Corporate Daddy

Two

It was after seven o’clock when Logan let himself into the three-bedroom town house that was his private residence. As part of one of the most exclusive planned communities in San Antonio, it afforded him privacy, luxury, and a number of useful amenities such as indoor pools, gym, game rooms and sauna, all with twenty-four-hour staff. He hadn’t seen Emily’s sensible compact car in the drive, but it was not beyond possibility that she was here.

“Emily?”

Silence. He was unconcerned, however. Emily Applegate was nothing if not efficient and dependable. In the two years that she had been his executive assistant, his life had been sublimely simple—until now. Until Amanda Sue. Desperately, he put his young daughter out of mind, as he had done all afternoon.

Taking the mail out of his jacket pocket, he flipped on the overhead light in the entry and began to thumb through it as he moved down the cool hallway. Bill. Bill. Solicitation. Advertisement. Advertisement. Bill. He stepped into the living room and looked up, more to get his bearings than for any other reason. What he saw there, however, brought him to an immediate halt. It looked like a baby store warehouse!

Mouth ajar, he surveyed the bounty. He identified a crib, a high chair, a stroller and a playpen before turning to the rocking chair heaped with colorful fabrics in the center of the floor. His gold, butter-soft leather couch was piled with toys. Tiny articles of clothing covered the matching chair. The ottoman held stacks of books. Bottles, tubes and jars littered the end tables. Setting aside the mail, he picked up an unfamiliar object and examined it. The labeling proclaimed it the latest in digital fever thermometers.

Before he could take in the rest, the door opened at the end of the foyer and a series of bangs and grunts alerted him that even more was coming. He moved in the direction of the noise. Emily was struggling to get Amanda Sue, her diaper bag and a couple of plastic sackfulls of groceries into the foyer.

“Here, let me help,” he said, taking both bags. No sooner had he set them down in the living room than she informed him that more waited in the car.

He hauled in jars and jars of toddler food, boxes of dry cereal, milk and diapers. “Where do you want it?”

Emily had collapsed onto the sofa among the toys, Amanda Sue in her lap. A long lock of sandy-brown hair had pulled loose from Emily’s ubiquitous bun to lay across her shoulder and chest. He hadn’t realized that her hair was so long or shiny. As he watched, Amanda Sue reached up and absently coiled the silky lock around one little hand, rubbing her eyes with the other fist even as she wriggled in an attempt to get down. Though bedraggled and exhausted, Emily, nevertheless, held on. She stared at him for a moment, sans glasses, then sighed.

“I assume you know where your own kitchen is.”

“What about the diapers?”

“Upstairs with the rest of this stuff,” she said, waving a hand wearily.

He wondered where upstairs he was supposed to find room for a department store but wisely kept the thought to himself. After carrying the bags into the kitchen, he stowed the milk in the refrigerator and left everything else on the counter.

When he returned to the living room, he found that Emily had kicked off her shoes and closed her eyes. The look on her face as she flexed her toes might have been pain or pleasure. He noted with unexpected interest that she wasn’t wearing stockings. Her straight, knee-length skirt had hiked slightly, giving him an excellent view of her long, slender legs. Funny, but now that she wasn’t groomed to within an inch of her life, she was surprisingly appealing. Rumpled suited her. Usually, it was the other way around with the women he knew. She seemed to sense his presence and opened her eyes.

“You’ve certainly been busy,” he began, only to find himself being shushed.

“Don’t wake the baby,” she whispered, tucking the escaped lock of hair behind her ear and nodding down at her lap. Amanda Sue lay sprawled across her, eyes closed, bottom lip protruding in a perpetual pout. “She can’t sleep long or she won’t sleep tonight,” Emily went on, “but if she doesn’t get a short nap she’s going to be too wound up to sleep at all. And God knows I could use a few minutes peace.”

He lowered his voice to say, “Why don’t we put her down in another room?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “We can’t do that. She could fall off a regular bed or wake up and climb down, in which case the room will be wrecked before we even know it, providing she doesn’t break her neck first, of course. You have to put together the crib.”

Logan knew she was right. He’d never seen a kid who moved as fast or was as determined as this one. He took off his coat, stripped away his tie and rolled up his sleeves before reaching for the big, flat box containing the crib parts. “Where should I put it?”

“Upstairs, the bedroom farthest from the landing.”

Grimacing, he began dragging the unwieldy box up the stairs. Putting the crib together took hours and every tool in the house, or it seemed so, anyway. When Emily came upstairs with Amanda Sue on her hip and a stack of linens tucked under one arm, she took one look at the as yet lopsided crib and the pieces still littering the floor and quipped, “Want me to call a rocket scientist?”

“Yeah, would you?” he retorted. “I’m thinking of exploring outer space.”

She laughed. “It’s not as daunting as it seems.”

“I know. I’ve almost got it. Won’t take a minute more.”

She dumped the linens on the dresser. “I was talking about parenthood.”

Unconvinced, he said nothing to that.

“I took the liberty of making us some dinner,” she said.

That was good news. “Great! I’ll be right down.”

She nodded. “I’ll start feeding the baby.”

He quickly finished up, put away the tools and carried them back downstairs. Emily had set the table in the kitchen. He’d had it made to match the planked fronts of the cabinets and countertops which were accented with black wrought iron.

“It isn’t much,” she said, “just sandwiches and salad.”

“Sounds good to me,” he assured her, eyeing his baby daughter. “What on earth has she got all over her?”

“Squished carrots and beef weiners,” Emily answered offhandedly.

A fat plastic spoon with a short, curved handle lay on one corner of the high chair tray. He was about to ask why Amanda Sue wasn’t using it when she picked it up, banged it loudly against the tray and threw it to the floor. Emily calmly picked it up and carried it to the sink, washing it while Amanda Sue dug into the food on her plate with both hands and crammed it into her mouth.

“Why is she doing that?” Logan asked, disgusted.

“Amanda Sue prefers to feed herself,” Emily explained mildly, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “It’s typical behavior for children her age.”

He walked around the table and took his own place, eyeing his messy daughter warily. As he devoured his meal, he marveled as Emily ate her own dinner and still managed to get some of Amanda Sue’s inside her with the clean spoon, all without relinquishing the utensil to Amanda Sue’s stubborn grasp or getting covered in mush herself. Moreover, her sandwiches were tasty and the salad crisp. Best of all, though, was Emily’s iced tea.

“You’ll have to show me how you make your tea,” he said, sated and content.

She shook her head. “My mama wouldn’t like that. It’s a—”

“Ma-ma!” Amanda exclaimed, suddenly struggling to get out of her chair. “Mammma!”

“Secret,” Emily finished, grimacing sheepishly. “Sorry.” She worked with Amanda Sue for several minutes, offering her first the spoon and then the cup before the cries subsided. Logan sighed. How was he going to raise this little girl without her mother? There was so much he didn’t know or understand.

“Kitchen or baby?” Emily asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Do you want to clean up the kitchen or the baby?”

A no-brainer. He was clearing the table before Emily could get to her feet. She stripped the baby, wiped her face and hands with her filthy shirt and helped her out of the high chair, carrying her away. A few minutes later, Logan had loaded the dishwasher—a relatively new experience for him as he usually left his dishes in the sink for the housekeeper—stowed the leftover salad in the refrigerator and tackled Amanda Sue’s high chair with a roll of paper towels. When he was done, he wandered out into the living room and looked around him in dismay. Resigned, he started moving everything upstairs.

He made the last trip, then wandered down the hall to the bathroom. The door was open, and Emily’s patient murmur, overlaid with sounds of splashing and squeals of glee, was clearly audible. Logan leaned a hip against the frame, his hands sliding into his pants’ pockets and observed.

Emily knelt beside the tub, a towel draped across her upper body, for all the good it had done her; her skirt and sleeves were soaked. A naked Amanda Sue was strapped into an ingenuous plastic seat with suckers on the feet that fixed it to the bottom of the tub. Her wet hair plastered to her head, she was happily smacking the surface of the water with her hands and forearms, splashing walls, floor, herself and Emily.

“She really seems to like the water,” he commented.

“So long as you don’t wash her hair with it,” Emily replied wryly.

Amanda Sue squealed and splashed at the same time, filling her mouth with water. She gagged, spat, decided it was all in fun and laughed. Logan felt a moment of concern there, but followed Emily’s lead and remained calm. The kid really was having a ball, and he couldn’t help laughing at her antics. After a few minutes, Amanda Sue quit splashing long enough to rub her eyes.

“Time to get out, sweetheart,” Emily said, loosening the belt and sliding her hands under Amanda Sue’s arms. Amanda Sue immediately started to buck and kick, screaming in protest. Emily wrapped the towel draped across her shoulder around Amanda Sue’s wet body as she rose. Suddenly she thrust the wriggling child into Logan’s arms and turned back to drain the tub of what little water remained.

“Whoa!” He almost dropped her, as her slippery little body twisted and bucked with surprising strength. “Hold on! Calm down!” A little fist smacked him under the chin, and his teeth clamped down on his tongue. “Ow! You little hellion!” He literally juggled her, trying to get a decent hold on the slick little body. Amanda Sue laughed and tried to throw herself upward. The next instant she was squirming and pushing and straining toward the tub again. “Do you never give up?” he asked in exasperation.

“Here.” Emily thrust a tub toy into Amanda Sue’s hand. It went immediately to her mouth. “The tub is empty,” Emily said, as if Amanda Sue could understand every word. “It’s time for bed.”

Amanda Sue whimpered a moment and put on a great act of clearly feigned heartbreak.

“You little faker,” Logan said. “Where’d you learn this stuff?”

“It comes naturally,” Emily told him, chuckling.

He frowned as she slipped past him and down the hallway. Amanda Sue bit her tub toy and laid her head on his shoulder. Logan turned and followed Emily. “Are you saying she inherited this tendency toward theatrics from me?” he demanded.

Emily tossed him a look over her shoulder. “I’m saying that all children are natural actors. It’s part of learning to communicate.” She turned into Amanda Sue’s bedroom, and Logan followed with the baby.

“Oh.”

Emily took a piece of fabric from the dresser and shook it out, revealing a small, fitted sheet, which she began putting on the mattress in the crib. “Think you could towel-dry her hair?”

“Sure.” How hard could it be, after all? He stood Amanda Sue on the end of her dresser and pulled the towel up over her head. She shoved it off so hard that she nearly toppled onto the floor. “Hey!” he cried, grabbing her at the last instant.

“Try the rocking chair,” Emily said, shaking out blankets and tucking them into the bed.

He sat in the rocker, balanced Amanda Sue on his knee, and pulled the towel up over her head again. She tossed herself backward and slid down between his legs. Catching her with his legs, he trapped her there between them and rubbed the towel over her hair. She fought him with screams and shrugs. Finally he pulled her up into his lap again. She promptly tried to climb him like a tree. Emily extracted a cotton-knit nightgown from a pile of clothing and reached for the child, literally pulling her off Logan’s head.

He smoothed his hair down with both hands, saying, “This kid must be part mountain goat.”

Emily sent him a loaded glance. “Maybe she inherited that tendency, too.”

“Just for the record,” he snapped, “her mo—uh, Donna was as crazy about rock climbing as I am. That’s how we met, you know. She was working for the guide, flying parties to climbs by helicopter.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Emily said, pulling the gown’s short sleeves over one of Amanda Sue’s flailing arms. “Why should I? It was before my time.”

“Oh. That’s right, but just before.” Odd that he’d just come back from a month in the Rockies with Donna as his climbing partner when he’d hired Emily. His previous assistant had set up half a dozen interviews for him, and Emily had been the very first. He’d hired her on the spot and never been so glad as now.

Emily quickly diapered Amanda Sue, who was rubbing her eyes again and beginning to lose her fight. Then she removed a tattered teddy bear from the diaper bag and handed it to the child before clipping her pacifier to her shoulder. Amanda Sue made that odd half-laugh, half-sob sound as she hugged the stuffed bear, babbling, “Sur-bay, sur-bay.”

“What’s she saying?” Logan asked.

“I think she’s calling the bear by name.”

“What would that be, Sir Bear, maybe?”

Amanda Sue shook her head violently, answering his question herself. “Sur-bay,” she said, “Sur-bay.” She started kissing it, making loud smacking sounds, then bit its nose.

“Sugar Bear?” Emily suggested.

Amanda Sue kicked and laughed. “Sur-bay!”

Logan shook his head. “How do you do that?” he asked Emily. “How can you understand her?”

Emily shrugged. “Practice,” she said, picking up Amanda Sue and replacing the bear’s nose with her pacifier. “I have several nieces and nephews.”

He hadn’t known that but was suddenly reluctant to admit it. She’d worked for him for two years, after all, and he hardly had any secrets from her, depending on her to help him balance both his business and social schedules—and now his domestic life. He should know more about her.

“Turn on one of those monitors,” Emily said, nodding toward what looked like a pair of plastic walkie-talkies on the dresser. Logan did so. “Now turn off the light, but leave the door open.” He did that, too, while she sat down in the rocking chair with Amanda Sue, bear, and pacifier.

He leaned a hip against the end of the dresser and watched as Emily engaged the baby’s attention by first talking to her, then whispering to her as she rocked gently back and forth. Soon his rambunctious daughter’s eyelids began to droop and she settled into the crook of Emily’s arm. Minutes later, she was lolling peacefully. Rising carefully, Emily carried the sleeping child to her crib and gently tucked her in, being sure to keep the bear next to her. Turning away, she picked up the extra monitor and tiptoed from the room. Logan followed.

When they were several yards away, Emily turned on the monitor and carried it down the stairs, where she placed it near to hand on the coffee table.

“You’d better take that to bed with you,” she instructed, stepping into her shoes. “She’s liable to wake up several times during the night, and you’ll need to reassure her. But don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal under the circumstances. She’ll settle down before long.”

He barely heard what she was saying, his attention completely focused on the fact that Emily was obviously leaving. “Where are you going?”

She sent him a surprised look. “Home, if you must know.”

Sheer panic descended. “You can’t go home! I need you here. Amanda Sue needs you.”

Emily sighed and folded her arms, fixing him with an implacable look. “Listen, I understand that you’re concerned, but you’ll be fine. Just do what I did.”

“B-but what if she cries?”

“Calm her down. Just remember that the key is to stay calm yourself.”

“She could want something, and I wouldn’t know what!” he protested.

“Yes, you will,” Emily assured him. “If she wants a bottle or her bear, she’ll ask for them. You’ll figure out the rest by just paying attention.”

“Emily, I insist that you stay!”

She gave him a look he’d seen before. It clearly said that she could find another job anytime she wanted. Unaccountably, he was hurt. This wasn’t work, this was…personal. And Emily was an employee, not a friend. He bit his lip, feeling extremely foolish.

“You’re right. I’m sure we’ll, uh, manage.”

Emily nodded crisply. “I’ll be in the office early in the morning to take care of a few things I didn’t get done today, for obvious reasons. I took the liberty of calling an agency and setting up a few interviews with prospective nannies, so you’ll want to bring Amanda Sue into the office with you. I thought that was preferable to doing the interviews here, all things considered. But take your time in the morning. I know how hard it is to get a baby changed, fed, dressed, packed and out of the house. First appointment is at ten.”

“Ten,” he echoed numbly, wondering how in blue blazes he was going to get through this.

“I moved the safety seat to your car earlier while you were putting up the crib,” she said. “Just be sure the restraining belt is clipped before you leave. She’ll fight you, of course, but she won’t win unless you let her.”

He nodded, but he didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t tell her that the curly headed little moppet upstairs had already won the battle of wills between them a dozen times that day. He’d never been so exasperated as when driving her to and from the ranch. It was like trying to travel with a caged tiger, one smarter than him. He’d groveled all he intended to for one day, however. If Emily was determined to go, well, that was that.

When she moved toward the foyer, he almost let her go without another word, but then he thought of all she’d done for them that day and knew he couldn’t. Gritting his teeth, he hurried after her. “Emily.”

She paused and turned, obviously expecting more entreaties. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to thank you for everything.”

She smiled wearily. “No problem. I realize you were desperate. Glad I could help.”

“I still don’t know what half the stuff you bought is for, but I’m sure I’ll need it,” he told her. “I—I just wish I could handle her as well as you do.”