by JJ Knight
His hand would work magic, running along the slit between my legs, then slipping inside.
I suck in a breath and Dell must hear it because he turns in my direction.
Even though he can’t possibly see me in the dark, I scramble to move back to my proper place in the bed, my head on the pillow, my legs beneath the sheet.
Then all is quiet and still. My panic settles back into interest. Dell Brant. Nearly naked, just a few yards away.
I want to will him to come check on me, fill the door frame to the bathroom with his bare chest and strong legs. I’d slide over, moving the sheet out of his way.
I can almost feel the weight of him on me. This time his mouth doesn’t come in for a kiss, but slips over the peak of a breast, his hot breath teasing my nipple.
I close my eyes, my hand on my own body, wishing it with all my might.
Just before I finally drift off to sleep, I start to rethink my decision to avoid him.
Maybe Dell is a good choice to bump me out of my rut.
To get rid of this self-inflicted ignorance I have about sex.
To have what other women want from him. A fling. A wild romp. A small piece of his life.
I just might be ready to let this happen.
Chapter 23: Dell
If anybody tries to say I’m not a goddamn gentleman, I’ll smash their face.
Between letting the damn dog stay in the baby room and allowing Arianna to go back to sleep — alone — I’m like a bastion of good behavior.
I head back to the weight room to silently finish my workout. No music. And apparently no free weights. I heard one clink and decided nope. I was not going to be the cause of waking my girls up a second time.
My girls. What the hell was that?
I drop to the mat for fifty more ab crunches. Just because I’m pissed at my brain for thinking that phrase, I add a thirty-pound disc weight to my chest.
These are not my girls. Arianna will jet the moment I hire a real babysitter. Nanny. Whatever.
And Grace. God. She’ll be gone as soon as the DNA comes back.
Which needs to happen. Like yesterday.
The sit-ups are grueling, and blissfully obliterate my thoughts for a while. I play AC/DC in my head while I complete another circuit. Silently.
Headphones. I will invest in killer headphones tomorrow.
It’s almost two in the morning by the time I kill the lights and walk back through the house. I’ll take a quick shower and be in bed right on time.
At least this part of my routine is uninterrupted.
I pause by Grace’s room. Maximillion’s head lifts, his ear cocked. He’s mostly a shadow at the base of the bed.
I slap my leg to call him, but he looks at me and still doesn’t budge.
Damn dog. Switched allegiances on me.
Then I see a little movement in the bed. A fist or a foot.
I walk closer.
Grace is lying awake, arms waving, just looking around.
Huh. I didn’t know they did that. Just sat around thinking their baby thoughts.
When she sees me, her eyes get big. Then her mouth opens.
I know what’s coming.
Before she can let out a wail to wake Arianna, I pick her up.
I know the trouble right away. The smell is terrific.
“You’re a real stinker, you know that?” I say.
Maximillion stands up and sniffs the air. He lets out a little dog groan and trots out of the room.
“Man’s best friend, eh?” I say after him.
Then to Grace, “You think I can do this?”
She gazes at me with solemn eyes.
“Well, you didn’t say no,” I say.
I hold her out as we move to the bathroom. I don’t want to squish that diaper even more by cradling her.
I peer into Arianna’s room. She’s asleep on the bed, the sheet kicked off. I use my elbow to close the door so she won’t hear us and wake.
It’s pretty dim in the bathroom with only the lamp light from the nursery.
“I remember this from when I was a kid,” I tell Grace. “Watch and learn.”
I set her on the curved mat and pull a towel from the rack.
“Roll it just so,” I say, turning the flat towel into an oblong tube. Then I stuff it at the base of the door so light won’t leak out beneath it.
I flip on the light. Grace reacts instantly, throwing her arms over her face.
“Oh, sorry, sorry,” I say. I glance around, pick up another towel, and cover her eyes. “Better?”
Her arms come down and she wiggles, pulling at the towel like we’re about to engage in a game of peekaboo. I guess that’s a yes.
The one-piece sleeper looks complicated. There are snaps from her neck down the front. Then they continue down both her legs like the letter Y. I move her feet around, trying to study the pattern. Otherwise I’ll never get her back together.
When I’m sure I can replicate the fastenings, I begin unsnapping.
“We’re going to follow the example Miss Arianna set,” I tell her. She’s knocked the towel off her face with her wiggles, but she seems okay with the light now.
I reveal the diaper and keep unsnapping. “Lift. Wipe. Remove diaper. Wipe again. New diaper,” I say. “Or is it wipe, then lift?”
My phone is in my room. I can’t use the diaper Wiki to refresh my memory.
“How hard can this be?” I ask.
I pull her legs out of the little pants. Immediately I see a problem. Yellow goo everywhere. It’s leaked out of the diaper and onto her clothes.
“What sort of cut-rate diapers are these?” I ask. “I’m going to buy this company and force them to redesign.”
What a mess. I look around for the wipes. A closed box. Great. I have to let go of Grace to pry them open. By the time I have one, her wiggles have smeared stuff everywhere. And I haven’t even opened the diaper yet.
I will not wake Arianna. I will do this.
I pull out three wipes and line them up on the counter. I can only hope they will be enough. I rip off the stick tabs holding the diaper closed and brace myself.
Whoa. It’s chaos down there. One wipe barely makes a dent. I drag the trash can out with my foot and drop the wipe in it. A second one means I can see skin.
After the third I feel like I can at least move the diaper. Forget the neat ball Arianna made. I just drop it in the trash.
Grace thinks all this is hilarious, smiling and kicking up a storm. I wrench open the wipe container again and pull out a fourth one.
It takes five wipes to get her clean.
“I should have just dunked you in the sink,” I say.
The new box of diapers is on the corner of the counter, unopened. I pry it open and extract one.
“I assume the fish go in front,” I say to her. It’s a different brand. Good. The others were substandard.
She doesn’t argue about the placement of the fish.
On this supposition, I slide the diaper beneath her.
But the fasteners on this one are different as well. It has Velcro on the tabs. “How many kinds of diapers are there?” I ask.
I look around for a bit of matching Velcro to align with the tab, but there isn’t any. It doesn’t stick to the white part of the diaper. It doesn’t seem to stick anywhere.
“How is this done?” I ask her.
She gurgles with a silly grin.
I push hard on the tab and it makes something approximating a connection to the diaper. I can’t put the soiled sleeper back on, so I pull her arms out of it.
Back in her room, Maximillion looks up, sniffing again. He’s back at the base of her bed.
“She no longer offends your sensibilities,” I say to him. I open the various drawers. The other sleepers have a million snaps as well, so I just grab the “Genius” shirt and the tights. They are easy, just sliding up her legs with elastic. And the shirt is normal. Really, I don’t understand the point of outfits with a thousand
snaps.
I pick her up and sit in the chair. “You going to stay up all night?” I ask her.
But she’s already heavy in my arms, eyes closing in the dim light.
It won’t take long for her to fall asleep.
As we rock, my thoughts drift to Arianna in the next room. Sleeping on my weight bench. The kiss. She’d responded, heavy with sleep. Her eagerness sent my cock raging and promised a good match.
Until she rejected me.
The housekeeper was right. A chair that rocks really helps.
It really makes you sleepy…
Chapter 24: Arianna
I expect to wake to the cries of the baby, so I’m surprised when it’s the sun slanting through the blinds that gets me first.
I peer at the grandfather clock on the dresser. It’s after eight!
I jump out of bed and hurry through the bathroom to the baby’s room. I imagine all sorts of things. That the mother came back and kidnapped her. That she was smothered in the improper bedding. SIDS. A heart defect.
But the sight I find is completely unexpected.
Dell, asleep in the dining chair we moved to the room.
Grace, asleep on his chest.
His bare feet are propped on Max, his dog.
The greyhound looks up at me with weary eyes, as if to say, can I please move now?
“You’re a good dog,” I say.
Dell snaps awake. He looks around, trying to get his bearings. Grace slides a little, and he tightens his grip on her. “What?”
I watch as it all comes back to him. The baby. The room. Me.
“I’ll take her,” I say. I reach for Grace and shift her from his chest to my arms.
My skin connects with his, and that fire flares in me. I haven’t forgotten my decision from last night. And seeing him there with the baby this morning hasn’t hurt his case.
Dell leaps from the chair. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight.”
“Shit,” he says. “Shit, shit.”
He takes off out of the room. I follow him for a few steps, then shrug. He’s here. I’m here. It’s another day waiting for test results.
Grace stirs as I head back to my own room. I send a quick text to Taylor that I’m still tied up with the baby situation and to hold down the fort. She writes back to say all is well. Every teacher arrived that morning, and Maria is back on organization duties.
I let out a sigh. That’s always the big problem, handling any last-minute staff absences. I tell her to use Maria as a floater if needed during the day and that I will be upstairs if anything needs my attention.
When I set down my phone, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Dell’s comment yesterday that I had to micromanage my substandard employees was dead wrong. I don’t even have to be there today.
“Let’s get you a bath,” I tell Grace. “Then we’ll scare up some breakfast.”
Grace gurgles in return. She seems happy this morning. She’ll need feeding soon, but if she’s content, I’ll wait.
We don’t have a proper baby tub and she’s too small for the regular bathtub, but the sink will work fine. I run the water, waiting for the perfect temperature, humming to Grace.
I set her on the changing pad and pull the “Genius” shirt off.
Wait. She wasn’t wearing that last night.
I spot the sleeper on the counter. Obviously she soiled it.
“Did Dell change you last night?” I ask. I’m impressed. He did it without waking anyone or having a cow. Maybe he’s going to be all right after all.
Grace babbles in response. I tug off her pants.
Then laugh out loud. The diaper comes off with them. They aren’t fastened in any way, just held in place by the leggings.
Dell hadn’t attached the Velcro.
“Your daddy is silly,” I say before I catch myself. He might not be the father. But Grace takes no notice, happily waving her arms.
I check the water and fill the sink, adding a few drops of baby wash. It suds lightly, and I feel happy and content as I slide Grace into the water.
She loves the feeling, smiling and kicking to make a splash.
“You like that, huh?” I tug a washcloth from the towel rack and smooth it over her soft baby skin.
My throat tightens a little as I realize how good this feels. Maybe being a mother is something I want for myself after all.
Grace beams up at me as I elongate the bath, letting her play. “You need some water toys,” I say. It seems like we bought a million things yesterday, but really there was so much more. I wonder if Dell would be up for another trip. We could go to a boutique store this time, since we have all the diapers and basics.
“Let’s run up his credit card,” I say to her.
She smiles. She agrees wholeheartedly.
Finally the water cools, so I pull her out and dry her off. I take my time giving her lotion and clean clothes, savoring her sweet smell and the quiet peace of a lazy morning. She looks adorable in the race car romper.
Then my stomach growls. Grace looks up at me as if realizing she is hungry too. Her forehead crumples.
I glance down at my T-shirt and pajama pants. “At least one of us is ready to face the day,” I tell her.
But I don’t have time to change. We need a bottle before she starts wailing.
I cradle her and pad out into the hall. “Hello?” I call.
Bernard materializes by the kitchen door. “Yes, madam?”
“Are there any bottles ready?” I ask.
“I’ve kept one on hand,” he says. “Let me warm it.”
I stay in the hall, jiggling Grace. I wonder if Dell is in his room, or maybe the study. All the bedroom doors are closed other than mine and Grace’s.
I walk down to the living room. The study is open, so I cross to peek in.
Light creates a pattern across the enormous oak desk, the conference table, the arrangement of a love seat and two chairs.
But no Dell.
He must be showering or something.
Grace starts to fuss, so I walk with a bouncy step, keeping her as calm as I can. When we make it to the kitchen, Bernard is just fishing the bottle out of a pan of hot water.
“They make a special machine for heating bottles,” I tell him. “We have an industrial-sized one in the day care.”
“This is no bother,” he says and passes the milk to me.
I test it on my wrist, which seems to annoy him. But he says nothing. It’s the perfect temperature. Of course.
I slide the nipple into Grace’s mouth and walk to the breakfast nook. Max isn’t by the door to his atrium as usual. I peer in. He’s completely conked out on a rug near the back wall.
Rough night for him too.
I walk back through the kitchen, where Bernard is mixing eggs. “Omelet, madam?” he asks.
“Sounds great,” I say. I’m famished.
“Give me a few minutes.”
I pass on through and back to the hall. This time I walk down to the last door, Dell’s bedroom. I listen carefully. I can’t hear anything.
Huh.
I return to Grace’s room to give her the bottle in the chair. Maybe she’ll take a nap after this and I can shower. I’m sure I look an absolute fright.
The bottle is just about empty when Bernard appears in the doorway. “Your omelet is in the warmer when you’re ready,” he says.
I glance down at Grace. She is happy and kicking, nowhere near sleep. I shrug. I can eat an omelet with one hand.
By the time I make it to the breakfast nook, Bernard has already set the table with my omelet, toast, orange juice, and coffee.
“Thank you, Bernard,” I say, propping the baby in my arm.
He nods and disappears into the depths of the kitchen.
I attack the egg with a ferocity seconded only by when I pick up the coffee cup. I don’t usually take it black, but today it feels perfect. Hot and strong.
When the cup is empty, Bernard is already
there with the coffeepot.
How does he do that?
“Has Dell already had breakfast?” I ask.
“Mr. Brant does not eat breakfast at home,” Bernard says. “He has a chef at the office.”
Or Cap’n Crunch in his desk, I think with an inward smile. “When will he leave?”
Bernard’s face is perfectly impassive as he says, “He left some time ago.”
“Oh!” I look down at Grace. It must have been during her bath.
A buzz sounds and Bernard excuses himself and walks away. I’m still reeling from the fact that Dell just left me with this child when Bernard returns with a woman I recognize.
“Ms. Hart?” she asks, confusion on her face as she takes in the baby, my outfit, and my hair.
I stand up quickly. It’s Carrie, a sub I use regularly. “Hey,” I say. “You’re here for the nanny position?”
She nods, her eyes wide. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
“Emergency help,” I say. “It was a special situation.”
“So you know this young woman?” Bernard asks.
“Yes,” I tell him. “She works for me all the time.”
“And you think she is good with children?” His expression hasn’t changed.
“Um, sure,” I say. “She’s been a valuable substitute for me for about a year.”
Bernard turns to her. “Then you are hired. Can you start immediately?”
Carrie’s expression is of shock. She hasn’t even said anything. “I think so. I’m not busy today.”
“Excellent,” Bernard says. “I’ll show you to the room.”
The room! My stuff is in there.
Bernard leads Carrie down the hall. I look down at Grace. She kicks her little bare feet. What is going on here?
I hurry after them. When I get to the room, I’m aghast. The bed is made. My things are repacked. He must have done it while I ate breakfast.
“This looks good,” Carrie says. “Does he want a live-in?”
“He would prefer it,” Bernard says.
“We haven’t discussed salary,” Carrie says.
Bernard tugs a card from his pocket. He hands it to Carrie. “We’re currently looking for someone through Monday afternoon, with a move to permanent if everything falls into place.”