For Baby's Sake

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

One (#ulink_92dc199a-a8c8-50cf-a84d-8ebbd978e40a)

James Kavanagh liked working with his hands. Unlike his oldest brother, Liam, who spent his days wearing an Italian tailored suit, James was most comfortable in old jeans and T-shirts. Truth be told, it was a good disguise. No one expected a rich man to look like a guy who labored for a paycheck.

That was fine with James. He didn’t need people sucking up to him because he was a Kavanagh. He wanted to be judged on his own merits. Sure, he was entitled to a share of the family fortune. And yes, he’d added to that considerable pot with his own endeavors.

But at the end of the day, a man was only as rich as his reputation.

At the moment, James was painting the soffits on his own house in the heart of Silver Glen, North Carolina. The 1920s bungalow was a beauty; original hardwood floors, large windows that let in plenty of light and a front porch that was made for enjoying warm summer evenings.

Of course, summer was little more than a memory now. Before long, it would be time to put up the Christmas lights. When he’d thought about tackling that chore, he realized he had some peeling paint that needed attention. Such was the life of a carpenter. He poured most of his man-hours into renovating other people’s homes. His own place came way down the list.

As he dipped his paintbrush in the can balanced precariously on the top of the ladder, something disturbed his concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the house next door. Lila’s house. A house he once knew all too well.

It didn’t matter. He was over her. Completely. The two of them had been a fire that burned hot and bright, leaving only ashes. It was for the best. Lila was too uptight, too driven, too everything.

Still, something was going on. Lila’s silver Subaru was parked in its usual spot in the concrete driveway. But it was far too early for her to be arriving home from work. He gave up the pretense of painting and watched as she got out of the car.

She was tall and curvy and had long blond curls that no amount of hair spray could tame. Lila had the body of a pinup girl and the brains of an accountant—a lethal combo. Then came his second clue that things were out of kilter. Lila was wearing jeans and a Windbreaker. On a Monday.

He could have ignored all of that. Honestly, he was fine with the status quo. Lila had her job as vice president of the local bank, and James had the pleasure of dating women who were uncomplicated. Not bimbos. He had his standards, after all. There was nothing wrong, though, with a guy having fun.

Did it matter if his most recent girlfriend thought Kazakhstan was a new heavy metal band? Not every woman had to be a rocket scientist.

As he watched, Lila closed the driver’s door and opened the door to the backseat. Leaning in, she gave him a tantalizing view of a nicely rounded ass. He’d always had a thing for butts. Lila’s was first-class.

Suddenly, all thoughts of butts and sex and his long-ago love affair with his frustrating neighbor flew out the window. Because when Lila straightened, she was holding a baby.

* * *

Lila had a blistering headache. It didn’t help that James Kavanagh was watching her every move. He didn’t even try to hide his interest. Sometimes she thought he deliberately worked outside so she could see his gorgeous body and obsess about everything she had lost.

Today she didn’t care. Today she was in deep doo-doo. The humor in that comparison barely even registered.

Grabbing Sybbie’s little body in a death grip so the squirmy infant wouldn’t slide though her arms, Lila marched across the yard. At the base of James’s ladder, she paused and stared up at him. “I need help,” she said bluntly. “Will you come down so we can talk?”

If he agreed, it would be the first time in almost three years that the two of them had carried on more of a conversation than “nice day” or “your mail’s on the porch.” They tolerated each other. Politely. Which was not an easy thing to do when you had seen a man naked.

She closed that door firmly. “James?”

He appeared to be frozen. Suddenly, he dropped his paintbrush in the bucket and wiped his hands. “Of course.”

As he descended the ladder, she was forced to back up. James was a big guy. Not fat. Oh, no. Not an ounce of spare flab anywhere on his six-foot-three-inch body. His brothers called him the gentle giant. It was an apt description.

James had the physique of a man who could break boulders with his bare hands. Muscular, broad-shouldered and impressively strong, he was a man’s man. He also happened to be incredibly tender when making love to a woman who was half his size, but that was information from another time, another place, another Lila.

He stared at the baby, his expression inscrutable. “What’s up, Lila? Who’s this little charmer?” His thick, wavy, chestnut hair was overdue for a trim.

“Her name is Sybbie. My half sister died. She and her boyfriend. In a car accident.” It was still difficult to talk about, still impossible to believe.

“God, honey. I’m so sorry.”

She swallowed hard, almost undone by the genuine sympathy and concern in his rich brown eyes and deep voice. “I hadn’t seen her in a decade. She didn’t like me very much. But for some reason, she named me in her will as the baby’s guardian. Sybbie is almost eight months old.”

James’s intense scrutiny made her nervous. “And you accepted?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the short term. There may be other options. But for now, I have her.”

“I see.” She felt his doubt almost tangibly. James knew her feelings about children. It was part of the reason they had split up. “So, why do you need to talk to me?”

“My house needs some modifications.”

“For a short-term situation?”

“I am a responsible adult. I won’t endanger a baby simply because it inconveniences me. My bedroom is on the top floor. I want to turn the dining room into a nursery, and I’ll move into the downstairs bedroom.”

“Makes sense.”

His grudging approval eased some of the tightness in her chest. “Do you have time in your schedule to do what needs to be done?” James bought houses and flipped them. His work was meticulous. Many of the finest homes in the historic district had been restored by James.

“I’ll have to juggle some things, but I think I can make it work. Who’s going to keep the kid?”

It was a fair question and an obvious one. The only fully licensed child care center in Silver Glen took babies when they were twelve months or older. “I’ve used my paid time off for bereavement and more than a week of my two-week vacation, counting today. But I have four days left.”

“Four days? What about maternity leave?” His raised eyebrow made her feel guilty for no good reason.

“That will only kick in if I actually adopt Sybbie. The auditors will be here next Monday. I can’t miss that. I’ll figure out something.”

James stared at her. She refused to fidget. Working in the upper echelons of a profession traditionally dominated by men had taught her to look unshakeable even when she was nervous on the inside.

When he still didn’t speak, she snapped at him. “What?”

James’s shoulders lifted and fell in a deep sigh. “Caring for an eight-month-old is a lot of work.” He wasn’t merely tossing out platitudes. All six of his brothers were married, and most of them had kids. The youngest Kavanagh sibling was a beloved uncle. She had seen that with her own two eyes...a hundred years ago when she had been James’s girlfriend for a tempestuous three months.

He was right to have doubts about her. But at the moment, she didn’t see any other options. “I know that,” she said quietly, refusing to be hurt by his unspoken assessment of her nurturing talents. “I’m not afraid of hard work. Will you come next door with me and let me show you what I’m thinking?”

“Sure.”

He strode beside her as they crossed from his handkerchief-sized lawn to hers. The next embarrassing moment was not being able to unlock the front door while holding the baby.

James took the little girl without asking. At last the stupid key turned and they were able to go inside. The house hadn’t changed at all since the last time James was here. But he didn’t utter a single comment to make her uncomfortable. An observer would have noticed nothing in his demeanor to suggest that he and Lila had once made love leaning over the sturdy, oak dining room table.

Her cheeks heated. “Through here,” she muttered.

Sybbie seemed enamored with the new man in her life. She was a quiet, easy child, her temperament sunny unless she was tired or hungry.

Lila stopped in the kitchen doorway. “I don’t really need a dining room, anyway. I never use it. After Sybbie is gone, the nursery could always be turned into a small den or a sitting room for the guest room.”