She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 252

After dinner, Joyce spent some time teaching the two children.

Little Annie was incredibly gifted.

Landon, on the other hand, had zero interest in art.

He clung to her like a needy puppy, switching between calling her Ms. Croix, Auntie, and occasionally slipping up with "Mommy."

Wilma scooped Landon up into her arms and sighed. "The missus passed away far too young, leaving these two poor things behind. Especially the little one. He misses his mom so much every night. Ms. Croix, I think he's really taken a liking to you. Maybe you could come over more often to keep him company? You don't even have to teach him anything. Just reading him fairy tales or English picture books would make Mr. Sanford very happy."

Joyce felt conflicted.

Earning $600 an hour meant she couldn't just slack off.

But her heart melted for the boy, so she nodded to Wilma. "I'll try to spend more time with him whenever I can."

Wilma beamed on the outside, but internally she fretted. *With a heart that soft, she's going to get completely devoured by Mr. Sanford.* The man had been alone for so long, he was practically a starving wolf, his eyes practically glowing with hunger every time he looked at her. Especially since she was the very woman he'd been desperately missing.

Wilma was both overjoyed and heartbroken for the situation.

But what could she do? The children were here, and Mr. Croix—the man who had saved the missus—was now firmly under Mr. Sanford's thumb.

Wilma was powerless to intervene.

All she could do was treat Joyce as wonderfully as possible.

She prepared a guest room on the east side of the second floor specifically for her.

When Wilma showed her the room, Joyce was caught off guard and immediately declined. "This isn't appropriate."

She was a single woman, and Mr. Sanford wasn't just her employer; he was a widower.

The master of the house's voice drifted into her ear. "What's inappropriate about it? You're Annie's teacher and Landon's tutor. Having a temporary guest room is perfectly reasonable. There will inevitably be days with terrible weather, or times when I have to travel for work. I'll need to rely on you during those moments."

Though Wilma was getting on in years, she knew exactly how to read a room.

She tactfully excused herself.

As the hallway plunged into silence, Joyce's instincts flared, sensing the subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Now, it was just her and Luther alone in the guest room.

—The master of the house.

He stood entirely too close to her, his hand reaching out to push the door completely shut.

At the soft click of the latch, Joyce's heart skipped a beat, her voice trembling slightly. "Mr. Sanford, I should head back downstairs. I need to check on Annie's progress."

A strong, muscular arm shot out, blocking her path.

He leaned his back against the door panel.

His dark eyes locked onto her, intense and unyielding.

His gaze turned explicitly heated, slowly trailing down to rest on her collarbone.

With no memories of romantic or physical intimacy, Joyce had no idea how to handle this kind of predatory energy.

"Mr. Sanford."

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