by Sara Daniel
“No.”
She bit her tongue over the urge to tell him how much she detested his books. “I use a recipe my grandmother brought over from Scotland. I serve plain scones along with two other flavors of the day.”
“Coffee will suffice.” He picked up his cup. “Thank you, Olivia, for your hospitality. I’m in need of a room tonight for myself and my, uh, son. A suite would be best, if possible. I’ll pay the going rate, naturally.”
He had no idea what “going rate” she offered to misguided marriage therapists. Not that it mattered. Whether he paid for his stay or not, he had to sleep under her roof. The storm didn’t leave either of them a choice. And she had plenty of rooms. Her other scheduled guests for the week had cancelled due to the weather. “Of course you need to stay. But Liam already has his own room and he’s currently asleep there.”
“From now on, he’ll stay with me.”
Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. “Dr. Paden, you’re chilled and must have had a terrible drive. Why don’t you relax and worry about yourself this evening. Liam is on a schedule where he goes to sleep before dinner and sleeps through to the early morning. I’ll introduce you to him then.”
He set down his coffee cup with an ominous clank. “I didn’t come here for coffee and scones. I came for my son. Take me to him now.”
She clasped her shaking hands behind her back. She had no legal claim to Liam. But how could she give up the child she loved to such an overbearing, pompous ass?
Chapter 2
If he hadn’t been so rattled from the whole driving into a ditch and nearly freezing to death before he reached the house, Caleb would have immediately gone to his son. After all, he’d spent nearly six hours traveling with that single goal in mind.
He followed Olivia through the foyer, summoning a herculean effort to not run past her in his impatience. She led him to an alcove with a small, discreet sign. Private residence. No guests beyond this point.
Turning the corner, she proceeded up a set of stairs so far from the fireplace room the child could have been wailing his head off and they wouldn’t have heard a peep. He’d been right to insist. From this moment on, the baby would be well cared for.
Pictures cluttered the walls, and folded clothes lay stacked on furniture at the top of the stairs. While she stepped around a Lego tower on the carpet, he stumbled over the scattered interlocking pieces. God help her if she’d done the same thing with a baby in her arms. Clearly, he had arrived just in time.
Olivia paused at a half-open bedroom door. “This is Liam,” she whispered. “You can see he’s safe and sleeping peacefully.”
Nice try keeping him from the child, but he didn’t bite. Instead he stepped toward the white crib filling half of the small bedroom. Leaning over the edge, he bumped his head on a plastic rod with a miniature monkey, giraffe, and hippopotamus attached by little strings.
In the bed, camouflaged by the monkey sheets, matching padding along all four sides, and monkey-patterned clothing lay the tiniest human he’d ever seen. Eyes closed and mouth slack open, his head turned toward Caleb, exposing the tiny pulse on his neck.
The innocent, precious child was completely at the mercy of the adults in his life.
Caleb’s chest constricted to the point of physical pain. “I won’t let you down, Liam,” he whispered.
Bending over the crib rail, he placed his hands on either side of the child. How did one lift someone so small and delicate? The baby’s entire head would fit in his palm. In news reports and in public places, people tended to lift children around the torso under the shoulders, but most of those kids raised their arms in cooperation.
“Support his head,” Olivia whispered. He hadn’t heard her approach, but she covered his hands with hers, guiding one under the baby’s head and the other under his spine as she leaned over the crib rail next to him.
On one level, her guidance bordered on intrusive. He didn’t need her instructions to care for his child. On a completely different plane, her innocent, impersonal caress shook him to the core. He understood sexual, and he understood friendship, but neither category fit. With one touch, they’d forged a connection, something he’d never addressed in his doctrine because he didn’t believe such a thing existed.
Her blue eyes widened, and she withdrew. “You have to always support Liam’s head. Otherwise, you could hurt his neck.” Her voice shook as she stepped away from the crib.
The anticipation zinging through his body stilled into disappointment. They didn’t have a connection. How could they when he didn’t know the first thing about her? They’d experienced a mutual moment of attraction—inconvenient and potentially complicated if they were stupid enough to act on it. He couldn’t afford any more stupid mistakes.
Liam sighed and shifted his tiny body. Caleb lifted him, keeping the weight of the head and neck supported by his hand. The baby wiggled and whimpered. By shifting the tiny bundle closer to him, he could create a more comfortable position for both of them, but fear of hurting the child’s delicate body prevented him from adjusting his arms.
The baby squirmed, his milky white skin flushing deep red, and he emitted an ear-piercing howl.
Oh no. He must be in pain. Maybe he wasn’t in physical pain though. Perhaps the trauma of being left alone had finally caught up with him now that he was safe in Caleb’s arms. Caleb could talk to and reason with children, but he didn’t have any experience with someone this small.
“What do I do now?” he asked Olivia.
“You’re the one who insisted on waking him up. You’re on your own.” Her voice dripped with disgust. Their connection had obviously been an awkward figment of his imagination. If she’d experienced any attraction, it had already dried up. Hopefully, his would dissipate, as well.
“You can’t leave me with him. What if I drop him or hurt him? What if I’m hurting him right now?”
She stepped behind him. Her subtle scent enveloped him and her soft breasts pressed against his back as she adjusted his arms, bringing Liam flush against his chest in a cradle hold. “You’re not hurting him. You disturbed his sleep and he’s not happy about it.”
She might as well have added, “I told you so.” Her attitude sent a shot of lust straight down his spine.
“Now you can cuddle Liam and apologize,” she said over the baby’s cries, shifting in front of him.
Thank goodness he held the baby in his arms so he couldn’t act on his stupidity by trying to cuddle her.
“Bring him downstairs when you’re ready. He usually starts looking for a bottle after he wakes up.” All her focus on the baby, she leaned over his arm and kissed the child’s forehead. “It’s all right, sweetie. You’ll get another chance for beauty sleep in a little while.”
As she smoothed her finger down Liam’s cheek, he silenced mid-wail and stared at her with wide, trusting blue eyes. Then she left the room, and the boy shifted his gaze to him.
Caleb offered his most gentle smile as he broke the news. “Hey buddy, people are spreading rumors that I’m your dad.”
The tiny face scrunched up again. His mouth opened and he howled his displeasure.
“I know you’ve had a rough start to life, but I’m going to make it better.”
The cries intensified. Liam squeezed his eyes tight and stretched his body, as if trying to wiggle away.
Um, not the reaction he’d been hoping for. The child was obviously too young or too traumatized to be reasoned with, but Caleb didn’t have an arsenal of other tactics. What had Olivia been thinking leaving him alone with a screaming baby he hadn’t been able to pick up without instructions? “You don’t like to be woken up. I get it. How about you stop crying and we can discuss what’ll make you happy?”
Liam screamed and flailed his arms, striking him in the chest. The kid already hated him for abandoning him.
* * * *
After twenty minutes of Liam’s nonstop crying, Caleb wished he’d followed the advice to let the child sleep i
n peace. He could have spent the time plotting his return to New York and checking for breaks in the weather.
Since the baby didn’t respond to verbal soothing, Caleb needed a more active approach. Skirting a wide path around the dangerous Legos, he eased down the stairs with the screaming bundle in his arms.
Olivia had mentioned a bottle, which would probably be in the kitchen, wherever that was. Before he could choose a direction, she sashayed through a swinging door with a bottle full of milk.
“Either you’re psychic or we didn’t approach with as much stealth as I thought,” he joked, trying to cover his embarrassment.
She blinked and then laughed. “Come to the sitting room to give him the bottle. I’ll help you settle in a nice comfy chair.”
“Maybe you should feed him while I watch,” he suggested, trailing behind. The baby still hadn’t recovered from Caleb’s bungled attempt to pick him up. He’d arrived to rescue the kid and make his life better. In terms of the big picture, he held the answers, but Forever didn’t address the ocean of little, practical details of raising a child.
In the doorway to the room with the fireplace, Olivia whirled toward him. “Let me get this straight. You had to rip Liam from a sound sleep in his crib because you couldn’t wait another second to get him away from me, but now that you’ve discovered actual work is involved, you want to give him back.”
“No, I don’t want to give him back, but I do need help.”
She exhaled hard, causing the loose strands of her brown hair to flutter around her face. As she crossed the room and folded a quilt over the armrest of a rocking chair, her expression softened. “Sit here. I’ll show you how to feed him.”
Trying to figure out how to repay her for her help, he sank onto the seat. “Thank you for taking care of my son. Tally up the hours you’ve spent times your hourly rate, and I’ll reimburse you for your troubles.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Liam is no trouble, and I have no interested in taking a penny for caring for him. I will, however, charge you for spending the night in The Scot’s Mansion because you do cause me trouble.”
She rubbed the nipple of the bottle across Liam’s open lips. He paused in his screaming, and then began to suck, leaving a ringing silence his wake.
Caleb covered her hand on the container, and the connection he’d experience earlier reared to life. Because of the baby. She’d bonded with the child and could help him bond. Maybe he could use her techniques to infuse stability in Liam’s life. She appeared to share his mantra of Children—First Priority.
The snowstorm gave him the opportunity to explore the tenant of friendship with her. As long as he could keep his attraction and lust under control, he might be able to give Liam the stable home he needed and find a wife who could save The Forever Marriage from its public relations nightmare.
* * * *
After Liam finished his bottle, Caleb relinquished the boy to Olivia and trudged down the driveway to the rental car for his personal belongings. The snow-covered road held no sign of his tire tracks or anyone else’s. Drifts packed against the doors, forcing him to use an abominable snowman-size effort to wrench his bag out of the vehicle.
By the time he’d returned to his assigned suite and warmed his extremities, his phone buzzed with the dinner announcement. He entered the dining room where three large chandeliers hung over a long mahogany table set for one.
“Have a seat, Dr. Paden, and I’ll bring out the first course.” Olivia stood at the far end of the table, her hands clasped in front of her. Gone were the soft sweater and rumpled hairstyle from earlier. She wore an ivory blouse buttoned all the way up her neck, a flowing print skirt and conservative black heels. Curly tendrils escaped from the austere bun at the top of her head.
“Call me Caleb, please. Aren’t you and Liam joining me?”
“No.” She uncorked a bottle of wine and poured him a glass. “My family eats separately from the guests.”
If she’d asked his preference, he would have taken a glass of milk or water over the wine. “I’m not really a guest, and Liam is my family, not yours.”
Her gaze chilled. “Would you prefer raspberry vinaigrette or honey Dijon for your salad?”
“No dressing. I’m not much for fancy sauces and glazes, so please don’t go to any trouble.” The brochure of the inn had mentioned gourmet dinners every evening. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted less.
Her expression left no doubt she thought he created a lot of trouble. Not a great start to the friendship he hoped to establish. “Austin, you can bring the soup,” she called.
A small boy carried a silver tray through the swinging doors from the kitchen.
“Butternut squash bisque,” she announced, taking a blue-rimmed china bowl from the tray and setting it in front of him.
The pale yellow-orange cream had been garnished with little brown dots of some kind of spice and a green leaf. He’d have preferred a simple vegetable or chicken noodle soup from a can.
“Can I call my dad now?” the child asked, bouncing on his toes.
So, Liam wasn’t her only charge whose parents had taken off. No wonder she dealt so deftly with the childcare details.
“As soon as we eat. You can tell Aunt Penelope that dinner is ready.”
“Okay Mom.” He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug and then dashed away.
Caleb choked on a sip of soup. “He’s your son.”
“Yes.”
Why hadn’t he considered she might be married? Caring for children and running a bed and breakfast required more work than a single person could manage. Disappointment sliced through him that he could never act on his attraction or explore their mysterious connection. “So his dad is away on a trip?”
Her fingers curled around the edge of the silver tray tight enough her knuckles turned white. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose.”
“You mean he doesn’t live here?” His internal alarm started clanging. If their relationship was in trouble, he could help them save it. “I’m a marriage therapist, so I have to ask. Occupational hazard.”
“No, he doesn’t live here. We’re divorced.”
Her words struck him like a sharp slap across the face. He’d arrived too late to save their marriage. Not only was she divorced, she had a kid who was enduring a world of misery. His progress in creating a stable home for Liam crumbled.
He needed to get his priorities straight. Attraction and connection meant nothing. Only Liam and Austin mattered. Only the children.
Chapter 3
Between setting up a port-a-crib to allow Liam to sleep in Caleb’s room and calming Austin’s fears that his dad might break his promise to attend his upcoming birthday party, Olivia was emotionally exhausted by the time she arranged the sitting room for community hour. From the direction of the guest rooms, Liam sobbed and sobbed. Abandoning her preparation of the evening’s usual scones, hot tea and liqueur, she prepared a baby bottle and a pot of coffee and then delivered them to Caleb’s door.
“I’ve tried every single one of those rattle things, light-up toys and music boxes, but he won’t stop crying,” he said.
The new environment had likely overstimulated the baby, but fighting Caleb to allow Liam to return to his usual bed would deepen the man’s resentment of her intrusion and worsen an already difficult transition. “Did you check his diaper?”
“Diaper?”
She bit her cheek to keep from laughing at his horrified expression. “It comes with the territory when you have a baby.”
“Another thing I was unprepared for,” he muttered. “Stay here in case I need backup.”
She set the coffee and bottle on his desk and then busied herself with tidying up the room so she wouldn’t be tempted to take over while he muddled his way through.
“You were right about the diaper.” His grim tone sent her pivoting toward him. “Look at the contents. I think Liam might be seriously ill.”
She leaned over the side of the crib
but didn’t notice anything unusual. “That’s a normal baby stool. He’s been sitting in it for a bit, which explains why he was throwing a fit. Change him, and he’ll be fine.”
“What do I do first?”
She studied him, trying assess if he was really clueless or just trying to get out of the chore. “Wipes.” She nudged the container toward him.
He started to reach for them as his cell phone rang. “Do you mind if I take the call?”
She rolled her eyes. Jennifer had done anything to get out of a diaper change too.
“Thanks. I owe you,” Caleb said, stepping into the hall with his phone.
Since she’d already clarified she had no interest in being paid to care for Liam, she wouldn’t collect on the debt. After she tackled the diaper, she lifted the baby from the crib to take advantage of their few precious moments alone.
Over the past months she’d started to think of Liam as hers. Her heart claimed him and strenuously objected to him being raised by someone who didn’t love him and whose fundamental values were diametrically opposed to her own.
After a few minutes of cuddling and cooing, Liam began rooting against her chest. She dimmed the bedroom lights and settled into a stuffed chair in the corner with the bottle. When the baby was halfway through the bottle, Caleb reentered the room, tucking his phone into its case on his belt. He crossed the carpet but didn’t ask to take over the feeding and she didn’t offer.
After a moment, he sat on the bed facing her. “You’ve been put in a hell of an awkward position where some strange guy comes in and takes away the child you’ve been caring for.”
She jerked her head up, causing Liam to whimper. Caressing his forehead, she reconsidered Caleb. The more time she spent with him, the more trouble she had classifying him as an insensitive blowhard. “I’ve always believed love, not biology, makes a family, in which case I’m Liam’s mother in every way that matters.”
“He’ll be well cared for from now on. I’m committed to raising him in a stable home.”
Maybe she’d given the blowhard the benefit of the doubt too soon. “A stable home is hardly the same as being cared for by someone who loves him.”