The Baby Consultant

by Anne Marie Winston

  It might be Oprah, asking her to share her craft with millions of brides via her show.

  It might be the Maryland lottery, calling to tell her she would never have to work again...unlikely since she hadn’t bought a lottery ticket in her whole life.

  It might be Jack, telling her she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, that he couldn’t live without her, that he lo—Whoa! Where had that come from?

  She knew better than to think that she could ever hold the interest of a man who attracted women like red flowers brought hummingbirds in for a sip of nectar. He was just a natural flirt, and she’d been in his line of flirt-fire a few times recently. Plus, she looked especially good right now to a man trying to become an instant parent to an infant. Well, she’d been courted for her adept handling of children before. Her experience with Oliver had taught her what to avoid. As far as she was concerned, Jack might as well be wearing a Wrong Way sign around his neck.

  Finally, the machine came on. “You have reached Brooks’ Bridals as well as Frannie Brooks. Please leave a message and I will return your call.”

  Click.

  “Hi, Frannie, it’s Jack.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. Think of the devil, and up he pops.

  “If you’re free, would you like to come to a barbecue with me next Saturday evening? It’s my lacrosse team, and it’s a family thing. Casual.” His low chuckle vibrated in the air. “I figured this would be a great way to repay your hospitality without having to cook. Am I brilliant or what?”

  Brilliant. And handsome and sexy as all get-out. Exactly what I don’t need in my life. She reached for the phone and clicked on the receiver, fully intending to decline.

  “Hello, Jack.”

  “Hey, there. My favorite lady. And more importantly, Lex’s favorite lady, too.”

  He couldn’t know that his words were an arrow that struck the bull’s-eye of her insecurities squarely. But it stiffened her spine, and helped her remember that she was not permitted to throw herself at this man’s feet. “Well,” she said, assuming her heartiest tone. “It’s good to know I’m at the top of somebody’s list. Um, Jack, I—”

  “You can’t say no. It’ll be a good time. No pressure, just a friendly kind of thing. C’mon, Frannie.” And his tone coaxed her to break her own rules regarding Jack Ferris.

  “Maybe just for a little while. I have a busy day again this Saturday and I’ll probably be too wiped out to be good company.” Dope! You’re supposed to tell the man no!

  “Great!” His voice rang with enthusiasm, and she could practically feel his pent-up energy through the phone. “How about if I pick you up around four? My lacrosse team’s playing the first game of our championship tournament, and the party’s afterward. You can relax, prop your feet up at the game and be ready for action later.”

  She knew it was just his way of saying she’d be rested and refreshed, but a vivid image of his mouth coming down on hers flashed across her mind—

  “Or we can go to the party if you’re not up for action.” He was laughing now, and she had to laugh with him.

  “You should be locked up,” she said. “Does a day go by that you don’t flirt with someone?”

  “Not if I can help it.” She could still hear a smile in his voice. “So what do you say? Four o’clock on Saturday?”

  “All right.”

  “Okay! See you then.” And he hung up.

  She stood in the middle of the room, holding the silent receiver. She must be crazy. She’d been going to say that four was too early, that she’d meet him wherever, after his game. But he’d outmaneuvered her. He reminded her of the big, bouncy tiger in one of her favorite children’s classics, brimming with boundless energy. But that tiger didn’t have a propensity for charming a woman until she forgot all the reasons she shouldn’t be going out with him. And that tiger didn’t have a sex appeal that erased all common sense and left her pliant and purring at the lightest touch.

  She clicked on her phone again, and pressed the numbers of Deirdre’s home phone. When the answering machine offered her a chance to speak, she said, “Dee? It’s Frannie. Please tell me you don’t have plans for Saturday evening. Jack invited me to his lacrosse game and a party, and I want to talk to you! Ask your brother where the game is and be there.”

  The hours crawled by throughout the rest of the week. Deirdre called to protest that one lacrosse game per season was her limit now, that she didn’t have time, that she’d only made that one appearance to satisfy her brother, but Frannie held firm. “I went to court with you when you needed moral support, remember? Even-Steven, sweetie.”

  Finally it was four o’clock on Saturday. She’d spent an hour, since three, getting ready, which was the silliest thing she’d done in a long while. She never needed an hour. But simple decisions, like what scent to wear and whether or not to add a smidgeon of mascara to her lashes, required major brain cell expenditure this time, and at five minutes before four, she was still transferring Important Female Stuff from one purse to the next. She had barely finished when she heard the growl of a quiet engine turning into her driveway.

  She watched from behind her sheer curtains as he unfolded his big frame from his silver sports car. Why in the world did big men insist on driving ridiculous little cars? He couldn’t possibly be comfortable in that thing, she thought as he turned and flipped the driver’s seat forward, then gently lifted Alexa from her car seat.

  He started up the walk. Alexa was cradled in one big arm. He was wearing a blue and gold jersey that clung to the muscles across his chest and her mouth went dry. His gold uniform shorts glowed against his tan and did little to hide the powerful muscles of his thighs and as she looked at the hard, tanned flesh, she whispered, “Oh, my...”

  She should have said no.

  The doorbell rang. Hurrying toward the door, she slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed a basket in which she’d stashed a container of brownies she’d made to contribute to the barbecue. “Hi,” she said, hating the breathless quality of her voice as she opened the door. “I’m ready to go.”

  Jack didn’t answer. Slowly he extended a hand, silently commanding her to place hers within it. His gaze traveled from the top of her ordinary brown hair, down over the blue-and-white seersucker sundress with its slim crisscross of straps holding up the bodice, down to her whimsical, transparent “jelly” sandals. He cleared his throat. “Did you make your dress?”

  She nodded. It always unnerved her when he behaved out of character, and she forced herself not to shuffle her feet. “I make a lot of my own clothing.”

  “That explains why it fits you so perfectly.” He raised his eyes to her face again and she was reassured to see his lighthearted, confident grin spreading again. “I’m going to have to fight off my teammates when they get a look at you.”

  Now she was worried. “Is it too dressy? I can go and put shorts on.” She’d thought the casual dress was the perfect note, but his reaction made her doubt herself.

  “Don’t you dare. You look great.” He released her hand so that she could turn and lock her door, then he surprised her by taking her hand in his and twining her fingers with his as they walked out to the car. “I only meant that I have no intention of sharing you with my teammates or any other man.”

  I have no intention of sharing you... Dangerous words, if she allowed herself to take them seriously. Which, of, course, she wouldn’t. Flirting was as natural to Jack as breathing. It was simply his way of delivering a compliment.

  Five

  “Jack’s an attackman,” Deirdre explained. “And the reason our team just got that penalty is because they were offsides.”

  “Offsides. Is that like outsides or insides?” Frannie snickered at her own wit. Then she caught herself glancing across the bleachers to where Alexa’s baby seat sat beside the wife of one of the players for the twentieth time. Jack had explained that one of the other player’s wives had volunteered to watch her during the game, and she�
�d forced herself to resist blurting out an offer to do so herself. And it was the right thing to do, she lectured herself. You are not going to get hoodwinked into taking care of somebody else’s child again.

  But still... That woman had barely glanced at Alexa since the game began—

  “How the heck can you live near Baltimore and know nothing about lacrosse?” Deirdre regarded her as if she were an alien species.

  Frannie shrugged. “All my brothers were football and baseball players. Besides, I’m from Taneytown, not Baltimore.”

  “And it’s just up the road.” Dee’s exasperation changed to an instructional tone as she pointed to the field. “See the line across the middle of the field? It’s important. There have to be four men on one side defending the goal and three men attacking the other team’s goals. Always. Period. No exceptions. The guys in the middle—the middies—move forward or back depending on whether the attackmen, defensemen or goalie have left their side of the field.”

  Frannie’s eyebrows rose as she concentrated on the game. “Oh! Why didn’t you tell me that before? Now it makes sense.” She cringed as Jack and a defenseman from the other team appeared to body slam each other in midair, sticks flying with deadly intent. The heavy, “thunking” sound was audible clear up in the bleachers where they sat. “I’ll be glad when this is over. I don’t think I’d like to watch this time after time like some of the wives.”

  “You thinking about becoming one of the wives?”

  “Sure. Didn’t I tell you Jack and I are getting married tomorrow?” Even though she spoke the words in jest, and Deirdre laughed, merely speaking them aloud gave her a funny little tingle. What would it be like to be married to Jack?

  Heaven, answered a little voice inside her head.

  Forget it, answered another, more practical voice. Wait until you meet a man who wants YOU, not your child-rearing or housekeeping skills.

  But what if that man didn’t exist? She knew she wasn’t a raving beauty. And she wasn’t getting any younger.

  “...and I didn’t send you to Jack’s firm with the idea of setting you two up, but now that I see you—”

  “What?” She tuned in suddenly to Deirdre’s ongoing conversation.

  “You’re perfect for each other. Jack is a wonderful guy,” Dee assured her, eyes serious. Too serious. As serious as they’d been ever since Frannie had known her. “I just never thought he’d settle down again. Of course, the little one makes a difference, too. I know how overwhelming single parenting can be.”

  “Wait a minute.” Settle down again?

  Jack had been married?

  She forced herself to breathe, despite the sudden weight settling on her chest. Dee was looking at her strangely; she had to get herself together. There was no reason for her to be stunned, upset by the news. “Jack and I are only friends.” The words were as much for her as they were for Dee.

  Deirdre snorted. “I may not want a man in my life, sweetie, but I am capable of recognizing attraction between two people. Especially two people I know.”

  Breathing was a little easier. The weight had moved down to the pit of her stomach, although she couldn’t dismiss the strange, hollow disappointment that accompanied it. “I’ve helped him out with the baby a few times and had him over for dinner once. We’re just friends.”

  Dee lifted a brow. “Okay. You don’t have to protest so vigorously.”

  “And as far as I know, Jack isn’t thinking of settling down any more than I am. I didn’t even know he’d been married.” There, she’d sneaked that in pretty neatly. Casual, that was the tone she’d projected.

  “Want the scoop?” Dee’s smile was smug.

  So much for appearing disinterested. “Does grass grow?”

  “Well...” Dee crossed one foot over the other and swung her sneakered foot. “Did I mention how grateful I am to my mother for keeping the boys overnight tonight?”

  “Twice already.”

  “And did I mention that Nelson hasn’t made a support payment in more than six months.”

  “Monthly update.”

  “How about—”

  “Dee!”

  “Oh, right. What can I tell you about the former Mrs. Ferris...?” She tapped her chin, then relented when Frannie gave her a fierce glare. “Her name was Lannette and Jack dated her his senior year in college. They were inseparable from the day they met. Made all of his friends gag. You know, that lovebird behavior people do when they’re infatuated?”

  Frannie nodded. This should not be making her feel so miserable.

  “They got married in June, right after they graduated, and they were together for five years. Jack worshiped the ground she walked on. I can remember my brother being really disgusted because Jack wouldn’t go anywhere without her. I don’t think his friends particularly cared for her.”

  “Why not?” Gossiping was a nasty business, she lectured herself, and she should stop right now.

  She leaned forward so she could hear Dee better over the cheering of the people behind them.

  “She seemed very self-centered to me, but I only met her twice. Once at the wedding, and one other time. Anyway, I don’t really know what happened, but I do know she was the one who left. And I guess they were divorced shortly after that.”

  She couldn’t imagine leaving Jack if he belonged to her. The woman must have been mentally ill.

  Around them, fans were beginning to clomp down over the bleachers. The game was over, and she realized she didn’t even know who had won. She looked out over the field toward the benches and caught Jack watching her. When he saw that she had seen him, he waved and beckoned. But for a moment, before he’d smiled, she thought she’d seen the same taut expression he’d worn the night he’d kissed her in his bedroom. Almost an angry one, although she couldn’t fathom what she might have done.

  Before the little voice in her head could give her another lecture, she retrieved Alexa from the baby-sitting team wife and carried her down to the grass. Jack started toward her, stopping for a quick word or a hug and a smile for people he passed...women people, she thought to herself. The man was a doggone magnet. He met her at the foot of the bleachers, reaching for the shoulder strap of the diaper bag and slinging it over his shoulder with his duffle. Placing an arm about Frannie’s waist, he escorted her toward the parking lot.

  “Hi, gorgeous. Did you miss me?” His gray eyes snagged her gaze, sending a warm message of intimacy that made her shiver involuntarily as he bent toward her. For one heart-stopping instant, she thought he intended to kiss her. Then she realized he was only leaning close to inspect Alexa, who was still sleeping.

  Breaking the eye contact, she deliberately chose to misinterpret his words. “If she missed you, she’s not telling.”

  His grin flashed, but he didn’t call her on the evasion. “Don’t you want to stroke my ego?”

  She laughed. “A million women fall for your nonsense every day. Your ego doesn’t need any help from me.”

  “Are you sure?” The look he shot her was suddenly very serious, very un-Jacklike. Hardly the silly retort she’d expected.

  It shook her right down to the tips of her sandals. She didn’t know how to respond, and in any case, her tongue felt as if it were tangled in a big knot. So she didn’t say anything at all.

  Why had he asked that in That Tone, with That Look? It implied a deeper relationship than the casual friendship she was determined to maintain. She was terrified by the notion that she might mean something more to him than simply another female friend, because if he continued to treat her as if she were special, she’d never be able to resist him.

  And she’d be darned if she’d fall for him. She liked her life just fine, thank you, and she didn’t need to foul up her peace with another case of heartbreak.

  Sooner or later a broken heart would be the end result of any relationship with Jack.

  They had reached the car. He propped himself against it and switched shoes, since the heavy spikes were strictl
y for grass playing fields, then stowed his gear in the trunk.

  One of the other players approached and said, “Hey, Ferris. Mind stopping for a couple bottles of soda on the way over? Tammy thinks we don’t have enough.”

  “No problem. See you in fifteen.” The other man walked on to another vehicle while Jack opened her door for her, then took Alexa so he could put her in her car seat. As he started the engine, he asked, “Did Janet feed her or change her during the game?”

  Relieved to have the conversation back on a safer footing, she said, “She said she fed her eight ounces during the last quarter of the game. Alexa’s been asleep since then.”

  “Great.” His smile was wry. “She’ll be wide-awake and ready for action at the barbecue.”

  The drive to the home of the couple having the party was short after a brief stop at a convenience store for the sodas. Jack parked the car in a long row of others, one of two that lined each side of the street in front of a brick-and-siding bilevel. The siding was a startling shade of green. As they started up the driveway to the rear of the home, Jack leaned close. “You get a prize for not doing a double take at that color.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “It certainly is... unforgettable.”

  “You must have been a diplomat in your last life. Stuart is color-blind. He picked it out himself while Tammy and the kids were away on a family visit, and he painted it as a surprise for her.”

  “What a surprise!”

  “Yeah. But Tammy’s a great gal. She’s never told him it’s less than perfect. To this day, Stu thinks he gave his wife a great welcome-home gift.”

  “That’s so sweet.” She giggled. “How many years will it be before she can have it painted again without hurting his feelings?”

  He laughed as they rounded the corner of the house. “I don’t know. He only—”

  “Surprise!”

  Jack stopped dead.

  Everyone had gotten there ahead of them, thanks to the baby and the soda stop. Attached to the chairs and tables were dozens of pink balloons, and a table straight ahead was bedecked in pink crepe paper streamers. It bore a pretty flower arrangement and a huge cake trimmed in pink. Gifts were piled beneath the table.