Red Carpet Romance

by Jean C. Joachim

  “Want tea?” She asked Quinn, on her way to the kitchen.

  “All I want is you,” he said, pulling her into his embrace before lowering his mouth to hers. Her body softened against his. His hands moved slowly up and down her back, where he felt the rate of her breathing increase, before they stopped, cupping her bottom. He squeezed it and pulled her closer, causing desire to course through his veins.

  He wanted her like he hadn’t wanted any other woman. He moved his lips to her neck. She loosened her arms around him so he could kiss her shoulder. Her hands moved up into his hair, and her mouth teased his ear.

  Quinn raised his hand to her breast. A low moan from her throat gave him permission to continue. She wants me, too. He closed his fingers around the soft mound and squeezed gently while his fingertips eased over the rim of her dress to pull it down. He kissed his way down her chest. Then he heard it. Soft at first but growing louder. The cry of a baby. Quinn lifted his head, shooting a questioning look at her.

  “Junior?” He asked.

  Susanna nodded. “I’ll check on him and be right back. Hold that thought.”

  He chuckled before pulling his bowtie free and removing the studs from his shirt.

  “Quinn!”

  His head snapped up at the panicky tone in Susanna’s voice. He rushed into the bedroom to find her holding Junior, whose face was red from screaming.

  Chapter Six

  “Quick, unzip me. Can’t get this dress dirty.” The gown quietly slipped to the floor, revealing that she was stark naked underneath. His stare almost burned her skin. Unable to hide her embarrassment at being undressed in front of him, Susanna focused her attention on the screaming baby as she stepped out of the dress and grabbed her robe. Placing Junior on his back on her bed, she threw it on, hastily fastening the sash while Junior screamed louder.

  “He’s burning up,” she said, picking the little slugger up and holding him against her chest.

  “What can I do?” Quinn turned his attention to the child.

  “In his suitcase. There’s a plastic bag with emergency stuff in it. Get a thermometer.” She walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

  A few moments later, Quinn followed, toting the plastic zip bag. “Which is the thermometer?”

  Susanna thrust the baby at Quinn and motioned him to the rocking chair. She handed him a bottle filled with cool water and helped him settle Junior into a comfortable position. The infant took the water eagerly. While he sucked quietly, she searched the bag. There were several contraptions that looked like they might be thermometers, but she wasn’t sure.

  “Damn! No rectal thermometer. I don’t know what the hell these are.” She continued to rummage, finally pulling out one. “I think this goes in the ear.”

  “Too short for the butt,” he put in.

  She gave him a sharp look, and he grinned. Susanna placed the thermometer in the baby’s ear. It registered quickly, reading 103.4. “Holy Hell. This kid is sick.” Sinking down on the sofa, she put her head in her hands.

  “What do we do?” He asked, rocking the infant while he sucked down water.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What?” His eyebrows shot up.

  “I don’t know. Annie always took over when the kids got sick.”

  “Call her.”

  “It’s four o’clock there…but this is an emergency.” She whipped out her cell phone and dialed her sister’s number. It took a while for Annie to answer. Susanna paced as she spoke to Annie.

  “He’s burning up, Annie. Over one hundred and three.”

  “How old?”

  “Five months, give or take.”

  “Get some baby acetaminophen. Send Quinn out for it. Before that, you’ll have to bathe him down first.

  “Bathe him down?”

  “Put him in a tub—”

  “No baby tub here.”

  “Use the kitchen sink. Make sure it’s clean first.”

  “Got it.”

  “Fill it part way with lukewarm water. Hot water will make his temperature rise and cold water will chill him, make it hurt.”

  “Cold will make him hurt?”

  “Trust me, okay? Take a washcloth and soak it with the water and gently stroke it over his chest, arms, and back. Lightly.”

  “Why?”

  “When the water evaporates, it cools the skin. Rubbing a little brings blood to the skin and when the skin cools, so will the blood. That will bring his temp down. The medicine will keep it there.”

  “What if this doesn’t work?”

  “It will. It will. Get some Pedialyte, in case he’s getting dehydrated. That can be dangerous. He needs to take in a lot of liquids, and that’s one of the best.”

  “Pedialyte. Got it.”

  “Call me in two hours.”

  “Thanks a mil, Annie. Go back to sleep.” Susanna hung up and faced Quinn. “This requires two people. I need you to find an all-night drug store.”

  “McGinty’s. Got it.”

  “You know all night drugstores right off the bat?”

  “Coming home drunk, occasionally, I knew I’d need something…,” he said sheepishly.

  “Okay, okay. Forget that. Go there. Buy Children’s Tylenol. Also Pedialyte. A big bottle of Pedialyte.”

  “What the hell is that stuff?”

  “It’s to keep him from getting dehydrated. It’s necessary, that’s all you need to know.”

  “Got it.” He handed the baby back to Susanna and pulled out a pen and paper from his breast pocket. He jotted down the small list.

  “How are you going to get there?”

  “I keep an SUV in the garage here.”

  “Wonderful,” she said, relief evident on her face.

  Quinn grabbed his keys and flew out the door to the car. She washed out the sink and ran a lukewarm bath while she held the baby. Junior had finished drinking the water and began to cry again. Susanna paced, holding him to her chest while the sink filled up slowly. God, I think he’s getting hotter! Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.

  Undressing the baby, she noticed his diaper was dryer than normal. Dehydration? She lowered him gingerly into the warm water. As soon as she seated him, he started to cry. Susanna’s pulse raced. Her hand shook as she dipped the washcloth, wrung it out a bit, and smoothed it gently over Junior’s chest and arms. Where’s Quinn? I need you! She kept up the routine even though the baby continued to cry. Crying will dehydrate him!

  As she was finishing up, she realized she forgot to bring a towel to the kitchen. She couldn’t leave Junior in the bath, even for a second, as he could slip under the water. She had to wait for Quinn. In a shaky voice, she began to sing the Raffi song to the baby while she wiped him down again. He whimpered, but was distracted by her voice.

  After soaking the washcloth again, she gently put it on his skin and squeezed. Water ran in rivulets down his arm, making him cry harder. She bathed him tenderly.

  Finally, Quinn came crashing through the door. “How is he?” He asked, turning the bag upside down and dumping everything on the counter.

  “I’m so glad you’re back.” She blinked back tears. “Watch him. Hold him upright while I get a towel.” When she left the room, Junior began to howl again.

  “What do I do? What do I do?” Quinn called.

  “Wait! I’m coming.” Susanna slung a towel over her shoulder and picked up the wet and slippery baby. “Read the label on the Tylenol. Give him half the dose.” She chested him and as she was wrapping the towel around him, his bowels rebelled. He let loose a stream of brown liquid all over Susanna. Horrified but afraid to drop the baby, she froze while he emptied himself.

  She turned the water in the sink on warm and washed him off. Then she shed her robe and left it on the kitchen floor. Using paper towels, she cleaned herself off, retching at the smell.

  “What’s that smell?” Quinn yelled from the other room.

  “It’ll be gone in a minute.”

  She stuffe
d all the paper towels and her robe into a plastic bag. Bye bye bathrobe. Naked, Susanna carried Junior past the living room into the bedroom.

  “What the?” Quinn muttered as she tiptoed by.

  “Don’t look. Okay? Don’t look.” She moved faster, embarrassment heating her skin.

  She diapered Junior, grabbed a onesie, and slipped An oversized T-shirt over her body before she took him to the living room.

  Quinn measured out the liquid while Susanna dressed the baby in his onesie. Quinn handed her the dropper, and she gave Junior the medicine.

  “Still smells. What happened?” Quinn turned his nose up.

  “Junior had a little accident in the kitchen. I cleaned it up. Here, fill his bottle with Pedialyte. Meet me at the rocking chair.” She rested Junior on her hip, grabbed a cloth diaper, and eased down into the rocking chair. She settled him comfortably in the crook of her elbow and began to rock him. As she sang another sweet and gentle song to him, he watched her face.

  Quinn thrust the bottle filled with Pedialyte in her hand. She offered it to Junior, but he turned away and wouldn’t take it. Susanna felt panic rise in her chest. “He has to drink this! Dehydration is dangerous.”

  “Do we have to take him to the hospital?”

  “If we can’t get him to drink this...then yeah.”

  “Rock him for a while. He’ll take it when you both calm down,” Quinn advised, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. She gave him a weak smile and took a deep breath.

  “I opened a window in the kitchen,” he whispered. She nodded.

  Junior looked at Quinn and whimpered. She sang softly to the baby.

  “I’d better take that bag out to the garbage.” Quinn disappeared out the door with the smelly plastic bag.

  Junior looked around, always turning his gaze back to Susanna when she started another verse of the song. On the next try, he took the nipple in his mouth. He drank for a bit, then he seemed to get limp in her arms, and she became terrified. Her throat went dry, and the song she sang became a whisper as she fought down panic.

  She stood up and motioned for Quinn to sit in the rocker. When he was settled, she handed the little slugger over to him. “I’ll get the thermometer.”

  She took his temperature, and it was down to 101.5. “It’s coming down!” She managed a feeble smile. Junior woke up and started to howl again. They walked the floor with him. As long as he was moving, his cry was reduced to a whimper. First Quinn paced with him, then Susanna, then Quinn again. They kept it up for an hour. Susanna’s nerves were frayed, she was scared. Quinn never left her side.

  “I’m calling Annie.” Susanna picked up her phone. She confirmed with her sister that Junior was getting over the fever. Quinn continued to walk with the baby. Finally, the medicine kicked in.

  “The little slugger is sweating. Do babies sweat?”

  “Of course they sweat. They’re human beings, Quinn.” Susanna took the infant from his hands. She mopped his brow with a baby wipe then held him to her shoulder, where he seemed to fall asleep. “You have an interview tomorrow. You’ve got to get some sleep. Go on. I can handle him from here.”

  The wood was cold against her bare legs, but she rocked Junior with the bottle until she heard another deposit in his diaper. Returning to the bedroom, she cleaned him up, put him to bed, and then slipped into the shower.

  When she came out, she spied a large T-shirt of Quinn’s laid out on her bed. Thanks, Quinn. She threw it on. Padding into the kitchen, she went over the floor and counter one more time, making sure the smell was gone and the room was spotless.

  Returning to the bedroom, she gently placed her hand on Junior’s forehead. He feels cooler! The medicine or the bath? Thank you, Annie! The baby gurgled in his sleep but didn’t awake. It was three o’clock now.

  Exhausted and scared out of her wits, Susanna slipped out into the hall. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and instead burst into tears. Leaning against the wall right outside her bedroom, she slid to the floor, her hands covering her face.

  Quinn appeared. “Are you okay?”

  “He’s cooled down. I think he’s going to be okay,” she said, nodding to him. But she didn’t stop crying. Quinn picked her up and carried her to her bed. He pulled down the comforter and got in, easing Susanna onto the bed next to him. “But I…”

  He motioned her silent with his finger to her lips before folding her into his embrace. He pulled up the covers and squeezed her hand before whispering, “Great job.” The even breathing of the baby, plus Quinn’s strong arms and warm body, soothed Susanna. She was asleep before she could answer him.

  * * * *

  The sun came in early, but the baby slept on. Susanna curled into Quinn then opened her eyes. Exhausted from the ordeal the night before, she was disoriented. In bed with Quinn, wearing only a T-shirt? What happened? He stirred, snaking his arm around her waist and spooning her from behind. His lips nuzzled her neck.

  For a moment, Susanna forgot herself in the safety he provided. She cuddled back against him, wrapping her fingers around his biceps. If things were different. Snuggling with him in bed could lead to…so many wonderful possibilities. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to dream a little about them together.

  A sweet sigh escaped her lips as he found a sensitive spot on her shoulder. His fingers made contact with her skin as they fanned out against her stomach. Her pulse kicked up as his hand approached her breast.

  As much as she wanted him, not this way. He has to know it’s me, not just some woman in his bed. Me, Susanna Barnes. God, I want him. He’s so tempting. He closed his fingers gently around her soft flesh, and she shuddered. Shutting her eyes tight, she fought with herself for control. Right now. He could take me right now. No! Have some pride!

  “Quinn?”

  “Hmm?” He muttered as his hand continued to caress her.

  “You do know it’s me, Susanna? Not one of your sexy playmates.”

  “Of course. Aren’t you a sexy playmate?” The vibration of his baritone voice against her back sent a tingle up her spine.

  “I’m the nanny,” she said, pulling down the sheets and throwing her legs over the side.

  “Love you in just a T-shirt.” She sensed his gaze on her body, and it made her warm. He rubbed his stubbly face with one hand and stifled a yawn.

  The fog surrounding her brain was slowly lifting. Taking a deep breath to keep her voice steady she replied, “It was a traumatic night.” She approached the crib just as the baby opened his eyes. He gave her a weak smile. She placed her hand on his forehead. “He’s cooler but still has a little fever.”

  Quinn shoved the covers all the way down and pushed to his feet. As he stood in his boxers, looking so cool and gorgeous, Susanna wanted to run her palms down his chest and kiss his neck. But a wry smile on his face distracted her. Focusing on his lips, hers puckered slightly as if to kiss him.

  “Let me take the little slugger while you go back to bed.”

  “It’s my job to take care of him. And he’s sick. I can’t desert him now.”

  “You’re not deserting him. You’re resting so you can continue.”

  Weariness seeped into her bones. “But you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Am I that stupid I couldn’t figure it out after watching you?”

  “Well, not stupid, just…uninformed?”

  “Not anymore. Go on, at least for an hour,” he gave her a gentle shove, and she fell into a sitting position on the bed then collapsed on her back.

  Quinn picked up Junior and brought him over to the dresser to be changed. Once the baby had a fresh diaper, Quinn picked him up. “Pedialyte?”

  “Yeah,” she said as sleep forced her eyes closed. She rolled over and scooted up to put her head on the pillow. The last thing she saw was Quinn chesting the baby with one large hand as he pulled the sheet and blanket over her with the other. She muttered a muffled “thanks.”

  “Come on, li
ttle man, time to get better.” He left the room as she drifted into slumber.

  * * * *

  By three o’clock in the afternoon, Junior’s fever was down to ninety-nine degrees. Quinn was out on interviews, and Susanna was alone in the apartment. While the baby napped, she took out her small pad and some pencils and began to sketch. First she drew Junior, then the palm trees from the terrace. So lost was she in her art, she didn’t hear Quinn come in around five o’clock.

  “You’re an artist?”

  Susanna jumped, dropping her pencils and pad. He bent down and picked them up. Their voices woke Junior, who began to cry. With a worried brow, she rushed into the bedroom, placing her hand on his forehead before all else. He was warm but not hot.

  “More medicine,” she muttered, hugging the little boy to her chest. “Come on, little J. Let’s get you changed and have a snack.” She returned to the living room in time to see Quinn put his sport jacket on a chair and rip the tie off his neck. He slumped down on the sofa and gazed out the window.

  She busied herself in the kitchen, setting Junior in the highchair while she prepared a bottle of Pedialyte. She injected the fever reducer into the liquid then opened some baby applesauce. Quinn came in as she was spooning the fruit into the tiny mouth.

  “How was your interview?”

  “Which one?” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “More than one?”

  “Yeah. The interview was okay. I met with two producers about the book.”

  “How’d you make out?” She offered the baby the bottle, and he sucked on it hungrily while his tiny fingers curled around a finger of her other hand.

  “Negative. Both times.” His voice sounded weary, defeated.

  “What’s the deal? You’re famous. You’re a draw. People will come to see it just because you’re in it. Slam dunk to me.” She turned her attention back to Junior.

  “They don’t think I can pull it off. Joe Martin image and all that crap.” He threw his tie on the kitchen table and straddled a chair, resting his chin on the back, watching her feed the baby. “How is he today?”