Читать книгу Christmas with Daddy - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 11

LOOKING AFTER A six-month-old baby was hard work. A lot harder than looking after a dog. Scooping poop from a snowbank wasn’t pleasant, but it beat changing diapers. And filling dog bowls wasn’t nearly as fussy as spooning warm cereal into an easily distracted baby’s mouth.

“Good thing you’re so cute,” Bridget said to Mandy as she tried again to get her to eat some of the cereal. But Mandy had uncanny timing, managing to push out her tongue at the exact moment Bridget brought the little spoon to her mouth.

Bridget laughed. “Maybe you’re just not that hungry. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” She reached for the damp facecloth and cleaned Mandy’s face. Mandy giggled, obviously finding this game very funny.

By the time she got Mandy down for her afternoon nap, Bridget realized she was going to earn every penny of the generous hourly rate that Nick was paying her.

She gazed at the sleeping baby, unable to resist touching the downy softness of her cheek. You are so much work. But so worth it.

She checked the monitor to make sure it was on, before going into the backyard to play with the dogs for a while. When they were tired, she went on the Internet to research diapers and baby-food recipes.

Baby food. A week ago she never would have guessed she’d be pureeing vegetables and wiping up baby spit. Mandy was adorable, but Bridget had to admit the real reason she’d agreed to the job was the girl’s father.

She didn’t know what it was about Nick that appealed to her. In real life, she didn’t usually go for the playboy type. She liked dependable guys, with solid values and level heads. She’d had two serious relationships in her life. Two men she’d come very close to marrying.

They’d been wonderful men. Nothing like Nick. And yet…ever since he’d moved into the neighborhood she’d been fascinated by him.

She liked to think she saw hidden depths in the man. But maybe she was just kidding herself. Maybe, just maybe, she was as guilty of enjoying a charming, sexy man as the next woman.

Could it be? Was she, Bridget Humphrey, human?

Once Mandy woke up, Bridget went back into full-speed activity. First was Mandy’s bottle, then another walk, which entailed bundling Mandy into the stroller and getting all four dogs on their leads and out the door.

It was later than usual when Bridget returned and soon the owners were coming to pick up their dogs. Foster left first. His owner, Diane House, was a teacher who dropped him off and picked him up on her walk to and from school.

As usual, Foster was waiting by the window and as soon as he spotted Diane, he ran to the front door and began running through his repertoire of tricks: sitting, holding out a paw, lying down, rolling over, then standing on his hind legs to dance.

Bridget opened the door, and Diane stuck her head inside, laughing at Foster’s performance. “Good boy, Foster!”

She gave the little terrier his customary treat, then clipped him onto her leash. “Did you guys have a good day?”

“Sure did.” Bridget explained about Mandy and how the dogs all seemed to enjoy having a baby around.

Before turning to leave, Diane sighed. “Just one more week, then school’s out for the Christmas break. You remember Foster won’t be back until January?”

Bridget nodded. All of her dogs would be staying home for several weeks over Christmas. It was good for them to have extra bonding time with their families. And it was good for her, too, giving her a chance to have a real holiday, as well.

Next to leave were Stanley and Herman. The wealthy couple who owned them had their nanny pick them up at the end of the day and she always arrived promptly at five.

Usually Lefty hated being the last to go home. The boxer would sit by the front door, desolate, waiting for his owner, Elizabeth, an executive who had no family and often worked late hours.

Today, though, he was distracted by Mandy and her endless fascination with his ears. Lefty gazed at her adoringly, letting her pull and stroke and pat to her heart’s content. While they played, Bridget opened her mail. She loved this time of year, when she could look forward to receiving cards from friends and family rather than just the usual flyers and bills.

She was propping up that day’s cards for display when the doorbell rang. Lefty snapped his head up and trotted to the front door. Elizabeth opened the unlocked door. “I’ve got him, Bridget. Thanks.”

It took a moment for Mandy to register the fact that she’d been abandoned. She frowned, then stuck out her bottom lip. Bridget scooped her up before she could cry.

“You really do love those dogs, don’t you, sweetie? How about I sing you some nursery rhymes?” Bridget soon found that Mandy responded best to old favorites—especially “Teensy, Weensy Spider.”

As the time neared five-thirty, Bridget’s thoughts turned to Nick. He should be here soon. She didn’t like the way her pulse sped up just at the thought of seeing him again. This time when the doorbell rang, she checked her hair in the mirror. Earlier she’d combed it into a neat ponytail, but during her walk, the wind had wreaked havoc out of the wiry strands.

Ah well.

She opened the door with one hand, holding Mandy in the other. At first glance Nick seemed tired and discouraged, but as soon as he saw his daughter, his face relaxed into a genuine smile.

“How’s my girl?” He held out his arms and Mandy went to him happily. “Was she cranky after getting so little sleep last night?”

Sexy guys looked even sexier holding a baby. Who would have guessed? “She was a doll, Nick. Come on in. She’s ready to go. Just needs her snowsuit.”

“Thanks, Bridget. I’ve got to tell you, it’s a big relief for me, knowing that she’s safe with you. Really lets me focus on the job.”

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” she said lightly.

“After last night, I have no doubt you earn every cent. And more besides. I’ll owe you big after this, Bridge. Anytime you need someone to walk your dogs, you’ll know who to call.”

She smiled, knowing his wasn’t an empty offer. She led him through to the living room where Mandy’s snowsuit was sitting on the stroller.

Bridget perched on a chair and watched as Nick expertly zipped up his daughter, then swirled her in the air, making her giggle with crazy abandon.

He was such a great guy. He really was. So why did he have so much trouble committing to relationships with women? She was dying to do his numbers and find out.

“Won’t you please tell me your birth date?”

He made a face. “I thought we agreed to disagree on that numerology stuff.”

“But aren’t you even curious?” She certainly was. “You might be surprised at what your life path number has to tell you.”

“I don’t think so.” He strapped his daughter into the stroller. Mandy clapped her hands together.

“By the way, I placed an order with Little Stork Diaper service today.”

“Jessica left me with enough diapers for at least a month.”

“She left you disposable diapers, Nick. Have you forgotten our deal?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “No. But I was hoping you would.”

“Using cloth rather than disposable reduces the waste in our landfills by about two tons per child.”

“That’s got to be an exaggeration.”

She raised her eyebrows.

He sighed with apparent resignation. “Will I have to wash them?”

“No. Once a week, the diaper service picks up the soiled diapers and leaves us with more clean ones.”

“We have to keep the dirty diapers for a week?” Nick looked disgusted by the prospect.

“In a special solution in a covered container. Don’t worry. It shouldn’t smell.” She hoped.

“God, Bridget, I don’t know. What if I promise to recycle absolutely everything I use for the rest of my life…after Mandy’s out of diapers.”

He gave her a smile so charming she almost caved. How could any woman say no to this man? But in all good conscience, she could not use disposable diapers when there were other more ecologically kind alternatives.

She was about to give him a lecture, when he backed down on his own.

“We had a deal. Yeah, I remember. I’ll use the cloth diapers, Bridge. Is there anything else?”

“Organic, homemade, baby food,” she reminded him brightly. “I made a batch of rice sweet potato and another of barley carrot this afternoon after our walk. I froze them in ice-cube containers. You can feed Mandy one for dinner tonight.”

“Rice sweet potato, huh?”

“She’ll love it. Just thaw it in the microwave, then serve.” She removed the plastic bag from her freezer and stowed it in the diaper bag.

“Sounds simple enough, even for me.” He had started to wheel the stroller down the hall when he suddenly noticed her display of Christmas cards.

“What the hell.” He picked up one of the cards, frowned, then glanced at her. “Where did you get this?”

She took the card from his hand, slightly annoyed by his tone. “In the mail. Why?”

“You know Attorney General Lang?”

“His wife is a client of mine.”

Nick let out a low whistle. “Interesting.”

“Why is this such a big deal? Do you know the Lang family?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He removed a photograph from his shirt pocket and showed it to her.

Annabel’s daughter stared up at her.

Why did Nick have a picture of Tara? Before she could ask the question, she knew the answer. “Tara is the runaway you’re looking for.”