This Baby Business

Carly then spent the next two hours taking Grace for a stroll around the neighborhood and to the nearby park in the lightweight umbrella stroller rated as the most portable and functional by Baby Today. They were the standard in the industry, and Carly hoped they would consider buying RockYourBaby for top dollar. Time was running out.

Last night, she’d checked in with Kirk and asked to speak with Dad.

“He’s having a bad day,” Kirk had warned.

That was always code for “He’s not talking to anyone and being a pain in the ass. He won’t do his exercises.”

“I’ll try back tomorrow.”

Mom’s death had hit them all hard, sure, but none harder than their father. He regularly fought with the therapists who were trying to get him to rehabilitate his hip and wasn’t the man Carly remembered anymore. He’d always been her biggest supporter. Her protector. When Carly had wanted to go to New York City and study design, instead of something far more practical as her mother had suggested, it was Daddy who had supported Carly’s decision. He’d smoothed things out with Pearl. And he’d smoothed again, double time, when Carly had returned from the Big Apple a big fat failure.

Grace squealed. She seemed happiest outside, distracted by the outdoors. Entranced by flowers, trees, dogs and children playing. Carly stopped to pull out her phone and take several photos of her. She was a cute baby. Long dark lashes and blue-gray eyes. Toothless smile. Maybe Carly could ask Levi for permission to use Grace as a baby model for the website. Holy cow, she was totally rocking the great ideas today. She could dress Grace up in cute outfits she created and post photos of her on the blog. Another way to avoid actual words.

Grace fell asleep on the way home, and she was still asleep when five thirty rolled around and Levi pulled up outside. A person could set a clock by the guy.

She met him at the door. “She’s still sleeping. Want to come in and wait?”

“Yeah.” He stepped inside. “Might as well let her sleep.”

How exactly did he manage to look like sex on a stick at the end of a long day? He had this whole badass look going on, late-afternoon scruffiness over his jawline, making her want to rub against him like a cat.

Bad, bad Carly. “I wanted to talk to you about something anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. I haven’t had a whole lot of luck finding another sitter. I’ll make a few calls tonight.” He followed her into the family room.

“That’s not it. I need a favor.”

“Done.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

He gave her an easy smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Be careful, Levi Lambert. You never know what I might ask.”

“Bring it on.” His eyes filled with obvious male appreciation.

She was reminded of her bare legs. The look he slid her was so full of heat that she thought her panties might spontaneously burst into flames. Focus, Carly, focus.

“I want to put photos of Grace on my website. I took some cute ones today.” She took her phone out and showed them to him. Shots of Grace staring with delight at a tree as if she’d just discovered them. Smiling as she watched a child playing ball, staring wide-eyed at a woman walking her poodle down the street.

“You took her to the park. She loves it there.” Levi didn’t take the phone from her but instead held her wrist and brought the phone up closer.

Her stupid wrist tingled as if it thought it might be about to have a good time. She cleared her throat. “I know. Just look at this one. I think she noticed a cloud for the first time.”

He grinned, still holding her wrist. “Nah, she saw one last week.”

“Right. So...is it okay if I put her photos up? She’s an adorable baby.”

“Fine with me.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll never share her real name with my readers. And no one has any idea that the company is based in Fortune. My mother took great precautions to protect our privacy.”

“I trust you.” His big, rough hand slid from her wrist to her elbow, and the tingle traveled.

“Thank you.” She stared at his lips, willing him to kiss her. “The trust is...important.”

“Extremely.”

That talented hand now settled on her waist and pulled her closer. And somehow her hands were squeezing his biceps and she went up on the balls of her feet to get closer still. He kissed her long and deep, his hot, wet tongue insistent. It got wild and crazy as her hands fisted his shirt and his hands palmed her ass.

“Levi.” She broke off from the kiss, breathless. “We probably shouldn’t do this. It’s not...a good idea.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re right.”

Great. He agreed with her. “It’s stupid.”

“Yeah.” He tugged her in tighter and kissed her again. And again.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and moaned into his mouth.

And they continued to be crazy stupid for the next hour.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u67794f6a-04ed-5b54-b705-d09e131f9b21)

A FEW DAYS LATER, the blog post with the photos of the outfit Carly had created went viral.

It had been reblogged over a thousand times. Someone, possibly one of her readers, had created a Pinterest board named Fashionista Baby. The hashtag #fashionistababy was trending on Twitter, with mothers posting photos of their own favorite baby outfits. All wanted to know where they might find similar clothes to the one Carly had made.

Patsy, her mother’s accountant, phoned to tell Carly that whatever she’d been doing, she should keep it up. They’d received renewed interest from some of their lost sponsors. Companies were calling and asking questions. She didn’t think it would be long now. They’d get an offer, Carly would sell the company and Daddy would have the money he needed for the extensive physical therapy ahead of him. And Carly would finally find...something to do with the rest of her life.

Definitely not this baby business.

While Grace took a nap, Carly finished her latest blog post—“How to Handle a Teething Baby”—then dialed her father to give him the good news. This time Kirk gladly handed him the phone.

“Hi, Daddy. How’s the hip?”

“Still hurts like hell, honey. But that’s hardly your problem. These physical therapists out here don’t know shit.”

“Are you doing your exercises?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s like I told my PT guy—I spent half my life on my feet. Climbing, lifting. Never had a fall or a broken bone. Not one. Come out east to visit with Kirk, and a piece of ice does me in. But now that I have a new hip, those people won’t let me take it easy for a minute. I tell them to let me rest the hip, but no one listens to me. I’m just an old man, so what the hell do I know?”

Dad was a retired PG&E lineman and had worked physically hard all his life. At sixty-five, he didn’t like anyone telling him how to spend his time. When he’d once been asked what he’d planned to do in his retirement, Daddy said he had plans to surf. From his couch.

“Well, I’m glad I called, because I’ve got great news,” Carly said.

“Could always use some of that.”