Читать книгу The Baby Project / Second Chance Baby: The Baby Project - SUSAN MEIER, Susan Meier - Страница 8

ON THE DRIVE OUT TO Montauk, Darius called ahead to let the staff know they would be arriving.

Clicking off his call, he faced Whitney. “There’s a nursery.”

“Really? That’s great.”

“Yes. My father and Missy had been staying at the house when they were in the accident.”

Sadness tiptoed through her at the loss of her friend, but she focused on the job she had to do for Missy. “So there wouldn’t happen to be a nanny?”

“No. Their nanny was a young woman from Greece. She went home immediately after the funerals.”

“Too bad.”

He shrugged. “Not really. I’m sure we can easily hire someone.”

Whitney smiled noncommittally, then her gaze fell to Gino who was asleep in his car seat. She should have started Darius’s baby lessons the minute they got into the limo. She knew what to do and his hands could be the hands that carried out her instructions tonight. But now Gino was asleep and probably wouldn’t awaken until they arrived. And when he awakened, he’d be crying. Then Darius would see her struggle and fumble.

Sucking in a soft breath, she told herself not to borrow trouble. Everything would work out if she just kept a cool head.

The limo pulled up to an iron gate and the driver used a combination on a keypad to open it. As they drove up the wide, circular drive to get to the enormous house, Whitney’s heart kicked into overdrive. With bare tree branches blowing in the January breeze the estate had a cold, deserted feel to it. An ominous mood that almost made her shiver. And definitely made her wonder if this was the right choice. Darius Andreas was a stranger and she’d agreed to live with him.

Whitney unbuckled Gino as the driver opened the door. He helped her out and Darius stepped out behind her, then reached inside for the baby.

Refusing to panic or let her imagination run wild over the cold, empty feeling that surrounded her, Whitney followed him to the front door, where he hit a few buttons on a hidden security panel, then opened the door.

They walked onto white marble tile in the echoing foyer. A curved stairway led the way to the second floor. A huge crystal chandelier awakened with light when Darius hit the switch as an older woman wearing a tidy black suit walked into the foyer to greet them.

“This is Mrs. Tucker,” Darius said, turning to Whitney then Mrs. Tucker with a smile. “Mrs. T, this is Whitney. She’s Gerard Ross’s daughter.”

Mrs. Tucker nodded once. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Whitney returned her smile. Though her parents hadn’t had servants while she was growing up, and she herself had never had anything more than a cleaning service, her parents now had a full staff for their home on Park Avenue. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Mrs. Tucker.”

“You’re in the guest suite in the right wing upstairs. Geoffrey will get your bags from the limo.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Tucker turned to leave, but a thought struck Whitney and she stopped her. “Where’s the nursery?”

“In the left wing beside the master suite and Mr. Andreas.”

“Will the nanny also be beside the nursery?”

“Yes, ma’am. The nanny’s quarters are on one side. Mr. Andreas’s are on the other.”

That just didn’t sit right. Not because of the unexpected jealousy that slithered through her at the thought of another woman being a door or two away from Darius’s bedroom, but because she felt as if she were being eased out. She hadn’t questioned Darius talking her into living at the house in Montauk. Her fears had actually caused her to be relieved he’d thought of it. But now that he’d assigned her to a room across the house from the nursery, suspicions rose in her. He wanted the baby at his house, wanted her at the other side of the mansion. What was he up to?

“Why am I not near the nursery?”

Holding Gino in the baby carrier, Darius stepped forward, caught her arm and directed her to the stairway as Mrs. Tucker scrambled away, obviously glad Darius would field the question.

“I thought you’d prefer privacy, particularly since Mrs. Tucker has agreed to sleep in the nanny’s room to help with Gino until we get a regular nanny.”

He sounded sincere, genuine. But this was a skilled negotiator, a smart businessman, a charming man. And her fears about caring for Gino had blinded her to the way he’d been calling the shots. That ended here. That ended now.

“Isn’t there another suite close to the nursery?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’d like that one, then.”

Darius stopped walking. His black onyx eyes snared hers, she was sure, in a show of strength, ready to meet her challenge. But within seconds the expression in his dark orbs shifted from serious to sensuous.

As if he only now realized how close they were standing beside each other on the stairs, he pulled in a breath. Tension rose up, shimmering through her. This man was attracted to her. There was no better aphrodisiac for a woman than the realization that a powerful, sexy man wanted her.

Her.

And she’d just insisted she be in a room closer to the nursery, closer to him.

She almost told him to forget about her request for a room change, but knew that if she did he’d realize it was because of their attraction. She also remembered it was her responsibility to love Gino and maybe even to protect him from overbearing Darius, and by God, she intended to. If that meant she needed to be close to him too, she’d handle it.

She smiled, hoping to appear to be a woman who hadn’t even been slightly affected by the way he’d looked at her. “I take my responsibilities seriously, Darius. Though I’m glad Gino will be close to the nanny we hire, I want to be close too. The will says we share custody. I was given a job. I intend to do it.”

His serious eyes suddenly filled with mischief that sent her pulse scrambling. “So you want to be across the hall—” he smiled “—from me?”

She stared into his sexy dark eyes with every nerve ending in her body humming and the blood in her veins virtually singing. Her voice squeaked when she said, “Yes.”

“So be it. I’ll have Mrs. Tucker tell Geoffrey to put your things in the room across the hall from mine.”

With that he pulled out his cell phone, turned and walked up the stairs. Whitney nearly collapsed on the stairway. She heard him speaking on the phone, instructing someone to ready the room across the hall from his, and guessed he was talking to Mrs. Tucker. She hastily climbed the stairs with shaky legs and followed Darius to the nursery. But two steps inside the door, she froze.

A mobile over the cherrywood crib zapped her back in time. She could have been standing in Layla’s nursery. The colors of the wall were different, but most of the furniture and lots of the toys were the same. So were the scents.

Darius carried the baby inside. “I think he needs a change. I’d offer to do it,” he smiled engagingly, “but I’ve never changed a diaper in my entire life.”

Smothered by thoughts of her baby, Whitney couldn’t get her legs to move or her mouth to form words. Memories rolled through her mind. In perfect Technicolor she saw the vision of Layla standing up in her crib, holding the bars, crying for her mother. She remembered the Christmas gifts she had bought and hidden in the closet as if little Layla would somehow know to look for them. It had been almost a year before she had been able to clear out the nursery, if only because she couldn’t step inside without crumbling.

But Darius didn’t seem to notice her paralysis. Pulling Gino out of the baby carrier, he said, “I’d be happy to do it, though, if you want to teach me.”

Whitney cleared her throat. “Sure.” Relief swamped her. For as much as she didn’t want Darius taking over Gino’s life, with her grief perilously close to the surface she simply couldn’t handle touching Gino right now. Whether she liked it or not, take-charge Darius was saving her.

She glanced around until she saw the changing table. She pointed at it. “Take him over there.”

Darius carried the sleepy baby to the changing table.

Whitney frowned. “We left the diaper bag in the car.”

“Geoffrey will get it. But there should already be diapers here somewhere. I told the staff to make sure the nursery was stocked.” With one hand holding Gino in place on the table, he opened the doors of the cupboard beneath it. “Ah. There they are.” He reached in and pulled one out with a smile. “The staff is very efficient.”

She took a cautious step to the changing table. “So I see.”

“Now what?”

Forcing back the memories, she pulled in a slow, cleansing breath. Her grief subsiding, she strolled closer. “Unsnap his pajamas and slide him out.”

He unsnapped the one-piece pajamas but was a little rough in getting Gino’s arm out. She laid her hand on top of his. “Gentler.”

“Okay.” He peeked over at her and smiled stupidly. “His skin is soft, like velvet.”

She remembered thinking that very thing the first time she held Layla and swallowed back the grief, pushed back the memory of the nurse laying her brand-new baby girl into her arms. “I know.”

When Gino was out of his pajamas and wearing only his diaper, Whitney pointed at the tabs of his diaper and said, “Yank on those to open the diaper.”

He yanked on the tabs and to everyone’s joy, the diaper was only wet.

Darius said, “Whew.”

Whitney couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Okay, toss that in the container beside the changing table.” She motioned to the available diaper pail. “Slide another diaper under him, fasten the tabs, put him into clean pajamas and you’re done.”

Darius followed her instructions, needing another reminder about being gentle with Gino’s little arms and legs as he tucked them into pajamas. But again he only smiled when she told him.

Her suspicions about Darius came tumbling back. He was too nice. Too eager. Once again she wondered if he wasn’t trying to edge her out. “I’m surprised you want to learn all this.”

He caught her gaze. “Gino is my family now.”

“Oh. So you’re really getting into the daddy thing?” Her voice dripped with skepticism as she asked the question, but she couldn’t help it. A single man—a single rich man—who wanted to care for a baby was more than an anomaly. It was downright weird.

“My dad didn’t have a lot of time for me.” He peered over at her. “Or my brothers, and I don’t want that to happen to Gino. If I’m to be his male influence, I want to do my end of the duties.”

“So you’re going to learn how to do everything? ”

To her surprise, he wasn’t insulted. He laughed. “Hey, I just changed a diaper. I think my commitment has been proven.”

Not even close. Particularly since she didn’t understand why he was making such a hands-on commitment.

Sure, he didn’t want Gino to grow up without a dad. She got it. But there was more here. Her lawyer’s instincts had gone from suspicious to downright positive there was something here she was missing.

“Okay, then tomorrow morning, we’ll hit the ground running with your baby lessons.”

He laughed, but Whitney wasn’t kidding. Not just because she was afraid to touch Gino too much, but because she wanted to push Darius to the wall, give him so much baby time he would own up to what was really going on.

When the baby was dressed, Darius pulled him off the table and gave him a quick hug and kissed his cheek. “Good night, little guy.”

Then he handed the baby to Whitney. Preoccupied with his motives, she didn’t realize what he was about to do and had to scramble to catch Gino.

But the second the yawning baby was in her arms, the feel of his ultra-soft pajamas and smooth skin kicked her back in time again. Especially, when she brought Gino to her and hugged him. The second the little boy was snuggled against her, sadness overwhelmed her. The hollow, empty feeling of loss. Echoes of Layla’s giggles rolled through her brain. Memories of her lifeless body haunted her.

She pulled Gino away from her shoulder and swallowed. Then, for Darius’s benefit, she offered the baby a wobbly smile. “Good night, Gino,” she whispered hoarsely, hoping Darius didn’t notice she was trembling.

Because she wanted to cry. She missed her baby. She yearned for the life she’d lost. Was that so bad? So hard to understand?

She stopped. No. That wasn’t so bad. Or so difficult to comprehend. In fact, the smart way to handle her situation with Gino might be to tell Darius about Layla and Burn. She didn’t want his sympathy, but it was clear now that she would have difficulty getting adjusted to caring for a baby. Soon Darius would notice. It would be better to get the story out in the open and solicit his help than to have him see her stumble and question her ability to care for his little brother.

But tonight wasn’t the night for that conversation. With his motives now in question, she knew she had to wait a bit, see what he was up to before she bared her soul. If he was trying to get the baby away from her, she didn’t want to hand him over on a silver platter. She’d wait. See if he didn’t tip his hand or, alternatively, convince her that his motives were good.

Once the baby was in bed, Darius caught Whitney’s arm and turned her to the door. “It’s late. I’ll show you to your room then we can have dinner.”

Exhausted, confused and aching for privacy, she woodenly said, “I’m too tired for dinner.”

“Really?” As they stepped out of the nursery and into the hall, he closed the door behind them. “I instructed Mrs. Tucker to have the cook make chicken and dumplings.”

She turned, startled. “Chicken and dumplings?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

How could he know her favorite food?

“I called your dad while you were in your apartment packing for the weekend.” he said, undoubtedly answering the expression of confusion on her face, and directed her to walk to a door a few feet down the hall. “I figured if you could be kind enough to let me have at least the weekend with the three of us at my home, I could be gentleman enough to assure you ate well.”

She quickened her steps down the hall, wishing he hadn’t done something so nice when she was so tired, but at least slightly more comfortable with him. “I’ll have some for lunch tomorrow.”

She wasn’t sure why she expected him to argue, but her suspicions were allayed even more when he simply said, “Good enough.”

He stopped at a door only a few feet from the nursery. “Your suite?”

Feeling a tad foolish, she retraced her steps and stopped in front of him. He smiled slightly. Sexily.

Strange schoolgirl nervousness swept through her, reminding her of the first time she’d ever stood by a door with a boy, knowing he was about to kiss her goodnight. Awareness tingled through her bloodstream. Her breathing went shallow and her legs turned to rubber. It had been so long since she’d reacted to a man that she’d forgotten the wonderful discomfort.

But Darius caught the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door, revealing a soft green-and-yellow room to her. Beyond the sitting room furnished with a sage-colored sofa and chair, accented by a cherrywood armoire with matching cherrywood end tables, was an open door leading to a bedroom. She could see patches of a yellow-and-sage-green bedspread. See the closed yellow drapes.

Her heart skipped a beat. The suite was calm, soothing. So different from her cool aqua and brown bedroom in her condo that she felt as if she was entering another world.

“Is something wrong?”

She spun to face him. “No. It’s—” Warm, inviting, comforting. She swallowed. “—Lovely. I’m sure I’ll be fine here.”

“Let me make sure everything really is ready before I leave you.” He stepped inside the sitting room, casually looking from left to right as he made his way to the bedroom.

Confusion buffeted her as she followed him inside. From a cursory glance into the room, it was clear that while she and Darius had been in the nursery, Mrs. Tucker had sent the staff to ready the room. He had no reason to check their work, unless he was stalling. Or unless the staff was so new to him that he didn’t trust them?

That had to be it.

When he stepped inside the room she’d be sleeping in, a fresh ripple of unease passed through Whitney. It felt odd, uncomfortable to have a man who’d clearly had a sexual reaction to her standing beside the bed she would sleep in. Her chest tightened. Stupid nervousness rose up in her again, reminding her that it had been a long time, maybe too long, since she’d been alone with a man.

But his gaze was casual, touching the queen-sized bed, the bare dresser, the pale sage club chairs arranged by the window for reading.

After he’d seen everything in the bedroom, his peek into the master bath caused his expression to turn puzzled, and she had no idea why. The vanity was white oak with a glass countertop. The floors were Calcutta marble slab. A separate custom-glass tile shower was utilitarian, but the oversize, extra-deep soaking tub almost caused her to sigh with joy. She could have a bath. A nice long bath to ease away the tension and grief of this long, long day. That tub would be her haven tonight.

He glanced at her then quickly away. His expression was so odd that she peeked into the bathroom again. Her gaze lit on the huge tub and suddenly her face flamed with color.

Of course, a woman saw the tub as a haven. A man saw it as a playground.

Their eyes met and the warm syrupy feeling she’d had when she’d first seen him returned. She reminded herself he was handsome. Reminded herself that being attracted to him made her normal. Even congratulated herself on finally, finally, being attracted to someone again after three long years of mourning her deceased husband. But she concluded with a reminder that she didn’t want to get involved with anyone—ever. She’d never again give another person that much power over her life.

Plus, she had custody of Darius’s baby brother. The little boy whose vote on his board of directors was hers. All this “attraction” could simply be Darius angling to get on her good side so she’d vote his way at directors’ meetings.

Darius rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and pointed at her door. “Since you’re tired and I have things to do, I’ll be going.”

“Oh.” That surprised her. Wouldn’t someone who intended to use their attraction stay? Flirt? Instead, it seemed he couldn’t wait to get away.

Disappointment flooded her, which rattled her. She didn’t want him to be attracted to her, but since he was, having him not act on the attraction was the second-best thing. She shouldn’t be disappointed.

She forced a smile. “Okay. Great.” She headed out of the bedroom too, walking with him through the sitting room.

At the door, he was even more nervous. When their gazes bumped, she knew why. They stood about a foot apart, at the door, saying goodbye. He looked down at her. She gazed up at him. Attraction shimmied between them. The urge to kiss goodbye was like a physical thing. So strong, yet so foreign, it paralyzed her.

For the first time since her husband’s suicide, she wasn’t thinking about her broken life. In fact, it wasn’t even getting half of her attention. His nearness dominated her mind. She couldn’t think beyond the fear that he’d kiss her.

Then she realized she didn’t fear he’d kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. What she felt was glorious, spine-tingling anticipation. Not fear.

Dear God.

Curiosity and confusion combined and rumbled through her. How could she possibly be so attracted to Darius Andreas that she couldn’t ignore it? That she wanted more.

But he didn’t kiss her. He didn’t even try. Instead he grabbed the doorknob at the same time that she did and their fingers brushed. Though she jerked away, the mere touch sent a maelstrom through her. It had been three long years since she’d been married, and for months before that her husband hadn’t been interested in her. She hadn’t been touched by a man she found attractive in nearly four years. Sensation after sensation poured through her, almost embarrassing in their intensity.

Darius quickly headed out the door. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

The door closed behind him before she could even answer. Knowing it was coming, she quashed her confusing disappointment when it was just a wisp, before it had a chance to fully form, because it was ridiculous. Stupid.

She shook her head. After that little episode by the door, she didn’t have any doubt that Darius was attracted to her. After the way he ran, she also knew he didn’t want to be.

And that was good.

Wasn’t it?

She sighed with disgust at her foolish ambiguity. This weekend was not about an inappropriate attraction. It was about figuring out how they’d raise Gino together, about helping Gino grow accustomed to them as they got to know each other—

Worry gripped her. She couldn’t tell Darius about losing her husband and child without making herself look like an empty, sad, still-grieving woman, who wasn’t ready to help him with Gino. Though part of her knew that was true and she should be honest, the other part warned her to tread lightly with this man. He was rich, powerful. If she showed her weakness too soon, he could take her to court, seeking full custody, citing her incompetence. Then Gino would be raised by him. Alone. And she wouldn’t be able to fulfill Missy’s wish that she love her baby.

She couldn’t let Missy’s son be raised only by Darius. Hadn’t he gotten her into his house and almost put her into a room on the other side of the mansion? He’d have poor Gino in boarding school before he was four.

The thought of sweet baby Gino in a boarding school shored up her defenses and she felt herself growing ready to protect him. She would fight to her last breath before she let him put that child in boarding school—ever. And that wouldn’t be their only argument. She and Darius would have hundreds of fights over the course of raising his half-brother.

That thought caused her to fall to a chair in complete shock. In the confusion of the day, she hadn’t carried this guardianship all the way through in her head. But it was suddenly abundantly clear that whether they wanted it or not, this child bound them forever.

They might as well be married.

Or divorced.

Good God.

What had Missy gotten her into?

Tonight was supposed to have been the night she did her laundry. Instead, here she was in the home of a virtual stranger, with a baby who made her relive the best and worst part of her life and a man she was so attracted to she sometimes couldn’t breathe in his presence.

It would be a miracle if she survived the weekend, let alone a lifetime.