Читать книгу Baby for the Greek Billionaire - Susan Meier - Страница 10

WHEN THE BABY AWAKENED at about three, Darius bolted up in bed. For a few seconds he was disoriented, then he remembered he was in the hideous floral and lace master bedroom of the house in Montauk. By the time he remembered Gino was in the room next door, the little boy’s crying had stopped.

He got out of bed anyway, grabbed one of the pairs of jeans he’d had his staff pack and messenger to the estate and jumped into them. Heading out of the closet, he opened another drawer and snagged a T-shirt.

In a few long strides, he was at the door that connected his room to the nursery. Mrs. Tucker sat in the rocker feeding Gino, who gulped noisily.

He tiptoed into the room, but Mrs. Tucker laughed. “No need to be quiet now. He’s wide awake.”

Leaning against the crib, Darius crossed his arms on his chest. “And by the looks of things he’s starving too.”

Mrs. Tucker snorted a laugh. “They always are.”

“Always? You mean this isn’t an isolated incident? He’s going to be getting up at three every night?”

“Maybe not on the dot, but, yes, he’ll be waking somebody up in the middle of the night every night until he learns to sleep for long stretches without needing a bottle.”

Staring at the dark-haired, dark-eyed little baby, Darius said only, “Hum.” Gino was so sturdy that he looked packed into the green one-piece pajama. His hair sort of stuck up in all directions, making him even cuter.

Gino stopped sucking and Mrs. Tucker set the bottle on the table by the rocker. She lifted him up and he suddenly belched loudly. Mrs. Tucker laughed. “Well, now that takes care of that.”

She reached for a tissue in the box also on the table beside the rocker and wiped away white gunk from Gino’s mouth.

Darius winced. “Am I ever going to get the hang of this?”

“Eventually.” She caught his gaze and smiled. “And just when you do the rules will change.”

Darius’s face fell. “What rules?”

Settling Gino on her lap to rock him, Mrs. Tucker laughed again. “Not exactly rules, but the things you’ll need to do. He’s a baby now. In a few months he’ll be a toddler. Then there are the terrible twos—”

“Terrible twos?”

“You don’t want to know about that yet.”

He did but he also didn’t. Because right now, falling asleep in Mrs. Tucker’s arms, Gino looked like an angel. Darius swallowed. Strong, protective feelings rose up in him, feelings more intense than anything he’d ever felt.

He pushed them down. He might intend to be a part of this kid’s life, but these feelings were weird. They had to be wrong.

Mrs. Tucker rose from the rocker and settled the sleeping baby in the crib. “Better go back to bed. Morning comes quickly when you have a baby.”

Darius headed for the door. “Good night.”

Heading for the opposite door, Mrs. Tucker whispered, “Good night.”

In his room, he crawled back into bed. He didn’t like the idea that Mrs. Tucker had to do double duty, as his estate manager and the temporary nanny, so he set his alarm for six, hoping he’d get up before the baby.

When it went off a few short hours later, he didn’t balk or linger. He quickly pulled on the jeans from the night before and a fisherman-knit sweater and, paying no mind to his bare feet, raced to the nursery.

“Good morning.”

Dressed in jeans and a pretty blue sweater that brought out the blue of her eyes, Whitney stood on the far side of the crib, watching Gino, who was still asleep.

“Do you want to learn how to feed him this morning?”

He took an instinctive step back. He and Whitney had shared a powerful few minutes at her bedroom door the night before, but she didn’t appear to be any the worse for the wear. Like him, she seemed to want to ignore their chemistry.

And he did want to feed the baby. But before he could say that, Gino’s eyes fluttered open. He yawned and stretched and then let out with a yelp.

“That’s your cue,” Whitney said with a laugh. “Change his diaper, while I get a bottle.”

Whitney calmly walked to the small fridge in the room and retrieved a bottle, which she put in the warmer.

Not wanting to jeopardize the peace between them or have Gino wake poor, sleeping Mrs. Tucker, Darius carried Gino to the changing table and simply did the things he’d done the night before when he changed the baby’s diaper and put him into a clean sleeper.

Gino wasn’t really happy about the arrangement and he began to scream. Darius noticed that Whitney was preoccupied with staring at a bottle warmer that seemed not to need her attention. It confused him that she didn’t react to Gino’s crying, but he wanted to learn how to care for this kid. He also wanted Whitney’s help. He wanted them to get along, be a team. He couldn’t complain about the tasks she gave him to do. He had to do them.

When the light on the warmer went out, Darius was already on the rocker, holding screaming Gino over his shoulder.

Whitney winced. “Do you still want to feed him?”

In spite of Gino’s screaming, Darius casually said, “Sure. But you’re going to have to tell me what to do.”

“Arrange him across your lap so that his head is supported by your forearm.”

Peeling crying Gino off his shoulder wasn’t an easy task. He stiffened his limbs and refused to settle on Darius’s lap.

Whitney handed him the bottle. “Here. Take this. Let him see the bottle is coming and he’ll calm down.”

With both hands busy with the baby, Darius didn’t have a clue how to take the bottle, but he secured Gino as best he could with one hand and managed to get the other free to take the bottle.

He would have criticized Whitney for not helping, except as soon as he had the bottle in his hand, Gino began to calm down.

“Now, just press the nipple to his lips and he’ll do the rest.”

To Darius’s complete amazement, as soon as he nudged the nipple against Gino’s lips he not only stopped crying, he also started suckling loudly.

He laughed with relief. “Wow. That was different.”

“Babies are different. They can’t talk so you have to understand their crying and sometimes watch their body language.”

“There’s a lot to learn.”

As Gino greedily gobbled his milk, Whitney walked away from the rocker and paced the room. Darius watched her for a few seconds, confused. She was in the room, but detached. Not like someone who didn’t want to help, but like … well, a stranger. That was when he realized she might not know Gino any more than he did.

“So why did Missy make you guardian?”

She faced him, her expression rye. “You mean aside from the fact that she wanted to make sure her baby had a female influence?”

He laughed. “Yes. Why you?”

“Missy and I were very close from university until the day she met your dad.”

“Really?”

“Her dad had left her mom before Missy was six, and her mom was an alcoholic who went in and out of rehab. Because she had money enough to have a maid, somebody who by default took care of Missy, no one ever realized how alone Missy was. So after we met, she began to come to my parents’ house with me on weekends and holidays.” She shrugged. “We were like sisters.”

“And then she met my dad and none of us saw either one of them again.”

She laughed sadly. “Missy really loved your dad.”

“And he loved Greece.”

“And that’s where they lived.”

They fell silent again. When the baby was done eating, he showed Whitney the empty bottle. “Now what?”

“Now you have to burp him.”

“Burp him?”

“You hold him like this,” Whitney said as she lifted Gino from Darius’s lap up to his shoulder. “And pat his back.”

As she said the words, she demonstrated by patting the baby’s back. He burped noisily.

Whitney smiled and set Gino on his lap again. “That feels better, doesn’t it, little guy?”

This close, her smoky, sexy voice curled around Darius and he nearly squeezed his eyes shut. That voice would be trouble if he heard it for several weeks with her living under his roof. Even the way she’d refused dinner the night before had been breathy and sensual. And then there was that tub. And the look that had passed between them.

He bounced out of the chair. “So do we take him down to breakfast with us or what?”

“Is there a high chair by the table?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I think we should keep him with us.”

“Okay.”

After all the time he’d already spent with the baby, Darius didn’t feel uncomfortable holding Gino, but that in itself was odd. The powerful feeling he’d had the night before came back full force. Sacred, reverent, it squeezed his heart and made breathing difficult.

Since his father’s death, everything had happened so fast that he hadn’t had time to think anything through.

But suddenly everything seemed so real. He had a child to raise, responsibilities beyond money and food. This kid would take up his time, change his morning routine, break into his afternoons, want his evenings. The understanding of what he’d taken on was so overwhelming that he felt as though he needed a minute.

He held Gino out to Whitney. “Could you hold him while I grab some shoes?”

She hesitated and Darius nearly groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was give her the impression he didn’t want the task of caring for the baby. He wanted her to see his commitment.

“You know what? Never mind. I’ll take him into my bedroom with me.”

To his surprise, Whitney smiled. “And what will you do with him while you’re putting on your shoes?”

He sucked in a breath. “Good question.”

She took Gino from him. “Go get your shoes.”

Relief poured through him. He raced into his bedroom, slid into socks and shoes and was back in the nursery in less than two minutes.

Noting that Gino was in the playpen, he frowned. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Yes.” She reached down and lifted Gino out of the playpen, then handed him to Darius casually, smoothly, but as he took the little boy, she wouldn’t look at him.

He hadn’t expected her to put Gino in the playpen or to immediately pass him back when he returned from getting his shoes. But her not being able to look at him was actually more perplexing.

The night before, he’d walked away from the opportunity to kiss her without any hesitation, even though she was throwing off you-can-kiss-me signals. He’d hoped that walking away would show her that even though he was attracted to her, he didn’t intend to follow through. Yet she still behaved in an overly cautious manner around him.

She strode to the door as if nothing were amiss and held it open while he came through with the baby. Following her down the steps, he stared at her stiff back. He’d never met a woman who was so hot one minute and so cold the next. It was almost as if she could turn her emotions off.

Which, in some ways, was good. They didn’t want to be attracted to each other. It didn’t work for either of them. And he was turning off his feelings for her every bit as much.

So why did it bother him?

In the breakfast room, which was actually one of several sunrooms along the east wall of the house, she took the tray off the high chair and instructed Darius to set the baby on the seat.

“But don’t let go,” she said, rummaging along the edges of the seat until she found what looked like seat-belts. “We have to buckle him in.”

“Got it,” Darius said, eager to learn. Especially when she didn’t even seem to realize she was giving him lessons.

Another good reason to persuade her to live here with him permanently, not just for a few weeks.

Cook entered the sunroom with coffee and asked what each would like to eat. Darius ordered pancakes. Whitney chose a bagel and cream cheese.

“And should I make the baby’s cereal?”

Darius glanced over at Whitney, who winced. “Wow. It’s been so long since I was around a baby that I forgot that some kids start eating cereal around six months or so.”

Cook proudly said, “He’s been eating cereal for a few weeks now.”

“Then get us the cereal.” She faced Darius. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, I didn’t even know babies ate cereal.”

Cook walked in with a small bowl and a tiny baby spoon. As if recognizing his bowl, the baby slapped his hands on the tray. Cook handed the bowl and spoon to Darius who set them on the table then edged his seat closer to the high chair.

He didn’t even consider opting out of learning how to feed Gino. He wanted to know everything. “So you’re ready for this, huh?”

Gino screeched with joy.

Whitney said, “Just put a little bit of cereal on the spoon and very easily guide it to his mouth.”

Darius did as instructed. Gino greedily took the bit of cereal and smacked his lips. The second bite was a little messier, but Darius just used common sense about getting the spoon and the cereal into Gino’s mouth. After a few spoonfuls, when Gino tried to blow bubbles with it instead of eating it, Darius knew he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“If you’re playing in it rather than eating, I’m guessing you’re done.”

As he set the spoon down, Mrs. Tucker walked in. “Cook didn’t want to start your breakfast until you were free to eat it. So, I thought I’d take Gino upstairs and play with him a bit. I’ll walk through the kitchen to let Cook know she can make your breakfast now.”

Darius rose and helped her get the baby out of the high chair. “Sounds good.”

When she left, the little room fell silent.

Finally, Whitney said, “It’s beautiful here.”

Darius looked out at the steel-gray ocean, the deceptively blue sky. Though the day seemed calm, he knew winds off the sea would make it freezing cold out there. “Yes. I’d forgotten.”

“Did you come here often?”

“After I turned eighteen I did.”

“Why do I get the feeling you were forced?”

Her perceptiveness made him wince. “Because I was. My father gave me access to a five-million-dollar trust fund when I turned eighteen. He told me it was mine but he wanted me to go to college and work for Andreas Holdings. He hadn’t as much as visited after he left my mom, then suddenly he was in my life, ordering me around. Our time here wasn’t always pleasant.”

She toyed with a salt shaker. “I liked your dad.”

He laughed as Cook brought in his pancakes and Whitney’s bagel. When she was gone, he reached for the maple syrup and said, “Most people who didn’t have my dad for a lover or a parent did like him.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s probably true.”

Surprised by her answer, he set the maple syrup on the table. “I thought for sure you’d sing his praises.”

She snorted a laugh. “I know what it’s like to deal with a person who has a public personality and a private one. I had a husband everybody loved.”

His brows rose. So she’d been married? He hadn’t even considered the possibility since she’d kept the last name Ross. But having been married, maybe even having been hurt by a divorce, might explain why she was so nervous around him.

Better than that, though, she’d opened the door for him to question her about her past. He’d been so focused on the baby that he hadn’t really given much thought to the woman who shared custody beyond asking why Missy had chosen her.

Pretending great interest in his coffee, he said, “Everybody loved your husband but you?”

“Oh, I loved him. He loved himself too.” She reached for the cream. “So what are your plans for the day?”

He recognized a change of subject when he heard it and realized that though she’d opened the door to talk about her past, she hadn’t done it deliberately. He was curious about her, but he also knew asking about a husband she no longer had was a tad intrusive. It had no bearing on their situation and was none of his business. And if he wanted to convince her he was harmless, it would be wise to follow her lead and let the subject change.

“Actually, I want to spend as much time with the baby as I can.”

She set her bagel on her plate and studied him. Her narrowed eyes were both suspicious and skeptical. “So, you weren’t kidding. You really want to be a good dad?”

“I want to be a great dad.” The words rolled through him. Now that he’d spent time with Gino, they meant so much more than they had even the day before. Now, he knew the cost. He was taking responsibility for another person.

It didn’t confuse him as it had the night before or overwhelm him the way it had in the nursery that morning, but he was smart enough that it still sort of scared him. Especially since he’d vowed that he wouldn’t be a part-time, no-show dad the way his father had been. Deep down inside, he had to admit he wasn’t entirely sure he could do that. The only role model he’d had was a poor one.

Still, that wasn’t something he could confide to Whitney. Technically, she was still a stranger. So, taking his cue from her when the conversation turned to something she hadn’t wanted to tell him, he also changed the subject.

“What are your plans for the day?”

“I’m working on a class action case with my dad. Depositions are in. He’s read them. I haven’t.” She grimaced. “That’s never happened before.”

Knowing he could get Mrs. Tucker to help him with Gino that morning and eager to make Montauk a comfortable home to Whitney, he turned his attention to his pancakes. “There are three offices in this house. You can have your choice. And you can spend the whole day if you need it. Mrs. Tucker and I will take care of Gino.”

Relief saturated her voice. “Thanks.”

She worked all day, stopping only to have lunch around two, long after Darius and Gino had eaten so she didn’t have to interact with either one of them. But she couldn’t get out of dinner. She arrived in the formal dining room at seven, dressed as she had been all day in jeans and a bulky sweater.

Darius, who was already seated at the head of the table, rose.

He still wore the fisherman-knit sweater and jeans he’d put on in the morning. Holding out the chair at the place beside his, he explained, “I assumed you’d be too busy to change.”

She sat. “Yes. Thank you.”

“My father insisted everything be formal. I’m more accommodating.” He shook out his napkin. “I hope you like Italian.”

“Actually, I love most foods.” She risked a glance at him and fought a quiver of attraction. That morning she’d noticed that he looked very good in the casual clothes, but tonight he hadn’t shaved. The scruffy stubble on his chin and cheeks made him sexy in a disreputable, sinful way. The man was simply too handsome for his own good and she was vulnerable. She hadn’t interacted with a man like this—single and attractive—since she’d met her husband. She was out of practice, attracted and needy. A deadly combination when three feet away from a gorgeous man. Especially when she didn’t want to get involved with another man.

But she couldn’t be a total grouch or, worse, an unappreciative guest. “You don’t have to worry when it comes to me and food. I’d eat constantly if I didn’t have work to keep me busy.”

He laughed. Pinpricks of delight raced up her spine. It had been so long since she’d made a man laugh in simple conversation that she’d forgotten the joy of it.

“I don’t believe it.” His gaze rippled down the lines of her body and lingered on her breasts. “Your figure’s too nice.”

Good Lord! He was flirting with her!

The desire to flirt back shoved at her. It rattled through the recesses of her brain like a prisoner banging the bars of his cell, longing for release. Especially with the joy of having just made him laugh taunting her, reminding her of what it felt like to be normal.

But it had been so long since she’d done anything even remotely like flirt, and he was absolutely the wrong guy to experiment with—

Or was he? They both needed each other too much professionally to cross any lines. He’d walked away from the perfect opportunity to kiss her the night before, proving that he might be attracted to her, but he didn’t intend to follow through. And she was too frightened of relationships to let anything she attempted go any further than flirting. He might actually be the perfect person to practice on.

She smiled, trying not to look obvious, trying not to look self-conscious, trying desperately to look simply like a single woman flirting with a single man. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughed again. “Only the really pretty ones.”

Joy exploded inside her. She’d done it! Or maybe they were doing it. Flirting. Getting her back into the real world. What was a simple conversation for him was turning into a monumental event for her. But she hoped to God he didn’t realize that.

A younger woman served dinner, standing off to the side to attend to their every need, precluding any possibility that the conversation could become intimate. The flirting stopped, but the discussion stayed casual, neutral and she relaxed totally.

At the end of the meal, Darius rose. “How about a game of pool?”

“Pool?”

“You know balls, sticks, table with green felt?”

She laughed then marveled that she had. Maybe her dad was right. Maybe it was time. She wanted so badly to be normal again. Real. Honest. Just herself. And Darius seemed to have the power to help her take the steps.

Still, no good would come of pushing things.

“I don’t think so, I’m—”

“Tired? Really, Ms. Ross? I’m about to suggest you take some vitamins.”

She laughed again, feeling light, young, incredibly carefree. Memories of her other life, her sadness, nudged at her, but she shoved them back. She needed this. She wanted this.

He directed her to the door on the right. “Come on. This house is filled with things to entertain us. It would be a shame not to take advantage. Particularly since we’re going to be spending lots of time together over the next eighteen years. We should get to know each other.”

Fear and elation collided, creating goose bumps on her upper arms. Getting to know each other didn’t have to be something to be afraid of or even something sexual. He wanted the same thing she did. Nothing sinister. Nothing difficult. Just a simple evening spending time together. To get to know each other. Because they had joint custody of a child.

Inclining her head in acceptance, she ignored the fear and tamped down the elation and reminded herself that spending time getting to know each other didn’t have to be a big deal. She didn’t have to tell him about her family that night. She could wait for a more suitable time. Tonight, he was only asking for a game of pool.

“All right.”

The room with the pool table was a huge den. Cherrywood walls and leather furniture gave the space a totally masculine feel.

“Your dad’s room, I assume,” she said, walking to a wall lined with sticks, as Darius gathered and racked the balls.

“Got it in one.” He ambled over to choose a stick. “But before you begin feeling sorry for Missy, take a look around. They might have lived in Greece, but they spent time here. Her influence is all over the place.”

“Really?”

“She’s redone at least three rooms.” He winced. “Including the master bedroom.”

“You don’t like her taste?”

“If you’re asking if I like floral bedspreads and lacy curtains, then no.”

She laughed, glad she’d agreed to spend some time with him. Over the next half hour they played several games of pool and he handily beat her.

“You’re a ringer.”

“Ringers make you believe they’re terrible so they can persuade you to bet them, and then they take your money. I haven’t done that.” He shrugged. “We’re just having a nice friendly few games.”

“With me getting my butt beaten.”

He racked the balls and broke, scattering the colorful orbs across the table with a clack and clatter. In an uncharacteristic turn of events, none of them fell into a pocket.

“Hey! Looks like I get a turn this time.”

She walked around the table, sizing up potential shots. When she found one she liked, she angled her stick across the table, levering her body in sync with the stick.

“No. No. You’ll never make the shot that way.” He strode around the table to her. “Let me help you.” He lowered himself over her, his one hand covering hers on the stick, his other circling around her so he could guide her hand on the handle.

Her nerve endings exploded at the contact. Rivers of molten need rode her blood. And she remembered why they had to be careful. Even about becoming friends. Their attraction was like nitroglycerin. One bump and they could go up in flames.

As if realizing how close he’d put them, he turned his head and caught her gaze. Their faces were only millimeters apart. His warm breath fanned her face. Longing burst inside her. Her fingers itched to touch the stubble on his cheeks and cruise his throat. Just a brush. Just a touch to feel the warmth of another’s skin. To feel the pulse of another heartbeat, to know that she was alive.

His hands shifted from the stick to her shoulders and he lifted her from the awkward position of leaning across the table. For a few seconds, they stood there, barely a foot apart. She watched myriad emotions play across his face, as if he were arguing with himself about whether he should kiss her. It crossed her mind to say something. It crossed her mind to run. This attraction they felt was nothing but wrong, but curiosity and need warred with common sense. This entire night had been an experiment of sorts for her. A return to life. To people. She didn’t want to stop. She almost couldn’t stop. She needed him to kiss her as much as she wanted it.

Slowly his head descended, as if he were giving her plenty of time to step back. She considered it, but stayed frozen, mesmerized, hoping, and in seconds his mouth met hers.

A tsunami of need flooded her, a yearning so strong she shook from it. His hands smoothed from her shoulders, down her back to her hips and nudged her closer. The longing to be held, to be loved, to be touched percolated through her. He satisfied it with another nudge that brought her fully against him. Her breasts nestled against his chest, pebbling her nipples. His mouth moved over hers simply, smoothly, and temptation turned into action as her mouth instinctively opened under his and he deepened the kiss.

Desire thundered through her. Warm, wet need. Her limbs weakened. Her breath hitched. And her brain clicked on again, like a light switch being flipped in a dark, dangerous room.

This is wrong! This is wrong! This is wrong!

The words were a litany in her brain. Not only was she not ready for anything beyond a chaste, experimental kiss, but the night before she’d sensed there was something wrong in his behavior. Something he wanted from her. Or maybe that he was trying to trick her. She shouldn’t be kissing him, clouding the issues.

The sound of someone clearing her throat entered the room and Whitney jumped back like a guilty teenager.

Joni Johnson, the girl who had served dinner, stood by the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Andreas, but Mrs. Tucker asked me to get you. The baby is sick.”