Читать книгу Mother In A Moment: Mother In A Moment / Millionaire's Instant Baby - Allison Leigh - Страница 12

Intriguing. The word kept hovering in Darby’s mind. Annoying her.

She shook out a miniature-size T-shirt, folded it in two and added it to the growing stack on the kitchen table. Between three nine-month-olds and Reid and Regan, Darby had lost count of how many loads of wash she’d done in the past few days.

She didn’t mind, though. Doing laundry was something that an “ordinary” woman would take care of. Cutting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into cute triangles and strips was something an “ordinary” woman would do. An “intriguing” woman would not do those things.

Darby certainly hadn’t done any of those things. Not even the last time she’d gotten entangled with a man and his winsome children. Bryan had had a host of servants and—

She pushed away the thought as she heard the distinctive jingle of keys in the front door. She finished folding the last shirt and stowed the laundry basket in the small laundry room and came out just as Garrett walked into the kitchen.

He dropped several long, cardboard tubes on the table. “Thought you’d be in bed by now.”

She picked up the stack of laundry, catching one of the tubes as it began rolling off the table. Good evening to you, too, she thought. “I need to talk to you. You haven’t been around much.” Talk about an understatement. The man had practically vanished after the first evening Darby had arrived. He obviously worked killing hours, whether it was the weekend or not.

“I’m here now.”

Even though she’d spent hours, days, building up a nicely steaming need to resolve a few things with this man, the words she’d thought, rehearsed, planned, stuck in her throat. It was the jeans he was wearing, she decided. Jeans and a gray T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders in an unsettling way. Up to now she’d only seen him wearing dress shirts, loosened ties and well-cut dark suits.

“You want me to guess what’s on your mind?” Garrett asked after a moment. “Kids doing okay?”

She nodded. He hadn’t shaved, either, she noticed. And he had a dingy piece of gauze bandage wrapped around one of his fingers.

“Nobody sick?”

“No.” Her hands curled at her side. So what if he looked big and tough and tired and had a bandage that was positively raggedy? She’d never seen the appeal in whisker-bristled men, and he was certainly big enough to get himself a clean bandage for his banged finger.

“Well, actually, Tad’s been running a bit of a temp,” she admitted. “He’s cutting another tooth. They’re all asleep, now. I hope you don’t mind, but I took them with me earlier today to visit Georgie.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She has good days and bad. She definitely enjoyed seeing the children. They had fun exploring the house. She has a ballroom. It’s fairly empty, and we just let the triplets loose in there. Bridget’s crawling more. And Keely’s standing all on her own.”

Garrett looked completely uninterested.

“Well, anyway. They’ve been asleep for hours now.”

“That’s good. Isn’t it?” He looked at the kitchen window. The dark kitchen window. “It is late,” he offered.

She ignored the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. His amusement wasn’t appealing. “Exactly. It is late. Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“Okay.”

Her fingernails were poking into her palms. She unclenched her hands. “What arrangements have you made?”

Since the night of her arrival, Darby had talked more with Garrett’s assistant than she had with him. But if Carmel knew anything about Garrett’s long-range plans beyond the hearing—looming ever closer as Wednesday approached—she wasn’t admitting it.

“Getting anxious to leave?”

“I’m concerned about the children,” she said carefully.

“Aren’t we all,” he muttered. “The custody hearing will be here soon enough. If Caldwell has his way, I won’t need a nanny at all.”

“So you haven’t made other arrangements, yet.”

He looked at her. “Have you eaten? Of course you have,” he answered himself. He walked around Darby and pulled open the refrigerator door.

She knew what he saw. She’d finally made arrangements with the nearby grocer to make a delivery that morning when it was obvious that Garrett wasn’t going to do so himself. The refrigerator and cupboards were now well stocked. With the tip she’d added on, the arrangement had only gouged into half of the cash Carmel had delivered to Darby just as Garrett had promised.

Hiring someone to fix the air-conditioning had taken the other half of her pay. But her pay, or lack of it, wasn’t really an issue she cared to get into. Garrett was obviously not made of money—as evidenced by his modest living conditions—even though he’d been generous about her pay.

He pulled out a can of cola and turned to face her as he popped the top and lifted it to his mouth. She looked away as he drank, his long, strong throat working.

Then he finally lowered the can and sighed. “No. I haven’t made other arrangements.”

“But we agreed that I would help you out for only this week.”

“I didn’t say I haven’t tried to make other arrangements.” He finished off the soda and crumpled the can with one hand. “The same problems still exist that existed last week, Darby. You’re my only option. And even if you weren’t,” he added firmly, “you’re my best option. The children adore you. How can you walk away from them?”

“How can you ignore them the way you have been?” The words escaped without thought and she pressed her lips together. She was only the hired help, she reminded herself. Temporary hired help. She’d grown up with “help” all around her, and she knew that there were times when her father considered their input acceptable and times when he hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He pulled out a chair and sat down, legs stretching halfway across the cozy kitchen. “Don’t stand there like that,” he said. “You remind me of the nuns from my elementary school. Except you’re missing the ruler to rap over my knuckles.”

She reluctantly pulled out the chair opposite him and sat. With one hand, he rolled one of the long tubes a few inches back and forth across the table. That dirty bandage of his was going to drive her nuts. “I don’t believe you ever went to parochial school,” she finally said stiffly.

He shrugged. “You’ll hear the rumors sooner or later. I wasn’t exactly a teacher’s pet. I told you before, Darby. People aren’t jumping out of the woodwork to help me out. They’re too afraid of upsetting The Mighty Caldwell.”

“Laura isn’t afraid,” Darby countered. “If she had been, she wouldn’t have listened to anything I had to say about Elise’s wishes. I think you may be exaggerating your—” she hesitated when his eyebrow peaked, then plunged on “—your difficulties somewhat. I’ve found this town very welcoming. And if you just give people a chance, instead of assuming the worst, you’ll be surprised. Nobody here is going to want you to fail with the children.”

He watched her from beneath lazy lids. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and propped his arms on the table, cocking his head to the side. “Are you for real?”

Darby swallowed and leaned back an inch—all that the ladder-back chair allowed. “I just think—”

“You’ll see Wednesday at the hearing what kind of assumptions I’ve been making or not making,” he said blandly. “In fact, once Caldwell finds out that you’ve been helping me these last few days, you’re not going to be on his Christmas list anymore, either.”

“I’m not afraid of your father.” What she did fear was walking into that courtroom on Wednesday. She just hadn’t figured a way of getting out of it.

He lifted one hand. “Call him Mayor or Caldwell or Sir Snake,” he suggested. “But don’t call him my father.” His eyes narrowed. “He hasn’t called here, or been by, has he?”

“No.” Which, when she thought about it, surprised her a little. The children were his grandchildren.

“Good. You don’t need to be afraid of him, even if he does. I’ll protect you from him. Just continue taking care of the kids. I’ll make it worthwhile. Despite the looks of this place, I can afford whatever you ask.”

She shook her head, wondering where the conversation had gone amiss. “You’re as bad as Dane,” she murmured wonderingly.

“Who’s Dane?”

Her lips parted. “I…nobody.” How could she be so careless? She brushed back her bangs and stood. “I can heat up some supper for you,” she offered. “We had fried chicken. There’s still some left.”

Garrett caught her hand as she moved past him, nervous energy seeming to pour from her pores. He ran his thumb over the back of her smooth hand. It was slender and long-fingered. Elegant, he thought. “Nobody?”

“Garrett, please.” She tugged at her hand, but he didn’t let go.

“I know why I’m edgy,” he said. “And I can understand why you might be annoyed with me about not making other arrangements for the fearsome five, but you’re about ready to jump out of your skin. Who is Dane?”

He didn’t know why he was making a big deal about it. If she had a secret or two, who was he to begrudge her of them? He had a whopper of one, himself. And because he did, his conscience needed to know that he was at least giving the kids a caretaker whom they actually liked. One who would stick around awhile. Not be lured off by some guy named Dane.

Darby’s face was pale. “My brother,” she finally said stiffly.

Surprised, Garrett let her go. She wrapped the hand he’d held in her other, rubbing it. He frowned. He hadn’t held her that tightly. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I…we don’t get along,” Darby said, turning away. “Do you want that chicken or not?” She took a plate out of the cupboard, and Garrett saw that her hand was trembling.

Hell.

He rose and put his hands around her shoulders, gently turning her to face him. The sight of her glistening eyes grabbed his gut and twisted hard. He took the plate from her and set it aside. “Hey. I’m sorry. Don’t do that.”

She blinked and averted her face.

He caught her chin and gently lifted. “I know all about family feuds,” he murmured. She looked up at him with those sky-blue eyes, and he clamped down on the heat that suddenly churned inside him. That was the last damned thing they needed.

Then she moistened her lips. Just a nervous, barely noticeable movement, and her soft lower lip glistened.

Ah, hell.

He drew his thumb over her chin. The hint of stubbornness in it saved her face from being perfectly oval. He could feel her pulse beating in her throat; rippling little beats that teased the heavy chug of his own pulse.

“Garrett.” She pressed her palms flat against his shirt, and he could have sworn that he felt the distinct shape of each one of those long, elegant fingers.

“Shh.” His thumb drifted over her lips and her eyes fluttered closed.

Beneath his thumb he felt her lips move. “I don’t know which is worse,” she whispered. “When you’re all cold and distant or when you’re…not.”

“I told you to shush,” he muttered. “Your voice. It’s—”

“Rough,” she finished.

“Husky,” he corrected. Like a brush of velvet over his nerve endings.

She suddenly stepped back, looking anywhere but at him. Her fingertips touched her throat for a moment before she picked up the plate and held it in front of her like a shield. “My vocal chords were, um, injured when I was a kid. I know. I sound like a habitual smoker or something.”

It was good she’d backed away. She had more sense than he did. “You sound like you,” he said. But listening to her talk was an exercise in erotic torture. She said his name, and he nearly lost the ability to reason. And the kitchen still seemed filled with tension.

Tension that he’d caused because he’d let himself forget, for just a minute, that he needed more from this woman than the taste of her lips. He needed Darby for the kids. Without her in his corner, he knew his chances in court against Caldwell were slim. It was only her word, after all, that Elise had wanted him to take her and Marc’s children. His attorney, Hayden Southerland, who had finally arrived from New Mexico, had confirmed it.

Actually what Hayden had said was that the only thing better than an unimpeachable nanny would be an unimpeachable wife. Since Garrett had no prospects on that score, he’d better remember to keep his hands off the one nanny he had in the offing here in Fisher Falls.

Once he got back home to Albuquerque, he’d see about hiring one of Carmel’s aunts; she seemed to have about twenty of ’em. They were all devoted to their grandbabies but Garrett figured once he was back home, he could convince at least one of them that it would be worth their while to watch a few more.

He gathered up the tubes of blueprints from the table. “Don’t worry about the chicken,” he told Darby. “I’ve got work to do, anyway.” Carrying the plans, he headed out of the kitchen for the den.

Just exactly like Dane, Darby thought, watching him go. Her brother would work 24/7 if he could, and it seemed that Garrett would, too.

She quietly prepared a plate, heating the chicken in the microwave before adding a gelatin salad and a buttered roll. Garrett didn’t particularly look the type to eat orange gelatin with bananas inside it, but Regan had helped Darby make it that afternoon, so that’s what he would get. She poured a glass of milk, prepared everything on a tray and carried it, along with the small first aid kit from beneath the kitchen sink, to Garrett’s den, turning off lights as she went.

He hadn’t exaggerated about the work, she realized when she stepped inside the small room. He’d unrolled some blueprints across his desk and was thoroughly focused on them. She set the tray on the small table next to the couch that he was supposedly unfolding into a bed each night. Frankly, she didn’t see how he could. The room was simply too cramped.

“Let me see that bandage.” She flipped open the first aid kit on his desk and held out her hand.

He looked at his hand, as if surprised to see the sloppy bandage still circling his finger. “It’s nothing.”

“The bandage is dirty. Whatever you’ve done, you wouldn’t want it to get infected, would you?” She wriggled her fingers, demanding.

His expression unreadable, he held up his hand and she unwrapped the tape and gauze, making a face at the cut beneath. “I thought you told people what to do at that construction company you run, not that you were out pounding nails with your own bare hands.”

“Wasn’t a nail.” He didn’t flinch as she cleansed the cut. “I was helping to install a window. It dropped. Made a helluva mess.”

“Made a pretty good cut, too,” she murmured. “You know you probably should have had a stitch or two.” She closed the edges with a butterfly bandage, then topped it with a cushy sterile pad.

“I was too busy getting on the horn to order another window. It was a custom job. It’ll take weeks to get another.”

“Figures you’d be more concerned with some window than your own health.”

“It’s just a cut, Darby.”

“Cuts can get infected,” she said smoothly. “Keep it covered.” She pressed the last bit of tape into place and gathered up the old bandage and the wrappings from the new one and left the room.

She put the first aid kit back in the kitchen, then went upstairs. In the second bedroom, she picked up Regan’s stuffed bear and tucked it back in bed with her. Reid had kicked off his blanket and Darby’s hand hovered over the edge of it, but she didn’t move it for fear that he’d wake. He slept so uneasily, poor sweetheart.

Finally Darby let him be. It wasn’t cold in the house, after all. She went into the master bedroom and checked the triplets. Tad’s face still felt a little warm to her, but he slept as soundly as Bridget and Keely.

She gathered up her nightshirt and her little bag of toiletries and went to use the bathroom downstairs. She didn’t want to wake up the children by using the en suite. As she crept down the dark stairs, she could see the light shining in Garrett’s den, could hear the low murmur of his voice. He was talking on the phone.

Good, she thought as she closed herself in the bathroom and turned on the light. That meant he’d be busy long enough for her to get ready for bed, then scoot back upstairs through the dark, with him none the wiser. This was the first evening he was home early enough for her to even feel awkward about showering downstairs. She flipped on the shower, letting it warm while she cleaned her face and brushed her teeth. Then she showered and dried off in record time, gathered up her stuff and opened the door.

“The air conditioner is working again.”

Darby gasped and jumped back, hitting the wall behind her. The bundle of clothes, towel and toiletries tumbled out of her grasp, and she glared at Garrett’s shape in the dark hallway. “I had it fixed. And you scared me to death!” She went down on her knees, hands searching in the dark for her things. She found her clothes, at least.

Light suddenly flooded the narrow hallway and she looked up to see him standing over her, his long fingers and pristine bandage still resting against the wall switch. “Need help?” he asked smoothly.

She flushed and looked back down, snatching up the bits of ivory silk that passed for bra and panties and burying them along with her shirt and shorts inside her damp bath towel. She reached forward and plucked the toiletry bag from where it rested against the toe of his scuffed work boot. “No, I don’t need help.” She stood and wished the light wasn’t quite so bright there in the hall. Her oatmeal-colored nightshirt hung to her knees, but she still felt exposed.

Definitely not a good thing after that crazy episode in the kitchen. He wasn’t her type, and she wasn’t his. And even if they were, it was still out of the question. She was only here to help with the children. She owed them that, at least.

“Why aren’t you using one of the baths upstairs?”

“I didn’t want to wake the children.” She began inching her way along the hall. “The pipes for both showers up there rattle really badly, and the water pressure is terrible. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.” The stairs were nearly behind her now.

His lips twisted. “Too late for that. Who fixed the AC?”

“The guy Georgie uses.” The toiletry bag fell off the stack in her arms again as she started up the stairs.

Before she could reach it, Garrett bent and picked it up. “Did he leave a bill?”

“I paid him when he came.” She reached out for the bag. Standing on the second riser, they were nearly eye to eye. “Could I have that back, please?”

“I was planning to fix it myself.”

“Well, now you don’t have to. My bag?”

“How much was it?”

“Five ninety-five.”

His eyebrows rose. “To fix the thermostat? Darby, he’s a crook. Give me his name and I’ll straighten him out.”

“For the bag,” Darby said sweetly. “Five dollars and ninety-five cents. On sale at the discount store as I recall. And I’d like it back. Unless you’re wanting to borrow my razor because your own is dull?”

That stubble-shadowed jaw cocked. “How much was the repair bill, Darby?” She told him and still he didn’t hand back her little bag. “I’ll reimburse you,” he said.

She wasn’t going to argue about it. Despite her suspicion that he really wasn’t as flush financially as he assured her, it wasn’t as if she, herself, still had unlimited resources at her fingertips. “Fine.”

He looked over her head. “I’m sorry the pipes are so bad. When it was just me here, it was no big deal. I’ll see what I can do about fixing it.”

She lifted her shoulder, feeling uncomfortable. “After Wednesday, it won’t make any difference to me,” she reminded and promptly felt like a shrew for doing so. “I’m sorry. That sounded harsh.”

“It sounded honest,” he said evenly. “Good night, Darby.”

She watched him walk back into the den where he closed the door. She blew out a breath and trudged up the stairs to the room she shared with the triplets. Brilliantly handled, Darby.

She hung the towel in the bathroom and checked Tad’s forehead once more before sitting on the far side of the enormous bed. She pulled a clean outfit from the small chest situated beside the bed and the wall and set it out for the morning, but didn’t close the drawer. Under the neatly rolled socks and undies, she could see the edge of the magazine she’d brought.

It was stupid to carry it with her, of course. There was no need. Every word was etched in her memory.

Yet she took it with her wherever she went. A talisman? A warning reminder?

Still, Darby pulled the slick, colorful periodical from beneath her clothing. It was two years old and easily fell open to the article. On one page was a collage of photographs. Some were old black-and-whites. Most were more recent. Fuzzy distance shots, painfully clear close-ups.

Sighing a little, Darby sat back against the pillows. There was Dane when he’d finally been promoted to president of the company. She ran her fingertip along the image of his face. Seven years her senior, he was impossible and overbearing. And she didn’t like admitting that she missed him even the slightest little bit.

But she did.

For a long time they’d been a team. Until he took his place alongside their father, and Darby had once again been alone.

She turned the page to another set of photos. Her graduation. The front of the Schute Clinic in Kentucky where she’d had her first nursing job. The formal engagement photograph. The caption—Intriguing Debra White Rutherford To Wed Media Mogul Heir Bryan Augustine. Only there had been no marriage. No happily ever after. Only a yearlong engagement that ended in humiliation.

One of the triplets snuffled, and Darby looked over at the cribs. She knew why she was looking at the magazine. Looking at the chronicle of her family’s life; each memory a stabbing little wound.

In the kitchen with Garrett, breathing in his warm scent, feeling his heartbeat beneath his gray shirt, she’d forgotten. For a moment. And she couldn’t afford to ever forget. Now, since the accident with Garrett’s sister, she didn’t deserve to forget.

She climbed off the bed, shoving the magazine back in its hiding place beneath her socks and went over to the cribs. She looked down at the sweetly scented babies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “If I could undo it all, I would.”

They slept on.

And Darby snapped off the small table lamp and forced herself to climb into the bed that belonged to the man downstairs. She only wished she could close off thoughts of that man as easily as she’d closed the drawer on the magazine.

Instead, she lay there, wakeful for a long while. Staring into the dark, trying to convince herself that the pillow beneath her head didn’t smell wonderfully of Garrett.