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Strictly Temporary
Robyn Grady
‘This child isn’t mine.’ Discovering an abandoned baby in the back seat of a taxi is not on hotelier Zack Harrison’s agenda. Luckily, a stunning stranger comes to his aid – and piques his interest… Next thing Zack knows, a snowstorm has stranded the trio in his luxurious Colorado cabin.Trinity Matthews wants to resist Zack’s advances, but his care and concern for her and the baby soon have her melting. As the snow falls and the heat sizzles it’s not long before Trinity’s sleeping in his bed. And she finds herself wondering if their temporary arrangement could have permanent effects…‘Robyn’s ability to weave romance and drama together never fails to deliver. Fantastic book!’ – Anna, Account Manager, Tamworth



“This snow’s not letting up. If we’re going back into town we need to go now.”
“My cabin’s a short drive from here,” he said. “Don’t know about you, but I’d rather dance naked in that snow than be stuck in a cab when she wakes up crying.”
The baby squeaked again, louder this time. Then her nose wrinkled before she settled fitfully. Trinity pressed her lips together for a moment, and then her hold on the seatbelt eased.
“All right. We’ll go to your place.”
Wasting no time, Zack tapped the driver’s shoulder and the cab pulled carefully out of the snow-clogged drive.
Despite her stand, his instinct said she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Could be interesting getting to know her a little better.
Gazing out the window, Zack slowly smiled.
Who was he kidding? Truth was he’d like to get to know Ms. Matthews and her attitude a whole lot more….

About the Author
One Christmas long ago ROBYN GRADY received a book from her big sister and immediately fell in love with Cinderella. Sprinklings of magic, deepest wishes come true—she was hooked! Picturebooks with glass slippers later gave way to romance novels and, more recently, the real-life dream of writing for Mills & Boon.
After a fifteen-year career in television, Robyn met her own modern-day hero. They live on Australia’s Sunshine Coast with their three little princesses, two poodles, and a cat called Tinkie. She loves new shoes, worn jeans, lunches at Moffat Beach and hanging out with her friends on eHarlequin.
Learn about her latest releases at www.robyngrady.com, and don’t forget to say hi. She’d love to hear from you!

Recent titles by the same author:
THE WEDDING MUST GO ON
EVERY GIRL’S SECRET FANTASY
NAUGHTY NIGHTS IN THE MILLIONAIRE’S MANSION
DEVIL IN A DARK BLUE SUIT
Did you know these are also available as eBooks?Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Strictly
Temporary
Robyn Grady





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader
When my editor asked if I wanted to write a story about billionaires and babies, my answer was an emphatic, ‘You bet!’ Nothing brings out a big strong man’s vulnerabilities more than placing a tiny person in his uncompromising line of advance. And as I tossed around ideas for a storyline the ways to create and widen cracks in my hero’s armour began to grow.
My favourite kind of hero is in charge of his environment. He knows what he wants and how to get it on his terms. I began to scheme ways to place as many roadblocks in cool-and-collected Zack Harrison’s ‘environment’ as possible. First a much coveted business deal simply won’t come together. Then a freak snowstorm leaves Zack isolated with a baby who has materialised out of thin air. Finally there’s an incredibly sexy woman who not only disapproves of practically everything Zack stands for, but also manages to challenge his deepest beliefs. Check, check and check!
After a single day and two amazing nights, when these problems are finally cleared from his life, Zack barely recognises himself. This predicament—the unprecedented feelings Trinity Matthews and that abandoned baby have brought out in him—was all supposed to be STRICTLY TEMPORARY.
Please visit my website, www.robyngrady.com, for the latest on contests, releases and to link up on Twitter and my Facebook page.
Hope you enjoy the story!
Best wishes
Robyn
This story is dedicated to another gorgeous Zack.
Mission accomplished!
With much thanks to my wonderful editor, Shana Smith, for her continuing belief and support, as well as to Jessica Alvarez for her fabulous input.
Much appreciated, ladies!

One
Cool. Unruffled.
Nothing rattled Zack Harrison’s cage.
He viewed Denver’s unseasonal snowfall this afternoon as a picturesque bonus more than an inconvenience. Today’s setback with regard to his latest acquisition strike was another challenge, not a reason to rant. Achieving a goal should involve effort, Zack decided as he shrugged into his overcoat, thanked the concierge and collected his briefcase. He’d simply need to get more…inventive was the word.
However, his patience was sorely tested when it came to the press. Last month’s beat-up was nothing short of laughable. Apparently he was a fiend who left underprivileged families homeless in order to expand his evil empire. And what about that recent piece questioning his treatment of an ambitious actress he’d been seeing? Without exception he treated women with respect but, from the get-go, he and Ally had agreed upon “fun and casual,” not “if I don’t see a diamond ring, I’ll expose your darkest secret.” As if blackmail would work. Unlike his father and siblings, this Harrison didn’t give a rat’s behind what people thought.
But on this late-spring afternoon, as he strode from the hotel’s entrance, yanked open the waiting cab’s back passenger door and zipped inside the toasty cabin, Zack’s calm fled and he jumped back in his seat. He took a moment to adjust and study his unexpected company before leaning forward to tap the driver’s shoulder.
“Your last fare forgot something.”
The cabbie angled around. “A wallet?”
“No,” Zack said. “A baby.”
The other back door swung open. A cool rush whooshed inside along with a woman wearing a hooded cherry-red coat. She set a matching overnighter on her lap and promptly slapped the door shut against the howling drifts. Blowing warmth into her cupped hands, her attention shifted. Beneath the red hood, curious eyes the color of new violets slid from the infant car seat carrier up to Zack and back again.
He considered her face, those eyes, and his chest grew unusually warm. He hadn’t met this woman before and yet something in her glittering gaze had him wondering if he knew her. Perhaps he’d simply like to.
“I was in such a hurry, I didn’t see you get in,” she said, wrapping her manicured hands around the lip of her case. “Actually I couldn’t see much at all. Crazy, isn’t it? All this snow, I mean.”
A slow smile hooked one side of his mouth as Zack’s gaze drank her in. “Yeah,” he said. “Crazy.”
“It seems like the concierge called a cab ages ago. I walked to the curb to see if I could hail one down. I thought it might never come.”
Zack’s smile faded. He’d stolen her ride? When he’d checked out a few minutes ago, the front desk had organized a cab. Exiting the hotel’s foyer, he’d merely assumed.
He leaned forward again, spoke to the driver. He’d pick off this easier problem then take care of that other more complicated baby matter next.
“Are you answering a call?”
“Just back from dropping a fare at the airport.” The man behind the wheel pushed a maroon beret back on his brow before flicking on the meter. “Thought I’d swing in here and try my luck. No one’s going out in this weather ’less they have to.”
“The airport.” Red Riding Hood tipped forward, too. “That’s where I’m headed. I need to get back to New York for an interview first thing tomorrow. I’m a features writer for Story Magazine.” Her bright look said, You’ve heard of it, right?
Acting suitably informed and impressed despite his aversion, Zack nodded and said, “Of course,” a moment before she dragged back the hood. The shadow framing her face lifted and Zack forgot to breathe.
Other than her cheeks, which were flushed a healthy pink, her complexion was as flawless as porcelain. Her hair, a luxurious mane, rested like a sable mantle over two slim straight shoulders. Her violet eyes were so vibrant their light penetrated and illuminated places he hadn’t known existed.
He’d dated some beauties in his time, women who drew attention when they floated into a room and were comfortable exerting their power over the opposite sex. But Zack couldn’t recall having met a female whose company literally left him short on air, and not only because of something as superficial as looks. In the clear depths of her eyes…the poised yet innocent manner with which she listened and spoke…
Quite simply, this woman glowed.
After today’s unproductive meeting with the owner of this building he was ready to kick back and get home—home being the two-story private cabin he chilled at whenever he stopped in town. But the delectable Red was obviously in a hurry, eager to leave Denver and its freak weather behind. He’d be happy to play the gentleman and wait for another cab.
Which also meant she and the driver could work out between them what to do about this baby, who, thankfully, was still sound asleep.
Peaceful.
Zack looked harder.
Almost too peaceful. He had the damnedest urge to check each tiny finger curled over that wrap to make certain they were warm.
Red was peering at the baby, too. “I see you have a little one to worry about. She’s gorgeous.” She sighed then drew away. “I’ll ask the concierge to call and see where my cab is.”
As she turned to find her door’s handle, Zack’s muscles clenched and he caught her sleeve. Red couldn’t leave. She had it all wrong.
When her gaze hooked back—unsure, concerned—he released her arm and coughed out a hoarse laugh at the same time he glanced at the baby.
“This isn’t mine.”
The cabbie grunted. “Sure as heck ain’t mine.”
The woman blinked two sets of generous lashes and her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile but didn’t dare. “She looks a little young to travel alone.”
She. Zack had to ask.
“How do you know it’s a girl?” The carrier, blanket and bonnet were as white as the snow piling up on the sidewalk and road.
“Well, her face is so sweet.” Expression melting, Red curved the back of her hand over the baby’s bonneted crown and a tiny pair of lips pursed in and out as if she were dreaming about dinner. “Rosebud mouth,” Red went on. “Cute and tiny. She’s too pretty to be a boy.”
The driver drummed his thumbs on the wheel. “Meter’s running, folks.”
“Of course.” Gathering herself, Red pulled away. “I’ll let you go.”
For a second time that day, Zack’s calm evaporated. But now his mouth went completely dry, and sweat broke on the back of his neck. This afternoon was supposed to finish with a quiet brandy in front of a toasty fire, not tossing a hot potato like this around. He didn’t even like babies… . Or, more correctly, they didn’t like him.
“What are we supposed to do with her?” he asked.
“Not we, pal.” The cabbie slotted the shift into gear.
His voice deep, Zack spoke to the man who clearly wasn’t his “pal.” “I told you, she isn’t mine.”
Red slanted her head and a stream of sable spilled over one shoulder. “What’s she doing here then?”
“Beats me. Who’d you drop off last?” he asked the driver.
“An eighty-year-old man with a cane.” The cabbie slid his beret back again. “He was flying out to see family in Jersey, and he wasn’t carrying no bassinet.”
The cabbie’s expression said, Don’t know your game, son, but don’t try to dump your problems on me.
Zack growled. How many times did he have to say it? The baby wasn’t his! At least it seemed that Red believed him.
Her face had lost all color as if every drop of blood had rushed to her feet. Her question came out a struggled whisper as though she shouldn’t speak the words too loud for fear they might be true.
“Do you think someone abandoned her?”
“Guess the authorities will have to figure that out.”
Zack didn’t like the situation—not a bit. He knew less than zip about babies and had every intention of keeping it that way. Marriage and its inevitable complications were the furthest things from his mind. But, in this matter…
Ah, hell, what choice did he have? Red was in a legitimate hurry and—no getting around it—he had been the one to make the find. Either the guy behind the wheel could outact Tom Hanks or he sincerely had no clue. God only knew how a baby could end up alone in the backseat of a cab.
Zack’s gaze roamed the small sleeping form, those rosebud lips, that button nose, and his heart swelled and dropped. Some things you simply couldn’t shrug off.
After flexing his fingers, he slid a firm grip around the unharnessed car seat’s handle.
“I’ll bring her to the police station.” His voice was hushed now. He didn’t want to wake her and maybe have her cry. “They can call Child Services.”
“But they could take ages to collect her.”
“I only know a baby doesn’t sleep forever and I don’t carry spare diapers around in my breast pocket.”
Red quietly searched around the foot of the blanket. “There’s a bottle here,” she said, “some formula and a few diapers, too.”
“The officers at the local precinct will be most appreciative.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’ll be eternally grateful.”
Zack narrowed his eyes at her. What was she after? He was a businessman, for Pete’s sake, not a babysitter—no matter how cute the kid.
The driver adjusted his rearview mirror. “Should I drop you two lovebirds off at a café so you can nut this out?”
“We’re not lovebirds.” Zack gripped the carrier’s handle more tightly while Red held his gaze for an interminably long moment before surprising him yet again. Her slim nostrils flared, her delicate chin lifted a notch.
Then she reached out and her hand closed over his.
The sensation of her palm pressing, fingers brushing, sent his thoughts and pulse leaping. In an instant he became intensely aware of her scent, subtle and citrus, and the fact that her left hand bore no rings. The idea she might be unattached—available—hijacked and toyed with his mind.
When her fingers moved enough to scoop beneath his, her nails teased his palm and a jet of heat, like the initial burst of a flame, licked a hot path through his veins. Pleasant. Tempting. His runaway thoughts bubbled with all kinds of possibilities that had nothing to do with a baby, except, perhaps, the making of one.
“You go on,” she said as her fingers wrapped around the carrier’s handle and his reluctantly eased away. “I’ll take her back inside with me. I can’t stand to think of her waiting in a police station. Who knows what types might be lurking around.”
Zack opened his mouth to argue. Red had a flight to catch. But in truth he couldn’t disagree about the police station; not the best environment for an infant who’d need attention once she woke. And the instinct that rarely failed him said this woman was competent and trustworthy. The baby would be in good hands until the proper authorities stepped in. After that…
At the twinge beneath his ribs, Zack set his jaw and squared his shoulders.
After that, no doubt the mother would show up, all teary but relieved, and the family would have a good story to share at the kid’s twenty-first.
But, for now, Red needed a hand to battle the snow and get them both inside.
He shifted. “I’ll help you back in.”
“No need.”
Before he could insist, she’d opened her door. Standing with her overnight case in one hand, she waved in the direction of the hotel entrance with the other. Zack glanced out the back window. Through swirls of snow, a uniformed bellman was striding over, monster umbrella fending off the inclement weather.
James Dirkins, the current owner of this hotel, had refused his first offer on behalf of Harrison Hotels, but at this moment Zack was more determined than ever. When he snared the deal, bought this hotel, his first priority would be to cover that forecourt. Such a basic thing. No wonder occupancy was down.
After handing her luggage to the bellman, Red slid out the carrier. She had the good grace to flash a quick smile goodbye before the bellman shut the door and Zack watched them shrink then vanish into the white.
“So, you going to the airport, pal?”
Gaze still on the drifts, Zack murmured, “A private address.”
“You want me to guess?”
But Zack wasn’t listening.
Red…
He didn’t even know her name.
“You could buy your own cab the way the meter’s clicking over,” the driver said. “Not that I’ll complain.”
Zack’s ears pricked, his stomach jumped and he sat straighter. Was that the wind he heard gusting outside or a baby’s cry?
Squeezing his eyes shut, he counted to three but, wouldn’t you know, the urge only grew. Wasn’t often Zack Harrison felt cornered. Beaten. But now he groaned, whipped out his wallet, dropped a bill over onto the front seat and told the driver, “Wait here. As long as it takes. I’ll be back.”
Trinity Matthews knew precisely what she’d gotten herself into.
Hours of waiting—and worrying—in a city where she knew no one; the naturopath she’d met and interviewed today for Story didn’t count. And yet as she moved over the polished marble floor, heading for the hotel’s sweeping timber reception desk with the baby carrier weighing on her arm, Trinity couldn’t regret her decision.
Child Services did their best, but lines were long and resources low. At one time, she’d applied for a job in the department but personal experience with the system, as well as insight into herself, said she’d never cut it. So many neglected or abandoned children…She’d want to take home every one.
Glancing down, Trinity studied the sleeping baby and raw emotion gripped and thickened in her throat. Nobody asked to be tossed away. Nobody deserved to be, certainly not this little angel. If, in fact, abandonment were the case.
The echoing slap of footfalls on marble came from behind. Trinity pivoted around. The man from the cab—the one with those incredible midnight eyes, that velvet smooth baritone and a smile that seemed strangely familiar—was jogging up toward her, dodging patrons and hotel staff, overcoat tails flapping behind. As he pulled up, a lock of dark hair fell over his brow and his broad shoulders rolled back as he drew in a deep breath. For a moment, Trinity felt a little out of breath herself. From head to foot, and everywhere in between, what an outstanding example of the male species. And there it was again…that niggle that whispered she knew him.
And maybe shouldn’t trust him.
Then he introduced himself and the pieces of that puzzle all fell magically into place.
“I forgot to introduce myself,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Zackery Harrison.”
Trinity’s eyes widened at the same time her stomach muscles clutched. Of course! Standing in the brighter light, who could dispute that dynamite build, the Hollywood looks, that authoritative air? In person, Mr. Harrison was indeed criminally sexy. From all she’d read, Trinity also knew he was a greedy, self-serving jerk.
But she wouldn’t call him out on that here, now. This was neither the place nor time to give Mr. Harrison a piece of her mind. Siphoning in a settling breath, she schooled her features and introduced herself.
“I’m Trinity Matthews.”
“Ms. Matthews,” he said, looking as commanding as he did in his numerous celebrity shots, whether appearing barechested on his yacht or looking sophisticated and invincible in a tailored suit and tie. “I’ve given this situation more thought and I want to help.”
Studying his charitable expression, she asked the obvious.
“Why?”
Wariness flickered in his eyes before he smiled again. “Because I have some spare time and you need to get back to New York.”
Trinity took in his intoxicating grin, white and inviting—the same smile that had reached out to intrigue her earlier in the cab. The same look that had seduced some of the country’s most beautiful women and persuaded officials to trade people’s homes for commercial profits. Her blood boiled to even think of self-serving, money-hungry corporate studs like Zack Harrison when so many people did without.
Which led back to the little person who needed her help now.
Whom did this baby belong to? What was her story? Trinity couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to cast her aside. She was so perfect. So beautiful.
“I’ll catch a later flight,” she told Harrison. “I might not be a world expert where caring for new babies is concerned, but chances are I know more than you.”
Weren’t women supposed to be instinctive about maternal matters like feeding and soothing? Of course, Trinity knew better than most there were exceptions.
When Zackery Harrison crossed his arms, a subtle cue to have her capitulate and be on her way back to New York, Trinity set down the carrier and crossed her arms, too.
“I’m not leaving,” she told him, “until I know she’s okay.”
“I have a place not far from here—”
“I said no.”
Babies needed constant care and attention. Love. She wasn’t certain Harrison even had a heart.
“My neighbors keep an eye on my place when I’m away,” he pushed on. “Mrs. Dale is a spritely grandmother of ten. She doesn’t like today’s music or grasshoppers, particularly when her dianthuses are in bloom. But she adores babies. She used to be a foster mom.”
Trinity suppressed a shudder. Despite her personal experience, certainly there must be a ton of fabulous ones. Still, she couldn’t help her reflex reaction. For years the term “foster mom” had been interchangeable with “monster mom,” aka Nasty Nora Earnshaw, her own foster mother.
“Mrs. Dale ran her own home child-care business not so long ago,” he went on. “Still has all the gear—high chairs, playpens. I know she’d be happy to help.” His dark eyes glittered. “You don’t want to miss your interview.”
Trinity’s fists unclenched.
Her job meant more to her than anything. It gave her the chance to travel and meet so many interesting and inspirational people. Individuals who touched others’ lives in so many ways. After living in a small Ohio town most of her life, she loved working in New York. She’d made friends there. Had made herself a life.
Her profession was a fiercely competitive one. In these tough times, positions were hard to come by. With three coworkers laid off last week due to more budget cuts, she couldn’t afford to rock the boat. But then there was this baby.
While patrons and hotel staff moved around them, going about their business, Trinity looked down again and her heart squeezed.
She didn’t trust Zack Harrison. How much did he truly know about this neighbor of his, Mrs. Dale? Trinity’s foster mother had given off a caring would-die-for-these-children impression, too. All a big fat lie.
“How can you be sure this miracle neighbor of yours will be in?” she asked.
“The Dales are homebodies. I’ve been in town a few days. When I passed by this morning, just before the snow began to fall, Mrs. D was hurrying inside her gate, back from taking one of her grandkids for a walk in the stroller.”
Nibbling her lower lip, Trinity glanced around the busy foyer…at the helpful receptionist, the bellboy waiting patiently nearby, the concierge at his desk looking ready at a moment to rush over and help.
She made her decision.
“We’re staying here. It’s a good hotel. Great staff—”
“This baby’s better off with someone who knows about children.”
His voice held a warning note—low and deep—but he didn’t look annoyed, merely determined. And, damn it, didn’t he have a point? They’d already established they had no idea how long the authorities would take getting out. And if she put her own past experience and suspicions aside, Mrs. Dale could be precisely what this baby needed at this uncertain point in time. To be fair, how much of her reluctance was about what was best for the baby and how much about her own issues and personal dislike for Mr. Harrison?
Trinity gazed down at the baby, still sleeping soundly, and finally relented.
“Okay.” She nodded. “We’ll go.”
“We?”
“I need to see her settled before…” Trinity shut down an image of the baby being taken away to God knows where, for however long, and ended by saying, “Before I leave.”
Zack Harrison’s features were angled in a strong, classical kind of way. His coal-fringed eyes reflected a character that was both comfortable with himself as well as with others, but they were also hypervigilant. Watchful while somehow resigned—the mark of a man who wielded power and was content in the knowledge that he was indeed a force.
Self-assured. Unapologetically so. But now Trinity saw another emotion shifting in his gaze.
Was it respect?
“In that case,” he said, “we’d better go before our cabbie turns traitor and takes another fare.”
At the same time he moved to claim the carrier’s handle, so did she. When their hands met, skin against skin, heat on human heat, Trinity felt her face flush as her blood reacted and raced. With that lock of hair hanging over his brow, Zack looked across and grinned at her. Getting her rabid hormones under control, Trinity straightened.
“Before we go, I think it’s only fair I admit that I know who you are.”
His chin lifted. “I told you who I was.”
“I read like everyone else, Mr. Harrison. You help run your family’s hotel chain. You do whatever it takes to get whatever you want—” She hesitated but couldn’t hold it back. “And you pride yourself on seducing beautiful women.”
The grin froze on his face. “You subscribe to my fan club.”
“Just so you understand—I’m agreeing to this only because I believe it’s the best option for that baby.”
“Not because I’m ruthless and irresistible?”
Her heart jumped and she fought the urge to lick suddenly dry lips.
“Definitely not because of that.”
He seemed to loom closer, look hotter, as his eyes glittered, penetrating hers. “Well, now you have that out the way, we should go. Unless…”
Her antennae quivered. “Unless what?”
“We get this out of the way now.”
“Get what out the way?”
“I thought you might want to kick my shin, slap my face. Pull my nose.”
The tension locking her shoulders eased. She’d thought for a moment…Oh, but that was ridiculous.
“I’ll try to restrain myself,” she said.
He looked at her sideways as if he might be able to glimpse a well-hidden piece of her soul. “Ms. Matthews, you didn’t think I was going to do something wholly in character, like take you in my arms and kiss you? Maybe even ravage you?”
Her cheeks caught light. The man was outrageous! “Of course not.”
“I’m such a beast. How can you be sure?”
“I’m hardly your type,” she pointed out. “Even if I were, after these last few weeks of less than glowing publicity, you couldn’t possibly want to draw attention to yet another incident.” She slid a confident glance around the busy area. “We’re out in the open. Everyone has cell phones and every cell phone has a camera.”
Mr. Harrison’s eyes lost their spark. His gaze turned dark, almost predatory.
“You think I care about gossip?”
“No. I don’t.” She cocked her head. “But maybe you should.”
That devilish smile twitched and spread again.
“You’re right. Maybe I should.” He stepped unforgivably close while his gaze held her unforgettably still. “And maybe I should give the world something to really talk about.”

Two
Zack slanted his head closer to Trinity Matthews’s stunned violet-colored eyes and almost forgot that he’d been teasing. Making her pay.
She didn’t know him from a lump of wood. What a laugh that she should make assumptions based on the tripe gossipmongers served up—and how typical. After all, she was one of them—a reporter for some rag-or-other he’d never heard of before today. Most publications shared a common code, turning a castaway line or suggestive photo into a sensation that had nothing to do with the truth and everything to do with building numbers and keeping their parasitic jobs.
Still, he was a good sport. He wouldn’t hold any of that against Ms. Matthews, particularly when she was so darn cute all fired up, blushing and battling her conscience. Would she make a scene if he did the unimaginable and kissed her, or would she melt into his embrace and maybe make the front page herself?
Sorely tempted, his head dropped lower, but at the last moment, his trajectory veered and his attention fell again to the baby. He collected the carrier and headed for the hotel exit. A few seconds later, Trinity Matthews’s heels were clicking double-time behind him.
Outside, from a gray Colorado sky buttressed by mountains, the snow was falling faster. When they were all safely back in the cab, Zack called Child Services on his cell while the meter ticked and Trinity watched the baby. Finally he spoke with a woman who asked for his number and address then said a representative would get back to him as soon as possible. She also said it was her obligation to inform the police of all details, including his. Perfect. Saved him.
As he ended the call, in hushed tones, Trinity asked, “What’d they say?”
“They’ll get back to us.”
“When?”
“When they can.” Soon, he hoped. He slotted the cell away. “In the meantime, we’ll pick up some spare diapers and head over to Mrs. Dale’s.”
When the authorities took away the baby, he’d pay for Trinity’s return fare to the airport. With this good deed done and out of the way, he’d get to sipping that brandy before a toasty log fire. Zack was in half a mind to ask whether Trinity might like to join him, if only to see whether she’d leap at the chance to dress him down or betray her morality for curiosity and accept.
They stopped at a drugstore. The baby was still asleep when Zack returned to load the trunk with two bags of diapers, as well as wipes, additional formula, bottles and three small undershirts and one-piece outfits. As Zack well knew, in any venture, preparedness was the key. Besides, the pink suit had tiny ears on the hood like a cat or bear. Who could pass that up?
The baby was still pushing out pint-size z’s when half an hour later the cab swerved into his neighbors’ long driveway.
Dusk had fallen over the peaceful, largely unpopulated district, which was bordered by giant firs, their branches burdened with the weight of new snow. A lonely streetlamp cast an eerie glow over the wintery ground but no light shone from the Dales’ place. In fact, for the first time Zack could recall, that house appeared quite still.
Deserted.
Trinity was peering out the foggy window, too.
“No one’s home.” Studying the surrounding woods, she sat back and hugged herself. “We should have stayed at the hotel. Do you even get cell reception out this far?”
“If you’re heading back in, you’d want to be quick about it.” The driver upped the wiper speed and blades thrashed triple-time across the icy screen. “This is turning into a storm.”
Fingers threaded on his lap, Zack thought for a moment then gave the driver instructions. “Continue on, a hundred yards down on your right.”
“Hang on just a minute.” Trinity clutched her seat belt like it was the only parachute on a plane going down. “Did you hear what he said? This snow’s not letting up. If we’re going back into town, we need to go now.”
“The authorities have my details. They know where we’re headed. We’ll stay put until they get back to us.”
In the growing shadows, her eyes flashed and those kissable lips tightened. She shook her head. “We’re going back.”
“Not an option.”
“Why not?”
“You mean aside from being smart and staying out of this weather?”
He paused long enough to draw attention to wind gusting and whistling outside. When Mother Nature spoke, people did best to listen. Besides, he refused to set foot inside that hotel again until Dirkins had sufficient time to sweat over his offer. If he checked in tonight, the owner of that hotel would assume Zack had weakened and was prepared to sweeten the offer he’d made. That wasn’t the case, no matter how much Zack sympathized with Dirkins’s personal situation. A death in the family was never easy, particularly, he imagined, when it involved an only son.
The baby shifted. A tiny fist curled into the blanket. Zack held his breath while she yawned, stretched and squeaked at the same time a frown pinched her flawless brow.
He growled. That did it.
“My cabin’s a minute’s drive from here,” he said. “Don’t know about you, but I’d rather dance naked in that snow than be stuck in a cab when she wakes up crying.”
The baby squeaked again, louder this time. Then her nose wrinkled before she settled fitfully again. Trinity pressed her lips together for a considering moment before her hold on the seat belt eased and reluctantly fell away.
“All right. We’ll go to your place.”
Wasting no time, Zack tapped the driver’s shoulder and the cab pulled carefully out of the Dales’ snow-clogged driveway. After the baby was put down again later, before the authorities arrived, he and Ms. Matthews could take time to reflect on the decisions they’d made, perhaps while sitting in front of a crackling fire with that brandy that felt so close now, he could almost taste it.
Despite her stand, animal instinct said she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Could be interesting getting to know her a little better.
Gazing out the window, Zack slowly smiled.
Who was he kidding? Truth was that he’d like to get to know Ms. Matthews, and her attitude, a whole lot more.
At the same time the cab rolled away from Zack Harrison’s address, the full moon peeked out from beneath its heavy blanket of cloud. As a silvery glow illuminated the scene, Trinity could barely stop from gasping and rubbing to clear her eyes.
This was a cabin?
Zack, with the carrier and bags of baby supplies, was already striding through the drifts on his way to the covered entrance of the spectacular A-frame home. Flopping her coat’s hood over her head, Trinity gripped her case and hurried after him. He pushed back the large timber door, flicked on a light and she stepped through into central-heated heaven. Marveling over her new surroundings, she blindly set her case on the hardwood floor.
The lower story was huge and open plan, various details of which hinted at exceptional wealth as well as a rustic homey welcome. To the right, the kitchen area was elevated one step and dressed in soaring polished oak with shining granite trimmings. At the far end of the room, a state-of-the-art media section was laid out before sumptuous connected leather recliners. In the center of a massive slate wall, a significant stone fireplace begged to be lit and have marshmallows toasted over gentle flames. A hallway off the foyer would lead to bedrooms, Trinity decided. As she drew back her hood, her gaze climbed a loft staircase that led to a mezzanine floor encased by carved timber rails.
Zack’s husky words brushed her ear as he passed and explained, “The main bedroom.”
She quivered. Main bedroom. His bedroom. A whirlpool of images swam up in her mind, the most vivid: Zack Harrison relaxing back against a strong, wooden headboard, rumpled sheet draped over lean hips, hard broad chest shamelessly on display, his expression self-assured…roguish and hot.
Hauling herself back, Trinity caught her breath. She wasn’t here to fantasize about sleeping with a man who’d made sexual seduction his favorite personal pastime. Obviously she wasn’t the only female he affected this way. The media spotted a new besotted squeeze on his arm every other month. But dwelling on his charisma—on that blatant sex appeal—had no place here, particularly when she’d made a fool of herself earlier at the hotel. She’d practically dissolved when she’d thought he might kiss her. Her skin flashed hot just thinking how he must have laughed when, eyelids growing heavy, she’d visibly trembled.
But he wouldn’t catch her out again.
While Zack gently set down the carrier and supplies then maneuvered out of his overcoat, Trinity chased the butterflies from her stomach, slipped out of her coat as well then offered a neutral, totally honest statement.
“Your home is beautiful.”
“I don’t spend a lot of time here,” he said, peeling back the carrier’s light blanket, which had acted as a shield for the baby against the falling snow. “I hail from New York, like you. But you already know that.”
She ignored his mischievous, pointed look and continued to study the room. “So this is a getaway?”
“My dad used to spend all his time at the office. To make it up to us, we’d always pack up and head off to Colorado for a break during snow season.” He set his coat on the nearby rack, hung hers, too, then shucked out of his suit jacket before hooking that as well. “When I was older, I kept traveling out and found this area. We’ve got some amazing scenery. Nice people, too—the kind who are never too busy to nod and say hello when you pass on the street. I figured I might as well have a place on hand.”
“But you don’t have a vehicle in the garage?” Or there’d be no need for a cab.
“Engines like to be turned over regularly, so it’s easier to rent something. When I flew in this time, there’d been a mixup with the rental information. I don’t exactly fit inside a bubble car.” He gave his impressive shoulders an awkward roll to make his point then threw a glance toward the kitchen and collected the baby carrier again. “I’ll put on some coffee. We can get her bottle set up while it brews.”
Trinity knew she was stepping on dangerous ground but she couldn’t keep her gaze off the impressive ledge of his shoulders in that white business shirt as she followed him into a large kitchen. The way his well-spaced shoulder blades moved in tandem with his purposeful, measured stride was enough to make her fingers itch to reach out and touch. In these more intimate surroundings—now they were alone—Zack’s presence was a step away from spellbinding. Not that he’d need anyone to tell him that. She certainly didn’t need to dwell on it a moment more.
And yet, as he set the carrier gently down again, wrung loose his tie and studied the baby—brow lined and dark eyes concerned—Trinity was more aware than ever of her physical reaction to his air of authority. His aura of masculine supremacy. That awareness made her flush from head to foot and everywhere in between. The reports were all true.
Zack Harrison must be the sexiest man alive.
“Should we sterilize something?”
Trinity dragged her focus away from the sweep of his full bottom lip then registered and answered his question.
“Yes. Absolutely. A bottle.” Stepping forward, she crouched beside the carrier and examined the baby who, after earlier noises, appeared to have settled again. “I’ll find the directions for the formula.”
Carefully she slipped the bottle and formula canister out from where they rested at the foot of the carrier. Zack found a saucepan while she deciphered the formula’s directions…although her attention wasn’t entirely on the job.
Whistling a vaguely familiar tune while finding a coffeepot, Zack seemed at home here in this setting. And yet he spent most of his time in New York. Did he live in a Chelsea condo or a penthouse on Central Park West? Or was it the presidential suite of a family hotel? Hell, probably every Harrison came home to their very own multimillion-dollar penthouse.
“What’s it like?” she asked, setting the formula down.
His back to her, Zack collected mugs from an overhead cabinet. “What’s what like?”
“Owning all that real estate.” Pimping it out only to those who can afford the exorbitant rates.
“I don’t own Harrison Hotels exclusively.” He pulled one end of his tie. With a zipping sound, the expensive strip of blue silk slid out and dropped in an abstract coil on the counter. “It’s a family business.”
“So you work every day with your parents and siblings?”
She’d always wanted sisters—or rather ones who would stay in her life rather than being moved on to another foster home after they’d become close. After a while, she’d given up wishing and hoping.
For a time, in between “then” and “now,” she’d dreamed of having a family all her own, with a caring husband who would always stand by her, and at least one baby, but preferably two. She’d even picked out names. But over the years her plans had changed.
Zack was answering her question about siblings.
“We have our good days. We’re like-minded in many respects.” He found sugar then milk from a fridge that housed its own high-definition TV. “We’re different in other ways, though. How about you? Do you have family?”
A familiar jab poked her ribs. It was one thing to sometimes think about what she’d once hoped for more than anything in the world. For anyone to ask her outright about whether or not she had any kind of family was quite another.
Trinity focused back on the formula. “Oh, nothing like that,” she said in a remarkably even voice.
“Like what?”
“Like your family. Like…blood.”
Not much of an answer but normally she didn’t like to think about it let alone talk about her past. She definitely wasn’t out to garner anyone’s pity, particularly Zack-I-have-it-all-Harrison. Besides, the past was well behind her. What purpose would bringing it up here serve?
But then, peeling back the formula’s lid, her gaze wandered again to the baby. Her throat closed over and for the first time in a long while she rethought that stand. From as far back as she could recall she’d been a private person. But wasn’t this situation unique? No matter what she thought of his public image, Zack Harrison had given his time and opened up his house, not only to this baby but to her as well. Maybe this once she could share.
“Actually,” she said, her heart beginning to pound, “I was a ward of the state.”
She glanced over her shoulder. About to lift the coffeepot, Zack froze. His focus shifted to the carrier then skated over to her. His gaze penetrated hers so deeply she almost regretted opening her mouth. She wasn’t a freak, just one of many ex-foster kids.
“That’s why…” he began and she nodded.
“That’s one of the reasons why I couldn’t walk away.”
He exhaled a long breath then poured steaming coffee that smelled both bitter and comforting. When both mugs were full, he met her gaze again. The surprise was gone from his eyes, but she wasn’t much happier with the sympathy drawing on the corners of his mouth.
“Did you have a rough time?”
Her smile was thin. “Not everyone can land a Mrs. Dale.”
“But you made good. All these years later working for—”
His brows knitting, he crossed over and handed her a mug while she contained a grin. She’d gleaned from his polite but vacant look earlier in the cab that he’d never heard of the publication.
“I work for Story Magazine.”
“Ah, yes. Story.”
He took a long pull from his mug. She did the same, and almost sighed, the heat and flavor were so good. But while she concentrated on warming her palms, she felt his gaze tracing over the lines of her face.
“Ever interview a successful hotelier who rescues babies as a sideline?” he asked.
Meeting his midnight gaze, she cocked her head and pretended to be intrigued, which, in truth, she was. “Can’t say I have.”
“If you play your cards right, I could be available for questions later.”
“I have a question for you now.”
“I’m all ears.”
She had the darnedest urge to say, When you came so close in that hotel foyer earlier, was it because you really wanted to kiss me or because you wanted to put me in my place?
Of course, she swallowed the urge, retacked her neutral smile and asked instead, “Can I have some sugar?”
He slowly smiled. “You can have anything you want.”
He brought over the sugar bowl. She heaped in a good spoonful and took her time stirring. Leaning around her, he set the sugar bowl on the counter. His arm brushed hers as he tipped back but, although her stomach jumped, she gave no outward sign of how high her pulse had skipped. Rather, she dropped her focus to the baby again, taking in the healthy glow, the plump pink cheeks.
Attention on the baby now, too, Zack asked, “How old do you reckon she’d be?”
“Maybe three months. She looks well cared for.”
“It doesn’t make sense her being left alone like that. There has to be more to it.”
An idea struck and a chill crawled up her spine. “Maybe she was abducted.” It happened, and more than some people might think. Stories that made the news were only the tip of the iceberg. “Perhaps they’d planned a ransom and got cold feet at the last minute.”
His voice was low and patient.
“Is that what happened to you?”
How she found herself in foster care? She shook her head but didn’t feel a need to explain more. A man in Zack’s situation, obviously so involved with his own family and position, couldn’t possibly understand.
The baby gave a squeak. Then she squirmed and blinked open sleepy eyes. Both Zack and Trinity bent over the carrier while the baby yawned and tried to focus. Trinity’s entire body flooded with a warmth she hadn’t known existed—powerful yet soft and syrupy all at the same time.
“Her eyes are blue,” she whispered.
“Do you think she’s hungry?”
As if to answer, the baby let out a whimper, and another. When Zack hesitated, Trinity took control and folded back the blanket. By the time the harness was unclipped and the baby was out of the carrier, whimpers had grown to little sobs. Her heart tugging low in her chest, Trinity held the baby close. She was heavier than she expected but also easier to hold.
“Poor darling,” she murmured against the velvet of that tiny cheek. “She must be wet. I’ll take care of that. Can you handle the bottle?”
“Sure. No problem.” He cast a tentative look at the canister. “You, uh, said there were directions?”
“On the side. Or do you want dibs on first diaper duty?”
He took a long step back. “I’ll have the bottle ready when you come out.”
She was shown to a downstairs bedroom with an attached bath. After she laid the baby on the bed and Zack set down a plastic bag of supplies, Trinity left to find a towel from the bath. Changing diapers could be a messy business; she didn’t want to leave the bedspread soiled. Returning, she noticed a silhouette lurking in the shadows of the bedroom doorway. Zack.
“I wanted to make sure the baby didn’t roll off the bed,” he said.
“At three months or younger, she’s too young to roll.”
Even if she were four months, she wouldn’t be able to roll more than once, and from her tummy to her back, not the other way around. She’d learned that when Nora Earnshaw had cared for an infant for a short time. A seven-year-old Trinity had spent all her spare time with that child. When the baby was taken away suddenly one day, she’d been so heartbroken and lonely; she’d barely eaten for weeks. The only saving grace was that the baby’s new foster home had to be better than Nora’s house. Maybe he’d even been adopted by a couple who never let him cry.
Zack smoothed a hand through his coal-black hair. “Then I guess I’ll get that bottle underway.”
Smiling to herself, Trinity watched him disappear then bent over to touch the sniffling baby’s forehead with her own. To think a big, bossy man like Zack Harrison standing all the way back there. Anyone would think he was afraid of holding this little cherub, of bringing her close, whereas any person in their right mind would find it hard to let her go.
Ten minutes later, Trinity emerged from the bedroom feeling most pleased with herself. The baby wore a fresh diaper as well as an intent, curious expression in her gorgeous robin’s-egg-blue eyes as if she wanted to thank this strange woman but didn’t know how. In the kitchen, his cuffs folded back, Zack was busy shaking a full bottle over his wrist. The image was so incredibly sexy, as well as rather funny and tender, something unfamiliar shifted inside and Trinity cradled the baby all the closer. Did all men look slightly awkward yet undeniably hot when performing this kind of domestic feat? Zack was so focused on his task he hadn’t noticed the liquid spraying on his previously immaculate hardwood floor. Talk about single-minded.
“Milk stains, you know,” she said, crossing over.
His dark eyes flashed as he glanced up then down at the formula sprayed on the floor and his shoes. Grunting, he dropped a nearby dishcloth. Keeping a firm hold on the bottle, he rubbed the cloth over the damp area with a foot.
“The temperature needed checking.”
“If you’d kept going,” she teased, “there wouldn’t be anything left in the bottle.”
With a lopsided smile that did bone-melting things to her pulse, he held the bottle high.
“I’m happy to report the beverage is well mixed and—if I do say so myself—perfectly warmed.”
“In that case…” She made to hand over the baby. “Would you care to do the honors?”
His smug smile vanished. “I’ll take the next shift.”
“She won’t bite.”
“How do you know?”
Trinity wondered what he’d do if she plunked the baby in his arms and told him to handle it. If she’d let him tell her what to do, she’d have been on her way back to New York and he’d be here all alone with an infant to care for. Lucky for him she wasn’t a pushover.
Trinity headed for the open plan area. “I’ll need a seat.”
As he overtook her, a hot palm grazed the small of her back and that unfamiliar feeling filled her middle again, spreading heat up toward her chest and throat. For a mindless moment, she held on to the feeling before dragging herself back. Given Zack’s lack of confidence in this area, it was up to her to stay on top of things.
Wouldn’t this make a great story. Hotelier Magnate Admits To Failings.
Stopping at the dining table, Zack held out a carved wooden chair and, with a flourish, indicated she should sit. Trinity studied the chair’s upright back and wrinkled her nose.
“Maybe something a little more comfortable.”
Frowning, he pushed the chair back in. Next she was shown to one of those sumptuous white leather recliners. Feeling as if she were descending into a cloud, she seated herself. A lever on the recliner’s side was lifted, a footrest whirred out and her legs rose until they were near horizontal. Zack couldn’t have looked prouder if he’d single-handedly closed down a community hall to build yet another skyscraper—which he had just last month.
Finding the baby, accompanying Zack Harrison into the middle of nowhere—this entire evening had been surreal. But reclining here with Zack looming closer left her feeling more than a little edgy. And curious. The media was awash with shots of his recent breakup with starlet Ally Monroe. So who was Zack seeing at the moment? Did he feel any guilt over business decisions that had hurt ordinary Americans? Was he as good in bed as the world envisioned him to be?
After meeting him, she’d wager he was even better. Any woman with half her quota of hormones would sizzle in his presence. Girls had probably mooned over him since middle school.
Zack was standing, legs braced, hands low on his hips. “What else do you need?”
She brought her focus back to the baby, who was peering up, a tiny frown pinching her brow while four little fingers wiggled above the turn of her wrap. “Can I have a hand towel? Something to mop up any excess?”
He handed over the bottle and she watched him stride away, drinking in the way his long, solid legs worked to create such a smooth, fluid gait. A moment later, he handed over a towel and, standing back again, squared those impressive shoulders.
“Good luck,” he said in a mock-solemn tone that pried a smile from her lips.
“I’ll report back on casualties,” she replied, checking the measurements embossed on the bottle’s side before lowering the nipple.
Alert baby blues opened wider. In a heartbeat, the baby had latched on and was sucking like she hadn’t eaten in days. Trinity’s stomach knotted tight. How long had it been since her last feeding? Where was her mother? Child Services knew of the situation, but how long before this little sweetheart was taken away?
Of course, the mother might be off searching for her right now. If that were the case, Trinity hated to think of the agony that woman must be going through. Much like her own mother before—
“No one’s called back yet,” Zack said.
Trinity’s train of thought shifted back to the present. Zack was lifting a dining chair and setting it down beside her. Elbows on knees, he leaned forward and threaded his fingers. Trinity wondered why he didn’t take a seat on a recliner. Maybe he was more comfortable keeping that bit of distance.
“I wonder when the police will arrive,” she said, balancing the bottle in the V of her hand as the baby chugged.
“This weather’s probably holding them up. I’ll flick on the news channel soon to see if anything’s been reported. Maybe give them a call myself to make sure all the right info was passed on.” His gaze on the baby now, his chin tipped up and a shadow of a smile touched his lips. “You look like you’re an old hand at this.”
“She’s the one doing all the work.” And working at full steam!
Outside, the wind howled and, beyond a set of floor-to-ceiling French doors and windows, Trinity watched more snow fall while the baby settled down.
After a time, Zack shifted uneasily. “Shouldn’t she be burped sometime soon?”
“Bet you’ll look like an old hand at it.”
He sat slowly back. “On second thought, you’re doing a great job.”
“For a big, tough corporate type, you really are a chicken.”
“Sticks and stones.”
But, while Zack might be hesitant to be hands-on, he did have a point about stopping to let the baby bring up wind. Trinity drew the near empty bottle from her mouth and, bracing herself, waited for the grumble. When the baby only released a quivering sigh and blinked slumberous, contented eyes, Trinity smiled.
Too easy.
She rested the baby against the left side of her chest while Zack moved to position the towel over her shoulder. Then she sat forward to pat and rub the baby’s warm little back. Trinity’s eyes drifted shut as her heart swelled.
Dear heaven, she felt so small. So precious.
Minutes passed and, still patting, Trinity became curious. Then a little worried. Nothing was happening. Perhaps she ought to feed her the rest of the bottle. Maybe Zack should make another one, too. Or wasn’t she burping her right?
Zack must have read the uncertainty in her eyes. He sent over an encouraging look.
“Give her a chance. Her digestive system’s only new.”
She gave him a look. How do you know so much?
He shrugged. “Lots of nieces and nephews.”
Two minutes later, he was sitting on the edge of his chair, clasped hands resting against his chin, his brow lined. “Maybe pat a little harder.”
Trinity’s back went up. She didn’t need the added pressure. “Maybe you could go and organize your next big takeover.”
“I’m taking a couple of days off.”
“Then maybe go make us something to eat.” Instead of sitting there, watching her every move and making her all jittery.
He stayed put. “How do you know I can cook?”
“Same way you knew I could change a baby.”
He chuckled, then, looking suitably magnificent, he got to his socked feet. “In that case, prepare to be dazzled.”
She rolled her eyes and kept patting. “Let me guess. Macaroni and cheese.”
“You do realize that you are now in the wild. I’m all that separates you from any kind of sustenance and starvation.”
The baby answered for her, with a loud, most unladylike burp.
His jaw dropping, Zack drew a set of fingers through his hair. “Seems her digestive system is working just fine.”
Encouraged, Trinity eased out of the recliner onto her feet then patted some more. The baby rewarded them with another belch. Bringing the baby away from her shoulder to examine her face, Trinity beamed.
“Oh, she looks completely satisfied.”
That’s when the baby burped again. But this time, wind wasn’t the only thing she brought up.

Three
With that third big burp, not a whole lot stayed down.
The first priority—bathe the wailing baby!—was performed with much haste in the nearby laundry sink. Trinity found the task a slippery business, but when the baby had finally settled down from her upset, the kicking, splashing and happy squeals had made it a surprisingly enjoyable job as well.
After the baby was dried, powdered, rediapered then dressed in one of the outfits bought earlier in town, Trinity swapped her own soiled blouse for a clean one. Hours of rocking, singing and cooing, interspersed with more measured bottle feeds, followed. Far from laying bricks or digging holes, but energy requirements were surprisingly high. Trinity supposed she could have laid the baby back in her carrier and hoped for the best—that she wouldn’t whine—but those big blue eyes were so trusting, she simply couldn’t.
Zack busied himself preparing dinner for the adults—steak and salad—of which not a single bite touched their lips. She was too occupied with the baby, and Trinity supposed Zack might feel guilty eating when she couldn’t. He also made a cot of sorts in one of the recliners—comfortable, high enclosures, plenty of room. When the baby eventually shuddered out one last exhausted sigh and snuggled in, hopefully for the night, Trinity lowered her gently down into her bed and gazed at the peaceful sight for a long, thankful moment. Then she took her weary self and heavy arms off for a lovely hot shower.
Her choice of clothing afterward fell between a business suit or red silk pajamas…large jacket, long pants, all lined with soft brushed cotton. Matching slippers. Easy decision. In the privacy of the bedroom, she slipped into the soft silky folds, feeling too exhausted to worry about whether her attire was appropriate in the company of a man she knew only by reputation, and a bad reputation at that. But she doubted Zack would have the energy to goad. If he was half as tired as she was, he wouldn’t notice whether she stumbled out wrapped in a black cape and gnashing a set of fangs.
Damp hair caught in a messy bun, feeling squeaky-clean and ready to collapse, Trinity lumbered into the living room. She stopped at the foot of the stairs.
But for the rush of wind outside, the house was eerily quiet. The room was completely dark, too, except for the flickering glow emanating from the far wall. Hugging herself, Trinity edged closer. Over the top of the recliners, a glorious sight bit by bit came into view.
Crouched beside the fireplace, her handsome host was busy tending crackling orange-and-blue flames…a hypnotic sight that had Trinity’s lips parting to take in a dash more air. With slow, shifting shadows moving over his body—and the chiseled planes of his face—he seemed to sense her presence and glanced over. His gaze intensified then wandered to absorb her every inch, from the top of her wild bun all the way down to the red pom-poms on her feet. His study was so deliberate—so unapologetically favorable—it was more a self-indulgent, scorching touch. In the space of those few seconds, she’d never felt more like a woman. More desirable.
With just a look.
In one fluid movement, he pushed to his feet and set the poker blindly against the fireplace then moved nearer.
“You look ready for bed.”
His words—low, husky—enveloped her as he stopped an arm’s length away. A heartbeat later, when his scent wove into her lungs, Trinity involuntarily quivered inside and out. The seductive nature of the shadows, the blatant power of his presence…She felt so out of time and place, so unlike herself—if Zack touched her now, God help her, she might forget everything of which she disapproved and simply melt into a puddle at his feet.
“You were incredible.” His lidded gaze dipped to her lips and his chest rumbled. “You must be exhausted.”
Her mouth suddenly gone dry, Trinity tried to clear her swimming head. Yes, she was exhausted. Clearly more exhausted than she’d even thought.
“I knew she’d go down eventually,” she said.
“At one stage I had my doubts.” He flicked a look over at the baby sound asleep in her makeshift bed. “I can’t see her waking anytime soon.”
“Let’s hope. I don’t have one more verse of ‘Bye Baby Bunting’ left in me.”
He tipped his head toward the fireplace.
Her eyes had adjusted more to the lack of light. A thick quilt was lain out with plump white pillows propped up against the other recliners.
“I’ve imagined enjoying a brandy before a quiet fire since four o’clock this afternoon. Care to join me?”
Trinity’s pulse rate picked up a notch. After having spent the previous hands-on hours with him helping where he could, she might feel a little less hostile toward him, but not nearly enough to agree to lying in front of a flickering fireplace, sipping a glass of forty proof. But before she could decline, Zack threw up his hands.
“Yes, I know you think I’m a wolf—”
“Along with anyone else who picks up a magazine or goes on the web.”
He exhaled but his mouth managed to retain his sexy smile. “Anyway, I give my word I won’t use my apparently world-renowned seduction techniques to take advantage of the situation.”
“And I should believe you why?”
“Because you’re not my type, remember?”
Trinity paused. She had said that back at the hotel and anyone who understood the meaning of the saying “water meets its own level” knew it was true. That didn’t negate the fact that Zack Harrison was hot and irresistible and a natural born flirt. Far better to play it safe.
“Maybe I should make myself a cup of cocoa.”
But when she made a move toward the kitchen, he headed her off. “Let’s be civilized about this and meet halfway. Not brandy or cocoa. I propose red wine.”
“You really don’t like to be beaten, do you?”
Rubbing a hand over the broad expanse of his white T-shirted chest, he groaned. “Come on, Trin. Cut me a break. It’s late. We’re both beat. Let’s share a drink and chill a little before we crash.”
She held that breath. Was this poor puppy-dog act one of many from his repertoire—or was she overestimating her own appeal? He dated models, movie stars and heiresses, not girls on strict budgets who lived in studio apartments in Brooklyn. Hell, maybe deep down she wanted him to flirt with her. Maybe even kiss her. She wondered what her friends—her boss—would say. They all knew how she’d felt about men of his ilk. How she still felt.
But he was right. It was late. They were tired. She could let her guard down a little.
“Brandy might knock me out completely,” she smiled and admitted, “but a glass of red wine would be nice.”
In the firelight, his dark eyes glittered with a grin before he crossed to a cabinet that housed a small bar.
Her gaze took him in from top to barefoot toe. In that white T-shirt and black sweatpants he’d changed into earlier, he cut the figure of a prime athlete. The T-shirt’s fabric fell over the contours of his broad shoulders in an easy, tantalizing way that left her wondering who could ever weary of the sight. His legs were long and, from the firm sway of his body as he found bottles and glasses, obviously strong. As Trinity made herself comfortable on the quilt against the downy pillows, she was aware of every fiber relaxing and, at the same time, switching on to an unprecedented buzzing high. Probably not smart but, right now, it felt heavenly.
He brought over a glass for her, a snifter for himself and settled down a respectable distance to her left. After inhaling the wine’s bouquet, she sipped and smiled as the smooth warmth slid down her throat.
“Good?” he asked.
“Hmm, very.”
Satisfied, he leaned back against his pillow, tasted again, then hissed back through his teeth, clearly enjoying the burn of his brandy. But then his brow pinched and he glanced from the fire back at her.
“You know, we really ought to eat something,” he said.
She settled farther into the pillows. “Let’s sit here and just do nothing for five minutes.”
“So I won’t suggest you text your boss. You know you won’t make it back to New York for breakfast.”
Trinity’s insides pitched at the thought of having to explain why she needed a day off when there must be a pack of people who would die for a chance at her job. But then she let her eyes close and she sighed, too exhausted to think about that now.
She murmured, “Five minutes.”
Sometime later, Trinity felt something drift over her waist. Jerked back from sleep, she gasped and her eyes snapped open, but then she released that breath. Beyond the soft crackle of the fire and its shifting shadows, she recognized a man—Zack—settling a spare quilt over her legs.
“If the baby wakes during the night,” he said, collecting his snifter again, “I’ll get her.”
Reclining again, Trinity’s lips twitched. How did he intend to manage a messy diaper change? But the thought was a sweet one. And out of character, she thought. In his everyday life, she imagined Zack Harrison delegating all the mundane stuff, from RSVPing to five-star events to picking up the dry cleaning or sending a prospective female companion a stunning display of long-stemmed roses.
Bet his florist expenses are outrageous.
Overhead, something crashed and clattered on the roof. A branch whipped by the wind against the tiles? Trinity huddled down farther and inched the quilt higher. This snowstorm was really pulling up its sleeves. Could it possibly get any worse?
As the wind howled on like an angry beast outside, together they watched the fire’s gentle flames lick and curl and spit. The atmosphere was lulling…hypnotic. After a time, Zack spoke.
“You’re falling asleep.”
Trinity roused herself. “I was just losing myself in the pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“In the fire.”
He swirled his brandy. “You’re an artistic type.”
“Right-brained, I guess you’d say.” Thinking of the striking image Zack Harrison had drawn earlier—what an amazing natural form model he’d make—she indulged in a secret smile. “I like to sketch.”
“I never made it past stick figures. How are you at physics, chemistry?”
Covering her mouth, she feigned a yawn.
“All right.” His teasing gaze challenged hers. “So tell me. What do you see in the fire?”
“Sometimes I see animals,” she said. “Sometimes people’s faces.”
“And tonight?”
Thoughtful, she angled her head and lost herself in the snaking hypnotic heat of those flames. “I see a baby. I see bottles and giggles, and a few tears. I’ll probably dream about all that, too.”
“You don’t sound as though you’d mind.”
Her gaze dropped. Was it that obvious? Her shoulder came up as she confessed, “She’s a real cutie. It’s going to be hard saying goodbye.”
Out the corner of her eye, she saw his brandy swirl again and caught a whiff of its distinct bouquet before he pointed out, “Imagine how happy her parents will be.”
“Yes.” She tried to push aside her doubts—her own experience as a displaced child never reclaimed—and pinned on a smile. “I’ll imagine that.”
Zack maintained his own neutral look. His jaw didn’t flex. Nostrils didn’t flare. And yet he couldn’t have been more affected.
From the start, Trinity Matthews had done curious things to his normally lucid state of mind, even with claws out, having a go at him. Sitting here while they talked and joked in the firelight had only served to make him hyperaware of that point.
Despite the fact that she disapproved of his personal life—based on trashy tabloid news, he might add—he was sorely attracted to her. He wanted to reach over, bring her close. Damn it, he wanted to kiss her. And in a slow, all consuming, let’s-not-get-out-of-bed-for-a-week kind of way.
The simmering awareness in Trinity’s liquid eyes, the engaging vibe she gave off when she let her guard down…If he traced a fingertip around the curve of her cheek, dropped his head over hers, would she slant toward him? Would she object if he scooped her up and dragged her off to his bed? The temptation was real—ridiculously so.
And that set him back.
Not because he was uncomfortable with any aspect of physical attraction, particularly when the person he wanted was so intelligent, competent and full of her own brand of fire. He admired anyone who wanted to stand by a strong opinion—even when they were wrong. His concern stemmed more from the peculiar sense of depth of his attraction to Trinity Matthews. He’d been intrigued by women before but not this way. Frankly the awareness he was experiencing at this precise moment was a little unsettling.
Clearly it was a product of these unusual circumstances. Here they were—isolated, sharing an unanticipated, highly emotive experience. Yes. That must be the reason for it. This unshakable, unrelenting need.
For several moments, he swirled his drink and stared into the fire. When he’d composed himself—physically, mentally—he pushed to his feet then ran a hand through his hair.
“Guess I’ll grab a shower.”
Looking delicious in those oversize pj’s, lounging against those pillows, Trinity summoned a sleepy smile. “I’ll hold the fort.”
Before he surrendered to the beast within, still scratching and begging to be freed, Zack grabbed his cell off the kitchen counter, climbed the stairs and strode into his loft bedroom. Truth was, if it weren’t for the baby, he’d probably open that cage and see what treats might be forthcoming. But after hearing that poor kid cry after her postbottle accident, watching how well Trinity had cared for her, the least he could do was slap a lock on that door—for the time being at least. All the world knew he wasn’t a family-of-his-own type, however, here and now that child must be their number one priority. But once she was settled elsewhere, whether that be back with her mother or in the hands of the state—
Flinching, he ripped off his T-shirt.
The end result was out of his hands.
Two minutes later, hot water was spraying his back while, with one palm pressed against the glass, Zack took time to lather up his front. When his cell phone rang, his first thought was: go away. Call back. But then his brain clicked into gear and, soapy and dripping wet, he reached out to snatch up the phone. The voice belonged to the woman from Child Services he’d spoken with earlier, a Cressida Cassidy.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” Ms. Cassidy said. “I wanted to assure you that the authorities have been informed and a representative from both that department and my own will call tomorrow. The weather’s abysmal. Impassable. I hope you don’t mind caring for the baby overnight.”
“No.” The bathmat already sopping beneath his feet, Zack wiped water off his face. “I mean, that’s fine.”
“Has she settled down?”

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