Wendy Warren - Undercover Nanny

Snapping her phone shut, D.J. slumped against the wall. Bill had always been such a rock. Now he wasn’t even trying to save the agency he’d spent thirty-some years building, and she couldn’t predict his actions at all.

Bill simply hadn’t recovered from the loss of Eileen; that had to be the problem, and it was up to D.J. to help. Like her, he had no one else. Bucking up her resolve, she knew she wouldn’t let Bill or the business down.

“Hey, there you are.” Max rounded the corner with one twin hanging on his leg, another hanging upside down in his arms. Anabel and Liv brought up the rear. “The boys need to use the john. Will you watch the girls?” Anabel’s wary expression said she wasn’t at all certain D.J. was up to this task.

“I got a bathing suit,” Livie announced gaily. “It’s brand-new, and it gots beautiful flowers. I’ll show you.”

D.J. smiled. It was nearly impossible to hang on to tension when the winsome four-year-old blinked those blue eyes up at her. She wondered if Terry had been a devoted mother. The kids’ basic happy natures and Max’s love for his late cousin suggested that she’d done a good job with the kids.

“Did you get a bathing suit, too, Anabel?” D.J. asked the preteen, hoping to receive at least a brief answering smile.

The girl pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I don’t need one. Uncle Max has a lot of extra mouths to feed now, and my bathing suit still fits.”

Geez, Louise. D.J. glanced at Max, who rolled his eyes.

“You’re very thoughtful, Anabel,” D.J. commended. And way more grown-up than you should be. Anabel too easily assumed a parental role, which made D.J. wonder if she should amend her estimation of Terry. D.J. had been like that, too, as a kid. She’d figured out early on that she’d have to rely on herself. Did Anabel feel the same? D.J. made a mental note to get more concrete information about Max’s cousin as soon as she could.

Max interrupted her thoughts. “Now that Livie’s got a new swimsuit, when we come out, we can get one for you.”

It took D.J. a moment to realize he was addressing her and not Anabel. “Oh, you know, about that—”

James squealed as Max dipped him toward the ground. This time D.J. was sure it was James. She’d realized she could distinguish between the twins if she remembered that James’s hair was curlier.

Max swung the little boy like a pendulum, making him chortle. D.J. grinned. For a flash, she wondered what might have happened if she and Max had really truly met in a bar, no hidden agenda involved, with her in a red dress and him seeing her from twenty feet away and sending her a drink. On the house.

“So, you’ll watch the girls while the fellas and I are taking care of business?”

D.J. nodded. “Sure. I’ll be here.”

Max gave her a lingering look that sent about a thousand butterflies swirling through her stomach. “I’m counting on it.”

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