What she was doing.
If she was safe…
Before I knew it, the elevator doors slowly peeled open and I stepped gingerly out into the hallway. My coat was dripping on the floor as my Ferragamo shoes clicked along the hallway floor. I reached for the doorknob and turned it, and my brow furrowed deeply when I found the door to be unlocked.
I was going to have to talk with this babysitter about being more careful.
I opened the door into darkness. The rain smashed against the full-length windows while the splattered water trickled down the remaining glass, and the fuzzy stars and the silent moon illuminated the darkened hardwood floors as I darted my eyes around. I shut the door behind me with a quiet thud before quickly removing my coat. It wasn’t until I heard a slight murmur come from the couch that I began looking around the room.
I mean really looking.
Nothing seemed out of place: there weren’t any dirty diapers strewn everywhere or unwanted baby vomit in the corners. There were no cardboard packages or crumpled clothes or lingering smells of disgusting baby poop.
There was nothing.
It was a bit… unnerving.
And then it happened again – that same little groan.
I kicked off my shoes and padded lightly across the floor before my eyes crested the edge of the couch, and the sight I saw before me caused a confusion that ricocheted throughout my system: there she was, the woman from early this morning, with her dark brown hair twisting around her head. The moonlight drenched her sun-kissed skin in a silken glow, and a small head sat on top of her prominent chest. This babysitter, with her even breaths and her wild hair, cradled this little girl who had been dumped in front of my door thirteen hours ago.
I felt the strong urge to smile, but bit my lip in order to fight the urge.
I walked down the hallway to my room before an open door caught my eye, and as I began removing my suit coat I turned my body towards the door. The colors of the room drew me in, pinks and yellows and light greens peppered the walls and the newly-established furniture: a crib by the window and a changing table by its side. The closet had containers of diapers at the bottom of it while a leather rocker recliner sat cock-eyed in the corner, facing the beautiful view the window shared with the room.
I was shocked at what she was able to put together in just this one day.
There was a stroller folded in the corner and an unopened car seat in the middle of the floor. There was a toy box next to the dresser at my right as I stood in the room, gawking at its contents.
Everything was so… small.
But then, when I backed out of the room to go finally fall in my own bed, I stumbled over something that caused my back to hit the hallway wall.
The ratty, dirty suitcase from this morning she had flopped onto the floor in order to run after the screaming child –
–My screaming child.
She had put together my daughter’s entire room and never once gave a thought as to where she would sleep.
“Jesus, this is actually happening,” I breathed to myself.
So, I did the absolute least I could do: I picked up her suitcase without grimacing at its state and walked it into the empty room right across the hall from the baby’s–
–From my daughter’s room.
Because something told me she wouldn’t want it any other way.
6
A muffled cry caught my attention before something started wiggling in my arms. I peeled my eyes open to get some bearings on my surroundings. By the time I came to, Clara was roaring. I grunted before hoisting myself up off the couch and then mindlessly turning and heading for the kitchen. I had made some small bottles of formula before we fell asleep, and my back twinged the entire way to the kitchen. The clock on the microwave glared a blindingly bright 2:43 AM as I sighed heavily, and I tried bouncing the little one in my arms before I threw open the fridge and shivering at the cold air blasting towards my body.
I quickly grabbed the bottle, nuked it, and stuck it into the child’s mouth, all the while listening closely for any signs of Mr. Blake.
The last thing I wanted to do was wake him up. This job was literally changing the way I lived my life, and I wasn’t ready to lose something so… lucrative. The money alone he was paying me to do this assignment would change the course of my life for the rest of it, and I let the microwave shut with a quiet thud before I ventured back out into the main room. The view from his couch was breathtaking, and I walked Clara over to it so I could gawk at the city lights twinkling in the distance. It was shocking to me, how many stars blanketed the nighttime sky even though the chaos of the city below our feet was ringing out loud and clear.
“You’ll grow up with this view, little one,” I cooed.
Clara was chugging away at her bottle while her eyes slowly drooped shut, and I figured she probably wouldn’t finish before she fell back asleep against my bosom. I pondered trying to lay her down in her crib, but I was concerned about waking Mr. Blake should she start crying after I walked out of the room.
After all, their bedrooms were adjacent to one another’s, and I had no intention of running into him anytime soon.
It still irked me, how little he knew about his own daughter. Where was her mother? How could he not have had any furniture? How in the world had he been feeding her?
As I stood there, surveying the city below me, I thought about what that all could have meant: maybe he was abandoned by the mother and left to fend for himself. Maybe the baby had been abandoned to him, and he was in over his head.
Maybe he was just a selfish prick who didn’t give a shit in the first place.
That was a possibility as well.
“She was left on my doorstep,” a low voice ricocheted behind me. I jumped and whirled around as Clara’s bottle went crashing to the floor. She began crying again before I scrambled to grab it, and all the while he just stood there –
Watching –
Smirking –
What a pompous ass.
“Here you go,” I cooed before I stuck the bottle back into her mouth.
“Shouldn’t you be concerned with the chemicals they cleaned the floor with today?” he asked.
“Oh, now you have suggestions?” I threw back.
I could tell by the way he hiked his eyebrows up that I had startled him.
“I mean… I just –”
“She was left on my doorstep the night you were called,” he said lowly. His eyes hooked heavily with mine while the shadows of the night carved sharp edges around his jawline and cheekbones. He really was breathtaking: honey blonde hair swept off to the side; ice blue eyes, boasting of an Arctic chill, sitting beside a rigid nose; and a prominent jawline. His dark-rimmed glasses slowly slipped down the edge of his nose, striking up a barrier between the two of us as I slowly studied his body.
Even in his loose-fitting pajamas, I could tell he was strong.
“I had an important meeting at work, and I couldn’t cancel it to stay home and work any of this out,” he said.
It broke my trance, causing me to rip my eyes back up towards his. Those icy blue eyes that threw daggers at those who attempted to question him.
“You did a really good job, setting all this up,” he said.
“Thank you,” I managed to choke out of my mouth.
I felt Clara’s breathing even out again against my skin, and it prompted me to look down at her. I picked up the side of my shirt and wiped the corner of her face, and I didn’t see the look he stole of my skin before I shifted the little baby onto my shoulder.
“I should go lay her down,” I breathed. But I couldn’t move.
My body was at a complete stand-still.
I watched as his eyes raked along my body, no doubt studying me the way I just did him. His eyes lingered on my legs before lazily taking in my torso, and when he locked his eyes back with mine I held my breath while he slowly emerged from the shadows.
The stars twinkled in his eyes
as I watched him slowly approach me.
His body heat was radiant. My neck craned back to take in his stature, my forehead hitting him merely at his chest, and when he lifted his arms towards me I had every intention of sinking my body into his strong, chiseled chest and never allowing myself the pain of leaving.
But I felt his arms curl up underneath mine, and I released his infant daughter into his arms.
“I can do that,” was all he offered before my eyes dropped to the child in his arms.
I watched as he turned to leave, and when he rounded the corner I leaned against the glass windows and let loose the breath I was holding. Mr. Blake was an intimidating man, and my heart began to ache for him at the idea of how he must be floundering. What was once a fiery passion to blame turned into a nagging sensation of guilt: I had assumed the worst of him because of our nonchalant and seemingly ignorant interaction this morning, but the truth was he was just that –
Ignorant to a new situation.
I laid my head against the full-length window pane before I turned my body back around to the view. I looked down at the moving dots, wondering if anyone knew of this man’s perch. They were too far away to peek into their lives, but not far enough away to be oblivious to their existence.
My eyes slowly trailed up to the horizon as I began quietly to count the number of stars in the sky.
Clara was a lucky girl: to be raised in such a beautiful place, with such a beautiful view, of such a wonderful city.
Well, a city that would be wonderful to her.
I could only wish to be so lucky.
7
I heard crying in the middle of the night, and it caused me to groan and roll over. I hired a nanny to keep that kid quiet so I could sleep, and here it was –
I ate my words when the morning sunlight started streaming through the sheer curtains of my bedroom.
“Fuck,” I murmured before I sat up in bed.
It felt like I’d only been asleep for a few minutes. My reward to myself for a job well done was three weeks of vacation, and I was supposed to be living it up! Sleeping in! Waking up next to beautiful women! But the smell of breakfast halted my wishing in my tracks, while the shrieking sound of Clara slowly began to die down.
“I’m a father,” I breathed to myself.
I didn’t know if I was ever going to get used to that title. Men like me didn’t have kids: men with money; tailored suits; expensive shoes; men with late work hours and workaholic attitudes. I was supposed to be out spending my money, not lying here in a bed wishing I could go back to sleep.
I should just go back to sleep!
But the bacon smelled so good, and something smelled like chocolate, and soon my stomach was growling before I heaved myself out of bed. My body yearned to get back into it, to sink back into the plush king-sized mattress with the pure silk sheets and the cool fan blowing directly onto my naked body. My bedroom was where I was most powerful, the most in control. Women succumbed to my tongue and bowed to my every whim within the walls of this room, and it buzzed with untold secrets of unbridled lust while-
“It’s alright, Clara,” I heard the nanny coo while she breezed past my doorway.
I sighed heavily before reaching for my robe. I threw it over my shoulders and made my way for the kitchen, and when I emerged from around the corner my eyes hungrily took in the spread along the kitchen island: steaming chocolate chip pancakes with extra crispy bacon, fresh maple syrup, and orange juice. Coffee began to permeate my nostrils as I went digging for a plate and a fork, and when I dug into the food and sat myself down at the breakfast nook that housed another glorious view of the city, she came striding back through into the kitchen –
Moving as silently as a kitten.
I watched her fly through the room while her feet pattered lightly on the ground. I took in her mangled, tangled hair, thrown haphazardly up into a bun with strings of lightly-curled hair dangling against her neck. I took stock of her pajamas, raggedy pants with a tattered shirt and a robe that I’m pretty sure was giving off the stench of baby vomit.
“Would you like an advance?” I asked coolly.
She whipped her head over quickly before turning back to the counter.
“Why would I need something like that?” she asked.
“To get yourself some suitable clothes.”
I watched her back pull taut with the request as her arms slowly stilled. Her breathing was intentionally slow, and I wondered what I had said wrong. All women love to go shopping, it’s just a natural fact of life. Give any woman money, and she comes back with stuff.
“My clothes are just fine,” she answered lowly.
“Suit yourself.”
I dug into my plate and I couldn’t help but begin to moan. The food was absolutely delicious, and I sank back into the breakfast nook before bringing a piece of bacon up to chew. It’d been a long time since I’d had a breakfast like this. I mean, most people like me hire cooks, but I’m never around this place long enough in the mornings to need breakfast.
And if I am, there’s usually someone I can go out with and get breakfast.
It was rare for me to wake up with time to spare and not have a beautiful woman’s body to call my appetizer.
My eyes wandered back over to Madeline, lingering on her as she made her way around the room. She cleaned up the orange rinds littering the counter, but not before she rubbed them down on the marble surfaces of my kitchen counter.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“To freshen up,” she said quickly.
I nodded slowly before I began studying her again; her robe was slipping down past her shoulder, revealing her bronzed skin beneath the tattered fabrics of her clothes. Her legs were short. In fact, her entire stature was short, compared to me. Her head only came up to my chest, and her eyes held a determined stare as she quickly began clearing the plates away from the kitchen island.
“You’re not gonna eat?” I asked before I grabbed my orange juice.
“Already did,” she replied.
She had thrown up a wall to me. I had offended her somehow.
I never offended women. Women loved me! They loved my laugh, they loved my jokes, and they loved my money...
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked.
Only this time, she didn’t answer.
I slowly sipped my juice while I watched her clean. Clara must have been sleeping, and it gave me a chance to watch her. I couldn’t help but see her helplessly-swinging breasts when she turned around to wipe off the kitchen island. They swung heavily underneath her tattered shirt, and I could feel my groin pulsating with warmth. She was undeniably beautiful, even if her clothes left much to be desired visually.
“How’d you sleep last night?” I tried again. I genuinely wanted to know. This strange woman, with the sun in her eyes and its rays glistening on her skin, had been in my home for less than forty-eight hours, and in that time she had taken the burden of a foreign child off my chest, outfitted my home with what the child needed, and cooked a marvelous meal.
“When did you eat?” I prompted.
Without any answer, she placed her back to me, turning the sink on to wash the dishes that had held the contents of breakfast.
“Are you always this talkative?” I smirked
“Would you like any coffee?” she asked hastily before she threw a rag down into the sink.
“Sure, I’d love some,” I smiled.
“Pot’s over there,” she deadpanned before she headed towards the kitchen exit. I watched as she shuffled out of the room, with her shoulders slumped slightly and her feet sliding across the floor. She was agitated and looked like she felt out-of-place.
But mostly, I think she was overwhelmed.
“Thanks!” I called out after her, and I couldn’t help but watch her pert little ass sashay away from me as she huffed down the hallway.
She was cute when she was upset.
8
Who the hell did he think he wa
s, asking me if I wanted an advance to buy clothes? My clothes were just fine. Nannies didn’t have to look a certain way. Hell, I woke up all night to a child whose stomach was tossing up contents I didn’t even know existed! Obviously the formula I was giving Clara wasn’t holding up well, so after I left that god-awful kitchen, I headed for my cell phone and promptly called the grocery store. I explained what had transpired and what was currently happening to Clara, and they said they had a sensitive-stomach formula they could try to see if that would help her.
I didn’t even say goodbye before hanging up the phone.
Now that Clara was done barfing everywhere, she was finally asleep. I paced all night with that child vomiting down the back of my robe, and he has the audacity to ask me if I want better clothes?
Why don’t you go get better clothes, you jackass!
I tried to slow my breathing before I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. I hadn’t even unpacked my things into my room, so I slowly began pulling things out of my suitcase before tossing them into drawers. I didn’t own anything that required hangars or a closet, and by the time I was done stuffing everything into the dresser drawers, the doorbell rang.
Immediately, it started Clara crying again.
I threw my head back and groaned, made a mental note to have a sign put up whenever she was napping, and shuffled my way out to the door. But, before I could reach it, Mr. Blake had already paid and was standing there with a bag of canned baby formula powder.
“I take it she didn’t like the other stuff?” he asked.
It was the first time I really got a look at him, in the sunlight that was streaming through the awe-inspiring windows. His strong jawline sat prominently underneath high cheekbones, and his ice cold eyes were set ablaze and twinkling by his broad smile. His teeth were white enough to blind a horse, his honey blonde hair was slightly disheveled from sleeping last night, and the robe that draped his body clung to the strong muscles rippling across his arms and chest.
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 38