by Joss Wood
“I’m sorry, Linc, we shouldn’t have come here.” Tate heard her words running together and tried to slow down. “We’ll get out of your hair now.”
Linc leaned forward and placed his muscular forearms on his thighs, his eyes penetrating. “Take a breath, Tate. Sit down, drink your coffee and let’s talk this through.”
“I should let you go back to work.”
“My day is already shot,” he admitted. “Tell me what happened.”
Tate gave him a quick rundown of her day, and when she was finished, Linc asked, “Where’s the note she left you?”
Too tired to argue, she told him where to find it and sat down with Ellie propped on her lap. Tate took her little hand in hers and thought that Ellie was amazingly docile for a child that had been dumped with a stranger.
“So, though this note is short on details it seems to imply that you now get to call the shots with regard to Ellie,” Linc said.
“Imply being the operative word,” Tate bitterly replied. “And what am I supposed to do with her? Look after her? Place her in foster care? Give her up for adoption?”
“I don’t think you have the legal right to do the last two,” Linc said, and she saw the anger burning in his eyes. “But why couldn’t she just do any of this herself? Why involve you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know about Ellie until I got to the diner. I haven’t seen Kari for two years.” Tate rubbed her thumb gently over the back of Ellie’s hand. “And that meeting was tense.”
“Why?”
She started to tell him that they’d had a huge fight because Kari abandoned her son. Tate had been so incensed at her cousin’s blasé attitude toward Shaw that she’d stopped communicating with her. Tate noticed Linc’s hard eyes and knew that he wouldn’t appreciate, and didn’t need, her defending his son. Linc Ballantyne was obviously very capable at fighting his own battles.
“Family stuff.” Tate eventually pushed the short explanation out.
Linc linked his hands together and leaned back, placing his ankle on his knee and tapping the sheaf of papers balanced on his thigh. “So, what are you going to do?”
Tate forced herself to think. “Right now, I suppose I need to find us a place to stay—”
“Whoa! You’re homeless, too?”
Tate glared at him and held up her hand in an indignant gesture. “Hold on, hotshot, don’t jump to conclusions. I’m a travel presenter, out of the country for most of the year, so I live out of hotel rooms. Once a year, I get a long vacation, and I came back to New York to meet with my producers. I was planning to find a hotel for a night or two, until I decided where I wanted to spend my vacation. I might have to rethink leaving New York now, since I have Ellie with me.”
“Do you have enough cash? She needs diapers and clothes and...stuff.”
Stuff. Tate wrinkled her nose. How unhelpful.
She did have enough money. Her living and travel expenses were paid for by the production company, so her hefty salary went straight into her savings account. Kari was a flake, but she wasn’t. “Yes.”
“You don’t seem like you have much experience with babies.”
“Or any,” Tate replied self deprecatingly. “I’ll buy a book,” she added.
“God.” Linc muttered, shaking his head. “Do you know how to change a diaper at least?”
“I’m sure I can figure it out,” Tate huffed.
Linc rubbed the back of his strong neck, above the patch of tanned skin between the collar of his shirt and his hair. It was the dead of winter—why was he tan? And why did she feel the insane urge to taste his skin?
“Are you going to call Child Services and place her into foster care?”
It took Tate a moment to pull her attention back to the conversation...Ellie and what to do with her. Focus, Harper.
Tate looked at Linc and saw the wariness in his eyes and realized that this was a test, that this moment would make him form an opinion of her that wouldn’t be easy to change. Wariness and distrust would slide into contempt.
Strangely, she felt the need not to disappoint him, since she felt like Harper women had disappointed him enough already.
This wasn’t about him, she chastised herself. It was about Ellie and what was best for her, so Tate tried to imagine how she would feel watching a Child Services officer walking away with Ellie, and she shook her head. “No, I can’t do that.”
Tate saw, but ignored, the flash of relief that crossed Linc’s face.
“I’m on vacation, and I can look after Ellie as well as any foster mother could, once I figure out the basics.” She sighed. “I think I need to consult a lawyer and find out whether I can, temporarily, keep her.”
He nodded but remained silent.
“Just so you know, I intend to track Kari down and make her face the consequences of her actions. I want her to make the decision to give Ellie up for adoption, not me,” Tate added.
“That can be arranged.” Linc held her eyes, and in that instant she saw the edgy businessman, the man who made hard, complicated decisions on six continents.
“What do you mean?”
“My best friend owns a security company, but he started out as a private investigator. He tracked down Kari the last time she skipped town. I’m sure he could do it again.” Linc’s words were as hard as diamonds and twice as cold. Oh, her sister had obviously done a number on this man’s head. Dammit, Kari.
“I’ll think about hiring a PI. But right now I just need to get us settled for the night and meet with a lawyer.”
“I’ll get Amy, my assistant, to find someone who specializes in family law,” Linc said, leaning sideways to pull his ultrathin phone out of his pants pocket.
Tate started to protest but snapped her mouth closed when he issued terse instructions into the phone. God, he sure didn’t waste time and was clearly a take-charge type of guy. Would he be like that in bed? Of course he would be; he’d be all “do this” or “do that,” and any woman alive would jump to be under his command. Including her. Tate knew, instinctively, that the pleasure he’d give her would be worth any amount of bossiness...
Someone slap me, please, Tate thought. Right...well, Linc wasn’t going to take charge of her...in or out of the bedroom.
Tate waited for him to finish his conversation, intending to tell him exactly that. Okay, she might be in his house, having run to him as Kari suggested, but it wasn’t his job to fix this.
“No, I am not going to tell you why,” Linc spoke into his phone, exasperated. “Jeez, Amy, you don’t need to know everything about everybody. Concentrate on your wedding arrangements or, better yet, do some work.”
Linc snapped the phone closed and tapped it against his thigh. “I share an assistant with my brother Beck and, unfortunately, she is scary efficient, which leaves her far too much time to meddle in our lives.”
Tate nodded, thinking that his crooked smile was charming, the grudging affection she heard in his voice endearing. She should go, she really should. But it was so nice in this warm house, and looking at Linc wasn’t a hardship. Tate yawned, fighting the urge to close her eyes. Jet lag and having her life flipped on its head was not a great combination.
Tate fought her tiredness, decided that it was time to leave and was about to stand when she heard the sound of feet on the wooden stairs, the piping voice of a little boy and the measured tones of an older woman. Shaw was home, she thought. Both excited and nervous to meet her nephew, Tate shot Linc an anxious look.
“He knows who Kari is,” he told her as he stood and stretched. “I’ll explain about Ellie when I think the time is right.”
Fair enough, Tate thought.
Tate heard the loud, excited “Dad!” and turned around to see a little boy fling himself at Linc’s legs. Tate couldn’t help noticing, and appre
ciating, the way Linc’s biceps bulged as he scooped his son up and into his arms, easily holding the three-foot dynamo.
“Dad! You’re home! What are you doing here? We made clay dinosaurs at school. Billy made Jamie cry. I fell down and scraped my knee. But I didn’t cry or anything.”
“I am home, buddy. I needed to meet someone here. I’d love to see the dinosaur you made... Where is it? Who is Billy and why did he make Jamie cry? I’m glad your knee is okay,” Linc calmly replied, sending a quick smile to the dark-haired, older woman who walked into the room. “Hey, Mom.”
Tate’s gaze danced over Shaw’s features; he had Kari’s blond hair, the same spray of freckles she remembered her sporting in her childhood and Kari’s spectacular eyes. Give him twenty years and he would be fighting off girls with a stick.
Shaw must’ve felt her eyes on him because his head whipped around, and his mouth dropped open with surprise. He wiggled out of his father’s arms and belted across the room to stand next to her. “I’m Shaw. Who are you?”
Keep it simple, she thought, seeing Linc’s concerned frown. “My name is Tate. And this—” she lifted the little girl’s fist “—is Ellie.”
Shaw placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head. “Okay. Did you come for a playdate with Dad?”
Tate held back her laugh. Oh, God, she wished that this situation was that simple. “I needed to chat with your dad.” She stood up and held out her free hand to Linc’s mother. “Hi, I’m Tate Harper, Kari’s sister.”
Linc frowned. “I thought she was your cousin.”
“Legally, we’re sisters. My mom adopted her when we were kids,” she explained.
Tate expected Jo to give her a very frosty reception, so she was very surprised when the older woman ignored her hand to lean in for a quick hug.
“You’re the travel presenter. I love your program! And who is this?” Jo looked at Ellie and shot Tate a sympathetic gaze, and her mouth tightened. “Don’t bother answering, I see the resemblance between her and Shaw. She’s done it again?”
Tate forced herself to meet Jo’s eyes, and saw a mixture of sympathy and anger. Sympathy for her, anger toward her ex-almost-daughter-in-law.
To her dismay, her eyes started to burn with tears. “I flew in from South America this morning. I had a meeting with my bosses. A few hours later and I’m suddenly responsible for a baby!” She waved her free hand in front of her face in an attempt to regain her composure. “Sorry! I’m not a crier but I’m so mad.”
“You need a cookie,” Shaw said, looking up at her, his expression concerned.
Tate let out a tiny laugh. “I probably do.”
“I’ll have one with you,” the little boy stated, his tone confident. “Then you can feel twice as better.”
Linc shook his head, and the amusement in his gray eyes made her heart stutter. “Nice try, mister. You can have an apple, and if you want a cookie, you can have it for an after-dinner treat. That’s the rule.” Linc placed both his hands on Shaw’s shoulders. “In the meantime, you can take your schoolbag upstairs and say hello to Spike.”
Shaw nodded and bounded away.
Tate lifted her eyebrows. “Who is Spike?”
“His bearded dragon,” Jo replied, shuddering. “Ugly little thing.”
Jo reached out and took Ellie from Tate’s arms. Ellie touched Jo’s cheek with her little hand, and Jo pretended to bite it. The older woman then turned her megawatt smile onto Tate. “Now, what are we going to do about you two?”
Tate darted a look at Linc and shook her head. “No, really, this isn’t your problem. I’ll make a plan, figure something out. I’ll buy that baby book and muddle along. We’ll be fine.”
“I think you should stay here tonight,” Jo said, her tone suggesting that she not argue. “Judging by your career, I doubt you have any experience with babies—”
“Try none,” Tate interjected.
“—and I can, at the very least, help you through your first night with her.”
Oh, God, she’d love that. Tate knew she could figure it out, eventually, but being shown how to do the basics would make her life a hundred times easier. Then Tate saw Linc’s forbidding expression, and her heart sank. He didn’t want her in his house or in his life, and she couldn’t blame him. The last time a Harper female dropped into his life, she caused absolute havoc and a great deal of hurt. “That’s extremely kind of you but—”
“Where are your bags?” Jo demanded.
“Um, still at my company’s office,” Tate replied, suddenly realizing that if she wanted a change of clothes and to brush her teeth, she’d have to collect the suitcases she’d left in the care of Go!’s security. And she’d have to lug said luggage and a baby to whatever hotel she could find on short notice.
Damn.
Tate straightened her shoulders and injected steel into her spine. She’d faced down bigger challenges than this in cities a lot less sophisticated than New York. She wasn’t powerless and she wasn’t broke; she’d just have to get organized. “Thank you but no. I’ll be fine.” She forced herself to meet Linc’s stormy gray eyes. “I’m so sorry to have called you. I suppose I panicked.”
As Tate went to take Ellie, Jo turned her shoulder away and shook her head. “You’re not going anywhere, young lady. You are my grandson’s aunt, and I insist that you spend the night. It’s not as though we don’t have the room.”
“Mom—”
Tate heard the warning in Linc’s voice even if Jo didn’t.
Jo narrowed her eyes at her son. “Linc, arrange for the Ballantyne driver to collect Tate’s luggage and have it delivered here. One of those many interns you have hanging around at work can purchase some baby supplies. I’ll make a list, and it can be delivered with the luggage.”
Linc pulled his hands out of his pockets and lifted his hands in resignation. He looked at Tate and shrugged. “My mother has made up her mind.”
But you’re not happy about it, Tate thought. She looked at Jo, thinking that she’d try another argument, but Jo’s expression was resolute.
“Just for tonight,” she capitulated. “Thank you and I do appreciate your hospitality.”
Jo walked toward the kitchen, taking Ellie with her. When she was out of earshot, Tate gathered her courage to look at Linc. “I promise you, I won’t abuse your hospitality.”
Linc nodded, his face granite hard. “I won’t let you. Trust me, I have no intention of being played for a sucker again. So, fair warning, whatever you think you can get out of me, it’s not going to happen. One night, Tate. That’s it. Tomorrow, you’re gone.”
Tate wanted to explain that she wasn’t like her sister, but quickly realized that Linc wasn’t interested in her explanations and, worse, didn’t care. She was the dust on the bottom of his shoes, and the sooner he could shake her off, the happier he’d be. “Tomorrow, I’m gone,” Tate agreed.
“See that you are. My mother got her way this time. She won’t again.” Linc lifted his wrist to look at his expensive watch. “I’ve got to get back to the office. I’ll arrange to have your luggage collected if you give me the address. Amy’s working on finding that lawyer, and I will ensure that whatever my mother wants purchased gets delivered.”
“Thank you. I do appreciate your help,” Tate said, her back still straight and her eyes still clashing with his.
Linc surprised her when he stepped up to her and gripped her chin in his large hand. An inch apart, she could feel the heat of his hard body, smell his sweet breath. She could see the faint scar in the corner of his mouth, count each individual bristle of his sexy stubble. Her pulse raced. She wanted that mouth on hers...wanted to wind her arms around his neck, to push her aching breasts into his wide chest.
She wanted to know what he tasted like, how he kissed.
“I fell for the machinations
of one pretty Harper woman before. I won’t do it again.” Linc’s gaze darted to her mouth and back up to her eyes again. She saw desire smoldering under his layers of anger and frustration. “So don’t get any ideas, Tate.”
“One night, Linc.” It was all she could think of to say, the only words she could force through her lips. “I promise.”
Derision flashed across Linc’s face as he dropped his hand and stepped back. “Sorry, but Harper promises mean less than nothing to me.”
Fair enough, Tate thought as he strode away. If her fiancé had bailed on her and her child two weeks before their much-anticipated society wedding, she, too, would still be furious and not inclined to play nice with his relatives.
And she most definitely wouldn’t have been as calm as Linc had remained with her. Tate placed her hands on her hips and stared at her feet.
She’d been granted a reprieve, and she’d use that time wisely to rest and pick Jo’s brain on the basics of childcare. Tomorrow she’d move on.
Between now and then the one thing she would not do was fantasize about Linc Ballantyne. Yes, he was insanely hot, but if she were to have a type, he wasn’t it. Within ten minutes she’d pegged him as a traditional guy, someone absolutely committed to his son and his family, to his stable, conventional life.
He was everything she was not. And that was perfectly fine with her, because in the morning she would be moving on.
After all, moving on was what she did best.
Three
In the space of an afternoon, Tate had fallen in love.
She absolutely adored her niece, was partly in love with Jo, was pretty much there with Shaw and utterly entranced with the brownstone the three of them called their home. It was after midnight, and Tate, barefoot and dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, padded down the imposing wooden staircase, her hand sliding down the banister. How many hands had repeated the same action since the house was built in the late 1800s? How many guests had snuck down these stairs to head for the kitchen for a late-night glass of milk or a glass of wine to aid sleep?