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Her lips parted on a sharp inhale. “You caught me by surprise.”

“And if I gave you fair warning? Would that make a difference?”

“You can’t be serious.”

He stared at her soft mouth, remembering how it felt beneath his. The passionate tangle of her tongue with his. If Drew wasn’t snuggled in her arms, his eyes focused on Bella’s face, Blake would lean over and show her just how powerful the chemistry between them could be.

“Would you like me to demonstrate just how serious I am?”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Don’t toy with me, Blake.”

“I assure you, that’s the last thing I intend to do.” Deciding he’d pushed her to the very edge of her comfort zone, Blake got to his feet. “We’ll talk more about this later. Right now I need to change if I’m going to make it to Jeanne’s on time.”

Brain reeling from her exchange with Blake, Bella stared after him. What had she gotten herself into? Had coming to the Hamptons with Blake and Drew been a huge mistake? The last thing she’d ever expected was that Deidre would have been right about Blake. What had his kiss meant? Was she a naive fool to read anything into it at all?

Blake was single. She was a warm body. Was it as simple as that? But why would he choose her when the Hamptons were filled with far more suitable women? Maybe she shouldn’t ask questions. Maybe she should just pack and get the hell out.

Unfortunately, now that she’d given her sister the three-thousand-dollar advance on her salary, she would have to stay and be Drew’s nanny for at least two weeks.

Besides, she couldn’t just leave father and son in the lurch. No matter how often she tried to put her needs first, it was inevitable that she would put acting responsibly before self-preservation. She was trapped here. Incarcerated by her belief system.

When Blake came home from his stepsister’s dinner party, she would simply tell him that nothing like that kiss could ever happen between them ever again. Blake would understand and agree. Surely he didn’t want to complicate their working relationship. It had been a one-time misstep, incongruous and regrettable, and never to be repeated.

The baby in her arms was stirring back to full wakefulness. She carried him upstairs and found a large bedroom with pale blue walls, decorated with sailboats and furnished with a dark cherry crib, dresser and changing table. The last time she’d been here, the room had just been finished. The stuffed animals that now filled the window seat that overlooked the ocean hadn’t been here. There’d been no baskets on the floor filled with stacking cups and electronic games. No well-worn books had filled the shelves.

Now the space looked lived-in. Loved.

Bella set Drew on the floor near the basket of toys and began unpacking his clothes. A fire truck with a siren held his attention for as long as it took Bella to fill one drawer. After that he crawled to the low bookcase and began pulling out one story after another. Seeing the mess he was making, Bella left the rest of the unpacking for later and joined him on the floor.

“What should we read first?” She scanned the books.

“He’s particularly fond of Belly Button Book,” Blake said from the doorway.

Bella located the story and turned to thank him for the suggestion, but the words faltered on her lips at the sight of him in khakis, a white polo shirt and navy blazer. The casual clothes reminded her of those days last summer when they’d sat on the back porch and he’d told her about his favorite places in the Virgin Islands and about how he’d first tried cinghiale—wild boar—in a small village in Tuscany. She’d been surprised to learn that they hunted wild boar in Italy and that it was a favorite dish in the region.

He’d opened her eyes to adventures she’d never imagined when she’d been growing up on a small farm in Iowa and her dreams had expanded to include traveling beyond the borders of the U.S.

“I should be back in time to put him to bed,” Blake told her.

“Don’t feel the need to rush back. We’ll be just fine.” She lifted the baby onto her lap and opened the book. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Thank you,” Blake said.

It wasn’t until he was gone that Bella realized she’d been holding her breath. She released the air in a gusty sigh and kissed Drew on top of his head. “That daddy of yours sure ties me in knots,” she confided to the baby. “Did you see the way he kissed me this afternoon?”

Drew smacked the book with his hands and made impatient noises.

“Typical guy,” Bella teased. “When it comes to talking about feelings, you aren’t interested in hearing what a woman has to say.”

And without further delay, she began to read.

Five (#ua92daced-f5eb-51d0-bc5e-2f99ec7a4f36)

Blake cursed as he turned into the driveway of the house Jeanne and Peter had rented and spied three cars parked in front. His stepsister had lied to him. This wasn’t a quiet family dinner. It was a setup.

One of her numerous socialite friends from New York? An oil baron’s daughter from Texas? Hopefully she hadn’t fixed him up with the actress from Los Angeles she’d met the previous week. The possibilities were endless, considering Jeanne’s vast social connections and vivacious personality.

“Blake.” Jeanne flung open the door before he had a chance to ring the bell. “I’m so glad you could join us.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the living room.

Her over-the-top gaiety deepened Blake’s suspicions. She was trying too hard.

Peter met him in the living room doorway and handed him a cut-crystal tumbler with a three-finger shot of whiskey. “I told her this was a bad idea.”

Blake’s chest vibrated with a suppressed growl. “Jeanne, what’s going on?”

He loved his stepsister, but sometimes she didn’t know when to stop her well-meaning machinations. She liked the world organized to her specific standards. And most of the time she got her way.

“Look who was able to get away from New York to join us for the weekend.” Jeanne maneuvered him around Peter and into the contemporary monstrosity of a living room where Blake’s ex-wife stood, her expression a mask of delight, her eyes flaring defiance.

“Damn it, Jeanne,” he began, biting off the rest of the sentence when his stepsister gripped his hand hard.

“Don’t be mad. You two are my favorite people in the world.” Her husband made a disgusted sound behind her that she ignored. “I can’t have you refusing to be in the same room. There’s going to be harmony in this house when the baby comes.” Her lovely features wore the determined expression they all knew too well. “I mean it.”

Blake took a healthy swallow of his drink and relished the burn in his throat and chest. He concentrated on getting a handle on his annoyance before he spoke. “So, this isn’t a setup?” He thought he sounded cool and relaxed, but Peter winced, Jeanne’s eyes went wide and Vicky grew pale.

“Must you suspect everyone’s motives?”

“Not everyone’s,” he retorted smoothly, saluting his stepsister with the glass. “Just yours.”

Jeanne rolled her shoulders in an elegant shrug and nudged him toward Vicky. “Go be nice while I have Peter refresh your drink.”

Tension marred his ex-wife’s lovely features as he approached her. Stunning in a figure-hugging black dress that showed off a significant amount of cleavage, she’d obviously spent a great deal of time on her hair and makeup. If she was hoping he’d be moved that she’d gone to so much trouble for him, she was destined for disappointment.

“I don’t need to ask how you’ve been,” she murmured. “You look wonderful.”

“Fatherhood agrees with me.”

“I knew it would.”

The flow of conversation was interrupted when Peter handed him a tumbler of scotch. When they began again, Vicky changed the topic to recent gossip about their friends. She didn’t ask after Drew. Eight months ago this would have annoyed Blake. In the months since she’d left, he’d grudgingly accepted that he’d been too blinded by his desire to be a parent to realize his wife didn’t share his enthusiasm. In the week after they’d brought their son home from the hospital, Vicky hadn’t held the baby more than a half dozen times, each for less than ten minutes. Pity he hadn’t recognized her lack of maternal instinct earlier. It would have saved them both a great deal of heartache.

“I heard that your play closed,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear it didn’t work out.”

She shrugged. “There will be others.”

Blake spied telltale signs of anxiety in the lines bracketing her mouth. “I thought you were very good.”

“You saw it?”