Do You Take This Baby?
Page 10
Minna swung around. “Darling! How wonderful! We’ll see you all summer, then?” She frowned at the string of freezer-burned knockwurst in her hands. “Lu? You want to keep this, honey? Just in case of famine?”
Ignoring her mother’s jabs, Lucy asked, “What kind of job?”
There was an open container of frost-covered brownies on the counter. Lowering her squiggling nephew to the floor as he happily gummed his bread, Gemma picked up a brownie and examined it. “I’m going to be a nanny,” she said, striving to sound offhand, “for Ethan Ladd.”
Both Lucy’s and Minna’s heads snapped around, and they gaped at her.
“For Ethan?” Minna asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Ethan doesn’t have a baby.” Lucy snorted. She traded a glance with her mother, then looked back to Gemma. “Does he?”
Knocking some ice off the brownie before she took a bite, Gemma stayed on the cool, casual, low-drama track. “Mmm-hmm.”
“Mmm-hmm what?” Lucy demanded. “Mmm-hmm, he has a baby?”
Slamming the freezer door, Minna scurried to the counter in intel-gathering mode. “Is it his? Is he the father? Is it out of wedlock?”
“Mom, no one says that anymore,” Lucy reproved, demanding, “Who’s the mother?”
Minna slapped the counter and gasped. “It’s the redhead!”
Lucy’s eyes got huge. “From the vampire cheerleader show?”
“No!” Trying to speak around frozen brownie, Gemma waved her hands. “No, no. It’s nothing like that.” She set the brownie away from her. “Please, you guys, you’ve got to stay calm and discreet. Ethan’s in a tough spot, and he doesn’t need a lot of gossip circulating around town right now. So let’s stick to the facts, okay?”
Minna crossed her arms. “I don’t gossip. Do I, Lucy?”
Turning from her mother to Gemma, Lucy said, “What are the facts?”
Pretending not to notice that their mother had taken offense, Gemma explained the situation as neatly as she could, telling them about Ethan getting the phone call from DHS and about being unable to keep a nanny.
“But why are you going to be the new nanny?” Lucy asked when Gemma was through.
“Because she’s wonderful with children,” Minna responded on her eldest daughter’s behalf. Wearing a big smile now, she reached out to shmoosh Gemma’s cheeks. “A man who’s ready for a family can tell when a woman is good with children.”
Lucy popped a piece of brownie into her mouth. “Like gorillas trying to mate with the best breeders?”
“No, not like gorillas,” Minna snapped.
“Anyway, the male of a species typically doesn’t do the choosing,” Gemma pointed out. “It’s the female, and even then a gorilla might—”
“Stop talking about gorillas!” Exasperated, Minna shook her head. “We are talking about Ethan now, and it’s lovely that he wants to care for his family in this way. I remember his sister. She was a very good artist. Her pieces were always displayed at the school art shows.”
“I remember her, too,” Lucy said. “And I understand why he wants to find her and get her into rehab, but doesn’t the addict have to want it, also?”
“I suppose he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it,” Gemma murmured, though she’d had the same thought. “The immediate concern is making sure DHS keeps Cody with Ethan, and for that he needs a nanny who won’t quit.”
“Well, you’ve never been a quitter,” Minna said approvingly.
“What’s he going to do when you go back to school?” Lucy questioned.
“Hopefully he’ll be more able to take care of the baby on his own by then. And once we get Cody through the withdrawal phase, it should be easier to find a nanny who’ll stay. For now, though...” She shrugged. “I seem to know how to soothe the little guy. Probably because of all the tricks I learned from you, Luce, when Owen had colic.”
“It isn’t just that. You’re wonderful with children,” Minna said as she tossed several mystery ziplocked bags of frozen food into the sink. “Be sure to pack your good shoes. The dainty ones with the bows on the heel.”
Lucy gaped at her mother. “She needs good shoes to be a nanny?”
“To be Ethan Ladd’s nanny.” Eyes big, Minna waggled her brows.
“Hey, guys, let’s not—” Gemma tried to regain control of the conversation, but Lucy persisted.
“Ma, you are not going to try to push Gemma and Ethan together. Ethan is a serial player. He is totally wrong for her. Remember the People magazine interview last year? Ethan said he’s never going to get married or have children.”
“Oh, pish tish,” Minna dismissed. “He has a baby right now. He’s already a family man.” She pried the top off a container and gave it a tentative sniff. “Ethan will settle down once he’s found the right woman. Just like George Clooney.”
“Yeah, once he’s found the right impossibly tall, glamorous, skinny woman with an IQ of 180.” The moment the words were out, Lucy put a hand over her mouth and cast a sheepish glance at Gemma. “Sorry, hon. I didn’t mean you’re not—”
“Tall, glamorous and skinny?” Picking up her brownie, Gemma waved her sister’s apology away. “Forget it.” But even though she agreed—really agreed, 100 percent—with her sister’s analysis of her and Ethan Ladd’s couple potential, the words did sting. A thousand years ago, back in high school, she’d felt a little giddy and sort of...chosen...when she’d believed he was asking her to homecoming. When she’d discovered Elyse had bribed him to take her nerdy older sister... Well, message received.
“Anyway,” she said, making a perky effort to steer the conversation back to her new employment opportunity, “for one summer, Ethan’s going to pay me what I usually earn in five months. I’ll be able to go to Europe and work on my PhD.” And, with a PhD, she’d have enough income to raise a child on her own. She’d pondered telling them that part of her plan, too, but decided to wait. Her mother was happy, Lucy had some juicy new gossip and Gemma’d had enough stress for one day.
“Sounds good, honey,” Minna said. “I know Ethan will be delighted with you.”
“Yep. Well, I should probably be on my way. Just wanted to let you know I’m moving into Ethan’s place before you read about it in the grocery line.”
Another time, she would confess that she hoped being a nanny would be great preparation for when she had her own baby. Of course, she’d make sure there was a defibrillator nearby when she told her mother and father about her plans to adopt or to become pregnant on her own, because given her mother’s penchant to see her children married, the mention of alternative insemination or single-parent adoption could put her on life support.
As Gemma gathered her purse and car keys, Lucy swooped Owen onto her hip and tucked her free hand into the crook of Gemma’s arm. “Before you go, I have some stuff that I found really handy when Owen was Cody’s age. If you’re going to be a celebrity nanny, you need to be well-equipped. C’mon.”
* * *
The moment Gemma stepped into the beautiful, elegant bedroom suite that Ethan had assigned her, she felt instantly at home. Though he called it the guest room, the square footage rivaled her entire apartment in Portland. The walk-in closet alone was the size of her childhood bedroom at her parents’ place, and the bathroom had a glorious soaking tub and a shower that could accommodate a small army. It was heaven.
At her request, Ethan had moved Cody’s crib to her room and was in the process of putting it back together so Cody could sleep in her room for the first couple of weeks.
At the moment, Cody was sleeping soundly in the middle of her bed as she bustled about, hanging her clothes in the closet and setting up the various appliances and products that Lucy claimed would make her job easier.
“Hand me that small wrench, would you?”
Ethan extended his hand without turning to look at Gemma, and she sorted through the tools on the bed before selecting a small, red-handled item. “This one?”
He took it, eyed it a second and said, “Perfect.”
Perfect summed up the view on her end, too. Watching him work was, well, innervating to say the least.
His sculpted arms and shoulders were so broad Gemma felt certain that if the house caught on fire in the middle of the night, Ethan would be able to carry her, the baby and the bed they were in to safety. The sight of him was already playing havoc with her assurances to Lucy and their mother. She’d told them—never mind telling herself—that working for Ethan was strictly business. But when was the last time she’d had the urge to run her hands over her boss’s back and shoulders and arms and—
Down, Gemma. His being all wrong for her—and vice versa—apparently did nothing to quash the libido.
“So, you’re sure you want Cody in with you at night?” he said, frowning a bit as he tightened a bolt. “It might be better to have him in one of the other guest rooms so we can take turns. Not that I’ll be much use in the middle of the night—”
Oh, I can think of a few uses...
“—since you seem to be the only one who can calm him.” Giving the bolt a final twist, Ethan rose and turned toward her. “What do you say? Last chance to change your mind before I finish setting up this...what did you call it? Sidebar?”
“Sidecar,” Gemma croaked, as parched as if she’d been living in the desert for a year. Maybe I have been. A romantic desert. Maybe that’s the problem. Ethan looks so good because I’m love-starved.
She’d asked him to rebuild the crib right next to the bed, removing one side of the rails so that she could touch Cody easily in the night. She’d read all about it, and Lucy had done it with her kids. Clearing her throat, Gemma said, “It will be easier to fall asleep again if I don’t have to get up and walk to another room to give Cody a bottle or change his diaper or reassure him. It should be easier for him to fall asleep again, too.”
He gazed at her awhile, curiosity and admiration filling his eyes. “You know a lot about being a mother. Then again, you’ve always seemed to know a lot about everything.” Shifting his study from her to the baby sleeping soundly in the middle of the queen bed, he shook his head in wonder. “Okay, one crib attached to the bed coming right up.”
If only it were that simple, she thought, to make a request of God. Could You please send me a man strong enough to put up a crib, gentle enough to look at a child with wonder and willing to love me for a lifetime? Thanks. Oh, and PS, the sex appeal of Adonis would not be unwelcome, though it’s not a must. It’s just that I’m in my thirties, I’ve been engaged before, but I have never felt this turned on in my life. If you don’t mind my saying so.
“Done,” Ethan said as he made the final adjustments to the crib, then rose and collected the tools he’d laid out on the bed. “You’re good to go.”
“I certainly am.”
“If you’re feeling comfortable on your own, I’ll leave you to unpack.”
“I’m fine.”
At the door, he hesitated a moment. “I’m glad you’re here, Gem.” His voice had lowered to a leonine purr.
Dang.
“I want you to feel at home,” he continued. “Anything you need, just ask and I’ll make it happen.”
No doubt about it, she was going to have a hot flash right here in her thirties. “Thanks.”
After Ethan left, Gemma turned to the soundly sleeping Cody. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll join you,” she said. “That was exhausting.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Gemma emerged from her closet dressed in the most sedate outfit she’d put together in her entire adult life. In lieu of napping, she’d racked her brain for ways to get through the summer like the rational, professional woman she had been up to now.
Clearly her body wasn’t listening to her brain where Ethan was concerned, so she decided to send herself the message that she was here for one purpose and one purpose only—to be a nanny to Cody and to collect her paycheck—by wearing the blue suit unadorned with belts or scarves or funky seamed hosiery. Checking herself in the mirror, she gave a satisfied nod. She looked boring, but also serious and in control, like a cast member of Nanny 911.
In his crib now, Cody was still fast asleep. Her bedroom was unpacked and set up for business. She was dressed for success. It was time to head downstairs and set up a little space for Cody’s and her meals and utensils in the pantry. Organization and professionalism would be the key to a peaceful coexistence with Ethan.
Gemma glanced at the baby monitor near the crib. On. Good. Tucking the remote parent intercom into her pocket, she stepped confidently into the hallway—and straight into her half-naked boss.
“Oops. Oh, my goodness!” she gasped. “I’m so sorry.”
“About what?”
“About...uh...” Struggling to regain her professional demeanor, she tried to find something to stare at that wasn’t Ethan, but it was tough. The man’s spectacular damp chest was mere centimeters from her face, and he smelled fantastic, like the breezeway just outside the Bath & Body Works store at the mall.
Taking a step back, he regarded her with lightly veiled amusement. “What are you wearing?”
Tucking her chin into her collarbone, she looked down and frowned. What am I wearing? “I’m wearing clothes. And you’re...not.”
Smile lazy, Ethan glanced down at himself, then back up at her. “I’m wearing a towel. I just got out of the shower. Do you wear clothes to take a shower, Gem?”
“No.” She squared her shoulders. “But I wear them when I get out of the shower.”
His smile slid into a broad grin. “Not me. I like to get all nice and dry first.”
Right. He was teasing her now for overreacting. She needed to say something professional.
“I have everything set up in my room for the baby now. The bottle warmer is plugged in next to my nightstand.” Her recalcitrant gaze flashed to his six-pack and then on down to where it disappeared into the towel. “And the baby monitor is here in my pocket.” His skin was smooth and perfectly tanned over muscles that rippled like rings of water on a lake.
Clearing her throat, she forced her eyes to a spot over his shoulder and feigned deep thought about the nanny gear Lucy had lent her. “I think the baby swing will come in handy. The motion will be good for...for, um—” he started to dry his hair with a second towel “—sensory issues.” She had to face it: it was not humanly possible to have a normal conversation while Ethan and his abnormally perfect body were glistening right there in front of her. “Well, I’ll let you get dressed.”
“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. I came out to grab fresh towels for my bathroom. Let me show you where I keep them.” He pointed to a door directly behind her. “Linen closet. Right there.”
Gemma glanced over her shoulder. “Ah. Very good, thank you. I will certainly need towels. Babies are messy, and...I should probably familiarize myself with the laundry room, too.” She could feel him studying her.
“You going somewhere? Besides the laundry room?” he questioned.
“Me? No. Why?”
Ethan shrugged. “You seem...” Tilting his head, he assessed her. “Overdressed. Speaking of messy babies and everything.”
The heat that began in her belly crawled up her neck. She tugged on her jacket, refusing to contemplate that she probably looked like a militant funeral director. “Not at all. Babies respond to physical cues. Proper professional attire sends the signal that the caretaker is calm, efficient and not prone to flights of fancy.”
“Flights of fancy?” He looked as if he was going to laugh outright. “Okay. Well, you look professional, all right. I’ve never seen your hair in a bun before.”
He did laugh then.
Right, she realized. It wasn’t a compliment.
“You have nice hair,” he commented. “I like it down.”
That was a compliment.
“See you later.” Ethan turned, sauntering back down the hallway to the master bedroom.
If the front view was awesome, the view from the rear was nothing to sneeze at either. She watched until she realized she was watching, then spun on her heel, ducked back into her own bedroom and shut the door. Sagging against the wood panel, Gemma smoothed her skirt with damp hands. Think Nanny McPhee. Channel Nanny McPhee.
She wasn’t Ethan’s type of woman. And he wasn’t her type of man—walking around all wet and naked and muscle-bound. Disgusting.
She wished he would come back.
Pushing herself off the door as Cody began to stir in the crib, she commanded herself to concentrate on priorities. She’d didn’t need another relationship disappointment. What she needed was to take care of this little baby and collect the money his generous uncle Ethan was paying so she could realize her dreams all by herself.
Chapter Eight
Ethan awoke early after the soundest sleep he’d had in weeks. Outside his bedroom window, several shades of green leaves and a crystal-blue sky tempted him to take a run before anyone else woke up. At least, he didn’t think anyone else was up. The silence in the house was golden.
Yesterday had been weird and also kind of cool. Before falling asleep last night, he’d stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out the exact moment Gemma Gould had morphed from relaxed, capable friend and caregiver to Mary Poppins on speed. Sometime between setting up the crib and bumping into each other in the hallway, he speculated.
And about that encounter in the hallway...
Tossing back the covers and deciding to get dressed and have breakfast—he was starving—instead of a run, Ethan stretched and headed to his glass-enclosed shower, grinning like an idiot at the memory of Gemma trying not to look at his bare torso.