Читать книгу Baby for the Tycoon - Emily McKay - Страница 12

The wedding itself went off with all the precision of a well-planned military maneuver. And it was just about as romantic. A small ceremony performed in a drab municipal office in downtown Palo Alto, it was over so quickly that Jonathon felt sure Claire and Matt wished they had stayed in Curaçao instead of making the trip back.

After that first kiss in her office had gotten so out of control, he didn’t even dare cement the ceremony with more than a quick peck. So much for convincing their friends that they were in love. But no one in the office that day seemed surprised, least of all Wendy.

That evening, they swung by Wendy’s apartment to pick up her suitcase and Peyton’s few possessions before heading over to his house. They’d decided to keep her apartment for now. Her lease wasn’t up for another few months, which would give her plenty of time to decide when she wanted to move into his house and what she wanted to keep in storage. When they arrived at his house, they discovered that Claire had made them dinner, and they found it waiting for them in the warming drawer of his kitchen.

He stood beside Wendy in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at the table with a fist clenching his heart. The table had been set with two of the elegant place settings his interior designer had bought seven years ago and which he’d never used. Long, thin tapers sat in the center of the table, a book of matches propped against the candle holder. In between the two chairs sat the new Svan high chair he’d had delivered. A bottle of unopened champagne sat chilling in a bucket opposite the high chair.

Wendy cleared her throat. “Um…” She hitched Peyton up on her hip. “I think I’ll just… urn… unpack a few of the bags first.” Her gaze looked from the wine to him. “I’m not really hungry yet.”

Before he could muster a response, she took the final suitcase from him and made a dash for the door. Probably a wise decision. Neither of them was ready yet for a intimate dinner. Let alone wine.

Three hours later, she still hadn’t made it back down to eat. He’d sat at the table himself, eating in front of his laptop. Finally, he shut his laptop and went in search of Wendy. He found her upstairs in the room he’d set aside as a nursery.

He paused just outside the door. Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, for a long moment he simply watched her. The room had been painted pale pink. Butterflies fluttered across the walls and bunnies frolicked in the grass painted along the trim. A white crib sat in the corner under a mobile of more butterflies and flowers. Overall, the décor of the room was a little cloying in its sweetness, but the decorator had assured him that it was perfect for the new addition to his life. This evening, he barely noticed the butterflies, but rather focused his attention on the woman sitting in the rocking chair in the corner and the baby she held in her arms.

At some point, Wendy had changed out of the dress and into a pair of jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt. Peyton was asleep in her arms. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back against the headrest of the rocking chair. Only the faint tensing of her calf as she occasionally nudged the chair into movement indicated that she wasn’t asleep too.

He cleared his throat to let her know he was there.

Her head bobbed up. “Oh,” she said, wiggling in the chair to reposition Peyton in her arms without waking her. “How long have you been there?”

“I just walked up.”

She glanced down at the baby in her arms as Peyton stirred but didn’t wake. “I suppose I should put her down,” she whispered. “But I hate to do it. If she wakes up again…”

If the smudges of exhaustion under her eyes were any indication, Peyton wasn’t the easiest of babies. No wonder given the upheaval in her young life.

“If she wakes back up,” he found himself saying, “then I’ll take over and you can get some sleep. You should go eat.”

Wendy shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. That’s not why we got married.”

There was almost a hint of accusation in her voice.

“Maybe not,” he hedged. “But we are married now. And you obviously could use the sleep. At this point, I’m more rested than you are. A sleepless night won’t hurt me, but a good night’s sleep could do you a world of good.”

“If she needs a bottle in the night—”

“Then I’ll give it to her.”

Wendy looked skeptical. “The bottles are downstairs. You just—”

“I saw you mixing the formula. I’ve got it.”

“But—”

“Wendy, I’m one of five kids. I had a niece and two nephews before I graduated from high school. Peyton won’t be the first baby I’ve ever fed.”

“Oh.” After a moment of hesitation, she stood and crossed to the crib.

As he’d told her, he knew his way around an infant. It was so obvious to him that she did not. There was a sort of fearful hesitancy to the way she moved. As if she were afraid of breaking Peyton.

She lowered the baby into the crib then stood there for a long moment, her hand resting on Peyton before she moved back a step. She cringed as she raised the side of the bed and the hardware clattered. But Peyton slept on and Wendy slowly backed away.

She paused as she closed the door to unclip the baby monitor from her hip and turn it on, as if Peyton might start crying any second and Wendy would miss it now that she was out of sight. He couldn’t help chuckling when she raised the monitor to her ear to listen more closely.

She shot him an annoyed look. “What?”

“You know you’re only one room away. You could probably hear her cry without the monitor.” When she looked as if she might comment, he reached out and carefully extracted it from her fingers. “Not that you’re going to need this tonight any way.”

“I really don’t mind staying up with her.” “The discussion is over.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut, her lips twisting into a smile. “I guess I know you well enough to recognize that I’m-the-boss-and-what-I-say-goes tone.”

“I have a tone that says all that?”

She snorted her derision. “Yeah. And don’t pretend you don’t know it.” She took a step in the direction of the room at the end of the hall—the guest room she’d claimed for her own—then she paused. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Wendy, let’s not have another discussion about my motives.”

She took another step toward him, closing the distance between them and lowering her voice. “No. I’m not talking about the wedding. I’m talking about all this.” She nodded her head in the direction of Peyton’s room. “I mean the nursery. The crib. The rocking chair. It’s all—”

“It’s nothing.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Like the twenty percent nothing? Unless you were up all night hand-painting butterflies and daisies last night, I’m guessing you hired an interior decorator to come in and do this. In less than a week. That’s not nothing.”

“Kitty mentioned that all you had was a bassinet.”

She smiled a slow, teasing smile. “And you knew that wasn’t enough. Being such an expert on babies and everything.”

He was struck once again by the idea that this was their wedding night. That if there wasn’t a baby asleep in the next room, he might now be slowly lifting that sweater up over her head. He might be unhooking that hot-pink bra of hers and stripping her naked.

But of course, if there wasn’t a baby asleep in the next room, then there wouldn’t have been a wedding to begin with. Let alone a wedding night.

Suddenly she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand. Her gaze was soft, her touch gentle. “Thanks for taking such good care of us.”

For a solid heartbeat—maybe longer—his brain seemed to completely stop working. He couldn’t remember all the reasons why touching her was such a bad idea. All he knew was how much he wanted her. Not just in bed, but here. Like this. Looking up at him as if he was a decent guy who deserved a woman like her.

Before he could give in to the temptation to let her go on thinking that, he grabbed her hand in his and gently pulled it away from his face. Backing up a step, he said, “You should go to bed. Catch up on that sleep you’ve been missing.”

He even used his I’m-the-boss tone.

“Right.” She gave a chipper little salute. “Got it, boss.”

Wendy had been so sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She’d been positive she’d find herself waking at every sound coming from Peyton’s room. She feared that she’d lie awake in bed thinking about the moment in the hall. But instead of the sleepless night she expected, she woke ten hours later to sun streaming in her bedroom window, feeling more rested than she had in weeks. Then she bolted upright in bed as panic clogged her heart. She’d slept through the night. Which meant she’d slept through Peyton waking and needing her God only knew how many times.

Wendy dashed down the hall and into Peyton’s room, skidding to a halt beside the crib. It was empty. Her heart doubled its already accelerated rate. Where could—

“Morning.”

She spun around to see Jonathon seated in the rocking chair, Peyton nestled on his lap as he fed her a bottle. Wendy pressed a hand to her chest, blowing out a whoosh of air, willing her heart rate to slow.

“You have her,” she muttered. “She’s fine.”

Jonathon gave her a once-over, his gaze lingering on the tank top and boxers she always slept in. Finally his eyes returned to hers. “What did you think had happened to her?”

Wendy tugged at the hem of the thin white cotton, resisting the urge to glance down to verify just how thin the tank top was. She doubted knowing would bring her comfort. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s the first morning in… what, almost three weeks now, that she hasn’t been the one to wake me. For all I knew, she’d been abducted by aliens. I panicked.”

His lips curved in an amused smile. “Obviously.”

For a second she was entranced by the transformation of his face. He had a smooth, charming smile he used at work. She thought of it as his client-wooing smile. He also had a wolfish grin. That was his I’m-about-to-devour-some-innocent-company expression.

Neither of those reached his eyes. Neither held any warmth.

But this slight, amused twist of his lips wrinkled the corners of his eyes, and it nearly took her breath away.

Before she could respond, or do something really stupid, like melt into a puddle at his feet, he continued. “Peyton and I have been up for hours now.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologize. I’d have woken you if she’d been any trouble.”

Wendy’s eyebrows shot up. When was Peyton not trouble? She fussed a lot. Wanted to be held constantly. Screamed anytime Wendy put her down. In general, made Wendy feel like a real winner as a parent.

“We got up a couple of hours ago,” Jonathon was saying. He continued rocking as he spoke, looking down at Peyton the whole time. “She had her morning bottle. Then we made me some oatmeal. She sat on my lap while I read through some emails. She spit up a little on the office floor. Thank God for the plastic mat my chair sits on, right, Peyton?”

Oookay. Maybe that explained why his smile looked so different than his normal grin. Obviously, it was Jonathon who’d been abducted by aliens and replaced by some sort of pod person. The man before her bore no resemblance to the cold and calculating businessman she’d dealt with for the past five years.

Unfortunately, this new guy was way more appealing, which was so annoying.

Jonathon looked up at her, his expression clouding with concern. “Anything wrong?”

“No, I… Why?”

“You looked a little, faint or something.” “No. I’m… great. Fantastic. But hungry. That’s it. I must be hungry.”

“Okay.” The concern lining his brow had taken on a decidedly skeptical gleam. As though he suspected she might need to spend a little time in a padded room. “Why not get dressed and grab yourself some breakfast. Peyton and I will be fine here.”

As if to signal her assent, Peyton blinked up at him with wide blue eyes, then gave the bottle a particularly vigorous suck before sighing and allowing her eyes to drift closed. She looked for all the world like a baby completely happy and at peace.

Emotion choked Wendy’s throat, something that felt unpleasantly like envy. She’d worked her butt off for that baby over the past few weeks, turned her life upside down, prepared to battle her family to the end. And yet Peyton had never once looked up at her with dreamy contentment. Then again, Jonathon always had been quick to win over the ladies.

Wendy sighed. “I wish she was half as peaceful in my arms as she is with you.”

“Why do you say that?”

Because if growing up a Morgan had taught her anything, it was that the best way to deal with negative emotions was to voice them aloud. Get them out into the open rather than letting them simmer. Still, admitting such a feeling was unpleasant, so she softened her words with a diffident shrug. “She seems to fight me constantly. Makes me wonder if—” Wendy blew out a breath. “I don’t know, if she knows something I don’t. If she knows I don’t have what it takes to be a good mother.”

When she looked back at Jonathon, his smile was still there, but the humor in his eyes had dimmed to understanding.

“The thing about dealing with babies—” he gently pulled the bottle nipple from Peyton’s mouth, then maneuvered her so her belly rested against his shoulder “—it’s about five percent instinct and ninety-five percent experience. Plus, they’re very intuitive—that’s all they’ve got. So if you’re nervous, she’ll pick up on it and she’ll be nervous too.”

Jonathon gave Peyton’s back several thumps. After about the tenth, she burped without even opening her eyes.

“How’d you do that? I can never get her to burp.”

“Like I said. It’s experience. If she’s been a difficult baby so far, it’s not because she has you pegged as a bad parent. You just don’t know all the tricks yet. Besides, she’s been through a lot in her short life.”

Was it really that simple? Time would heal all wounds? Watching Peyton sleep on Jonathon’s shoulder, Wendy certainly hoped so. But she couldn’t help worrying if there was more to it than that. That there were deficiencies no amount of experience could compensate for. After all, she’d never be Peyton’s real mother.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Jonathon added, “Give her some time. Give yourself some time too.” Then Jonathon let out a bark of laughter. “Jeez, I sound like Dr.

Phil.”

She laughed along with him, despite the lump of sorrow burrowing into her chest. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone at work.”

“Thanks.”

A moment of silence stretched between them. She should leave. Take advantage of Peyton’s sleep to go shower or something. Yet she found her feet rooted to the ground as she watched him rocking the tiny infant.

“Why aren’t you a father?” she asked, almost before she realized she meant to say it.

He arched an eyebrow.

Heat crept into her cheeks. “I mean, clearly you’re great with kids. It seems like a no-brainer that you should have some of your own.”

“I get frustrated enough trying to get Matt to clean up his third of the office.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’ve never had any desire to be a father.” His tone was harsh, leaving no room for doubt. The touchy-feely portion of their discussion was over. “She should be asleep for a couple of hours at least. You should take advantage of it and get some breakfast.”

“Thanks. I will.”

She left the room without looking back, but with his words still echoing in her mind. He’d never wanted to be a father. Yet he’d just signed up for a two-year gig. She’d assumed when he asked her to marry him that he wouldn’t be playing an active role in raising Peyton. But less than twenty-four hours in and he’d cared for Peyton more than she had.

He was going to an awful lot of trouble to keep her around. She could only hope she was half as good an assistant as he thought she was. Because she was certainly going to need to earn her keep.

Since he’d insisted repeatedly that he didn’t need her, she wandered down to the kitchen for breakfast. She’d never even stepped into his house before last night. It wasn’t quite what she’d expected. Like Matt, a few years before, Jonathon had bought one of the ridiculously expensive craftsman houses in Old Palo Alto. Though the homes were aging and modest, the neighborhood was one of the more expensive in the country. The interior of Jonathon’s house had been renovated to its early-20th-century glory with meticulous detail. The furniture was a collection of authentic Mission antiques and clean-lined Japanese pieces that complemented them. She found the kitchen surprisingly well stocked. Not in the mood to cook anything, she rummaged through his pantry until she found a box of Pop-Tarts. She eyed them warily for a second—because Jonathon so did not seem like the Frosted Strawberry Pop-Tart type—then snagged a package and headed back upstairs.

She took a leisurely shower, nibbling on the pastry as she dressed. Jonathon had never been one of those men who didn’t know how to ask for help. If he’d needed her before now, he would have woken her up. She’d gotten enough phone calls at six o’clock in the morning over the years to know that. Whatever he was doing with Peyton, he didn’t need her immediately. Confident that Peyton must still be asleep, she took the time to linger over her grooming in a way she hadn’t in the past couple of weeks. She did things like brush her hair. Floss her teeth. And put on ChapStick.

The rest had done wonders for her. Not only had she finally gotten a decent night’s sleep, but obviously Jonathon had handled Peyton with perfect competence. Just as he’d said he would. That one small thing renewed her faith in this whole endeavor.

They had a week before they left for Texas. Which was more than enough time for them to settle into enough of a routine to fool her parents and family about their relationship. Jonathon obviously knew enough about babies that he’d be able to help her over the rough spots she was sure to encounter.

They’d spend a quick weekend in Texas convincing her family that they were Peyton’s perfect guardians. Then they’d head back to Palo Alto and their lives would return to normal. Or as normal as they could be since she and Jonathon were now married and living together. All in all, life seemed damn good.

Once she’d verified that Peyton wasn’t asleep in the nursery, she headed downstairs. She was about halfway down the stairs when she heard voices. Trepidation tripped along her nerves as she paused, head tilted to better hear the conversation coming from the kitchen.

Heart pounding, she made her way there. It could be Ford or Matt. Or a neighbor. Or… Then she heard it. Just outside the swinging door leading into the kitchen. A deep Texas twang.

“We would have come earlier if you’d given us more warning that y’all were fixin’ to get married.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, fighting back a burst of panic as she blew out a long breath. Then she shoved open the door and walked into the kitchen. To face her family.