Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Noah stared at the closed door, his hand still gripping the brass knob with enough force to leave impressions in his palm.
The potential nanny had reeked of cigarette smoke. He wasn’t about to let someone who smoked anywhere near Charlotte.
But potential nanny’s smell hadn’t been his only problem, and Noah knew it.
The real problem was his own outsized reaction. Those wide eyes, pale blue like clear water, the way her teeth had caught her lower lip when he’d rejected her, the curve of her waist beneath that fitted blazer…
Sheesh. What was he doing?
Delaney Wright was exactly the kind of woman who could ruin his life.
Marianne’s face flashed through his mind—another beautiful woman.
The divorce two years before had been messy and public, and the rumor mill still swarmed with stories of things he’d never done, never thought to do.
The rumors hadn’t been Marianne’s fault, but she could’ve trusted him.
She might have if she’d cared more about their marriage than her potential settlement.
Noah hadn’t met a female he could trust since Mama died.
After the break-in that morning, he needed someone reliable, someone with integrity. In his experience, young, single women were the opposite of trustworthy.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs had Noah spinning.
Charlotte froze halfway down, eyes wide as if he might shout at her. She’d changed into her favorite T-shirt—the pink one with the sparkly butterfly—and stretchy pants, her blond curls sticking out at odd angles.
“Hey, Charlie-Bear. You’re awake.” He kept his voice low and steady, as he’d learned to do with his jumpy niece.
She continued down on bare feet, her hand trailing along the banister. “Who was the pretty lady?”
He kept his smile in place. Charlotte hardly ever spoke. And now she’d wasted words on the nanny he’d sent away.
“Nobody important.”
Charlotte’s lower lip pushed out in the expression that often preceded tears. “She looked sad.”
Noah hadn’t watched Miss Wright leave—had forced himself to turn away from the windows beside the door the moment he’d closed it. The last thing he needed was to have the image of her walking down his front steps burned into his memory.
“You must be hungry.” He moved toward the kitchen. “How about breakfast?”
Charlotte’s small hand slipped into his.
“Apple sandwiches and eggs?”
She shrugged. He knew she’d prefer a bowl of sugary cereal and milk, but he’d refused, and she didn’t argue like an ordinary four-year-old might. She was compliant, as if she feared…something.
He had no idea what. His goal was to be the father figure she’d never had, to make her feel safe and secure in his home. Soon, God willing, he’d be able to spend more time with her. But not until he completed the merger he’d been working on for months.
The familiar routine of scrambling eggs helped steady his nerves. Once they were cooking, he pulled an apple from the bowl on the granite countertop and began slicing it.
The mundane task should have calmed him, but his mind kept drifting back to the nanny he’d rejected.
He’d been rude. Unforgivably rude. His mother would have threatened to box his ears.
She’d threatened that punishment a thousand times during his childhood, and to this day, he had no idea what it would feel like.
Charlotte had climbed onto one of the barstools and was watching him, her little eyes squinted with worry.
Oops.
He’d been chopping the apples into chunks instead of the thin slices she preferred. “Sorry, Charlie-Bear.”
After stirring the eggs, he started over with a fresh apple, forcing himself to concentrate on turning the fruit into wedges, then smearing them with peanut butter.
Apple sandwiches, an Aylett family tradition.
Until Charlotte had come to live with him a few months before, she’d never even heard of apple sandwiches.
The smallest of Jasper’s many failures as a father.
In the foyer, the grandfather clock chimed quarter after nine, reminding Noah of the conference call he was supposed to join in fifteen minutes. Plus, he had to review documents before the afternoon meeting. And he still hadn’t returned a call from his attorney.
Somewhere in there, he’d have to call Jasper. Again.
Instead of taking care of all that stuff, he fixed a late breakfast and tried not to think about a beautiful creature who smelled like cigarettes and looked like every mistake he’d ever made.
He needed to find Charlotte a nanny—today. Things had been spinning out of control ever since she’d come to live with him. As if he hadn’t already been busy enough, he now had an intruder to deal with and a security system to upgrade.
Food prepared, he settled Charlotte in her seat at the kitchen table, then sat beside her, munching the chunks of apples he’d cut accidentally and trying not to think about his to-do list.
Noah’s phone vibrated, a staccato buzz on the table.
Seeing his brother’s photo on the screen, Noah stood and grabbed the phone before the second ring. He swiped to answer. “You’re alive.”
“Shut up.” Jasper’s voice sounded rough, as if he’d only just remembered that morning was a thing that happened to other people. “You texted like it was DEFCON one.”
Good thing Noah hadn’t needed his brother for anything, considering he’d texted hours before, right after the cops left.
“Hold on a second.” He kissed Charlotte on the forehead. “I have to take this. Can you finish your eggs, please? Then come find me and we’ll decide what to do next, okay?”
She nodded, the only response he expected.
He stepped out of the kitchen and toward his office at the front of the house. “What time is it where you are?”
“Early,” Jasper said. “What’s going on?”
He didn’t have time for Jasper’s hangover or whatever he’d gotten into, wherever in the world he was. “Someone broke into the house.” He kept his voice low so Charlotte wouldn’t hear. “Any idea who might do that?”
“Whoa. What?” A rustle sounded through the phone, probably Jasper dragging himself out of bed. “Someone broke in? A burglar? Did they steal anything?”
“The alarm scared them off. But it was four thirty in the morning. We were home.”
“Aw, man. Poor Charlotte. That must’ve scared her to death. Is she okay?”
Noah sat at his desk. He was already having a bad day. Adding a conversation with Jasper didn’t help.
He gave his brother a rundown of events. “I wondered if you had any idea who might’ve done it. Enemies? Former friends? Or maybe someone who thinks we have valuables?”
“I’m not an idiot.”
He managed to swallow a dark chuckle. Any man who abandoned a little girl to gallivant around the world was worse than an idiot. “What about”—he lowered his voice even more—“Violet?”
Jasper made a sound, a sharp laugh that bordered on a cough. “No way. She’s in New York—last I heard, anyway. She promised to stay away.”
“Maybe she wants to see her daughter.”
“If she did, she’d contact me, not break in.”
“Unless she wants her back.” He couldn’t imagine how she’d ever get custody legally. Maybe she knew her only shot was to kidnap her.
“She doesn’t,” Jasper said. “She only had the kid to get money out of me.”
“Charlotte.” Noah ground out his niece’s name through gritted teeth. “Her name is—”
“I know her name. I’m just saying, her mother doesn’t care about her. She just wanted cash, and I gave her as much as she’s ever getting.”
His brother’s photo should be on a billboard outlining all the reasons not to have one-night stands with strippers.
“I’m trying to cover all the bases,” Noah said. “Have you heard from her lately?”
“Not a peep since she lost custody. What did the cops say?”
“Someone picked the lock on the patio door. They checked the yard, found footprints, but no sign of who it was or what they wanted. Whoever it was took off when the alarm sounded. I assume he—or she—hopped the fence. I just need to know if I should be watching for Violet or…anyone else. Maybe an enemy, or—?”
“I don’t tell people where I’m from.”
That was a strange thing to say, and why would Jasper hide his past?
Not only that, but Jasper sounded tired.
Not the kind of tired that came from too much bourbon and not enough sleep.
More…weary, which didn’t make any sense.
The guy spent his life hobnobbing with the rich and famous, hopping from party to party, yacht to yacht.
What could he possibly have weighing him down?
“Are you okay, Jaz?” Noah asked, practically against his will. He didn’t appreciate Jasper’s life choices, but he was still his little brother. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
Jasper laughed, the sound hard. “Don’t worry about me, bro. I’m fine, and nobody’s coming for her.”
That last sentence landed too heavy. Until a few months before, Noah hadn’t known Charlotte existed. Nobody had cared about her at all. At least Jasper had brought her home, even if he wasn’t doing his part as a father.
“You’ll call if you think of anyone who might—”
“I’ll call. And Noah?” All humor and irritation seemed gone from his voice. “Take care of her.”
Right.
Noah jabbed his phone to end the call, irritation spiking.
What did Jasper think he was doing? Noah was killing himself trying to take care of Charlotte.
He was the only person in the world who could be bothered.