by Thea Dawson
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. “It’s for everyone. They pass out Hanukkah gifts to all the kids, but it’s really just a big holiday party. They basically just invite everyone they know.”
“They don’t know me,” he pointed out.
Rachel’s cheeks turned a shade rosier than they’d been when she walked in. “Yeah, but I told them what a great boss you’ve been, and that you, you know, don’t have any family in town …”
He frowned and shuffled some papers on his desk. There went the boundaries again. “That’s … very nice of your mother, but I don’t have anyone to leave Nora with.”
“Oh, you have to bring her!” Rachel looked shocked that he’d even consider coming alone. “Everyone brings their kids. They run around, and the grownups drink. Well, I guess Nora won’t run around, but you know what I mean. It’s really fun. You should totally come.”
It was almost tempting. Now that he’d had a couple of nights of decent sleep, he was regretting that his evening with Cathy, Chuck, and Alyssa had gone by in such a fog. He’d left a large part of his social life behind in New York when he’d moved back to Haven Bay, and he’d isolated himself further since finding out he had a baby. An evening in the company of adults, especially if the baby kept up her new habit of sleeping for several hours in a row, might be fun.
Still …
“I’m not sure if that would be a good idea. From what you tell me about your family, it wouldn’t surprise me if I ran into a client there, or at least a friend of a client. People talk.”
Rachel did the exasperated teenager thing again, cocking her head to one side and huffing. “Oh, come on, it’s the 21st century. You had a baby out of wedlock, you and half of Hollywood. Big deal.”
He stuffed a folder into a drawer, shutting it harder than necessary. If a rock star or an actor fathered an illegitimate child or two, it probably just enhanced his image. For a lawyer in a conservative town, it was a different story.
Plus, something about the brisk, overly casual way she’d said it made him suspicious. He looked up and gave her a hard stare. “Did you tell your parents about Nora?”
Sheepish guilt stared back at him. “Um …”
Bryce put his head in his hands and groaned. “Rachel, I specifically asked you not to discuss my personal life outside this office.”
She gave a dramatic sigh. “I know, I know, but I didn’t know that the first morning I was here. I was a little freaked out about being left with a tiny baby—and honestly, it was kind of a funny story, you know, me walking in thinking I’m going for a regular interview, and then you just hand me a baby, so I called my mom.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“… And my grandmother,” she admitted.
“Rachel—”
“But once I knew what the whole story was, I swore them to secrecy. My mom’s really good at keeping secrets. She’s been a family therapist for, like, thirty years, so she’s heard everything.”
He raised a pair of dubious eyebrows. “And your grandmother? Is she equally discreet?”
“Well …” she began. He suppressed a groan. “She’s very discreet,” Rachel continued. “But I was a little late swearing her to secrecy, so she said something to my sister, who’s a pediatrician, by the way, in case you need one.”
He filed away the information about a pediatrician in case it came in handy later, and made another stab at getting to the bottom of Rachel’s indiscretions. “Maybe I should rephrase this. Is there anyone in town who doesn’t know I have a baby?”
“Most people.”
“Most people except for you, your mother, your grandmother, your sister … Your dad?” he hazarded. Rachel gave a noncommittal shrug. “Anyone else? Anyone at all?”
She drew a deep breath. “Remember how I ran into my friend Savannah in the coffee shop that morning?”
His eyes narrowed. Savannah was an unusual name. “Was that Savannah Greene, by any chance?” From the look on Rachel’s face, it was. “Rachel, I know her. Professionally. She is exactly the kind of person I don’t want knowing about this. Anyone else?”
“Savannah might have said something to our friend Holly. But that is as far as it’s gone, I swear.”
He stared at her, disbelieving. “You were gone for two hours that morning, and you managed to tell at least six people about her. I’ve had her for almost two weeks, and the only person I’ve told is my lawyer.”
“Well, and Leslie. And me.” Rachel gave him an apologetic grimace. “I’d say the cat’s pretty much out of the bag at this point.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Rachel …”
“I’m sorry. I really am,” she continued. “I wouldn’t have said anything to anyone if I’d known it was supposed to be a secret.” She was biting her lip and clutching the folders to her chest.
His shoulders slumped in defeat. In fairness, he’d sent her out in public with the baby without giving her any background or telling her not to talk. He was probably lucky she hadn’t called social services on him.
“Anyway,” Rachel continued, “if you decide not to fire me, we’d love for you and Nora to come to the party.”
He raised one eyebrow. “And if I do decide to fire you?” He knew he wouldn’t.
She grinned. She knew it too. “You can still come. No one in my family would hold it against you.”
“And what am I supposed to tell people who ask about Nora?”
Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. That you’re holding on to her for a friend or something? But please come. It’ll be fun. Besides, my parents really want to thank you for hiring me. They were afraid I’d be mooching off of them forever.”
Her large brown eyes reminded him of a puppy. And, like a puppy, it was almost impossible to stay annoyed with her for very long.
“I don’t know about the party, but please tell your mother I appreciate the invitation.”
She smiled as if she’d just won the argument. “Good enough. I’ll get that filing done.” She started for the door.
“Oh, one more thing.” She turned back to him. “Call the social workers again and try to nail down an appointment for as soon after Christmas as possible. I really need to get this taken care of.”
The smile faded from Rachel’s face. More judgment? Maybe, but if so, it was coming from him. Rachel just looked sad.
“Sure,” she said, her voice subdued. “I’ll get that done.”
8
Tuesday morning, Rachel was back in the coffee shop. She had a book on child development in one hand and was gently pushing the stroller back and forth with the other. Nora had been fussy all morning, but she was finally settling down, gurgling and waving her hands at the chandelier above her.
Rachel glanced up when the bells over the cafe door jangled, and her face broke into a wide smile when she saw who it was.
“Rachel!” Savannah whipped off the sunglasses and gave her a dazzling smile. “I was wondering if you’d be here again. Next time I’ll text you to make sure. This is a pretty good gig where you get to go spend half your day in a coffee shop.”
“You have no idea how much work goes into raising children,” Rachel replied, waving the book at her.
“Pretty sure you don’t, either.” Savannah laughed. “I’m just going to grab some lunch. Can I join you and this little darling?” She leaned over the stroller and let Nora curl her hand around one black-leather finger.
“Of course!” Rachel buried the book back in her bag, happy to have someone to talk to.
Savannah came back a moment later, a paper cup of coffee in one hand and a plastic box of salad in the other. She smiled at the stroller. “Oh, it looks like someone’s getting sleepy!” she whispered.
“Thank God,” Rachel muttered. “Okay, so what’s the scoop on Holly’s fiancé? Does she know he induces vomiting in you?”
“Ugh.” Sav slid into her seat, shaking her head. “That guy … His name’s Steve.”
Rachel w
aited while Savannah opened the plastic salad box. “… That’s it? You don’t like him because his name’s Steve?”
“I don’t like him because he’s a smarmy, self-satisfied asshole.”
“So what does Holly see in him?”
Sav rolled her eyes. “What does she not see in him? He’s good looking, he works on Wall Street, and as far as Holly is concerned, he’s light-years out of her league. She’s over the moon that he’s giving her the time of day, let alone wants to marry her. Remember how she pined away for Rick Morton in high school? It would be like him suddenly turning around and proposing.”
Rachel took a thoughtful sip of her chai latte. If Steve was as much of a hotshot as Savannah made him out to be, she could see it going to Holly’s head. Then again, they weren’t in high school anymore. Holly was attractive and successful, and she had more confidence now than she’d had when she was a teenager. And really, it had always been her lack of confidence, rather than her looks or personality, that had held her back.
“Holly’s a pretty good catch herself,” Rachel defended their friend. “She’s pretty, she’s smart, she’s funny. She’s a screenwriter, so that’s pretty cool. He must care about her if he wants to marry her,” she suggested hopefully.
Savannah snorted. “Steve cares about Steve. He’s just thrilled to have a cute little wife who thinks the sun rises and sets on his ass crack, and having a rich and famous mother-in-law is a bonus. Holly’s a total doormat for him. ‘Steve thinks we should live in the city after we get married. Steve thinks we should go to Hawaii on our honeymoon. Steve thinks I should quit working after we have kids.’” Savannah’s Southern accent was coming out in full force. “And Holly?” Savannah snapped her fingers. “She’s not thinking at all.”
“Mm … okay.” Rachel put her cup down. “But has he actually done anything wrong? I mean, does he cheat on her or torture puppies or anything?”
Savannah stabbed grimly at a slice of pepper. “It wouldn’t surprise me,” she said. “But no, I don’t know anything for sure. I just know his type, and I don’t like it.”
“Well …” Rachel tilted her head, not sure what to make of the situation. She liked Savannah, but she’d always been prone to hasty judgments, whereas Rachel preferred to give people the benefit of the doubt. “I hope I get a chance to meet this guy,” she decided. “I’d like to see him for myself.”
Savannah snapped her fingers again. “That’s another thing—we never see him. He’s always ‘working late’ or ‘busy,’ even on weekends. I think he’s hiding something from Holly.”
Rachel gave her friend a dubious smile. “I don’t know, Sav. My brother works on Wall Street, and some of those guys work crazy hours. I’m not sure you should read that much into it.” She took another sip of her latte. “Oh, before I forget, I wanted to invite you and Holly to my parents’ Hanukkah party. Holly can bring Steve, and then I can meet him myself.”
Savannah glanced up from her salad. “Oh, that would be fun! Thank you. I’d love to see your family again.” She sighed. “And yes, I guess you have to invite Steve if you invite Holly. But I’m telling you, Rache. The guy is bad news.”
Rachel just smiled noncommittally at her latte. “I guess we’ll see on Saturday.”
For the rest of the week, Bryce waffled about the party.
It was a risk bringing the baby. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that her existence could get back to one of his clients. Then again, it bothered him that he was keeping her secret. It felt sneaky and unethical, a lie of omission compounding the mistakes he’d already made.
And he liked the idea of doing something festive. Everywhere he went, there were holiday lights and Christmas carols and Santas ringing bells. He’d never been all that into the holiday season, but he couldn’t remember a time it had passed him by completely before now.
He’d been invited to have Thanksgiving with friends but had to cancel at the last minute to organize what he could before picking the baby up from her grandparents’ lawyer in Massachusetts. He’d spent the rest of the long weekend trying to learn everything he could about babies, terrified that he’d hurt the tiny, unhappy creature before he had a chance to turn her over to someone more responsible.
His mother and her new husband were spending the holidays in Barbados, so there was no one to have Christmas with, even if he’d been inclined to impose himself on them. He had invitations to several New Year’s parties, but the problem of what to do with the baby remained. He couldn’t ask Rachel to babysit again.
So the idea of celebrating something with someone had more appeal to him than it might have in other years.
And, if he were really honest with himself, he was drawn to the idea of seeing Rachel again outside of work. Without the baby around to distract him, he was becoming more aware of her presence in the office, not just as an interim receptionist or part-time nanny, but as a woman.
A woman, he was realizing, who was smart and resourceful, who was fun to be around, who could handle ridiculous situations with grace and good humor … and who was somehow growing more attractive every day.
He’d never noticed what Mrs. Willoughby had worn—he had the vague impression that she’d worn a conservative blue blazer to work every single day for the eighteen months they’d worked together—but he noticed everything about Rachel.
She had a striking collection of shoes, for one thing. None of them seemed terribly practical, but he found himself looking at her feet every morning to see what sort of patent leather, lace-up confection decorated them today. From there, it was a short jump to admiring her legs, then her hips and her chest, and upward until his gaze landed on her pretty, cheerful face.
Rachel’s outfits were always perfectly appropriate for the office, but they had a flair that Mrs. Willoughby’s reliable navy suit never had, and they had a way of drawing his attention to parts of her that he would have preferred not to notice at all. A colorful silk scarf knotted around her neck drew his eye to the creamy skin just below her collarbone. The cashmere twinset reappeared, reminding him of pin-up girls from the fifties with their tight sweaters and provocative poses. A wide leather belt over a knit dress made him wonder what it would be like to put his hands around her waist and trace the curve of her hips.
It wasn’t long before he started catching himself trying to picture what she looked like under those enticing outfits. He imagined that her eclectic shoes covered dainty little feet that would respond well to massages, and that under the professional clothes, she probably wore lacy matching lingerie. And under the lingerie, her skin would be soft, smooth, and incredibly sensitive.
These thoroughly unprofessional thoughts were both enticing and disturbing. He had enough complications in his life without adding an affair with a colleague—assuming Rachel would even be up for such a thing. It was hard to believe that someone with such a sunny and casual disposition would be interested in a type-A workaholic like himself.
And anyway, he reminded himself sternly, she was his employee, and he was a lawyer. He knew better than most people that a relationship would be a legal and ethical minefield.
By 5 p.m. the Friday before the party, he was still undecided.
Rachel stepped into his office, shrugging herself into her woolen dress coat. “Party at my house, seven p.m. tomorrow night. Be there or be square.”
He was still working on a deposition for a client, but he looked up from his computer.
“We’ll see, Rachel,” he said, his voice gruff. “Happy Hanukkah, in any event.”
“Hey, thanks! You too. Kiss that baby for me!”
Then she was gone.
“This is Steve.” Holly’s face was lit with excitement. She stood in the doorway of Rachel’s parents’ house, next to a tall man with wavy brown hair and a genial smile.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Steve,” Rachel said, shaking his hand. “Welcome to the Cohen family Hanukkah party, you two! Come on in!” She waved the two of them inside. “Coat
s are going in the bedroom upstairs. Come down when you’re ready, and I’ll get you guys a drink.”
A still-smiling Holly led Steve upstairs. Rachel turned and almost bumped into Savannah. Eyes narrowed and arms crossed, Savannah watched Holly and Steve vanish upstairs, then turned to Rachel with an accusing look.
“He didn’t seem that bad,” Rachel said.
“He’s bad, all right,” Savannah replied, her tone grim. “Bad all the way through.”
Rachel pulled her friend into the empty study just off the front hall. “Look,” she said, and then stopped, unable to make her thoughts make sense.
“What?”
Rachel took a deep breath. “You’ve always hated guys like Steve. Or Bryce, for that matter. What do you have against them?”
“Guys like what?”
“Like …” She paused to think about it. “Handsome, successful, smart, and rich. You hate them.” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “You’re really a very strange girl, now that I think about it.”
Savannah huffed in exasperation “I don’t hate all good-looking, smart, rich guys,” she replied, “but as it happens, those are the guys who happen to be the most arrogant, the most self-centered, the most likely to cheat on you, and the least good in bed.”
Rachel studied her friend. “O-okay … so how much of this is about Steve and Holly, and how much of it is about you?”
Savannah made a strangled noise of frustration. “Rache, I’m telling you, he’s bad news!” she hissed.
“Hey, you two!” Holly appeared at the door of the study, Steve right behind her. “What are you hiding away in here for?”
Savannah’s face instantly rearranged itself into a plastic smile.
“We’re just catching up on some gossip. We’ll fill you in later,” Rachel assured her. “Come on, let me get you guys that drink I promised.”
“Cool!” Holly smiled brightly. “Remind me, I have a lead on a possible job in the city for you. Some guy my mother knows who’s working on a documentary.”