Sheri WhiteFeather - The Danforths - Toby, Lea and Adam - Cowboy Crescendo / Steamy Savannah Nights / The Enemy's Daughter

“It’s not like I’m disowning them,” Toby protested. “I’m just following my own dream. They respect that and wish me well.”

He sounded so defensive that it made Heather wonder if he practiced that particular speech for the benefit of other family members or to convince himself. She wished she could somehow convey how lucky he was to have such a supportive family.

“I’m glad,” she told him. “Not all parents are as understanding as yours. It would break my heart to see either you or Dylan estranged from such good people.”

Toby gave her a long and searching look in response. He started to say something but seemed to think the better of it. Instead, he drew her attention to the fact that the plane had reached cruising altitude and suggested that she could relax now.

Heather was surprised that their conversation had so completely distracted her. Still, she was glad that Toby didn’t let go of her hand as her fear abated. Looking out the window at the clouds, she pondered the fact that life in the South seemed to proceed at a more leisurely pace than what she was used to. The weather didn’t necessitate that residents scurry from place to place in an attempt to escape the elements. That Toby deliberately chose to abandon the life of ease into which he’d been born mirrored Heather’s own inclination to take a road less traveled. As beautiful as she found Georgia, the harsh climate of Wyoming suited her better. The weather there reflected her tendency to run alternately hot and cold on issues of the heart. Both extremes were potentially dangerous.

Only time would tell whether fire or ice would dominate.

Nine

Away from the glamour of Savannah and his family’s resolve to marry him off, Toby Danforth was convinced he would be better able to resist Heather’s allure. After all, few social events in Wyoming would require anything as glitzy as the dress she wore for his uncle’s fund-raiser. Not that he would ever be able to get the vision of her in that slinky gown out of his head.

Or the memory of her lips upon his.

Toby was counting on the physical demands and grueling routine of ranch work to settle his libido so that he could do what was in the best interest of his son—and his pretty nanny. Namely, to leave her the hell alone. The last thing Heather needed interfering with Dylan’s progress was him ogling her every time she turned around. The last thing Toby needed was for Heather to pack her bags in indignation and leave him in the lurch.

Deciding that his best course of action was to simply forget the impulsive kiss they shared beneath a shower of fireworks, he did not follow up on the conversation he’d initiated on the way to the airport. It was time for Toby to reestablish a professional working relationship with Heather and put aside any romantic notions once and for all.

The only trouble with that plan was that it might be easier to wipe the faces off Mount Rushmore than to erase the memory of their kiss. Despite his best efforts, Toby doubted whether things would ever be the same between them again.

Relieved that Toby hadn’t decided to fire her, Heather did her best to cooperate with his unspoken plan. Back at the Double D, she went out of her way to avoid him as much as she could without being rude. First thing in the morning she fixed breakfast, which he wolfed down, and did not lay eyes on him again until the sun went down. Then he hurriedly ate the warmed-up leftovers from the dinner that she and Dylan had eaten at an earlier hour. Dylan hadn’t spoken another word since his breakthrough at the airfield, but he made his feelings known by casting wounded glances in his daddy’s direction whenever he stumbled in looking like he was single-handedly attempting to run a ten-thousand-acre ranch without the benefit of any of the hired hands on his payroll.

Secretly offended that Toby would go to such lengths to steer clear of her, Heather poured her energies into taking care of Dylan. Despite his continued reticence to speak, the boy was delightful to be around. His affinity for music matched Heather’s own at his age and gave them a common bond on which to base a genuine friendship. Although his father’s absence around the house left a void in Dylan’s life that no nanny could fill, Heather used the time alone well. She worked with him on expressing himself the best way he knew how—through his music.

Watching his progress was gratifying. Reclusive by nature, Heather lost herself in the vast beauty of the Double D and in the sticky hands of a boy who she feared was coming to love her as a mother. She knew it was a slippery slope that she was treading but didn’t know what to do about it. Heather could no more withhold her affection for the child than she could change the way her pulse skipped a beat whenever Toby was near. Just because they hadn’t spoken about their feelings didn’t make it any easier to deal with them.

In fact, it had the exact opposite effect.

Heather’s determination to put her passion aside was becoming harder with each passing day. Having turned her back on her music and not having any close friends nearby, she didn’t know how to deal with her complicated feelings. The joy Dylan derived from the melodies he produced on the keyboard took her back to a simpler time when she was able to express herself through her music. Unable to convey her own emotions, she did everything in her power to encourage Dylan to find his voice in his own way.

When she and Toby spoke, more often than not it was to argue over an adherence to the speech therapist’s stringent behavior-modification plan to make Dylan talk. Heather had only met the woman once, but that was enough for her to know she didn’t like her much. In her opinion, Miss Rillouso spent more of her time casting bedroom eyes in Toby’s direction than in actually working with Dylan. As far as Heather could tell, the most the therapist had been able to coax from Dylan with her overly detailed plans was a grunt or two, and that was on the promise of some sugary treat to follow.

“If you earn at least twenty stickers on the chart I’m leaving with your baby-sitter, I’ll bring you something special the next time I come back,” Miss Rillouso promised Dylan.

Dylan couldn’t have looked less bored with that proposition. Heather didn’t take umbrage with the belittling term Miss Rillouso used to put her in her place. She merely tossed the chart in the garbage the minute she left the premises. Toby was furious to discover her treachery.

“If you’re so sold on her stupid technique, you do it,” she challenged, handing him the sheet of stickers that went with the chart that Toby retrieved from the trash. “I refuse to waste my time bribing Dylan when it goes against everything I believe about raising healthy, well-adjusted children.”

When Toby politely pointed out that he was paying her to do whatever he asked in regard to his son’s treatment, Heather issued a dire warning of her own.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll create a monster out of that sweet little boy. A monster who won’t take the trash out for anything less than a dollar or won’t make good grades unless there’s a reward attached to his report card.”

Toby bristled. He’d seen too many children completely hooked on external incentives to disregard her counsel out of hand.

“Helen Rillouso is a professional who came highly recommended,” he protested. If nothing else, the outrageous amount he paid her to drop by the ranch every other week to work with Dylan attested to that reputation.

“I beg you to let him find his own voice in his own way,” Heather countered.

Toby couldn’t argue that her gentle approach seemed far more effective with his son than anything he’d tried in the past. Dylan seemed happier with each passing day. Still, Toby was a man who could afford to couch his bets. Even though Dylan was making progress under Heather’s tutelage, he saw no reason to discontinue the program that Helen Rillouso had so painstakingly set up.