Code Name: Nanny Page 3

  “I don’t want to leave the girls alone, so this has to be fast.” Summer found another stool and climbed up beside him. “Why don’t we break the window?”

  Gabe shook his head. “Not with all those mullions.”

  A mullion was some kind of fish, wasn’t it? Summer frowned, trying to make sense of what he’d said.

  “These little pieces of wood can get pretty messy,” Gabe muttered. “It could take an hour or two.” Their hips bumped as he reached up to the fiberglass roof.

  Summer ignored a sharp ping of awareness. Good God, the man was built. “No other windows.” She looked up. “One small skylight.”

  “But I doubt either of us could fit through.”

  “There has to be some other way.” Summer pulled out her cell phone and dialed tensely.

  “Good thought. Imelda or Patrick can come out and check the door.”

  But no one picked up at the house. The line was busy—once, twice, six times. “Off the hook,” Summer muttered.

  “Either that or Audra is yakking with one of her friends. If those girls set this up, I’m going to burn their backsides myself,” Gabe said grimly. “It’s definitely a war out there, kids against the grown-ups. Too bad no one warned the grown-ups.” Gabe studied Summer. “You sure you’re a nanny? No offense, but you don’t exactly look like the type.”

  “And what type is that, Mr. Morgan?”

  “Gabe, damn it. And the type is small, fluttery. Lots of chatter and big hair. Black reading glasses on a gold neck chain. You know.”

  Summer tried the house again on her cell phone, then gave up in disgust. “What century are you living in? There are male and female nannies now, and they aren’t white-haired ladies with knitting needles, either. For your information, being a nanny today requires high qualifications and serious educational credentials, along with security training.”

  “No need to bite my head off. I was just making a comment, not maligning the gravity of your profession.”

  “Weren’t you?” Summer jammed her cell phone into her pocket and stared at the locked door in disgust. “Speaking of professions, you’re a landscaper. Why don’t you call one of your ground crew to come open the door?”

  “Only me working today.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in unruly spikes. “The rest of my people are setting trees in a new home up north of Monterey.”

  “Just great.” There were other people to call, but Summer refused to start day one of her new assignment with a rescue plea to 911. There had to be some other answer.

  “I’m going up there.” She studied the narrow ledge next to the skylight in the fiberglass roof. “I’ll need a ladder.”

  “All I have is a four-footer.” The gardener shook his head. “But it isn’t safe. I’m not sure how much weight this roof will hold. I can guarantee that it won’t hold me.”

  “There’s no other choice. I’m supposed to be taking care of the girls.”

  Gabe pulled a ladder across the room and rested it against one wall, looking unconvinced. “Are you sure you want to do this, ma’am?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just make sure that this ladder doesn’t tilt and dump me.”

  The roof was higher than it looked, Summer discovered. After climbing to the top rung, she had to stretch onto her toes to find a footing near the skylight. Carefully resting one elbow on the ledge, she prodded the heavy top panel.

  “You need any help?”

  “I’ve got it.” With a dry creaking and a sprinkling of dead leaves, the skylight panel opened. Now Summer had to get outside without bringing the whole shed down on top of them. It was hot with the sun beating down and no breeze, so she stripped off her dark suit jacket, dropping it on the potting bench beneath her. Then she unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt and rolled up her sleeves.

  When she looked down, she swallowed hard. Gabe was pulling off his sweat-dotted tee shirt, revealing a tanned torso dusted with dark hair. Summer saw a scar she hadn’t seen before, just at the center of his chest. “Landscape work must be dangerous.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Your chest and your shoulder.” Summer pointed down. “Scars.”

  Gabe wiped his damp shirt across his face. “Any job can be dangerous. It depends on how you do it.”

  Summer felt the ladder move. “Hey, hold on, will you?”

  Gabe moved closer, one hand on the ladder. The other closed around Summer’s hip.

  He saw her glare and shrugged. “Just making sure you’re safe, Ms. Mulvaney. Give it a shot before we sweat to death in here.”

  Ignoring the hard fit of his fingers across her rear, Summer probed the ledge. When nothing felt shaky, she lifted herself up, balancing on one leg.

  A big gull landed on the roof inches from her head, shrieking loudly, and Summer recoiled without thinking.

  “Easy there.” Gabe’s fingers dug into her hips.

  “Damned bloody bird.” Summer waved a hand. “Shoo. Get away.”

  The big white mass didn’t move.

  “Get going already!”

  After a little squawk, the bird flapped its long wings and sailed back into the air, headed toward the beach. “Crisis averted.” Summer caught a breath and looked down.

  Gabe was behind her, on the ladder now, his body pressed against her. Summer felt the damp brush of his chest on her arm and the flex of his thighs. She’d had some X-rated daydreams before, but this was better than any of them. “All clear. I’m going out.”

  “Be careful. Ms. O’Connor will murder me if anything happens to you.”

  Ignoring the beads of sweat skimming down his gorgeous abs, Summer swung around on the ladder and carefully braced one elbow in the skylight’s ledge. When nothing shook or caved in, she slowly put her whole weight on the roof beam.

  Nothing toppled, always a good sign.

  “That’s the way. Nice and easy.”

  When she pulled herself up and wedged her arms inside the skylight, Summer could see all the way to the house. No one was in sight. “I’m going,” she said tensely.

  “Go. I’ve got you.”

  Summer took a breath and wriggled through the ledge. The process was slow since she had mere inches to spare, and her breasts rubbed against the metal lip of the skylight with every movement.

  “Take it slow,” Gabe muttered.

  Summer was aware of his warm breath somewhere near her stomach. Her shirt had pulled free and when she looked down Gabe’s face was inches from her navel, his eyes hard as he looked up at her.

  Something warm shot down through her body, but she refused to pay any attention. “I’ve got to turn sideways,” she said hoarsely. “There’s a metal ledge outside that I need to reach.”

  The strong fingers tightened at her waist. “Bon voyage.”

  Summer wriggled back and forth, wincing as her breasts caught, wedging her in the tight opening. “Damn.”

  “What’s wrong? Did you see something?”

  “No one’s out there. It’s—I’m caught.”

  “Your shirt? Take it off. I won’t tell.”

  “Not my shirt.” Summer grimaced in pain. “My—chest. This opening is a lot smaller than I thought.”

  “I see.” Gabe cleared his throat. “In that case, it’s your call. If you can’t fit through, we’ll just wait. Imelda’s bound to wonder when you don’t turn up for Sophy’s class.”

  But Summer didn’t take failure kindly. Life had taught her there was always a solution when you looked long and hard enough—and were willing to put up with a little pain.

  “I’m trying again.”

  “Ready down here.”

  Grimly, Summer shoved her shoulder through the narrow opening and turned awkwardly. Her head and neck were through, and then her other shoulder angled up. Next came the hard part as her breasts scraped the metal lip of the panel. Gritting her teeth, she reached over her head, flattened every inch she could, then pulled up until she was halfway out on the roof.

/>   “You okay up there?”

  “I’m fine.” Except for her shoulder, which was aching, and her breasts, which would probably have a few bruises tomorrow.

  “Don’t press it. I want to be sure that roof will hold you, so give it a few seconds before you go any higher.”

  Summer took a deep breath of the sea air racing across the lawn. The man was pretty smart—for a landscaper. And like it or not, there was something soothing about his low, calm instructions.

  Not that she needed any instructions.

  She felt the ladder move slightly and looked down. “What’s wrong?”

  “Not a thing.” His face was cast in shadow below her. “I was just thinking.”

  “If you found a better way to get us out of here, Morgan, I might have to do something slow and painful to you.”

  His smile was a slash of white in the gloom. “I was just thinking about all the things a man could do to a woman from this position.” Gabe’s hands tightened suddenly. Her skirt was now riding low on her hips, and Summer realized just how close his mouth was when his breath touched her naked stomach where the bottom of her shirt had slid open.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said breathlessly.

  “Oh, I think you do.” His breath moved over her skin, hot and moist like the steam from his shower, caressing the sensitive skin below her navel. “You’ve got a great stomach.”

  “Forget about my stomach,” Summer said hoarsely.

  “I’m trying, believe me. But it’s not working.”

  Closing her eyes, Summer was assaulted by a hot vision of his strong shoulders and naked thighs as he’d emerged from her shower. Something fluttered deep in her stomach, just inches away from his clenched mouth.

  The things a man could do to a woman from this position.

  The thought was dangerous, erotic.

  And Summer absolutely, positively refused to think about it. “Too bad, Mr. Morgan. Because I’ll be interested in sex with you just about the time the Chinese give up tea for Gatorade.”

  The problem was, he hadn’t had a woman in almost eight months, Gabe Morgan thought grimly. The second problem was that the woman was too damned close for sanity.

  He was covered with sweat and he had a knot in his left thigh, but he couldn’t let go of Summer Mulvaney’s strong, slender body or she’d fall.

  Hell, maybe he’d fall, too. And over the last year he’d had more than enough problems.

  First he’d double-timed it out for a nasty mission in the Philippines. After that had come the offshore surveillance op in the middle of a godforsaken sea-lane near Borneo. During his second month at sea, a shipboard explosion had tossed him and three others into Pacific currents for two days before a Navy ship had scooped them up. Then had come a HALO accident, when a jump had gone bad. In the hospital, the doctors told him he held some kind of a record for broken bones, and Gabe believed it when he woke up in a big white bed with tubes in four places and his body burning like someone had rammed him through a giant garlic press.

  Six months in rehab had brought him back to seventy percent of his fighting strength, and Gabe was battling for more every day. He only wished he could track down the idiot who’d designed the shipboard ignition wiring that had exploded. It would have been a pleasure to teach him the value of quality control the old-fashioned way.

  With Gabe’s fists shoved down his throat and any other available body parts.

  He touched his knee by reflex and scowled. But he’d get by. That’s what SEALs did.

  His first order of business was to yank his mind out of the pleasant gutter where it was currently wallowing, thanks to the sight of Summer Mulvaney’s flat, naked stomach inches away from his mouth.

  Oh, the things a man could do against an amazing stomach like that.

  Like making that stomach clench hard in sweaty, groaning sex that went on all night.

  Sweat trickled down Gabe’s brow. “It could happen. They’ve got McDonald’s in Peking. Gatorade can’t be far behind.”

  “Back off.”

  “Some of those things could be pretty damned memorable, honey.”

  “Like getting your nose broken by my knee?” Summer muttered. The words were rough, as if she were having trouble breathing.

  Gabe knew the feeling. “That’s one possibility. Of course, with the right woman, a broken nose would be worth it.”

  “Trust me, I’m not the right woman.” Her voice was low and tight.

  Just like her lace panties, only inches away from Gabe’s face.

  “And stop pulling down my skirt.”

  Gabe bit back a sigh of regret at what could have been a major spiritual experience and looked up toward the roof. Mind out of the gutter, sailor. “Don’t blame the skirt on me. And do us both a favor, okay? Get up on the damned roof.”

  “With pleasure.” Summer kicked one leg, smacking Gabe hard in the head. “Sorry. It’s—pretty cramped up here, but I’m almost through.” As she spoke, her ankle flashed down, striking his shoulder. The one that still gave him occasional painful moments.

  Gabe bit down an oath, climbing higher on the ladder. Something about the woman was nagging at him. She seemed efficient, calm. Too calm?

  “You okay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  Her naked stomach twisted, shoved into his face, and Gabe had a mind-blowing impression of rose-scented soap mixed with a faint edge of sweat. “Just get out on the damned roof,” he said harshly.

  Before I tear your clothes off and take you against the wall.

  “I’m trying, but there’s a piece of metal caught in my skirt. Give me a minute here.”

  Gabe closed his eyes as the rose-sweat scent hit him again. It was woman and sex, innocence and eroticism, and the combination went straight to his groin. He winced with the sudden straining at his zipper, and when he opened his eyes, there was a bead of sweat on her stomach. It took a monumental act of willpower not to lick it off with his tongue.

  The straining at his jeans got tighter. “Let me have a look. I’ll get you free.” He had to do something fast.

  Something besides pull off her skirt and see what she looked like naked beneath it.

  “No, I’m almost done. Just one more tug and—” She made a little puffing sound and bucked hard against his hands, one leg digging into his chest.

  “Take it easy or you’ll kick us both over.”

  At least he could talk. For a minute there, with her stomach pressed against his face, Gabe had been sure he’d never talk again.

  “You can stop holding me so tightly.” Summer wriggled against his hands. “Morgan, are you there?”

  “Still here. Just trying to hold you steady.”

  “Well, loosen up, because I’m going out to the roof.”

  Her body rose slowly, and Gabe shook his head when her skirt dipped a few more inches. Maybe this was some new kind of Navy torture. Maybe she was here to test his reflexes, willpower, and mission readiness.

  If so, God help them both.

  Her legs dangled, twisted sharply, then disappeared through the skylight.

  Gabe breathed a sigh of relief and celebrated by reaching down to adjust his jeans a few inches lower.

  Summer inched down the slanting fiberglass roof, her hands slippery with sweat. What if the roof caved in, trapping Gabe? What if she slipped and went flying?

  She forced down the grim possibilities and worked her way to the edge. When one foot was anchored against a wooden eave, she slid down the rest of the way and sat very still, getting her breath.

  She was covered with sweat, but relieved. “Gabe, I’m ready to jump.”

  “Nice work. Be careful.”

  “You bet.” Summer swung her legs out and dropped into a big bush, landing with knees bent, staying loose and moving with the flow of the fall. She crawled out of the plant, brushing leaves and flowers off her head, then pushed to her feet, racing for the door.

  A big piece of wood was shoved through the handles. No wo
nder Gabe couldn’t make it budge. Angrily, she pulled the branch free and opened the door. “This is why we couldn’t get out.”

  Gabe took the branch, frowning. “I’m definitely going to tan those girls’ hides. Are you okay?”

  “Just dirty. I misjudged my fall and landed in some kind of shrub.”

  Gabe pulled a red blossom from her hair. “Dirt looks good on you, Ms. Mulvaney.”

  Summer felt something flutter in her throat as he gently turned the bright flower in his callused fingers. No way, she told herself.

  There wasn’t going to be anything physical between them today or any other day.

  “I don’t want Sophy to miss her class, but they’re going to answer for this latest trick.” Summer shook her head. “As soon as I’m in the car I’ll call their mother and—”

  Gabe’s hand closed around her arm. “Stop.”

  “Stop what? Why should I—”

  “Because I said so.” His voice was low and harsh. “Just do it.”

  chapter 4

  H is fingers tightened.

  Summer’s instinctive protests died when she saw the muscle flash at his jaw. “Gabe, what’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “Don’t move. Not a single muscle.” He was motionless in the quiet room. Dust motes drifted through the filtered sunlight, in air heavy with the pungent smell of damp earth.

  Summer swallowed as he pulled a leather glove out of his back pocket and slipped it on slowly. She forced her body to freeze, her eyes locked on his face, on the single bead of sweat slipping down his forehead.

  His hand rose. In a blur of motion he swept the glove hard across her shoulder and then slapped the wall. When he opened his hand, he blew out a little breath. “Got it.”

  “Got what?” Summer’s heart was hammering like a freeway pileup.

  “The brown recluse spider that was crawling up your shoulder.”

  She closed her eyes, shuddering. “I hate spiders.”

  “This one won’t bother you or anyone else.” Carefully Gabe pulled off the leather glove and shook it on the grass. “Amazing how something so small can be so damned nasty. A friend of mine got bit a few years back, and it wasn’t pleasant.”