Читать книгу Baby Beneath the Christmas Tree - SUSAN MEIER, Susan Meier - Страница 6

GWEN heard Claire’s soft cries through the small monitor she had on the kitchen counter. Without a second thought she turned and ran back into the hall, through the sitting room of the maid’s quarters that she’d managed to clean before the Teaberrys arrived, and into the bedroom.

“Hey, Claire-bear. I’m here,” she whispered, lifting her baby out of the portable crib. She kissed her warm cheek, changed her into a fresh one-piece sleeper and returned to the kitchen, fighting a funny feeling of confusion in the pit of her stomach.

For some reason or another she’d expected Andrew Teaberry to be older. Like sixty. Not thirty-five or so. She also hadn’t expected fathomless dark eyes or gorgeous black hair. The hitch in her breath and the way her stomach had plummeted when she’d looked at him were also surprises.

Grabbing a bottle from the refrigerator, she told herself to stop thinking about how attractive her new employer was and get her baby fed and into her carrier before he returned from getting his bags. She wasn’t sure how or where they’d work in this dusty house, but she wasn’t assuming anything. From the way he’d instantly dealt with his son for calling her babe, it was clear he wasn’t a man who took well to mistakes or assumptions. So she wouldn’t make any.

She placed the bottle in the warmer she’d brought. As it heated, Claire began to cry. Gwen tried to comfort her, but her crying only grew louder.

“Come on, sweetie. I know you’re hungry, but it will only take a minute to warm your bottle.”

Just then the swinging door swung open and Drew burst inside. His horrified gaze fell to Claire, then swung back to Gwen. “Is that a baby?”

She laughed nervously. “Well, it’s not a Siamese cat.” She rocked her sobbing child, trying to get her to settle down. This was no way for him to meet her baby! “This is my daughter Claire.”

He gaped at her. “You brought your baby to work?”

This time the flip-flop of Gwen’s stomach had nothing to do with the attractiveness of her boss and everything to do with fear. “I told you about Claire in my interview.”

“You told me you had a child. You didn’t say you were bringing her with you.”

Drew’s loud voice caused Claire’s crying to rise in competition. Gwen desperately rocked her, but the baby filled the room with her wails.

Gwen had to shout to be heard. “I did say she was still a bit too young to go to daycare and I don’t have a sitter yet. I thought the conclusion was obvious.”

“I thought you said that to let me know you needed time to look for a sitter.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, but I hired you because I need help. Serious help. You’re not going to have time to care for a baby and do your work.”

Gwen’s heart stopped. He was firing her? He couldn’t! She needed this job. “She’s only three months old! She sleeps a lot. I can handle it.”

He looked at the screaming baby, then bestowed a look upon Gwen that sent a shiver through her. “Really?”

Mustering her courage, she said, “Yes!”

“That’s not how it looks to me. I know how this baby thing goes. I had a crying baby. Brody screamed for three months straight. I failed that semester of university. My wife left me—”

Just then the swinging door bounced closed. Gwen hadn’t even realized it had been opened again. With Claire’s crying and their heated conversation she’d missed Brody walking through the room.

Drew’s face paled, then he squeezed his eyes shut. “Perfect.” Heading for the door, he yelled, “Brody!” Then he pushed out of the kitchen.

The light on the bottle warmer finally declared the milk was warm, and Gwen took her baby to a chair to feed her.

This was not going anything like she’d hoped it would. She fed Claire and then sat at the table, totally confused about what she should do. Technically, Drew hadn’t fired her. And she needed this job. She was not leaving without a fight.

Drew ran into the hallway just in time to see the foyer door close. He grabbed his jacket from the newel post on the stairs where he’d stashed it and headed outside.

Brody bounded toward the SUV around the side of the house.

“What are you going to do?” Drew shouted after his son. “Leave?” He dangled the keys. “You’ll need these. Unless you want to walk.”

“What do you care? Mom’s on her honeymoon. You’re trying to buy some old guy’s company. And I’m stuck here.”

“Look, Brody, if I had a choice we’d be skiing right now.”

Brody snorted.

“We would.” The heavy snow had reduced itself to flurries but it was cold. Bitter cold. And he had work to do. Not knowing what else to say, Drew glanced longingly at the kitchen door. Because the top half of the door was glass, he could see Gwen McKenzie at the table with her baby. He nearly groaned. Could this day get any more complicated?

“I’m sorry you heard what you heard, but truthfully I would have thought by now that you would have guessed your mom and I had a terrible marriage. We were only married for just under a year before we divorced.”

Refusing to look at him, Brody said, “And I’m the cause.”

“No!” He laughed miserably. “Lord, no. Your mom and I had lots of problems before you were born.”

“But I added to them—”

“No!” Drew said again, this time stronger.

“I heard what you said about me screaming all the time.”

“You were colicky. That happens. Babies do not destroy marriages. Adults do. Your mom and I never should have gotten married. But she got pregnant—”

Deliberately, she’d told him later. She’d taken out loans to attend her first semester at Harvard and had known four years’ worth of borrowing that kind of money would put her too far in debt when she graduated. Drew’s family was wealthy. He and Olivia had dated and liked each other. So she’d thought they’d be very happy raising a baby and attending university—all paid for by his parents. But his parents had been furious when Drew told them they had gotten married because she was pregnant, and they’d cut him off. The happy marriage that Olivia had envisioned had quickly become a nightmare.

Still, this wasn’t the time or the way to tell Brody all that. And he wasn’t even sure he should be the one to tell Brody.

It seemed this story would be much better coming from his mother.

“How about if we talk later? Right now, I have a mini-crisis in the kitchen.”

Brody sighed and raised his face to the snow. It looked to Drew as if the cool flakes were settling him down, so when he said, “Go,” Drew headed back to the kitchen.

With a deep calming breath of his own, he opened the kitchen door and stepped inside. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Gwen McKenzie slowly raised her gaze to his, her green eyes wary.

He knew she needed this job. He didn’t have to glance at the now sleeping baby to remember that, but he did, and his heart stuttered in his chest. He’d told Brody he had been colicky, but that had been only half the problem. Neither Drew nor Olivia had had any experience caring for an infant, and they’d had nowhere to turn for help. He knew how loudly a baby could cry, how despondent a parent could feel … how one tiny life really could throw a monkey wrench into the best-laid plans. And his plans to buy Jimmy Lane’s company were precarious at best. Despite the efforts of most of his staff, he knew nothing about the owner of Lane Works except that he was reclusive and demanding. That didn’t give Drew much to go on by way of figuring out how to handle him. So his “plan” was more like a guess.

“I’m sorry, but you having a baby here doesn’t work for me.”

Instead of the tears he’d expected, Gwen McKenzie shook her head and said, “No kidding.”

He gaped at her. Had she just sassed him? Yes, she had. He’d already had a lifetime share of sassing this morning. So his voice shivered with barely controlled anger when he said, “Get your things and leave.”

She rose from the chair. “Fine, but I would think that a guy who can’t get along with his son would like having another parent around for some help and advice.”

An unexpected laugh escaped him. “You think you’re going to straighten out Brody?”

“Nope.” She headed for the door. “But I might have some ideas for how you could.”

He snorted in derision. “Right. You’ve been a parent now … what? All of two months?”

She turned and smiled. “Three. But I was sixteen only a few years ago. I think I might remember a bit more about what it was like than you do.”

Drew’s eyes narrowed and Gwen’s stomach shivered. She knew she should probably shut up, but he was in trouble with Brody and that seemed like her only angle to keep this job. Now that he’d shrugged out of the thick parka, she could not only see his expensive blue sweater, she could also see that the body he’d hidden beneath his jacket was incredible. Soft knit hugged his broad shoulders and flat tummy and stopped at trim hips encased in denim. He was handsome, rich, and he held her fate in his hands …

And she was taunting him? Was she crazy?

“Are you calling me old?”

She should be. She should think that a guy in his mid-thirties was way too old for her. She should think he was too grouchy for her. Instead, all she saw was a handsome, sexy guy who needed her help. And, strangely, even with as many problems as she had of her own, she actually thought she could provide it.

She lifted her chin. Caught his gaze. “No. I’m not calling you old.”

Their gazes clung. Time seemed to be suspended. She had a feeling she didn’t have to tell him she didn’t think he was old because she found him attractive. It was probably written all over her reddening face.

“But you do need me.”

He crossed his arms on his chest as his gaze rippled over her. Suddenly feeling like a downtrodden waif, brought to the castle for the king’s pleasure, Gwen cuddled Claire to her chest.

“You’re dusty.”

That wasn’t at all what she’d expected him to say. So nervous her voice shook, she said, “I cleaned the maid’s quarters so Claire would have somewhere to sleep.”

He said nothing, only narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to figure out if she was lying. So she hastily added, “I brought my vacuum, cleaning solutions and a bucket and mop from home.”

“You know how to clean?”

She frowned. “Of course I know how to clean.” A thought struck her and she said, “You don’t?”

He shook his head.

Her spirits lifted. “There’s another thing I could help you with.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and looked at sleeping Claire again. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he drew the obvious conclusions. Claire wasn’t a bad baby. Gwen knew how to clean. And this place was filthy.

“I won’t even ask for more money.”

His mouth dropped open, then he snorted a laugh. “Right. As if you’re in a position to bargain.”

“Come on,” Gwen said, a slight note of feminine pleading in her voice. She instantly regretted it when his gaze caught hers and that “thing” sprang up between them again. The air she breathed turned hot and shivery. Something like electricity arched between them.

It was another item in the laundry list of problems they had. His son was trouble. The house wasn’t falling apart around them, but did need a good cleaning. She had a baby who might disrupt everything. And they were attracted to each other.

But he also had a business he was trying to buy. In their phone interview he’d told her he needed to be in West Virginia to be close to the seller. And now he needed somebody who could bring order to the chaos of this house.

“Maybe I should ask for more money?” Cheeky, perhaps even a tad over-confident, she strolled over to him. “You’re stuck here. There is no cleaning service in Towering Pines. You’re also lucky you found me—an administrative assistant who doesn’t mind a temporary job and has time to work at your beck and call. You have what? Four weeks to negotiate this deal before Jimmy Lane loses interest and moves on?” She smiled. “I think you’re the one who isn’t in a position to negotiate.”

He held her gaze. “So you’re saying it wouldn’t cause a problem for you if I asked you to clean this kitchen while I left for a conference call?”

“Are you going to give me the raise?”

“How much?”

“Another two thousand.”

His eyes narrowed, but they never left hers. “All right. But you’d better be worth it.”

She strolled away, suddenly seeing that the best way to communicate with this man was as an equal. And maybe that was what Brody was doing wrong? Not quite sure where that thought had come from, she shook her head to dislodge it and went back to the negotiations at hand.

“Sure. I’ll clean in between administrative assistant assignments. As long as you don’t mind that I wear old jeans and ugly sweatshirts.”

He crossed his arms on his chest. “Look around. There’s nobody here to impress. And even if there were this house would ruin any chance we had of impressing them.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Yeah. Big-time.”

“So we have a deal? You work as my administrative assistant when I need you and clean in your downtime. You can dress any way you want and bring your baby.” He caught her gaze again. “As long as you keep her out of my way.”

“Does ‘out of your way’ mean you don’t want to see her? Because I was hoping I could keep her in the same room with me. I have a swing that will rock her to sleep and keep her sleeping for hours.”

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, but in the end he sighed and said, “Fine. But if she cries you leave the room.”

“Got it.”

“Great. As long as we stick to our commitments, this should work out fine.” He walked over and held out his hand to shake on the deal.

When Gwen took it, little sparkles of awareness danced up her arm. Their gazes caught and clung.

Now all they had to do was forget about their attraction.