Upstairs Downstairs Baby. Cat Schield
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With Everly’s business card burning in her pocket, Claire finished her shopping. It had been easier to accept the card and agree to call the attractive blonde woman than to continue to put her off.
Anxiety had eased its grip on Claire once she got in line to pay for her groceries. Really, it was almost funny that anyone could imagine she was attractive enough to catch Linc’s attention. The idea was absurd. By the time Claire exited the grocery store, with a small bag of items on one hip and her daughter on the other, she’d chalked up her encounter with Everly to one of the pitfalls of working for someone in the public eye.
Claire stored the groceries in her trunk before settling Honey into her safety seat in the back seat of her ten-year-old gray Saab. The car had taken her from California to Charleston when she fled with her daughter after Jasper’s parents started threatening her with a custody suit. To obscure her trail and make it hard for them to know where she’d gone, Claire had sold her former car and paid cash for the Saab. A friend had helped by registering the car in his name. Claire probably should’ve ditched the Saab when she reached Charleston, but she felt unaccountably secure after she reached the city.
In an odd way, when she’d exited I-26 and driven south on Market Street all the way into historic downtown Charleston, she’d been overwhelmed by a sense of coming home. Which was ridiculous, because until a little over a year ago, the farthest east she’d ever been was Las Vegas.
During the short drive back to Linc’s house, she shook off the eerie feeling from the odd encounter with Everly. In a town like Charleston, it made sense that most people would feel as if they had some connection to Linc and speculate on the reason behind his abrupt breakup with London.
He was a media darling. Not only was he a famous baseball player, handsome, wealthy and from one of Charleston’s older families, but he was also an active philanthropist, offering his personal and financial support to numerous charities. His innate charisma dominated whatever room he walked into. In short, Linc was a colossal celebrity.
“People make up all sorts of absurd things,” she remarked to her daughter as she unbuckled Honey from her seat and lifted her out.
As soon as Honey’s sandal-covered feet touched the brick pavers of Linc’s driveway, the toddler made a beeline for the kitchen door, leaving her mother to follow more slowly after collecting her bags. In addition to grocery shopping, Claire had purchased flowers and containers for centerpieces. She intended to make those up this afternoon because tomorrow would be reserved for cooking.
“Mama!” Honey’s excited call pulled Claire away from the refrigerator, where she’d been putting food away.
“What, baby?”
Honey’s bare feet slapped the kitchen’s wood floor as she brought her mother a small flat box of a size perfect for earrings. “Blue.”
“Yes, it is. Where did you find that?”
Honey pointed to the center island. Claire glanced over and spied a white envelope. She took the present from her daughter’s hand and carried it back to where Honey had found it. She set the box on the envelope and her daughter immediately protested.
“No!”
“That’s not ours to play with.”
“Mama.” Another thing Honey had inherited from her father was stubbornness. The toddler marched back to the island, climbed up on the nearest chair and once again reached for the present. “Mine.”
As quick as her daughter could be, Claire had learned to be quicker. She scooped up the envelope and present, depositing them into the upper cupboard that held everyday dishes. Honey set her hands on her hips and scowled her displeasure.
Lips twitching, Claire turned her back to her daughter and began making her lunch. It was almost one and her errands had taken longer than she’d expected. Not until Honey sat at the kitchen table with turkey, cheese and apple slices did the two-year-old’s sour expression ease. With her daughter occupied, Claire focused on the centerpiece arrangements. During the two-year period in her life when she’d been attending culinary school, to make ends meet Claire had gone to work for a florist, first as a delivery driver and then as an arranger.
“Nice flowers,” she heard Linc say from the back door.
Claire looked up from her project and spied him entering the kitchen. Her heart gave a foolish little jump. He looked handsome in his navy blazer with the delphinium-blue pocket square that matched his eyes.
“Thank you, but the arrangement is far from done.”
“I like the colors you picked out.” He approached the center island where she was working and selected a stem of pale gold freesia. Setting the horn-shaped flowers to his nose, he inhaled. “This one smells good.”
“I thought the color and shape would go nice with the Golden Forest china. What do you think?”
Although Claire doubted Linc cared which of his three sets of dishes she chose, talking—or babbling, in this case—kept her from doing something foolish, like blurting out the story of her encounter with Everly.
“And the Waterford, of course,” she continued. “Your mother would approve. What do you think?”
She clamped her lips together to shut down the flow of words, all too aware that Linc was eyeing her. Damn that woman in the grocery store for filling her head with thoughts of being in a steamy affair with Linc.
“Sounds like you have everything in hand.” He glanced at the spot where Honey had found the jewelry box and envelope and then surveyed the rest of the kitchen.
When his brows drew together, Claire realized what he must be looking for. “I put it in the cabinet,” she explained, wiping her hands on a dish towel before crossing to where she’d secured the present. “Honey was all over it. We’ve been working on her colors and she noticed the box was blue.”
“Blue,” Honey chortled from the kitchen table, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “Mama. Down.”
“Finish your lunch, baby.” Claire retrieved the box and envelope and extended it to Linc.
“You didn’t open it?” he asked in surprise.
“No.” Claire gave her head a vigorous shake. She’d never step across the line like that. Was that what he’d made of her bout of awkward chattiness earlier? That she’d snooped and felt guilty about it? She placed the gift on the counter in front of him and returned to her flower arranging. “I’d never do something like that.”
“Mama. Down.”
A weird buzzing filled Claire’s ears, distorting her daughter’s voice, as a lazy smile played over Linc’s lips. He set his hand on the counter and leaned in her direction.
“Did you even look at the envelope?”
A lock of blond hair fell across his forehead, lending a boyish charm to his already overwhelming handsomeness. She realized his effect on her had grown stronger lately.
What would it be like to have him close his arms around her and kiss her hard and deep? Just the thought of being crushed between his ripped body and the unyielding kitchen cabinets made her blood heat. She reflexively clamped down on the rose stem she was holding and winced as a thorn pricked her thumb.
“No,” she said, sticking the injured thumb in her mouth. “Should I have?”
“Mama!” Honey was rocking in her booster seat, demanding that Claire release her.
“It’s for you.”
Her stomach dropped to her toes at his sly grin. He’d bought her a gift? Why would he have done that? From his triumphant expression, he was obviously pleased with himself. Despite her lingering discomfort from Everly’s scandalous assumptions, Claire found herself smiling back at Linc with no clear understanding why.
“For me?” In her bewilderment, she sounded