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“How long will this go on? Someone’s likely to call the cops.” Her boss would love that.
“Nah. The house is soundproofed.”
At her bemused response, he elaborated. “I bought it that way. It cuts down on the freeway noise. And I’ve seen him scream like that for an hour. I’ve tried everything I can think of to stop him, but the truth is nothing has worked.”
“What about his mother? Do you think you can find her?” She hummed softly and rocked gently back and forth, hoping the soothing actions would penetrate the boy’s distress.
“Her cell is off. I left a message but if she didn’t answer her friend’s calls, she doesn’t want to be found. Probably off with some sugar daddy. I also tagged his grandmother. Donna is the one who usually watches him. I’m sure I’ll hear from her in the morning.”
“Does this happen often?” How could a mother leave her kid with someone and not come home?
“A few times.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
An icy blue glare, sharp as his skate blades, cut her short.
“Right.” She held out a hand. “Let me see your phone.”
“Why?” He reached into his back pocket for his cell.
“I’m going to get the babysitter’s name.” She exchanged Troy for the phone and walked into the living room to make the call. She quickly accessed his call records and hit the call-back key.
A few minutes later she returned to the kitchen where Max leaned against the refrigerator and Troy sat in the middle of the island. Definitely not a happy duo.
“You owe Candi Evans a hundred dollars.” She handed him his phone. “I’ll email you her address.”
“Was that necessary?”
“Yes. She wouldn’t give me her name until I told her you wanted to express your appreciation for her bringing Troy to you. A hundred should do it.”
“And we needed her data why?”
“You never know. But now we have it if we need it.”
“For a hundred bucks.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Listen, can you watch him for a few minutes?”
“You’re kidding me.” The man had nerve. “I have to be up in two hours. You’ll probably roll out of bed around three this afternoon.”
“Come on,” he cajoled her. “Just long enough for me to take a shower. I want to wash the stink of the jail off.”
She sighed, unable to begrudge him a shower. “Okay. You have ten minutes, then I’m out of here.”
He grinned, flashing his famous dimple, and chucked her under the chin. “You’re a peach, Ellie.”
She swatted his hand away with a glower, her bad mood made worse at her automatic response to that sexy dimple. Something about that indentation made her knees weak. “Don’t call me Ellie.”
But she was talking to his back as he loped for the stairs. Mmm. He was grace in motion.
Annoyed she’d noticed, she turned her attention to the two-year-old. “Sorry to tell you this, kid, but your dad is a jerk.”
“Jerk,” Troy echoed, making Elle cringe. Exactly what she needed, for Max, The Beast, to complain to her boss that she was teaching his kid to call him a jerk. Even if he was one.
Thinking of her boss, she moved to the living room and set Troy down next to her on the gray leather couch. A formal room done in classic shades of black, gray and silver, its shining central jewel was the large, mirror-polished black grand piano. For show, no doubt.
“Nice, but I just can’t visualize The Beast playing ‘Chopsticks.’” Not many sports stars were into classical music. Not in her experience. Which was one reason why she didn’t date sports enthusiasts, especially sports stars. To get where they were meant devoting their lives to the sport. She wanted more from life than the next win.
Digging out her phone, she texted Ray Dumond about the events of the night.
Troy slid off the couch and began flipping through a magazine on the table-size ottoman. He crumpled pages and ripped a few here and there, but it kept him occupied and he wasn’t screaming so she let him play. He looked up and grinned and she just wanted to pick him up and hug him.
Oh, no. She hardened her heart against the sweetness of his smile. No getting attached to the little beastie. Her time in his life was definitely temporary.
But she did feel for the little guy. She took such joy from her young niece and nephews that it hurt her to think of any child suffering. And neither of Troy’s parents were exactly winners in her eyes.
Her phone rang. Her boss. That was quick. She hadn’t expected to hear from him for a couple of hours. She answered and filled in the details he asked for. They worked out a strategy for the morning, then disconnected.
She yawned and blinked, really wishing she had time to get in at least an hour’s sleep before hitting the office at a run. A glance at her watch showed it had been twenty minutes since Max had trotted off to the shower. That was it. She’d done all she had time for tonight.
“Come on, kid.” She swooped up Troy and headed for the stairs. “I hope Daddy’s decent because ready or not, here you come.”
On the upper landing she listened for the shower but heard nothing. Turning left she walked down the hall, looking in doors until she found the master suite. And found Max sprawled facedown on a king-size bed.
Just wonderful. Thankfully he’d pulled on a pair of knit boxers, which saved her modesty if not his. The soft fabric clinging to his taut backside did little to disguise his assets.
Her gaze rolled over his long, muscular frame as she carried Troy to the bed. For all his sins, the man had one fine body. The problem was he knew it, and used it. Luckily, she was immune.
She’d never been attracted to Neanderthals.
Okay, that was a lie. Sometimes she just wanted to shimmy up that hard body and sink her teeth into his lower lip.
And then he’d open his mouth and save her from herself. Thank goodness.
Plus she’d learned her lesson where he was concerned.
It killed her that she found him so attractive. Especially as she’d vowed to find a man with more going on in his life than a love of sports.
She knew people thought her a tad unyielding when it came to her stance on men and sports. They didn’t understand. Not even her own family understood. She’d had a good childhood, had been, and still was, well loved. But she’d been a girlie girl in a household of athletes.
From the stroller on, she’d been dragged from one brother’s sporting event to another, often going to two games in the same day. Sure she enjoyed a good game, but she also wanted to learn how to cook, to paint, to play the drums and go to dance class. She liked to shop and get her nails done. She longed for conversation that didn’t include a play-by-play of game highlights.
She’d spent too many years sacrificing her desires to the demand of the majority to easily surrender her future to the overwhelming call of the game.
So, no jocks for her. She wanted, she deserved, a man with varied interests, a man who enjoyed the symphony or the opera, who liked to read and go to the theater, who liked to hike and wasn’t afraid of the mall.
Finding one was the problem.
Pulling her gaze from the father, she turned back the covers and tucked the son into the bed as best she could, considering Max was on the outside of the brown comforter.
Troy looked at her with big blue eyes. “Donna?”
Her heart broke a little for the tiny fellow. She smoothed the sheet over his chest.
“Donna and Mama went bye-bye. You’re going night-night with Daddy.”
“Don’t wan’ Daddy. Wan’ Donna.”
Elle didn’t blame him. Was there anyone less qualified to raise a child than Max Beasley?
Knowing nothing of the kind, she said, “I’m sure they’ll be back soon. If you go to sleep, Mama might even be here when you wake up.”
“Night-night?”
“Yes, close your eyes and everything will be better tomorrow.” At least she hoped so. The kid deserved better from both his parents.
He nodded and closed his eyes.
Elle bit her lip. Poor little guy. Because she couldn’t help herself, she kissed him lightly on the forehead before rising to her feet. She only moved two steps before he popped up.
“You stay,” Troy demanded.
“No.” She shook her head. “Daddy’s here. I have to go home now.”
“Daddy seeping.” His eyes watered and distress tightened his features. “You stay!”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” she tried to soothe him, “Daddy’s here with you. I have to go to work.”
“No. You stay.” He threw himself back on the bed and started screaming.
“Fudge sticks.” Elle hurried back to the bed. “Troy, stop that now. Daddy’s sleeping.”
The boy turned his back to her and continued to screech at the top of his lungs. Goodness. She’d heard fire trucks less shrill. Elle waited for Max to wake up, but he slept on, obviously out for the count. Unbelievable.
The kid was turning red. She panicked a little; she couldn’t just let him scream himself to sleep.
“Troy, enough. Come here.” She lifted him into her arms and rocked him gently. He weighed next to nothing but he was strong. At first he fought her, but after a few minutes he relaxed against her shoulder.
When she thought he was sleeping, she tried to put him back in the bed. He woke and frantically shook his head, clinging to her. Resigned to staying until he slept peacefully, she carried him down the hall and found his nursery. As soon as she stepped inside, he began to scream.
She immediately backed out of the room and the screaming stopped.
“Okay, that’s really getting old,” she told the boy, her nerves frazzled around the edges. “I’m doing my best here. So no more screaming.”
He patted her cheek, and she knew she was being played by a two-year-old. And then he wrapped his little arms around her neck and whispered, “I miss Donna.”
His grandmother, not his mother. Any subconscious sympathy for Amber disappeared. Her neglect of her child went way beyond these missing hours and bordered on the criminal.
The faces of her young niece and nephews rolled across her mind’s eye. She was such a softy when it came to kids she couldn’t just stand by and let Troy suffer.
Okay, all right; Elle stopped fighting her aggravation with the situation and decided to do everything she could to help Troy. If that meant working with Max, she’d do it. But from what she could see, putting Troy in Max’s care only moved him from one mostly absent parent to another mostly absent parent.
Troy deserved a happy home with people committed to his emotional and physical welfare.
Which meant Elle had some hard questions for Max. If he couldn’t give Troy what he needed, maybe they’d have to redirect their efforts.
Determined to get the kid settled, she made her way to a guest room and lay down with him.
He immediately slipped from the bed and pulled on her hand. “Daddy.”
Now he wanted Daddy? Feeling a bit like a yo-yo she allowed him to drag her back to the master suite, where she eyed Max with evil intent. Wake up and take care of your kid already.
Digging deep for patience and channeling her new resolve, she tucked Troy back into bed beside his father and sat on the edge of the mattress, prepared to wait until the boy fell asleep.
He smiled at her and pushed the blanket aside. “Night-night.”
He wanted her to lie down? With him and The Beast? So not a good idea. But she was exhausted and a glance at the clock on the nightstand told her this was her only chance of getting any more rest before work. She set her cell alarm for forty minutes and stretched out on the very edge of the bed.
Troy scooted close and within minutes his little body went lax in sleep. Elle considered leaving, but couldn’t get her eyes to open. The corner of her mouth twitched. The kid had gotten her into bed on their first meeting.
And she was in bed with The Beast. Nobody could ever know. Least of all Max.
It was her last thought before she drifted away.
* * *
A kick to the gut woke Max. Instantly alert, he powered up onto his arms and flipped over, ready to fight. A hard lesson learned from his time on the streets.
But it was only Troy turned sideways in the bed and reaching for more territory. That didn’t surprise him as the memory of last night flooded in.
Now, seeing the ever-efficient Ms. Austin also sharing his bed, that caused a brow to rise. And other body parts, too.
Long and lush with a waterfall of vibrant red hair, the woman made him want. Too bad she had the personality of a piranha.
Had he imagined her in his bed? Hell yeah. Had almost gotten her there last year at the Gala before he came to his senses. He’d love getting tangled up in those long, pretty legs, but getting entangled in a relationship? That was a no-go. And she had picket fence written all over her.
The idea of a street rat like him with Daddy’s little princess was ludicrous. The sex might be great but he had nothing more to offer her. Money and fame didn’t keep a couple together; he’d seen that often enough in the league. Seriously, what would they talk about?
What the hell? Since when did he worry about conversation with a woman? Never.
Which only served to show he was in a weird place.
He sat up on the side of the bed, scrubbed both hands over his face. And then he looked at Troy. His son.
Max had been on his own forever. The truth was hockey fit him to a T because he didn’t play well with others. What he contemplated was insane. No, it was beyond insane.
He was leery of letting a woman into his life. At least he’d know what to do with Elle if he gave in to that insanity. But taking on Troy? He’d barely survived bottles and changing diapers.
But he’d made up his mind. He was going to bring Troy to live with him.
