The Baby Project / Second Chance Baby: The Baby Project. SUSAN MEIER
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a bit then waited a few seconds before he offered it again. Gino latched onto the nipple, and the room became eerily silent. This time he couldn’t blame it on the repercussions of his pushing her into talking about her baby. There was a second elephant in the room and he had to get rid of it, too.
With a glance at Gino to make sure he was still suckling, he said, “I’m also sorry I kissed you. It won’t happen again.”
She stared out the window, saying nothing, and he wanted to groan at his stupidity. Kissing her had been a ridiculous, in-the-moment impulse that he should have thought through. Instead, he’d let his hormones rule him.
But rather than tell him to go to hell, or that he was an immature ass, she quietly said, “How do you know it won’t happen again?”
He had no option but the truth. “Because it’s not a good idea for either of us. We have to spend the next eighteen years dealing with each other as we raise this baby. If we started a relationship that fizzled, one of us would end up angry or hurt and that’s not good for Gino.”
Whitney stared outside though she didn’t actually see anything. It was the second or third time he’d given Gino preference in a conversation. It had surprised her the morning before when he’d said he wanted to be a great dad. But after the way he’d behaved while waiting for the pediatrician—protective, strong—she knew he wasn’t faking it, wasn’t saying these things to make himself look good or get her into his corner. He intended to be a good father to his half-brother.
She peeked over at him. He wore jeans and a baggy gray sweatshirt and looked absolutely gorgeous in a casual, athletic way. His short hair wasn’t exactly mussed; it simply wasn’t combed as it usually was for a day of work, and wisps fell to his forehead boyishly. His typically stern face was relaxed. Neither a frown nor a smile graced his mouth.
She’d kissed that mouth.
He’d held her against him.
She’d faintly felt his heart beating beneath the fisherman’s sweater.
She could have tumbled over the edge the night before, could have done something really out of character, really wrong. But fate had stopped them. He’d said he didn’t want it to happen again, and she believed him. Not just because his first priority was Gino, but because of the conversation afterward. He now knew she came with baggage. She might as well have dressed in dynamite. There’d be no way a man who could have any woman he wanted would go near a woman with her kind of past.
Which was good.
Sad, because she’d finally begun to relax around someone; but good because she’d panicked the night before. She hadn’t known how to stop. She’d gotten in over her head. If Joni hadn’t come in, she could have messed up royally.
Her priority was to uphold Missy’s wishes and to do that she had to be objective. Not get involved with her co-guardian. She also wasn’t ready for a relationship. Burn had hurt her. No, Burn had cost her her ability to trust. As nice as Darius Andreas seemed to be, as good as he clearly wanted to be with Gino, an intimate relationship was a totally different thing. God only knew if he had the ability to have one. And God only knew when she’d be ready to have one.
Glancing at Gino’s bottle, she saw it was empty, and walked over to the rocker. “Here,” she said, easing the bottle out of Gino’s mouth and Darius’s hold. “You have to burp him now.”
Darius sat perfectly still. Didn’t let her perfume affect him. Wouldn’t let himself wonder if her skin was as soft as it looked. Wouldn’t let his mind wander back to the kiss the night before. He’d made a promise of sorts to her that she would be safe in his company, and he intended to keep it.
“Lift him to your shoulder the way I showed you yesterday morning.”
He did as she instructed, but kept his gaze averted. They really were like gasoline and a match when they got too close, and the best way to handle it would be to keep their distance. But if he wanted her to teach him about the baby, that wasn’t possible. His only alternative was simply to control himself.
“Now, pat his back.”
He brought his hand to the baby’s small back and lightly patted twice. Gino burped.
Whitney stepped away. “He’s a good eater and a good burper. That’s usually a sign of a very healthy child. He’ll probably have this tooth in before we know it.”
Relief washed through him and he rose. But once he was standing, he realized had no idea what he was supposed to do.
“Does he go back to bed now?”
Whitney laughed softly. “Let’s hope. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long night. First let’s put some of the gel on his gums.”
Darius winced. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“You’re new and there’s a lot to remember.” She found the gel and gently applied some to the baby’s gums. He spat and fussed, but she persevered.
As she stepped away, Darius asked, “Should I lay him in the crib?”
“Actually, the best thing to do would be for you to stay on the rocker. Position him the same way you had him while you fed him, so that he’s not lying flat but is upright enough that he can breathe more easily, and just rock him until he falls asleep.”
Darius sat and positioned Gino on his lap. “Hey, little guy.”
As he set the rocker in motion, Whitney leaned against the crib. “Don’t talk too much or he’ll never go back to sleep.”
“What should I do?”
“Just keep rocking him.” She smiled. “You could also sing him a lullaby.”
Darius winced. “Yeah. Not in this lifetime.”
She laughed. “Eventually, you’ll sing. Everybody does.”
“Not me.”
“Just wait. The day will come when you’re desperate and you’ll sing.”
Chuckling softly, Darius shook his head.
In a surprising move, Whitney pushed off the crib and stooped down in front of him. He noticed that she didn’t touch either him or Gino, but she started to sing.
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Papa’s going to buy you a mocking bird …”
Her voice was soft, lyrical. Gino blinked his heavy eyelids and rolled his head to the side so he could look at her.
“And if that mocking bird don’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns brass, Papa’s going to buy you a looking glass. If that looking glass gets broke, Papa’s going to buy you a billy goat.”
As if by magic, Gino’s eyelids drooped. Whitney’s voice softened even more, and she slowed the song, as if lulling him to sleep.
“If that billy goat won’t pull, Papa’s going to buy you a cart and bull. If that cart and bull turn over, Papa’s going to buy you a dog named Rover.” Her voice softened again, the words she sang slowed to a hypnotic pace. Gino’s eyelids drooped until eventually they stayed shut.
Her song finished, Whitney rose. She nodded at Gino. “He’s asleep.”
Mesmerized by the sweet expression on her face and the casual way she’d lowered her voice and softened the song to lull Gino to sleep, Darius only stared at her. “He is?”
“He is.” She headed for the door. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Darius rose and put Gino in the crib. Sadness seeped into his soul. He’d bet she’d been the perfect mother.
Sunday morning, when Darius heard Gino cry, he popped up in bed again. He jumped into the same jeans and sweatshirt he’d worn the night before and raced into the nursery just as Mrs. Tucker