Chapter 9

CHAPTERNINE

Paige settledagainst the pillows she’d stacked behind her in bed. She couldn’t help the ridiculous grin that formed whenever she peeked over at the stuffed panda sitting in the place of honor on the nightstand. Watching Tanner and Whitney bond over an arcade game did all kinds of things to Paige’s insides. Father and daughter were both beginning to relax in each other’s company.

Whitney was sweet, well-mannered and smart. There wasn’t anything for Tanner not to love about her. Even if he didn’t find Whitney’s mom by Sunday, the pair would be okay together.

Paige, on the other hand, might not be. She was growing ridiculously attached to the little girl. And maybe just a little attached to the girl’s father. Which would be an epic mistake, she reminded herself. Tanner Gillette was not the type of guy women should fall for. Sure, he was doing right by his illegitimate daughter, but she was likely the only female a guy like him could commit to. It was a good thing Paige was no longer interested in having a man in her life, then.

Still, she’d felt the weight of his stare all through dinner at the pizza place. And there was definitely heat in his gaze when he confronted them outside the pool earlier today. Her nerve endings began to dance just recalling the way he gave her body the once over.

“A fling with Tanner Gillette is out of the question, too,” she reminded those body parts that tended to have a mind of their own.

She snatched up one of the beach-reads she’d brought from home. The well-worn paperback was one of her “comfort” books. Part of a Victorian era romance series featuring a group of wallflowers trying to find love. The familiar words kept swimming on the page, however, before Paige finally slammed it closed.

“There’s more to life than finding a man, sister,” Paige mumbled. Sighing heavily, she smacked her head against the pillows. “Yet another thing Jon ruined for me. Romance novels.”

She was about to reach for the TV remote when a sound from Whitney’s room caught her attention. Flipping back the covers, she listened intently for it to come again.

“It was probably something outside,” she told herself.

Except it wasn’t. Whitney was crying out in her sleep. And it sounded like she was calling for her mother. Paige raced through the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom. Whitney was tossing and turning as sobs wracked her small body. As sweet as it was to finally hear the girl’s voice, Paige was devastated by her cries.

“Shh.” Paige crawled into the bed, gathering Whitney up beside her. “Shh,” she repeated. “Everything is going to be okay. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Whitney’s gulping sobs eventually subsided. She curled against Paige, remarkably, still fast asleep. Paige rubbed the girl’s back, softly whispering reassurances. She wiped Whitney’s tear-stained cheeks with the sheet. Within minutes, the child was sleeping peacefully.

A noise in the doorway alerted Paige they were not alone. She looked up to see a shadow of a man illuminated by the hallway lights. After resettling Gladys in Whitney’s arms, Paige replaced her own body with a pillow. She waited a moment to make sure Whitney was settled before slipping out into the hallway where Tanner waited.

A shirtless Tanner.

“She okay?” he whispered.

Paige picked a spot beyond his muscled shoulder where she could fix her gaze to avoid openly drooling at the man.

“Mmhmm,” she answered with a nod.

He took a step closer. “Are you okay?”

She wanted to be blasé and mature, but she wasn’t that skilled at playing it cool. The man’s chest was a freaking work of art. And who knew golfers had six-pack abs? Weren’t they supposed to be pot-bellied or some damn thing? It was the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his flannel joggers that sent her over the edge.

“Could you—” She wiggled her fingers in the direction of his chest. “Could you cover that up, please?”

He looked at her as though she’d just asked him to shoot a hole-in-one on the moon. Then he chuckled sadistically before turning on his heel and padding down the long hallway leading to his bedroom.

“Water.” Paige fanned herself. “I need some water.”

Hurrying to the kitchen, she filled a glass using the dispenser on the refrigerator door. She was gulping down its contents when Tanner reappeared. Thankfully, he was wearing a T-shirt with what looked like German writing on it. A pair of sheepskin moccasins covered his feet.

“I’ve got something stronger in my study,” he said when he walked past, presumably on his way there.

A smarter woman would have returned to her bed and listened for signs Whitney might be having another nightmare.

“She usually settles down after the first episode,” he called back to her, seemingly reading her mind.

“You mean this isn’t the first time?” Paige followed him into the study.

A small lamp illuminated his desk. Tanner clicked a switch and the museum lights inside the built-ins bathed the room in a soft glow. The landscape lights from outside cast cozy shadows on the walls.

“Nearly every night since she’s been here,” he said as he poured liquor from a bottle into two glasses.

“Really? You knew she could talk, and you didn’t tell me?”

He rolled his eyes at her when he handed her a glass. “You’re too smart not to have figured out Whitney’s mutism was caused by trauma.”

Paige tried not to preen at the knowledge Tanner thought she was smart. But damn, his praise was good for her flagging ego. She tucked her legs beneath her as she settled into the corner of the suede sofa.

“It was just a shock hearing her voice, I guess. It’s pretty. Like the rest of her.” She took a sip from the glass.

“Mmm.” Tanner leaned his hips against the desk.

A comfortable silence settled in the room as they both sipped their drinks.

And then Tanner ruined it.

“What’s the story with you and your dad?”

Paige bristled. “There is no story between me and my dad.”

“I gathered as much. Why?”

Paige studied the shadow of a tree branch dancing on the wall. That area of her life wasn’t a secret. There was no harm in answering his question. She drew in a breath.

“He’s never been a part of my life.” She shrugged. “Even when my parents were married, he was deployed most of the time.”

“How long were they married?”

“Long enough to know they weren’t suited.” She took another fortifying sip. “My mom grew up on a farm in the middle of Iowa. The same place I grew up, actually. She couldn’t wait to get out of there. When my aunt told her about a job opening at a military base in Cedar Rapids, she jumped at the chance.”

“Cedar Rapids being a busy metropolis and all that,” he teased.

“It’s all relative when you grow up in a small town. Anyway, within the first year, she’d met my dad and gotten pregnant. By all accounts there was a shotgun wedding and voilà, here I am. My dad deployed shortly after I was born. My grandmother passed away suddenly, so my mom returned to the farm to help my grandfather. I don’t think my parents lived together for more than a couple of months.”

“I can’t picture Lamar not playing a role in your life, though.”

Paige pulled at a string of a blanket draped over the back of the sofa. “He always made an effort, but it’s hard when you only see someone two weeks every year. Most of the time he was deployed in areas that weren’t safe for dependents. And when he wasn’t, well, my mom is kind of nutty about my safety.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t say?”

She snorted. “You can’t be too careful with kids.”

“So I’m learning.”

“I always felt like I was holding my mom back.” The words slipped past her lips before she could stop them. She’d never admitted that to anyone else before.

“How?” Tanner asked quietly, almost as if he knew they were wandering into uncharted territory.

Paige rested her head back against the cushion. “All she ever wanted was to be free of our little farm. To have some big, glamorous life. And then I came along and messed everything up. Don’t get me wrong, she’s never come out and said the words. But I’ve always sensed them.” She stared at the amber liquid in her glass as if it held all the answers. “I’m sure my father regrets my existence, too.”

“Your dad is an honorable man. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who has regrets. And the way his face lights up when he sees you doesn’t look like regret to anyone looking on.”

Something squeezed in the vicinity of Paige’s chest. The booze, the mood-lighting and Tanner’s kind words were all casting a spell on her. She needed to get back to her room before she did something she would regret.

Paige downed the rest of her whiskey in one gulp, letting it punish the back of her throat before getting to her feet. “It’s a little late for psychoanalysis this deep. I’m going to get some sleep. Whitney is an early riser.”

She was walking over to the bar behind the desk to return the glass when she stepped on something sharp.

“Ow!”

Tanner swore violently. “Don’t take another step. There’s glass on the floor over there.”

Paige froze while he turned on all the lights in the room. He wheeled his desk chair up next to the back of her legs, its wheels crunching over the shards of glass on the tile floor as it moved.

“Sit,” he ordered.

She didn’t argue, immediately lifting her foot to check for blood.

“Give me that.” Tanner wrapped his fingers around her ankle and suddenly it wasn’t the pain of the cut making her breathing unsteady.

He was crouched down before her tenderly examining her heel with the pads of his fingers. How was it that this man’s touch on her foot could be so sensual? A breathy moan escaped her lips before she could stop it.

His chin shot up. “Does that hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s fine really. I’ll just go rinse it out and put a bandage on it.”

His grip tightened. He bent the arm of the desk lamp so it was shining on her foot.

“I don’t see any glass stuck in there.” He grabbed a tissue from a nearby box. “Press this firmly to the cut until I get back.”

“I can take care of it my—”

“Do. Not. Move.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m not going to sue you over a cut,” she said to his back.

Tanner murmured something unintelligible before leaving the room.

Paige slumped back in the chair. With all the lights on, she could study the photos behind his desk. She picked up a frame containing a picture of two adorable twin boys giggling together on a baby blanket. After setting it back in its place, she spied a photo of what had to be Tanner’s parents. He had his father’s build and his mother’s eyes.

There was an empty spot on the credenza where it looked like a frame should have been. Was that why there was glass on the floor? Had a photo fallen and broke? She leaned under the desk to check. Sure enough, a silver frame lay face down. Paige picked it up to find another photo of twin boys. In this one, the boys were older—maybe tweens? And they looked exactly how she pictured Tanner looking as a boy.

He hustled back into the room, stopping abruptly when he saw what she had in her hands. Then he was slamming the box of bandages onto the desk. He dropped to his knees again and grabbed for her foot. Something about his demeanor told her not to go there, but Paige was never one for ignoring her curiosity.

A trait that often left a mark.

“You’re a twin?” It was more statement of fact than question because she held the answer in her hands.

He dabbed antiseptic on the cut a bit too aggressively. “Was.”

“Was?”

His eyes locked with hers. “Yes, Paige. I was a twin.”

The heavy silence that descended wasn’t as comfortable as it was moments ago. Why, oh why, didn’t she listen when her brain told her to shut up?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Tanner ripped open a bandage. “Why do people always say that? It’s not like you had anything to do with his death.”

“I’m sorry that his death hurt you.”

Her words seemed to catch him off guard. His fingers stilled for a long heartbeat before resuming their first-aid. His touch was much gentler as he smoothed the bandage tenderly over her foot. “It’s been a year and a half. It hurts a little less every day.”

“The twins in the other picture? They look a little like you.”

Tanner rocked back on his heels. “They’re Tristan’s. They were born six weeks after his death.”

The enormity of what he revealed made her stomach clench. Paige’s brothers were only her stepbrothers, but she could only imagine the pain of losing one of them. Losing a twin would probably feel like losing a body part. She covered Tanner’s hand where it rested next to her on the arm of the desk chair.

“That had to be awful for you.”

His eyes softened. He nodded.

“How? How did you lose him?”

Tanner sighed heavily. “Helicopter crash. We were both in San Francisco—me for a tournament and him for work. We were supposed to meet for dinner, but I got delayed on the Pebble Beach course due to weather.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Fog rolled in grounding flights throughout the region. Tristan was anxious to get home to his wife, Melinda, who was seven months pregnant with the boys. She had just been put on bed rest. I had a chopper lined up to take me to San Diego after our dinner, but I wasn’t making the pilot fly until the fog lifted.” He turned his head to stare out into the shadows on the screen porch. “Somehow, Tristan found out I had a copter reserved. He pretended to be me and demanded they make the flight. From San Diego, he could get a flight back to Phoenix easily. The pilot was flying blind, but he couldn’t clear the Berkeley Hills. None of them made it.”

He got to his feet and pushed her in the chair toward the door.

“That’s . . . tragic. For everyone.” Paige felt bad for leading him down such an emotional path. “I always wondered if twins really did switch identities,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Did you two do that often?”

“I never did,” he said. “And Tristan stopped doing it when we left boarding school.”

Paige snorted. “Obviously not.”

Tanner stopped the chair so suddenly that he almost dumped her on the floor.

“I hope you’re better at driving a golf cart,” she teased.

But Tanner wasn’t laughing. Instead, he unleashed a tirade of violent obscenities before storming back toward his bedroom.

What had she done? What had she said?

“Tanner?”

But he didn’t answer. The only sound she heard was the slamming of his door.

Paige remained where she was, perched in his chair in the doorway of his study, for several minutes. She should apologize. As usual, she’d gone too far. It didn’t matter that she had no idea what she’d said to set him off. Grief came with many triggers.

Forcing herself out of the chair, she hurried back to her room to slip on a pair of flip-flops. She only made it as far as the kitchen, however, before she realized Tanner Gillette’s happiness wasn’t her concern. She was Whitney’s nanny.

For only six more days.

After that, she’d be back in Chicago with her own ridiculous problems to deal with. Comforting a sexy jock wasn’t in her “single forever” rehabilitation plan. She was sure Tanner had an entire contact list of women he could turn to for that.

Trudging to the laundry room, she retrieved the vacuum. She’d just clean up the mess in Tanner’s study before someone else got hurt. Not that vacuuming was in her job description, but it was a whole lot safer than being around Tanner Gillette.