Baby and the Boss

‘What,’ she asked, her bosom swelling with indignation, ‘is wrong with my clothes? First my hair, now my dress sense. Is there anything about me you do approve of?’

An expression flared in his eyes before the ebony lashes fell in a concealing cloak. ‘Did I say I didn’t like red hair?’

‘You implied it,’ she countered, annoyed that she was acting as if it mattered to her—which, of course, it didn’t.

‘It might be better if you take those things off—the shoes,’ he added as she continued to stare up at him.

‘I knew that,’ she countered. He wouldn’t be asking her to take off anything else, would he? Reluctantly she did as he suggested. Without the benefit of heels she had sunk back down to way below his shoulder height again.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he asked when she didn’t fall into step beside him. ‘Do you want me to carry you?’ he enquired with offensive sarcasm.

‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ Her voice held an extra acid sharpness to compensate for the bizarre route her imagination had taken.

She’d have walked across hot coals before she’d have admitted her sweaty palms and shaking knees had anything to do with the image of herself being lifted effortlessly by strong masculine arms—when you considered the person the masculine arms were attached to it made her derangement all the more serious!

‘What?’ He gave her an impatient look.

‘The baby.’

In his urgency to find his brother that small but all-important detail had for a second slipped his mind. At the crisp reminder, he lifted a harassed hand to his brow. His eyes went automatically to the occupied back seat and Nia saw his shoulders square both mentally and physically.

‘Or do you intend leaving him outside in the car?’

‘If you’re not too busy scoring points, do you think you could bring in some of that paraphernalia?’ he asked, nodding to the inevitable clutter that accompanies infants as he lifted the baby carrier clear of the car.

Nia resisted the temptation of having the last word and followed him into the picture-postcard cottage.

CHAPTER THREE

‘DIDN’T you have any hint that your brother might do something like this?’ Nia couldn’t keep the edge of criticism from her voice. She pushed aside a pile of newspapers from a small armchair and sank wearily into it. ‘He looked pretty, well…desperate when I saw him.’

Jake looked across at her just as, elbow bent, she used her forearm to impatiently brush back the heavy swathe of loose curls that were tickling her face. His eyes faithfully followed the rippling red curls as they settled in place. Nia blew the last few wisps away and he turned abruptly.

Toe tapping on the floor, Nia waited for him to respond, his broad back looked angry as he brushed the dust from a pretty chintzy sofa before following her example.