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“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.”
CHAPTER FIVE
DARIUS AND WHITNEY raced behind Joni, who led them up the back steps. When they reached the nursery, Darius pushed ahead, not caring about decorum, and ran into the room.
Gino lay in the crib, crying. Darius reached down and scooped the little boy into his arms. “Hey, little guy. What’s up?”
“I’ve already called the pediatrician,” Mrs. Tucker said, wringing her hands. “He said he’d be here as soon as he can.”
Gino snuggled against Darius and cried harder.
“I couldn’t get him to drink his evening bottle and now he won’t stop crying.” Mrs. Tucker’s voice was strained and anxious. “I’m not a nanny and my only child is over thirty. It’s been so long since I cared for a baby that I have no idea what’s wrong.”
Whitney peered at Gino over Darius’s shoulder. “Can I hold him?”
Darius caught her gaze and the instant he did, he regretted it. Thoughts of their kiss devoured his mind and desire arched between them. He couldn’t believe he’d broken the promise he’d made to himself not to kiss her, but he had. Part of him wasn’t sorry. They had chemistry that just wouldn’t quit and if they were in a position to pursue it they’d probably set his bedroom on fire. He couldn’t resist a taste.
But they weren’t in a position to pursue it, and there would be consequences. Especially for this little boy if he didn’t handle the situation correctly.
He swallowed and handed Gino to her. “Here.”
After laying the baby across her arm, she studied his face, pressed her hand to his forehead, looked into his mouth. “I think he’s getting a tooth.”
Furious that she could be so flippant, Darius pinned her with a hard stare. “I think we should let the pediatrician decide.”
“Oh, of course!” she said, handing the baby back to him. “I’m just saying that there’s no reason for us to panic while we wait for the doctor to arrive.”
Mrs. Tucker visibly relaxed. “I should have thought of that. But it’s just been so long since I’ve had kids.” She sank into the rocker. “If I may make a suggestion, sir, I think we should get a nanny here as soon as possible.” She sighed heavily, as if having trouble getting her breathing to regulate, and Darius realized just how worried poor Mrs. Tucker had been.
But his eyes narrowed in on Whitney, the woman he shared custody with, and he suddenly wondered how she knew so much about babies. She’d said she’d been married, but she hadn’t mentioned children. If she’d had them and her husband had gotten custody, there had to be a reason for that. If there was something god-awful in her past that made her husband a better candidate to have her children than she was, he wanted to know what it was.
“I’ll just go back to the kitchen, then,” Mrs. Tucker announced, rising from the rocker and heading for the door.
“Sure,” Darius said. “We’ll be fine.” Plus, he wanted some time alone with Whitney. Since the day they’d met at her dad’s office, he’d been so preoccupied with getting along with her that he’d let all the inconsistencies in her life slide. That ended here. That ended now.
Darius sat on the rocker. Gino snuggled against him, sniffling, but relaxing against his sweater as if seeking comfort. His heart warmed with emotion. He was falling in love with this kid. In only two days, the little boy was getting to him.
But that was all the more reason to make sure he knew Gino’s “other” guardian. His dad might have approved Whitney, but his dad hadn’t planned on dying. He might have simply decided to placate Missy and agreed to appoint Whitney as shared custodian. Given that she was the daughter of his friend and the friend of Gino’s mom, he might not have checked into her past the way he should have.
“So, are you going to tell me how you know so much about babies?”
She walked away from him toward the window, but didn’t answer his question.
“I can have you investigated, you know. Or maybe even guess. A woman who was married but lost custody of her children to her husband probably has a skeleton in her closet.”
She sucked in a breath, refusing to look at him. Darius squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it! If he hadn’t needed her help so much, he would have realized something was off with her before this. He wouldn’t have silenced his instincts, and he would have confronted her.
“You know what? Don’t tell me. Go back to your room and pack. Because I’m going to contest that damned will. I’m getting you away from my baby.”
“Don’t.” She turned, her eyes filled with tortured pain. He could easily guess why.
“Why not? Don’t want a courtroom full of people to hear why you shouldn’t be around a child? Why you don’t have your own?”
She swallowed. “It’s not what you think.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Whitney’s limbs began to shiver, then her entire body began to shake. She had absolutely no doubt in her mind that he intended to check in to her past. When he did, he’d discover she’d had a child who had died. She’d wanted to tell him, but she’d wanted it to be on her terms, so she didn’t look incompetent or grief-stricken. But it appeared this was the time.
She opened her mouth, debating what she would say, how she would say it, but the only thing that came out was, “I had a daughter.”
Darius said nothing, only snuggled his baby brother closer as if protecting him from her, and her heart shattered. “I would never do anything to hurt Gino.”
“Really?”
“My husband hurt my daughter.” Her shaking intensified. Tears filled her eyes. “My husband killed my daughter.”
Darius stopped rocking.
“He intended to kill himself.” Her tears spilled over her lower lids, trailed down her cheeks. Memories of that day and all the days after it when she’d wondered, berated herself, lived in an ocean of guilt, filled her brain, stopped her tongue, clogged her throat with tears.
She swallowed hard. Once. Twice. Three times before she could speak.
“No one knows if he’d forgotten he had the baby in the car seat when he realized he could simply sit in the running car in the garage to eventually kill himself.” Her lungs expanded to painful proportions. Sobs screamed to erupt from her chest, but she held on.
“His company had failed and though money wasn’t an issue, his pride suffered.” She turned, faced Darius, opened her hands in supplication. “It was his third company. He’d bragged that number three would be the charm. But it wasn’t. His father was angry with him for wasting his time. His brothers were making names for themselves on Wall Street and Burn did nothing but fail.” A sob escaped. “He was the family embarrassment.”
Darius swallowed, visibly shaken by what she had told him. “I’m sorry.”
Her sob turned to muffled weeping. “Everyone’s sorry.”
He rose from the rocker. “Maybe no one knows what else to say?”
She turned away as her crying took her. There was a place she went, a soft, comfortable place, where emotion took control of her body. Problems weren’t solved. Trouble didn’t disappear, but tension eased. Tears and sobs provided a welcome release not just for the pain, but also for her tight muscles and limbs. And she wanted to go there now. She wanted to go to her own room, sink onto the bed and let the crying soothe her.
“You weren’t at fault, you know.”
She spun to face him as sadness morphed into anger. “Really? I couldn’t have noticed my slightly depressed husband tumbling into full-fledged mental illness? There were no signs? You’re sure?”
“No, but—”
“You wouldn’t accept my diagnosis of Gino. You insisted on waiting for the pediatrician. So now I’m telling you to stop diagnosing me. Back off.”
The door opened and Mrs. Tucker entered with a short, gray-haired man behind her. “Dr. Sullivan,” she announced as she stepped aside and let the man shuffle over to Gino.
“Hey, Gino,” he crooned, taking the baby from Darius’s arms. Obviously familiar with the little boy, he hugged him before he said, “I hear somebody might be getting a tooth.”
He laid the little boy on the changing table and began to examine him.
Silently, Whitney slipped behind the group huddled around the baby and out the door.
Darius watched her go, cursing himself for pushing her and cursing her husband.
She’d had a daughter. A little girl. A baby who was probably the light of her life. He squeezed his eyes shut in misery. He’d brought all that back for her, made her relive the worst days of her life.
The doctor examined Gino and told Darius and Mrs. Tucker there was very little that could be done for a baby getting a tooth. He gave them some gel to numb his gums and advised them to get a teething ring.
Luckily, Gino fell asleep almost immediately after the doctor left, but Darius stayed by his crib, angry with himself for forcing Whitney to talk, but more concerned about the baby.
Finally, around midnight, he went to bed. But what seemed like only two minutes later, Darius heard the sounds of the baby waking and he popped up in bed. Glancing at his clock, he saw it was only just after two and groaned.
Still, not wanting Mrs. Tucker to have to deal with a cranky baby alone, he jumped into jeans and a sweatshirt and raced into the nursery. As he entered through the side door, Whitney bolted into the room from the main door, wearing a fluffy pink robe over white pajamas.
Their eyes met across the nursery and everything inside him stilled. He’d forced her to relive the worst days of her life the night before, but at least with that out in the open she had to know he didn’t doubt her anymore. He wouldn’t be making good on his threat to contest guardianship.
Gino screamed again, reminding him that if he didn’t pick him up and tend to him, he’d wake Mrs. Tucker. Beating Whitney to the crib, he lifted the little boy out and hugged him, patting his back to soothe him.
Whitney stood a few steps back. Concern brought her close enough to see what was going on, but not so close that she was actually part of it.
Things would have probably been a bit stilted and awkward between them as they worked through the aftermath of that conversation and her memories, but ultimately they would have been okay—if he hadn’t also kissed her.
He couldn’t believe he’d done that, but the temptation had been so strong he couldn’t resist. He’d thought that one kiss might take the edge off. Instead, the taste of her stayed on his lips all night.
Turning away, she said, “I’ll warm a bottle.”
She took a bottle from the small refrigerator, set it in the warmer and waited, all with her back to him.
Guilt suffused him. He should have been kinder with her, gentler.
Whitney walked over with the warm bottle, motioning for Darius to sit in the rocker. “Once he drinks this, we’ll put the gel on his gums again so he can fall back to sleep.”
Panic rose in him. He might have fed Gino before, but he really didn’t trust himself to feed the baby when his mouth was sore.
Obviously seeing his hesitancy, Whitney said, “Arrange Gino across your lap, but lift his head a little higher than you normally do.”
In three or four movements, Darius had the little boy across his lap and halfway between sitting and lying on his arm.
“Now, put the nipple to his lips and he’ll do the rest. His hunger will supersede the pain in his mouth.”
Darius did as instructed and Gino latched onto the nipple as if he was starving.
Whitney stepped away. “I understand how his being sick would make you nervous.”
Of course she did. She’d had a daughter. He’d brought up those memories for her. In the silence of the nursery where he’d confronted her, the most natural thing to do right now would be to apologize for pushing her to tell him about her daughter.
So he did. “I’m sorry.”
She ambled to the side window. Though it was the middle of the night and she probably couldn’t see anything, she stared out into the darkness. “For not knowing how to care for Gino?”
“For pushing you into talking before the pediatrician got here.”
Her eyes never left the window. “You had no idea. You were worried about Gino. I accept that.”
Just as he’d suspected, his mistake was something she’d probably faced before. She wouldn’t hold a grudge or make something out of it he hadn’t intended. Things might still be awkward for awhile, but ultimately they’d be okay.
