The Baby Deal

“We’ll watch him for a while.” Juliana sank onto the bed between his pillow and kicked-away sheets and motioned to the monitor.

Her face glowed in the pale moonlight spilling from the window opposite the bed. Middle of the night, yet in tailored pajamas and robe, she exuded classiness.

If he’d known a woman would be in his bed, he might have requested silk sheets. What a flat-out disgrace it wasn’t that kind of late-night party. He snapped on the bedside light. No point in maintaining ambiance.

As he moved away from the bed, his toes curled against the hardwood floor. It was cold, but the carpet only stuck out about a foot around the bed frame. With all the hands-off Dr. Cane had been throwing around, it seemed like he should keep a respectable distance from the consultant in his bed.

At least until he figured out how to bridge it.

“All these books you read to learn about babies. You read those recently?” he asked.

The whole concept of ignoring a crying baby stuck in his craw. If something needed attention, you handled it. But he was paying for expert advice. How much sense did it make to second-guess the doctor?

“In the last few years,” she said.

“So, not as preparation for this job.”

“I reread some on the plane. You hired me to teach you to be a father. Caring for a baby is part of that but it’s not my primary field of expertise. Child-rearing as a whole is.”

“I know.” Mikey was still sobbing with no signs of stopping. Every muscle in Shay’s body stood tensed, ready to spring toward the door, but she remained calm, grounded. He’d missed having ready access to that strength. “I read your dissertation.”

Juliana jerked her gaze away from the monitor to stare at him. “You did? All of it?”

“You think I called you up for old times’ sake? I did my research.”

“I’m just surprised. It’s dry, pure academics. Most people would fall asleep after two paragraphs.”

“I didn’t. You wrote it. I was always fascinated by your mind.”

She processed that, blank-faced. While he often blurted out exactly what was on his mind without restriction, she spoke very carefully, then and now. “You can’t still find me interesting.”

“Yet I do.” And he grew more interested by the minute.

She’d always turned him on but this grown-up version of Juliana was something else. A challenge and a half. What was it going to take to break through her resolve to keep things professional between them?

The only way to find out was to rattle her some more and see what was what.

They stared at each other for a long time and he realized his muscles had relaxed. Mikey was still crying but intermittently. The restless urge to move had stabilized and for the first time since the explosion, he didn’t want to go climb something or fly something or jump off something to beat back the weight of life.

“Hey, Ju, do you still play the violin?” The question flew from his mouth in hopes of keeping her in his bed for a while longer. He wanted to talk some more. And he liked the view.

“No. I haven’t played since college.”

The forlorn note in her voice tightened his chest. He’d loved listening to her play with the campus chamber group, could still see her in his mind, bow raised, her elation flying through the air with the notes. “You were good. Why did you quit?”

She shrugged. “Busy. It’s hard to take time for something frivolous when you have so much going on.”

Somehow he’d moved toward the bed, knees bumping the mattress. Since he was already here, he might as well sit. “But you loved playing. If you love it, it’s not frivolous.”

No wonder she seemed so unhappy—she’d stopped letting the music feed her soul.

With a wry smile, she lay back against his pillow and a flash of memory overlaid the present—one of her reclined exactly like that, but naked, eyes hot with anticipation as she waited for him.

“Says the man who builds spaceships in his spare time. Not everyone gets to do whatever they want with their life.”

And with that bucket of cold water, the memory extinguished. Yes, he was lucky to get to follow his passion. A passion that had killed the most important people in his life. Juliana had once been on that list and all of a sudden, the list felt really blank.

“What would you be if you could be anything?”

“A mom,” she said softly. “Not in the cards.”

“Your ex didn’t want children?”

He shifted, brushing a hand across her leg accidentally-on-purpose. She jolted as if she’d taken a slug to the torso.

“You knew I’d been married?”

After she’d agreed to help him, a discreet P.I. out of Dallas had done exhaustive research on her and Eric Whittaker, the accountant she’d been married to for three years. “I came across it.”

Her ex was a dweeb with vacant eyes, who’d obviously sucked in bed if Shay’s casual touch caused such a visible reaction. If Mikey took a few days to adjust, this late-night-rendezvous deal might work in his favor. He could do some more rattling. A hot and thick flood drained into his lower half at the thought of the reaction he might get with a few better-placed touches.

She sighed with a heavy lift of her chest. “He wanted children. We tried the natural way, then the artificial way. Science isn’t good enough to overcome the defects of nature.”

“I’m sorry. That’s when you read all those baby books, isn’t it?” Her tight nod said everything she didn’t. “Is it hard to be here, with Mikey?”

Surprise flitted across her face. “I’m a professional. I’ll do my job.”

“Hey.” He leaned forward and took her hand. She’d extended the olive branch of friendship and he’d done nowhere near enough to pick it up. Of course, he didn’t intend to stop there, but it was a good start. “I’m asking because you interest me. Not because I think you’ll shirk your responsibilities.”

Some pretty major stuff had happened in her life. Rattling his way past the professional barrier she’d erected was going to be harder than he’d expected. But he’d find a way.

She looked down at their joined fingers and faked a yawn. “Mikey’s asleep. Good night.”

Then she slipped away.

Three

Mikey’s pediatrician diagnosed him with reflux, as Juliana had suspected he would. Funny how being right did little to boost her energy or her mood. Cry-it-out had only worked the first night. A week later, the reflux medicine and several different kinds of formula hadn’t worked at all. Since Maria worked only during the day and Shay hadn’t specified his nanny requirements, they split nighttime baby duty.

Fuzzily, she peered at the hands of the elephant clock on the nursery wall. 5:00 a.m. or 5:00 p.m.? A glance at the dark window answered the question. Did it matter? Time ceased to have any meaning when on call every day. She patted the screaming bundle of baby propped up on her shoulder. He’d been crying for nearly an hour.

How had Donna done this, over and over, and still functioned?

Regardless of whose turn it was, Mikey never smiled, or gurgled or did any cute baby things. Regardless of who claimed to be an expert, the result was the same. Failure.

Wiggling baby woke her. She blinked hair out of her eyes and sucked in a breath at the stab of pain through her neck and shoulders. Daylight poured through the nursery window, washing over the cartoon giraffes, lions, hippos and zebras painted on the walls. Mikey peered up at her from a nest of blankets across her thighs, uncharacteristically quiet.

She’d fallen asleep in the rocking chair with an unsecured five-month-old baby on her lap. He could have rolled off or she might have flipped him off accidentally. His head could have gotten stuck between the cushions.