The Diaper Diaries

by Abby Gaines

  “I had to be blackmailed into it,” he reminded her.

  “There is that,” she said, relieved.

  He folded his arms across the powerful chest that she realized she’d seen naked more often than clothed. A smile played on those firm lips. “You really think I’m great with Ben?”

  “Occasionally,” Bethany said, because he didn’t need a bigger ego.

  He surprised her by looking thoughtful instead of pleased with himself. So she added honestly, “I might even have misjudged your commitment to the foundation.”

  “Is that so?”

  “At first I thought you didn’t take it seriously, that you enjoyed the social aspects and didn’t care about the people you help.”

  “What’s changed your mind?” he said cautiously.

  “You’ve worked so hard on publicity, all those media interviews you’ve done the last couple of weeks. You’re becoming almost as boring on the subject of family issues as I am about kidneys.”

  “No way,” he said, shocked.

  She smiled. “And there’s nothing in it for you, you’re doing it all for the foundation. I…admire that.”

  Tyler shifted in his seat. “Let me guess, this is a ploy to get me to listen to your Kidneys 101 lecture.” He sure as hell hoped it was—the last thing he wanted was Bethany seeing him as some kind of hero.

  Naturally, she wasn’t able to pass up the opportunity.

  “I’ll keep this lecture short,” she said, “out of deference to your attention span for any subject other than yourself.”

  She didn’t seem to be able to pass up the chance to have a dig at him either, Tyler thought, amused. Her foot brushed his under the table, gaining her his full attention.

  “How would you feel if Ben had kidney disease? If, unless the doctors were able to learn more about his condition, that disease would kill him?”

  Pain slammed through Tyler, winding him. Was she trying to break some bad news? “He’s not sick, is he?”

  She shook her head. “That’s the situation my patients and their families are in.”

  Tyler regrouped his emotions. “That was a low tactic,” he said coldly. “Don’t do it again.”

  She looked down her nose at him, unrepentant. “I’ve said all I wanted to say. Think about it.”

  TYLER DIDN’T THINK about kids with kidney disease that night, not once. But he did think about Bethany.

  She’d sneaked into his mind subtly, infuriatingly, at first only with the odd stray, usually negative, thought, but now she’d launched a full-scale invasion of his mental space.There was no reason for it, Tyler thought as he stared unseeing at the computer screen on his desk the next morning. Except, maybe, that by not telling him much about herself, she’d intrigued him enough to make him want to know more.

  Many of the women Tyler dated were Atlanta socialites whose families he’d known for years, their pedigrees a matter of public record. And as most women were keen to talk about themselves, he usually ended up knowing way more than he ever wanted to about them.

  What did he know about Bethany?

  That she was prickly and defensive about her work, yet ready to laugh at her own expense about anything else. That she was small-minded enough not to tell Sabrina about the gunk in her hair, yet compassionate to the point of self-sacrifice for sick kids. That she attacked Tyler’s ego with all guns blazing, yet she lavished tenderness on Ben. That she kissed like a dream.

  Get a grip. Tyler hauled his wandering mind back to the facts he knew about Dr. Bethany Hart. She’d studied medicine at the Medical College of Georgia. She worked at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, on the Emory University campus. He cast around for more hard facts. He had no idea about former boyfriends, lovers…and decided ignorance was much better for his peace of mind. He knew she had parents in Madison, a brother, and a sister who’d died. Of kidney disease.

  Which must have been a big deal, big enough to set the course of her life. Yet she’d never mentioned it again, not even when she was haranguing Tyler for money. He needed to find out more.

  OLIVIA HAD GIVEN the cardiologist his marching orders. He was showing alarming signs of thinking long-term, and she’d resolved she wouldn’t get engaged again until she found a man who would love her above all else.

  Of course, she’d made the mistake before of thinking she’d found such a man—seven times—but she was starting to realize that was because she’d been looking at the wrong kind of man. She dated men who liked to be seen with a beautiful woman, one who fit right into their expensive homes and wealthy lifestyles.She needed a man who would care more about her than he did about life’s accoutrements. A man like Silas, who was not only incredibly attractive, but also a physics professor at Georgia State, who thought deeply about things and, more important, cared deeply. Yet who still had a reassuringly large fortune, to judge by his house, his car.

  Olivia couldn’t think why she hadn’t dated a man like him before.

  The things she didn’t like about Silas—his dress sense, his droning on about frogs, his tendency to stare into space saying nothing—could be fixed in a jiffy.

  He arrived at her place at six on Wednesday night, right on time.

  “Hello, Olivia.” He stepped into her home without looking left or right, no curiosity about her environment discernible.

  But as she led him through the house, she felt his eyes on her back, on her hips as they moved in her slim-cut black velvet skirt, as surely as if they’d been his hands, and was glad she’d dressed up.

  It was more than he’d done. Although his plaid shirt looked clean, his jeans had the beginnings of a hole in one knee and his overcoat was as disreputable as ever.

  But—she hugged the knowledge to herself, didn’t betray by so much as a smile that she’d noticed—Silas had shaved.

  In place of that rough stubble was smooth male skin that tempted Olivia to reach out and touch.

  Instead, she wrapped her hands around a hundred-dollar bottle of merlot and offered him a glass.

  He accepted, to her relief. She’d worried his eco-warrior attitude might extend to most of life’s pleasures, though the Maserati had afforded her some hope.

  Since this was supposed to be a business meeting, she steered him to the dining room table. Silas opened his battered briefcase—his battered Gucci briefcase—and withdrew a rough outline for his pitch, along with some of the background material.

  He spread the documents across the table and invited Olivia to take a look. He stood next to her, explaining, in his sexy voice, which photos, charts and statistical information he considered most useful.

  It had to be the contrast between those polished vowels and his rough appearance that made Olivia’s insides curl in on themselves with excitement. He left her short of breath, long on giddy anticipation.

  As she gave him her views on the presentation and what he should be covering, it was impossible to tell if she had the same impact on him. Once or twice, she thought she saw him glancing at her legs when she moved and the slit at the side of her dress parted. And his gaze rested on her cleavage for several seconds as she leaned over the table to look at the state map that showed the location of the red-spotted tree frog’s habitats.

  If only she could be certain he was actually thinking about her cleavage, rather than those blasted frogs.

  She poured him a second glass of wine, but when it was only half-full he reached out, covered her hand with his and tilted the bottle upright.

  “No more for me.”

  His fingers interlaced with hers around the bottle—his thick and roughened, hers pale, pink-tipped.

  Olivia couldn’t drag her gaze away from the contrast. She sensed him looking down at her, and a strange shyness stopped her from looking back, even though she longed to show him how much she liked him.

  Then his hand twisted, broke the contact, and he took the bottle from her. He stood it on the table, moved away so there were several feet of space between them, and she wondered i
f she’d imagined the whole charged moment.

  She cleared her throat. “How did you get interested in the frog?”

  “Through my wife,” he said.

  Her stomach caved in. “You—you’re married?” Everything changed in the blink of an eye, leaving her feeling naive and very foolish.

  “Widowed,” he said. “Anna died two years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, ashamed of the relief she felt. “Was she sick?”

  He shook his head. “She had an accident out at the frog sanctuary she’d established—the preservation of the red-spotted tree frog was her life’s work. She slipped and fell at the edge of a pond. Hit her head on a rock and drowned.”

  “Silas, that’s awful.” Olivia swallowed. “Was she a scientist too?”

  “A biologist.”

  “She must have been smart.” Olivia had spent her three years in college organizing sorority parties. She’d passed one exam, more or less by accident. She’d quit before they threw her out.

  “Anna was smart,” he agreed. “And kind, and good.” He added, almost belligerently, “I loved her very much.”

  “Of course you did.” It was the depth of Silas’s feelings that had first attracted Olivia to him. “You must have been very happy.”

  For the first time since they’d met, he didn’t look her directly in the eye. “Before the accident, I was involved in an international physics project, which meant a lot of travel. I…neglected Anna. She was unhappy when she died.” He sounded wretched.

  Olivia didn’t know how best to comfort him. Awkwardly, she reached for his hand, clasped it between hers.

  “That’s why I’m on sabbatical from Georgia State.” He lifted his gaze. “I’m taking a year out to secure the future of the Anna Grant Frog Sanctuary.”

  Olivia knew she absolutely should not feel jealous of a woman she’d never met, a woman who’d died tragically. “It’s a beautiful gesture,” she managed to say.

  His mouth twisted. “It’s better than nothing. Though my kids don’t see it that way.”

  “You have kids?”

  “A son and a daughter, Paul and Jemma. But,” he said heavily, “they don’t speak to me. They haven’t forgiven me for upsetting their mother. I don’t blame them.”

  He looked so remorseful, Olivia wanted to shake him. She couldn’t believe Anna had been unhappy. Not with a husband who loved her enough to take over her cause after her death.

  Silas moved around the table, gathering his papers. “Thank you for your help tonight, I appreciate it.”

  “Would you like to stay for dinner? It’s just leftovers.” Actually, it was a freshly cooked chicken-and-mushroom casserole.

  He looked at her, looked away. “I don’t think so.” He sounded distant, distracted again.

  She followed him out to the entryway, where he took his coat off the hook, pulled it on. He shoved his hands into its pockets.

  Olivia said, “Silas, do you ever have that coat cleaned?”

  He looked down at her in surprise. “Not much point. I go out to the frog sanctuary fairly regularly, just to think about things, and I often end up with a frog or two in my pocket.”

  She shuddered.

  A beat-up Chevy truck sat outside her front door, alerting her neighbors to his presence. She’d have to say she was interviewing a new gardener. She wondered why Silas hadn’t brought the Maserati. Hopefully, of course, he had no idea she knew of its existence.

  As he climbed into the truck, he said, “Can we do this again? Maybe at my place on Saturday morning? I should have a clearer idea of this presentation by then. We could start on the PowerPoint.”

  “Of course.” Olivia’s heart skipped and her mouth developed the irrepressible curve of a sixteen-year-old with a crush. “Uh, what’s your address?”

  The corners of his mouth moved in the tiniest smile. “I haven’t moved since Friday night.”

  Drat.

  BETHANY’S BROTHER, Ryan, arrived at Tyler’s house at five o’clock on Friday.

  She hugged him, delighted to see his awkward, angular face.“Nice place,” he said with a fifteen-year-old’s casual interest as he looked around Tyler’s open-plan living and dining room.

  “Nice enough,” she agreed. “Come and meet Ben.” The baby was in his high chair, and she set Ryan to feeding him while she made a start on the hamburgers she’d planned for their meal.

  An hour later, they were just sitting down to eat, when Tyler walked into the kitchen.

  Bethany’s knife clattered onto her plate. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here.” He headed for Ryan, who’d stood and was wiping his mouth with his napkin. “I’m Tyler Warrington, you must be Bethany’s brother.”

  “Ryan,” Ryan agreed. He shook hands with Tyler.

  “I thought you had a concert,” Bethany persisted.

  Tyler said to Ryan, “This must be what it’s like to be married. So glad I never took the plunge.”

  She glared. “Unfortunately, marriage does require one to think of someone other than oneself. I doubt you’re suited to it.”

  “I always thought it was for people who’d run out of ideas,” Tyler returned.

  Ryan was glancing from one to the other, looking slightly shocked.

  “Sorry, Ryan,” Tyler said, “your sister is such an interesting conversationalist, I sometimes forget my manners.”

  “Sometimes…” Bethany muttered. More loudly, she said, “There are extra hamburgers if you’d like some.”

  Tyler loaded up a plate with burger and salad, then joined them. Between mouthfuls, he asked Ryan a few questions, eventually eliciting the information that Ryan was on a weekend away from his boarding school near Atlanta.

  “Why do you go to boarding school?” Tyler asked. “Aren’t there good schools in Madison?”

  Ryan’s mouth turned sullen. “Mom and Dad don’t want me around.”

  Bethany got over her surprise that Tyler had remembered her hometown and tried to forestall a conversation that could only give him too much information. “That’s not true,” she scolded Ryan. To Tyler, she said, “Mom hasn’t been well for a long time. I boarded through most of high school, and now Ryan’s doing the same.”

  Ryan made a gagging noise. “You don’t believe that crap any more than I do. They sent me to an elementary boarding school when I was eight. They’d have sent me to boarding preschool if they could.”

  “Ryan…” Bethany sent Tyler a helpless look, pleading with him to drop the subject.

  Tyler didn’t even consider complying. When had she ever paid the slightest attention to his requests that she drop the subject of her work? “What exactly is wrong with your mom?”

  “Nothing,” Ben said. “I get on her nerves and so does Bethany. So does anyone who’s not Melanie.”

  Bethany closed her eyes, evidently giving up the fight.

  “You were only a baby when Melanie died, weren’t you?” Ryan hadn’t been much older than Ben.

  Some of the resentment drained out of Ryan at Tyler’s reasonable tone. He sagged back in his chair, nodded. “I don’t remember her, I only ever saw photos.”

  “Do you look like her?” There was a clear resemblance between Ryan and Bethany, in the russet color of their hair and in the shape of their faces, though Ryan had brown eyes.

  “Some,” the boy said. He fidgeted with his fork, flipping it between his fingers. “I never really knew Mom and Dad, not the way they were before Melanie got sick. They probably used to be okay.”

  “Melanie had a rare blood type that made a kidney transplant almost impossible,” Bethany said. “Dad had the same blood type, but he couldn’t donate because he had only one kidney.” Seeing Tyler’s shock, she said, “A single kidney isn’t that unusual—most people born that way never realize they don’t have two. Anyway, Mom and Dad had some very stressful years.” To Ryan, she added, “But they love you. And me.”

  “They loved Melanie more.” Ryan’s tone was so
flat, even Bethany didn’t argue further. She threw Tyler a glance that said, Thanks a lot.

  Tyler felt an out-of-character obligation to repair the damage. He tried to steer the conversation into safer waters. “What brings you here, Ryan?”

  Ryan looked at his sister, dropped his gaze, then muttered, “I ran away from school.”

  “You what?” Bethany jumped to her feet.

  “I hate it there,” Ryan said. “If you’re no good at sports, no one likes you. And then you get bullied.”

  “You’re being bullied?” Her face whitened.

  Her brother nodded abruptly, as if he was ashamed.

  “Have you told Mom and Dad?”

  He waved a hand at her. “I tried, but they said I should tell the teachers.”

  Tyler knew that wasn’t a solution any teenage boy would welcome. “Maybe your parents could talk to the principal, in confidence.”

  “They’d have to care first,” Ryan said.

  Bethany held up a hand. “They do care. And right now, I need to phone the school and tell them you’re with me. You’d better hope they haven’t already called Mom.”

  “They won’t know I’m gone,” Ryan said. “I had a pass into town and I’m not due back until ten.”

  He was right—when Bethany spoke to the housemaster, Ryan’s absence hadn’t yet been noticed. That put the man at a disadvantage, and Bethany was able to insist she keep her brother for the weekend. When she suggested she would tell her parents she’d invited Ryan to stay, the man agreed with obvious relief.

  Ryan grinned when she told him the news. She warned him sternly, “But Sunday night, you’re going back to school, no arguments.”

  She felt awful when his elation evaporated.

  “Will you talk to Mom and Dad about the bullying for me?” he begged.

  Bethany didn’t want to say yes. Her relationship with her parents was fragile enough that she didn’t want to risk damaging it. She didn’t want to put another brick in the wall that separated them from her.

  “I’ll try,” she told Ryan discouragingly. Tyler shot her a surprised look.

  It was all very well for him. He had a mother who doted on his every word. He’d never had to earn his parents’ love.