Booties And The Beast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, I would.”

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

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

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

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

“Then it must be me.”

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

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

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

“You’re dodging the question.”

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

“It wouldn’t be hard to remedy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Da-da-da,” the baby gurgled.

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

“Da-da-da,” he repeated.

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

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

“Mama,” she repeated patiently around his fingers.

“Ba. Ba.”

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

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

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

“Problem?” she asked.

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

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

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

“I knew you were the person I needed.”

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

“You have baby powder on your nose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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