Maybe Jims concern for her was more about not wanting to lose his new job almost as soon as hed gotten started. But something in his voice suggested his worry for her was more personal than pragmatic.
And while her head said there was something not quite right about his instant preoccupation with the danger she was in, she couldnt quell the sense of relief she felt knowing there was someone who cared if she lived or died, whatever his motivation might be.
The lights shed seen moved closer, and she reached to open the lobby door as they slowed in front of the building.
Until she realized the lights belonged to a familiar blue pickup truck.
She froze, her breath caught in her throat.
She must have made some sort of noise, for Jims voice rose on the other end of the line. Whats happening?
The blue pickup truck is in front of my building, she answered, slowly retreating from the door until her back flattened against the wall.
Is it stopping?
The pickup slowed almost to a halt, then began to move again, moving out of sight. Lacey released a soft hiss of breath. No. It almost did, then it drove on.
Lacey, you cant go meet your friend out there tonight. You need to get in your car and come home. Jims tone rang with authority, reminding her that hed spent a lot of years in the Marine Corps. She could almost picture him in fatigues, his hair cut high and tight, his voice barking instructions in the same dont mess with me tone he was using now. Call him and cancel.
She wanted to argue, but he was right. Whatever Ken Calvert wanted to tell her could wait for another night. Okay. Ill call him right now. Ill call you back when Im on the road.
She hung up and dialed the cab company first, canceling the cab. I have an account, she told the dispatcher when he balked at canceling the cab when it was nearly to her apartment. Bill me for it.
Then she phoned Ken Calvert on her way back to the elevators. After four rings, his voice mail picked up.
Ken, its Lacey. I cant make it tonight. Call me tomorrow and well reschedule. She hung up the phone and entered the elevator, trying to calm her rattling nerves.
The walk from the elevator to the Impala was a nightmare, as she found herself spooked by the normal noises of cooling engines and the muted traffic sounds from outside the garage. She didnt start to relax until she was safely back on the road out of town.
Settling her phone in the hands-free cradle, she called Jim. Im on my way home.
Stay on the line, he said.
Im feeling like an idiot right about now, she admitted. Jumping at shadows.
Youre being safe, he corrected her firmly. Its not like the danger isnt real, right?
Can we talk about something else? she asked, trying to control a sudden case of the shivers. She turned the heat up to high, wishing shed donned one of the heavy coats shed packed before she got behind the wheel of the car.
Sure. I could read to you. After all, I know where to find a copy of Goodnight Moon.
Thatll put me to sleep. She didnt know if it was the blast of heat coming from the vents or Jim Mercers warm, comforting voice doing the job, but the shivers had already begun to subside. In their place, a creeping lethargy was starting to take hold, making her limbs feel heavy. Dont you have any salty tales from your time in the military? Tell me one.
He told her several, with the seductive cadence and natural delivery of a born storyteller. Katie was going to love him, Lacey thought. Her little niece was a sucker for a well-told story.
The drive home seemed to pass in no time, unmarred by any further sightings of the blue pickup. As she drove through the tiny town of Cherry Grove, the snow that had been threatening all day finally started to fall, first in a mixture with tiny pebbles of sleet, then as fat, wet clumps as she turned into the long driveway to the farmhouse. Im here, she said into the phone.
I know. See you in a minute. Jim hung up the phone.
The outside lights were on, casting brightness across the gravel drive. The front door opened as she walked around to the Impalas trunk to retrieve her suitcase. By the time she hauled it out, Jim Mercer stood beside her, tall and broad shouldered, a wall of heat in the frigid night air.
He took the suitcase from her numb fingers. You okay? he asked.
Im fine, she answered, almost believing it.
He followed her inside, waiting next to her while she engaged the dead bolt on the front door. I heated up the potpie. I thought you might be hungry.
She was, she realized. Starving.
He set the suitcase on the floor in the living room and led her into the kitchen, where a warm, savory aroma set her stomach rumbling. Its not much, he warned. Canned vegetables, canned chicken and canned cream-of-mushroom soup.
Beats ramen. She shot him a quick grin as he waved her into one of the seats at the kitchen table and retrieved a plate of casserole from the microwave. It was warm and surprisingly tasty for something straight out of a can. Not bad.
Im glad youre home safe, Jim said. The warmth in his voice and the intense focus of his gaze sent a ripple of pleasure skating along her spine. She quelled the sensation with ruthless determination.
He was Katies nanny. Nothing more.
Why dont you try to relax? he suggested when she started to carry her empty plate to the dishwasher. Ill clean up.
Thats not your job, you know The ring of her cell phone interrupted. With a grimace, she checked the number, frowning at the display. It had a DC area code, but there was no name attached. She briefly considered letting it go to voice mail before curiosity made her pick up. Hello?
Lacey Miles? the voice on the other end asked. It was a male voice, deep and no-nonsense.
This is Lacey, she answered, troubled by something she heard in the mans voice.
This is Detective Miller with the Metropolitan Police Department. Did you place a phone call to a Ken Calvert earlier this evening, telling him you couldnt meet him?
She tightened her grip on the phone and dropped into the chair shed just vacated. Jim paused on his way to the sink, turning to give her a worried look. How did you know that? she asked Detective Miller.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. We found the message on Mr. Calverts phone. I regret to inform you that Mr. Calvert died earlier tonight.
WANTED: NANNY
MUST BE GOOD WITH WET WIPES AND GUNS.
Lacey Miles becomes the unexpected sole guardian of her young niece. Knee-deep into an investigation of a sleeper cell, Lacey finds that motherhood is a lot more perilous than she expected, so she hires a nanny with an impeccable résuméwhos a far cry from Mary Poppins.
Beneath his friendly demeanor, Jim Mercer is a former Marine turned undercover agent, tasked with ferreting out the terrorists targeting Lacey and her loved ones. Jim may be the ultimate caretaker, but the closer Lacey comes to blowing her case open, the more Jims true identity is revealed. And the deeper he falls for this vulnerable little family.
Campbell Cove Academy
Lacey Miles stared at Jim a moment, her only reaction a slight narrowing of her eyes.
Ms. Taylor said you had specified that you had no issues with hiring a male caretaker.
I dont, she said bluntly in a tone that suggested just the opposite.
You seem as if youve been blindsided.
Her lips curved in a faint, perfunctory smile. I guess I have been, in a way. I didnt have a chance to look over your credentials or even get your name. I just wasnt expecting a man.
Oh.
Im in a hurry to make a hire, you see, she added quickly, as if she realized what shed just admitted made her sound ill prepared. In fact, youre the first person whos even applied for the job.
He was pretty sure he knew why. The story about the car bomb meant for her, the one that had killed her sister and brother-in-law instead, had made the national news. There werent a lot of wannabe nannies willing to walk into a situation like that. Which made him the perfect person for the job.
Operation Nanny
Paula Graves
www.millsandboon.co.uk
PAULA GRAVES, an Alabama native, wrote her first book at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When shes not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. Paula invites readers to visit her website, paulagraves.com.
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
SIGN ME UP!
Or simply visit
signup.millsandboon.co.uk
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
For my nieces, Sarah, Kathryn, Melissa and Ashlee,
and my nephew, Nathan. Most of you arent old enough
to read my books, but maybe youll look them up in a
few years, see this dedication and smile.
Contents
Cover
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
The blue pickup truck was in her rearview mirror again. It had been there, off and on, since shortly after shed crossed the Potomac into Maryland. Of course, many vehiclesnot just the pickuphad shared the road into Frederick with her, many of them staying behind her for miles at a time before turning off.
Maybe that was the problem, Lacey thought. The pickup had never turned off.
A soft whine from the backseat drew her attention away from the rearview mirror. She dared the quickest glance at the child seat belted in behind the passenger seat, reassuring herself that Katie was just being fussy. Her nieces bright gray eyes stared back at Lacey, reminding her so much of Marianne that she had to suck in her breath against a sharp stab of grief.
Almost there, sweet pea, she said as brightly as she could manage. They were only a few minutes out of Frederick now, and early for the appointment for once.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. She couldnt see the pickup anymore.
Frowning, she looked forward, her gaze drawn to the green directional sign coming up fast on her right, informing her of an upcoming exit. It was a couple of exits before the one shed planned to take, but the prickling skin on the back of her neck made the decision for her.
She moved to the exit lane as quickly as she could and took the off-ramp. As she came to a stop at the bottom of the off-ramp, she spotted the blue pickup driving past her, continuing on the highway.