A Baby for Mummy

Not sure what it was about this woman that had him putting it all on the line like this, he forced himself to go on. “So what do you say? Will you help us out?”

EMILY’D THOUGHT DAN KINGSLAND was attractive when she met him earlier, but that kick of awareness was nothing compared to the sizzle she felt when she arrived on his doorstep at six that very evening for the agreed-upon “consultation.”

The single dad of three answered before she could even ring the bell.

He was dressed in boots, faded jeans and a pine-colored pullover sweater that brought out the green of his eyes. His sandy-blond hair was cut in a rumpled, laid-back style that required little maintenance. His five-o’clock shadow only added to his ruggedly handsome appeal.

He looked a bit harried, but as their eyes met and he said, “I’m really glad you came,” he gave her an easy, welcoming grin.

Emily wished she felt the same ease. She sensed that if you gave this man an inch, he’d take a mile, anything to get what he wanted. Which was, apparently, a path to family peace.

Attempting a laid-back cool she didn’t feel, Emily thrust her hands in the pockets of her tailored wool slacks. These days, she avoided situations that felt too…intimate from the get-go. Plus, she was a chef—not a consultant—and it was clear from the sounds of rambunctious activity in the foreground that his family was in the midst of end-of-workweek chaos. But in this case, money talked. She needed the extra cash the gig offered to facilitate her move back to Fredericksburg. So she’d taken it, even though she wasn’t sure what Dan expected her to be able to do here tonight.

Oblivious to the conflicted nature of her thoughts, Dan led her through the foyer to the rear of the two-story brick home. A messy, hopelessly outdated kitchen was on one side, an equally cluttered breakfast room took up the middle and on the other side of the thousand-square-foot space was a gathering room, complete with an L-shaped sofa and large stone fireplace, with bookshelves on either side. There was stuff everywhere. Briefcase. Schoolbags. Jackets and shoes and caps.

In the midst of it were his three offspring. All had his long, rangy build, sandy-blond hair and green eyes. There the similarity ended, she realized after Dan’s brief introduction. Ava, seventeen, had her nose in a book and was busy highlighting passages with a yellow marker. Fifteen-year-old Tommy was standing in front of the fridge with the door open wide, studying the contents. Eight-year-old Kayla was dividing her time between an easel and paintbrush, and a mess of rainbow-colored modeling clay. She seemed to be working on both art projects simultaneously. Everyone seemed to be in everyone else’s way and not particularly inclined to do anything about it.

The little girl got up and rushed over to Emily, skidding to a stop just short of her. Washable paint dotting her arms and face, she demanded, “Are you here to cook for us?”

“Emily is here to consult with us and help us solve our problem,” Dan explained. “She’s going to give us some ideas on what we can eat for dinner that will make everyone happy.”

“Good luck with that,” Tommy grumbled. He grabbed a bottle of some sports drink from the fridge, guzzled half and started toward the door. “I’m going for a run.”

Dan held up a hand. “You just got home from wrestling practice.”

Tommy shrugged and plucked his sweat-dampened T-shirt away from his body. “I didn’t get enough of a workout.”

Emily gauged the flushed state of his skin and thought maybe he had.

“Not now,” Dan repeated with paternal firmness.

Ava stood. “I don’t have time for this, either. I’ve got to study.” She picked up her heavy AP Biology textbook and highlighter.

On a Friday night? Emily wondered. Shouldn’t the girl be going out with friends or just relaxing after a long week? As Emily had planned to do herself before getting waylaid by Ava’s father?

Not to be outdone by her older siblings, Kayla tugged on Emily’s blouse. “I’ve got to paint. Want to watch me?” She grabbed a brush so quickly she knocked over a jar of paint, splattering the table and floor.

Irritated, Tommy said, “Dad, make her get that stuff out of here!”

Kayla clamped her hands on her hips and tossed her long, disheveled blond hair. “I’m supposed to do my artwork in the kitchen, so I don’t make a mess on the carpet!”

Ava looked up from her book long enough to put in her two cents. “Yeah, well, your stuff is in our way, as always!”

“Kids, that’s enough,” Dan reprimanded them just as a stiff-legged older man with a white buzz cut walked in. Dan introduced him to Emily as Uncle Walt.

Walt looked at Dan, perplexed. “I thought you were cooking tonight, Dan.”

Dan shrugged. “Change of plans.”

Emily looked at Dan. Had she been lured here under false pretenses?

He flattened a hand over his heart. “I wasn’t going to try and rope you into it.” Dan grabbed a roll of paper towels and knelt to mop up the spilled paint.

“Why not?” Uncle Walt argued, lending a hand, too. “If she can cook and she’s here and it’s dinnertime…Anything she makes would have to beat your cooking.”

Dan took the ribbing with the affection it was given. “Thanks,” he said wryly. Standing, he tossed the towel into the trash and went to wash his hands.

“It doesn’t matter who cooks—meals around here suck,” Tommy grumbled.

Which made Emily wonder if the kids liked the food anywhere. “What about with your mom?” she asked, curious as to whether Dan’s ex had it any better when she had the kids. “What do you do for meals when you’re with her?”

The room suddenly grew very silent. No one volunteered anything. Feeling like she’d plunged headlong into quicksand, Emily forged on, searching for information. “I gather meals are a problem there, too, then.”

Another heartbeat passed. Then another.

Walt cleared his throat. “Didn’t Dan tell you? My great-niece hasn’t lived in the United States since she and Dan split up.”

Chapter Two

Emily only wished Dan had thoroughly filled her in before she’d accepted this gig. If he had, she would have known this was the kind of situation that tugged on her heartstrings. And hence, one she should avoid. Now, more than ever…

“Mom’s in Africa,” Tommy blurted out.

“Keep up, will you?” Ava scolded, shoving her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “That was last week. She’s in China this week.”

“Whatever.” Tommy shrugged, edging toward the back door again. “The point is, she’s not here. She’s never here.”

Kayla picked at the rainbow-colored volcano she had built with her modeling clay. “Yeah, we wish she would come back to see us ’cause we miss having a mommy.”

Walt grimaced. “My niece is a physician for the International Children’s Medical Service, or ICMS.”

Which meant, Emily concluded, that Dan had full custody of their brood, with all the attendant joys and problems. As well as his ex-wife’s great-uncle. This was an interesting situation.

Dan paused, his expression filled with remorse. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear about that.”

Emily slowly exhaled, belatedly wishing she hadn’t asked a question that had upset the whole clan. On the other hand…what did the former Mrs. Kingsland’s ongoing neglect of her kids have to do with her? Nothing, she reassured herself firmly, since she didn’t expect to be here very long at all. This was Dan’s dilemma—not hers!

Kayla tugged on Dan’s sweater. “Dad, I need dinner now!”

Appearing frustrated he hadn’t made any strides toward solving his problem, Dan silenced the complaining with a motion of his palm. “Fine. We’ll order pizza.”

“Not again!” the two older kids said in unison.

Dan sent Emily a look as if to say, See what I’m dealing with here?

Kayla stomped her foot. “But I’m really, really hungry!” she wailed as tears pooled in her eyes.

“It’ll take at least an hour to get here at this time on a Friday night,” Ava predicted with a beleaguered sigh.