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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.
