The Baby Project / Second Chance Baby: The Baby Project. SUSAN MEIER
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But his gaze was casual, touching the queen-sized bed, the bare dresser, the pale sage club chairs arranged by the window for reading.
After he’d seen everything in the bedroom, his peek into the master bath caused his expression to turn puzzled, and she had no idea why. The vanity was white oak with a glass countertop. The floors were Calcutta marble slab. A separate custom-glass tile shower was utilitarian, but the oversize, extra-deep soaking tub almost caused her to sigh with joy. She could have a bath. A nice long bath to ease away the tension and grief of this long, long day. That tub would be her haven tonight.
He glanced at her then quickly away. His expression was so odd that she peeked into the bathroom again. Her gaze lit on the huge tub and suddenly her face flamed with color.
Of course, a woman saw the tub as a haven. A man saw it as a playground.
Their eyes met and the warm syrupy feeling she’d had when she’d first seen him returned. She reminded herself he was handsome. Reminded herself that being attracted to him made her normal. Even congratulated herself on finally, finally, being attracted to someone again after three long years of mourning her deceased husband. But she concluded with a reminder that she didn’t want to get involved with anyone—ever. She’d never again give another person that much power over her life.
Plus, she had custody of Darius’s baby brother. The little boy whose vote on his board of directors was hers. All this “attraction” could simply be Darius angling to get on her good side so she’d vote his way at directors’ meetings.
Darius rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and pointed at her door. “Since you’re tired and I have things to do, I’ll be going.”
“Oh.” That surprised her. Wouldn’t someone who intended to use their attraction stay? Flirt? Instead, it seemed he couldn’t wait to get away.
Disappointment flooded her, which rattled her. She didn’t want him to be attracted to her, but since he was, having him not act on the attraction was the second-best thing. She shouldn’t be disappointed.
She forced a smile. “Okay. Great.” She headed out of the bedroom too, walking with him through the sitting room.
At the door, he was even more nervous. When their gazes bumped, she knew why. They stood about a foot apart, at the door, saying goodbye. He looked down at her. She gazed up at him. Attraction shimmied between them. The urge to kiss goodbye was like a physical thing. So strong, yet so foreign, it paralyzed her.
For the first time since her husband’s suicide, she wasn’t thinking about her broken life. In fact, it wasn’t even getting half of her attention. His nearness dominated her mind. She couldn’t think beyond the fear that he’d kiss her.
Then she realized she didn’t fear he’d kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. What she felt was glorious, spine-tingling anticipation. Not fear.
Dear God.
Curiosity and confusion combined and rumbled through her. How could she possibly be so attracted to Darius Andreas that she couldn’t ignore it? That she wanted more.
But he didn’t kiss her. He didn’t even try. Instead he grabbed the doorknob at the same time that she did and their fingers brushed. Though she jerked away, the mere touch sent a maelstrom through her. It had been three long years since she’d been married, and for months before that her husband hadn’t been interested in her. She hadn’t been touched by a man she found attractive in nearly four years. Sensation after sensation poured through her, almost embarrassing in their intensity.
Darius quickly headed out the door. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”
The door closed behind him before she could even answer. Knowing it was coming, she quashed her confusing disappointment when it was just a wisp, before it had a chance to fully form, because it was ridiculous. Stupid.
She shook her head. After that little episode by the door, she didn’t have any doubt that Darius was attracted to her. After the way he ran, she also knew he didn’t want to be.
And that was good.
Wasn’t it?
She sighed with disgust at her foolish ambiguity. This weekend was not about an inappropriate attraction. It was about figuring out how they’d raise Gino together, about helping Gino grow accustomed to them as they got to know each other—
Worry gripped her. She couldn’t tell Darius about losing her husband and child without making herself look like an empty, sad, still-grieving woman, who wasn’t ready to help him with Gino. Though part of her knew that was true and she should be honest, the other part warned her to tread lightly with this man. He was rich, powerful. If she showed her weakness too soon, he could take her to court, seeking full custody, citing her incompetence. Then Gino would be raised by him. Alone. And she wouldn’t be able to fulfill Missy’s wish that she love her baby.
She couldn’t let Missy’s son be raised only by Darius. Hadn’t he gotten her into his house and almost put her into a room on the other side of the mansion? He’d have poor Gino in boarding school before he was four.
The thought of sweet baby Gino in a boarding school shored up her defenses and she felt herself growing ready to protect him. She would fight to her last breath before she let him put that child in boarding school—ever. And that wouldn’t be their only argument. She and Darius would have hundreds of fights over the course of raising his half-brother.
That thought caused her to fall to a chair in complete shock. In the confusion of the day, she hadn’t carried this guardianship all the way through in her head. But it was suddenly abundantly clear that whether they wanted it or not, this child bound them forever.
They might as well be married.
Or divorced.
Good God.
What had Missy gotten her into?
Tonight was supposed to have been the night she did her laundry. Instead, here she was in the home of a virtual stranger, with a baby who made her relive the best and worst part of her life and a man she was so attracted to she sometimes couldn’t breathe in his presence.
It would be a miracle if she survived the weekend, let alone a lifetime.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN THE BABY AWAKENED at about three, Darius bolted up in bed. For a few seconds he was disoriented, then he remembered he was in the hideous floral and lace master bedroom of the house in Montauk. By the time he remembered Gino was in the room next door, the little boy’s crying had stopped.
He got out of bed anyway, grabbed one of the pairs of jeans he’d had his staff pack and messenger to the estate and jumped into them. Heading out of the closet, he opened another drawer and snagged a T-shirt.
In a few long strides, he was at the door that connected his room to the nursery. Mrs. Tucker sat in the rocker feeding Gino, who gulped noisily.
He tiptoed into the room, but Mrs. Tucker laughed. “No need to be quiet now. He’s wide awake.”
Leaning against the crib, Darius crossed his arms on his chest. “And by the looks of things he’s starving too.”
Mrs. Tucker snorted a laugh. “They always are.”
“Always? You mean this isn’t an isolated incident? He’s going to be getting up at three every night?”
“Maybe not on the dot, but, yes, he’ll be waking somebody up in the middle of the night every night until he learns to sleep for long stretches without needing a bottle.”
Staring at the dark-haired, dark-eyed little baby, Darius said only, “Hum.” Gino was so sturdy that he looked packed into the green one-piece pajama. His hair sort of stuck up in all directions, making him even cuter.
Gino stopped sucking and Mrs. Tucker set the bottle on the table by the rocker. She lifted him up and he suddenly