The Baby Consultant. Anne Marie Winston
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For some reason, even though her clothing wasn’t painted on or skimpy, she reminded him of a comic strip he’d read as a kid in which a hillbilly girl thoroughly filled out the briefest imaginable clothes. He’d always liked that comic strip.
“How’s Alexa doing?”
Her voice startled him. Good thing she wasn’t a mind reader. As he tried to catch her eye, he noticed that she looked at the baby rather than at him.
“Pretty well,” he said, forcing his mind to make rational conversation. “She has her first cold, but we’re scraping along pretty well together.”
“Lee! You may not hit your brother with that stick!” Deirdre looked over her shoulder at them as she trotted toward her sons, who were now tearing into each other with the sticks. “I’ll be back in a minute, Frannie, and then we’ll go.”
The silence was uncomfortable after she left.
He cleared his throat. Hurry up, Ferris, eat all the humble pie in one big bite. “Look, I’m sorry about the other week. I was a jerk and I don’t blame you for being mad—”
“Hey, Jack! Give me a call.” One of the “groupies” who followed the team patted him familiarly on the butt as she walked by.
He wanted to snarl at the woman to keep her hands to herself and tell her she’d grow old waiting for him to call, but as usual, the manners his father had drilled into him kicked in, and he gave the girl a wave and a smile. “Hey, Iris.”
When he looked back at Frannie, she had a blank, polite expression on her face. “Apology accepted,” she said briskly. But in her eyes, he could see an “I told you so,” and he knew she was marking another tally of condemnation in the column labeled Reasons to Write Off Jack.
She started to turn away, but he grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Great, Ferris, really smooth. Real polite, grabbing her like some ape in a zoo. He suddenly felt stung by the same emotion he’d felt the day she’d practically kicked him out of her store. It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t annoyance. And it couldn’t be hurt, because he’d have to care about her for her to hurt him. But her classification of him as a...a playboy who didn’t care about women had really pushed his buttons.
He’d thought about the encounter every day since then, examining his conscience for twinges of guilt that might identify her accusations as fact. Fact was that he liked seeing women smile, liked knowing he’d made them feel good for a few minutes in their day. Fact was that he never was rude intentionally to the fairer sex, even when they annoyed the hell out of him. Fact was that he honestly didn’t go around seducing women every place he stopped. And fact was that while he’d had his share of liaisons over the years, he wasn’t indiscriminate, and the number wasn’t in double digits, as she clearly believed.
“You’re really wrong about this,” he said. “I’m not some kind of superman with women.”
“I never said you were,” she pointed out.
“Look,” he said. “I hate being at odds with people, and I don’t feel like you’re happy with me, even though you theoretically accepted my apology.”
“There was nothing theoretical about it.”
“Yes, there was.”
“I told you I accepted your apology.” She glared at him.
He knew she was serious. He wanted to be, but it was just too much. Her little chin stuck up in the air as if she were daring him to throw a punch, and her eyes were stormy. Her brown hair was straight and shiny. It framed her face and he found himself fascinated by her lips, as he’d been every time he’d seen her. She looked as kissable as any girl he’d ever met.
“You’re going to accuse me of flirting if I say this, but I swear I’m not. You just look...really, really cute when you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad!”
The charged silence lasted for a long moment. Then, as he raised one eyebrow, her face melted into amusement and she laughed ruefully. “Okay, so I was mad. I’m not now.”
“Good. Friends?” He knew as he held out his hand to shake hers that he was going to have more than friendship from her one day, that he was going to have her in his bed for a long, long time, until whatever magic she worked on him faded and friendship was all that was left. But it probably wasn’t wise to explain that to her right now.
“Friends,” Frannie said.
The diaper bag chose that moment to slide off his shoulder, and Jack juggled Alexa, the bag, his duffel and his stick while he hitched the strap back into place.
She put up a hand to help him, and her fingers slipped briefly over his. Pow. There it was again, that explosion of awareness. He was aware of her in a way he’d never been of a woman before, and when he touched her skin...his own skin did some very interesting things.
When she’d come into his office that first time, he’d noticed she was attractive in a quiet way. He’d been trying to get off the phone from...he forgot the name, but it was a woman he had no plans to call. Ever. And he wished she’d quit calling him.
Frannie had perched sedately on a chair and a bit of leg slipped out from beneath her slim skirt, and his interest had picked up. He had decided to ask her out for dinner if her personality was as nice as her package.
And then she’d dropped those papers and they’d knelt together on the floor picking them up. She’d paused and looked into his face—and the strongest rush of physical need he’d ever experienced hit him like a solid blow from an opponent. For two cents, he’d have taken her right there on the floor. He’d been so astonished he’d just stared at her until he realized he must be making her uncomfortable. He’d never had such a difficult time keeping a meeting on a business footing.
She, on the other hand, had been cool and collected, interested only in what he might come up with to promote her business. She’d walked out of his office and he’d decided to hurry and get the business transaction out of the way so that he could ask her out.
And then he’d gotten a phone call from Florida that changed his life and chased every rational thought out of his head.
What was it about her that hit him in the gut every time she was near? She wasn’t curvy or top-heavy like most of the girls he’d dated, though her legs were nicely trim and her ankles slender. Nor was she blond, another common denominator in his past preferences. She was just... incredibly sexy. Arousing. All of his senses perked up when she got close; his body forgot he was a civilized man. He could almost smell her, although he couldn’t have described it.
Alexa was waking up and he looked down at the baby. His baby. He was beginning to appreciate just how much his life was going to change. He couldn’t ask a woman out right now—what would he do with Alexa? He still hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave her with a sitter. She came to work with him each day, although it was getting more and more difficult as she grew and changed every week.
“Somebody’s getting hungry again,” he said to Frannie.
“Babies tend to do that.” She smiled. Then she hesitated. “Jack, I’ve been meaning to call you.”
Great!
“I’m not going to be able to use your ideas for the brochure right now. The one you came up with would be lovely, but I just can’t swing it right now.”
Deirdre, sons in tow, was advancing across the grass toward them. He couldn’t think. As Alexa began to voice a protest at having to wait so long for a dry bottom and a bottle, Frannie reached out and stroked a finger over one tiny hand before she turned away. “I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”
Three
Alexa had been extraordinarily fussy all day.
Jack paced around the condo with her in his arms as her screams got louder and angrier. What was he