firmly. “I’m in.”

AS USUAL, KELLEY hesitated the next morning at the entry to KidClub. Jenny was holding her hand tightly. Her thumb was in her mouth.

Inhaling deeply to steel herself for the scene to come, Kelley pushed open the door.

Shawn Jameson, tall and broad-shouldered, looking as confident as if he had always worked there, stood to the right of the entry. Maybe he just appeared confident because he was engrossed in conversation with Marge Ralston, who was obviously hanging on his every word.

A group of kids sat on floor mats in a far corner of the room. A TV on a stand had been wheeled in, and they were watching a public television children’s show.

At Kelley’s side, Jenny hesitated. Kelley felt her daughter’s grip tighten.

Shawn turned away from Marge and looked straight at Kelley as if he had been expecting her.

Which of course he was, as he expected all the kids’ parents. He wasn’t anticipating seeing her in particular.

Still, the way his lips curved slowly into a lazy but welcoming smile made her insides melt. She shook her head to bring herself back to reality.

He said something else to Marge that Kelley couldn’t hear. The facility’s head caregiver continued to gaze at him as if in rapt attention. Then he broke away from Marge and approached Kelley and Jenny.

“Good morning, Shawn,” Kelley said.

“Hi.” He wore no vest today. Instead he had on a navy blue shirt that enhanced the deep color of his eyes. He still looked like a handsome cowboy in his jeans and boots. “How are you both?”

“Fine, Shawn,” Jenny said softly.

“Good. Are we going to have fun today?”

“Can we draw an’mals?” Jenny’s voice quivered, and Kelley braced herself for her daughter’s next tearful farewell.

“Sure,” Shawn said.

To Kelley’s surprise, Jenny let go of her and held out her hand. After a slight hesitation Shawn took it and led her farther into the room. He met Kelley’s eyes over the child’s head.

No separation anxiety today? Kelley was so relieved that she felt her whole face brighten.

Shawn’s return smile was smug but brief. He looked toward Jenny. “You can choose the animals you’d like to work on,” he said. “And maybe one of these days your mama and I can talk about the animals, too.” He raised a light brown brow at Kelley, then turned his back and led Jenny from the room.

Kelley watched with bemusement and delight.

“Wow!” Marge joined her, grinning after the man and child as they walked into the adjoining playroom. “He’s something, isn’t he? Even Jenny is responding to him.”

“He’s something, all right,” Kelley agreed. “He…well, he doesn’t strike me as the typical day-care worker. Do you know his background?”

“Sure,” Marge replied. “He was in the military—army, I think. He got out after a couple of hitches and is now in college studying child psychology. He wants to work with kids, so he’s here earning a little money and learning about children on a school internship.”