Booties And The Beast

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“Not your fault, cute stuff,” Sam said, hearing his voice sound husky with emotion. “You’re just the sort of kid I always hoped I’d have.”

Sam had Joel’s full attention. The baby hung onto Sam’s shirt and gave every sign of listening intently. “Yep, I wanted one just like you and one just like…” Sam caught himself about to say “your mother” and substituted, “…well, a little girl.”

At the word “girl,” Joel made muttering noises. Sam felt a smile start. “Don’t like girls, huh? You’ll change your tune one day, when you meet that special lady you can’t live without. I thought I’d found her in my ex-wife, Christine,” he explained to the baby. Joel’s head bobbed as if he understood every word, although Sam knew he couldn’t possibly. “Not that we’re the best example. She was a cover model I met at my publishers’ Christmas party. ‘Course it doesn’t have to turn out the way it did for us,” Sam went on, wondering if he’d gone completely crazy. Why was he telling this to a baby, for goodness sake? But Joel made a good listener, and Sam’s monologue was keeping the baby calm, so he decided it didn’t matter what he said, as long as he used a soothing tone.

“She said she didn’t mind that I couldn’t father children,” he went on in a monotone. “Even had her big shot doctor brother do the tests so we could keep the news in the family. Never did like me, her brother. Thought a writer wasn’t good enough for his sister. Medically speaking, he was right.”

Joel smacked him in the chest. “Bab-bab.”

“Yeah, pretty bad,” Sam agreed. “But then I can’t stand my ex’s brother either, so we’re even. But you don’t want to hear this. Heck, I don’t want to hear this.”

“Hear what?” Haley asked, bounding up the steps. Under her arm she carried a woolly lamb toy. Joel’s eyes lit up at the sight of his plaything and he reached out.

As she took the baby from him, Sam felt a twinge of remorse. “Men’s business,” he said gruffly, annoyed with himself for letting the baby get to him.

He hadn’t been prepared for the way Haley made him feel, either. Watching her settle the child on one hip, Sam felt flames leap inside him.

His sister, Jessie, claimed that the only good thing about being pregnant was the way her breasts filled out. Despite her recent motherhood, Haley’s breasts were still small, but they were in scale with the rest of her trim figure, Sam decided. She wore a wraparound skirt of Oriental-looking material in black and gold, with a black T-shirt that clung to her curves as if poured on. In her arms, the baby fisted a handful of the T-shirt and held on. Sam almost groaned aloud.

Joining them on the steps, Dougal barked and the baby’s eyes widened. Haley bent down, allowing the dog to sniff the infant. “Friend, Dougal,” she said firmly. The dog’s tail bannered and he gave the baby’s hand a gentle lick. Joel gurgled with delight, a smile breaking out on his chubby face. He caught a handful of the dog’s fur and pulled, but Dougal seemed to sense that he wasn’t to respond and stood like a statue. Carefully, Haley untangled the baby’s hand and straightened. Dougal glued himself to her side as if he had every intention of staying there for the next two weeks.

“Much more of that and he won’t want to know me,” Sam said, telling himself he wasn’t bothered by the dog’s apparent defection. Sure, he wasn’t. Any more than he was bothered by the Madonna-and-child image in front of him. Or the empty way his arms felt when Haley took the baby from him.

She looked up and smiled, and the sun came out. “Dogs have plenty of affection to go around. I’m just glad that Joel isn’t scared of him.”

Sam had promised himself he wouldn’t get involved with either Haley or her child, but would settle them in their quarters, brief her on what she was to do while he was away, then get the dickens out of here. Suddenly he felt a powerful urge to stick around. “Joel doesn’t look as if he’s scared of anything,” he said.

“Thunderstorms,” she admitted, jiggling the baby on her hip. “You don’t like bad old storms, do you, pumpkin?”

“He’s scared of storms?”

She nodded. A thunderstorm had been raging the night Ellen passed away and Haley couldn’t help wondering if the baby associated storms with the loss of his mother. She told herself he was far too young and, anyway, most babies disliked loud noises, but she found the connection curious.

Sam used the heavy case to wedge the front door open so she could carry the baby inside. As she passed him in the narrow opening, her hip brushed his. It was the slightest contact, nothing really, but awareness of him vibrated through her, leaving her breathless. This would have to stop. He was The Beast, remember? The baby in her arms ought to remind her, if she needed it.

Sam followed her inside and put her possessions down on the polished parquet floor while he closed the door. “Joel isn’t the only one. I was scared of thunderstorms when I was a boy.”

She knew her expression betrayed her surprise. He looked too overwhelmingly masculine and sure of himself to be scared of anything. “You were?”

He nodded. “When I was four, lightning struck a tree outside my bedroom window, severing a branch that crashed into my room, missing my bed by inches. I hated storms for years afterwards.”

The image of a terrified little boy lying in his bed while a storm raged around him filled her mind. Much as she hated to feel compassion for him, it was impossible not to. “Anyone would feel the same after that.”

“I outgrew it. Joel probably will, too.”

Suddenly she became aware of how close they were standing, almost within kissing distance, she thought, astonishing herself. How would it feel to have his generously proportioned mouth covering hers? Feathers of sensation whispered along her spine and she closed her eyes, the feel of his lips so palpable that her own parted in response.

She opened her eyes in amazement. What was going on here? She was suddenly glad that the baby in her arms provided a tangible barrier between them. Sam was the last man in the world she should fantasize about kissing.

She became aware that he was speaking to her. “I’ve put you in my room.”

“You’ve what?”

“Your room while I’m away,” he said, heading off her objection. “It has a separate dressing room large enough to make a nursery for Joel.”

“Oh, thanks.” How much more foolish could one woman feel? For a minute she’d thought…She drove the idea away by reminding herself that she was here to do a job. Perhaps not the one that Sam had hired her to do, but a job nonetheless.

If Sam suspected her real agenda, he wouldn’t offer her any hospitality, far less the use of his own room for herself and Joel, she knew. Reminding herself that Sam had left her no alternative if she was to obtain justice for Joel didn’t entirely appease her conscience. The sight of the baby’s angelic features helped Haley to harden her heart. Sam had not only rejected his son, but in profiting from Ellen’s idea for the Cosmic Panda character, Sam had robbed Joel of his birthright as well. All Haley needed was proof, and she meant to find it while Sam was away.

Her sister had told Haley the bare bones of the story. As a book illustrator, Ellen had met Sam at a publishing dinner three years before, and she had ended up sketching ideas on the back of a menu. According to Ellen, that was when Cosmic Panda was born.

Haley didn’t know what would have happened if Ellen hadn’t become ill six months after giving Sam the idea for the character. Ellen hadn’t wanted anyone to know how ill she was, and Sam had promised to let her work with him on future Panda books as soon as she recovered. Being Ellen, she had put the work before her own welfare, and had urged Sam to hire another artist in the meantime. The first book had been published to great acclaim. The only name on it was Sam’s.

He had kept his word about hiring Ellen to illustrate the second Panda book when she let him know she was working again. But Haley had read all the publicity, looking in vain for him to give her sister any of the credit. Although plainly disappointed, Ellen had insisted she didn’t want a fuss made. While Ellen lived, Haley had felt bound to abide by her sister’s wishes. Now she was free of that obligation.

As soon as she had evidence that the character had been Ellen’s creation, Haley intended to confront Sam with what she knew. The price Haley wanted for keeping the news to herself was Sam’s acknowledgment of Joel as his son. A fair exchange, really. If Haley had to wrestle her conscience over how she brought it about, so be it.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Sam opened a door off the wide corridor and gestured for her to enter. It was the bedroom she had glimpsed the day she came for the interview, but it looked far neater today. The massive four-poster was made and every surface gleamed.

There was a walk-in closet with several railings cleared so she could hang her own clothes. Another door led to a smaller, light-filled room set up as the nursery, she saw when she went inside. She ran a hand over the glowing timber of the rocking chair. At her touch it moved slightly. Then she caught sight of the hand-carved crib and gave an involuntary gasp of pleasure. “It’s beautiful. I brought Joel’s portable crib but this is much nicer. I’ve never seen one like it. Is it very old?”

“Family heirloom,” he said. “I dug it out of the attic for you.” He didn’t add that his sister had supplied the sheets and blankets and a few other baby things she had to spare, although not without a considerable amount of teasing. She had been convinced that he fancied the baby’s mother.

The trouble was, he did. He had never been so diverted by a woman before. Yet for some reason, she didn’t like him. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. Occasionally she smiled at him in a way that turned his insides to jelly, then she seemed to remind herself that she wasn’t supposed to like him, and the sun would go in. It was a mystery, and he didn’t like mysteries.

The baby was another mystery, reminding him of someone he couldn’t quite place. Telling himself that all babies looked alike didn’t help.

Haley shot him a concerned glance. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”

“I could hardly let Joel sleep in the bottom drawer of a chest.”

But he could deny fathering the baby, the thought tempering her pleasure at the preparations he had made. She placed the baby into the crib while she got herself organized. “It’s time for Joel’s nap,” she said. “I’ll have to change him first and I warn you, it’s not a pretty sight.”

She was doing it again, he saw, freezing him out for no good reason he could fathom. He also resented her assumption that he couldn’t handle a baby’s basic needs. Hadn’t he rustled up the crib and other necessities?

“For your information, I’ve had some practice taking care of my sister’s two babies so I’m not likely to be offended by anything that comes out of either end. But since I’m obviously in your way, I’ll leave you to it. When you’re finished, join me in the library and we’ll go over what I want you to do. It’s the last room at the end of the hall.”

“I remember where it is. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time. As you reminded me, I have a couple of hours up my sleeve. You might like to settle in first.”

“Thank you, I would.”

Her tone would have frosted a martini glass, he thought. At the door, he turned back. “What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

Her eyes betrayed her shock as she looked up from digging through a bag of baby things. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“At the interview, you admitted being mad at Joel’s father, and his absence suggests you have a right to be, but is that any reason to take it out on me? Or do you just dislike men in general?”

She unrolled a thick pad on top of a chest and lifted the baby onto it before saying, “I don’t dislike men.”

“Then it must be me.”

In the act of undressing Joel, she paused. “What makes you think I don’t like you?”

“Your attitude hardly makes you a charter member of the Sam Winton Fan Club.”

“I didn’t realize it was a qualification for your house sitter.”

“You’re dodging the question.”

Her hands stilled again as she gave him a look of exasperation. “I don’t know the answer. I hardly know you. ”

“It wouldn’t be hard to remedy.”

He assumed she wanted a remedy, Haley told herself. She didn’t, did she? She only wanted justice for Joel. Thinking of her reaction to the idea of kissing Sam, she knew she would have to be careful not to lose sight of her goal. “I’ll bear it in mind,” she said.

He looked as if he wanted to say more, then seemed to think better of it, closing the door behind him with such exaggerated care that she was sure it was only to stop himself from slamming it.

What was the matter with him, she asked herself as she removed the baby’s clothes, then dabbed and wiped and powdered, so accustomed to the task that she hardly thought about the steps any more. Usually she used the time to play with Joel, but she was too distracted to do more than make reassuring noises. He didn’t seem to mind. He was too fascinated by a mobile of brightly colored circus clowns and animals hanging from the ceiling. Where had Sam found that? It didn’t look like an heirloom from his attic.

He had mentioned that his sister had children. She could have contributed the mobile and some of the other baby items, Haley concluded. It was a lot to do for someone who was only staying for a couple of weeks.

She thought about his question. Did she hate Sam? She had told herself she did, for the way he had treated Ellen. But he was making it surprisingly hard to do. “Why did he have to fix everything up so nicely for us?” she asked Joel.

The baby kicked and cooed, and she sighed. “You don’t know the answer any more than I do, pumpkin.” She glanced at the closed door. “Why can’t your daddy act like the beast he is, then it would be easy to dislike him?”

“Da-da-da,” the baby gurgled.

She looked at him suspiciously. “Are you trying to say daddy? It’s too soon, isn’t it?”

“Da-da-da,” he repeated.

She felt a sudden flash of jealousy and gathered the now sweet-smelling infant into her arms. “Can you say mama?”

The baby blew a bubble at her and thrust his fingers into her mouth. “Ba.”

“Mama,” she repeated patiently around his fingers.

“Ba. Ba.”

“Ma-ma,” she tried again, then realized that her friend had dozed off in midword. It was probably just as well. It had been a busy morning for Joel, and she was sure the tension between herself and Sam wasn’t helping. Joel didn’t stir when she placed him in the crib and tucked a soft blanket around him. She retrieved his woolly lamb toy from the table, and placed it at the foot of the crib where he would see it if he awoke.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered, kissing the tip of her finger and touching his forehead. She never tired of watching the baby sleep, but she didn’t want to keep Sam waiting. Despite his invitation to take her time, she decided to leave the unpacking until she had the house to herself.

Sam wasn’t in the library when she got there, but the door to his office stood open and she heard furious muttering coming from it. Curious, she walked in. Sam was frowning over his computer. His hair was disheveled where he’d evidently thrust his fingers through it. He looked every inch a writer and he looked gorgeous.

“Problem?” she asked.

He looked up, as if her arrival had startled him. “New scriptwriting program. Darned thing won’t load properly. Cosmic Panda has been optioned as a TV series and I need the program to write the script,” he explained. “That’s privileged information, by the way. My agent plans to announce it publicly after the tour.”

Hearing that the character he had purloined from Ellen was about to become even more profitable helped her to harden her heart against the urge to go to him and smooth away the lines of worry creasing his brow.

Remembering why he had hired her, she asked, “Do you need the program before you go?” When he shook his head, she said, “Then leave it and I’ll load it for you.”

“I knew you were the person I needed.”

His words and electric smile of gratitude undermined her resolve, and her pulse double-timed as his dark gaze rested on her. “What?”

“You have baby powder on your nose.”

She scrubbed at it with the back of her hand then winced. “Some of it went into my eye.”

He uncoiled from the desk and stood up. “Here, let me help.”

With the grace and purpose of a mountain lion, he stalked to her side and put an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer to the window, into the light. Tilting her head back, he studied her eye for a moment, then released the lid. “Your eye looks clear now. You’ve probably scratched it and that’s why it feels as if something’s still there. If you bathe it, the pain will go away.”

“It’s gone now.” The words came out as a strangled whisper, so aware was she of his touch. She tried to shake herself free of his spell and move away, but her legs felt frozen. Only her mind was vibrantly active, processing how much she liked the feel of his arm around her and the brush of his fingers against her face.

So when he bent his head and kissed her, it felt completely natural and right. Her mouth trembled under his, but she couldn’t summon the will to stop him. Sighing softly, she closed her eyes, seeing stars behind her closed lids as he sipped and nuzzled, touched and tasted.

For such a powerful man, he was gentle, never once taking undue advantage of her startled acquiescence. At the slightest objection from her, he would have released her, she sensed. So say something, stop this, her logical brain urged. She kept silent.

Yet inside her ran a riot of responses that made her blood leap and her heart gather speed. His fingers slid along her jaw, gently caressing, until he reached the pulse at her throat. She felt him register it and wished she could stop the betraying hammering. But she could no more control it than she could tear her mouth away from his. If anything, she wanted more, hungered for it, and the shameful whimper of pleasure she couldn’t restrain told him so.