The chuckling Mrs. Dartmouth dabbed at her shoulder with the cloth. “Heavens, there’s no need to apologize. I’ve been spit up on plenty of times, by my kids and my grandkids.”
He could feel the heat of embarrassment in his face. “Yes, but I’m not accustomed to having my daughter…interacting…with my clients.”
“Pshaw. Nothing the dry cleaner can’t get out, dear.” She chuckled as she stood. “Now tell me, when can we get the ball rolling on my little piece of heaven?”
He reached out to shake her hand while keeping a good grip on Sasha. “Two weeks. We’ll meet again then, and I’ll have your initial plans ready for your approval. How does that sound?”
“That sounds perfect. I look forward to seeing what you come up with, Maxwell.”
They exchanged departing pleasantries, and he escorted her back to the main entrance. Once Mrs. Dartmouth’s black sedan pulled out of the parking lot, Maxwell returned to his office.
He stood in the open doorway of his inner office for a few moments, shaking his head at his daughter. “What am I gonna do with you, you little rascal?”
Sasha offered only a few hiccups and a drooling smile in response.
Carson approached then. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”
“Yes. Get in contact with a nanny agency right away. I’m gonna need a hand with Sasha.”
Carson nodded, then disappeared.
Releasing a sigh, Maxwell picked up his desk phone and dialed Bianca’s phone number.
Bianca answered on the second ring. “Hello, Maxwell. Mama is stable, but she’s lost a lot of function on her left side…” Her voice was heavy with emotion. “I don’t think she’ll be able to look after Sasha, not the way she was before.”
“I see. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure my daughter has everything she needs.”
A brief silence came over the line before Bianca spoke again. “When Juliana deployed and left the baby with Mama and me, we never expected things to turn out this way.” She paused again. “I know you don’t like surprises or being inconvenienced, but it couldn’t be helped.”
He felt the sting in her words and in her tone. He knew Bianca didn’t care much for him. After all, as far as Bianca was concerned, Maxwell had broken her older sister Juliana’s heart. “This isn’t an inconvenience, Bianca. Sasha is my daughter, and I’m ready to take on my responsibilities for her.”
“Mama’s stroke has really taken a toll, and I’m not in a position to take care of Sasha. Besides, my sister’s instructions were to contact you.”
“I understand, and don’t worry.” Maxwell willed his voice to remain steady despite the emotions inspired by the conversation. “I’ve got her, and she can stay with me as long as she needs to.” He gave his daughter a gentle squeeze. “Besides, this means more father–daughter bonding time for us.”
“I’m glad to see you’ve got a positive outlook about all this.”
He took a deep breath, tucking aside his annoyance at the way Bianca had prejudged him. “Things may not have worked out between Juliana and me, but I love Sasha more than anything.”
She grew silent for a moment. “Thank you for stepping in, Maxwell.”
“It’s not a problem at all. Give my best to Ines.”
“I will.” She disconnected the call.
Several minutes passed in silence as Maxwell looked out his office window. The day outside was beautiful, the blue sky holding only a few wispy clouds that did little to filter the bright sunlight. “Maybe I’ll take you to the park, hmm?”
The baby sneezed. Twice. Then she grabbed his ear. “Da-da.”
Maxwell winced as he pried her tugging fingers from his lobe, then chuckled as he grabbed a tissue to wipe the damp spray off his face. “You are really something, Sasha.”
Carson peeped around the threshold again. “I’ve got someone coming over from the Wittenmyer Agency. She should be here within the hour.”
“Great.” Maxwell needed help, and he needed it soon. His lifestyle and home weren’t exactly set up for a baby. He shifted his gaze to Carson’s face. “What’s her name?”
Lifting a bright yellow sticky note into his line of sight, Carson read the name aloud. “Yvonne Markham.”
When Carson left again, Maxwell sat down in his chair. With Sasha wriggling in his lap, he turned back toward the window, content to pass the time in reflective silence as he thought on what full-time fatherhood would mean.
* * *
Yvonne clutched her black leather purse tightly, the straps crushed between her fists as she crossed the parking lot toward Devers Architectural. The conversation she’d had at the Wittenmyer office with Mrs. Cross thirty minutes prior was still playing in her head.
“You’re in luck, Ms. Markham,” Mrs. Cross had said. “You’ve been with us for a very short time, and we already have an assignment for you. I’ll need you to be at this address within the hour.”
After that, her boss had gone on to give a vague description of the job. A single father had requested someone of the highest skill to care for his baby girl, and the client had offered a generous bonus to get someone over right away. Yvonne’s jaw had dropped when she heard the salary, but she’d quickly shut it. Wittenmyer was the top agency in town, and she didn’t want to look like a poor country urchin in front of Mrs. Cross or the two coworkers also in the office.
Now, as she approached the beautiful, contemporary building, she wondered why she was meeting the client here instead of at his home. She pushed the thought away, knowing she’d find out the answer soon enough. For a fifteen-hundred-dollar bonus, we could’ve met wherever he liked.
Entering the building, she stopped at the reception desk.
The petite redhead there greeted her right away. “Welcome to Devers Architectural. I’m Mary Alice. Can I help you, miss?”
Feeling her hand begin to cramp, Yvonne finally loosened her grip on the purse straps. “Hello. My name is Yvonne Markham…”
Mary Alice stood. “Oh, from the agency. Just go down the hallway to your right. Carson will be waiting for you.”
“Thank you.” Yvonne turned and went in the direction she’d indicated, taking in the soft-hued decor, wood paneling, and modern art. The place was immaculately decorated, but then she supposed she should expect no less from an architect.
At the end of the corridor, a rather nervous-looking young man with brown hair and blue eyes stood, tapping his foot. When she approached, he asked, “Are you Yvonne?”
She nodded. “I am. Are you Mr. Devers?”
The tapping stopped, and he seemed less agitated now. “No. I’m his intern, Carson. I’ll escort you in. He’s waiting for you.”
Carson turned and opened the heavy wooden door behind him, gesturing for her to enter.
Yvonne entered the room with Carson close behind her. It was a small office, and by Carson’s quick steps, it appeared they were only passing through. They came to another door, this one made of the same wood but with an intricate monogram, MD, carved into it.
Carson knocked.
“Come in,” called a deep voice from within.
Carson opened the door and stepped away. “Go in, please.”
Yvonne took three cautious steps into the room. This inner office was much darker than the outer one, and looking around, she could see most of the window blinds were shut.
Except for one window, where a man stood, looking out. His back was to her, but she could see his shape clearly. His frame, tall and broad-shouldered, seemed imposing despite the size of the room. Without being able to see his face, she couldn’t gauge his mood. The dimness of the room didn’t exactly make her feel welcome. This was her first encounter with her very first client, and she didn’t want to do or say anything that might offend him. She stood by the door, waiting for him to speak.
After a moment or two o
f silence, he spoke. “Come in, Ms. Markham. Have a seat.”
She eased to the chair by his large, oddly shaped desk and sat down, placing her purse in her lap.
He turned then, and her eyes widened at the sight of the sleeping baby in his arms. Sure, it was the first meeting, and she didn’t know exactly what being an architect entailed. Still, she doubted bringing a baby to work was standard practice for professionals in the field. I suppose that’s why I’m here.
He moved away from the window, circling the room and opening the vertical blinds, all while carefully balancing his slumbering child. As the light began to fill the space, it became far more inviting. Once all the windows were adjusted, he came to stand behind the desk.
As she looked at his face for the first time, a prickling sensation went down her spine. The afternoon sun streaming into the room let her see his smooth, caramel-skinned handsomeness, and she thanked the heavens for the good weather. He had a strong jaw, piercing brown eyes flecked with green, and the most kissable lips she’d ever seen. His suit, a rich shade of royal blue, had obviously been tailored with care to fit his tall, muscular frame. She knew she should say something, but staring at him seemed to be all she could manage.
His lips tilted into a smile.
Her nervous energy melted away instantly. It amazed her how he’d set her at ease. I bet this brotha never has trouble closing a deal.
“Thank you for coming in on such short notice, Ms. Markham. I’m Maxwell Devers.” He extended his free hand.
She stood, shook hands with him. His large hand enfolded hers, and she could feel the mixture of firmness and restraint. She tried in vain to ignore the tingle that ran up her arm the moment he touched her. When he released her hand, she sat back down.
He spoke again. “I’m not sure how much you know about my situation, but I’ll fill you in as we go.”
“That sounds fine, Mr. Devers.”
“Call me Maxwell.” He sat down behind the desk. “If you’re going to help me raise my daughter, we may as well be on a first-name basis.”
She smiled. “Sure.” Listening to the way he’d said that last statement, she concluded that he was a single father. “What’s your little one’s name?”
He smiled, pride radiating from his face as he looked at his daughter. “Her name is Sasha Lynn. She’s seven months old.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful. Developmentally, so many things are happening to an infant at that age. She’s developing her fine and gross motor skills, trying new foods…” She paused, seeing the expression on Maxwell’s face. She couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed by her babbling. “I’m sorry. Excuse me for rambling on.”
“No, no. Don’t apologize. I want someone who’s knowledgeable and someone who’ll care deeply about Sasha. You just met her and you’re already excited, and that’s a very good sign.” His expression softened into a half smile.
She thought he still looked somewhat unsettled, but it wasn’t her place to press. She’d known him for all of twenty minutes. Looking toward the baby, she imagined what her small face would look like. “I’d ask to hold her, but I know she’s probably not ready for that.”
“Why not?”
“Developmentally, she’s at the stage where stranger anxiety starts to kick in.” She smiled, moving closer before tracing a gentle finger through the baby’s rich dark curls. “It’s best to transition her slowly into my care so she won’t be uncomfortable with me.”
Sasha sneezed, and her little eyes popped open. A moment later, the baby started to wail.
He lifted her on to his shoulder, bouncing her small body and patting her back. “It’s okay, honey.” He whipped out a portable changing pad, and laying the baby gently on it, he put her in a fresh diaper. After setting her in the car seat briefly so he could sanitize his hands, he produced a jar of turkey and sweet potato baby food and a sippy cup of apple juice.
She looked on, noting how he stayed calm despite his daughter’s cries.
“Sorry. She’s a little cranky.”
“No worries. Let me guess…teething?”
He nodded with a slight roll of his eyes. “For a couple of weeks now. She’s got two coming in on the bottom, and she’s been quite a little pistol.” While he fed her from the jar, Sasha calmed considerably, obviously enjoying her meal.
Yvonne chuckled. “I know what to do to get her through the teething stage.”
“Glad to hear it. But what do you know to get me through it?” He followed his words with a wry laugh.
“Patience. It’s the only way.” She eyed him sympathetically. “Anyway, I think I should spend some time with you and Sasha together before I fully take over her care. It’s going to be an adjustment, and we should ease her into this new situation.”
“We’re already going through an adjustment.”
She tilted her head. “How so?”
“Sasha’s maternal grandmother has custody of her while Sasha’s mother, my ex-girlfriend, is deployed overseas. I usually only have her two weekends out of the month, but now, I may be taking her on full time until her mother gets home.”
“I see.” That explained why she’d been called to his workplace instead of his home; there was a family crisis at play.
“How would you normally go about building rapport with a new charge?”
“Basically, we all sit on the floor together and play. Sasha will watch the way you and I relate to each other, and she will follow your lead. If you seem to like and trust me…”
“Sasha will get on board, too.”
“Right. So when would you have time for a little free play with your daughter and I?”
He adjusted his grip on Sasha, who wriggled in his arms. “Looks like she’s ready for a little playtime right now. Workday’s shot anyway.”
“If that works for you, I’m ready.”
“Let’s take her home. That way, you two can get acquainted, and you can learn the lay of the land around my place.”
A flicker of anticipation came over her at the thought of seeing the private domain of the drop-dead gorgeous architect slash single dad. Curiosity flared inside her. What kind of place would he live in? A contemporary condo looking down over the city? A modest brick split-level with a fenced yard? A quaint country cottage nestled among the pines? He’s attractive, articulate, well groomed…obviously a consummate professional, accustomed to taking charge and getting things done. No. The more she thought about it, the more he struck her as a man who lived in a gated community somewhere on the outskirts of town…the “swanky palace in the ’burbs” type. Wherever he lived, she felt a certain eagerness to see it. “Sounds good.”
After watching him strap his bouncing baby girl into the car seat in the rear of his SUV, Yvonne got into her car and followed him to his home. Sure enough, they arrived a half hour later in front of a sprawling brick home. A manicured lawn spread out before the house like a splendid tapestry of green, and the towering white columns flanking the front porch added an air of Southern sophistication to the exterior.
She joined him on the porch, watching him put his key in the lock.
Pushing the door open, he gestured her inside. “Come on in.” He adjusted Sasha’s position on his right hip.
With a nod, she eased past him and into the grand foyer of his home.
Chapter 3
Settled onto the patterned area rug in his living room, Maxwell watched Sasha scoot around on her bottom. As she reached the edge of the rug and slid onto the polished cherry floor, she picked up a bit of speed.
“Look at her go.” Yvonne smiled, her eyes locked on the baby. “She’s very mobile, I see.”
“Extremely.” He shook his head. “Getting her to sit in one place these days is an exercise in futility unless she’s strapped down.”
She laughed. “Sounds about right for a baby her age.”
Sasha skidded to a stop near a set of plastic keys under the coffee table. Leaning over, she picked them up and immediately stuck one of the brightly colored keys into her mouth. Smiling and drooling, bouncing up and down on her diapered bottom, she appeared quite content.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, momentarily drawing his attention away from his daughter. Slipping the phone out, he saw Bianca’s name on the display. Swiping, he brought it to his ear. “Hi, Bianca. How’s Ines?”
Bianca’s sigh spoke volumes. “Not too good, Max. The stroke…really took a toll on her.” Her voice cracked with emotion.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Bianca.” Settling his back against the love seat, he felt his brow creasing. “What are the doctors saying?”
“They say she’s lost sensation on her whole left side.” Bianca paused, sniffled. “She’s having a hard time speaking, and they think she may have sustained some permanent damage to her speech center.”
“I know it’s not the news you wanted to hear. Do they know how long they’re going to keep her?”
“No. At least a week, though.” She sniffled again. “And even when she does get home, she’s going to need a lot of care.”
He scratched his chin. “Sounds like you need me to step up for Sasha.”
“We do. Mama can’t take care of her, not in this condition. And with my four kids and what’s just happened to Mama, I can’t add any more responsibility right now.”
“Don’t worry. Sasha and I will be fine. You just focus on your family.”
“Who’s going to watch her while you work?”
“I already hired a nanny.”
Bianca paused. “What? Really?”
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