Baby Wishes And Bachelor Kisses

Bethany smiled. “At that age very few babies will let you feed them. They want to do it all themselves. The best solution is to give them a few soft bites of food at a time and stay out of it. They’ve finally worked out what their fingers are for, and they can’t wait to use them at every opportunity.”

He smiled back, and the tiredness lifted from his face, which positively glowed with the light of this new information. It came to her that Nicholas was a man who enjoyed learning things and wasn’t too proud to let a woman teach him, provided he was sure she knew what she was talking about. The insight startled her for an instant as she became aware of a temporary bond stretching between them, forged by their concern for this adorable baby. Bethany would give a lot not to have to break that bond by revealing the real reason for her visit.

Knowing it was foolish, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, at least not for the moment. She told herself it was for the baby’s sake, but it wasn’t the whole truth. She enjoyed the way Nicholas was looking at her, as if she was some kind of miracle worker. After her recent experience with her fiancé, Alexander Kouros, who had dumped her as soon as he discovered she couldn’t have his children, it felt good to have a man look at her as if she was special and wonderful. It would change as soon as Nicholas knew why she was here, but for now it felt uncommonly good.

“You have a knack for this,” he told her, his rich baritone voice admiring. “It never occurred to me that her howls were a declaration of independence.”

“It wouldn’t unless you know what to expect,” she assured him. Working at the children’s shelter, as well as helping to bring up her foster brothers and sisters, she’d had more than the usual amount of practice for her age. It made the knowledge that she could never use her experience to mother her own child all the more painful.

As she felt her eyes start to swim, she blinked furiously. She had promised herself she wasn’t going to let this beat her. “There’s something else we can try. Do you have any ripe bananas?”

He looked startled but moved toward the refrigerator where a well-filled fruit bowl was perched as if it had been shoved there out of harm’s way. “Will this do?”

Bethany accepted the golden fruit, feeing it yield to her exploratory squeeze. “Perfect.” She peeled half the fruit, broke off two small chunks and placed them in Maree’s plastic bowl. “Here you go, kitten. Try these for size.”

With another gurgling “ah, ah, ah” sound, the baby pincered one of the chunks and dropped it onto the pile of cold spinach. Bethany’s flickering glance caught Nicholas’s pained wince, but he wisely said nothing. Moments later Maree rescued the banana and poked it into her mouth, gnawing on it contentedly.

Bethany levered herself up from her kneeling position beside the high chair. “The best thing we can do is leave her to eat the banana by herself. Or not as she chooses.”

“She won’t choke or anything?”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to leave the room. Just get on with a few chores and keep your eye on her progress, but let her make most of the running. As soon as she starts playing with the food, lift her down and wait until the next mealtime. It helps not to let her graze between meals. That way she’ll be hungry for what’s on the menu next time around.”

“You are truly amazing. Are you sure you’re real and not some kind of fairy godmother?” he asked, an appreciative light dancing in his pewter gaze. It made the years peel away so she got a momentary glimpse of the boy he must have been—handsome, devilish and irresistibly attractive. All the qualities were still there, but packaged in a body that was so undeniably male that she felt a surge of involuntary response.

What would it be like to be on the receiving end of a personal compliment from this man, she found herself wondering. She had a feeling he wouldn’t bestow them idly, but neither would he withhold them if he thought they were genuinely deserved. The thought brought a flush of color to her cheeks, and she turned to watch Maree so he wouldn’t see his effect on her.

Her reaction was as inappropriate as it was unexpected, and she tried to tell herself it was probably no more than a rebound thing. She had been hurt by Alexander. In his gratitude, Nicholas was being charming to her. He was also the most attractive man she’d met in a long time. It wasn’t hard to see why the combination should so disturb her.

If she let it. She decided to keep the conversation on neutral ground. “All babies go through this stage. They’re learning how to use their bodies and control their world, which starts with trying to control their parents. I’m sure Maree’s crying has dragged her mother out in the middle of the night plenty of times lately. It’s a kind of test to see if the baby can make her mother respond.”

There was a long silence punctuated only by the sound of the baby playing with the banana. “I’m afraid Maree hasn’t had that luxury. Her mother and father were killed seven months ago. I’m the only relative she has left.”

Her gaze flew from the gurgling child to the man standing behind the high chair. He looked as if he was carved from stone but his eyes held a bleakness which tore at her. Her admiration of him soared, even as she felt her heart go out to him in his personal tragedy. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“You didn’t read the article in the local paper?”

She shook her head, and a frown of puzzlement etched his brow as if he had expected her to know and couldn’t understand why she didn’t. Was he mixing her up with another writer? The only way she could find out was by confessing her real purpose and now didn’t seem like the right time. “I’m afraid not. If you’d rather I went away and came back some other time.” She was gathering up her bag as she spoke.

His hand on her arm stayed her. “You don’t have to leave. It still hurts to think about, but I’ve had time to come to terms with what happened.”

The heat of his touch sent awareness flashing through her, as incandescent as a signal flare. Her eyes widened. Had Nicholas felt it, too? With an effort she met his eyes and made herself ask, “Was it an accident?”

He nodded. “There was a signal failure at a railway crossing not far from here. My brother and sister-in-law were driving across when an express train slammed into their car without any warning. Maree was the only survivor because she was strapped into a baby seat. Even then, given the state of the car, it was a miracle she survived. There wasn’t a scratch on her.”

This time when her eyes blurred she made no attempt to conceal it from him. “What a terrible tragedy.”

“It was, but all we can do is go on.”

“As you’re doing with your little niece?”

He nodded. “I’m all she has in the world, and I mean to give her the best upbringing I possibly can.”

The baby, her cheeks bulging with bananas, looked the picture of health and happiness as she bounced up and down in her high chair. Apart from the recent adornment of pureed spinach, she was spotlessly clean, dressed in a gorgeous romper suit decorated in teddy bears, with a pink ribbon adorning one of her baby curls.

She was in far better condition than her uncle, Bethany decided. Nicholas looked as if he had thrown his pants on in haste and forgotten—or never had time—to shave this morning. A bluish tinge darkened the strong line of his jaw, giving him a rugged, almost-piratical appearance which was more appealing than it had any right to be. The fatigue darkening his eyes only added to his masculine appeal, and to her horror, Bethany found herself wishing she could do something to help.

This would never do. She was here for one purpose and one only, to persuade him to let her write about the Frakes Baby House. But how could she come out and say so now, when he had just revealed the depths of a personal tragedy far greater than she had anticipated?

She couldn’t, she decided. Her hand closed resolutely around her bag. “I should go. The interview can wait until another time.”

“Dammit, you needn’t start feeling sorry for me,” he growled, startling her into freezing where she stood. “I’ve had enough of that from my neighbors around here. They act as if Maree and I have a contagious disease called tragedy. When you walked in knowing nothing about out situation, you treated us just like anybody else and it was like a breath of fresh air. At least stay and have a cup of coffee with me. You said yourself the best thing to do is keep busy in the kitchen while Maree feeds herself.”

Bethany gave a wan smile. “All right, one cup of coffee. But only if it’s no trouble.”

“After the morning I’ve had, coffee isn’t any trouble, it’s a medical necessity,” he assured her. “How do you take yours?”

“Black with one sugar,” she supplied, settling herself on a high stool next to a breakfast counter. It was cluttered with the remains of what looked like his breakfast, and she smiled wryly at the sight of an open packet of chocolate flavored cereal, a milk carton and a plastic bowl, the twin of the one Maree was using. Evidently Nicholas didn’t believe in healthy breakfasts, for himself, anyway.

As he spooned coffee into the pot, he looked up in time to catch her smile. “What?”

“No wonder you look so tired if you’re existing on this stuff,” she observed.

He shrugged. “Who has time to cook?”

She surprised herself by saying, “If you keep an eye on the baby, I’ll make you an omelette that will make your mouth water.”

His mouth looked as if it was watering at the very idea. His sweeping gesture took in the refrigerator and stove. “Be my guest. Everything you’re likely to need is here.”

He moved aside to let her take over the food preparation area, and she surveyed the gleaming modern stove with apprehension. She must be crazy letting a misguided sense of compassion drive her to volunteer for this. Or was she simply delaying the moment when she had to disillusion him by admitting why she was really here?

Whatever the reason, it was too late to back out now. Nicholas had thrown himself into a comfortable-looking oversize leather chair which flanked the stone fireplace. He watched with interest as she whipped up eggs and milk, shredded cheese and added a few leaves of parsley from a pot growing on the windowsill, then set the mixture sizzling in a large cast-iron pan.

It did smell good, she thought with a flush of pride, as she placed a plate on a small table beside him a few minutes later. He eyed the golden creation hungrily. “You really are a miracle worker if you cook as well as you charm babies.”

A perverse streak of pride prevented her from admitting that an omelette was the only thing she could cook, other than baby food. Her brother Sam called her the “Thrill Griller” because he never knew what was going to come out of her culinary efforts. More often than not it was a charred mess. In defiance, to avoid being the butt of any more family jokes whenever it was her turn to cook dinner, she had gritted her teeth and mastered the art of making omelettes. Served with a salad, her cheese omelette could pass any test.

It was doing so now, she saw as Nicholas proceeded to demolish the six egg treat with total disdain for the risk to his arteries from all that cholesterol. She had loaded the omelette with extra cheese since he looked as if he could use the fuel. “This is good,” he mumbled around a forkful of food. He sounded so much like Maree with her banana that Bethany had to smother a laugh. She didn’t think he would appreciate the comparison.

To distract herself while he ate, she tidied up the remains of the baby’s meal then draped a towel over her shoulder and lifted Maree out of the high chair, resting her against the towel. Several hearty burps later, one of which she would swear hadn’t come from the baby, Bethany handed Maree to her surrogate father. “Both of you look disgustingly satisfied,” she observed, feeing an unwilling frisson of pleasure at her own part in the achievement.

Nicholas began to jiggle Maree on his knee, and the baby chortled happily. “I’d say we’re both in luck with our fairy godmother, don’t you agree, Mareedle-deedle-dumpling?” The baby gurgled what sounded like agreement. “There, you see? The expert in fairy godmothers agrees with me.”

Bethany felt an ache so sharp and fierce that at first she didn’t connect it with the sight of the big man cradling the baby against the hard wall of his bare chest. But nothing else could explain the intensity of the pain which knifed through her. It had to be the image of Maree’s dark head nestled in the angle between Nicholas’s powerful jaw and his chest. He rested one hand lightly against Maree’s back while the other cupped her chubby hips as if holding a baby was the most natural thing in the world to him.

Bethany was gripped by a need so powerful it threatened her breathing. She turned away and forced herself to say around a betraying huskiness, “I’ll finish making the coffee.”

The simple act of locating cups and pouring the brewed coffee into them helped to anchor her so that by the time she turned to ask Nicholas how he preferred his coffee, her hands no longer trembled.