Garrick stopped at the door. “If you need anything else—”
“I won’t. I mean—I’ve bothered you enough. I even dragged you away from your family…on Christmas,” she added with a small laugh.
He forced out a chuckle and shuffled out the door.
She watched him leave, still feeling like a complete ass.
“That poor woman,” Tamara exclaimed after Garrick relayed this morning’s shenanigans with his new neighbor. “Can you imagine waking up to something like that?” she asked her husband.
“I highly doubt you would run out in the neighborhood screaming like a banshee,” Garrick said, admiring his new watch from his niece.
“Don’t be so sure.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “A baby is a big deal—a lot of work, a life-changing event.”
Garrick and Orlando frowned.
“I’m just saying, I probably would’ve freaked, too.”
“But you already have a kid,” he reasoned.
Tamara’s eyes widened as her nose flared. “So what?” she snapped. “Sleep deprivation, constant feedings, and an endless assembly line of diaper changes are not my idea of fun.”
Orlando looked stunned. “I thought we were going to try for a boy?”
“Not right now,” she said, folding her arms. “I want to go back to school and start my own business.”
“You want to become a career woman?” Garrick said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Can’t you conquer the world after I have my son?” Orlando added.
Tamara ignored her husband and turned her attention back to Garrick. “And what’s wrong with a woman wanting a career? This is the twenty-first century. We don’t all want to be barefoot and pregnant or devote our entire lives to being housewives. At least I don’t.”
“I’m not saying you should,” Garrick defended. “I just think—”
“Ah.” Tamara set down her glass of Coke and pointed a finger at Garrick. “I know what this is about.”
“No. No.” Garrick quickly held up his hands and shook his head.
“Yes. Yes. This is about Miranda,” Tamara accused, and then rocked back with a hearty laugh. “That’s why you want to steer away from career women.”
Garrick and Orlando looked guiltily at each other.
“I don’t have a problem with career women,” he denied. At Tamara’s dubious stare, he added, “I just don’t want to marry another one.”
“Uh-huh.” Tamara crossed her arms. “Your neighbor is right. You are a sexist pig.”
“What?” Garrick glanced at his brother for help, but saw Orlando looking around as if he didn’t want any part of the conversation. “Okay, yes. There were some lessons learned from my marriage. The main one—I want a family, and people who want families should not marry those who don’t.”
“Women can have a career and a family.”
Garrick laughed. “That’s a myth.”
“What?”
He looked to his brother again.
“You’re on your own, bro,” Orlando laughed. “I live with her.”
Tamara smote her husband with a look and he quickly fell silent again.
“Fine. I’ll go it alone.” Garrick met Tamara’s gaze. “I don’t know who sold women on the idea they could have it all, but it’s not true. It’s impossible to run a business and a household harmoniously and successfully. Something has to give and Leila Owens is going to learn that real soon.”
“Okay, little Emma.” Leila drew a deep breath and slipped on a pair of yellow rubber gloves. “Let’s change your diaper.”
Emma squirmed on the sofa and rewarded her aunt with a gummy smile.
Leila’s heart squeezed and she grudgingly smiled back. However, her lips curled the other direction the moment she peeled back the diaper. “Good Lord, what was in that bottle?”
Emma giggled and kicked her legs.
“Oh, child. Please don’t do that.” She tried to catch the baby’s legs; but she wasn’t successful until after Emma had made a bigger mess. Success came after a half box of baby wipes and a mushroom cloud of baby powder. Other than that— “Perfect!”
Leila lifted Emma and then watched in dismay as her creation slid off the child’s heinie. Of course, her niece chose that moment to pee all over her white sofa.
“Goddamn it, Sam.”
Chapter 6
The first workday after Christmas, Atlanta Spice returned to its usual buzz of hectic calm where photographers were late, freelance writers were behind schedule, and the company’s CEO was still recovering from a mental breakdown.
“She’s adorable,” Ciara cooed, waving the stuffed frog in front of a giggling Emma. “How could you not love a face like this?” She leaned over and planted a kiss against the baby’s chubby cheeks.
“She’s only adorable in front of company, but not when she’s peeing on my couch.” Leila looked up from her desk. “Which cost me a pretty penny to have cleaned. Not to mention the cost of turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery.”
“You already hired someone to do that?”
“Had to. I’m not going to keep changing Ms. Thang on my expensive furniture. I’m paying a decorator double time to have the room done by the end of the day.”
Ciara continued to coo over the child. “Have you had any luck locating Sam?”
“None.” Leila removed her reading glasses and leaned back in her oversize office chair. “It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth. Which might be a wise move on her part because if I ever get my hands on her—”
“A woman who can just walk away from her child has to be in a lot of pain,” Ciara sympathized. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with.”
Leila didn’t respond, but sat up and returned her attention to the stacks of paper on her desk.
“Of course, you look like hell.”
“I haven’t slept for more than two hours since Christmas Eve,” Leila complained, staring at her niece. “I don’t know how anybody does it. I feel like a walking zombie.”
“When is Roslyn returning from her vacation?”
“Five days.”
“Are you going to make it?”
“I’m a survivor.” Leila straightened in her chair. “I’ve had to get through a lot worse.”
“You’re going to hire a nanny, aren’t you?”
“Damn right.” Leila glanced at her watch. “I have an important meeting tonight and I have no intentions of dragging a screaming baby into a five-star restaurant. Hearst Communications has the distribution that can take this magazine to the next level. I simply can’t miss or reschedule this meeting.”
“What about that gorgeous hunk across the street from you?” Ciara smiled.
Leila regretted telling Ciara that part of the story. “Gorgeous doesn’t do him justice.” Dropping her elbows down on her desk, she sighed and indulged in a moment to reflect on the best butt she’d seen on a man.
“You know, it’s not every day a woman runs into a baby whisperer.”
She snapped out of her trance. “Okay. Now you’re just making this stuff up.”
“C’mon. You know what I mean. A man who can change diapers, fix bottles and rock a baby to sleep…?” She sobered. “Are you sure he’s not married?”
“I didn’t see a ring.” Leila shrugged as she gave the question considerable thought. “I don’t think so.”
“Did he show up on your gaydar?”
“Not even a bleep.”
“Well.” Ciara clapped her hands. “I say we jump his bones.”
“We?” Leila laughed.
“I’m a pregnant married woman. I have to live vicariously through someone. It might as well be you.”
“What? Elmo isn’t getting it for you?”
“Lay off my husband’s name,” Ciara warned. “I think it’s cute.”
Emma cooed and giggled at the playpen’s rotating mobile.
The women glanced over at the child and smiled.
“Are you sure you want to pawn her off on some stranger?”
“Look, I have a company to run.” Leila perked. “Unless you and Elmo—”
“I would if I could, but Elmo’s parents are flying in tonight.” Ciara patted her belly. “We told them the news on Christmas morning and now they insist on coming in for a visit. But I think you’re missing a wonderful opportunity to peek inside what motherhood is like.”
“My view of motherhood has not changed. It’s not for me.”
“Still. You know you have to be very careful whom you leave a child with. In fact, it’s not unheard of to run a criminal and credit check, and then you might want to set up cameras throughout the house so you can keep an eye out on what’s going on.”
Leila hadn’t considered all of that; but now, since Ciara had brought it up, one could never be too careful.
Once Ciara returned to her desk, Leila spent the next twenty minutes feeding, burping and obsessing with whether she made the right decision to hire a nanny. It suddenly seemed risky.
“Ms. Owens, your one o’clock appointment is here to see you,” Ciara reported over the speakerphone.
“Send her in.”
The moment the door opened, Emma started crying. No wonder, given the middle-aged Englishwoman’s frosty nature.
“You have an impressive résumé, Ms. Howard.” Leila smiled and tried Garrick’s patting-and-bouncing trick.
“Children are my life,” Ms. Howard said without smiling. “All they need is a strict set of rules and a firm hand.”
Leila shifted and wondered at her meaning.
“Holding the child like that is just spoiling her.” The woman’s thin lips pursed as she shook her head. “It’s not good to reward bad behavior.”
“Excuse me?” Leila shouted above Emma’s wails.
The elderly woman stood from her chair and reached for the baby. “May I see her?”
Emma clutched Leila’s blouse and screamed louder. Did her niece sense something strange about the woman?
You know you have to be very careful whom you leave a child with.
“Uh, no.” Leila turned away from the experienced nanny. “I think that’s enough with the questions for the day.” She yelled above the wails and flashed a tight smile. “I’ll be in contact.”
Ms. Howard drew her hands back and stared down the end of her nose. “Very well.” She gathered her things. “I hope to hear from you.”
As soon as the door closed behind the Englishwoman, Emma stopped crying.
Leila frowned at her sniffling, wide-eyed niece and wondered what the devil had just happened. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re like your mother—high-maintenance.”
Emma batted her long lashes, flashed her dimpled cheeks and released a high giggle.
“Whatever.”
Interview after interview, Emma screamed, kicked or threw up on her potential nannies. At the end of the day, Leila felt as if she hadn’t accomplished anything. Her in-box overflowed with work. Her designer suit was stained with drool, food and only God knew what else. “And I still don’t have a babysitter.”
Garrick spent the day unpacking what seemed like an endless line of boxes. By the time the sun set, he was convinced he’d barely scratched the surface. Maybe Tamara was right and he needed to hire someone to do this. One thing was certain—he needed a decorator. In the divorce, Miranda had made off with the good furniture, plants and pictures.
The only things left were nondescript items that left his new house bland and cold. He glanced around and struggled to ward off a wave of nostalgia. “So much for a new beginning.”
He meandered over to the refrigerator and opened it for the millionth time. A lone pack of hot dogs, two cans of beer, and a half a bottle of Gatorade stared back at him. Maybe if he left now, he could make it to his brother’s in time for dinner.
Tamara could throw down in the kitchen.
The doorbell rang.
Garrick jerked up his head and frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He closed the fridge, headed toward the front door and peeked out the peephole.
On the other side, Leila stood in a white sequined dress bouncing little Emma on her hip.
“Oh, Lord,” he mumbled, lowering his head against the door.
When the doorbell rang again, he pulled himself together and answered it.
“Ms. Owens.” He slid his lips wider than necessary. “What a nice surprise.”
“Hi, Mr. Grayson.” She smiled nervously. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Uh, no. I was just…peddling around.” His gaze landed on Emma’s bright eyes and chubby cheeks, and his smile turned genuine. “Is there a problem?”
“Well, yes…and no.”
Garrick’s gaze swung back to hers. He took special note of how her upswept hair made her look younger—softer. “So, are you going to tell me what’s up or are we going to play twenty questions?”
At his light reprimand, Leila squared her shoulders, but still looked vulnerable.
“Would you like to come in?” he softened his tone.
“Actually, I just came over to see…well, really I needed to ask a favor. But, never mind. It was a stupid idea.” She turned to leave and Emma screwed up her face.
“I take it you need a babysitter?” Garrick asked, crossing his arms and admiring the rear view. She really could fill out a dress.
Leila stopped, but refused to turn around. “I—I know it’s short notice and I don’t want to inconvenience you—”
“But you need a babysitter?”
She stood mute while she warred with her pride. What was it about the man that got under her skin?
Garrick, on the other hand, found the exchange amusing. “But I guess I’m wrong.” He shrugged and turned away from the door.
“It would just be for a couple of hours.” She turned, unable to keep the pleading from her eyes.
“Then you’re in luck.” He winked at Emma. “I just happen to have a few hours to kill.”
Leila sighed in relief. “How long were you going to make me sweat?”
“What are you talking about?” He laughed. “I threw you a hook the moment you turned those lost-puppy-dog eyes on me.” He leaned forward and reached out for Emma. “That’s a very old trick, by the way.”
To Leila’s surprise, her niece also reached for Garrick. “I guess you really are a natural.”
“I told you.” He grabbed his keys from a hook near the door and stepped out of the house. “So what’s the special occasion?” he asked as he locked up.
“Business dinner.” She straightened her shoulders. “A very important night for my magazine.”
He should have known. He let her lead the way back across the street and admired the view all the way. How come someone like her didn’t have a man around?
“I should be home no later than ten—ten-thirty tops,” she said, entering through the front door. “Bottles are in the fridge. There is a changing station in both the living room and the first guest room on your right upstairs—”
“Oh?” He looked at her, again impressed with her progress. “You’re getting the hang of this.”
“I don’t have a choice.” She grabbed a full-length faux-fur coat from the closet next to the door. “There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, you’re welcome to help yourself. My cell-phone number is taped on the fridge. Please call me if you need something or if you have an emergency. Of course, you’re probably more equipped to handle it than I, but call me anyway. Uh, let’s see, am I forgetting something?”
“I think we’re going to be fine.” He bounced Emma on his arm. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”
The baby wrinkled her nose and gave him a big toothless grin.
“She really likes you.”
“Hey, I’m—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a natural. Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Garrick Grayson son of Robert and Patricia Grayso
n, brother to Orlando Grayson of 555 Johnson Ferry Road in Alpharetta, Georgia. If you harm one strand of hair on my niece’s head, I’ll hunt you down and kill you. Are we clear?”
He blinked. “What are you—a federal agent?”
Leila winked. “See you at ten-thirty.” She kissed Emma on the cheek and waved as she slipped out the door.
Garrick smiled at the closed door. “There just might be hope for you yet, Leila Owens.”
Chapter 7
Garrick was in love.
Not since Omara had come into the world had another baby captured his heart and wrapped him around her finger. It wasn’t because Emma dug his sock-puppet act or the way he flew her around the living room like an airplane, either. Quite simply: it was her laugh.
She was beyond adorable when she rocked her head back and gave a full belly laugh. After a couple hours, he found himself longing for a family again.
Yet, the prospect of jumping back in the dating arena and starting from scratch made him exhausted just thinking about it.
“Maybe I should just resign myself to being the best uncle in the world.” He tweaked Emma’s nose. “What do you think?”
Emma gurgled and mumbled nonsensical words.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you called me Uncle Garrick,” he admitted. “But I can understand your hesitation, seeing how we just met and all.”
Another belly laugh accompanied a drooling kiss against his cheek.
“I have you pegged now,” he laughed, wiping the side of his face. “You’re going to drive all the boys crazy, aren’t you?”
Emma’s head dropped forward.
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He winked and then waved a finger. “You have to make me a promise. When you grow up to be all beautiful and everything, you have to take it easy on simple boys like me.”
He smiled and wondered about what life had in store for the little beauty. Had her mother truly run off or would she come back once guilt weighed her down?
“Well, I think your aunt is going to take good care of you. I don’t have anything to base that on,” he admitted. “But you have to admit, she’s doing a heck of a lot better than that first day you arrived.”
She’s My Baby Page 4