Jax groaned inwardly and swiveled around in his desk chair to face out the window of his office. {You had to be a good Samaritan, didn’t you? You couldn’t just *ignore* all those blinking lights on the telephone and figure Addie would get to them eventually. Noooooo, you had to try to help her out…..and get yourself trapped in a conversation with the *one* person you didn’t want to speak to this morning…..}

"Jax? Are you there?" The feminine voice on the other end of the line inspired him to close his eyes and grimace broadly. "I *know* you’re there – I can hear you breathing."

"Yes, mum. I’m here." He opened his eyes and leaned forward to gaze out the window at the front entrance to the estate. "What do you want?"

"I’m your *mother*, dear!" Jane Jacks replied in her best guilt-inspiring voice. "Can’t a mother just call her son to ask him how he is every now and then?"

"I’m fine – the kids are fine – we’re *all* fine." Jax’s eyebrows drew together and he leaned forward to peer out the window at the flurry of activity in the circular driveway. "So…..now that that’s out of the way, I really do have some other important calls I should be making….."

"I’m sure you do, dear," Jane replied smoothly. "Which is why I’ll get right to the point….."

"I was fairly sure you had one." Jax spoke under his breath so that his mother wouldn’t take offense at his sarcasm.

"So……you and the children are more than welcome to stop by here for Thanksgiving dinner……Joleen should have the turkey on the table by 3:30 at the latest……"

"Um-hmmmmm……" Jax arched an eyebrow as he concentrated more on his newly-hired nanny and her designer luggage than his mother’s holiday agenda. Based on their brief meeting the day before, he had decided that if nothing else, Miss Brenda Barrett was an enigma. She spoke with all the refinement and breeding of a Continental duchess, yet she was looking for temporary employment as a nanny. The sedan parked behind his BMW appeared to be a rental car, yet he knew that the price of her luggage alone would have been more than enough for a down-payment on something far more elegant than what she was driving. Jax squinted against the morning sun to see his mysterious new employee. Once again, she was wearing a classic suit that reeked of the designer runways. Yet she had her hair pulled back in a casual ponytail, and when one of the groundskeepers said something to her, she threw her head back and laughed as though she were in the corner poolhall on Friday night.

"Jax, dear? Did you hear me?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he spun back to face his desk. "Yes, mum……I’m sorry." Jax glanced back over his shoulder at the temptation in the driveway. "I was just ……distracted."

"Well, it really doesn’t matter. We can discuss all of the details for Thanksgiving when I see you Thursday night."

"Thursday night?" Jax’s eyes widened and he quickly reached for his day-planner. "What’s Thursday night?"

"The Crystal Ball, dear. Addie *promised* me that she penciled it in on your calendar."

"Now, mum, you know me better than that." Jax sighed. "I don’t *do* those kind of social events."

"I *know* you don’t like to attend them, Jax. And normally Roy would go to represent J&J Jacks." A crisp edge in his mother’s voice made Jax grimace. "But since your partner has seen fit to disappear to points unknown, and *somebody* from the firm should make an appearance in our name ……."

Jax rested his forehead in his free hand and closed his eyes again. "I know, I know…….I’m elected." He shook his head and swore under his breath. {If Roy doesn’t surface soon, I’m going to personally hunt him down like a dog and shoot him with a tranquilizer dart on sight.} Flipping through the pages of the day-planner, Jax sighed again. "So, just tell me where I’m going and what time I have to put on the penguin suit ………"

"It’s being held at the Algonquin Club this year, Jax, so I told Ashley you would pick her up at 7."

Jax’s hand flew from his face and he stared straight ahead in mortal terror. "Ashley? What’s Ashley got to do with this?"

"It’s a dinner *dance*, Jax," Jane said tersely. "You can’t very well dance by yourself."

"I’ll dance with *you*." The cold in his voice rivaled Siberia in winter.

"But Ashley is *so* looking forward to it, Jax."

"Fine. Then YOU dance with her." Jax leaned back in his chair again and the springs squealed in protest. "Mother, you *know* as soon as I walk into the Algonquin with Ashley on my arm, every old biddie in the place is going to start talking about ……. about the past."

Even though it had been three years, the rumors still hurt. At first, whenever Jax appeared in public after Miranda’s death, the whispers spread like wildfire. "Have you heard? That’s Jasper Jacks. He killed his wife, you know. And she was such a pretty young thing, too……But with all that money, he just got the police to look the other way."

The talk died down eventually, but on the few occasions when Jax was required to appear at a social function, they started up afresh. Ashley Brent didn’t seem to mind being associated with a possible murderer. She was a tall, willowy blonde with a stunning smile. Her family lived on the same street as Jax’s parents, and together she and Jax made a striking-looking couple. But after spending time with Ashley at several events – "dates" usually orchestrated by his mother – Jax had realized that the only thing that mattered to Ashley Brent was the size of his bank balances. As long as he could spend money like water, she didn’t care if he was Jasper Jacks or Jack the Ripper.

"Jax, I know it’s difficult for you." Jane’s gentle voice brought him out of his painful reverie. "But you really need to start getting out again. I mean, you know that losing Miranda was just as difficult for your father and I as it was for you and the children….." Jax didn’t doubt his mother’s sincerity. Miranda and Jax had grown up together. She was at their house so often, she was almost like a daughter to Jane Jacks. Miranda hadn’t cared if Jax had two sticks to rub together when she married him. Truthfully, even when he had become an affluent businessman, the money never seemed to matter to her.

"I know, mum," Jax sighed. He glanced towards the small, framed photo of Miranda on the corner of his desk. "It’s been difficult for all of us…."

"But I’m sure that if she could speak to you, Miranda would tell you it’s time to start living life again, Jax. You can’t just lock yourself up in that mansion of yours and never let yourself love again. You’re a young man, and you….." Jane Jacks paused delicately. "Well, you still have needs….."

Jax suddenly bolted upright in his desk chair. If there was *one* thing he wasn’t about to discuss with his mother, it was his sex life or lack thereof. "You know, mum, Addie’s really been swamped trying to handle all of these phone calls since Roy disappeared. I should try to catch a few and spell her."

"OK, OK, I get the message." Jax could almost hear his mother’s pout through the phone lines. "Just promise me you’ll think about it, won’t you dear?"

"Right, mum – I’ll think about it." Jax leaned forward as he aimed the telephone receiver back towards the cradle. "I’ll see you Thursday night. Good-bye!"

The telephone rattled with the force of Jax’s motion when he hung it up. He spun back towards the window facing the driveway just in time to see Brenda supervising the groundskeepers who were carrying her luggage inside the front door. When she threw her head back and laughed again, her upper body arched just enough that her breasts were clearly visible pushing against the tailored jacket of her suit.

Jax chuckled to himself. {Wouldn’t *that* have gotten Lady Jane’s undies in a twist? "Oh, you needn’t worry about me, mum! I’ve been satisfying my "needs" fantasizing about the new nanny I hired yesterday!} But as he continued to watch until the front door closed behind Brenda, he began to wonder just how much of a "fib" it would have been.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Oh……my…….Gawd……."

Brenda spun around quickly to see Lissie standing in the open doorway to her bedroom. She was in the midst of unpacking and getting settled in and never gave a thought to closing and locking the door. Despite the teen’s look of shocked disgust, Brenda smiled at her warmly. "Good morning to you too, EJ."

Lissie walked over to the bed while Brenda slowly and deliberately shook the wrinkles out of a cranberry silk blouse and then reached for a hanger. "You came back! You actually decided to take the job after all!"

"Yes, despite your best efforts to scare me away, I decided to accept your father’s most generous offer." Brenda walked over to hang the blouse in the large walk-in closet and then returned to the bed where her open luggage was spread. Lissie peered deeper into the suitcase as Brenda pulled out a pair of dove gray raw silk trousers and matching blouse. "I didn’t see your father when I came in this morning," Brenda added, giving the blouse a brisk snap before placing it on a hanger.

"No……" Lissie’s mouth was open so wide Brenda was afraid that flies would take up permanent residence. "He’s probably in his study planning some mega-merger business deal that will bankrupt several third world countries." She shrugged and pouted pointedly. "After all, what good is a billion when you can have a trillion?"

"Sarcasm isn’t attractive on such a young person, EJ." Brenda arched a knowing eyebrow at Lissie. "Frowning too much creates unattractive wrinkles around the mouth, you know."

Lissie ignored Brenda’s suggestion and the dour expression on her face remained unchanged. "So – since you took the job, does that mean I get to ask you some more questions?"

Brenda stifled the grin that threatened to erupt. "Of course." She suddenly lowered the hanger she had been using for a cobalt blue satin moire robe. "But the same terms as yesterday apply – I can’t guarantee you I’ll answer *all* of them."

Lissie shrugged. "Fair enough." She watched Brenda with a keen eye as she hung up the robe and came back to the suitcase for more. "So……are you some kind of model or something?"

Brenda’s hands froze in mid-air just as she was about to shake out a pale pink, long-sleeved charmeuse blouse. "Why do you ask?"

"Hey – that’s not fair!" Lissie pointed at Brenda angrily as she perched on the side of the bed nearest the open luggage. "You can’t answer a question with a question!"

"Why not?" Brenda suddenly dissolved into giggles again and the corners of Lissie’s mouth curved in spite of herself. "Anyway, I’m *not* a model, but I’d still be curious to know why you would think I was."

"Simple." Lissie reached into the suitcase and picked up a short black cocktail dress. "You’ve got all these fancy clothes – not even *one* pair of blue jeans. Now, I’m no Einstein, but I don’t exactly think you’d be taking a job as a nanny if you could afford this kind of stuff. So, I figured you must get it wholesale or something – like those models do after they’re in the fashion shows."

Brenda felt the pit of her stomach drop down to her ankles. She had gotten fairly adept at doing undercover detective work in the search for Albert, but never had to match wits with a hormonal teen before. Her wardrobe certainly *wasn’t* apropos for a nanny candidate. "Well, you’re not *exactly* right, but you’re on the right track," she said, snatching the dress out of Lissie’s hands with a smile she hoped didn’t look forced. "I’ve got a very good friend who wears the same size as I do that’s a model, and she gives me a lot of things after she wears them on the runway."

"Cool." Lissie’s accepting nod and the look on her face made Brenda want to dance for joy. "So then, my next question is……." Lissie stopped short as Brenda reached into the suitcase and pulled out a handful of lingerie. "Oh, never mind. You just answered it."

Brenda frowned down at the bras in her hands. "I thought we already straightened that out yesterday…." She leaned towards Lissie. "They’re real, remember?"

"No, no," Lissie demurred, waving a hand at Brenda. "I wasn’t going to ask you about your boobs again. I was going to ask if you had a boyfriend or something, but I can already see that the answer is no."

"Really?" Confusion was still obvious on Brenda’s face. "How can you tell that just from my underwear?"

Lissie hesitated a few seconds and then broke into loud laughter. "Oh, don’t have a cow! I didn’t think you were a three-pronged plug or something!" Brenda exhaled in relief and Lissie nodded towards her lingerie again. "It’s just that all your underwear is………well, it’s white."

"So? What does *that* have to do with anything?"

Lissie shrugged and rose from the bed to walk behind Brenda and snatch a bra out of Brenda’s hands. "No woman on the make for a man *ever* gets to first base wearing white underwear."

"Really?" Brenda sat down on the bed as Lissie held the bra up in front of her chest as though she were considering putting it on. "That’s a fascinating theory. Do tell me more."

"Well, suppose you and old Jasper were having a late night supper….."

"Old Jas……" Brenda interrupted Lissie but then her eyes widened in shock. "You mean your father?" She patted her chest in shock. "Lissie, your father is my employer! I would *never*……."

"Oh, get over yourself!" Lissie threw the bra down and crossed her arms in disdain. "Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t think about old Jasper’s butt even *once* since yesterday?" Despite her best efforts to suppress it, a slight pink hue colored Brenda’s cheeks. "Uh-huh – I thought so." Brenda stared down into her lap guiltily. "Anyway," Lissie went on, "imagine you and old Jasper are having……" Brenda narrowed one eye and Lissie amended her theory. "……a glass of milk and a bologna sandwich together one night in the kitchen when he comes home late from the office." Lissie suddenly grinned conspiratorially and sat down on the bed next to Brenda. "It’s late, and the whole mansion is dark except for that big light right above the kitchen table, and suddenly when you look into his eyes, he’s hungry, and it’s not just for bologna and mayo."

Brenda swallowed hard as she realized she had had more than one dream about just such a scenario the previous night. "Go on. I still don’t see the underwear connection."

"Well, just imagine that old Jasper gives you one of those smoldering looks and then asks if there’s anything he can get for you – or *do* for you!" Lissie giggled and re-crossed her legs yoga-style on the bed next to Brenda. "Well, you’d *love* to tell him *exactly* what you’d like him to do with those big, strong hands and long, lean fingers of his, when it suddenly occurs to you that you’re wearing some old institutional white bra that looks like a nun wore it in a former life."

Brenda shrugged her shoulders. "All right – I’ll bite. What difference does that make?"

"All the difference in the world!" Lissie held her hands out to the side and then gestured broadly. "It makes you feel completely sexless – inadequate, boring, inferior and not even remotely pretty." Then a wicked smile lit Lissie’s face. "Now, if you were wearing a chartreuse velvet bra, on the other hand……."

"Chartreuse velvet?" Brenda could barely contain her laughter.

"Or a hot pink paisley satin panties – I LOVE hot pink paisley!" Lissie squealed. "Now if you were wearing *that* kind of lingerie….." She winked at Brenda and lowered her voice. "Well, before you could say Oscar Meyer, you and old Jasper would be *doing it* on the butcher block table in the middle of the kitchen!"

"EJ!" Brenda jumped up off the bed as though she had been burned.

"Well……." Lissie remained nonplussed. "You know old Jasper is probably getting pretty horny by now. Beings mom died three years ago and he probably hasn’t had any since……"

Brenda scooped large handfuls of lingerie out of the suitcase and carried it towards the dresser, trying to ignore the direction of the conversation. "I hardly think your father’s sex life is any of your business, young lady," she pronounced. As soon as her back was turned to Lissie, Brenda bit on her cheek and winced. {Good grief, she’s probably right! Not only do you *wear* lingerie like Sister Mary Agnes Catherine Xavier Cabrini, but you SOUND like her!!}

"Well," Lissie sighed, "whether or not old Jasper is getting any or not sure seems to be on my grandma’s mind." Brenda straightened up and frowned at Lissie in confusion, but the teen was too immersed in her own thoughts to see it. "And probably on old "Trashley’s" mind, too."

Just as she inhaled to ask who "Trashley" was or why "grandma" would be worried about Jax’s sex life, the housekeeper knocked delicately on Brenda’s open door. "Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth, but Miss Cassandra is at the front door inquiring if you would like to play some tennis."

"Casey’s here? Cool!!!" Lissie jumped up off the bed and waved at Brenda as she left the room in a whirlwind. "Later, Brenda," she called. "Nice chatting with ‘ya!"

Brenda stood open-mouthed as she was once again alone in the room. She walked gingerly to the door, checked to make sure the hallway was empty, and then closed and locked it. Then she went to the phone next to her bed and determinedly punched in a series of numbers. "Jean Paul?" She smiled when a delighted male voice echoed in her ear. "Yes – I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer at your wonderful hotel, too." She twirled the telephone cord in a flirtatious manner. "But if you *really* want to make it up to me, you could be a dear and send me a few things that I need from that *delightful* little boutique of yours in the lobby……" Brenda smiled and pumped her fist in victory at the response she got. "Terrific! Now these are the things I need – and then if you could just fling them in a cab and have them delivered to this address, I’ll be *forever* in your debt……."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two hours later, Brenda emerged from her room. She closed the door behind her and then rubbed her palms nervously on the leg of the stone-washed blue jeans that had been delivered by cab. Her travels in search of her brother had taken Brenda across several continents and through some of the most exclusive haunts of Europe’s rich and famous. She had learned to keep her ear to the ground and investigate every possibility, no matter how slim. But she obviously had never mastered the fine art of going undercover. Lissie discovered the chinks in her armor just by watching her unpack.

But Jean Paul had come through for her like a guardian angel. Exactly 52 minutes after Brenda had hung up the telephone, the guard at the gate of the Jacks estate announced that a cab had arrived for Miss Barrett. She had tipped the cab driver extravagantly and then raced back up to her room to open the package containing four pairs of new blue jeans – 2 stone-washed, 2 traditional dark denim. After smoothing the hair that had escaped her pony tail and donning a crème-colored, long-sleeve charmeuse blouse, Brenda tied up the shirt-tails below her breast and ventured out in search of her charges.

She hadn’t gone far when Brenda ran into the housekeeper, who advised Brenda that Miss Elizabeth was playing tennis with Miss Cassandra and would be occupied for several hours. When Brenda inquired about the whereabouts of Scott, the housekeeper vaguely gestured down a long hallway and mentioned something about the "playroom."

The sounds coming down the hall gave Brenda her first clue that she was on the right track. Even 25 feet from the open door, she could hear the sounds of dogs barking and happy music playing. When she peeked into the room, Brenda spied the source of the noise – a large-screen TV and VCR. The featured film was – of course – "101 Dalmations."

Brenda entered the room slowly. If the movie was still playing, Scott couldn’t be far away. She froze in her tracks and then detected just the slightest of movement coming from behind the heavy satin draperies at the far end of the room. {That figures. He’s still too shy to come out and meet me. He doesn’t have his sister’s tough exterior – but that’s only natural, considering he’s so much younger.} Narrowing one eye when inspiration struck, Brenda pursed her lips and gave a loud whistle.

Gratification was immediate. A blonde head poked out from behind the draperies. Scott’s blue eyes shown with a combination of little-boy mischief and awkward trepidation at meeting his new nanny. Brenda smiled inwardly as she fingered the object she held behind her back – her other purchase from Jean Paul’s boutique.

"Is that Scottie I see hiding behind those drapes?" she asked in a loud voice. The head disappeared. Brenda squeezed her hand and a loud squeak echoed from the corners of the room. The head immediately re-appeared, Scott’s eyes wide with curiosity.

Brenda managed to keep from smiling at her success in intriguing the little boy. "Hmmmmm……." She sauntered casually over to a chair halfway between the drapes and the door. "I’ve always heard that frisky little things like you enjoy playing with new toys……" As Brenda sat down, she brought her hand from behind her back so that Scott could see what she was holding. It was a rubber squeaky toy – a pale pink bunny that she had noticed one day while window-shopping in the hotel boutique. Scott inched out from the drapes and when Brenda squeezed it again, his eyes got as large as saucers.

She sighed dramatically and stared down at the toy, ignoring Scott for the moment. "Ohhhhhh, me………how I *wish* I had someone to play with…….." It was all the invitation Scott needed. He bounded towards her on all fours and would have bowled the chair over if Brenda hadn’t held her hand out to him at the last moment. "STOP!!"

It reminded Brenda of a Road Runner cartoon where the bird squeals to a stop in a cloud of smoke. Scott only had eyes for the toy. Brenda squeaked it again he pounced for it, only to have Brenda pull it out of his reach. "No – you have to prove that you deserve a new toy."

Scott tipped his head to the side and Brenda could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "First – sit," she commanded. After a few seconds, Scott relaxed back on his haunches, his chest straight and proud. "Very good," Brenda crooned. She smiled lovingly at Scott and then held the toy out to him. He grabbed for it with his hands and then rolled into a little ball on the floor, clutching it to his chest happily.

Brenda sat and watched him for a while, but then she caught her breath when he rolled back to an upright position and deposited the toy at her feet. He looked at her inquiringly, and then nudged the toy forward with his nose, almost as if to say – "Play with me, please."

She was surprised that there wasn’t a bloodstain all over the expensive carpet in the playroom – from her broken heart. {This little boy has been through so much pain in his young life. And here *I* am – with no experience at this "mothering" thing at all – trying to help him past his fears. Can I really do this?} As she watched his eager face, she took a deep breath. {Should I see how much he’ll really trust me? Might as well go for broke.} She opened her arms and patted her lap with her free hand. "Now I remember that when I was young and had a puppy, there was nothing he liked better than a hug when he did a good job. Can you come up on my lap so I can give *you* a hug?"

Brenda held her breath for what seemed like hours. But after only about a 20-second deliberation, Scott leaped up onto her lap and nestled against her chest, the toy still in his grasp. As she gasped and tears came to her eyes, Brenda wrapped her arms tightly around him. She lay her cheek on his soft blonde hair and inhaled the wonderful scent of baby shampoo and little boy. "Ohhhhhh, this is sooooo nice," she murmured, raising one hand to stroke his head tenderly. To her joy, Scott settled even closer to her. He almost seemed to relish the cuddling.

The two imposters sat for a few minutes in silence, boy/dog and princess/nanny, each just enjoying the warmth of the other. Then Scott pulled back from Brenda and looked deeply into her eyes. For a fleeting instant, she saw a flicker of something – something that resembled a yearning to be loved and to love in return. But then, just as quickly as it appeared – it vanished.

Brenda fought back the tears that stung the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to push her luck with him, and she could feel Scott’s little body tensing again. "Sooo……." As soon as she relaxed her grip on him, Scott bounced back to the floor again on all fours. He was still smiling and loudly pressing on the squeaky toy. "Would you like to play with the toy with me?" Scott’s derriere came up in the air as he lowered his chest to the floor and balanced himself on his elbows. "Good!" Brenda reached down and snatched the toy before Scott could react. She laughed loudly at his consternation and teasingly waved it in the air to his delight. "Now – if I toss this over by the window, will you fetch it for me?"

"MISS BARRETT!!! WHAT THE BLOODY H*LL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING??"

Brenda gasped aloud and turned to see an irate Jasper Jacks standing framed in the doorway. His hands were propped on his hips and his face was beet-red with barely-contained rage. "Mister Jacks," she whispered, rising from the chair. "I didn’t know you were standing there….."

"Obviously NOT!!!" Jax’s voice thundered so loudly in the room that Scott yelped in terror. When the little boy dashed behind the drapes again, Jax grimaced and swore beneath his breath.

"Mister Jacks," Brenda began again, walking towards her furious employer. "I just wanted a chance to get to know Scott a little better since it’s my first day….."

"Then get to know Scott the BOY, not Scott the ……..the……." Jax stammered in his frustration and then ran his fingers through his already-disheveled hair. He stared down at the floor to compose himself and then looked up at Brenda again coldly. "As I told you yesterday, Miss Barrett, despite what the doctors and therapists have told me, I prefer to treat Scott as a human, not an animal, in hopes that he will abandon this unrealistic fantasy and become the child that I know and love."

"And as *I* said yesterday, Mister Jacks," Brenda returned in a firm voice, "when Scott feels safe being a little boy, he *will* be again." She moved closer to Jax and lowered her voice. "But right now, he’s feeling confused and terrified at all the change in his life. If this is the only way he feels comfortable communicating with me….."

Jax put up a hand, effectively stopping Brenda’s speech. "I’ve heard it all before, Miss Barrett." He glanced down at his watch and then turned as if to leave the room. "I really don’t have time for your bleeding-heart theories……"

"Then MAKE time!!" Brenda surprised even herself when she reached out and grabbed Jax’s arm firmly. She saw the look of shock on his face and momentarily feared that she had lost the opportunity to conduct her search for Roy DeLucca under Jax’s nose. "I really think this isn’t the place to discuss this," she continued in a whisper, looking over her shoulder at the draperies. A little blonde commando head had been peering out to take stock of the situation for the past few verbal exchanges. "Is there someplace private where we can talk?"

"I don’t think we have……."

"*I* think we DO!!" Brenda’s interruption completely took the wind out of Jax’s sails. He glanced over her shoulder at the place where Scott was hiding and then tightened his lips.

"My office – I’ll give you twenty minutes," he growled. Jax was about to spin around and stride off when he remembered his manners. He stopped short, then stepped back so Brenda could precede him out of the room.

As soon as they were both gone and the room was quiet again, Scott came out of the draperies, still holding his new toy. He scampered to the door and watched his father and nanny’s retreating forms. When he heard a door slam in the distance, the smile erupted on his face like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. He stroked his new toy gently with his fingers, pumped his right arm in victory, and then trotted happily back to plant himself in front of the television and watch Cruella De Ville match wits with 101 of his favorite kind of people.

To be continued…….