Getting Off Easy

by Erin Nicholas

  “Why would that have mattered?” Lexi asked. “Have you guys been sleeping together this whole time?”

  James shook his head. “We haven’t slept together at all. Yet.”

  “Has she been scaring women off?” Lexi asked with a little devious smile. “I like that. Has she been coming over to borrow a cup of sugar and then telling the women that you have an STD or something?”

  James lifted a brow. “No, she has not. And that’s very specific.”

  “It would be a great plan,” Lexi said, lifting a shoulder. “I would have totally done something like that to women Caleb was with, given the chance.”

  Caleb coughed and shifted on the sofa.

  Caleb and Lexi had been “friends” who helped each other out with childcare while Caleb worked and Lexi had been going to nursing school. Caleb hadn’t been serious about any other woman in the time he’d known Lexi, but he’d tried to convince himself that she was too young for him and too good for him and not interested in him, and he’d spent some time with other women. Just never around Lexi.

  “Well, no, Harper hasn’t been scaring any women off. I haven’t…” James cleared his throat. But what the hell? What was the harm in admitting this? “I haven’t brought any women home since she moved in.”

  “You haven’t brought any women here since she moved in,” Logan said. “Or you haven’t been with any women since the professor moved in?”

  “Both.”

  “You haven’t slept with any women since Harper moved in,” Logan said one more time.

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  James spun to find Harper standing in the doorway again.

  And he rolled his eyes. Logan had seen her there and had made that clarification so she would hear it.

  James wasn’t sure how to feel about her knowing it now. Because it seemed like an overreaction to what had been going on between them? Maybe. What had been going on between them had been mostly nothing for the first few months. But even from the beginning, it had seemed like something. And he honestly just hadn’t had a strong enough craving for anyone else. He’d kicked himself about it for two months. He’d called himself ridiculous. He’d forced himself to hit on a few girls at the club. But when it came to the end of the night and the want-to-come-back-to-my-place moment, he hadn’t been able to say the words.

  Now, though, looking at Harper with her hair mussed, a little bit of worry and a lot of surprise crinkling the corners of her eyes, and the baby on her shoulder, he realized he didn’t regret a thing.

  “Yeah, really,” he said with a shrug.

  “That’s…”

  “I know,” he agreed.

  Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Logan said, “So how are you planning to find them?”

  “Them who?” Harper asked.

  “The two or three women who could be the little man’s mom,” Logan said with a grin.

  He was enjoying the fact that James was going to have to play detective to find the women he’d been with in the window of time the baby could have been conceived. James was going to tell Dana, Logan’s wife, on him. Logan had been as much a playboy as James ever was.

  “You have it narrowed down to two or three?” Harper asked.

  She’d thought it might be more? For some reason that bugged him.

  He hadn’t brought any women home during the time he’d lived across from her.

  “Would it have been better if there was just one, who I was really serious about?” he asked crossly.

  She blinked at him, probably surprised that he’d been curt with her. He’d never been curt with her before. But honestly, did she want him to have had a serious relationship with another woman that could turn into something more now that there was a baby in the picture? Would this all be better if there was an ex that he might want to rekindle things with if they were going to co-parent?

  “Uh, no,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I guess not.”

  The uh was a telltale sign. The professor with a doctorate in languages did not say, “uh.” He nodded. “There’s been no one serious in a really long time. And certainly not in the past year or so. I’ve gone out with a few women, yes, but I’ve been busy doing other things, too, Professor. So yeah, we’ve got a couple of women to track down and talk to.”

  She was watching him with wide eyes. “We?”

  “Yeah, we. You’re coming with me.” He’d just made that decision.

  “I am?” But she didn’t look shocked. She looked intrigued.

  “Yes. We’re going to need passion and determination along with common sense and rational thinking to find this woman and get to the bottom of what’s going on once and for all.”

  “You need me along for the common sense?”

  “Oh, no, you’re the passion and determination. I’ll be there for the rational thinking,” he said.

  “You think I’ve got passion and determination about this?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “But you can be rational?”

  “Of course. I don’t have feelings for these women.”

  “But I do?”

  He gave her a slow smile. “I think maybe you do, yeah.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Because of the baby. I don’t approve of her, whoever she is, just dropping him off on a doorstep.”

  That wasn’t a denial of feeling passionate.

  James nodded. “Sure. Protectiveness and possessiveness… of the baby.”

  Harper looked at him for a long moment. Then she said, “Okay. Maybe I should go along.”

  She should go along. They were in this together. He wanted her there to help ask the important questions, to see that he truly wasn’t emotional about any of these women, and maybe to get a little peek into his life as they searched for this woman. Going back to the places where he’d met these ladies would show Harper a view of him outside his apartment and the landing between their places. And he suddenly wanted her to have that.

  He was hoping to get a bigger view of her life and interests as well.

  “And we need to stop referring to him as the baby,” she said.

  James couldn’t hide his huge grin. He’d known it. “I agree. What should we name him?”

  “Well, you know how I feel about names meaning something,” Harper said.

  He nodded. “I do.”

  “So his name should be meaningful. Something about him, or his situation, or this whole adventure.”

  James pretended to be thinking. “This is big. What means ‘found by a handsome, sexy, musically gifted firefighter who learns to balance his heroic career and active social life with becoming an overnight super dad?”

  Harper lifted a brow. “Are you done?”

  He shrugged. “I think that describes this kid’s situation, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “That means the perfect name for him is Isaac.”

  James was surprised that she’d come up with that so quickly. Though he knew he probably shouldn’t have been. “What does Isaac mean, Professor?” he asked.

  She gave him a mischievous smile. “It means, ‘God laughed.’”

  Lexi, Caleb, and Logan snorted. James felt himself fall a little bit in love with her.

  “I like it,” he said. He looked at the baby boy. “Isaac it is.”

  Harper looked immensely pleased.

  He couldn’t wait to get her out on their date tomorrow night.

  Was it strange to think of looking for the woman he might have knocked up in a one-night stand as dates with Harper? Maybe. But he was looking forward to them anyway.

  5

  She was definitely going to go along to find this woman with James.

  Not because she wanted to see her in person and see just what kind of woman was James Reynaud’s type, or because she wanted to confront this woman about how she could just abandon her baby in a basket. Not because she felt a stupid need to see James and this woman together to gauge if there maybe was something there besid
es a physical attraction that had lasted, apparently, only one night. Not because she was enough of a control freak to want to be sure James asked all the right questions. Not because she thought she was exceptionally good at reading people and thought she could maybe determine how attached or unattached this woman really was to this baby that Harper was starting to feel very attached to. Not because…

  She was full of crap. It was because of all those reasons. And because she wanted to see James outside of this apartment and the landing in between their places. Their relationship existed inside a bubble that encompassed two apartments and a ten-foot stretch of balcony between them. She wanted to see him out in his world. She had no doubt that the search for these women would take her into some of his favorite places. It wasn’t as if he were picking women up in places he never went or enjoyed. She was certain at least one of them was someone he’d met at the club he played in on the weekends, and she suddenly wanted to see that club.

  This was all probably a really bad idea.

  They’d be looking for the woman he had a baby with. They’d be meeting women he’d slept with. Did she really want to do that?

  No.

  Still, Harper spun in front of her mirror in a new dress. A. New. Dress.

  She never bought dresses like this. She wore jackets and skirts to work, professional dresses, slacks. She had a sundress or two for summertime in Louisiana, of course. She was going to need to get more of those because she’d only been here for one summer, and holy hell, the fewer clothes the better down here in the devil’s armpit. But she didn’t have date dresses. Because she didn’t go on dates.

  “You’re not going on a date now either,” she told herself firmly.

  She and James were going out to a restaurant together tonight because the maybe-baby-mama was a waitress at this particular establishment. They were going to a restaurant together because they were trying to figure out if him having sex with this woman had resulted in a sweet baby boy. Because he had slept with this woman. That part was certain.

  Her breath caught as she heard the knock on her door. That had to be James.

  Not. A. Date.

  But her stupid stuttering heart rate didn’t quite believe it.

  She pulled the door open.

  “I don’t suppose you know anything about—”

  James had clearly prepared to greet her at the door the way he had so many other times. But he broke off midsentence. His gaze traveled over her. Head to toe. Twice.

  “Damn,” he finally said gruffly.

  “Stop it.” Him looking at her like that was doing nothing to slow her heart rate or convince her imagination that this wasn’t what it appeared to be. A date.

  She stepped out and pulled the door shut behind her.

  “Seriously,” he said, backing up only enough so that she could turn to lock her door. He didn’t give her much space at all. “You look amazing.”

  See, that made it seem like a date, too.

  “Is everything okay with Isaac?”

  James had dropped him off with Bea just before coming over to get Harper. She’d been tempted to go along. He’d invited her. She’d wanted to. She’d wanted to meet Bea and be there to help give instructions for the baby’s care. But that had been an overreaction. Bea was watching him because they were on their way to play Sherlock Holmes for the night and try to find his mom. He wasn’t theirs. At least, he wasn’t hers. She wasn’t his mom. There was no reason for her to give Bea instructions. Besides, Bea was the grandmother of six. She’d not only helped raise some of those kids, but she’d raised three of her own and now babysat for several of the parents in the support group. She knew far more about babies—even this one—than Harper ever would.

  Harper was really only a babysitter herself. A brand-new-to-all-of-this one, as a matter of fact.

  Plus dropping the baby off together would have also made this feel like they were in a relationship and going on a date rather than what it was—a mission.

  “Everything is great. And you look amazing,” James repeated.

  He did, too. He was dressed in dark jeans and a dark gray button-up shirt. It was untucked, and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and he looked sexy and relaxed and confident, and she wanted to lick the V of skin where the top two buttons were unfastened.

  Finally, Harper made eye contact. “Thank you.”

  “Really. You don’t look professor-y or librarian-y at all tonight.”

  “Those are not actual adjectives.” It seemed easier to talk grammar than to talk about how his compliment made her feel.

  “Sure they are. They have ‘y’ on the end and are describing a noun. You.”

  She couldn’t help her little smile even as she shook her head. “That doesn’t make them an adjective.”

  “Not sure you’re right about that.”

  “What’s that mean, anyway?” she asked, knowing from experience that these types of “arguments” were without end or victory with James. “It’s a good thing that I don’t look like I usually do? And sometimes I look like a librarian?”

  “Oh, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” he told her, putting a hand on her lower back and steering her toward the steps. “Hot professor and naughty librarian totally work for me. But sweet girl-next-door does, too.”

  Harper stopped at the top of the stairs. She turned to him. “This isn’t a date.”

  “I wasn’t sure, either. Until I saw you.”

  Her heart flipped. In part, due to his words but even more because of the look in his eyes. It was hot, but there was also a touch of affection there.

  “It’s the hair, yes?” she asked, lifting a hand to touch the curls around her face.

  She shouldn’t have worn it down. She definitely shouldn’t have curled it.

  James lifted a hand and twisted one of those curls around his index finger. “Yeah. It’s the hair.”

  “I had my straightener heated up but made a last-minute change to go with the curling iron instead.”

  “Well, don’t beat yourself up, Professor. The curls are just going to get you an extra dance and a kiss or two. Something sweet like that. Nothing too dirty.”

  “Oh.” She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She knew she shouldn’t think of this as a date. She should discourage dancing, and they definitely shouldn’t kiss. This was about finding a woman who he’d done that—and a hell of a lot more—with a few months ago. It seemed totally inappropriate to want this outing to end with Harper naked in his bed. His obvious casual approach to sex and “dating” was why they were in this situation.

  “Of course, the legs and breasts are a whole other thing.”

  She looked down. The dress had a low neckline, but it didn’t really show cleavage. It did hit midthigh, though. “What?”

  He grinned. “It’s always the legs. Especially in those suit things.”

  “Oh.” She felt a little warm. “I didn’t know that.”

  “And your ass.” He checked out her skirt again.

  This one flared slightly and would swirl if they danced. Not that they were going to dance.

  “This one doesn’t show off your sweet ass as much as those sexy professor skirts do, but I do like your boobs in this. Your jackets cover those up.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “But the hair is the thing making me think you’re thinking of this differently.”

  “I’m not,” she tried to protest.

  “You did your hair for me, Professor.” His voice was low, and his smile was far too knowing.

  She pressed her lips together. Yeah, she had. Dammit.

  “Sorry.”

  He looked puzzled and amused. “Don’t be sorry.”

  “It makes this all the more complicated.”

  “What does?”

  “Us. Our feelings. Anything with… us.” She was very rarely at a loss for words, and this was a bad time to not be able to express herself clearly.

  James shook his head. “I disagree. Th
is. Us. Makes everything easier. You always make everything easier.”

  “We might be meeting the baby’s mom tonight,” she said softly. She was hopeful that would be the case. She was also scared of it. Because that would introduce another woman into this situation. A woman who had every right to be there. It was selfish and wrong of her, but Harper didn’t really want that.

  She wanted James and the baby to herself.

  “We might be,” he agreed. Then he frowned. “And we’ll be getting some fucking answers from her.” He lifted a hand and cupped Harper’s face. “But that’s it. I mean, obviously, she’ll get to have as much to do with him as she wants, but she’s not moving in here. I’m not taking her on any dates. Nothing like that.”

  Harper nodded. “Okay.”

  This was all such a bad idea. She was getting way too involved in something she should be steering way clear of.

  Instead, she lifted up on tiptoe and kissed his jaw. Then, with him too surprised to do anything else, she took his hand and started down the steps.

  They walked the few blocks to the restaurant. They didn’t really talk. The busy sidewalks of the Quarter made it difficult, and it was also unnecessary. They both knew where they were headed and why. They didn’t have a plan, exactly. How did you plan for something like this? But they did hold hands the whole way.

  “This is it,” James said as they stopped in front of the restaurant.

  It was like so many others in the French Quarter. It had long, tall windows, many of which were open to the night air. The front doors of the building were also open, and a chalkboard sign sat on the sidewalk in front proclaiming the evening’s specialty was shrimp and spicy orzo. Gas lanterns hung on the outside bricks of the building, and clusters of people wove along the narrow sidewalks, pausing at the corner to let cars and the occasional carriage pass. Music from the streets floated on the air, spiced with cayenne and hickory, and laughter and conversation surrounded them.

  The restaurant was busy. People stood around the bar, two deep, and all the tables were full. Harper took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  James nodded and stepped back to let her go in first.

  She stepped through the doorway. A woman at the hostess stand gave her a smile. “Hi. How many?”