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The Baby Consultant
Anne Marie Winston


CRASH COURSE IN BABY CARE 101When Jack Ferris became a father by default, he had an armful of infant and less than half a clue. The high-powered executive desperately needed a "baby consultant," and alluring Frannie Brooks fit the bill. She had a special touch with the child - and with him. Frannie had once loved a man who only wanted her mommy skills - and vowed never again.But Jack made her feel like a sensual, desirable woman for the first time. Yet how could she be sure he truly wanted her…and not just her maternal instincts? Butler County Brides: Three small-town friends bring three of the sexiest, most powerful men to their knees!







She Was Made For Motherhood. (#u9f83f599-4e76-5599-8a87-320e1291b107)Letter to Reader (#ud17c37ff-7c22-5513-93f4-da086e6a5fed)Title Page (#uedbc7fea-b28b-5377-abbe-f25e959c52a8)ANNE MARIE WINSTON (#u3d5e3a95-dbe7-53f9-8c55-49e78d304b8b)Dedication (#u2ccc3f5d-8496-5b10-9984-bbb5c7ef95cf)Chapter One (#uc4d1ae10-9666-5dbf-8014-e85f8fd2506f)Chapter Two (#u091464d0-26d0-5c0b-a0f8-c3954122ad3e)Chapter Three (#u27220782-c531-5ee2-93b6-da0c96996d7d)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Teaser chapter (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


She Was Made For Motherhood.

The thought didn’t surprise Jack. But what did catch him off guard was the deep longing for this intimate family scene to be his. He watched as Frannie stood near her small fireplace with the baby in her arms. She was looking down into the tiny face, speaking in a quiet, earnest tone.

She loved babies—that was certain—and she seemed to love his baby in particular.

“I wish I could find someone who would care for her like you do while I’m at work.”

“You can’t possibly keep taking her to work with you.”

“I don’t have a choice. Unless you’ve changed your mind about keeping her?”

She hesitated. “I suppose I could keep her until a space in a reputable day-care facility becomes available.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you.” At least, not in the baby-sitting department....


Dear Reader,

Welcome to a new year with Silhouette Desire! We begin the year in celebration—it’s the 10th Anniversary of MAN OF THE MONTH! And kicking off the festivities is the incomparable Diana Palmer, with January’s irresistible hero, Simon Hart, in Beloved.

Also launching this month is Desire’s series FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE BRIDES. So many of you wrote to us that you loved Silhouette’s series FORTUNE’S CHILDREN—now here’s a whole new branch of the family! Award-winning author Jennifer Greene inaugurates this series with The Honor Bound Groom.

Popular Anne Marie Winston begins BUTLER COUNTY BRIDES, a new miniseries about three small-town friends who find true love, with The Baby Consultant. Sara Orwig offers us a marriage of convenience in The Cowboy’s Seductive Proposal. Next, experience love on a ranch in Hart’s Baby by Christy Lockhart. And opposites attract in The Scandalous Heiress by Kathryn Taylor.

So, indulge yourself in 1999 with Silhouette Desire—powerful, provocative and passionate love stories that speak to today’s multifaceted woman. Each month we offer you six compelling romances to meet your many moods, with heroines you’ll care about and heroes to die for. Silhouette Desire is everything you desire in a romance novel.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3


The Baby Consultant

Anne Marie Winston














www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ANNE MARIE WINSTON

has believed in happy endings all her life. Having the opportunity to share them with her readers gives her great joy. Anne Marie enjoys figure skating and working in the gardens of her south-central Pennsylvania home.


To Ruth Ann, my “forever friend.”

We’ve shared Barbies and babies,

Harlequins and hospital rooms,

Pregnancies and “pigs.”

Thanks for the wonderful memories.


One

He wasn’t gorgeous, as Dee had led her to believe. His nose looked as if it had been rearranged by someone even bigger than he; his eyes were an unremarkable gray. Clean shaven and well-defined, his jaw thrust forward just a shade shy of pugnacious while his light brown, almost-but-not-quite-blond hair was cut military-short along the sides, curling only at the top where it had escaped the razor’s forays.

Still, she could see the appeal. She studied him as he spoke into the phone he held to his ear while he paced back and forth at the far end of his office. His shoulders were broad enough to set a tea service on. He was taller than any of her brothers, maybe six-one, with long, long legs and a wide, straight back that tapered to a trim waist. And his butt was to die for. She almost laughed aloud. She would never have thought of that phrase before she’d moved away from home and found a life of her own.

Then he turned and smiled at her.

Frannie set down her purse and briefcase and took a seat in the chair across from Jack Ferris’s desk. Actually, she had no choice. That smile virtually took her breath away, weakened her knees, made her heart pound—every stupid cliché she’d ever heard suddenly didn’t seem so stupid.

Dee had warned her: “Women fight over him. Literally.”

Unbelievable. One little shift of expression, one flash of white teeth and a penetrating personal moment of eye contact... she’d probably fetch his slippers and pipe if he smiled at her like that again.

“He’ll be with you in a moment.” The receptionist with the disgustingly gorgeous figure and the perfect teeth smiled sweetly at Frannie before closing the door of the office. It figured. She would have bet good green bucks that this man would hire help that looked like something out of a sports magazine’s annual swimsuit issue. It would have been easy to hate her if she hadn’t been so nice.

He was still talking on the telephone, one hand splayed across his hip in what looked like exasperation. “I said I’m sorry, Mona. I have a game that day or you know I’d love to take you.” His voice oozed smooth honey, but Frannie doubted that Mona would think he was so charming if she could see the way he was practically gritting his teeth. It was obvious he didn’t want to do whatever the woman at the other end was trying to rope him into.

Deliberately trying not to eavesdrop, she pulled her briefcase onto her lap and extracted the portfolio of her work she’d brought along. Flipping it open, she forgot about Jack Ferris and his famous charm. With a critical eye, she studied the photos of some of the wedding dresses she’d made. That cream satin one had such nice pearl work and embroidered detail on the bodice—she should have taken a shot from the front as well as the back. The ruffled Chantilly lace on the chapel-length train was gorgeous, if she did say so herself. And the Victorian...not her style, but it had looked lovely on the girl for whom she’d made it, with its leg-o’-mutton sleeves. The girl had pinned her hair up loosely and forsaken a veil for a stately plumed hat Frannie had suggested, which should have looked ridiculous but didn’t. And here was that darling silk sheath with a yoke of alençon lace. She’d enjoyed making that one. But perhaps she should have brought all traditional styles along. That was what most brides wanted, she’d discovered, and if she was considering placing some of them in a brochure—oh, bother. Wasn’t that why she was here? So this highly recommended ad agency could tell her what would be best?

As she shuffled through the photos again, the telephone’s small beep told her that the consultant was off the phone.

“Miss Brooks. I apologize for the delay. I’m Jack Ferris.” He advanced across the room with three long strides, hand outstretched and that intimate smile projected full blast at her.

It was impossible not to respond. She half rose to meet his outstretched hand—and then made a futile grab for the photos, which slipped and spilled all over the floor.

“Oh, dear.” She knelt to retrieve her photos. Jack Ferris did the same, and their knees bumped. Her head was inches from his chin, and she caught a whiff of clean male scent. Frannie quickly moved away. She felt as if the air grew syrup thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe this close to him.

In a moment everything had been gathered up and Frannie couldn’t avoid looking at him, on his knees on the carpet, face-to-face with her. Time froze as she met his gaze again. She didn’t know how he did it, but he made her stomach positively quiver when he was so near.

But it wouldn’t do to let him see he affected her. She suspected he was used to women falling at his feet and she had no intention of encouraging him.

Summoning a wry smile, she extended her hand again. “Thank you, Mr. Ferris. Let’s try this again.”

“Please, call me Jack.” He took her hand, the warm strength in his surrounding her much smaller one, reminding her forcibly that she was female, soft and giving, and he was all hard, unyielding male power. He helped her to her feet, but didn’t release her hand. She couldn’t free herself without making an issue of it, so she nodded as he led her to the love seat and chairs arranged around a coffee table topped with glass in the corner next to the wide window. “Why don’t we talk over here? I’m not big on formality.”

He seated her on the love seat before taking a chair angled next to hers. “So. You need some advice on marketing your—” he consulted a note on the yellow pad in front of him “—your sewing business.”

“My bridal gown design business,” she corrected. “What I do is create handmade wedding gowns and help the brides select accessories to complement the dress. I also design dresses for other occasions, and once in a while I’m asked to restore someone’s grandmother’s gown that has been packed away in an attic for fifty years.”

“Sorry.” Jack Ferris looked amused. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I have the greatest respect for someone who wields a needle. I’m stitch impaired—can’t even sew on a button.”

She had to laugh at the description. “A lot of people tell me similar things. It’s really not hard to learn the basics.”

He smiled slowly. “My hands are too big. And I may have great reflexes, but my fine-motor skills are lousy. Anyway—” his eyes bored into her with that single-minded intensity again “—how can I help you?”

“I’m not sure.” When his eyebrows rose, she went on. “I only opened the shop last year. It’s gone well, even better than I expected in Westminster, and I’m considering a little modest advertising to introduce me to the Baltimore area on a larger scale. So far my advertising has been mostly word-of-mouth.”

“How did you get it off the ground when you opened?” He leaned forward, genuinely curious, and she remembered that marketing was what he did for a living.

“Well, I have this friend who’s...very good at getting her own way.” She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “Once she decided to introduce me to a few people, I was busy instantly. Those people told other people, and—you know how that works.”

“It only works if you have a quality product,” he said. “So you must be good. Where did you learn to sew—sorry, design.” His grin was unrepentant and cocky, as if he knew he would be forgiven.

“I studied at a school in Philadelphia for two years before coming back home.”

“You’re originally from the Westminster area?”

“Not exactly. I moved to Butler County at the same time I started the shop. My family lives in Taneytown, just up the road.” She took a deep breath. “The thing is, Mr.—Jack, I’m on a tight budget. I can’t afford a huge ad campaign.”

“I have clients with all kinds of different needs.” When he smiled at her this time, she was prepared. She doubted he was talking strictly about business, either, from the amusement gleaming in his eyes. But she wasn’t in the market for a playboy who flirted with every female in sight, no matter how attractive he was.

She didn’t smile in return. “I’m scheduled for displays at several local bridal shows next spring. I was thinking of some kind of brochure or flyer that people could take away with them.”

Jack nodded. “That’s a good first step for increasing your customer base. You’ve certainly got the right market.” Again, that smile that invited her to step into his world. “All those brides-to-be with money to burn and dresses to be drooled over.”

“Most brides-to-be are very budget conscious.” The harder he tried to get her to relax, the more tense she became. She’d run into men like him before. One, in particular, and now she knew why he made her feel so uptight. Oliver had been charming, too. Correction: Oliver had been good at using charm. Just like Jack Ferris.

Jack’s eyes had grown thoughtful and faraway as he pulled up a yellow legal pad and began to take notes. “That’s a good place to start. With affordability.” He paused, and he was back in the present with her. “Are your gowns affordable?”

She nodded. “For handmade items, my prices are reasonable. I’ve compared them to a few others.”

“Good.” He scribbled furiously. “Why don’t you tell me what you want to get across in a brochure. What do you want them to learn when they read about your gowns?”

Once he entered his business mode, he really was very efficient, she mused later, gathering her things together and rising to leave. Unfortunately, the flirtatiousness reappeared as he held the door for her.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said in a low voice, winking at her.

“I’ll look forward to seeing your ideas for the brochure,” she replied. She was forced to take his hand for one final seal-the-deal shake. Just like the first time, his hand was big and warm, and somehow as intimate as that darned smile.

Frannie spotted the wildly waving hands the minute she entered the deli, and she wound her way toward the table where her two closest friends in Westminster were waiting. She noted with amusement that Jillian Kerr already had attracted a man, who was hovering over her like a fish about to take a tasty bite.

“Hi, Frannie.” Deirdre Patten rose from her seat almost desperately to hug Frannie. Dee considered men only slightly less threatening than big snarling dogs. Even something as harmless as having one determinedly buzzing around Jill was enough to put her on edge.

“Sweetie.” Jillian rose, too, and came around the table to kiss her cheek. The man with her was forced to step back, and Jill cast him a cheery smile over her shoulder. “Okay, Bill, time for you to do a disappearing act. This is strictly a ladies’ luncheon.”

Frannie grinned at her as the guy departed. “You never cease to amaze me. Has there ever been a time when you didn’t wrap every man you met around your finger?”

To her surprise, Jillian’s cheerful, confident smile wavered for a moment. “Once,” she said, and grimly added, “but never again.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Frannie could see that Jill would reject any comfort or sympathy, so she strove for a light note. “You know, you and Jack Ferris would make a good pair.”

“Puh-leez!” Jill held up her two index fingers in a playful sign of the cross, as if to ward off the idea. “I’ve met Jack. He’ll still be flirting when he’s ninety. He’s a handsome hunk, all right, but definitely not for me—I like a man I can control.”

Deirdre giggled. “Forget Jack, then. He’s really, really bad on a leash.” Then she turned to Frannie. “So you went to see him? What did he say about your idea for a brochure?”

“He was going to work up a rough draft and price it for me. He was supposed to get back to me the next day. But it’s been over two weeks,” Frannie said. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Deirdre. “He wasn’t what I expected. He’s not the kind of man I’d think you’d be comfortable around.”

Dee shrugged. “Jack and I grew up on the same street. My brother played lacrosse with him. He was just another brother underfoot for years.”

Jillian eyed Frannie. “So what did our Miss Brooks think of Ferris the Flirt? Does that man make you drool, or what?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in him.” She knew she was avoiding a direct answer.

“Just because I don’t want to marry the man doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the way he wears his jeans.” Jillian winked at Dee. “So what did you think?” she said again.

“Like you said, he’s a flirt.” Frannie shook her head. “When he turns on the charm, a woman just wants to fall at his feet. Which I’m sure many of them do. Which I’m sure feeds his ego nicely.”

“Did you fall at his feet?” Jill feigned shock. “I thought you were immune to flirtatious men.”

“He’s not like that,” Dee protested. “Jack’s a nice guy. I don’t think he’s the kind who carves a notch in his bedpost.”

“But we need to find out,” added Jill. She pointed at Frannie. “You’re elected.”

“I don’t think so.” Frannie laughed, then sobered. “Besides, I’m less than impressed with his tardy response. I’m not sure I’d want to use him, even if his prices are reasonable.”

“That’s not like Jack,” Deirdre said. “I rarely see him anymore, but unless he’s changed, he’s very prompt, especially with business matters.”

“Oh, well.” Frannie dismissed the topic as the waitress approached to take their lunch order. “At this point all I want is to get my portfolio of photos back. I need it to show to potential clients.”

Two hours later she was staring in openmouthed shock at Jack Ferris’s estimate for a brochure, which had arrived in her afternoon mail. And Dee said his rates were reasonable? Since Deirdre also had her own small business, Frannie had assumed she was as frugal as Frannie herself. Maybe she was. But one thing she knew was that it was going to be a while before Brooks’ Bridals could afford to advertise.

Quite a while.

It was a disappointing thought. She’d been pleased—no, more like ecstatic—at the success she’d had since opening her business. Coming to a city, even a small one like Westminster, alone had been terrifying for a girl who’d lived with a large family all of her life. It had been strange not having anyone to take care of at first, so she’d thrown herself into her work.

And it certainly had paid off. She’d hired her first assistant seamstress recently, and four months ago she had brought in a part-time coordinator who went to the weddings and fussed over the last-minute details of making brides appear perfect. But it looked like she’d have to wait awhile before she grew any more. Especially if these were the current rates of advertising.

She went to the telephone and looked up the number for Your Ad Goes Here, Jack Ferris’s company. The same girl who’d greeted her the day she’d been at his office answered the phone, and when Frannie asked for Jack, explained that he was out of town and was expected home soon. Frannie had to settle for leaving a message.

Five days later, she tried again. This time a canned message played and recorded her call. The same message was on the machine every day for the rest of that week, saying little except that the agency was temporarily closed due to a family emergency.

By the following Friday, Frannie was out of patience with Jack Ferris and his appalling business manners, family problems or not. This time she looked up his home number and tried it.

No answer, just his machine.

Doggone it, enough was enough. She’d been patient, and relatively pleasant, for a month now. This was inexcusable.

She needed those photos. If Jack Ferris wouldn’t answer his phone, she was going to camp on his doorstep until she got back her portfolio.

The address turned out to be a pretty brick condo that looked spacious and pricey from the outside. She rang the bell five times, but no one answered, and she heard no voices or noise from inside. As she expected, the door was locked. Dam that man! In addition to being an annoying flirt, he was irresponsible. She’d told him during their meeting that she couldn’t be without the photos for very long. He’d promised to call her within the week.

One week. Hah! Soon it would be four of them. She’d noticed a framed university diploma on his wall, so she knew he’d been taught to count. Obviously the lesson hadn’t stuck.

The condo was an end unit. Anger made her bold and she marched around to the back and mounted the two-level wooden deck. There was a sliding glass door just to the left of an enormous barbecue grill, and she walked over and peered inside. The vertical blinds were pulled back, and she could see a kitchen with a dining area and beyond that, the beginnings of a living room. The counters were nearly immaculate, spoiled only by a lone coffee cup resting on its side and a newspaper which had spilled from the counter to the floor.

Weird. The place was immaculate otherwise. Those two small hints at sloppiness didn’t fit. None of her brothers could manage to pick up after themselves, but it wasn’t selective. Everything they owned was a jumbled mess. Maybe Jack had a cleaning lady who just hadn’t been in yet this week.

Still... something bothered her. It looked almost as if Jack had gone tearing off somewhere in a tremendous hurry, and hadn’t been back since.

Well, it was none of her concern, she told herself firmly, as she descended the wooden steps and walked back the way she had come. All she wanted was her property back. Then he could—

A silver sports car pulled into the driveway beside her van just as she opened the driver’s door. Through its windshield, she caught a glimpse of Jack Ferris’s face, which was obscured by the frame as the car slid to a smooth stop beside her.

Finally! She was elated. It was rare for her to get angry, and rarer still for her to utter so much as a sharp word, but several choice ones sprang to the front of her mind. She started to step around to the driver’s side, but stopped in her tracks, staring through the passenger side window. In the passenger seat was strapped an infant car seat.

And in the car seat was what appeared to be a very young baby, screaming its little head off.

Before the sight really had time to register, Jack popped out of the car exactly like a child’s jack-in-the-box, arms waving wildly and hair disheveled. Only no one pushed him back down into his box. He sprinted around the car, sparing Frannie a distracted, mildly puzzled glance and a “Hi,” as he tore open the passenger door and started to release the restraints holding the infant in place.

With the door open, the baby’s shrieks increased in volume immediately. Its little voice sounded hoarse, like it had been screaming for a while, and its little fists and face were red with rage.

Jack scooped up the baby awkwardly, holding it loosely in one arm. His other hand made patting motions in the air near the child’s kicking, cycling legs, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to go about comforting the baby. Then he turned to face Frannie.

“Uh, Miss Brooks, right?”

“Yes.” She strove to keep her voice crisp and professional, though it was getting more and more difficult to ignore the infant squalling between them. “I’ve been trying to contact you. I need my portfolio back. Immediately.”

Jack juggled the child into his other arm and reached behind the seat for a pale yellow diaper bag, stuffed to the brim. The child kept screaming. “Oh, man...” He shook his head. “I completely forgot you. I bet you’d like to clobber me.”

He straightened up and for the first time she saw how very weary he looked. His eyes were dull and red rimmed, and his hair was standing on end where it was long enough on the top. The squirming child slipped a little in his grip and Frannie reacted automatically, placing her hands beneath the baby’s tiny body. She couldn’t stand that screaming another minute. It cut at her soft heart and reminded her of all the nieces and nephews she’d rocked to sleep over the years.

“May I?” She slipped one hand up under the little wobbly head as Jack nodded immediately.

“Please,” he said, and it was heartfelt. He released the baby and Frannie automatically shifted it into a close embrace against her shoulder, cupping the padded bottom with one hand while the other rubbed small, soothing circles around the infant’s tiny back. She realized she had started a patter of gentle baby talk, rocking gently from side to side the moment the child settled into her arms, and she huffed out a breath of amused resignation at herself. Old habits came back dangerously easily.

Jack had gone around to the trunk and was lifting out a portable crib and several other bags. Buried beneath all the items he was balancing in his grip, he came around to Frannie’s side and peered down at the baby. The child finally was quieting, its little chest catching in occasional spasms as its sobs subsided.

“How’d you do that?” he demanded. “She’s been screaming since the moment we got off the plane.”

Frannie was astonished. “You’ve been flying with her?” She realized the child was a girl as she noted his use of the feminine pronoun.

He nodded. “It’s a long story. But I’m sure you’re not interested.” He hesitated. “Could you hold her until I get the stuff out of the car and set up this crib?”

Frannie nodded.

“The thing is,” he said over his shoulder as he started for the door, “your pictures are at my office. If you can wait until tomorrow, I’ll get my secretary to deliver them personally first thing in the morning. The office has been closed—that’s why you couldn’t reach anyone.” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry. I thought I had all the loose ends tied up.”

She trailed along behind him, crooning to the baby. Her portfolio seemed less important now, and she was ashamed of her anger. Whatever he’d been doing, Jack clearly hadn’t simply neglected to get her things back to her. “That would be fine.”

Stepping through the door, she took in the expensive furniture and the lush, deep pile of the carpet. Jack had dumped a pile of baby accessories on the couch and was pulling open the portable crib. Unfortunately, it was designed like most things that were advertised as easy to set up and take down. As fast as he pushed one side into place, another snapped back up. He finally got smart and planted one enormous loafer at one end, using his upper body to stretch the two opposing sides. That left one more side to be pulled into place, and Frannie took pity on him. She walked over and got a firm grip on the rail with her free hand. “Okay, now pull,” she said.

The crib popped open and Jack stood back with a sigh. “Thanks. Why don’t you just put her down in there while I get the rest of the stuff? She’ll probably play or something until I get unpacked.”

He was kidding. She hoped. Cautiously she pointed to a mechanism on the bottom of the crib. “You need to push this down to lock it into place. Otherwise, it could fold up with her in it.”

Jack stared at the little lever. “Oh.” He reached down and secured it. “It’s a good thing you’re here.”

“Um, I hate to be a busybody, but I don’t think she’s going to be very happy if I put her down.” Frannie glanced at the baby, who wasn’t screaming anymore, but was definitely beginning to root around, banging her little head against Frannie’s sweater in a vain quest for dinner.

Jack looked dubious. “Well, I’ll take her. I guess I can unpack with one hand.”

He started to reach for the child with a distinctly apprehensive expression on his face.

“Jack.”

“What?” He paused.

She waited, but he seemed genuinely oblivious to the infant’s increasingly restless behavior. Finally she said, “I think she’s hungry.”

He smacked himself in the forehead. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? The lady on the plane said she’d probably get hungry every three or four hours.”

This was getting stranger and stranger. Frannie couldn’t imagine what Jack Ferris was doing with this baby. Clearly, he didn’t have the faintest notion of how to care for her. “How long has it been since she was changed?” she asked.

He speared one hand through his hair and Frannie realized why it was standing on end. “I don’t know. I guess since...I think one of the flight attendants changed her.”

“You think? Where is her mother, Jack?” And why on God’s green earth would she entrust her to your care!

Jack’s shoulders sagged. “Her mother is dead.” He looked at the baby. “I’m all she’s got now.”

Her mother is dead. Whatever answer she’d imagined, that one had been far, far from even making the list. Slowly, she sank down on the edge of the sofa. The weight of the baby in her arms suddenly seemed vitally warm and alive, precious and fragile. She looked down at the little girl, noting the dusting of blond hair, the flushed cheek and tiny, perfect lips.

“Do you mean you’re keeping her?” She hated to keep asking intrusive questions, but her conscience would not, absolutely could not, let her walk away from this place until she was sure the infant was being properly cared for.

Jack sat down opposite her on a wide hassock. “Yes. I’m her legal guardian, and her only living relative.” His elbows rested on his knees, and his big hands dangled between them. He dropped his head.

This puzzle didn’t have enough pieces for her to even frame it up with all the straight edges. “Is she...are you the father?”

Jack’s head shot up. “Of course not!” He glared at her.

She shrugged. “It was a logical question.” The baby was growing angry again, and she stood and rocked her. “Maybe we’d better change her and feed her.”

“Right.” He stood, too, and looked around for the diaper bag. Then he hesitated, turning back to her. “Miss Brooks—”

“Frannie.” She smiled. “Miss Brooks is too formal for someone who’s about to get spit up on.”

“You’ll stay for a while?” His face lit up so pathetically she would have laughed if the whole situation wasn’t so sad. “I don’t want to intrude if you have plans, but I need a crash course in baby care. Just the basics, until I can take her to a doctor and figure out this whole deal.”

She wanted to tell him “the basics” were a major part of a young baby’s life, but she sensed he was about at the end of his rope. “Sure. I can stay for a while.”

He was a very different man from the self-confident flirt she’d met in his office last month. While she changed the baby—whose name, Jack said, was Alexa—he brought in the rest of the things he’d stashed in the car. Then he hovered, uncertainty radiating from him like a bad sunburn, watching her mix formula, test the temperature of the liquid on her wrist and settle down on the sofa to feed Alexa.

She realized he’d gotten a yellow legal pad at some point. “Are you going to try to work tonight? Because you really need to understand that babies—”

“I’m not working.” Wearily, he plopped down beside her. “I’m taking notes on everything you did so I don’t forget it when I’m on my own.”

“There are books that can tell you this stuff,” she said gently.

He’d let his head drop back against the couch and the notes lay half-finished on his lap. “How did you learn so much about babies?”

“I have three younger brothers,” she said. “And two of them have children that I’ve helped to raise.”

His eyes were closed and she risked staring for a moment, taking in the details of his profile, the enormous hands spread over thighs that looked heavily muscled even when disguised by his khaki pants. His jaw was heavy with stubble several shades darker than his hair, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. It only emphasized how very masculine he was, as if she wasn’t already aware of that.

As she shifted the baby to her shoulder to burp her, her arm brushed against his. It was like brushing concrete. No, that was wrong. Concrete didn’t exude heat; concrete didn’t tempt her to touch. His arms were as toasty as if he had a furnace inside, packed in solid muscle.

He turned toward her then, and she forgot all about her speculations. He was closer than their limited acquaintance dictated, and as he put one hand against Alexa’s back, he leaned even closer. “Thank you,” he said, and she watched his lips form the words with a fascinated detachment. How would those lips feel against hers? Would his kisses be tentative, persuasive? Or was he as sure of his kissing as he was of his flirting? If so, he would be a very dangerous man.

And this was a dangerous line of thinking. One she had no intention of pursuing.

“You realize a child is going to change your life completely,” she said to him. “Are you sure there’s no one more—no one else to take her?”

“I’m sure,” he said. Although he still was turned toward her, his eyes were looking into a memory she couldn’t share, and the sudden grief in his face unnerved her.

Without thinking, she put her free hand to the side of his cheek.

Immediately he covered it with his own, closing his eyes as if to savor the contact. “Alexa is my niece,” he said. He released the pressure holding her hand in place, but turned his own and carried hers to his lap, where he played absently with her fingers. “My brother and his wife were killed in an accident.”

Frannie could see the naked sense of loss on his face. “So your brother is—was her father?” It took a determined effort of will to ignore the gentle rub of his fingers over her knuckles.

“Yeah. Randy and Gloria had been trying for a long time to start a family. They were pretty thrilled when Alexa was born.” He squeezed his eyes closed, as if to deny reality. “A tractor-trailer jackknifed and slid into them on a highway two weeks after she was born. Alexa wasn’t injured because her car seat sat so low in the back seat—the whole top half of the car was sheared off.”

Frannie stifled a small cry. Cold prickles of goose bumps spread down her arms and she shivered involuntarily. She turned her palm up and linked her fingers through his, gripping tightly. “Oh, Jack, I am so sorry. What a terrible tragedy.” The full impact of the story sank in on her as the baby on her shoulder made a funny little lip-smacking sound and she realized this child would never know her mother or father, that her uncle Jack was the only family she had.

He sighed heavily. “I’ve been stuck in Florida for almost a month, disposing of their estate and straightening out the custody arrangements for Alexa.” The small messy details of the coffee and newspaper she’d glimpsed in his kitchen through the back door made sense now. Those would have been the last things on his mind when he got that phone call.

Well, Alexa certainly could have fared worse. “She’s a lucky little girl,” she said. “I don’t know a lot of men who would willingly take on a twenty-year commitment without some serious reservations.”

“Oh,I have reservations,” Jack assured her. “You’ve seen the extent of my child-rearing skills. Alexa might not think she’s so lucky after a couple of days with me.” A trace of humor surfaced in his eyes and then he grinned. “And I don’t know the first thing about how to handle puberty and dating.”

Frannie’s opinion of Jack Ferris had risen significantly in the past hour; now it rose even more. “I was thinking more along the lines of how a baby is going to torpedo your social life. Not to mention your romantic interests.”

“Yeah, I can foresee some serious changes in my future. I may have to get married just to get some help with this.” He indicated the child, now dozing on Frannie’s shoulder.

He might have been joking, but his words struck a nerve she thought had been buried. “Why?” Her voice was crisp, reflecting the resentment that gripped her. “Women aren’t automatically programmed to be the family caretakers.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I have to be going.” With the ease of experience, she shifted the sleeping baby into Jack’s arms and set the bottle down on the coffee table. “I don’t think she’ll eat any more right now. She’s exhausted. You’d better put her down and get some sleep yourself. She’ll be hungry again in a few hours.”

“Frannie, wait.”

But she didn’t want to hear any more. Whether or not he’d meant it, she couldn’t pretend to be amused by his comment. Not when she had a vivid image of herself almost having been stuck in a loveless marriage solely for that very reason. “Relax. You’ll be fine. You wrote down everything you need to survive tonight. Tomorrow you should call the pediatrician’s office. They can recommend some parenting classes and books to help you.”

She stood and looked around for her purse, telling herself she had no reason to feel guilty. This baby wasn’t her problem. She barely knew Jack and she certainly wasn’t responsible for helping him with Alexa. He would do just fine.


Two

True to Jack’s word, Frannie’s portfolio was delivered to her first thing Monday morning by the same friendly blonde she’d seen in his office.

“I am really sorry about this,” the woman said. “Jack and I had to coordinate a number of things by phone where he got called down to Florida, and I overlooked it.”

“That’s all right. Unavoidable things happen sometimes.” Frannie hadn’t been able to continue being piqued at Jack. Not after she’d lain awake half the night thinking about how he was doing with the baby.

“Jack tells me you were a godsend on Friday evening.” The blonde smiled sympathetically. “I’ve never thought of Jack as a father in all the years we’ve been together. He certainly has his hands full.”

The woman’s words caught Frannie off guard. The way he’d flirted, charmed her last night had made her forget what kind of man he was. Anger lit a small fuse inside her He had no business flirting with her like that when he clearly had a long-term relationship with his secretary.

“It was no big deal,” she said, practically shooing the blonde out and preparing to close the door. “I’d have done the same for anybody.”

The rest of the morning she was conscious of a feeling of...disappointment nagging at her. It must be human nature to want to assume the best of someone. She’d given Jack the benefit of the doubt when she should have known better. Especially when she’d had first-hand experience with the same kind of man before.

Well, she wasn’t going to give Jack Ferris another thought. She immediately called two clients and set up appointments for them to go over the portfolio with her, then went to work on a beautiful old dress that one client’s mother had worn. The girl wanted to wear it, but unfortunately she was a bit larger than her mother. Frannie had devised twin panels of additional fabric as an insert at the waist that inconspicuously offered the necessary size adjustment. Both the bride and her mother were delighted.

In the middle of the morning, a delivery from the florist interrupted a final fitting for a girl whose wedding was the following Saturday.

“Got something here for you, Frannie,” the man called.

Rising from her knees, where she’d been fiddling with the hemline that the bride insisted had be to lengthened to accommodate the higher heels she had bought over the weekend, Frannie pushed through the swinging saloon-style doors from the fitting area.

Her regular delivery man stood in the middle of the shop, totally hidden behind a huge spray of red roses beautifully displayed with ferns and baby’s breath. His big feet in heavy work boots looked ridiculously out of place on the pale pink carpet. “You musta really impressed some fella.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Frannie replied. “They’re probably for one of my brides, though why they would have been sent here is a mystery.”

“I don’t know ’bout that,” he said. He set the arrangement down on top of a glass counter displaying a variety of ladies’ dress gloves. “It’s got your name right here.” He pointed to the address attached to the flowers before turning to leave. “You have a nice day now.”

“You, too,” Frannie said absently as she slid the small white card from its accompanying envelope.

You’re my angel. Jack.

Pleasure swept through her. An image of Jack’s face rose for an instant before the damper of reality intruded. Jack only was expressing his thanks with this too-extravagant gesture. He might have made her heart beat faster for a few hours, but that was immaterial. He was involved already. With at least one woman, she thought, remembering the phone conversation he’d been having the day she’d been shown into his office.

“Whoo-hoo! What did you have to do for those?” April, her assistant, peeked through the doors, then walked over to read the card as she bent toward the roses and inhaled deeply. “Who’s Jack? And how come florists’ roses never have any smell?”

“A little favor, a business acquaintance, and I don’t know.” Under April’s suspicious gaze, Frannie fought the urge to fidget. It was true; Jack was just an acquaintance whom she’d helped out. The roses meant nothing to him other than, “Thank you.”

And, of course, that was what they meant to her, too.

The rest of the week passed in a frantic blur. June was a big month in the bridal business; come July, the bell over the shop door probably wouldn’t ring once the whole day, but it certainly was getting a workout in June. On Friday afternoon Frannie and April were sharing a soda and nursing fingers sore from so much detailed handwork, when the door to the shop’s entry jangled yet again.

Wearily Frannie got to her feet. She would give a lot to be able to flip that sign over to Closed for the rest of the day. But they had fittings scheduled right up until they locked up that evening. With a sigh, she pushed through the doors into the shop with a smile firmly pinned in place.

She stopped dead when she saw Jack Ferris lounging against a counter, smiling at her. He was wearing a sort of backpack with Alexa snuggled into it, except that it was carried on his broad chest rather than his back. One hand patted a gentle rhythm against the spot where Alexa’s back was. It was hard to tear her gaze from the sight. The contrast between the baby’s pink, lace-edged bonnet and his big, blunt-fingered hand struck her hard in the heart.

He was wearing dun-colored slacks with a dark green knit shirt that made his eyes look silver. Or maybe it was just the light in the shop. Whatever, he looked wonderful. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath backed up in her throat for a minute. She despised her reaction, but she couldn’t control it.

“This is a surprise,” she finally managed. To her everlasting relief, her voice sounded relatively normal, if a bit higher than usual.

Jack straightened and came toward her, moving around the counter to her side. “I know. We just came from the doctor’s office and I thought you might want to hear how Lex is doing.”

“Lex?” To cover her flustered state, she seized on the name as she sidled a step away. “You’re calling that beautiful little girl Lex?”

“Sure. Every kid needs a nickname.” He took a step closer and smiled down at her. “Frannie is a nickname, isn’t it? Short for Francesca?”

“Don’t I wish.” She shook her head as she backed up another step. “Short for Frances.”

“I’m glad you’re not Frances or Fran. I like ‘Frannie,”’ Jack pronounced, advancing again.

She didn’t care what he liked. She just wished the man would quit invading her personal space. She took another step backward, and the wall brought her up short. “I like ‘Frannie,’ too.” Why are you here?

“And Jack, of course, is another name for John. My father was John, and I have to say I’m glad. Don’t you think Jack suits me?” He took another step closer.

“Jack suits you.” She took a deep breath. “You’re crowding me.”

“I know.”

She was startled into looking up and as she did so, she realized how very close he was. Their bodies were only inches apart, separated by the small mound of the baby’s carrier. He was smiling that intimate smile again, and she reminded herself that it was second nature for him, that there was nothing personal about it.

“Do you do this to all your friends?” She made her voice light and amused.

At the outer edges of his eyes, the grooves deepened. “Only my absolute favorites.” But he moved back a step.

She stayed where she was, with her back to the wall. Had she imagined it, or had his eyes grown watchful? “Thank you for the roses. It really wasn’t necessary, though.”

“I didn’t do it because I thought it was necessary,” he said. “I appreciate the time you took helping me with Alexa. She’d been in foster care practically until the moment we stepped on the plane. I’ve never been around babies much. It was a shock to have this little scrap of life dependent on me for every need all of a sudden.”

“A first baby is a shock even when you’ve anticipated its arrival for months.”

“No kidding.” His voice was dry, and for the first time she noticed that he looked tired. “When people talk about how sweet babies are, they never tell you that they get you up in the middle of the night or that they throw up on you ten times a day and scream bloody murder when you give them a bath.”

To cover her urge to laugh, Frannie coughed.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “That didn’t fool me. You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“Yes, but only because I’ve lived through it.”

Jack cocked his head to one side, and his eyes suddenly were clear and alert. “You told me you helped with your brothers’ children.”

“Yes. Between them I have five nieces and nephews. One of my brothers’ wives had twins a few years ago. They were premature and needed a lot of care for the first few months after they were released from the hospital.” She smiled, remembering how fussy Robert’s twins had been. “For about three months there, I was in desperate need of a few hours of unbroken sleep.”

Jack was nodding. “It’s only been a week, and I already feel that way. I’m keeping my fingers crossed, though. For the past two nights she’s slept for five hours straight. I think we’re on the right track.”

Alexa stirred and he looked down. “What’s the matter, baby doll? Are you tired of being crammed into that sack?” He glanced at Frannie. “Would you like to hold her?”

She really shouldn’t. She was up to her eyeballs in work. But she could already feel the sweet weight of the little body in her arms. “I’d love to.”

He lifted Alexa from her nest and passed her into Frannie’s hands, and she noted that in just one week he had gotten pretty sure of himself. It showed in the careful, competent way he handled the child as he untied the bonnet’s strings and lifted the little cap from her head.

“Hello, sweetie. How’s my girl today? I bet you’re having fun with your uncle Jack.” She used the special voice she reserved for teeny ones as she clucked and murmured.

Jack chuckled. “I don’t know if we’re having fun, but we’re managing.”

Alexa yawned and grimaced, and her blue eyes focused intently on Frannie’s. Then her tiny face crinkled in a wide grin.

Could a person’s heart melt? Frannie felt as if her whole being suddenly had softened as a rush of maternal delight swept over her. “Oh, look! She’s smiling at me.”

“She’ll smile at anything right now.”

“Thanks a lot. That was flattering.”

“I guess that didn’t come out quite right.” He chuckled again. “One of my clients brought her a rag doll that’s almost the size she is. I set it in the corner of the crib and every time she catches sight of its face, she smiles.”

Frannie rocked the baby as Alexa stretched and cooed. “You know a friendly face when you see one, don’t you, chickadee?” Holding Alexa up, she brushed her cheek across the down-covered scalp, then lifted her head to smile at Jack. “This has got to be my favorite age. I adore them when they’re tiny and helpless and they look at you like you’re God. Then again, toddlers are delightful, too. Just in a different way. And they’re really fun when they hit school age....”

Her voice trailed away. He was still standing too close, but she’d forgotten when she’d been absorbed in the baby. Now she remembered.

He was looking at her mouth as she spoke. It was a silly thing, but it struck her as unbelievably seductive. Even when she stopped speaking, he didn’t meet her eyes, but continued to watch her lips.

Time stopped. Her breath stopped. Deep in her abdomen, she felt a flower of warmth blossoming, unsettling her, the excitement of arousal stirring and softening her in a manner totally different from the maternal feelings she had for Alexa.

Slowly he lifted one big hand, up and up and up until it was hovering at her cheek. His index finger feathered a whisper of sensation along the bow of her upper lip; his gaze followed the motion.

She kept her own eyes on his face, studying its blunt contours, the broad sweep of his brow, the sandy lashes that formed a thick screen about his eyes. Had she ever seen a man so beautifully formed before?

Jack lifted his gaze to hers. Time stretched and sagged around them while he silently seduced her; in the depths of those bottomless silvery eyes she read a multitude of messages. All of them conveyed arousal, and a desire that curled her toes inside the comfortable flats she was wearing.

Alexa chose that moment to utter a full, resounding belch worthy of the bowling alley or the golf course.

Frannie jumped and looked down at Alexa.

Jack’s gaze flew to the baby, too. Slowly that heart-stopping smile spread over his face as he looked back at Frannie. “Wow. If she were a man, I’d consider that a challenge.”

Frannie laughed, feeling the tension of the last few moments shatter as she handed the baby back to him. “Here. You’d better take her. I seem to have an adverse effect on her.”

“Hardly.” Jack’s voice dropped to a lower pitch. “You’ve had a great effect on her. And on me.”

Butterflies rose in a flurry of sensation in her stomach. Doggone it. He was the worst flirt she’d ever met. Mentally she kicked herself for succumbing to his charm, if only for a moment, and willed herself to ignore the mad beating of butterfly wings. “Well, thanks for stopping by. It was nice to see you both. I hope the adjustment period continues to go as smoothly.”

In the act of resettling Alexa in her little sack, Jack paused. “Um, Frannie?”

For a moment she’d swear a look of...almost guilt, she supposed, crossed his face. Then it was gone, and he was affable, incredibly attractive Jack again. “I really have to get back to work now,” she told him.

“I know. This will only take a minute. I have something I’d like you to think about.”

Think? He wanted her to think? I think seeing you again, even in a chance meeting, is a really bad idea, she told him silently. He could make her forget too much, offer too much—

“I need to find someone to baby-sit for Alexa while I work. Would you consider keeping her?”

“Would I...?” It took a moment to sink in. Frost swept through her, and the butterflies died in the chill, becoming a dead weight in her stomach. Outrage rose. There was little she disliked more than men who used their charm to wheedle women into doing them “a favor.” She felt like she’d hopped onto a carousel horse that kept bringing her around to the same old point again and again. Did she have a sign stamped on her forehead that read Nursemaid or Housekeeper?

It was a struggle to keep her expression blank. “Who’s keeping her now?” she asked carefully. Beneath the surface, anger began to consume her, boiling higher and higher every second.

“I’ve been taking her to work with me,” he said. “Between Marlene and me—she’s my secretary—we’ve been managing, but it’s just too hectic. She really needs to be with someone who has more time for her.”

“So what makes you think I have the time?”

There was a bite in her voice now, and Jack looked cautious, as if he’d wandered into the middle of a minefield and was trying desperately to pick his way out intact. He looked around and spread his hands to indicate her shop. “I just—this is attached to your home, isn’t it? You sew, which doesn’t require dealing with people constantly, and you’re fantastic with her—I know you love children.”

She dug both hands into her hair to keep from putting them around his thick neck. “Yes, Jack, this is attached to my home. Do you know why? Because during the big bridal season, I’m too busy to even take time to drive to work and back.” Her voice rose. “And just how do you suppose I make clothing that fits my clients?”

“I don’t—”

“I have people wandering in and out of here all day long for fittings and design sessions and fabric consultations. I have customers scheduled right up until eight o’clock tonight. Come here.”

She turned and marched to the back of the shop and pushed through the doors into the fitting and sewing room, seeing it through Jack’s eyes as he followed her.

A three-way mirror with a platform in front for viewing clothing was mounted at one end of the room. One wall was filled with shelving on which were sewing supplies, dozens of different fabrics, bridal magazines and accessories. Hats, veils, shoes, hosiery, frilly white parasols and clever little beaded purses filled shelves to overflow. The wall opposite the mirror was one enormous closet. When the doors were folded back as they were now, more than fifty dresses in various stages of completion could be seen hanging. Against the fourth wall were three sewing machines. Directly behind them was an enormous, custom-designed worktable on which April was pinning a pattern to a swath of satin. Two ironing boards stood beside it Everything was neat and tidy, but it was clear this was a busy place to be.

“Does this look like I have time to baby-sit?” she demanded, turning back to Jack.

Behind her, April said, “Hi, I’m April. Are you Roses-Jack?”

“That’s me,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, April. Do me a favor and tell the coroner I died from having large quantities of roses stuffed down my throat.”

April laughed, clearly delighted, and Frannie thought bitterly that he could get most women to do just about anything. Too bad for him, she wasn’t most women. Anymore.

“April, take a break. Go drink a soda, take a walk, go in the house and watch a soap opera,” Frannie told her.

April’s eyes rounded. “Yes, ma’am.” She laid down her shears and exited the workroom through Frannie’s private door.

“Look, Frannie, I’m sorry,” Jack said.

“No, you’re not.” Her voice was hard. “You might be sorry you weren’t able to sweet-talk me into keeping your baby, but you’re not sorry you tried to con me into the job. Do you realize how shallow you seem? You’ve spent your whole life using your charm to get women to do your bidding, haven’t you? I bet ninety percent of your clientele is female, because they’re easier for you to manipulate than other men.”

“You’d lose the bet.” His voice was as chilly as hers was heated.

“You never expected me to refuse, did you? You just assumed that because I loved your baby—and yes, I admit I’m wild about children—I’d be happy to help you out once you batted your eyes at me and smiled.” She held open one of the doors leading to the shop out front. “Too bad for you I’ve met charmers before. As a breed, you’re distinctly unimpressive. Now, if you’ll leave, I have work to do.”

Jack’s face was grim. He hesitated for a moment, and Frannie was shaken by the black fire in his eyes. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

He moved toward the door, and again she was struck by how graceful he was for a big man. As he reached her, she stepped back so he could pass, but he paused, forcing her to look up to meet his eye. And even though she knew he was deliberately using his size to intimidate her, she quailed inwardly. She only hoped it didn’t show, and she lifted her chin higher in defiance.

“You’re wrong about me, but you were right about one thing. I’m not sorry I tried to con you into keeping Alexa. My biggest concern is finding someone who will love her as much as I do. I knew she’d be safe—and loved—with you.”

He turned and brushed through the doors, and her whole body sagged as the angry electricity in the air went with him.

She absolutely could not stand him. She should be pleased with herself that she had stood up to him. Instead, his final words echoed in her ears, making her feel small and mean—and guilty.

The rat. He probably knew exactly what he was saying, and how it would affect her.

The match was tied, 3 to 3. As he sprinted down the lacrosse field, one eye on the lacrosse ball, Jack caught his attention wandering away from the game. It wandered toward the same place it had about every thirty seconds throughout the match—toward the bleachers off to the right, where Frannie Brooks had sashayed her little butt up onto a bench right before the game began.

He’d been so shaken up when he first saw her that the coach had to call his name three times to get his attention. What in tarnation was she doing at his match? He was positive he’d never seen her here before. For about ten minutes, he’d entertained the fantasy that she’d sought him out, that she had come to apologize for the things she’d said almost two weeks ago—eleven days, if anybody was counting.

Which he wasn’t. The opinion of one girl with wide, serious eyes, the most kissable mouth he’d ever seen and incredibly sexy legs didn’t matter one whit to him.

After a few minutes of watching her, while waiting for the match to begin, he realized that she was with the sister of one of his teammates, Dee Halleran—no, she was married now. Or at least she had been. Her brother had said she was divorced.

Just then, Dee said something to Frannie as she turned and pointed straight at him. Frannie looked at him, too, and he saw the shock in her face. There was no way she had known he would be here, he could tell, and she apparently hadn’t recognized him beneath his face mask. Dee waved, but he pretended he didn’t see her as the coach gathered the players for last-minute strategy. It must be simple chance that Dee had invited her to come along. He knew they were acquainted because Dee had been the one to refer Frannie to him.

Just then, another attackman passed off to him. He caught the pass easily with his stick and barely had time to send it hurtling toward the goal before the center from the opposing team came at him with bared teeth and narrowed eyes, slamming him hard in the chest and knocking him to the ground.

A scream went up from the sidelines. His teammates were dancing around—ridiculous behavior for a bunch of big guys in face masks—and one man extended a hand to help him off the ground. “Way to go, buddy!” He pounded Jack on the back.

Jack winced. He was getting too darn old for this sport. He’d said that every year for the past five, but this year he meant it. Next season, the only way he’d be stepping onto a lacrosse field was as a coach.

Turning toward the bench, he gathered his stuff into his oversize duffel. Now where the heck was the woman who was watching Lex? She’d reluctantly agreed to keep Alexa during the matches so that he could finish the season, and he knew why. She was as competitive as her husband. If Jack didn’t play and the lineup changed at this late date, it would shake everybody’s confidence. And that would be a bad thing right before the championships.

He spotted the woman’s blond hair at the far end of the bleachers. Shouldering his duffel, he headed her way.

“Hey, there,” the sitter said as he approached. “I think your kid needs to be changed.”

She held Alexa out and plopped her into his arms, then slipped the diaper bag over his shoulder atop the duffel as he peered down at the baby, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Though she did indeed smell as if a diaper switch was in order.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Her husband came up behind her, turning her into his arms and kissing her. “Does that baby make you nervous?”

“You know it.” She laughed. “It’s going to be a few more years before I’m ready for the kind of commitment a baby takes.”

He smiled down at her in an intimate manner that Jack envied. “I think we need a few more years to practice, anyway, just to be sure we’re going about making babies the right way.”

They had their arms around each other’s waists as they walked away. It was easy to admit he envied them. He’d wanted that kind of closeness once, and for a while he thought he had it. A short while.

But he didn’t want to go down memory lane tonight. What he wanted was to talk to Frannie Brooks. Actually, he’d almost be content with the view, he thought, assessing her legs exposed by the shorts she wore. He stopped beside Deirdre, who was talking to her brother.

As he smiled at the two women before him, he was feeling a little jumpy around the edges. Much as he hated to admit it, he owed Frannie an apology. He’d been planning to call her, but this was better.

“Hi, Jack.” Deirdre greeted him with a warm smile, her heart-shaped face lighting up. She looked... worn down. Not just tired from too little sleep, but wiped out, as if she was running on nerves, having depleted her reserves of energy. Surveying her two little boys, who were racing up and down the field with a couple of sticks they’d sneaked off with when the owners weren’t looking, he could see why. Those two would keep anybody on the edge of insanity.

“Hi, Dee.” Wrapping his free arm about her shoulders, he gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. “How are you?” It wasn’t a routine courtesy; he was concerned. He’d known her since they were kids, and he knew things hadn’t turned out well between her and the jerk she had married. She hadn’t been to a game all season, which was unusual in itself.

“Passable.” She brushed off his query and indicated the woman standing silently to one side. “You’ve met Frannie, I believe.”

“Hello, Jack.” Her voice was quiet but not as frigid as he’d expected. Or as frigid as he deserved, maybe. She had been right to be ticked off by his assumption that she could fit a baby into her schedule more easily than he could. He couldn’t figure how he’d come to that idiotic conclusion; fatigue was his only defense. He’d been so wiped out after dealing with the estate and taking on Alexa his brain cells were making faulty connections.

“Hi, Frannie.” He should apologize, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Her little nose was so straight he thought he might have to run a finger down it just for fun, and her eyes were as flirty as ever above the lush curve of her lips, though he was pretty sure she didn’t know how she looked. She was wearing shorts of blue jeans material, with a pretty checked shirt that didn’t quite meet the waistband of the shorts. With each move she made, he caught a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, bare midriff. For some reason, even though her clothing wasn’t painted on or skimpy, she reminded him of a comic strip he’d read as a kid in which a hillbilly girl thoroughly filled out the briefest imaginable clothes. He’d always liked that comic strip.

“How’s Alexa doing?”

Her voice startled him. Good thing she wasn’t a mind reader. As he tried to catch her eye, he noticed that she looked at the baby rather than at him.

“Pretty well,” he said, forcing his mind to make rational conversation. “She has her first cold, but we’re scraping along pretty well together.”

“Lee! You may not hit your brother with that stick!” Deirdre looked over her shoulder at them as she trotted toward her sons, who were now tearing into each other with the sticks. “I’ll be back in a minute, Frannie, and then we’ll go.”

The silence was uncomfortable after she left.

He cleared his throat. Hurry up, Ferris, eat all the humble pie in one big bite. “Look, I’m sorry about the other week. I was a jerk and I don’t blame you for being mad—”

“Hey, Jack! Give me a call.” One of the “groupies” who followed the team patted him familiarly on the butt as she walked by.

He wanted to snarl at the woman to keep her hands to herself and tell her she’d grow old waiting for him to call, but as usual, the manners his father had drilled into him kicked in, and he gave the girl a wave and a smile. “Hey, Iris.”

When he looked back at Frannie, she had a blank, polite expression on her face. “Apology accepted,” she said briskly. But in her eyes, he could see an “I told you so,” and he knew she was marking another tally of condemnation in the column labeled Reasons to Write Off Jack.

She started to turn away, but he grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Great, Ferris, really smooth. Real polite, grabbing her like some ape in a zoo. He suddenly felt stung by the same emotion he’d felt the day she’d practically kicked him out of her store. It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t annoyance. And it couldn’t be hurt, because he’d have to care about her for her to hurt him. But her classification of him as a...a playboy who didn’t care about women had really pushed his buttons.

He’d thought about the encounter every day since then, examining his conscience for twinges of guilt that might identify her accusations as fact. Fact was that he liked seeing women smile, liked knowing he’d made them feel good for a few minutes in their day. Fact was that he never was rude intentionally to the fairer sex, even when they annoyed the hell out of him. Fact was that he honestly didn’t go around seducing women every place he stopped. And fact was that while he’d had his share of liaisons over the years, he wasn’t indiscriminate, and the number wasn’t in double digits, as she clearly believed.

“You’re really wrong about this,” he said. “I’m not some kind of superman with women.”

“I never said you were,” she pointed out.

“Look,” he said. “I hate being at odds with people, and I don’t feel like you’re happy with me, even though you theoretically accepted my apology.”

“There was nothing theoretical about it.”

“Yes, there was.”

“I told you I accepted your apology.” She glared at him.

He knew she was serious. He wanted to be, but it was just too much. Her little chin stuck up in the air as if she were daring him to throw a punch, and her eyes were stormy. Her brown hair was straight and shiny. It framed her face and he found himself fascinated by her lips, as he’d been every time he’d seen her. She looked as kissable as any girl he’d ever met.

“You’re going to accuse me of flirting if I say this, but I swear I’m not. You just look...really, really cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad!”

The charged silence lasted for a long moment. Then, as he raised one eyebrow, her face melted into amusement and she laughed ruefully. “Okay, so I was mad. I’m not now.”

“Good. Friends?” He knew as he held out his hand to shake hers that he was going to have more than friendship from her one day, that he was going to have her in his bed for a long, long time, until whatever magic she worked on him faded and friendship was all that was left. But it probably wasn’t wise to explain that to her right now.

“Friends,” Frannie said.

The diaper bag chose that moment to slide off his shoulder, and Jack juggled Alexa, the bag, his duffel and his stick while he hitched the strap back into place.

She put up a hand to help him, and her fingers slipped briefly over his. Pow. There it was again, that explosion of awareness. He was aware of her in a way he’d never been of a woman before, and when he touched her skin...his own skin did some very interesting things.

When she’d come into his office that first time, he’d noticed she was attractive in a quiet way. He’d been trying to get off the phone from...he forgot the name, but it was a woman he had no plans to call. Ever. And he wished she’d quit calling him.

Frannie had perched sedately on a chair and a bit of leg slipped out from beneath her slim skirt, and his interest had picked up. He had decided to ask her out for dinner if her personality was as nice as her package.

And then she’d dropped those papers and they’d knelt together on the floor picking them up. She’d paused and looked into his face—and the strongest rush of physical need he’d ever experienced hit him like a solid blow from an opponent. For two cents, he’d have taken her right there on the floor. He’d been so astonished he’d just stared at her until he realized he must be making her uncomfortable. He’d never had such a difficult time keeping a meeting on a business footing.

She, on the other hand, had been cool and collected, interested only in what he might come up with to promote her business. She’d walked out of his office and he’d decided to hurry and get the business transaction out of the way so that he could ask her out.

And then he’d gotten a phone call from Florida that changed his life and chased every rational thought out of his head.

What was it about her that hit him in the gut every time she was near? She wasn’t curvy or top-heavy like most of the girls he’d dated, though her legs were nicely trim and her ankles slender. Nor was she blond, another common denominator in his past preferences. She was just... incredibly sexy. Arousing. All of his senses perked up when she got close; his body forgot he was a civilized man. He could almost smell her, although he couldn’t have described it.

Alexa was waking up and he looked down at the baby. His baby. He was beginning to appreciate just how much his life was going to change. He couldn’t ask a woman out right now—what would he do with Alexa? He still hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave her with a sitter. She came to work with him each day, although it was getting more and more difficult as she grew and changed every week.

“Somebody’s getting hungry again,” he said to Frannie.

“Babies tend to do that.” She smiled. Then she hesitated. “Jack, I’ve been meaning to call you.”

Great!

“I’m not going to be able to use your ideas for the brochure right now. The one you came up with would be lovely, but I just can’t swing it right now.”

Deirdre, sons in tow, was advancing across the grass toward them. He couldn’t think. As Alexa began to voice a protest at having to wait so long for a dry bottom and a bottle, Frannie reached out and stroked a finger over one tiny hand before she turned away. “I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”


Three

Alexa had been extraordinarily fussy all day.

Jack paced around the condo with her in his arms as her screams got louder and angrier. What was he doing wrong? He’d checked the usual cause of unhappiness—wet diaper—and tried a bottle, but she’d refused it. She hadn’t slept in hours.

Neither had he, for that matter. It was almost midnight on Saturday night.

His anxiety mounted. He thought she seemed hot, so he took off her little sleeper. Maybe that would make her happier.

But she shrieked louder than ever. He paced around the table in his dining area so many times he was sure he’d worn a path. God, what could be wrong? He knew next to nothing about babies before Alexa. Now he knew almost next to nothing.

He wished he had Frannie’s expertise and years of experience. He’d bet Frannie would have Lex happy and gurgling in her usual good-natured way if she were here.

The thought barely registered in his brain before he knew what he was going to do.

He fumbled the phone book out of the drawer, found her number and punched buttons with his thumb.

One ring. Two rings. Oh, no, he’d forgotten it was the middle of the night. She was probably sleeping.

Or out on a date.

“Hello?”

He’d never felt a rush of relief so sweet. He didn’t know whether it was because he needed help or because he knew she wasn’t out with some other guy, and he didn’t much care. “Frannie? Hi, it’s me. Jack. I’m really sorry about the time. I forgot it was so late, but the thing is—”

“What on earth is wrong with that baby?” Her voice sounded alarmed.

“I don’t know,” he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the screaming. “I’ve tried everything I can think of. I thought maybe you could suggest something.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Please. That would be great. If it’s not too much of an imposi—”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

On her end, the phone clicked off abruptly.

His knees felt weak and he sat down before he fell down. Lex was still screaming bloody murder, but now he could handle it. Frannie was coming.

Her van whipped into his driveway exactly eight minutes later. He knew because he was counting. How many traffic laws had she broken? Didn’t matter. He’d gladly pay every ticket she incurred.

“Let me look at her.” That was all the greeting she offered. He surrendered his screaming niece to another pair of arms and waited expectantly.

Frannie had barely touched Lex’s little body when she raised her head, and the look on her face scared him to death.

“What is it?”

“She’s burning up with fever. Jack, call your doctor right now. I’m going to put her in a cool bath and sponge her down until you talk to him.”

He scrambled for the phone again, listening as Frannie carried the screaming baby up to the bathroom. It occurred to him that she would need towels, but as the doctor’s answering service came on the line, he decided Frannie would find anything she needed.

Twenty minutes later they were on their way to the hospital.

The nurses in the emergency room steered Frannie to an exam room the minute they walked in. Frannie didn’t even hesitate as she carried the infant down the hall. A doctor walked toward him, explaining that he had spoken with Jack’s doctor and that he’d be examining Alexa.

He nodded. He was dying to be back there with them, but first he had to stop at the desk and give them his insurance information.

As soon as possible, he joined Frannie in the exam room. She stood against a wall, arms folded tightly over her chest, as a doctor and nurse bent over Alexa, who was shrieking and screaming on the table. Without speaking, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Just that simple action was comforting. He didn’t feel so alone, or so terrified.

They had a diagnosis in under ten minutes. Alexa had whopping infections in both ears.

He felt like the lowest of the low as the doctor handed him a prescription. “We’ve given her a little medication to bring that fever down and knock out the pain. Once that takes effect and I’m satisfied the fever’s on its way out, you can take her home. Right now, you could go and have this filled. There’s an all-night pharmacy right across the street. Your wife can stay with the little one.”

He caught Frannie’s startled glance out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t even bother to correct the guy. If she really was his wife, they probably wouldn’t be here right now. She would have known Lex’s personality change wasn’t sheer contrariness, but a sign of illness. She would know about diaper rash and when to start solids, about shot schedules and growth curves and developmental delays... all the stuff he’d been reading about in the few spare moments he’d had since he became Alexa’s father by default.

If he were to marry again, not that he was considering the idea, Frannie would be the type of woman he’d choose, he thought as he waited for the pharmacist to fill the prescription. She loved Alexa, and she knew stuff about raising kids that he’d never even heard of. Their sex life would be fantastic. At the mere thought, his body went on full alert—and he did mean full alert, he thought ruefully, so that he had to turn hastily and examine the display of literature on the wall near the pharmacy. If he wasn’t careful, the lady pharmacist was liable to have him arrested as some kind of pervert who got off reading medical pamphlets.

So enough about what it would be like to sleep with Frannie every night. Even the idea of falling asleep with her snuggled close against him was appealing.

Forget it. Wanting to be close was what got you in trouble the last time, dope. Why would you want to set yourself up to get shot down again?

The answer was simple: he wouldn’t.

With prescription in hand, he jogged back across the street and into the emergency department. Seeing him, the girl at the desk smiled warmly and stood. “I think they’re ready to go.” She disappeared, and in a few minutes Frannie came out through the swinging doors from the E.R.’s interior, carrying Alexa.

He held up the bag to show Frannie he’d gotten the medicine, suddenly feeling incredibly weary. Alexa wasn’t screaming anymore, but the sound of her pained cry would haunt him for a long time. Why in the world hadn’t he realized she was hurting? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to be a parent, even a half-decent one. Which, no doubt, was what Frannie would say.




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