by Day Leclaire
“Height. 74.2936 centimeters.”
“Wait, wait. The comparison chart is in inches, not centimeters.”
“Who the hell—” Wheep! “—uses inches in scientific measurements?”
“A baby comparison chart.”
“Well, convert my measurements from metric to imperial.”
Pretorius thrust his hands through his hair, standing the graying tufts on end. “Do you know how long it’s been since I…? Never mind.” Snatching up his calculator, he banged in a series of numbers. “Okay, 29.2494 inches. Go.”
“Weight. 9.0356 kilograms. Let me guess. You need it in pounds.”
More banging. “Got it, got it. Go.”
“Head circumference. 45.5930 centimeters. I might be a smidge off on that one. She won’t stop squirming.”
“Head circumference—17.95 inches. Entered.” He stabbed a button and waited. “Okay. I have no idea whether this is good or bad, so don’t kill the messenger. And for the love of Pete, don’t break Condition One.”
“Just get to it, old man.”
“For height, she’s in the 65.1 percentile.”
Justice lifted his daughter into his arms and cuddled her close. Not that it was really cuddling. More like a sensible, protective hold with maybe a gentle tickle to distract her. “I am taller than average and height is a dominant gene. It’s logical to think she received that particular genetic propensity from me. What about head circumference?”
“Seventy-one percentile.” Pretorius spun around. “That mean she’s gonna be smart?”
Justice swept his hand across his daughter’s blaze of curls. “There have been studies done on the correlation between head size and intellect. Though the results aren’t definitive, individuals with high IQ scores do tend to have larger than average heads.”
“Literally or figuratively?” Pretorius asked dryly.
Justice refrained from responding since he suspected it would set off the siren again. “What about her weight?”
“Darn.” Wheep!
Noelle clapped her hands. “Damn.”
“Now, don’t get upset, Justice, but Noelle is only in the 37.6 percentile.”
“What? Run it again.”
“I have. Three times. Thirty-seven-point-six.” He spun around, a frown forming between thick dark brows. “You think Daisy isn’t feeding her enough?” he whispered.
“Not deliberately. From what I’ve observed she’s an excellent mother.” Justice gave it some thought. “How much would Noelle have to weigh to be in the fiftieth percentile?”
“She’ll need to hit 11.4543 kilograms by Christmas.”
Justice nodded. “Then we’d better get busy. You have twenty-four hours to research the appropriate dietetic needs for a female infant of eleven months, twenty-five days and calculate how many additional calories it will require for her to achieve her goal weight.”
“On it.”
“I’ll research potential health risks for underweight toddlers and request to see Noelle’s medical records.”
“Do you think Daisy will allow you access?”
“Allow you access to what?” Daisy asked, stepping into the lab. She spared Pretorius a quick, apologetic smile. “Sorry to trespass, but the computer said Noelle was down here and it’s time for her nap.” She returned her attention to Justice. “What do you want access to?”
“Noelle’s medical records. She’s underweight.”
Daisy planted her hands on her hips. “She most certainly is not. She’s a perfect weight given her bone structure and energy level.”
“She’s 3.11 grams off plumb,” Pretorius offered helpfully.
One look at Daisy’s expression had Justice doing some swift backpedaling. “Noelle does possess her mother’s fine bone structure. Does the comparison chart take that into consideration?”
Daisy frowned. “Comparison chart? What comparison chart? And what are those black lines on Noelle?” She caught her breath and glared at Justice in disbelief. “Did you paint grid marks on our baby?”
“You painted flora and fauna on my walls,” he retorted a shade defensively.
“That was different,” she snapped. “They’re walls. This is a baby.”
“Correct. My marks have a scientific purpose. Yours are merely for decoration.” He flinched at the intense hurt that flickered across her expression, hastening to add, “It’s very attractive decoration. And you will recall that I have since given you permission to continue with your project. Joint Condition One, remember?”
“Well, I did not give you permission to turn our baby into a scientific experiment. Nor did I give you permission to cover her in grid marks.” Daisy crossed to his side and snatched their daughter from his arms. “Is that all she means to you, Justice? Some sort of research project?”
“No, of course not.”
Tears glittered in Daisy’s eyes and the expression almost killed him. “I thought you were beginning to care. But I guess I was mistaken. Once a scientist, always a scientist?” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the door.
“Damn, hell,” Noelle cooed in farewell, waving her little hands as they exited the room.
“You said it,” Justice muttered.
Pretorius released a slow breath. “What now?”
“Now we create our own comparison chart, taking into consideration a few more factors, such as bone structure.”
“I can help with that,” came a voice from on high.
The two men jumped and the computer let out a shrill wheep, wheep! Jett grinned down at them from where she sat curled up on top of the bookcase.
“Now that damn—” Wheep! “—siren is going off when I’m even thinking about swearing,” Justice growled.
“Weren’t you paying attention? It was going off even when we didn’t swear.”
“That was just me.” She grinned and waggled a remote at them. “So, what do you say, Uncle P.? Want some help with that program? I’m not doing anything.”
“Actually, I believe you’re spying on us. Again. And…and wheeping us.”
“True. But I can do all that while I help. I’m great at multitasking.” She leaped nimbly from the bookcase to one of the long counters to the floor. “What are you planning to do if the program still shows Noelle’s underweight even after you’ve altered the parameters?”
“Feed her,” the two men said in unison.
“Can’t have Justice’s daughter off plumb,” Pretorius muttered. He kicked a chair in Jett’s direction. “Don’t just stand there. We have work to do.”
Justice didn’t delay further, but went after Daisy and his daughter, knowing full well he had some serious groveling to do. He found Daisy in the bathroom, giving Noelle a bath.
“I’m sorry.”
It seemed the safest thing to say. Of course, it helped that he meant it with the utmost sincerity. He hadn’t intended to hurt her feelings, any more than he intended to treat their daughter like a scientific experiment. Well, not exactly. Daisy kept her back to him, gently rinsing away the water soluble lines crisscrossing Noelle.
“Do you resent my painting on your walls?” she asked, not pretending to misunderstand the apology.
“I did at first,” he admitted. “I’m quite partial to white.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“But in the last few days I’ve noticed something odd.”
“Something off plumb?” she asked dryly.
“Yes. Quite off plumb, at least for me.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her clever hands stroke the marks from Noelle’s body. Daisy really did have lovely hands, both gentle and firm, graceful and tantalizing. More than anything he wanted her running those supple fingers over him, teasing and stroking as they chased a path across his body. Gripping him tight while he drove her to climax. Soothing him in that timeless aftermath. He closed his eyes in disbelief. Dear God, it was happening again. All he had to do was look at her and he lost all control. How was t
hat possible?
Daisy shot him a questioning glance over her shoulder. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “What have you noticed, Justice?” she prompted.
He forced himself to focus on the subject at hand. “Each day I find myself searching for any new changes or additions you might have added to the walls. On average I expend a minimum of forty-nine minutes a day on the activity.”
Her shoulders tightened and her spine formed a rigid line. “Expend or waste?” she asked crisply.
He debated whether to give her an honest answer and decided he’d never been comfortable lying. With Daisy he found it almost impossible. “At first, I categorized it as a waste. One time I utilized in excess of one hundred and thirty-two minutes attempting to locate all the additions. I’m afraid I can’t be more accurate since I—” He cleared his throat. “I lost track of time.”
“You, Justice?” Was that a hint of irony he caught?
“I recognize that it’s a serious anomaly, but…” He frowned. “I no longer consider it a waste of time.”
“Really? You astonish me. Why is that?”
He took her comment at face value. “I’ve recently discovered the pursuit causes a positive sensory experience that’s engaged me outside the realm of my scientific endeavors and altered the manner in which I prioritize various aspects of my life.”
“Uh-huh.” She lifted a wildly kicking Noelle from the tub and wrapped their daughter up in a fluffy yellow towel that contrasted quite delightfully with her bright strawberry-blond hair. He grinned. They really did have an adorable daughter. “Translation, please?” Daisy requested.
“It…it makes me happy.”
Soft color suffused her face and she smiled. Hell, she beamed. “Really? My paintings make you happy?”
“They certainly cause a strong visceral reaction.”
“That’s one of the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He eyed her uncertainly. “Is that sarcasm?”
She carefully set their daughter on the floor, still wrapped in the bath towel. Approaching, she slid her arms around his neck and lifted her face to his. “It’s Noelle’s nap time. Why don’t we put her down and then I’ll show you exactly what I’m feeling. I’ll even give you a hint.” Her laughter sparkled up at him. “It’s not sarcasm.”
The next hour was one of the most enjoyable he’d ever spent in the middle of a workday. What was it about Daisy that she could so easily divert him? How was she able to decimate rational thought and rock-solid intent with one mischievous glance? And how could he have ever imagined he’d be satisfied with an apprentice/wife programmed to order? The one time he’d attempted it had proven to be an unmitigated disaster. He’d been bored to tears within twenty-four hours. Hell, he’d been bored to tears within twenty-two hours, fourteen minutes and fifty-one seconds.
But not with Daisy. Never with Daisy.
She rolled over and traced the contours of his face, tripped along the taut lines of his jaw. “That was amazing. But then, it always is.” She rested her chin on his chest. “Why is that, do you suppose?”
“We’re sexually compatible.”
She released her breath in a sigh, warning that he hadn’t given her the answer she’d hoped. Desperate for a hint, he asked, “Why do you think we’re amazing together?”
“I guess there’s some truth to that old adage opposites attract.”
“It’s more than an old adage, it’s a scientific fact. At least, when it comes to magnetic properties and electrically charged particles.” She laughed, but he caught a hint of wistfulness beneath the humor. “What’s wrong, Daisy?”
She drew lazy circles across his chest, painting him with her fingertips. He couldn’t help but wonder what colors she was imagining. Dark, passionless ones that glittered with the iciness of a dark winter? Or brilliant shades of springtime hope? “What do you want from our relationship, Justice?”
He wasn’t stupid. He could see a trap when it yawned in front of him. He chose his words with extreme care. “I want marriage. I want a family.”
“Yes, you explained that was your game plan when I first told you about Noelle. When you told me about your apprentice/wife program,” she added with far too casual an air.
His gaze sharpened. “Nothing has changed since then.”
“Funny. I’d say a lot has changed since then.”
He stirred, uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. “I meant, nothing about my game plan has changed. I still want marriage. I still want a family. I’m hoping, given time, that our relationship will progress in that direction.”
“Like you were hoping it would with Pamela?”
The words hung in the afternoon air. Justice scrubbed his hands across his face and swore. Damn, damn, damn. He’d suspected something was up. Now she’d confirmed it. “I assume Cord told you?”
“You should have been the one to tell me.” Then she let him off the hook. Somewhat. “Why don’t you tell me now?”
Okay, fair enough. “She seemed like the best candidate for the job.” He shrugged. “I was wrong.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about her when we first arrived?”
“We had enough to deal with. Plus, the relationship didn’t work out, so it was no longer an issue.”
“Why didn’t it work out?”
“Damn it, Daisy. Do you need every last detail?”
She tilted her head to one side in consideration. “Yes.”
“Fine.” He considered carefully before speaking. “You know what we were saying about opposites attracting? Well, like objects don’t. Pamela was too much like me. Hell, she was worse than me. She was logical and rational and brilliant.”
“Beautiful, an engineer, kind, someone who won’t make waves and who is able to handle the isolation of life in Nowhere, Colorado?”
“Apparently, Cord isn’t the only one with a big mouth.” When Daisy didn’t answer, Justice blew out a sigh. “Yes, she met every single one of my criteria. Are you satisfied now?”
“Not really.”
“She met every single one of my criteria, particularly the one about being in control of her emotions. In fact, I’ve never met a colder, more emotionless woman.” He shuddered at the memory. “I have a feeling if I’d ever worked up the nerve to touch her, I’d have died from frostbite.”
Daisy couldn’t hide her smile. “Then what do you require in a wife?”
Damn it to hell. Why did women ask such impossible questions? Why did women get a man naked and in bed, wait until he was at his most vulnerable and incapable of escape, and then blindside him with questions guaranteed to initiate an argument. Okay, he knew why. They were women. Still…
“I want you,” he said, hoping it would make a difference. “And although neither of us planned it, I couldn’t ask for a better daughter than Noelle.”
“Want.” She tried out the word. It must not have been the flavor she’d hoped because she discarded it with a tiny wrinkle of her nose. “What about love?”
He closed his eyes and silently swore. He should have seen that one coming, especially with a woman like Daisy. “Is it one of your prerequisites to marriage?” he asked carefully.
“Yes.”
He nodded, not surprised. “I wish I had it to offer.” He cupped her face, locking gazes with her so she could read his sincerity. “Someone like you deserves love, deserves a husband capable of love. If we decide to marry, you need to know that I can’t provide you with that.”
Her lashes flickered downward to conceal her eyes, but not before he saw the sheen of tears. “What are you offering?” she whispered.
She was killing him by inches, but he forced himself to be brutally honest. “I’ll give you everything I have. My home. My intellect. My money. Sex.” His mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “According to you, amazing sex. I’ve even given you my walls. But I can’t give you what I don’t possess.”
“And you don’t think you possess the
capacity to love?”
“No, Daisy. I don’t think it,” he stated ever so gently. “I know I don’t.”
He was going to lose her.
Justice woke to the knowledge while dawn’s first light invaded Daisy’s bedroom. His hold on her tightened convulsively and she stirred in her sleep, murmuring in protest. He didn’t doubt for one tiny second that she was going to leave him and he fought a growing sense of panic as the certainty became stronger with each passing moment. He had to do something, anything, to keep her. Unfortunately, the three simple words guaranteed to make her his, were the only three he couldn’t in all good conscience utter.
The irony didn’t escape him. He’d always thought he possessed everything a woman could possibly want. He was worth billions. Owned a company respected around the world. Boasted a respectable intellect. Even better, he wanted marriage. A family. He frowned in bewilderment. Most women would be satisfied with that, wouldn’t they?
Unfortunately, Daisy wasn’t “most women.” Rather than reveling at the idea of spending his money, she’d used a mere pittance of his billions. And for what? To transform his house into a home. She’d only made one serious demand of him, regardless of her ridiculous conditions—that he involve himself in their daughter’s life. And wouldn’t he have done everything within his power, given all that he possessed to be allowed that opportunity, even if she hadn’t insisted? The only real request she’d made on her own behalf had been to paint his walls. And what had she done when he’d reluctantly agreed? Created magnificent murals that stunned the senses and delighted the eye.
With each passing minute, light eclipsed darkness, marching relentlessly across the mattress. It encompassed Daisy within a halo of radiance and yearning, pouring passion onto passion while he remained caught within night’s lingering death. Gently, tenderly, he slipped from her embrace, and withdrew from the light and warmth aboveground to retreat to the darkness below.
No, there wasn’t any question. Daisy was going to leave and he had to do something, find a way—any way that didn’t involve lying to her—to convince her to stay.