Crystal Green - The Texas Billionaire's Bride / The Texas Bodyguard's Proposal - The Texas Billionaire's Bride

Melanie wanted to despise him, but then night would come, when the wind thumped branches against the old house, when the moon shined through her window and lulled her to close her eyes and imagine how it had felt to touch him when she shook his hand.

How the contact had shaken her to the core.

And morning would arrive again, and she’d go right back to thinking about what to do about him and Livie.

Today, as the June sun spilled through the attic window, Livie had decided to celebrate summer—and her leaving kindergarten behind—with an impromptu performance for some of the house staff. Accordingly, the audience of two sat on the quilts spread over the floor in front of a makeshift blanket curtain that Livie and Melanie had constructed.

The little girl was behind it now, while Mrs. Howe and Cook waited.

Cook, who was in his chef’s whites, crossed his legs Indian-style and grinned at Melanie, who was just in front of the curtain, ready to open it. His name was Scott, and from that first week forward, he’d encouraged Melanie to call him that.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Howe sat in a ladylike position, her knees to the side, her pale skirt covering her legs. Her name was Sue, but when Melanie had dared use it one time, she’d gotten a raised eyebrow and hadn’t tried it since.

“Is it almost showtime?” Melanie asked Livie.

“Five minutes!” the girl said from behind the curtain.

“Okay.” Melanie smiled at the audience, then walked toward them, sitting on the edge of the quilt while making sure her sundress skirt was in place. “Last-minute rehearsals behind that curtain, I imagine,” she whispered. “Livie’s nervous.”

Scott shrugged, but he was so mellow that Melanie often suspected life was one big “oh, well” for him, anyway.

“It’s her first show,” he said. “The squirt can take her time to give us the premiere.”

Mrs. Howe sighed at the nickname “squirt.” She sighed a lot about Cook’s surfer-in-Texas attitude.

Melanie grinned at Scott. “I guess that’s the beauty of summer—no school to work a schedule around.”

“But,” Mrs. Howe said, “a schedule’s still important.”

During the past weeks, Melanie and the manager had experienced some…philosophical differences…about many things, although Mrs. Howe hadn’t tipped off Zane Foley to the new nanny’s slight adjustments. At least, that’s what Melanie suspected, because her boss hadn’t rung her up yet to give her a talking to or fire her.

“You’re right,” Melanie said, “schedule’s are important, and we still have one. Livie does well with them, so it seemed counterproductive to change her way of life midstream. But there’s room for flexibility when it’s warranted.”

Scott playfully made the sign of the cross, like he was extending Mrs. Howe some help in fighting off Melanie’s words.

“Mrs. Howe,” he said, “would lose her mind without lists and charts and diagrams. Them’s fightin’ words, Mel.”

The manager made a dismissive gesture at him, as if that would cause him to disappear, but she had an air of barely restrained amusement just the same. Melanie had decided that Scott was like Mrs. Howe’s little brother, and their relationship was one long drive in a backseat where they get on each other’s nerves.

Nothing romantic, though, Melanie thought. Mrs. Howe had a husband down the hill in their own cottage, and Scott had mentioned something to Melanie once about a serious girlfriend.

Livie’s voice came from behind the curtain. “Almost ready!”

“Okay,” all the adults answered back.

Scott kept looking toward the performance area, but now there was something pensive about him.

Melanie leaned near so her voice wouldn’t have to carry. “What is it?”

He started to talk, then stopped, shrugged and smiled vaguely.

Melanie knew if she waited long enough he would go on.

And he did.

“It’s nice to see her like this,” he said. “I don’t know exactly what you’re doing, Mel, but I can’t imagine Livie ever wanting to give any kind of performance before you came along.”

Melanie blushed, knowing she was no miracle-worker.

Whispering, she said, “Livie’s giving her performance in an attic, so it’s not as if this is some grand coming out for her.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Howe said, “but it is.”

For the first time, Melanie saw a pleased openness about the other woman, and that took her aback.

Melanie glanced away from the others and their approval; she wasn’t willing to accept credit for anything, because there was still such a long way to go. There were even times when Livie would sit quietly staring out the window, and Melanie feared that no one would ever be able to get in. And there were the days when Livie could be so stubborn that it stretched Melanie’s supply of patience to the breaking point.

Those were the moments when she could see why the other nannies had walked away. However, Melanie had come to the realization that it hadn’t been Livie who’d driven the others away, so much as it’d been the hopelessness of the situation itself. Maybe it even broke their hearts to be so strict with the child.

The difference was that Melanie vowed to never give up.

“At any rate,” Scott said, getting her attention again, “you’re a real find, Mel. Mrs. H. agrees with me, too.”

The manager hmphed. “I wasn’t sure at first.”

“You came around quick enough from the opinion you used to have.” Scott made his voice higher, imitating Mrs. Howe. “‘Mr. Foley has no idea how to pick ’em, does he? Set a pretty face in front of him, and he’s sold.’”

“Cook,” Mrs. Howe admonished.

“That’s what you said,” Scott added, that little-brother mischief in his eyes.

But Melanie was barely paying mind to that.

Pretty?

Zane Foley had only called her “spirited” on the phone to his brother, but did the employees at Tall Oaks know something else?

And… Wait.

Had the other nannies caught Zane Foley’s eye?

A spear of jealousy stabbed her, and she scolded herself. Ridiculous to even be thinking it. Or to believe he’d hired her because she was slightly above average.

Still, she’d been spending so much time tuning in to any and all clues from the staff about the distant Mr. Foley that she all but vibrated now with this tidbit from Scott. No one but Monty had really talked about their boss—or the subject of Danielle—so she was much too open to any leaked detail.

“Ready!” Livie finally called out.

Melanie stood and went to the boom box by the curtain. She selected the Enya song Livie wanted to dance to and pulled back the material to reveal the little girl, who was dressed in a pink leotard and ballet slippers that Zane Foley had sent the second day of Melanie’s tenure.

Mrs. Howe and Scott applauded, but as the synthesized strings began to play, the child just stood there, staring at them.

“Livie?” Melanie stage-whispered.

The child fixed her doe eyes on her nanny, as if forgetting everything Melanie had taught her about any of the dances they’d tried so far. They hadn’t even come up with a routine for this performance, because Melanie had just encouraged her to do whatever the song inspired at any given moment, whether it was ballet or contemporary or even a few tap moves.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

Maybe Livie did need that firmer structure she was so used to. Maybe she couldn’t depend on anything else.

Heart contracting, Melanie took the girl’s hands and began to dance with her. Livie reacted immediately, still looking into her nanny’s eyes as if nothing else existed, and laughing as she imitated everything Melanie did.