Читать книгу Upstairs Downstairs Baby - Cat Schield - Страница 9

One

He needed to fire Claire.

Lincoln Thurston opened his mouth to do just that as she set his morning smoothie of kale, protein powder and blueberries on the breakfast bar near his gym bag. Then she gave him a smile of such sweetness that he was helpless to do anything but grin back.

Letting his housekeeper go was a matter of desperation. He was obsessed with the lovely young woman who cooked and cleaned for him. Over the twelve months since he’d hired her, it had become increasingly difficult to avoid thinking about her in a certain way. A certain carnal way. Which was why he absolutely, positively couldn’t have her living in his house another day.

And yet he felt responsible for her welfare the way he did for his mother and sister. Claire was almost three thousand miles from her family and her husband had been killed in Afghanistan two years earlier. Besides, what excuse could he give? She cooked like a dream and kept his Charleston house in perfect order. And she was more than his housekeeper. She cared about him. Him. Linc Thurston, the regular guy. Not Linc Thurston, the ballplayer or the multimillionaire or the recently single and highly eligible bachelor.

Linc gave his head a brisk shake. He had to stop thinking about Claire as if she meant something to him. It had already proved detrimental to his love life, causing him to end his engagement.

Not that it was fair to blame Claire. She was the perfect employee. She never once encouraged him or acted as if she was even aware that he was an attractive, financially stable man who could take her away from the drudgery of her current occupation. It was refreshing that she wasn’t working an angle, and yet part of him wished that seduction was her goal. He wouldn’t have minded being at the heart of her sinister plot to trap him. At least then he could sleep with her and never for a second regret it.

As a shortstop with the Texas Barons, making fifteen million a year, Linc was accustomed to having women throw themselves at him. Not even his engagement had slowed them down. At twenty-six, when he was at the beginning of his eight-year, nine-figure contract, he’d basked in the attention. Now, at thirty-three, with only one year left to go, he wanted to settle down with a wife and kids. Or that had been the plan, until he’d reevaluated his feelings for London McCaffrey and realized he wasn’t in love with her.

So, what was it about Claire that preoccupied him?

“Mama.”

The reason Linc would be the biggest jerk of all time if he fired Claire ran into the kitchen buck naked.

“Where are your clothes?” Claire exclaimed as her daughter streaked past.

With her straight shoulder-length brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles over her nose, Claire had a fresh girl-next-door look that sometimes made her seem too young to be the mother of a toddler.

Two-year-old Honey Robbins made a beeline for Linc. He scooped her into his arms, whirling her around. She was a bright-eyed, enthusiastic charmer who’d wrapped him around her finger from their first meeting. Honey shrieked with laughter, and he smiled. Mother and daughter had burrowed beneath his skin to such an extent that not having them around would be so much worse than his constant battle with attraction.

He would just have to endure.

“I don’t know what it is about this child that she can’t manage to keep her clothes on,” Claire said, her brown eyes fixed on the toddler’s chubby cheeks.

“Maybe she takes after her mother?” Had he just said that? His careless words put bright spots of color in Claire’s cheeks and inappropriate thoughts in his head. “I don’t mean that you can’t keep your clothes on,” he hastened to add. “It’s just something people say. I mean, about children taking after their parents.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Claire said. “I thought maybe the security cameras caught me skinny-dipping last week.”

In truth, there were no security cameras and there was no way Claire would take her clothes off and slip naked into his pool. Which was why she could joke about it. Despite the provocative nature of the banter, Claire was a very proper and modest twenty-seven-year-old widow who still wore her wedding band. She obviously wasn’t over her husband, a hero who’d died two years earlier when a suicide bomber attacked his military convoy.

“I guess I better go review the video,” he said, filling his voice with lighthearted good humor. “What day might that have been?”

“I’m not gonna tell you.” Her grin wasn’t flirtatious, merely one of standard amusement. “It’ll give you something to do while I’m vacuuming upstairs. You do get underfoot these days.”

She was plainspoken and treated him like a cross between an older brother and the senile uncle everyone humored. It was his fault. When he hired her a year ago, he’d set the tone for their relationship, wanting—no, needing—someone in his life whom he could be himself around. That was part of why she’d crept beneath his skin. He didn’t hold back around her. She was the one person who had heard all his darkest thoughts, his doubts, his secrets.

Except in one area: the way he’d come to feel about her.

And in turn, she’d talked to him about growing up in San Francisco and how she met her husband. Her eyes glowed when she talked about him and turned teary when she spoke of how Honey would grow up never knowing her father. Claire was not a woman who loved easily and then moved on.

How could he take advantage of someone like that? A single mother with no one to turn to if she lost both her job and the place she lived.

He might not be the best guy in the world—London could attest to that—but there were some lines he wouldn’t cross. And seducing Claire was one of them.

* * *

Claire’s heart ached as she watched Linc with Honey. The man was too ridiculously good-looking for her peace of mind. Since he broke off his engagement to London, it had become harder and harder to resist fantasizing about her and Honey being part of Linc’s family. When the daydreams were at their strongest, she slid on her rubber gloves and cleaned his bathroom. Reminding herself that she was his housekeeper—not a beautiful, successful and pedigreed Charlestonian woman—grounded her flights of fancy. After all, Linc’s mother, Bettina Thurston, had barely tolerated London, and the socialite had had it all: money, success and beauty.

Claire stared at Linc’s bulging biceps as he lifted Honey high into the air and whirled her around until she shrieked in excitement. It was nearly impossible to deny the man’s appeal when he made her child happy. Nor did it help that his strong jaw, laughter-filled blue eyes and sensual lower lip made her blood run hot. Most days she wished he acted the part of a self-absorbed, successful jerk who thought all women were there to satisfy him. Then she wouldn’t have had any tingly feelings for him.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked, settling Honey against his chest.

Her baby patted his cheek with a chubby palm and cooed at him. But Linc’s bright blue eyes remained focused on Claire and the steadiness of his gaze made her temperature rise. She wanted to fan herself and drawl, Oh, my. She’d felt that way a lot since the baseball season ended and he’d returned from Texas. Too often. She couldn’t let this go on. There had to be some way to stop or at least slow her ever-increasing attraction to him.

Claire pictured his mother’s reaction to her predicament and that worked pretty well to cool her fever. Bettina was a true Southern belle from an old family line and rarely missed an opportunity to mention it. Having a pedigree in this town wasn’t synonymous with having money. Even though Bettina’s family had lost much of their fortune in the 1930s, her social standing hadn’t been lowered, which made it unrealistic that she would accept Claire as a suitable match for her son.

“Claire?” Linc’s deep voice roused her from her thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I was thinking about all the things I have to do today.”

“What if I take Lil’ Bit here off your hands, so you can get everything done faster and knock off early?” He tickled Honey, prompting a delighted giggle.

Claire shook her head. It wasn’t professional to let her boss play nanny, but in the months she’d worked for Linc, the line had grown ever more blurry between employer and friend.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can take care of everything.”

Yet the way the pair got along, it was tempting to surrender Honey to Linc’s care. And Claire had other concerns. With Jasper dead, Honey was going to grow up without a father. Claire wanted her daughter to know a good man, but she couldn’t let that be Linc. Plus, she worried that Honey would get attached to him in ways she shouldn’t. What happened when Linc got married and started to have babies of his own? How confused would Honey be when his children took his full attention and he had no more time for her?

“I could use the company,” Linc continued.

Curse the man for being so persistent.

Claire opened her mouth to refuse yet again, but something in his manner stopped her. Since breaking off his engagement to the incredibly beautiful and successful London, his behavior had changed. It was as if he’d lost a bit of his cockiness, which was strange, since she knew he was the one who’d ended things. Maybe Linc had decided that had been a mistake.

London had already rebounded, making a splash in the society pages after being seen on the arm of millionaire playboy and race car driver Harrison Crosby. Claire wouldn’t be surprised if Linc was a little jealous that London had bounced back so fast.

“You can’t watch Honey,” Claire said, plucking her daughter from his grasp.

Honey protested being taken away from Linc, but Claire struggled to maintain a severe expression while ignoring her daughter’s scowl. It was like trying not to smile at a puppy growling fiercely as it plays. Honestly, the child was too adorable for her own good. She’d inherited her father’s charisma. The man could charm fruit off trees. Or the pants off unsuspecting culinary school students, which was what she’d been when they first met.

“If I remember correctly,” Claire continued, “you’re supposed to have lunch with your mother today.”

Linc made a face. “I haven’t forgotten.”

He grabbed his duffel bag and turned to leave the kitchen. Before he took more than two steps, Claire cleared her throat. When he pivoted back around, she was holding up the smoothie. Disgust twisted his handsome features, but he took the drink. She didn’t know what sorts of things he put into his body when he was away from Charleston, but while he was within her care, she made sure he ate nutritious and delectable meals.

“I want to see you taste it before you leave,” she said. “That way I know you won’t throw it out.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself.” He lifted the glass and took a doubtful sniff.

“Food can be healthy and delicious.”

“In my experience, the two don’t go hand in hand.” He radiated suspicion as he took a small sip. “Hey!” His eyes widened. “This one actually tastes good.”

Her heart did a happy little leap. To cover her reaction to his praise, she gave a satisfied nod. “I added a little agave syrup to satisfy your sweet tooth.”

“You’re the best.”

Warmed by his words, Claire let her gaze linger on his departing figure. Then shaking herself free of his spell, she carried her daughter into the sunroom next to the kitchen, where Honey had stripped off her clothes earlier. The room was filled with books and toys to keep the toddler occupied while Claire worked in the kitchen.

Once Honey was dressed, Claire settled her into a booster chair at the kitchen table. Sunlight spilled across the two-year-old’s light brown hair, awakening the gold highlights and making her hazel eyes twinkle. She had her father’s coloring. Claire’s espresso hair and brown eyes were not at all represented. The only mark she’d made on her daughter was her petite frame. Where Jasper had been six-three and broadly built, Honey was in the twenty-fifth percentile for height and weight.

With Linc off to the gym, the house settled back into its usual state of harmonious calm. It wasn’t that his energy was all that chaotic, but his presence tended to stir up feelings Claire would have preferred not to think about. Plus, during the seven months of baseball season, she’d grown accustomed to having the four-bedroom, five-bathroom home in the prestigious South of Broad—or SOB—neighborhood to herself and Honey.

While the toddler ate bits of a homemade blueberry waffle and slices of banana, Claire made out a grocery list. Linc had decided to host a dinner party on Saturday. It was his first time entertaining formally since his engagement to London had ended. When they were together, the socialite had preferred to host all their events at her mansion. London had always made it clear she doubted Claire’s experience and sophistication to pull off a Charleston-worthy event. On the surface, London had been right to judge Claire this way. Her upbringing in San Francisco was a pretty far cry from the pomp and circumstance that ruled Charleston society.

But Claire cooked like a dream. Everyone who’d tasted her food said so. In fact, it was on the strength of her culinary skills that she’d found her way to filling in for Bettina’s housekeeper during a ladies’ luncheon and eventually taking the job with Linc.

As soon as Honey finished her breakfast, Claire dressed her in an adorable outfit she’d found at a consignment shop and headed to the local gourmet grocery store with her list. The menu required several specialty ingredients and Claire knew she’d find everything she needed there.

While she shopped, she kept Honey occupied by practicing her colors.

“What color is this?” Claire asked, showing her a box of elbow macaroni.

“Green,” Honey crowed and clapped her hands, obviously pleased with herself.

“That’s right. It’s green.” She gave her daughter a smoochy kiss on her cheek, making her giggle.

“Well, isn’t she a bright little girl.”

Claire turned toward the speaker, a stunning woman in her early thirties with bright green eyes and dark blond hair subtly highlighted with gold. She had perfect skin and full lips, and her flawless makeup softened the angles of her face. In a yellow T-shirt and a flowered skirt, Claire felt dowdy and uninteresting beside her.

“Thank you. She picks up things so very quickly,” she said, her wide smile broadcasting her pride. “She’s already counting to fifty and knows her ABCs.”

“My goodness. How old is she?”

“She just turned two last month.”

The woman looked suitably impressed. “You must work with her a great deal.”

“I’m home with her all day, so that really makes a difference.”

The woman’s gaze flicked to the plain gold band on Claire’s left hand. Her first inclination was to cover the betraying lack of sparkle. A part of Claire winced at the impulse. In this part of town, status was everything, and she’d grown tired of how fast she was dismissed. Claire pushed her irritation aside. She was a housekeeper. She shouldn’t be worrying about anyone’s perception of her. Still, it smarted a little every time she glimpsed disdain in someone’s eyes.

But there was nothing but kind interest in the woman’s expression. “I bet you read to her all the time.”

“I do. She loves books.” Claire beamed at Honey, realizing how many memories of her own childhood involved her mother reading to her in the overstuffed armchair in their living room. “Do you have any children?”

“No. I’m not married.” The woman sighed. “As much as I love children, I’m not really sure I’m cut out for motherhood.”

“It’s not always easy.”

The woman acknowledged the remark with a faint smile. “I’m Everly Briggs.”

“Nice to meet you, Everly. I’m Claire Robbins and this is my daughter, Honey.”

“Well, Claire, that’s an interesting collection of ingredients you have there,” she said, letting her gaze travel over the contents of Claire’s shopping cart. “What are you making?”

Smiling, Claire ticked off the menu she’d fretted over for the better part of a week. “Scallops with potato pancakes and caviar sauce. Braised lamb shanks with vegetable puree. And seared bitter greens with roasted beets and spiced pecans. And for dessert, a pomegranate-chocolate cake.”

With each menu item she listed, the woman’s eyes grew wider. “Well, that’s quite impressive. What’s the occasion?”

“My employer is hosting a dinner party.”

“Who might that be? I’ll have to wrangle an invitation. It all sounds delicious.”

Everly fired off the question so blithely that Claire answered before considering whether she should. “Lincoln Thurston.”

The woman’s friendly manner underwent a slight transformation at the mention of Linc’s name. She stopped making polite conversation and became riveted. “Oh.” Her smile took on a keen edge. “Now I really want to come to the party. I heard he’s single these days.”

“Ah...yes.”

Wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, Claire gathered breath to make a courteous exit, but the stranger latched on to the shopping cart, preventing Claire from going anywhere.

“I’m having some friends over next week and would love to hire you to cater my party.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t. When I said I worked for Linc...” Claire cursed her earlier lapse. For a moment, she’d seen the admiration in the woman’s eyes and it had felt amazing. “I’m not his caterer. I’m his housekeeper.”

“The one who lives-in?” Everly asked, a smooth drawl sugarcoating her avid curiosity.

Claire frowned. “Yes.” What was this woman after?

“Oh.” Everly shaded the word in all sorts of understanding. “Then you’re the woman all Charleston is gossiping about.”