by Abby Gaines
He ran a hand through sleep-tousled hair. “What’s wrong with Ben?”
“He’s hungry, I usually give him a bottle around this time.”
Tyler’s interest in her underwear was apparently of the “out of sight, out of mind” variety. Which made it vastly unfair that he should turn up wearing only a pair of blue silk boxer shorts. Bethany had to work hard to keep her gaze on his face, well clear of his bare torso, which the briefest of glances had told her was solid, muscular and very sexy. Didn’t he know it was winter, for Pete’s sake? She ignored the fact that Tyler’s house was so warm she herself hadn’t bothered to pull on a robe.
“I thought he must be in mortal pain, he was yelling so loudly.” Tyler moved closer to look down at Ben, as if to check he was really okay.
Bethany stepped backward. “It’s the same noise he makes every night.” She pulled the bottle out of the electric warmer. “He’ll drink this pretty fast, then he’ll drop right back to sleep.”
Tyler watched as she settled herself and the baby in the armchair he’d moved into the nursery at her request. Ben latched on to the bottle the way Tyler latched on to a beer after a game of football. As the baby chugged the white stuff, his eyes traveled from Tyler to Bethany.
He smiled around the teat of the bottle, and there was a strangely adult tentativeness to it. Then his eyes fastened on Tyler’s face, and one hand flapped in a half wave. Feeling stupid, Tyler waggled a couple of fingers back…and felt an unexpected tug somewhere inside him.
Ben’s smile widened, so that milk dribbled out of his mouth.
“You’re distracting him,” Bethany griped. But as she wiped the baby’s chin with a piece of flannel that Tyler had learned was called a receiving blanket, her eyes were warm with something unfamiliar—he was startled to realize it was approval. She said, “You did an okay job with Ben at your mom’s today.”
He put a hand on his heart. “No, please, you’re gushing.”
Bethany laughed and, maybe because it was the middle of the night and she was tired, or maybe because Tyler had only just walked in and so hadn’t had time to say anything to annoy her yet, she seemed more relaxed than usual.
He soon tired of watching Ben, but it was no hardship to watch Bethany, intent on her task, her mouth soft and curved in a half smile. A lock of russet hair had fallen over one cheek, pointing toward the tip of her nose. Her T-shirt was stretched wide at the neck and as Tyler watched, it slowly slipped to bare one smooth shoulder.
That glimpse of silken smoothness was somehow even more enticing than that peek at her panties.
She tugged the bottle out from between Ben’s gums, and hefted him to the shoulder still protected by her T-shirt. Right away, the baby emitted an enormous belch. “Good boy,” she crowed.
“My mother would have smacked my behind if I’d done that,” Tyler said.
She laughed as she settled Ben in her arms to drink some more. “Not at this age, she wouldn’t have.”
When she laughed, the dimple in her chin showed up. Tyler wanted to kiss it. How bizarre that his first specific thought on how he would act on the attraction between them should be so tame. And that his desire to kiss that dimple should be so strong. Maybe Tyler was only capable of G-rated fantasies with Ben around. It was an alarming thought, which he banished by reminding himself that the dimple was just a starting point. From there, he’d move to other, more exciting places. Mmm, yes, that was better.
As if he’d floated the idea into the ether, Bethany leaned down and kissed the baby’s forehead.
A resentful noise escaped Tyler.
Her puzzled gaze met his. “Did you just…growl?”
“What if I did?”
“Why did you growl?”
“Maybe I didn’t.” But she wasn’t about to accept that, so he said, “Maybe I thought you’re spoiling Ben with all this attention.”
Which probably was the lamest thing he could have said. Laughter gurgled out of her, confirming it.
“You’re jealous because I kissed him.” Mischief warmed her eyes, and she taunted, “Jealous of a little-bitty baby.”
He scowled. “No way. Now, if you were breast-feeding him maybe…”
She wrinkled her nose, pixie style. “Ugh, that’s sick.”
“Not from where I’m sitting.”
Bethany realized his gaze had dropped down, and the way she was leaning forward, he could see right down the gaping neck of her T-shirt.
She spread a hand over the expanse of bare skin, and Tyler’s smile widened. “Grow up,” she said.
A few minutes later Ben was drawing only air from the bottle, so she sat him up and patted his back until he belched again. She glanced at Tyler. “Do you want to do his diaper?”
He scowled his answer to that, and she sighed with theatrical disappointment. She made swift work of the wet diaper and soon had Ben snugly taped up again and back into his pajamas patterned with space rockets improbably piloted by teddy bears.
Bethany eased him down, tucked the blankets around him. Ben lay with his eyes open, but he blinked with a frequency that suggested he would soon be asleep.
“Guess he had a long day,” Tyler said. “Meeting all those new people.”
She nodded. “He liked your mom.”
He shot her a glance. “You mean, you liked her.”
“That too,” she agreed. “She was really charming.”
“Mom’s a sucker for a cute smile.”
About to reply, she realized he’d said her smile was cute. And, of course, no matter how hard she fought it, no matter that he’d made what was doubtless an autopilot flirty comment, she couldn’t help smiling right then. And smiling automatically lowered her guard and allowed her to check out his torso again. No fair.
Tyler’s eyes followed the curving of her lips with enough interest to suggest that he did actually think her smile had something going for it. Then his gaze dropped lower, into territory that was clearly beyond anywhere Mrs. Warrington might find cute, and strictly within the expertise of Atlanta’s favorite playboy.
Aware of the responsive tightening throughout her body, Bethany folded her arms across her chest. “Your brother is kind of bossy.”
“He plays to his strengths.”
“And Jake is fun.”
He frowned. “He’s a workaholic.”
“I had the impression he plays hard, too. He invited me to a ball game.”
Tyler scowled. “I need you to look after Ben that day.”
“I haven’t told you when it is yet,” she said, annoyed.
“Doesn’t matter.”
She gave a hiss of irritation, and Tyler smiled.
“What I don’t understand,” she said thoughtfully, “is how come when your dad died, Max and Jake ended up at Warrington Construction, and you ended up at the foundation?”
It was a reasonable question. One Tyler wasn’t fond of answering. “My compassion and do-good instincts made me a shoo-in for the job.”
She snorted.
He wondered what she’d say if she knew the truth. That no matter how highly the rest of Atlanta regarded him, when it came to anything important, his own family had no faith in his abilities.
“How long ago did your father die?”
“It’ll be four years next month.” He glanced at Ben, whose eyes were still open. “Dad was flying his chopper, he came down in bad weather.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He nodded. “He was such a larger-than-life character, his death left a big hole in our lives. Mom’s only been herself again the last year.”
“You and your brother must miss him, too.” She plunked herself into the armchair, tugged her T-shirt down. She looked as if she was settling in for a chat Tyler didn’t want to have. He should just walk out, but to do so while Ben was still awake felt as if he’d be leaving a job half done.
Tyler eyed her bare legs—might as well get some enjoyment out of this. “Max and I haven’t been on great terms since
Dad died. I used to work in the construction business, but the first thing Max did after Dad died and the board appointed him chairman and president of Warrington Construction was fire me.”
She gaped.
“Not so much fire me,” he admitted, “as insist I take up the job at the foundation.”
“But…why?”
He leaned against the changing table. “Dad and I got on pretty well, he knew my capabilities, he had me in the company as VP of marketing.” He shrugged. “Turned out all everyone else, including Max, thought I was good for, was charming customers and making stockholders feel secure. Max decided those skills didn’t justify my inflated salary.”
Bethany looked troubled, and Tyler guessed his history had tapped into that deep vein of compassion that ran through her.
He braced himself for a whole lot of questions he didn’t want to answer. And was saved when Ben belched again. There was a wet quality to it, and when Tyler looked at the crib, he saw the boy had been sick over his sheets.
“Poor baby.” Bethany lifted him up. “Can you hold him while I change his bed?”
Tyler took Ben; he smelled of sick, but it wasn’t offensive. As Tyler watched Bethany strip the crib and put new linen on, he reflected on how helpless the little boy would be if Tyler and Bethany walked out of here right now…if no one fed him…if his mom had abandoned him in the street, rather than bringing him to Tyler’s office…
He shook off the unpleasant thoughts. Ben was safe, he had Bethany lavishing love on him, and Tyler providing for his material needs.
“Maybe I should start a trust fund for him,” he pondered aloud.
Bethany looked up from the sheets she was tucking in with precise hospital corners and chuckled.
“You find his lack of financial security amusing?” Tyler said loftily.
“That’s so typical of you. Ben starts to look as if he might need something, and you think of money.”
“Money’s good,” Tyler said.
“I know why you woke up when Ben did tonight.” Her smugness would have been irritating if it hadn’t been so cute.
“It was the nightmares I had from changing that stinking diaper at Mom’s place today.”
She tsked. “It’s because when you were forced to look after Ben today, you bonded with him.”
He recoiled. “No, I didn’t.”
“You feel something for him.”
“Only disgust at his stinkiness.” Tyler didn’t know why, but he felt he had to convince her of that.
She sent Tyler that disapproving look he knew so well. But for some reason, most likely because of her preposterous theory about him bonding with Ben—how could he bond with someone who couldn’t talk, couldn’t understand and probably didn’t have a clue who Tyler was?—the look was mellower than usual.
“He’ll need clean pajamas, too,” she said. While Tyler held Ben, she removed his clothing. When the cool air hit him, the baby instinctively snuggled against Tyler, who equally instinctively cupped the back of Ben’s head with his hand.
She rummaged through the dresser drawer, pulled out a pale blue terry sleeper, turned around. “Here we—”
Bethany stopped, mesmerized.
“What?” Tyler said defensively.
“You and Ben,” she said. “You’re cuddling him.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m keeping him warm. I am not bonding.”
“I wish I had my camera,” she said. “I’d make a killing in the greeting-card business.”
His dark eyebrows drew together. “Excuse me?”
“You know. Gorgeous near-naked guy holding gorgeous, near-naked baby. On second thought, it’s an advertiser’s dream. We could sell aftershave.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Except she suspected from the quirk of his lips he had gleaned that she thought he was gorgeous.
“It’s the sort of thing that turns women on,” she explained, and added hastily, “Emotionally.”
“Emotional turn-on, huh?” His tone said, Right. His gaze held hers.
“Only very late at night,” she said, and suddenly it seemed neither of them was talking emotional.
Without warning, he leaned forward and planted a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. Its very brevity made it demanding, hot. She wanted more, wanted to protest she hadn’t had time to register the exact firmness of his lips.
She stepped backward, mustered coolness. “Don’t do that again.”
“Why not?” His eyes narrowed. “You liked it.”
Was liking it what made her mouth burn, made her feel as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks, made her want to reach out and—
She did reach out, but only to take Ben from Tyler. “You told me you wouldn’t act on your one-sided—” her voice shook, making a liar of her “—attraction to me unless I gave you a signal.” She took refuge in self-righteousness. “Did I give you any kind of signal?”
“Not consciously,” he admitted. “But you were talking about turn-ons.”
“I was talking about emotions.” She laid Ben on the changing table, slipped him into his clean pajamas. Without looking at Tyler she said, “For someone who’s supposedly good with women, you can be pretty dense.”
Tyler’s chuckle carried all the confidence of a man who knew everything about women’s responses to him. “Whatever you say.”
She slipped Ben back under his covers. His eyes closed immediately.
“Looks like my work here is done,” Tyler said. He took a step toward Bethany, his eyes on her mouth.
“I told you…” Bethany warned.
She was ready to jerk away from an attempted kiss—she didn’t expect him to reach around and pat her bottom. His touch made her leap forward, so she bumped into him.
“See, Peaches, you can’t keep away from me.” Tyler tapped her nose with his finger, then sauntered from the room, his bare shoulders golden in the dimmed light.
Bethany sat down heavily in the armchair, touched an experimental finger to her lips. It couldn’t be true. No way could one kiss, followed by one pat on her bottom, have pulled together all the pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t even known existed.
Tyler had been right all along. She wanted him.
BY WEDNESDAY, Tyler was sleep deprived and sex starved. Every night since Sunday, he’d been woken by Ben crying for his middle-of-the-night meal.
Every night, he tried hard to ignore the wailing. But even after it stopped, even when he was certain Bethany must be with Ben by now, something compelled him to go and check.Of course, she was there every time, always dressed in some horrible item of nightwear bearing the logo of an academic institution or pictures of fast food. There was that panty-baring MCG T-shirt, a longer and thus less appealing—to Tyler—Emory University Hospital sweatshirt, a pair of shortie pajamas with rather phallic hot dogs on them. They all led Tyler to one conclusion. Bethany had great legs.
Only for looking at, not for touching. Because no matter how conscious Tyler was of that attraction, her extreme cussedness meant she continued to deny it was mutual. She’d told him not to kiss her again, and he’d decided to respect that, mainly with the intention of driving her crazy with longing for him.
But he was the one who couldn’t forget that brief, sweet sensation of her lips beneath his. He was the one whose imagination had bought a season ticket to a quite extraordinary variety show. He was certain Bethany was having the same thoughts—he saw it in her skittishness every time he showed up in the middle of the night. She went out of her way to avoid bumping into him, and since he’d planted that kiss on her, she’d barely met his eyes. He just had to get her to admit the obvious.
Then they could all get some sleep. And some other things, too.
ON THURSDAY MORNING, Tyler called Bethany from work.
“The investigator just came by. He thinks he’s found Ben’s mother.”Tyler explained that an old lady had informed the investigator that her young neighbor had looked pregnant but had denied it repeatedly. “She’s
a whole lot thinner now,” the old woman reported, “and there’s no sign of a baby.”
Bethany thought about the footage she’d seen so many times of Ben’s mother leaving him at the Warrington Foundation. Although the mother’s face was almost entirely concealed by her black woolen hat and a long knitted purple scarf, Bethany had decided she was young, mainly on the basis of her loping walk.
Why had she given Ben away? Did she want him back?
I don’t want to give him back.
The possessiveness that gripped Bethany shocked her. Ben wasn’t hers, wasn’t Tyler’s.
“Is social services going to check her out?”
“I haven’t talked to them yet. I thought,” Tyler said, unusually hesitant, “maybe you and I should visit her first.”
“But social services—”
“She’s not necessarily his mother,” he said. “And if she is, and if she’s just a kid who’s been in a difficult situation, we may be able to help smooth things with the authorities.”
Bethany approved of his compassion. That just left one hitch. “You want us to go together?”
“Of course together,” he said, irritated.
Apart from those inevitable—and oddly intimate—midnight sojourns in the nursery, Bethany had been trying to stay out of his way. He’d been putting in his two hours a day with Ben, and on each occasion she handed Ben over, then left him to it. Because now that she’d realized she…liked him, every contact fanned the attraction.
How could she like someone as selfish as Tyler? If she was ever to fall for a guy—this is sexual attraction, I’m not falling—it would be someone who would put her first. Who would, when the time came, put their children first.
“If she’s a kid, she might need reassuring she’s not in trouble,” Tyler said. “And she might prefer to talk to a woman.”
“We’ll go together,” Bethany agreed.
She tried to imagine handing Ben back to his mom. Maybe it wouldn’t be that straightforward, depending on the circumstances. Maybe Ben would stay a little longer—
What was she thinking? Tyler didn’t want to keep Ben, he wasn’t father material. Bethany had only been here ten days, but she had the sudden feeling it was high time she got back to her real work. High time she got away from Tyler’s increasingly captivating presence.