Читать книгу The Baby Consultant - Anne Marie Winston - Страница 9

Two

True to Jack’s word, Frannie’s portfolio was delivered to her first thing Monday morning by the same friendly blonde she’d seen in his office.

“I am really sorry about this,” the woman said. “Jack and I had to coordinate a number of things by phone where he got called down to Florida, and I overlooked it.”

“That’s all right. Unavoidable things happen sometimes.” Frannie hadn’t been able to continue being piqued at Jack. Not after she’d lain awake half the night thinking about how he was doing with the baby.

“Jack tells me you were a godsend on Friday evening.” The blonde smiled sympathetically. “I’ve never thought of Jack as a father in all the years we’ve been together. He certainly has his hands full.”

The woman’s words caught Frannie off guard. The way he’d flirted, charmed her last night had made her forget what kind of man he was. Anger lit a small fuse inside her He had no business flirting with her like that when he clearly had a long-term relationship with his secretary.

“It was no big deal,” she said, practically shooing the blonde out and preparing to close the door. “I’d have done the same for anybody.”

The rest of the morning she was conscious of a feeling of...disappointment nagging at her. It must be human nature to want to assume the best of someone. She’d given Jack the benefit of the doubt when she should have known better. Especially when she’d had first-hand experience with the same kind of man before.

Well, she wasn’t going to give Jack Ferris another thought. She immediately called two clients and set up appointments for them to go over the portfolio with her, then went to work on a beautiful old dress that one client’s mother had worn. The girl wanted to wear it, but unfortunately she was a bit larger than her mother. Frannie had devised twin panels of additional fabric as an insert at the waist that inconspicuously offered the necessary size adjustment. Both the bride and her mother were delighted.

In the middle of the morning, a delivery from the florist interrupted a final fitting for a girl whose wedding was the following Saturday.

“Got something here for you, Frannie,” the man called.

Rising from her knees, where she’d been fiddling with the hemline that the bride insisted had be to lengthened to accommodate the higher heels she had bought over the weekend, Frannie pushed through the swinging saloon-style doors from the fitting area.

Her regular delivery man stood in the middle of the shop, totally hidden behind a huge spray of red roses beautifully displayed with ferns and baby’s breath. His big feet in heavy work boots looked ridiculously out of place on the pale pink carpet. “You musta really impressed some fella.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Frannie replied. “They’re probably for one of my brides, though why they would have been sent here is a mystery.”

“I don’t know ’bout that,” he said. He set the arrangement down on top of a glass counter displaying a variety of ladies’ dress gloves. “It’s got your name right here.” He pointed to the address attached to the flowers before turning to leave. “You have a nice day now.”

“You, too,” Frannie said absently as she slid the small white card from its accompanying envelope.

You’re my angel. Jack.

Pleasure swept through her. An image of Jack’s face rose for an instant before the damper of reality intruded. Jack only was expressing his thanks with this too-extravagant gesture. He might have made her heart beat faster for a few hours, but that was immaterial. He was involved already. With at least one woman, she thought, remembering the phone conversation he’d been having the day she’d been shown into his office.

“Whoo-hoo! What did you have to do for those?” April, her assistant, peeked through the doors, then walked over to read the card as she bent toward the roses and inhaled deeply. “Who’s Jack? And how come florists’ roses never have any smell?”

“A little favor, a business acquaintance, and I don’t know.” Under April’s suspicious gaze, Frannie fought the urge to fidget. It was true; Jack was just an acquaintance whom she’d helped out. The roses meant nothing to him other than, “Thank you.”

And, of course, that was what they meant to her, too.

The rest of the week passed in a frantic blur. June was a big month in the bridal business; come July, the bell over the shop door probably wouldn’t ring once the whole day, but it certainly was getting a workout in June. On Friday afternoon Frannie and April were sharing a soda and nursing fingers sore from so much detailed handwork, when the door to the shop’s entry jangled yet again.

Wearily Frannie got to her feet. She would give a lot to be able to flip that sign over to Closed for the rest of the day. But they had fittings scheduled right up until they locked up that evening. With a sigh, she pushed through the doors into the shop with a smile firmly pinned in place.

She stopped dead when she saw Jack Ferris lounging against a counter, smiling at her. He was wearing a sort of backpack with Alexa snuggled into it, except that it was carried on his broad chest rather than his back. One hand patted a gentle rhythm against the spot where Alexa’s back was. It was hard to tear her gaze from the sight. The contrast between the baby’s pink, lace-edged bonnet and his big, blunt-fingered hand struck her hard in the heart.

He was wearing dun-colored slacks with a dark green knit shirt that made his eyes look silver. Or maybe it was just the light in the shop. Whatever, he looked wonderful. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath backed up in her throat for a minute. She despised her reaction, but she couldn’t control it.

“This is a surprise,” she finally managed. To her everlasting relief, her voice sounded relatively normal, if a bit higher than usual.

Jack straightened and came toward her, moving around the counter to her side. “I know. We just came from the doctor’s office and I thought you might want to hear how Lex is doing.”

“Lex?” To cover her flustered state, she seized on the name as she sidled a step away. “You’re calling that beautiful little girl Lex?”

“Sure. Every kid needs a nickname.” He took a step closer and smiled down at her. “Frannie is a nickname, isn’t it? Short for Francesca?”

“Don’t I wish.” She shook her head as she backed up another step. “Short for Frances.”

“I’m glad you’re not Frances or Fran. I like ‘Frannie,”’ Jack pronounced, advancing again.

She didn’t care what he liked. She just wished the man would quit invading her personal space. She took another step backward, and the wall brought her up short. “I like ‘Frannie,’ too.” Why are you here?

“And Jack, of course, is another name for John. My father was John, and I have to say I’m glad. Don’t you think Jack suits me?” He took another step closer.

“Jack suits you.” She took a deep breath. “You’re crowding me.”

“I know.”

She was startled into looking up and as she did so, she realized how very close he was. Their bodies were only inches apart, separated by the small mound of the baby’s carrier. He was smiling that intimate smile again, and she reminded herself that it was second nature for him, that there was nothing personal about it.

“Do you do this to all your friends?” She made her voice light and amused.

At the outer edges of his eyes, the grooves deepened. “Only my absolute favorites.” But he moved back a step.

She stayed where she was, with her back to the wall. Had she imagined it, or had his eyes grown watchful? “Thank you for the roses. It really wasn’t necessary, though.”

“I didn’t do it because I thought it was necessary,” he said. “I appreciate the time you took helping me with Alexa. She’d been in foster care practically until the moment we stepped on the plane. I’ve never been around babies much. It was a shock to have this little scrap of life dependent on me for every need all of a sudden.”

“A first baby is a shock even when you’ve anticipated its arrival for months.”

“No kidding.” His voice was dry, and for the first time she noticed that he looked tired. “When people talk about how sweet babies are, they never tell you that they get you up in the middle of the night or that they throw up on you ten times a day and scream bloody murder when you give them a bath.”

To cover her urge to laugh, Frannie coughed.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “That didn’t fool me. You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“Yes, but only because I’ve lived through it.”

Jack cocked his head to one side, and his eyes suddenly were clear and alert. “You told me you helped with your brothers’ children.”

“Yes. Between them I have five nieces and nephews. One of my brothers’ wives had twins a few years ago. They were premature and needed a lot of care for the first few months after they were released from the hospital.” She smiled, remembering how fussy Robert’s twins had been. “For about three months there, I was in desperate need of a few hours of unbroken sleep.”

Jack was nodding. “It’s only been a week, and I already feel that way. I’m keeping my fingers crossed, though. For the past two nights she’s slept for five hours straight. I think we’re on the right track.”

Alexa stirred and he looked down. “What’s the matter, baby doll? Are you tired of being crammed into that sack?” He glanced at Frannie. “Would you like to hold her?”

She really shouldn’t. She was up to her eyeballs in work. But she could already feel the sweet weight of the little body in her arms. “I’d love to.”

He lifted Alexa from her nest and passed her into Frannie’s hands, and she noted that in just one week he had gotten pretty sure of himself. It showed in the careful, competent way he handled the child as he untied the bonnet’s strings and lifted the little cap from her head.

“Hello, sweetie. How’s my girl today? I bet you’re having fun with your uncle Jack.” She used the special voice she reserved for teeny ones as she clucked and murmured.

Jack chuckled. “I don’t know if we’re having fun, but we’re managing.”

Alexa yawned and grimaced, and her blue eyes focused intently on Frannie’s. Then her tiny face crinkled in a wide grin.

Could a person’s heart melt? Frannie felt as if her whole being suddenly had softened as a rush of maternal delight swept over her. “Oh, look! She’s smiling at me.”

“She’ll smile at anything right now.”

“Thanks a lot. That was flattering.”

“I guess that didn’t come out quite right.” He chuckled again. “One of my clients brought her a rag doll that’s almost the size she is. I set it in the corner of the crib and every time she catches sight of its face, she smiles.”

Frannie rocked the baby as Alexa stretched and cooed. “You know a friendly face when you see one, don’t you, chickadee?” Holding Alexa up, she brushed her cheek across the down-covered scalp, then lifted her head to smile at Jack. “This has got to be my favorite age. I adore them when they’re tiny and helpless and they look at you like you’re God. Then again, toddlers are delightful, too. Just in a different way. And they’re really fun when they hit school age....”

Her voice trailed away. He was still standing too close, but she’d forgotten when she’d been absorbed in the baby. Now she remembered.

He was looking at her mouth as she spoke. It was a silly thing, but it struck her as unbelievably seductive. Even when she stopped speaking, he didn’t meet her eyes, but continued to watch her lips.

Time stopped. Her breath stopped. Deep in her abdomen, she felt a flower of warmth blossoming, unsettling her, the excitement of arousal stirring and softening her in a manner totally different from the maternal feelings she had for Alexa.

Slowly he lifted one big hand, up and up and up until it was hovering at her cheek. His index finger feathered a whisper of sensation along the bow of her upper lip; his gaze followed the motion.

She kept her own eyes on his face, studying its blunt contours, the broad sweep of his brow, the sandy lashes that formed a thick screen about his eyes. Had she ever seen a man so beautifully formed before?

Jack lifted his gaze to hers. Time stretched and sagged around them while he silently seduced her; in the depths of those bottomless silvery eyes she read a multitude of messages. All of them conveyed arousal, and a desire that curled her toes inside the comfortable flats she was wearing.

Alexa chose that moment to utter a full, resounding belch worthy of the bowling alley or the golf course.

Frannie jumped and looked down at Alexa.

Jack’s gaze flew to the baby, too. Slowly that heart-stopping smile spread over his face as he looked back at Frannie. “Wow. If she were a man, I’d consider that a challenge.”

Frannie laughed, feeling the tension of the last few moments shatter as she handed the baby back to him. “Here. You’d better take her. I seem to have an adverse effect on her.”

“Hardly.” Jack’s voice dropped to a lower pitch. “You’ve had a great effect on her. And on me.”

Butterflies rose in a flurry of sensation in her stomach. Doggone it. He was the worst flirt she’d ever met. Mentally she kicked herself for succumbing to his charm, if only for a moment, and willed herself to ignore the mad beating of butterfly wings. “Well, thanks for stopping by. It was nice to see you both. I hope the adjustment period continues to go as smoothly.”

In the act of resettling Alexa in her little sack, Jack paused. “Um, Frannie?”

For a moment she’d swear a look of...almost guilt, she supposed, crossed his face. Then it was gone, and he was affable, incredibly attractive Jack again. “I really have to get back to work now,” she told him.

“I know. This will only take a minute. I have something I’d like you to think about.”

Think? He wanted her to think? I think seeing you again, even in a chance meeting, is a really bad idea, she told him silently. He could make her forget too much, offer too much—

“I need to find someone to baby-sit for Alexa while I work. Would you consider keeping her?”

“Would I...?” It took a moment to sink in. Frost swept through her, and the butterflies died in the chill, becoming a dead weight in her stomach. Outrage rose. There was little she disliked more than men who used their charm to wheedle women into doing them “a favor.” She felt like she’d hopped onto a carousel horse that kept bringing her around to the same old point again and again. Did she have a sign stamped on her forehead that read Nursemaid or Housekeeper?

It was a struggle to keep her expression blank. “Who’s keeping her now?” she asked carefully. Beneath the surface, anger began to consume her, boiling higher and higher every second.

“I’ve been taking her to work with me,” he said. “Between Marlene and me—she’s my secretary—we’ve been managing, but it’s just too hectic. She really needs to be with someone who has more time for her.”

“So what makes you think I have the time?”

There was a bite in her voice now, and Jack looked cautious, as if he’d wandered into the middle of a minefield and was trying desperately to pick his way out intact. He looked around and spread his hands to indicate her shop. “I just—this is attached to your home, isn’t it? You sew, which doesn’t require dealing with people constantly, and you’re fantastic with her—I know you love children.”

She dug both hands into her hair to keep from putting them around his thick neck. “Yes, Jack, this is attached to my home. Do you know why? Because during the big bridal season, I’m too busy to even take time to drive to work and back.” Her voice rose. “And just how do you suppose I make clothing that fits my clients?”

“I don’t—”

“I have people wandering in and out of here all day long for fittings and design sessions and fabric consultations. I have customers scheduled right up until eight o’clock tonight. Come here.”

She turned and marched to the back of the shop and pushed through the doors into the fitting and sewing room, seeing it through Jack’s eyes as he followed her.

A three-way mirror with a platform in front for viewing clothing was mounted at one end of the room. One wall was filled with shelving on which were sewing supplies, dozens of different fabrics, bridal magazines and accessories. Hats, veils, shoes, hosiery, frilly white parasols and clever little beaded purses filled shelves to overflow. The wall opposite the mirror was one enormous closet. When the doors were folded back as they were now, more than fifty dresses in various stages of completion could be seen hanging. Against the fourth wall were three sewing machines. Directly behind them was an enormous, custom-designed worktable on which April was pinning a pattern to a swath of satin. Two ironing boards stood beside it Everything was neat and tidy, but it was clear this was a busy place to be.

“Does this look like I have time to baby-sit?” she demanded, turning back to Jack.

Behind her, April said, “Hi, I’m April. Are you Roses-Jack?”

“That’s me,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, April. Do me a favor and tell the coroner I died from having large quantities of roses stuffed down my throat.”

April laughed, clearly delighted, and Frannie thought bitterly that he could get most women to do just about anything. Too bad for him, she wasn’t most women. Anymore.

“April, take a break. Go drink a soda, take a walk, go in the house and watch a soap opera,” Frannie told her.

April’s eyes rounded. “Yes, ma’am.” She laid down her shears and exited the workroom through Frannie’s private door.

“Look, Frannie, I’m sorry,” Jack said.

“No, you’re not.” Her voice was hard. “You might be sorry you weren’t able to sweet-talk me into keeping your baby, but you’re not sorry you tried to con me into the job. Do you realize how shallow you seem? You’ve spent your whole life using your charm to get women to do your bidding, haven’t you? I bet ninety percent of your clientele is female, because they’re easier for you to manipulate than other men.”

“You’d lose the bet.” His voice was as chilly as hers was heated.

“You never expected me to refuse, did you? You just assumed that because I loved your baby—and yes, I admit I’m wild about children—I’d be happy to help you out once you batted your eyes at me and smiled.” She held open one of the doors leading to the shop out front. “Too bad for you I’ve met charmers before. As a breed, you’re distinctly unimpressive. Now, if you’ll leave, I have work to do.”

Jack’s face was grim. He hesitated for a moment, and Frannie was shaken by the black fire in his eyes. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

He moved toward the door, and again she was struck by how graceful he was for a big man. As he reached her, she stepped back so he could pass, but he paused, forcing her to look up to meet his eye. And even though she knew he was deliberately using his size to intimidate her, she quailed inwardly. She only hoped it didn’t show, and she lifted her chin higher in defiance.

“You’re wrong about me, but you were right about one thing. I’m not sorry I tried to con you into keeping Alexa. My biggest concern is finding someone who will love her as much as I do. I knew she’d be safe—and loved—with you.”

He turned and brushed through the doors, and her whole body sagged as the angry electricity in the air went with him.

She absolutely could not stand him. She should be pleased with herself that she had stood up to him. Instead, his final words echoed in her ears, making her feel small and mean—and guilty.

The rat. He probably knew exactly what he was saying, and how it would affect her.

The match was tied, 3 to 3. As he sprinted down the lacrosse field, one eye on the lacrosse ball, Jack caught his attention wandering away from the game. It wandered toward the same place it had about every thirty seconds throughout the match—toward the bleachers off to the right, where Frannie Brooks had sashayed her little butt up onto a bench right before the game began.

He’d been so shaken up when he first saw her that the coach had to call his name three times to get his attention. What in tarnation was she doing at his match? He was positive he’d never seen her here before. For about ten minutes, he’d entertained the fantasy that she’d sought him out, that she had come to apologize for the things she’d said almost two weeks ago—eleven days, if anybody was counting.

Which he wasn’t. The opinion of one girl with wide, serious eyes, the most kissable mouth he’d ever seen and incredibly sexy legs didn’t matter one whit to him.

After a few minutes of watching her, while waiting for the match to begin, he realized that she was with the sister of one of his teammates, Dee Halleran—no, she was married now. Or at least she had been. Her brother had said she was divorced.

Just then, Dee said something to Frannie as she turned and pointed straight at him. Frannie looked at him, too, and he saw the shock in her face. There was no way she had known he would be here, he could tell, and she apparently hadn’t recognized him beneath his face mask. Dee waved, but he pretended he didn’t see her as the coach gathered the players for last-minute strategy. It must be simple chance that Dee had invited her to come along. He knew they were acquainted because Dee had been the one to refer Frannie to him.

Just then, another attackman passed off to him. He caught the pass easily with his stick and barely had time to send it hurtling toward the goal before the center from the opposing team came at him with bared teeth and narrowed eyes, slamming him hard in the chest and knocking him to the ground.

A scream went up from the sidelines. His teammates were dancing around—ridiculous behavior for a bunch of big guys in face masks—and one man extended a hand to help him off the ground. “Way to go, buddy!” He pounded Jack on the back.

Jack winced. He was getting too darn old for this sport. He’d said that every year for the past five, but this year he meant it. Next season, the only way he’d be stepping onto a lacrosse field was as a coach.

Turning toward the bench, he gathered his stuff into his oversize duffel. Now where the heck was the woman who was watching Lex? She’d reluctantly agreed to keep Alexa during the matches so that he could finish the season, and he knew why. She was as competitive as her husband. If Jack didn’t play and the lineup changed at this late date, it would shake everybody’s confidence. And that would be a bad thing right before the championships.

He spotted the woman’s blond hair at the far end of the bleachers. Shouldering his duffel, he headed her way.

“Hey, there,” the sitter said as he approached. “I think your kid needs to be changed.”

She held Alexa out and plopped her into his arms, then slipped the diaper bag over his shoulder atop the duffel as he peered down at the baby, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Though she did indeed smell as if a diaper switch was in order.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Her husband came up behind her, turning her into his arms and kissing her. “Does that baby make you nervous?”

“You know it.” She laughed. “It’s going to be a few more years before I’m ready for the kind of commitment a baby takes.”

He smiled down at her in an intimate manner that Jack envied. “I think we need a few more years to practice, anyway, just to be sure we’re going about making babies the right way.”

They had their arms around each other’s waists as they walked away. It was easy to admit he envied them. He’d wanted that kind of closeness once, and for a while he thought he had it. A short while.

But he didn’t want to go down memory lane tonight. What he wanted was to talk to Frannie Brooks. Actually, he’d almost be content with the view, he thought, assessing her legs exposed by the shorts she wore. He stopped beside Deirdre, who was talking to her brother.

As he smiled at the two women before him, he was feeling a little jumpy around the edges. Much as he hated to admit it, he owed Frannie an apology. He’d been planning to call her, but this was better.

“Hi, Jack.” Deirdre greeted him with a warm smile, her heart-shaped face lighting up. She looked... worn down. Not just tired from too little sleep, but wiped out, as if she was running on nerves, having depleted her reserves of energy. Surveying her two little boys, who were racing up and down the field with a couple of sticks they’d sneaked off with when the owners weren’t looking, he could see why. Those two would keep anybody on the edge of insanity.

“Hi, Dee.” Wrapping his free arm about her shoulders, he gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. “How are you?” It wasn’t a routine courtesy; he was concerned. He’d known her since they were kids, and he knew things hadn’t turned out well between her and the jerk she had married. She hadn’t been to a game all season, which was unusual in itself.

“Passable.” She brushed off his query and indicated the woman standing silently to one side. “You’ve met Frannie, I believe.”

“Hello, Jack.” Her voice was quiet but not as frigid as he’d expected. Or as frigid as he deserved, maybe. She had been right to be ticked off by his assumption that she could fit a baby into her schedule more easily than he could. He couldn’t figure how he’d come to that idiotic conclusion; fatigue was his only defense. He’d been so wiped out after dealing with the estate and taking on Alexa his brain cells were making faulty connections.

“Hi, Frannie.” He should apologize, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Her little nose was so straight he thought he might have to run a finger down it just for fun, and her eyes were as flirty as ever above the lush curve of her lips, though he was pretty sure she didn’t know how she looked. She was wearing shorts of blue jeans material, with a pretty checked shirt that didn’t quite meet the waistband of the shorts. With each move she made, he caught a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, bare midriff. 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.”