Strictly Temporary

by Robyn Grady

  Zack’s husky words brushed her ear as he passed and explained, “The main bedroom.”

  She quivered. Main bedroom. His bedroom. A whirlpool of images swam up in her mind, the most vivid: Zack Harrison relaxing back against a strong, wooden headboard, rumpled sheet draped over lean hips, hard broad chest shamelessly on display, his expression self-assured…roguish and hot.

  Hauling herself back, Trinity caught her breath. She wasn’t here to fantasize about sleeping with a man who’d made sexual seduction his favorite personal pastime. Obviously she wasn’t the only female he affected this way. The media spotted a new besotted squeeze on his arm every other month. But dwelling on his charisma—on that blatant sex appeal—had no place here, particularly when she’d made a fool of herself earlier at the hotel. She’d practically dissolved when she’d thought he might kiss her. Her skin flashed hot just thinking how he must have laughed when, eyelids growing heavy, she’d visibly trembled.

  But he wouldn’t catch her out again.

  While Zack gently set down the carrier and supplies then maneuvered out of his overcoat, Trinity chased the butterflies from her stomach, slipped out of her coat as well then offered a neutral, totally honest statement.

  “Your home is beautiful.”

  “I don’t spend a lot of time here,” he said, peeling back the carrier’s light blanket, which had acted as a shield for the baby against the falling snow. “I hail from New York, like you. But you already know that.”

  She ignored his mischievous, pointed look and continued to study the room. “So this is a getaway?”

  “My dad used to spend all his time at the office. To make it up to us, we’d always pack up and head off to Colorado for a break during snow season.” He set his coat on the nearby rack, hung hers, too, then shucked out of his suit jacket before hooking that as well. “When I was older, I kept traveling out and found this area. We’ve got some amazing scenery. Nice people, too—the kind who are never too busy to nod and say hello when you pass on the street. I figured I might as well have a place on hand.”

  “But you don’t have a vehicle in the garage?” Or there’d be no need for a cab.

  “Engines like to be turned over regularly, so it’s easier to rent something. When I flew in this time, there’d been a mix-up with the rental information. I don’t exactly fit inside a bubble car.” He gave his impressive shoulders an awkward roll to make his point then threw a glance toward the kitchen and collected the baby carrier again. “I’ll put on some coffee. We can get her bottle set up while it brews.”

  Trinity knew she was stepping on dangerous ground but she couldn’t keep her gaze off the impressive ledge of his shoulders in that white business shirt as she followed him into a large kitchen. The way his well-spaced shoulder blades moved in tandem with his purposeful, measured stride was enough to make her fingers itch to reach out and touch. In these more intimate surroundings—now they were alone—Zack’s presence was a step away from spellbinding. Not that he’d need anyone to tell him that. She certainly didn’t need to dwell on it a moment more.

  And yet, as he set the carrier gently down again, wrung loose his tie and studied the baby—brow lined and dark eyes concerned—Trinity was more aware than ever of her physical reaction to his air of authority. His aura of masculine supremacy. That awareness made her flush from head to foot and everywhere in between. The reports were all true.

  Zack Harrison must be the sexiest man alive.

  “Should we sterilize something?”

  Trinity dragged her focus away from the sweep of his full bottom lip then registered and answered his question.

  “Yes. Absolutely. A bottle.” Stepping forward, she crouched beside the carrier and examined the baby who, after earlier noises, appeared to have settled again. “I’ll find the directions for the formula.”

  Carefully she slipped the bottle and formula canister out from where they rested at the foot of the carrier. Zack found a saucepan while she deciphered the formula’s directions…although her attention wasn’t entirely on the job.

  Whistling a vaguely familiar tune while finding a coffeepot, Zack seemed at home here in this setting. And yet he spent most of his time in New York. Did he live in a Chelsea condo or a penthouse on Central Park West? Or was it the presidential suite of a family hotel? Hell, probably every Harrison came home to their very own multimillion-dollar penthouse.

  “What’s it like?” she asked, setting the formula down.

  His back to her, Zack collected mugs from an overhead cabinet. “What’s what like?”

  “Owning all that real estate.” Pimping it out only to those who can afford the exorbitant rates.

  “I don’t own Harrison Hotels exclusively.” He pulled one end of his tie. With a zipping sound, the expensive strip of blue silk slid out and dropped in an abstract coil on the counter. “It’s a family business.”

  “So you work every day with your parents and siblings?”

  She’d always wanted sisters—or rather ones who would stay in her life rather than being moved on to another foster home after they’d become close. After a while, she’d given up wishing and hoping.

  For a time, in between “then” and “now,” she’d dreamed of having a family all her own, with a caring husband who would always stand by her, and at least one baby, but preferably two. She’d even picked out names. But over the years her plans had changed.

  Zack was answering her question about siblings.

  “We have our good days. We’re like-minded in many respects.” He found sugar then milk from a fridge that housed its own high-definition TV. “We’re different in other ways, though. How about you? Do you have family?”

  A familiar jab poked her ribs. It was one thing to sometimes think about what she’d once hoped for more than anything in the world. For anyone to ask her outright about whether or not she had any kind of family was quite another.

  Trinity focused back on the formula. “Oh, nothing like that,” she said in a remarkably even voice.

  “Like what?”

  “Like your family. Like…blood.”

  Not much of an answer but normally she didn’t like to think about it let alone talk about her past. She definitely wasn’t out to garner anyone’s pity, particularly Zack-I-have-it-all-Harrison. Besides, the past was well behind her. What purpose would bringing it up here serve?

  But then, peeling back the formula’s lid, her gaze wandered again to the baby. Her throat closed over and for the first time in a long while she rethought that stand. From as far back as she could recall she’d been a private person. But wasn’t this situation unique? No matter what she thought of his public image, Zack Harrison had given his time and opened up his house, not only to this baby but to her as well. Maybe this once she could share.

  “Actually,” she said, her heart beginning to pound, “I was a ward of the state.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. About to lift the coffeepot, Zack froze. His focus shifted to the carrier then skated over to her. His gaze penetrated hers so deeply she almost regretted opening her mouth. She wasn’t a freak, just one of many ex-foster kids.

  “That’s why…” he began and she nodded.

  “That’s one of the reasons why I couldn’t walk away.”

  He exhaled a long breath then poured steaming coffee that smelled both bitter and comforting. When both mugs were full, he met her gaze again. The surprise was gone from his eyes, but she wasn’t much happier with the sympathy drawing on the corners of his mouth.

  “Did you have a rough time?”

  Her smile was thin. “Not everyone can land a Mrs. Dale.”

  “But you made good. All these years later working for—”

  His brows knitting, he crossed over and handed her a mug while she contained a grin. She’d gleaned from his polite but vacant look earlier in the cab that he’d never heard of the publication.

  “I work for Story Magazine.”

  “Ah, yes. Story.”

  He t
ook a long pull from his mug. She did the same, and almost sighed, the heat and flavor were so good. But while she concentrated on warming her palms, she felt his gaze tracing over the lines of her face.

  “Ever interview a successful hotelier who rescues babies as a sideline?” he asked.

  Meeting his midnight gaze, she cocked her head and pretended to be intrigued, which, in truth, she was. “Can’t say I have.”

  “If you play your cards right, I could be available for questions later.”

  “I have a question for you now.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  She had the darnedest urge to say, When you came so close in that hotel foyer earlier, was it because you really wanted to kiss me or because you wanted to put me in my place?

  Of course, she swallowed the urge, retacked her neutral smile and asked instead, “Can I have some sugar?”

  He slowly smiled. “You can have anything you want.”

  He brought over the sugar bowl. She heaped in a good spoonful and took her time stirring. Leaning around her, he set the sugar bowl on the counter. His arm brushed hers as he tipped back but, although her stomach jumped, she gave no outward sign of how high her pulse had skipped. Rather, she dropped her focus to the baby again, taking in the healthy glow, the plump pink cheeks.

  Attention on the baby now, too, Zack asked, “How old do you reckon she’d be?”

  “Maybe three months. She looks well cared for.”

  “It doesn’t make sense her being left alone like that. There has to be more to it.”

  An idea struck and a chill crawled up her spine. “Maybe she was abducted.” It happened, and more than some people might think. Stories that made the news were only the tip of the iceberg. “Perhaps they’d planned a ransom and got cold feet at the last minute.”

  His voice was low and patient.

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  How she found herself in foster care? She shook her head but didn’t feel a need to explain more. A man in Zack’s situation, obviously so involved with his own family and position, couldn’t possibly understand.

  The baby gave a squeak. Then she squirmed and blinked open sleepy eyes. Both Zack and Trinity bent over the carrier while the baby yawned and tried to focus. Trinity’s entire body flooded with a warmth she hadn’t known existed—powerful yet soft and syrupy all at the same time.

  “Her eyes are blue,” she whispered.

  “Do you think she’s hungry?”

  As if to answer, the baby let out a whimper, and another. When Zack hesitated, Trinity took control and folded back the blanket. By the time the harness was unclipped and the baby was out of the carrier, whimpers had grown to little sobs. Her heart tugging low in her chest, Trinity held the baby close. She was heavier than she expected but also easier to hold.

  “Poor darling,” she murmured against the velvet of that tiny cheek. “She must be wet. I’ll take care of that. Can you handle the bottle?”

  “Sure. No problem.” He cast a tentative look at the canister. “You, uh, said there were directions?”

  “On the side. Or do you want dibs on first diaper duty?”

  He took a long step back. “I’ll have the bottle ready when you come out.”

  She was shown to a downstairs bedroom with an attached bath. After she laid the baby on the bed and Zack set down a plastic bag of supplies, Trinity left to find a towel from the bath. Changing diapers could be a messy business; she didn’t want to leave the bedspread soiled. Returning, she noticed a silhouette lurking in the shadows of the bedroom doorway. Zack.

  “I wanted to make sure the baby didn’t roll off the bed,” he said.

  “At three months or younger, she’s too young to roll.”

  Even if she were four months, she wouldn’t be able to roll more than once, and from her tummy to her back, not the other way around. She’d learned that when Nora Earnshaw had cared for an infant for a short time. A seven-year-old Trinity had spent all her spare time with that child. When the baby was taken away suddenly one day, she’d been so heartbroken and lonely; she’d barely eaten for weeks. The only saving grace was that the baby’s new foster home had to be better than Nora’s house. Maybe he’d even been adopted by a couple who never let him cry.

  Zack smoothed a hand through his coal-black hair. “Then I guess I’ll get that bottle underway.”

  Smiling to herself, Trinity watched him disappear then bent over to touch the sniffling baby’s forehead with her own. To think a big, bossy man like Zack Harrison standing all the way back there. Anyone would think he was afraid of holding this little cherub, of bringing her close, whereas any person in their right mind would find it hard to let her go.

  Ten minutes later, Trinity emerged from the bedroom feeling most pleased with herself. The baby wore a fresh diaper as well as an intent, curious expression in her gorgeous robin’s-egg-blue eyes as if she wanted to thank this strange woman but didn’t know how. In the kitchen, his cuffs folded back, Zack was busy shaking a full bottle over his wrist. The image was so incredibly sexy, as well as rather funny and tender, something unfamiliar shifted inside and Trinity cradled the baby all the closer. Did all men look slightly awkward yet undeniably hot when performing this kind of domestic feat? Zack was so focused on his task he hadn’t noticed the liquid spraying on his previously immaculate hardwood floor. Talk about single-minded.

  “Milk stains, you know,” she said, crossing over.

  His dark eyes flashed as he glanced up then down at the formula sprayed on the floor and his shoes. Grunting, he dropped a nearby dishcloth. Keeping a firm hold on the bottle, he rubbed the cloth over the damp area with a foot.

  “The temperature needed checking.”

  “If you’d kept going,” she teased, “there wouldn’t be anything left in the bottle.”

  With a lopsided smile that did bone-melting things to her pulse, he held the bottle high.

  “I’m happy to report the beverage is well mixed and—if I do say so myself—perfectly warmed.”

  “In that case…” She made to hand over the baby. “Would you care to do the honors?”

  His smug smile vanished. “I’ll take the next shift.”

  “She won’t bite.”

  “How do you know?”

  Trinity wondered what he’d do if she plunked the baby in his arms and told him to handle it. If she’d let him tell her what to do, she’d have been on her way back to New York and he’d be here all alone with an infant to care for. Lucky for him she wasn’t a pushover.

  Trinity headed for the open plan area. “I’ll need a seat.”

  As he overtook her, a hot palm grazed the small of her back and that unfamiliar feeling filled her middle again, spreading heat up toward her chest and throat. For a mindless moment, she held on to the feeling before dragging herself back. Given Zack’s lack of confidence in this area, it was up to her to stay on top of things.

  Wouldn’t this make a great story. Hotelier Magnate Admits To Failings.

  Stopping at the dining table, Zack held out a carved wooden chair and, with a flourish, indicated she should sit. Trinity studied the chair’s upright back and wrinkled her nose.

  “Maybe something a little more comfortable.”

  Frowning, he pushed the chair back in. Next she was shown to one of those sumptuous white leather recliners. Feeling as if she were descending into a cloud, she seated herself. A lever on the recliner’s side was lifted, a footrest whirred out and her legs rose until they were near horizontal. Zack couldn’t have looked prouder if he’d single-handedly closed down a community hall to build yet another skyscraper—which he had just last month.

  Finding the baby, accompanying Zack Harrison into the middle of nowhere—this entire evening had been surreal. But reclining here with Zack looming closer left her feeling more than a little edgy. And curious. The media was awash with shots of his recent breakup with starlet Ally Monroe. So who was Zack seeing at the moment? Did he feel any guilt over business decisions t
hat had hurt ordinary Americans? Was he as good in bed as the world envisioned him to be?

  After meeting him, she’d wager he was even better. Any woman with half her quota of hormones would sizzle in his presence. Girls had probably mooned over him since middle school.

  Zack was standing, legs braced, hands low on his hips. “What else do you need?”

  She brought her focus back to the baby, who was peering up, a tiny frown pinching her brow while four little fingers wiggled above the turn of her wrap. “Can I have a hand towel? Something to mop up any excess?”

  He handed over the bottle and she watched him stride away, drinking in the way his long, solid legs worked to create such a smooth, fluid gait. A moment later, he handed over a towel and, standing back again, squared those impressive shoulders.

  “Good luck,” he said in a mock-solemn tone that pried a smile from her lips.

  “I’ll report back on casualties,” she replied, checking the measurements embossed on the bottle’s side before lowering the nipple.

  Alert baby blues opened wider. In a heartbeat, the baby had latched on and was sucking like she hadn’t eaten in days. Trinity’s stomach knotted tight. How long had it been since her last feeding? Where was her mother? Child Services knew of the situation, but how long before this little sweetheart was taken away?

  Of course, the mother might be off searching for her right now. If that were the case, Trinity hated to think of the agony that woman must be going through. Much like her own mother before—

  “No one’s called back yet,” Zack said.

  Trinity’s train of thought shifted back to the present. Zack was lifting a dining chair and setting it down beside her. Elbows on knees, he leaned forward and threaded his fingers. Trinity wondered why he didn’t take a seat on a recliner. Maybe he was more comfortable keeping that bit of distance.