Chapter 1

It is always, I think, rather unusual for one to lust after one’s babysitter. Not that she was my babysitter, babysitting me when I was small--but she was MY babysitter, the girl who looked after my children for me when I needed her to.

Let me tell you how it all began.

It was a late night, and raining outside as well, sheets of it dashing against the windshield in the dark night as the wipers moved furiously back and forth in an effort to clear my vision.

Almost home, I reminded myself. Not so far now. It was only about five minutes to the house from where I was, and I would be very glad to get home. I glanced at the clock on the radio--12.34 am. Good grief. Esther couldn’t possibly still be up with the kids. They would’ve been in bed ages ago.

Yet, when I pulled into the driveway, a soft yellow glow came from one of the windows. Someone was definitely still awake.

Taking my briefcase in hand and jumping up the stairs two at a time, I unlocked the house quietly and came in. Everything was quiet, at first, until my ears adjusted and I was just able to make out the softest, quietest sound of a lovely melody.

‘Esther?’ I whispered, as loud as I could (and still have whispered), kicking off my dress shoes and padding in on sock feet. ‘Esther?’ There was no reply, and no wonder. If she was in bed, or with one of the kids, they’d be on the whole opposite side of the house.

I found her in the guest bedroom, dressed in cosy pajamas and an old hoodie, with little Madeleine cradled in her arms. Esther hadn’t heard me approach, and so for a moment, I simply watched them together through the open door. Esther was in three-quarters profile to me, her face tipped down to gaze adoringly into the baby’s face. A soft song came from her lips; one I didn’t recognize, but obviously a lullaby. Esther held a bottle in the other hand as she fed the child.

Reluctantly, I stepped into the room, breaking the spell. Esther heard me and looked up, surprised and a little startled, but her expression quickly became friendly again, a soft smile of greeting for me on her lips.

‘Esther.’

‘Yes, Mr Thornton?’ She said back, softly. ‘How was your trip?’

I gave her a tired smile. ‘Productive, at least. Tiring, but successful. I’m glad to be home.’

‘I’m sure the boys will be thrilled to discover that their daddy’s home in the morning,’ she replied with a gentle smile.

‘How has Madeleine been for you?’ I asked her, coming to sit beside her on the bed. The baby looked pleasantly flushed and soporific, having finished what she wanted of her bottle and become sleepy.

‘Oh, wonderful,’ Esther said.

I had two boys of my own--Madeleine was my sister’s. She was a single mother and had asked last minute if I could babysit, so she could go on a overnight conference trip for work, and, thinking I could, I had accepted. I had gotten a late call to attend an emergency meeting at my firm in the city not long after Madeleine arrived. I had phoned Esther immediately. Ever the trooper, she had agreed to come over without batting an eyelash, even though I hadn’t been sure when I’d be back--I could have been the entire weekend, for all I had known. Yet, she had been willing to sacrifice it happily for the caring of my children, and a baby to boot. A seventeen-year-old happily giving her weekend up entirely for children.

‘She was just a little hungry,’ Esther continued, smiling down at the baby. ‘Weren’t you?’ She cooed, and then she turned back to me, still smiling. ‘I think she’s a night owl, Mr Thornton.’

‘How many times have I asked you to call me Tristan?’ I chided her teasingly, holding my arms out to receive my small niece. She fit into the crook of my elbow perfectly. It had been six years since I’d held a baby, not since Patrick was small. I had hoped for more children, more babies ... but that was before the divorce, and with work so time-consuming, there was little time to culture a new romance, let alone interest in doing so. Besides--a single father with young children? How many women would willingly want to involve themselves in such a circumstance?

‘Sorry ... Tristan,’ Esther amended. She passed me the bottle. ‘I think she’s done, but you can try, if you want to.’

I did, and to my delight, Madeleine latched onto the bottle eagerly.

‘You’ve obviously been wonderful with her,’ I commended Esther, adding, ‘As always.’

Esther shrugged, smiling. ‘She’s very well-behaved.’

‘You’d say that about the worst problem child. I know you would. And somehow, they’d be hanging onto the back of your sweater, the perfect docile creature at your every word. You’re a child-whisperer. Must be.’

Esther laughed. It was a lovely, sweet laugh she had, completely earnest.

‘That’s very kind of you, Mr Thorn--Tristan,’ she said, at my look.

I passed the baby back, and Esther fit her in her arms as if she was meant to be there. Reflexively, Madeleine reached out one tiny hand and grabbed onto a fistful of Esther’s chocolate brown curls. Laughing, Esther pushed the hair over her shoulder, only to have Madeleine grasp her breast through the sweater.

‘Goodness, I just fed you,’ Esther said, unsurprised, this was clearly not the first time it had happened (my sister breast-fed her). But the teenage girl simply gently detached the baby’s hand, giving Madeleine an Eskimo kiss, making the infant laugh--but suddenly, I was seeing Esther in my mind’s eye with one breast exposed, a baby suckling at her nipple, a baby with the blue of my eyes and Esther’s chocolate curls. Or maybe it would have Esther’s liquid amber eyes and my straight blonde hair...

‘Tristan?’ Esther was saying. She was looking at me in a way that made me suspect she’d said my name several times before I’d shown any sign of response.

‘Oh, yes?’ I said quickly.

‘It’s very late,’ she said. ‘Can I stay here after all, even if you’re home? I think it would just be easier. I won’t expect any extra pay or anything, don’t worry.’