“That’s what happens when you become a tycoon,” her mother teased.

“I wish. Jonathan’s the tycoon. I’m barely starting out.”

Betsy straightened. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. In her jeans and sweatshirt she didn’t look much older than Cynthia. “You seem to be getting along with Jonathan as well.”

“He’s been great.”

Her mother sighed, then leaned against the countertop. “I know that you’re a mature adult and you have to make your own decisions, but I can’t help worrying about you where he’s concerned. He seems like a nice man. He was so good to us while you were in the hospital, but…” Her voice trailed off.

Cynthia busied herself with finding more paper napkins. She had a feeling she knew what her mother was going to say and she didn’t want to hear it.

“You have to remember who he is,” Betsy finished at last.

Cynthia set down the package of napkins and faced her mother. “What happened to me believing in myself and doing my best? Didn’t you always tell me I was just as good as anyone else?”

“Of course, and I still believe that, but that was a general comment and we’re dealing with specifics where Jonathan is concerned.” Betsy raised her hands, palms up, in a gesture that was both conciliatory and pleading. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Jonathan is a fantasy man in your life. You’ve been so busy with helping me and starting your business that you haven’t had much time to date. Looking back I see that I deserve a lot of the blame. I’ve leaned on you too much. But now I’m afraid you’re going to look at Jonathan with all your pent-up longing and see him as what you want him to be, rather than what he is.”

Cynthia forced a smile even though she wasn’t sure how successful she was in the execution. “Jonathan keeps telling me the same thing. That I see him as a nice guy, but he’s really a bastard.”

Betsy looked startled at the comment. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just pointing out that while to you he’s a knight in shining armor, to him, you’re his nephew’s nanny. You are my daughter and I think you’re amazingly special, but I’m not sure you’re someone he would fall in love with. I’m only concerned about protecting you.” She paused. “Does that make sense?”

Cynthia nodded slowly. “More than I want it to.”

She hated thinking about her mother’s words, but she knew they were wise and she would be a fool to ignore them. Whatever attraction might exist between her and Jonathan, it had no basis in reality.

But even as she thought that, a voice in her head whispered that the passion had been extraordinary, and she hadn’t been the only one to think so. Jonathan had been aroused when they’d kissed. Of course men got aroused all the time and did it necessarily mean anything?

“Jonathan is going through a difficult time right now,” her mother said. “He’s just lost his brother and sister-in-law and has a new baby in his life. You are the one person rescuing him. But when things settle down, he’s not going to need you so much.”

“I know, Mom,” she said. “Everything is really confusing right now, but I’ll remember what you said. I know you want to keep me safe from harm.” She hesitated. “I don’t blame you for my lack of social life. I’m the one who chose to stay home.”

Betsy regarded her thoughtfully. “I think it’s time that changed. We have to learn to live without you and you have to get back to your own life.”

“I agree.”

But the thought of moving out made her sad. She’d enjoyed being with her family on a daily basis. Still, the natural order of things said that the young grew up and left. Circumstances had changed the course of her life-possibly for the better. Now it was time to tackle her own destiny.

Did that mean Jonathan? Or should she listen to her mother and assume that nothing between them was going to work? As much as she believed Betsy’s words and knew that if she continued to think about him and long for him, she was bound to get hurt, she wasn’t convinced she could simply turn her back on the man. Certainly not while she was living in his house. And she had no intention of leaving anytime soon. They hadn’t begun to make plans for him to hire a permanent nanny.

But Jonathan kept telling her that he wasn’t a prize-that if she wasn’t careful, she was going to get hurt. Her mother’s words reminded her that it might be prudent to listen. After all, he might just be telling the truth.

Jonathan looked up as Cynthia returned to the dining room. She carried a fancy cake on a plate. Betsy followed with plates and forks.

“I know the boys don’t really like dessert,” Betsy said in a playfully serious tone of voice. “You don’t have to cut any for them.”

Brad, or maybe it was Brett, slapped his hands flat on the table. “Mo-om, you know that’s not true. We love dessert. Especially cake.” He turned to Jonathan. “Did Lucinda bake it herself?”

“Sure. She bakes lots of things. There are probably enough frozen cookies in the freezer to open a bakery.”

The boy’s eyes widened at the thought. “Wow. Cookies in the freezer. Mom makes them all the time, but there aren’t any left over to freeze. If there were, we could take ’em in our lunch.”

“Imagine,” Betsy teased. “But that would mean eating less when they were straight from the oven.”

“Or you could bake more,” her son offered.

“I suspect there will be leftover cake,” Cynthia said as she started to cut into the flowered confection. “I doubt that Mr. Steele will mind if you take some home.”

Both boys turned their attention to him. “Feel free,” he said and earned two blazing smiles.

“Just a little piece,” Jenny said from her seat across the table. As she had at her own house, she held Colton in her arms. “The same size as yours, Cynthia.”

Jonathan had noticed that Jenny was content to be her older sister’s shadow, doing whatever she did, the same way at the same time. Brad and Brett obviously cared about their sister, but they didn’t emulate her. Instead he’d caught them giving him worshipful glances from time to time.

“Do you think we could go look at your cars?” one of the boys asked. “We read this article about you a while back and it said you had a five-car garage and that it was filled.” He spoke with a reverence only possible when male soon-to-be drivers discussed cars.

Jonathan chuckled. “Sure. After we finish dinner.”

“Until then, leave Mr. Steele alone,” Cynthia said, sliding a slice of cake in front of him.

Since the funeral and the visit to his brother’s house, she’d changed out of her black dress into more casual attire. Her hair was still back in the fancy braid she favored. She looked impossibly young and beautiful.

He looked around at the table still covered with serving dishes from dinner. He tried to remember the last time he’d used the dining room for anything but a solitary dinner. Lucinda lamented his nearly monastic social life and his refusal to entertain. She’d been in her element this afternoon and evening as she’d prepared for his guests. No doubt when she returned on Monday she would lecture him to have people in more often.

At the far end of the table Brad and Brett had started a heated conversation about the virtues of a turbocharged V-6 engine versus a basic V-8. Jenny was busy telling them that cars were boring while Cynthia joined in to point out that they were all years from driving and wasn’t there something else they could talk about.

Betsy, seated on his left, leaned forward. “Were you this interested in cars when you were their age?”

“Probably. I think most boys can’t wait to be old enough to drive.”

She nodded and looked at her sons. “They’re growing up so fast. I can’t believe they’re already ten.” She smiled. “Double digit ages are very important.”

“Maybe at ten. They’re less interesting now.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said.

He looked at her, at the wide eyes so like her daughter’s, at the ready smile. Betsy and Cynthia had a lot in common, although the mother had more wariness in her expression. It was hard to believe that she was only a few years older than himself and that she’d been a mere two years older than Jenny when she’d had Cynthia.

“They miss their father,” Betsy said, nodding at the twins. “That’s why they’re clinging to you. Don’t panic, they’re not expecting a substitute, it’s just that they don’t spend a lot of time with many men.” She took a bite of cake and chewed thoughtfully. “I keep telling myself it’s time for me to change that, but I’m not sure.”

“I would guess with children around, you have to be careful.”

“Exactly.” She leaned toward him. “Colton is young enough now that it’s not an issue for you, but it will be as he gets older. I’ve been out with a few men, but so far I haven’t met anyone I want to introduce to the boys. Although there is a nice sales rep where I work.” She shrugged. “We’ll have to see.”

He glanced at the far end of the table and saw that Betsy’s children were still occupied with their own conversation. “How did you manage to raise Cynthia on your own? You were so young.”

“In a way that helped,” she said. “I was too inexperienced to realize what a huge job I was taking on. So I was able to be confident and fearless, even when I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You have tremendous character that you’ve passed onto your daughter. I admire that.”

“Mine or hers?” she asked, then shook her head. “You don’t have to answer that.” She looked at her daughter. “Cynthia was there for me when I was going through a bad time. I’ll never forget that, nor will her brothers and sister. She’s a very special young woman. But being at home with me these past three years has meant that she couldn’t have much of a social life of her own. She hasn’t had the usual experiences other women her age have had.”