Cattle Baron: Nanny Needed by Margaret Way Page A

another moment to consider. “No, you weren’t.”
    “Heck, Cal, are we going to fall out on our very first day?” she asked wryly.
    His deep laugh, like a chuckle, caught her by surprise. “Amber, you’re not supposed to say silly things like that. I had no idea little Marcus would take to you like you were his appointed guardian angel. We had two good women with lots of experience to help and advise Jan. Like I told you, she drove them away with her flash bang verbal breakouts. They took it as long as they could, then literally flew off. Jan doesn’t have mood-swings, like Eliot once said. She’s in a filthy mood all the time. She takes no pleasure or interest in anything. She gives my uncle a really bad time.”
    Amber had seen enough of Jan’s behaviour to well believe it. Still, she felt compelled to stick up for a deeply depressed new mother. This could and did happen to the best of women. “But surely these are symptoms of PND?” she challenged more disapprovingly than she intended. “The appearance of being out of control, the inability to cope with her baby. Jan’s to be pitied. She’s to be helped. The condition can be quite severe.”
    “And you think I’m blaming Jan for what she can’t control?” He threw her a hard, impatient look.
    “Yes.” Amber nodded emphatically. The first time she’d laid eyes on him she’d thought he was the kind of man who’d have difficulty in getting in touch with his feminine side.
    “And that’s a snap analysis?” was his sarcastic rejoinder.
    “I’m only saying what I believe. I’m a woman, after all.”
    “And I haven’t noticed?” The green eyes whipped over her, increasing her heart rate. “The thing is, Ms Wyatt—”
    “Yes, Mr MacFarlane?” She feigned strict attention.
    “The thing is, Amber, we’ve all lived with it for months now. We thought things would gradually get better. Everyone has been kind and supportive, believe it or not. Even tough old me. I can see you’ve already labelled me a hard-hearted man. No, don’t begin to deny it.”
    “I wasn’t going to,” she said sweetly. “It’s just that you can’t know what it’s really like.”
    “So what do you suggest? I rush out and father a child. See how I go?”
    “You’ll find out eventually,” she pointed out calmly. “I didn’t say I don’t think you’d make a good dad.”
    “But your preference is for sensitive New Age guys,” he mocked. “I won’t at this point mention that wimp, Sinclair. It defies logic that a woman as intelligent as you dedicated herself to such a louse. How the hell did that happen?”
    She gulped in air. “Hey, might I remind you you’re not my keeper? Anyway, you’re not the one to talk.”
    “Of course I’m not,” he agreed. “Maybe one day they’ll isolate the hormone that causes physical attraction.”
    “You’re suggesting they find the antidote? Believe me, it won’t work.”
    “Well, we can save that for another time. There’s nothing to be gained from mooning about the past.”
    “Who’s mooning?” she sweetly asked.
    “You said that as if you meant it.”
    “I do. What about you?”
    “I do the best I can.” He gave her a sideways grin. “As for Janis, Eliot has had loads—and I mean loads —of her favourite flowers flown in. The most expensive flowers ever packed up by a florist, I guarantee. They cost oodles! The bill put even me into shock. Anyway, why don’t we get off the subject of Jan?” He knew he sounded a little harsh.
    “Her problems won’t go away. I do hope Marcus sleeps for your uncle.”
    “Poor little scrap is suffering pretty severe sleep deprivation,” he said, his tone miraculously becoming gentler.
    So it was the mother. Not the child. “I just want to say this.”
    He gave a knowing smile. “Course you do. The investigative journalist. Prize-winning to boot.”
    She ignored the taunt. “Mrs MacFarlane could be feeling very guilty. She could be feeling shame she can’t handle