Must Like Kids

His voice rose and, despite his best efforts, his tone turned defensive. “Laurel didn’t want them involved. That was her call. It was her decision.”

At nine and eleven, Laurel’s two daughters were miniature versions of their mother, and as such, extremely high-maintenance, which was why Laurel preferred to leave them to their nanny.

“Did you ever try to change her mind?”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“To me? No. To the public, it would, yes.”

He exhaled in frustration now. “Look, I’ve never claimed to be a family man. I’m a businessman. A damned good one, in fact, which is why Best For Baby brought me on board. The company needed a qualified executive. My personal life shouldn’t be an issue.”

“It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t opened your mouth and made it one,” Julia shot back without missing a beat. “Which brings us back to square one, Alec.”

He cursed and returned to his seat. He hated that she was right. As he scrubbed a hand down his face, Julia was saying, “You can’t change what you said. It’s on the record and will be winging around cyberspace indefinitely. What we can change is your image going forward.”

“I know.” His hand fell away, but it curled into a fist at his side, mirroring the position of the left one.

“Good.” She continued to drive home the point. Her tone became instructional, perhaps to offset the censure inherent in her words. “To the baby-product-buying public, you are the epitome of a playboy. You have the position and enough power and wealth to subsidize a very adult lifestyle. It doesn’t hurt that you grew up in privilege.”

He snorted at that. Sometimes privilege was just another word for lonely.

She was saying, “Golf, fine dining, first-class travel at all-inclusive resorts not known for their child-friendly amenities—these are very adult activities. As such, they aren’t going to help us convince the broader public that you understand family life or its particular needs.”

“So you’re going to have me be seen out and about in public, kissing babies. Got it.” He sighed and made his hands unclench.

“That’s not exactly the attitude I’m hoping you’ll project.”

“I’ll work on it,” he grumbled.

She made a humming noise. Then her gaze narrowed. “How about a test run this evening?”

He frowned. “I’m not following you.”

“What do you have on your schedule for six o’clock?”

He did a mental check of his calendar. “A meeting with the head of the accounting department at five to go over some expense report irregularities. I don’t know if it will be concluded by then.”

“Really? A meeting after regular business hours? You can’t be a very popular boss.” She shook her head, forestalling his reply. “Can you reschedule it?”

“I guess so,” he said slowly. “Why?”

Those full lips bloomed into a smile that managed to be sexy despite the calculating gleam in her eyes. “Have you ever been to a T-ball game?”

* * *

What was she thinking, inviting Alec to join her at the game?

Julia asked herself the question a dozen times as she maneuvered through traffic after picking up her children from St. Augustine’s after-school program. Her goal was that Danielle and Colin never had to spend more than two hours there on any given day. Except during the summer. In another week, the school year would wrap up, and her children would be spending three days a week there, with the other two at their grandparents’ just outside the city.

Guilt nipped, as it always did, even though it couldn’t be helped. She was a working mother, the sole breadwinner. The after-school program wasn’t a bad one. The kids went on field trips to places such as Chicago’s Field Museum of Natural History, Navy Pier and the John C. Shedd Aquarium. But before they were born, Julia had pictured their lives differently. She’d planned to be a stay-at-home mom. For a brief time she had been. Then Scott had gotten sick and plans had changed.

“What’s for dinner?” Colin asked from the backseat as she brought the car to a stop at a light.

“Turkey grinders from Howard’s Deli,” Julia replied, deciding not to add that they would be on whole wheat buns with slices of tomato and green peppers and shredded lettuce to at least make them a somewhat balanced meal.

In the rearview mirror, she watched his face scrunch up. “Can’t it be cheeseburgers? Please, please, please!”

Danielle sighed, and in a superior tone, said, “He only wants the toy that comes with the children’s meal.”

She was nine, going on nineteen. It scared Julia sometimes, how serious and mature her daughter could be.

“You’ve got that line between your eyebrows, Mommy,” Colin observed. “Does that mean you’re thinking about it?”

To ward off further argument, Julia said, “Maybe.”

A snort sounded from the backseat. “When parents say they’re thinking about something or use the word maybe, it means no,” Danielle said. “Mom has been thinking about letting me go to art camp for a month now.”

Julia caught a glimpse of her daughter’s mutinous expression. “I am thinking about it. I haven’t ruled it out, Danielle.”

Where the camp was located and how much it cost weren’t what caused Julia’s stomach to drop. A full week away? Could Danielle handle that? Could Julia?

“I really want to go,” her daughter said quietly.

“I want to go, too!” Colin shouted. “Can I go, too, Mommy?”

“You can’t,” Danielle insisted. “It’s not for babies. Besides, you can’t even color inside the lines!”

Colin sent up a wail that rivaled a fire truck’s siren. By the time they reached the baseball diamond fifty-five minutes and one stop at the deli later, Julia had a raging headache. She barely had a chance to shift the car into Park before Colin was unbuckled and out the door.

“Hey! Come back and get your bag!” she called after him before he could get too far.

Julia had enough to tote, what with lawn chairs and a portable canopy that she kept on hand to shield them from the blazing afternoon sun. Danielle was of little help since she was carrying the bottles of water they’d picked up at the deli.

As Julia slammed the trunk closed, a slick, black sports coupe with tinted windows pulled into the parking space next to hers. It came as no surprise when Alec unfolded himself from the driver’s side of the

foreign-made two-seater. If a car could scream “no kids,” this one would.

He was still dressed in a suit, although he’d thought to loosen his tie. Mirrored, designer lenses shaded his eyes. His appearance said important. It said, I wield power. He looked like anything but a fun-loving family man.

“I’ve got my work cut out for me,” Julia muttered and forced a smile.

It didn’t help that the first words out of his mouth were a complaint. “It’s broiling out here.”

“Be thankful we’re the home team today. Fans of the visiting team will be looking straight into the sun for the entire game.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

She shrugged. “I told you to change your clothes.”