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Friend. Nanny. Stand-In Bride.

When a man needs the

touches only a woman can provide…

he turns to Wife, Inc.

Please Let The New Nanny Be Some Dowdy Grandma Type Who Can Really Help Us,

Bryce thought, opening the door.

Her back to him, at first all he saw was a nicely rounded behind tucked inside jeans, a white blouse and a brown leather vest. And chestnut-brown hair pulled up in a ponytail. Not exactly grandma, he thought.

Then the woman turned, and staring him in the face was the one woman, the only woman, who’d rocked his world and set it on fire. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m from Wife, Incorporated.” Her brows knitted slightly. “Weren’t you expecting me?”

“I was expecting someone, certainly not you.”

“Life is full of little surprises, huh?”

He wanted to call Wife, Incorporated, and ask for someone less…beautiful and exotic. But he needed help now. Besides, he could handle this. He wasn’t going to get involved with the nanny, no matter who she was….

Dear Reader,

Summer vacation is simply a state of mind…so create your dream getaway by reading six new love stories from Silhouette Desire!

Begin your romantic holiday with A Cowboy’s Pursuit by Anne McAllister. This MAN OF THE MONTH title is the author’s 50th book and part of her CODE OF THE WEST miniseries. Then learn how a Connelly bachelor mixes business with pleasure in And the Winner Gets…Married! by Metsy Hingle, the sixth installment of our exciting DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS continuity series.

An unlikely couple swaps insults and passion in Maureen Child’s The Marine & the Debutante—the latest of her popular BACHELOR BATTALION books. And a night of passion ignites old flames in The Bachelor Takes a Wife by Jackie Merritt, the final offering in TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE LAST BACHELOR continuity series.

In Single Father Seeks… by Amy J. Fetzer, a businessman and his baby captivate a CIA agent working under cover as their nanny. And in Linda Conrad’s The Cowboy’s Baby Surprise, an amnesiac FBI agent finds an undreamed-of happily-ever-after when he’s reunited with his former partner and lover.

Read these passionate, powerful and provocative new Silhouette Desire romances and enjoy a sensuous summer vacation!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Single Father Seeks…
Amy J. Fetzer

AMY J. FETZER

was born in New England and raised all over the world. She uses her own experiences in creating the characters and settings for her novels. Married more than twenty years to a United States Marine and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book.

Dedicated with love to my son, Zackary Cain,

For your cartoon obsessions and wanting to explore and invent and draw. For likely being the only teenager who does what he’s told when he’s told and doing it well. For having big dreams and a natural kindness that only angels possess. You, my son, have made me grow as a person and understand why a mother would gladly lay down her life for her child.

I love you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Prologue

Hong Kong

He was Secret Service. She was CIA. He wasn’t hiding that fact.

She was.

But right now they weren’t hiding a thing from each other. A desire, no, a raging passion she’d never imagined existed inside her, was taking complete command. Ciara loved every second of it. And from the look on his face as she shoved open his trousers, so did he.

She drove her hand inside the dark fabric and he groaned and pushed her against the nearest wall, taking her mouth with an excitement so powerful, so hot, it would burn out of control in no time. She was counting on it. She had wanted him the minute she saw him. She wanted to be wild and escape and spend this one night with him. He was head-turning handsome with a hard body, and that sexy to-die-for look of a secret agent. Coal-black hair, Nordic blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw she wanted to kiss ’til dawn. Add to that a gentlemanly southern drawl, slightly disguised, and she was melting for him with the first word.

Behind them in the hotel room lay a trail of clothes—black, inconspicuous. Just what their jobs called for. But the situation now called for none. Naked. Ciara was nearly there. He wasn’t getting there soon enough.

He ground against her, letting her know he was ready for whatever she had in mind, and she pushed his trousers lower and cupped the tight curve of his buttocks, pulling him into her and sending the same message.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he said, his voice whiskey rough as his mouth rolled over her throat, her shoulder. He made quick work of her slip, adding it to the trail with her dress.

“No more than you are me.”

He unclasped her bra, pulling it off, tossing it aside, then filling his palms with her breasts.

Ciara gasped, then gasped again as his thumbs circled her nipples deeply. Oh mercy, his touch was all she needed to explode.

“The instant I saw you, I thought about this.”

She smiled. “Did you imagine this?” she asked, then slicked her tongue over his nipple. He flinched and made a helpless sound she already loved.

“Yeah, I did.”

His knife-creased black slacks hit the floor, and she bent to help them all the way off. And when she stood, she scrubbed her hands over his corded thighs, his trim bare hips. He was built like a wall of muscle, twisted, ropy, delicious to touch and she could tell that he liked watching her touch him. It made her burn for more. She wrapped her hand around his arousal and stroked him harder than he already was.

He couldn’t take it and suddenly he grabbed her against him, and growled, “My turn.” He knelt, peeling her panties down as he went and just the motion made her breathless. He laid wet, grinding kisses to every inch of skin he exposed, rolled her thigh-high stockings down like unrolling a piece of candy and he murmured, “I had a sneaky feeling you were wearing these.”

Just knowing she had, in a roomful of attachés and dignitaries and the former first lady, drove him wild. Now she was wearing only a strand of pearls.

“My, my, secret agent man. You were fantasizing a lot more than I thought,” she said, then howled when his mouth covered her soft center. He licked and played, probed and stroked until she was biting her lip to keep from screaming and bringing hotel security. For an instant, a sliver of time, she wondered about letting a complete stranger do this to her, then she didn’t care. He was all she’d imagined and more, and when he threw her leg over his shoulder and drove deeper, Ciara thought she’d come apart at the seams.

He chuckled darkly as she melted, her leg slipping limply off his shoulder as she sank down, sliding down the wall and straddling his thighs.

“There’s a bed a few feet away,” he said.

“Too far,” she gasped, rocking against his thickness.

He reached for his trousers, fumbled in the pocket, and she barely noticed because he never took his mouth from her. He bent her back over his arm, and then he was inside her, driving upward and clasping her against his wide chest.

“Oh, sweet heaven,” he groaned, cupping her bottom and giving her hips motion because he couldn’t stop it. Bryce pushed his fingers into her hair, loving the sounds she made, that she was as demanding as he, because he craved her. Craved. He’d never hungered for a woman from first sight, never had instant fantasies and instant arousal as he had with just looking at her. The moment he spotted her in that plain black dress, standing off to the side, he’d been preoccupied with her. Wondering what was under that simple dress, enjoying the shift of silk as she walked. Wondering what she looked like with her hair down instead of in that tight, reserved twist. He even liked the way she sipped champagne. And the way she looked at him, slow and possessive. As if she knew what he looked like naked, and she was in a hurry to see it firsthand. As if she knew one touch and they’d be unrestrained and reckless like this.

No one would have suspected. She had an innocence in her face, a cheerleader all-American scrubbed clean look, but a body like a movie star. All woman, ripe and curvy. Not skinny and flat. He loved it. And knew, even if she wasn’t rocking against him, that he held a real woman in his arms. A woman who enjoyed being a woman. And he wanted to do nothing but see pleasure on her beautiful face.

Bryce got down to the business of giving her exactly what she wanted and tasted every inch of her he could reach, stroked her, nipped and soothed and discovered the backs of her thighs were extremely sensitive. Then suddenly, they were over the top, thrashing against each other, rolling across the lush carpet. In the space of a few minutes they tried three positions, laughing as they contorted, then gasping when the friction was almost too much to bear, hurrying, taking only seconds for a thick kiss, and when he had her beneath him, vulnerable, he pushed into her with a measured deliberation that made her cry out and claw for him. She locked her legs around his hips and thrust and pulsed, touching him everywhere, and he held her off the floor, pushing and retreating, watching her pleasure ignite over her exquisite features. He would take that moment with him forever, he thought. Never had he been with a woman who was so confident in herself, in her sexuality, and it made him want her more. She gave as much as she took.

Then it came.

The heavy rush of heat and sensation, a tingling so intense it felt like needles on his spine. Like a throbbing wave about to crash. Suddenly she gripped his jaw and whispered, “Take me with you,” and he pushed, once, twice, and they reached for the stars together.

She cried out and bowed like a ribbon of womanly passion.

Time stopped. Soft moans and panting breaths filling the expensive hotel room. Moonlight spilled through the windows and coated them as his desire beat a throbbing pulse inside her, stretching as her feminine muscles flexed and pawed around him.

Bryce looked down at her, trembling with the power of their loving and she smiled up at him, pulling his weight onto her. She was barely sated, her foot sliding up his calf, his thigh, her hands stroking him, holding him as if she’d known him all her life and not just the past few hours.

With a hard sigh, he rolled to his side, tucking her close, yet before they could catch their breath, pagers went off, a cell phone rang.

He kissed her deeply. “Ignore them.”

“I can’t.” But she kissed him back anyway, then disentangled herself from him.

He rose up, reaching for her. “Where are you going?”

“I have to answer that.” She knew from experience that whoever was on the other end of that line would not give up. “Don’t want hotel security coming up and asking why we’re still making so much noise, right?”

He didn’t give a damn. He wanted her again.

But she was already going for the phone, gathering her clothes as she talked softly. She looked back at him, and he let his gaze roam her naked body, to the deep chestnut brown hair spilling down her back. Man, she was luscious. She smiled, returning the stare with equal intensity. He felt himself grow hard again. Then she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Bryce looked around at the debris of clothes, and started to reach for them, then gave up and fell onto the carpet.

He’d never done anything like that before. Never.

A total stranger. A siren in a little black dress and pearls.

Less than five minutes later she came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and pulling on the strappy little sandals that made him want to taste her ankles. She walked to him and stopped. He hadn’t moved. Good grief, he could still scarcely breathe.

“I have to go,” she said and her eyes were all business.

“Now?”

Her sudden smile was small and purely feminine. “Yeah. No strings remember?”

“And no names.”

She tipped her head to the side. “It’s better this way. You have an important job and I’d just be a complication.”

“Just who the hell are you?”

“An embassy secretary.”

“Liar.”

Her expression, one that had been so open with emotion minutes ago, slammed closed. Cold. Detached. And making him think that the woman standing before him now was a ghost of the passionate creature he’d held in his arms. He didn’t like it.

She tossed him his pager, and he caught it. “The first lady is calling you.”

He looked at the pager and wondered how she could tell from just a number. Or was that just an educated guess? Most Secret Service agents in a crowd didn’t look very secretive. When he looked up, she was lowering onto his lap, her arms wrapping his neck. Her mouth played over his with a heat that seared him again.

Now this was the woman he wanted to be with. “Can I interest you in another round, darlin’?” he said against her lips as his hands moved under the hem of her dress.

What a temptation, to discard her duties and have another romp with this hunk of man. But her partner needed her. “You could always interest me, secret agent man. But, I have to go.”

She stood, bent to kiss him once more, leaving her scent branded into his skin, and he lay there like an idiot and watched her walk out of his life. Forever. He knew it was forever. Excitement like that was once in a lifetime and neither of them, obviously had the time or the will to grab hold and keep it. Bryce had a feeling that the lady in black was just a dream and none of this was real.

One

Five years later

Beaufort, South Carolina

Ciara needed to hide. To go deep under.

In a spot not even the CIA would think to look.

The world was a big place. She could be anywhere, right?

And this small southern town was just the right ticket. It was historical and touristy. If need be, she could blend in. A CIA safe house, a cabin in the wilderness would have been better, but she’d have to go through agency contacts to get one and Ciara wasn’t trusting anyone just yet.

She’d already trusted the wrong man, she thought with a cynical twist to her lips and a glance in the rearview mirror to see if she were being followed. And that’s the reason she was dropping out of sight.

She blamed most of that on herself. With the exception of a one-night affair five years ago, she’d been burned enough by men whose job it was to lie and deceive and gain crucial information. When did she get so clueless about them? When had she refused to believe a thing a man said? Gee, she thought. Maybe when her partner started showing up late for rendezvous and had more cash than they earned in a year. And the worst of this was, that two years ago they’d been lovers. Though it was long over, she’d let old feelings interfere with her judgment, and didn’t see what was really going on. And it had taken her a while to admit it. He’d used her emotionally and professionally, and that she’d allowed it to happen was too humiliating to swallow. She’d never make that mistake again. Not with any man.

Her hand slipped off the wheel and touched the flight tote with the videotape stashed inside. It was backup, and she thought of the man she’d caught betraying his country on the film. Her partner, Mark Faraday was six feet of slender male, with sun-bleached hair that told her he had more time off than she did. Good-looking, but not too good-looking to draw attention, Mark was born with a silver tongue. Now the laid back surfer spy was a national security risk by giving classified material away. A mole. And a risk to her.

She made a sour face and for the tenth time, called herself a fool. Then she’d called in a favor from her old college sorority sister, Katherine Davenport. First, Kat had been shocked to hear from her after all these years, and second, reluctant to give her a job. But Ciara would go nuts if she were stashed somewhere with nothing to do, waiting for the truth to come out and drag Mark to a high-security prison. She had to keep occupied, and her mind off her troubles. Caring for a one-year-old girl was going to be easy, like reliving her teen years. She’d practically raised her little sister Cassie after their parents had been killed in a jet crash over Scotland. Well, she and her older brothers. It hadn’t taken much to convince Kat she was qualified. Childcare was how she’d earned extra money during college. Ciara knew baby care about as well as she knew when and where the satellites were aligned to pick up the best frequencies and take aerial photos.

Ciara had to assure Kat she wasn’t putting anyone in danger. And the first thing she would do when she had a chance was mail the videotape to a neutral party. Then a carefully worded note that would take the heat off of her.

She wasn’t paying much attention to the beautiful landscape until she hit a rut in the road. She braked, gawking at the gnarled live oaks draped in Spanish moss and the so-green-it-hurt-her-eyes lawn. The scent of jasmine came through the car’s air conditioner, enveloping her. Throwing the car into park, she quickly climbed out, checking the address, then stared at the house.

House?

Heck, this was Tara revisited. Two stories with wraparound porches on both levels, the white house was magnificent—spreading across an acre and surrounded by about ten more, if she had to guess.

Did only a widower and a baby live in all this?

She hoped he had a maid.

Grabbing her tote, she slung it onto her shoulder and walked up the steps, taking a deep breath of the fragrances of jasmine and wisteria. An odd peace came with it, and the tension she’d carried for days flowed out of her muscles.

This wasn’t just isolation and safety, this was a dream.

Bryce felt warm slimy peaches slide off his face and plop on his chest. “Well,” he said tiredly, staring blankly at his eleven-month-old daughter. “I see we’re going to have to work on your table etiquette.”

She shrieked, twisting her head to the side when he offered her more. Bryce tossed the spoon aside and sagged into the chair, giving up this battle.

Carolina proceeded to play with the mess on the high chair tray.

Bryce looked around at the results of feeding his daughter and knew his late wife was laughing. Diana would say this was justice for not loving her like she needed. God knows he had tried. He’d done everything he could to make the marriage work. A marriage he hadn’t wanted. She’d loved him, but in the end, he knew she’d hated him.

Guilt swam through Bryce. He and Diana had been lovers briefly when he’d come home from the Secret Service for a visit. Those two nights produced the little girl in the high chair. And when Carolina had arrived, Diana’s life ended. He loved his baby more than his life, and he knew that marrying Diana because she was pregnant was the right thing to do then, but he hadn’t mourned her.

The guilt intensified and he pushed his fingers into his hair and pushed the thoughts out of his mind.

He swore he was never going to get involved with a woman again.

Heck, he was terrified of letting this tiny female down. Of ruining her life like he had her mother’s. He couldn’t trust himself not to destroy another woman’s life. Not to mention the damage it did to his soul.

His daughter flung the mushy beige food, a glob landing on his shirt. He didn’t bother to wipe it and thought of his former colleagues in the Secret Service seeing him now. A far cry from the man who lived dangerously, moment to moment protecting the first family. He was now Mr. Mom and a complete failure at it, he thought. There should be a school or something for dads who had to be moms, too.

Four days without a nanny and he was seeing exactly how useless he was at being a reliable father. He didn’t think he’d miss the skills of a woman more than he did right now. His sister had helped him a few times after Diana’s death, but she had her own family. His parents were retired, leaving him the family business and this monstrous house while they traveled the world. It was only right, but the shrimping business was taking off like a runaway train and he hadn’t been able to operate it from this house since before his daughter was born.

He looked at his baby. He’d had a nanny, but she’d refused to be a live-in. Carolina needed consistency, someone there for her when he couldn’t be. Someone who would be tender and loving. And almost a mother. What his baby didn’t need was a parade of strangers marching through her life now. She was so young and had a tendency to scream bloody murder when a stranger got close. Probably because all she ever saw was him and the nanny. The maid, well she was from a service, and all business. And rarely the same one each time.

The last nanny said Carolina was difficult. And when he’d found the woman lounging around, watching soap operas while his daughter cried in a playpen, Bryce had fired her. The next three nannies hadn’t been any better.

Neglecting his child was not an option, nor was putting her in a day-care center where she’d get sick and there were too many children. He wanted his daughter to have attention while he was at work. Lord, he didn’t think finding child care would be so difficult. Luckily, someone had recommended Wife Incorporated to him. He’d spoken with the owner, Katherine Davenport, and though she sounded nice, what mattered was that she’d come to his rescue. She was sending a nanny out today. Any minute.

Bryce prayed it was someone with a tender heart.

And he hoped she arrived soon.

Carolina shrieked, her lip curling down, and he left his chair to walk over to a cookie jar. He gave her one cookie. Instantly she quieted.

He would deal with the chocolate mess later.

Bribery, he thought as he dropped back into the chair, was acceptable in grave situations.

Bryce started to clean up the mess, bending down on his hands and knees to get the food spilled on the floor. He chased a piece of cereal and when Carolina burst into tears, he flinched and bumped his head on the table. He stood, staring down at her as she reared back in that squirm he’d come to know meant she was done and wanted down now. Then she started kicking and crying. Bryce rushed to finish cleaning up the mess, then handed his daughter a carrot to grind against her cutting teeth.

“Five minutes, princess,” he pleaded. “I just need five minutes.”

She threw the carrot and cried harder.

Then the doorbell rang.

Taking Carolina out of the high chair, Bryce struggled to keep a safe hold on her when she squirmed, refusing to be still. Since she was already climbing out of her crib and crawling away with amazing speed, he didn’t dare put her on the floor yet. Besides, he could tell how clean it wasn’t anyway.

“We have company, sweetie.” Carolina looked up at him, chocolate cookie smeared over her face and clothes. She worked the mush in her hand as if it would hurry it into her mouth. Then she stilled and offered him a bite, missing his mouth and jamming the soggy cookie somewhere near his ear.

“Well,” he said as he walked toward the door. “Guess it’s good that she sees us at our worst, huh?”

His hand on the door, Bryce tipped his head back. Please Lord, let it be some dowdy grandma type who can really help us.

He opened the door.

Her back to him, at first all he saw was a nicely rounded behind tucked inside jeans, a white blouse and a brown leather vest. And chestnut-brown hair pulled up in a ponytail.

Not exactly grandma, he thought.

The woman turned and her features slackened.

Bryce thought his knees would fold beneath him any second.

Staring him in the face was the one woman, the only woman, who’d rocked his world and set it on fire.

“I can’t believe this,” he said more to himself.

“Well, hey there, secret agent man,” she replied softly and the words held the echo of the one and only time they’d been together.

Bryce’s body seized with the memory. Naked and wild. The feel and taste of her rocketing through his mind. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m from Wife Incorporated.” Her brows knitted slightly. “Weren’t you expecting me?”

“I was expecting someone, certainly not you.”

“Life is full of little surprises, huh?”

Surprise, hell. This was a “knock him into next week” shock, he thought, holding her gaze and seeing much more in her cognac-brown eyes, the way they flared when he was inside her, the sly look she got when she knew she was giving him pleasure.

And Ciara saw it, in his expression, the memory of that one night. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her cool and not remember the only time she’d seen this man…when he had her up against a hotel wall and was devouring her. Greedy and primal. The instant their eyes met, her body had jumped to life. Now she felt her breathing increase, heat twisting through her. He was the only man who could do that to her. With just a look of those ice-blue eyes.

And now she was suppose to live in his house?

Her gaze swept him. He looked ragged, and far from the man she saw last. Baby food clung to his hair and T-shirt, and there was a dark brown streak hastily wiped off his cheek near his ear. His jeans were splattered with assorted bits of soggy cereal and spilled coffee. It was almost comical, except in his arms a dark haired infant was twisting like a slippery fish trying to get back in the water, and crying to be let down.

Ciara instantly dropped her bag and stepped closer. “Hey,” she said softly, tugging on the baby’s dress, which was in as bad a shape as her father’s shirt and slacks. “Hey there.”

The baby came upright sharply and stared at her with wide blue eyes. “Hello there, sweetie,” she said, her gaze on the child as she asked, “Are you going to introduce me, Mr. Bryce Ashland?”

Bryce blinked and followed her gaze to Carolina, who was still crying, but looking curious. His gaze shot back to her. “Maybe when I know your name.”

Smiling, she held out her hand. “Ciara. Ciara Stuart.”

Bryce grasped her hand and the pulse of her blood hummed through him. Oh God, he thought. It hasn’t changed one bit. One touch and his entire being jumped to life, his nerves jingling and leaving his heart thumping like a sledgehammer in his chest. Everything he remembered about her came back tenfold and Bryce realized in that moment that this woman had done more than leave an impression.

She’d branded him.

It was so strong that Hong Kong seemed like days ago, not five years.

Her memory was just as clear, and Ciara’s heart skipped into high gear, the warmth of his fingers around hers reminding her of how seductive they could be. How they felt on her skin, slipping inside her body. Suddenly she ached with a longing so deep she had trouble not groaning aloud. Just looking at him made her feel alive and hot. Her secret agent man. Her fantasy man. Oh, this was too weird. A shock, yes, a danger, maybe. How was she going to be around this man? Especially when all she could think of was that seductive night and that in those few short hours he’d made feel more alive and female and wicked than in her entire life. Or that the memory of him had kept her company when she was isolated and completely friendless.

Her fingers moved in his and his grip tightened warmly. For a moment she thought he’d lace his fingers with hers and pull her toward him like he’d done in the elevator that night. As if he understood, he gave her a sexy smile that made her toes curl, then pulled free.

Bryce inclined his head. “This is my daughter, Carolina.”

Ciara dragged her attention back to the baby and noticed the brown goo all over her. “Chocolate?” Her eyes went wide. “For a baby? Are you nuts? Oh, you do need help.” She lightly clapped her hands, then held them out to the child.

Carolina launched into her arms. The crying instantly stopped.

Ciara patted the baby’s back, and Bryce watched in complete amazement as his daughter nuzzled her dirty face against Ciara’s chest.

Bryce blinked. “It’s got to be a woman thing.”

“Not really, it’s a baby thing. I’m just not fighting with her.” She grinned at him, a little devilish and his heart choked. “Besides, she’s warm, messy, sticky and I can’t believe you gave her sugar.” She plucked the remains of the cookie from the baby and dropped it into his hand.

Carolina didn’t make a fuss. Then Ciara stepped inside the house, brushing past him. “Which way to the kitchen?” she said as she walked.

“Your next right.” He stood there for a moment, then grabbed her bag and her suitcases off the porch and brought them inside. Closing the door, he strode into the kitchen, tossing the cookie in the trash.

She had Carolina on the counter and was gently washing her face and hands, talking softly, smiling. “Well, darling, you need a bath and some fresh clothes.” She glanced at Bryce, then her gaze swept meaningfully to the mess on the kitchen table. “How much of that did she really eat?”

“Not much. She more or less made missiles of it all.”

Ciara nodded. “Does she use a bottle or a cup?”

“As of recently, one of these,” he said, holding up a tippy cup that rolled when he set it back down.

“Is she on a schedule?”

“A what?”

Lifting the child in her arms, she looked at him. He was washing his hands, and not more than two feet away from her. It set her nerves tingling again.