The Daddy Coach

By Karen Muir

Hoping to vindicate her brother, botanist Gina Dunn poses as a nanny to the man she believes framed him. Even though she grew up in a dysfunctional home, how hard can it be looking after twin four-year-old boys? If she can nurture rare orchids, surely she can handle this.

Instant fatherhood hits contractor Will Sinclair hard when his twin sons he didn't know existed come to live with him. The rebellious boys reject Will as their real dad, forcing him to turn to Gina, his new nanny, for her "expert" help.

Interacting with Will and his boys as a “daddy” coach, Gina starts to crave the family she's always longed to have. But Will's reaction when he learns of her deception isn’t her biggest fear—one of two men she loves is lying…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Sep 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781640638570

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Acknowledgments

About the Author

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2019 by Karen Muir. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

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Bliss is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Candace Havens

Cover design by Bree Archer

Cover photography by pixdeluxe/GettyImages

ISBN 978-1-64063-857-0

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition September 2019

Dear Reader,

Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

xoxo

Liz Pelletier, Publisher

To Marv, Mike and Joe

Family Means Everything

Chapter One

Parked in the shade of a sprawling maple tree, Gina Dunn studied the home of her quarry. The two-story white house sat on a quiet Seattle cul-de-sac. A concrete walk bisected the lawn and led to a porch flanked by pink rhododendrons. Tall backyard cedars stirred in the breeze as a robin burst into joyful song. Gina’s stomach knotted at the cozy scene, so warm and welcoming at first glance. But so deceptive. The man living here had sent her brother to prison.

Frowning, she checked her watch. Twenty minutes early for her interview. Would that make a good impression, or seem too eager? Her hands tightened in her lap. She had to get this job. For support, she grabbed her cell phone and called her best friend, Meg. "I’m here, and please, do not roll your eyes."

A groan sounded in her ear. Big mistake. Your wacko scheme calls for an audacious actress like me. Not a scholarly botanist like you.

A wisp of cool air brushed Gina’s cheek from her open side window. This is a bold rescue mission, not a wacko scheme, and I have to try. Kyle’s locked up with a bunch of criminals.

"Kyle is a criminal according to the state of Washington. Has it occurred to you he might be exactly where he belongs?"

Gina scowled. Whose side are you on?

Yours, of course. I just don’t want to see you hurt.

I’ll be fine. Wish me luck.

Meg sighed. Break a leg.

Too tense to wait longer, Gina pushed out of her car and approached the house, her new affirmation playing in her head. I am a skilled nanny, a no-nonsense Mary Poppins. Warm and fuzzy, yet firm, and always in control.

She mounted the porch steps soundlessly in her thick-soled walking shoes then paused to assess a toy chest stuffed with battered trucks, scuffed roller skates, and a one-eyed teddy bear. Topping the stack was a Mega Monster squirt gun that bore an alarming resemblance to an Uzi. Boy toys. No Barbies or tea sets. Her instincts yelled, "Run!" But Kyle was in trouble and had no one but her. It had always been that way.

She wiped her damp palms on her loose denim jumper and rapped on the door. A long moment passed, and she checked her watch again. Too early and too anxious, but now she was committed. Through the door, she heard approaching footsteps and a masculine grumble that sounded like a curse. The door swung open, and she found herself standing toe-to-toe with a tall, frowning man.

Her breath hitched as she stepped back from Will Sinclair, a former Husky quarterback who’d led his college football team to bowl game victories. The internet photos she’d studied had failed to convey his muscular build and formidable air. The glint in his eyes said he was having a bad day. You’re Gina Dunn.

Her throat tightened. Yes.

You’re early. It was clearly an accusation.

I could come back in a few minutes.

Don’t be silly.

Annoyance flared within her, and apparently it showed, for one side of his mouth quirked. Pardon my bluntness. It’s been a rough morning.

It was then she noticed the wet dishtowel slung over the shoulder of his crisp white shirt. His cuffs were unbuttoned, his tie listing to one side.

I’m Will Sinclair.

He extended his hand, large and callused, yet surprisingly gentle. Awareness swept through her at his touch. Pulling free of his grip, she met his dark gaze. Had he felt the same sensual jolt she had?

Come inside, he said. We’ll talk in the den.

She brushed past him and caught a whiff of his aftershave, a pleasant woodsy scent she found disconcerting. Glancing around the foyer, she glimpsed her reflection in an oval mirror and froze. The blond braid trailing down her back and her thrift-store outfit didn’t capture the comfy, earth-mother image she’d intended. She looked weird.

His bold blue gaze met hers in the mirror, and she stilled at the pulse of male-female chemistry. The foyer grew smaller, and she forgot to breathe. Damn. She didn’t need this complication. Unable to look away, she was struck by the contrast they made. The broad-shouldered warrior with the face of chiseled stone. The prim and slender maiden with wary eyes. Terminator meets Heidi.

You’re not what I expected, he said.

Neither are you. Her enrollment at the University of Washington had overlapped his. But while he’d romanced cheerleaders and hung out with the jocks, she’d studied fern fronds under a microscope and marched to save the whales.

He eyed her a moment longer, then looked away. Watch out for the trucks.

Puzzled, she surveyed the jumble of toys scattered about the hardwood floor. He preceded her down the floral-papered hallway, using his foot to clear a path through the clutter. When a rolling Tonka dump truck smashed into a building-block structure, multicolored bits of plastic flew everywhere.

Oh, hell, that’s Harry’s castle. Will knelt to sweep the scattered pieces into a pile with his hand then carefully placed them inside the damaged creation. Gina handed him a stray yellow piece he’d missed. Was this the caring gesture it seemed?

Hefting the castle into his arms, Will resumed walking. Gina followed him into a sunlit but cluttered room. The shelves to her right held a jumble of books and DVDs, the walnut desktop was buried beneath stacks of file folders, and beyond it multi-paned French doors looked out on the backyard. Gina frowned at the shin-high grass and the large bed of roses half strangled by weeds. Was Will messy and careless? Or overwhelmed and needing help?

He set the battered castle on his desk then removed a loose sheaf of papers from a green upholstered chair and gestured for her to sit. Pardon the mess. I’ve misplaced some kitchen sketches.

Uh-oh. The chink in his armor widened.

Excuse me. I’ll be right with you.

Before she could reply, he walked out the door. His abrupt exit surprised her, yet she welcomed the chance to get her bearings. Will Sinclair did not appear to be the meticulous control freak she’d envisioned. A control freak would never tolerate truck-filled hallways or paper-strewn dens. Only one thing was certain—the man gave off sparks. Remembering her heated response to his touch, she winced. Remember why you’re here. This man framed your brother.

The pungent smell of burned food drifted in from another room, followed by an angry male growl. Great. Will’s bad mood was worsening. Gina drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair. At the sound of running water, she turned her head to identify the source. A washing machine. He was washing clothes.

She breathed out slowly, sensing he needed help. Raising his boys by himself might be more than he could handle. Her chances of getting hired looked brighter.

Hearing footsteps, she braced herself for his return, but he walked past the den and yelled, Ian. Harry. Breakfast is on the table.

She flinched at his booming voice.

Come now. Another yell.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Will’s gruff manner would make her cringe if she were his young child. When he returned to the den, she eyed him warily.

Thanks for your patience, he said, sinking into the desk chair. He folded his hands. Just a reminder, this job is temporary. My parents will finish their mission in Africa soon and be here to care for the boys.

She nodded, glad the job was short-term. She’d do her best with his kids, but she might not last long. Assuming she got hired. She had no experience or skills with children.

Will picked up a sheet of paper before him, and she stared at his hands. I have your letter here.

At his frown, she tensed.

You’ve only taken care of one child, but you’ve done it for a number of years.

Yes. It worked out well. She bit her lip. Her references were thin. And fake.

I spoke to your former employer, Meg Sullivan.

He paused, and she held her breath. Meg had been reluctant to lie for her, until she’d presented it as playing a role.

Ms. Sullivan spoke highly of you.

Hitching her shoulders, Gina tried to relax. Her daughter was a joy to care for. The daughter was actually Meg’s six-week-old niece. Gina had never met her, and she didn’t do kids. Which didn’t bode well for her bold rescue mission.

Was she well-behaved?

Most of the time.

Will’s chair creaked as he leaned back and steepled his fingers. "I have twin sons, Gina. They’re four, almost five, and they are seldom well-behaved. How would you go about disciplining them?"

Glad she’d visited numerous child development websites, she took a breath and plunged in. Children need consistency and a predictable routine, so they know what is expected of them and feel secure.

Will rubbed the whisker stubble on his chin, prompting visions of the prickly feel of it against her bare skin.

So structure and predictability are at the top of your list?

Hmm? She straightened. Uh, yes. If I had a list—which I don’t—structure and predictability would certainly be on it. Focus. You’re rambling.

Children need limits, too. Did that sound too repressive? Reasonable limits, of course. Children also need to be given choices. It satisfies their need to have some power in their lives and reduces the urge to rebel.

His gaze lowered to her mouth. What if they make bad choices?

She swallowed hard. Falling for this hard-bodied schemer would be a really bad choice. Choices always have consequences.

Spankings?

Oh no. A consequence should be a logical outcome of the choice that was made. That works for good choices, as well as bad. Feeling she’d dodged a bullet, she loosened her clenched hands.

Give me an example.

Of course. Her hands re-clenched. Say a child breaks a toy that belongs to someone else. The child should be expected to fix the toy or replace it.

How can he replace it if he has no money?

She paused. Good question. The child can replace the broken toy with something of his own.

Will wasn’t through. What would you do if a child refused to get dressed?

Banish him to his room? Call Dr. Phil? She gripped her knees, her brain scrambling for an appropriate reply. I’d find something he wanted to do and hinge doing it on his getting dressed.

A chill of foreboding crept down her spine. Will’s tough questions would soon reveal her lack of real experience with kids. Her only chance was to wow him with her extensive research. Leaning forward, she began a detailed review of Piaget and the Behaviorists and other child development theories.

Her hopes dimmed when he began fitting pieces back into the damaged castle. She’d lost his attention and quite possibly the job, but she kept up the talk, having no other choice. God only knew what she would do if she actually landed this job. Meg had it right. This was truly a wacko scheme.

…

Will rebuilt Harry’s castle as Gina droned on. Geez. She sounded like she was quoting a textbook. And she hadn’t smiled once. He doubted she’d be much fun for little boys. Ian and Harry would make hash of her abstract theories and have her tied to a tree within minutes.

The way she hid her femininity bothered him, too. Her thick blond hair was cinched back from her face, giving her delicate features a puritanical look. She wore a loose denim sack that hung to her shins. Her shoes were sturdy leather lace-ups, suitable for hiking rugged terrain.

He held up his hand to stem her torrent of words. Thanks, Gina. You seem quite knowledgeable about child-raising strategies. Leaning toward her, he braced his arms on his desk. I’m curious. What do you do for fun?

Fun? Her eyes widened. Well…I read books and spend hours in my garden.

He nodded. Uh-huh. This nice but dull woman would hold his sons’ interest for ten seconds, tops. He was about to tell her thanks, but no thanks when the thud of running feet sounded in the hallway. Here come the boys.

Will quickly set the castle on the floor out of sight then looked past Gina to the doorway. A recent haircut rebellion had left shaggy brown strands all but obscuring his sons’ eyes. Harry was a scowling cowboy in black hat and boots. Who’s she? he demanded, pointing his stick horse at Gina.

Will modeled the courtesy he wanted from Harry. Harry, I’d like you to meet Gina.

Hello, Harry, Gina said.

Her greeting was met with silence.

Say hello, Will prompted.

Harry crossed his arms and clamped his lips shut. Already, they’d reached the first impasse of the day. He let it go. And this is Ian.

Ian was naked except for an oversized white bath towel draped loosely around his lower body. He grinned shyly at Gina then turned sideways, still peering at her as he rubbed a bare foot up and down his shin. She smiled.

Say hello, Ian. Will spoke with little hope. The young boy fidgeted with the precarious towel, then darted across the room straight at Gina. He stopped just short of her, pulled his hand from behind his back, and plopped a sopping wet washcloth into her lap.

She gasped and grabbed up the dripping white cloth as Ian scampered back to the doorway. Will shot to his feet. For crying out loud, Ian. Where are your manners?

His boys were barbarians, in need of an iron hand. He turned toward Gina. Here, let me take that.

Red-faced, she plunked the wet cloth in his hand. She stood, and he noted the large wet spot so unfortunately placed. Boys, come here, he said sternly.

Getting no response, he turned to find the doorway empty. Big surprise.

No harm done, Gina said. I’ll dry off in no time.

She was being a good sport, still she wasn’t the nanny he needed. Before he could say that, he glimpsed movement through the French doors to his right. He turned and saw the boys running across the backyard. Ian had lost his towel as he chased after Harry and was bare-ass naked and shrieking like a banshee. Will turned back to Gina and found her watching the boys with open-mouthed horror. That cinched it.

I need a strict disciplinarian for my boys, Gina, which is why I can’t offer you this position.

She spoke in a rush. The boys need a firm hand. But I’m flexible. I can do it.

He shook his head, surprised at her persistence. It wouldn’t be fair to you or the boys to put you in a situation you couldn’t handle. I’d feel like I’d thrown you to the lions.

I wouldn’t mind. I love a challenge.

Her smile, so clearly forced, left him uneasy. She was too anxious to please, too desperate to be hired. Something felt off. Will was a firm believer in going with his instincts. Sorry, Gina. My decision is final.

…

Lost in deep gloom, Gina closed the front door behind her and walked down the porch steps. She’d gone to such efforts—observing Will’s home and approaching the women leaving it to learn of the nanny job. Researching childhood stages and age-appropriate activities. Twisting Meg’s arm for a reference. All for nothing.

Halfway down the sidewalk a gush of cold water splattered Gina’s back. She shrieked and spun around. Harry stood behind her, his Mega Monster squirt gun cradled in his arms.

Gotcha!

Knock it off, she warned. Kids made her nervous.

He grinned. Can’t get me.

She paused, knowing as soon as she turned her back, he’d douse her again. No big deal. Cool water actually felt good on this hot summer day. Still, Harry shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this behavior.

He sprayed her again,