Читать книгу: «Loving Leah»

“Go away, Leah.”

John’s voice lashed like a whip across the room, halting her in midstep. He was ready for a fight. More than that, he wanted one. But why?

“John, please, I’ve come here to help—”

“I don’t want or need your charity,” he muttered. “So why don’t you grab your suitcase and just get the hell out of here,” he said with a quiet emphasis that almost had her scurrying to obey.

“I’ll get out of your study…for now. You’re obviously in the midst of a self-indulgent wallow of some sort, and I might as well leave you to it. But I’m not getting out of your house, not tonight or tomorrow or the day after that. I never knew you could be such a jerk, John Bennett,” she finished, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Leah,” he warned softly, turning to face her. “A lot you don’t want to know. Believe me.”

Dear Reader,

Make way for spring—as well as some room on your reading table for six new Special Edition novels! Our selection for this month’s READERS’ RING—Special Edition’s very own book club—is Playing by the Rules by Beverly Bird. In this innovative, edgy romance, a single mom who is sick and tired of the singles scene makes a deal with a handsome divorced hero—that their relationship will not lead to commitment. But both hero and heroine soon find themselves breaking all those pesky rules and falling head over heels for each other!

Gina Wilkins delights her readers with The Family Plan, in which two ambitious lawyers find unexpected love—and a newfound family—with the help of a young orphaned girl. Reader favorite Nikki Benjamin delivers a poignant reunion romance, Loving Leah, about a compassionate nanny who restores hope to an embittered single dad and his fragile young daughter.

In Call of the West, the last in Myrna Temte’s HEARTS OF WYOMING miniseries, a celebrity writer goes to Wyoming and finds the ranch—and the man—with whom she’d like to spend her life. Now she has to convince the cowboy to give up his ranch—and his heart! In her new cross-line miniseries, THE MOM SQUAD, Marie Ferrarella debuts with A Billionaire and a Baby. Here, a scoop-hungry—and pregnant—reporter goes after a reclusive corporate raider, only to go into labor just as she’s about to get the dirt! Ann Roth tickles our fancy with Reforming Cole, a sexy and emotional tale about a willful heroine who starts a “men’s etiquette” school so that the macho opposite sex can learn how best to treat a lady. Against her better judgment, the teacher falls for the gorgeous bad boy of the class!

I hope you enjoy this month’s lineup and come back for another month of moving stories about life, love and family!

Best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Loving Leah
Nikki Benjamin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NIKKI BENJAMIN

was born and raised in the Midwest, but after years in the Houston area, she considers herself a true Texan. Nikki says she’s always been an avid reader. (Her earliest literary heroines were Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden and Beany Malone.) Her writing experience was limited, however, until a friend started penning a novel and encouraged Nikki to do the same. One scene led to another, and soon she was hooked.

Contents

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

In her modest sedan, Leah Hayes could have covered the distance from her father’s spacious home to John Bennett’s house in a matter of minutes. And on almost any other occasion, she would have done so without a second thought. Despite the eight years she had been away, the tree-lined streets of the neighborhood, within easy walking distance of the University of Montana campus in Missoula, were still familiar to her. But with her reception so uncertain, Leah chose to take her time.

“Are you lost, Aunt Leah?” her six-year-old niece asked, her soft, sweet voice edged with anxiety.

“No, Gracie,” Leah assured her, smiling ruefully as she glanced in the rearview mirror. “I remember the way to your house.”

Gracie’s frown eased, though only just a bit.

The little girl looked like both her mother—Leah’s stepsister, Caro—and her father, her features a perfect blend of the two. From Caro, Gracie had gotten her heart-shaped face and silky blond curls, and from her father, John, she had inherited the grave, pale gray eyes and determined tilt of chin that Leah had tried so hard, and so unsuccessfully, to forget in the years she’d been away.

“But you’re driving really slow,” the child pointed out.

“I’m admiring all the pretty flowers.” True, but not the whole truth behind her dawdling. “Everyone seems to have worked really hard on their gardens this year.”

“Not us.” Gracie’s disappointment sounded in her voice. “All we have in our flower beds are scraggly old weeds.”

“Well, that’s something we can fix while I’m here. Pulling weeds and planting flowers won’t take us any time at all if we work together.”

“Maybe my dad could help us, too,” Gracie murmured wistfully. “Before my mom died he always used to make sure we had pretty flowers.”

“Maybe so,” Leah agreed, though she had no idea at all what John would or wouldn’t be willing to do in the weeks ahead.

“He’ll probably be too busy,” the child said with an audible sigh of resignation. “He’s always too busy to do things with me, or he’s too sad. He really misses my mom, you know. But you’re here now, Aunt Leah, and you’ll do lots of things with me, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Gracie. I’m here now, and we’ll do lots and lots of things together this summer. I promise,” Leah said, making yet another vow to someone she loved before she’d had a chance to consider what it might cost her.

“See all the weeds in our flower beds?” her niece said as they turned onto Cedar Street.

“Yes, I do,” Leah replied, trying to hide her dismay at how run-down and abandoned the lovely, two-story house appeared compared to the photographs Caro had so proudly sent her a couple of years ago.

With the streetlights illuminating the house, she gave it a closer look. Though not totally weed-infested, the gardens were overgrown, the lawn could have used a good mowing, and the front windows were all dark despite the onset of evening.

She had hoped her father and stepmother had been exaggerating about John’s mood and behavior. Surely he had begun to get over the worst of his grief and was now ready to move on with his life again. He had responsibilities that couldn’t be ignored, Gracie being the most important among them. And he had agreed to let her help him take care of his daughter for the summer, hadn’t he?

“Do you think my dad’s home?” Gracie asked as Leah turned into the driveway, the uncertainty in her voice adding to Leah’s own.

“That’s his SUV, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” the little girl replied, then added by way of explanation, “but that doesn’t mean he’s home. He goes for long walks at night. Really, really long walks, and it’s nighttime now.”

Leah could understand John’s avoidance if she’d been the only one showing up on his doorstep. But would he go for one of his long walks on an evening when he was supposedly expecting his daughter to come home, as well? The man she had known eight years ago wouldn’t have, but John had changed after Caro’s death in ways that Leah wouldn’t have believed possible had anyone except her father told her.

“If your father isn’t home, we can always go back to Grandpa’s house and wait there until he returns,” Leah said, hoping she sounded more decisive than she felt.

“Okay,” Gracie readily agreed, her fears obviously eased by Leah’s simple solution.

Deciding to leave her suitcase in the trunk of the car, Leah helped Gracie out of the back seat. The little girl had only a slight bit of trouble maneuvering her injured leg, encased in a metal brace, so that she could stand up, but she accepted Leah’s assistance graciously. And though she was more than capable of walking up the brick path that led from the driveway to the front door of the house on her own, she also tucked her hand into Leah’s. Leah held on gratefully, receiving her own measure of reassurance from the physical contact.

Pausing on the small covered porch, she took a deep breath, gave Gracie’s hand an encouraging squeeze and rang the doorbell. A cool breeze stirred the tree branches and lifted her straight, shoulder-length brown hair as she listened to the faint echo of the chimes. Shivering slightly, she wished she had put on her sweater before leaving the car. It might be June, but in Montana the night air still held a definite chill that her jeans and denim shirt couldn’t ward off.

“Oh, no…” Gracie murmured as seconds ticked into a minute, then two, without the door opening.

Reaching out, Leah pressed her finger against the doorbell a second time, holding it there several seconds longer than she had the first time. Another minute or two passed and then, to her relief, she heard the sound of the bolt lock being drawn.

“He’s here!” Gracie’s voice was filled with an odd mix of excitement and uncertainty that Leah determined to be a consequence of her father’s erratic behavior.

Choosing to ignore as best she could the quiver that stole along her own spine, Leah forced herself to smile. The simple words “Hi, stranger” formed in her mind, a perfectly acceptable greeting after eight years, especially if spoken in a cheerfully teasing tone.

The front door finally swung open, not smoothly but with a jerk that signaled impatience, even irritation, and in the semidarkness, the man looming on the threshold presented a frightening visage, at least to Leah’s eyes. Had she not expected him to be John, she would have never recognized the person now standing before her.

With his dark, shaggy hair unkempt, his face unshaven, his eyes bleary, his navy T-shirt and faded jeans hanging much too loosely on his tall, lanky frame, John Bennett looked no more familiar to her than a total stranger would have. And a hostile stranger at that, she thought, her smile fading and her jaunty greeting left unspoken.

“Hi, Daddy,” Gracie said.

The child’s high, sweet, hopeful voice filled the gaping silence as she let go of Leah’s hand and took a tentative step forward.

Immediately John’s expression changed, softening perceptibly as his gaze shifted to his daughter. His love for the little girl was so obvious and unencumbered that it seemed almost palpable to Leah. Here was the man she remembered, she thought, the good, kind man who would never intentionally hurt anyone, especially her. He wasn’t hostile at all, only ravaged by a grief so profound and desperately unrelenting that nothing, save the sight of his beloved daughter, could ease it.

“Hi, Gracie.” John bent down and scooped his daughter into his arms, gently cradling her injured leg in one large, competent hand. As he straightened up, he shared a warm and heartfelt hug with her. “Did you have a good time at Grandma and Grandpa’s house?”

“Oh, yes. They had a big surprise for me, too.” With a satisfied smile the little girl turned and waved a hand at Leah. “Look, Daddy, it’s Aunt Leah. You remember her, don’t you? I went to visit her in Chicago with Mommy a whole bunch of times. Now she’s finally come to visit us here in Missoula, and guess what? She’s going to stay right here with us all summer, and I’m so glad, Daddy. Aren’t you?”

“Of course I remember your aunt. In fact, I remember her quite well,” John replied in a noncommittal tone, his gaze settling on Leah. “Welcome back to Missoula, Leah.”

She started to smile again, started to greet him as she’d planned, but the expression on his face belied his softly spoken words. Though not openly hostile, the glance he cast her was, at the very least, unfriendly. So unfriendly, in fact, that it caught her completely by surprise. And his failure to agree with Gracie that he was glad she would be staying with them spoke volumes about his feelings in that regard, as well.

She had thought that John was not only aware of the arrangements her father and stepmother had made on Gracie’s behalf, but that he also approved of them. He had to have known that she was the one Cameron and Georgette had chosen to serve as the little girl’s nanny for the summer. Surely they’d discussed their plan with him and gotten his approval before approaching her, hadn’t they?

But if John had given his approval, why was he treating her with such hostility?

Leah realized that she’d never asked either Cameron or Georgette how John felt about the matter, and apparently, in their wisdom, they had chosen not to mention it themselves. They had told her only that John had changed quite a bit since Caro’s death, and to Leah that had been understandable, considering the extent of his loss. Had she known he would be irritated by her arrival and dislike the idea of her living in his house, she would never have agreed to return to Missoula.

What had possessed her to assume so much, so mistakenly?

Her love for Gracie, Leah realized. Cameron had insisted that John was still too preoccupied with his own loss to give the little girl the attention she needed, and Gracie’s comments in the car had verified that. And then, of course, there had been that unavoidable flare of hope, coupled with the sudden reawakening of long-dormant dreams, that had stirred deep in her soul at the thought of seeing her dearest friend again after eight long, very lonely years.

She hadn’t expected John to share her feelings. Barely a year had passed since Caro’s death, and he would never love anyone as much as he’d loved her. But neither had Leah anticipated such a total lack of warmth, not to mention welcome.

“The nanny’s room is on the far side of the den past the kitchen,” he directed, interrupting her reverie in a no-nonsense, matter-of-fact tone of voice. As if she was a lowly stranger hired for the summer against his better judgment, instead of someone with whom he’d once shared his hopes and dreams, Leah thought, staring at him in undisguised bewilderment.

“Make yourself at home,” he added, his cool, distant expression devoid of any hint of invitation. Then to Gracie in a much softer, gentler tone he said as he turned away, “I bet you had dinner at Grandma’s house, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, my favorite—hamburgers and French fries.”

“Well, then, let’s get you upstairs and into your pajamas. It’s almost past your bedtime, young lady.”

Putting her arms around her father’s neck, Gracie giggled with uninhibited delight.

Standing alone on the porch, watching John walk slowly up the staircase just inside the entryway of the house with Gracie held close in his arms, Leah’s first impulse was to yell, “Hey, wait a minute. Where do you think you’re going?” She couldn’t do it, though. Not with Gracie looking on. The little girl deserved a peaceful night’s sleep, and she definitely wouldn’t have one if she first had to witness an angry scene between her father and her aunt.

But Leah had a right to know what was going on with John. She’d had what now seemed to be the glossy version from her father and stepmother. Apparently they had given her just enough information—distinctly shaded to the positive—to lure her back to Missoula. And with her guard down, she had been totally unprepared for the problems they must have known she would surely encounter.

Of course, she couldn’t claim to be totally innocent. She had gone along with the plan easily enough, she acknowledged, fumbling along the wall inside the doorway for the switches that turned on the porch and entryway lights. She’d believed what they’d wanted her to believe because she’d wanted to believe it, too.

Her father and stepmother had needed her help—help she’d been easily able to afford to give during her summer vacation. They’d been sure that if anyone could deal with John’s moodiness while also providing a stable home for Gracie, it was she. And with her experience working as a teacher at a private girls’ school in Chicago, Leah had known she could also help Gracie catch up on the schoolwork she’d missed due to her injuries.

Ruefully, she now considered all the questions she hadn’t asked Cameron and Georgette, and remembered, much too late, all the words they had used to describe John Bennett—bitter, angry, not himself—which she had originally chosen to ignore. There had even been a comment about John running off two nannies in the past nine months—a comment she should have questioned more closely, but of course hadn’t.

Obviously they hadn’t left because he’d been nice to them, Leah acknowledged as she walked back to the car to retrieve her suitcase. And he certainly hadn’t been nice to her, either. But she wasn’t just any young woman hired through a professional agency to look after his daughter. She was Leah—his once and always friend. Or so she’d believed until he’d dismissed her without so much as a backward glance.

She could leave of course. She could just get into her car and drive back to Chicago. No one would blame her, not even her father and stepmother. But who would look after Gracie then? Who would care for the little girl as willingly and lovingly as she would? Not Cameron and Georgette—they were leaving for her father’s summer lecture series in Europe early tomorrow morning. There wasn’t anyone else Leah could think of.

So she would have to stay—or live with more guilt than her conscience could bear. But she wasn’t going to tolerate open animosity from John Bennett, she vowed as she opened the trunk of her car. She shouldn’t have to. He had been her friend once—her very best friend—and she was there for a very good reason.

As she had every intention of reminding him once she’d had a chance to gather her courage and stand up to him.

Chapter Two

“Are you angry with Aunt Leah, Daddy?” Gracie asked, her concern evident in the hush of her voice and the frown furrowing her brow.

Mentally cursing himself for upsetting his daughter on her first night back at home, John tightened his hold on her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“No, Gracie, I’m not angry with your aunt Leah,” he said as they made their way up the staircase to the second floor.

Well, not any angrier than he’d been with anyone else intent on interfering with his life lately, he admitted to himself, not counting Gracie of course. But then, his daughter wasn’t any interference at all, never had been, and to his way of thinking, never would be. From the moment of her birth, she had been the light of his life.

“But you sounded kind of growly when you talked to her, Daddy,” Gracie insisted.

“Growly, huh?” he replied with a wry smile.

What a way she had of describing how he’d sounded! He smiled slightly, musing that his verbal release had resulted from the unfortunate mix of emotions he’d been experiencing all afternoon. Since Leah’s father had first advised him earlier that day that Leah was the so-called nanny they had found to help him look after Gracie for the summer, John had been angry and resentful and, to his consternation, oddly unsettled, as well.

He was used to the anger. It had gone hand in hand with the pain of losing Caro in such a tragic, senseless, unexpected way. Resentment, too, had been a good friend in the months since his wife’s untimely death. He didn’t want sympathy, because to his way of thinking he didn’t deserve it. He, and he alone, had been responsible for Caro’s death. He had earned every agonizing moment he’d lived since that fateful night, and then some.

The restiveness he had been battling the past few hours was something else altogether, though—a feeling he most definitely didn’t want to indulge in, especially in regard to Leah Hayes.

A heart thrum of tension had lanced through him at just the thought of having her in his life again on a daily basis—close enough to see, to touch. He’d wanted to roar like the caged and wounded beast he’d felt himself to be for far too long. When he’d actually had to open his door to her and meet her clear, level gaze face-to-face for the first time in eight years, he’d been stirred by a nearly uncontrollable urge to pull her into his arms, hold her close and confess, without any constraint, the many sins he’d committed.

It was lucky for all concerned that he had only come across as “growly.” And he would have to put a lid on even that particular tone of voice, at least whenever Gracie was around, he thought as he set her down just inside the bathroom doorway and switched on the overhead light.

“Yes, Daddy, very growly,” she assured him. Then, tugging at his hand, she added gravely, “We can go back to Grandpa and Grandma’s house if you need some more private time. Only, we’ll have to come back here again tomorrow ’cause somebody else is going to be staying there while they’re gone on their big trip.”

Squatting on his heels in front of his daughter, his heart twisting at the painfully tentative look in her eyes, John smoothed a hand over his daughter’s tumble of blond, silky curls.

“I’m so glad you’re home again, Gracie, even if I didn’t exactly sound like it when I came to the door. And you’re staying right here with me from now on,” he vowed. “I’ve had enough private time the past few weeks to last a very long while.”

“What about Aunt Leah? Are you glad she’s here, too?”

“Are you glad, Gracie?” John asked, attempting to avoid telling the little girl an outright lie.

“Oh, yes. Really, really glad.”

“Then I’m glad that you’re glad. Now wash your face and hands and put on your pajamas while I turn down the blankets on your bed, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” As he stood upright again, she asked shyly, “Will you read a story to me?”

“I most certainly will. Any special requests?”

“You choose tonight.”

Leaving Gracie to get ready for bed on her own—something she had insisted on doing now that she would be starting first grade soon—John walked slowly down the hallway to the little girl’s room. It was just across from the bedroom he’d shared with Caro, and unlike most of the rest of the house, it was clean and tidy. The cherry furniture was freshly polished, there were clean linens on the canopy bed, Gracie’s books, dolls and stuffed animals were neatly arranged on the built-in shelves, and her toys were stored in the hope chest that matched the bed, dresser and nightstand.

Everything in the room was impeccably tasteful, everything chosen by Caro to suit a little girl as she grew into young womanhood. A transition Caro would have delighted in overseeing, but now never would, thanks to him.

Willing away that particularly unprofitable train of thought, John crossed to one of the two windows facing out over the front lawn, meaning to close the wide-slatted blinds. He saw that Leah had turned on the porch light, and at the edge of its glow, he saw her opening the trunk of her car, then reaching for a suitcase.

In the years they’d been apart, he’d forgotten how truly lovely she was with her dark hair falling softly against her shoulders, her green eyes flashing with intelligence. Her tall, slender body, once girlish, was now womanly in intriguing ways. She still seemed to have her own brand of inner beauty, as well—a steadfast heart that complemented the serenity of her soul.

Too bad he hadn’t valued all that she was when he might have been worthy of her attention. Now…

Now John hoped she didn’t plan to make herself too comfortable in his house, especially since she wasn’t going to be staying long. There were too many things he’d rather she not know about him, things he would have much too hard a time hiding from her if he allowed her into his life again on a regular basis.

He was more than capable of taking care of Gracie on his own. He’d have to pull himself together of course, but it was time he finally made the effort. The alternative—having Leah around for the next three months, a constant reminder of the lie he’d been living and would continue to live—was just the spur he needed.

“Daddy, you didn’t turn on the lamp,” Gracie chided gently as she joined him in her bedroom.

“I didn’t expect you to be ready for a story so soon.” With a flick of his wrist, John closed one set of blinds, crossed to the other window and closed the second set, then faced his daughter with a teasing smile. “Are you sure you gave your face and hands a really good wash?”

“A really, really good wash.” She smiled back at him as she turned on the nightstand lamp, then hoisted herself onto the bed. “I even put my clothes in the hamper. I brushed my teeth and my hair, too.”

“Need help with the brace?” he asked, striving for a casual tone.

“No, I can do it myself,” she replied as she worked at releasing the first of several Velcro straps that held the brace firmly in place around her left leg.

“Then I guess I’d better get busy and choose a story.”

Gracie had been good about wearing the ungainly brace, or at least she’d put up a good front in her own matter-of-fact way. She’d also worked hard during the daily, then weekly physical-therapy sessions following the surgery to mend the broken bones and torn ligaments, and she’d been rightfully proud of every small achievement she’d made.

She had been able to walk on her own in the bulky, metal contraption for a couple of months now. And according to the orthopedic surgeon’s most recent prognosis, she would soon be able to dispense with the brace altogether.

Gracie had also worked toward accepting the finality of her mother’s death, aided by a skilled psychologist and her loving grandparents. Slowly but steadily, she was returning to the happy, healthy and adventurous little girl she’d been a year ago.

John wished he could say that he’d had a hand in her recovery, but in truth, he had been too busy wallowing in his own brand of self-pity—one laced with self-contempt—to be of much help to anyone, even his beloved little girl. No more, though, he promised himself. The time had come for him to get past the anger, bitterness and pain and try to be the kind of father Gracie deserved.

Time, too, he acknowledged, to try to forget the words Caro had spoken to him those last moments they’d spent together, and what he had done to make her say them. Those awful memories only reinforced the cycle of unhealthy emotions that couldn’t change the past, but had already come much too close to destroying his future.

“How about Goodnight, Little Bear,” Gracie prompted softly, reminding John of why he stood in front of the bookcase that filled one entire wall of her room.

“An excellent choice,” he said as he reached for the slender volume. “I can read another one, as well, unless you’re feeling too sleepy.”

“Too sleepy tonight, Daddy.”

“Then it’s Goodnight, Little Bear and good night, little Gracie. How does that sound?”

“Oh, Daddy, you’re so silly sometimes.” Snuggling into her pillow, she giggled as he stretched out beside her atop the pretty, pink-and-white patchwork quilt.

“Sorry, I meant to be serious,” he teased, opening the book. “Guess I’d better use my growly voice again.”

“Oh, no, don’t do that. I don’t like your growly voice at all.”

“Then I’ll lock it up in a box.”

“And throw away the key?”

“Well, I might need the growly voice again sometime. I might have to use it with other people.”

“But not with me, right, Daddy?”

“Right, Gracie, not ever with you.”

“Not with Aunt Leah, either,” she instructed, then yawned and closed her eyes.

John said nothing for several seconds, unable to lie to the little girl in any way. More than likely, he would have to use his growly voice and then some to get Leah Hayes out of his house. But he’d make sure Gracie wasn’t within hearing distance when he did. In fact, he had every intention of dealing with Ms. Hayes just as soon as Gracie was asleep.

“Hey, are you sure you’re going to be able to stay awake for even one story?” he asked, putting his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and giving her a quick hug.

“Mm, yes, I can stay awake.”

“Okay, then…”

Focusing on the words of the story, words he practically knew by heart after reading the book to Gracie so often, John set aside all other thoughts. Content just to be in the present moment—at home with the little girl he loved more than he could say—he began to read.

In one hand, Leah carried the suitcase that held items she’d need most her first night in John’s house, in the other, Gracie’s bag filled with the clothes, books and a favorite stuffed animal she’d taken to her grandparents’. Trudging back up the brick walkway, she saw a light go on above her, shining through two of the front-facing windows and adding to the glow of the porch light.

Gracie’s room, she thought. John was probably putting his daughter to bed. By the time she had dumped the suitcases and taken a few minutes to freshen up in the bathroom, her niece should be tucked away for the night, perhaps already asleep. There was no reason she couldn’t get a few things straightened out with John then, except her own dread of squaring off with him. It wasn’t a happy prospect, by any stretch of the imagination, but an immediate, top-of-the-list must-do nonetheless.

Once inside the main entryway, Leah dropped Gracie’s bag at the foot of the staircase, then, turning on lights as she went, proceeded in the direction of the room she’d be using during her stay.