by Maren Smith
“Okay, fine. But how many of those men you know would feel that devoted to someone else’s kid?” she countered. “I wouldn’t give Megan up for anything, but since I’ve had her I’ve learned babies are pretty much the napalm of the dating jungle. A woman can be swarming with men, but whip out a baby and suddenly everyone disappears.”
“I haven’t disappeared.”
“You’re also marrying me to further your career ambitions and only for two years.” Having spread a protective changing pad over the bed and lain the baby in the middle of it, Jamie looked up from the wet diaper she was changing to flash him a quick smile. “That doesn’t exactly make you Mister Right. You’re more like Mister Right Now.”
Had she been looking, she might have noticed the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw and mouth. But Travis didn’t say anything, and Jamie didn’t look. Instead, she rolled the dirty diaper in on itself and used the sticky tabs to secure it in a tight ball before handing it to him. “Here. Can you throw this away, please?”
Travis took the diaper between two fingers and carried it into the adjacent bathroom. When he returned, Megan had a clean diaper on and Jamie was struggling to work a one-piece pink-and-white sleeper onto an infant who was suddenly as boneless as a jelly fish and infinitely more interested in rolling over than getting dressed. The battle was close, but Jamie won. With the pajamas zipped up into place, Megan was lifted from the changing pad.
“That feels so much better, doesn’t it?” Jamie cooed, gently rubbing noses with the baby, who promptly clasped her mother’s face in return and grinned.
Standing in the bathroom doorway, it suddenly became very, very easy to imagine Jamie surrounded by babies. Dark haired, blue eyed babies with her cute as a button nose and his chin.
Travis stiffened, trying his best to banish that thought.
Noticing him staring, Jamie lowered Megan to her lap. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You have a funny look on your face.”
“Is it that Last-Candy-in-the-Dish look again? If so, I apologize, I’ve sent my eyes a memo detailing intra-expressive reforms. They must not have received it yet.”
She smiled and shook her head. “If nothing else, you’ll be good for my ego. Two years of that and I won’t be able to fit my head through the door to leave.”
Lacking her mother’s attention, Megan began to fuss and Jamie turned back to bouncing and cooing silly, nonsensical baby things to soothe her.
“May I?” Travis indicated to the baby.
“She doesn’t usually like strangers,” Jamie said and lifted the baby to her shoulder again.
“She’ll have to get used to me sooner or later,” he reasoned. “I promise not to drop her.”
After a slight hesitation, Jamie reluctantly nodded, and Travis returned to the bed. As he took Megan, his large hands overlapping where they wrapped around her middle, the baby grinned and reached for him, kicking her pudgy legs. She didn’t seem at all concerned over the possibility of being dropped, which added one more good reason to the list for why children should have eighteen years to wizen up before being tossed out into the world to fend for themselves.
Travis held Megan at arms’ length and stared at her. Now what?
Jamie smiled in spite of herself. “You’ve never held a baby before?”
“A real one?” he asked. “No. Is it that obvious?”
“You could hold her a little closer. She’s not a bomb; she won’t explode.”
Gingerly, Travis lay Megan to his shoulder the way he’d seen Jamie do. His eyebrows arched. “All right. This isn’t so bad. I can do this.”
“But it’s pretty easy right now,” Jamie said with a smile. “Megan isn’t crying, the phone isn’t ringing, no one’s knocking at the door, the washing machine isn’t walking across the floor because the load’s unbalanced, and dinner isn’t burning in the oven. When all that happens and you can still smile and say, ‘This isn’t so bad, I can do this,’ then I’ll be impressed.”
“My, my,” Travis drawled. “We really are hard to please, aren’t we? All right.” He turned and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Downstairs,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’m going to call a judge to marry us, and hope someone comes knocking on my door as I’m doing it. I’m not entirely sure where my washing machine is located, or if I even have one, but I’m almost certain I can burn something in the oven.” He paused in the hallway just outside the door. “While Megan and I get to know one another, why don’t you unpack, settle in, make a list of anything you need. Whatever it is, we’ll get it tomorrow.”
“Judas,” Jamie called after Megan, who was touching Travis’s face with exploring hands and making absolutely no effort to live up to her stranger-disliking reputation. Apparently, the effects of tall, dark and handsome on feminine sensibilities knew no age limit.
Halfway down the stairs, Travis happened to glance through the half-moon window above the door and spotted a car pulling into the driveway.
“Well now,” he said the Megan. “Looks like we’re going to have company after all.”
He took a moment to toss the remainder of Jamie’s things into the closet with the playpen. Then he did his best to smooth Megan’s dandelion fluff of cowlicks down around her head before he opened the front door. He froze. The Kuronabes, Yuko and Tetsuo, climbed out of the back of their cab. Yuko waved while his brother simply stared, and they came up the walk together.
“Hello,” Travis said with surprise, bowing as they did, though in his head he kept thinking: Jamie was upstairs, he had a baby in his arms, and they’d dropped in unannounced so it didn’t look contrived.
Perfect.
And Megan, the darling little dandelion child, as the Kuronabes stepped up to the door, she curled shyly into Travis’s broad shoulder and hugged him.
Note to self: Give baby an allowance.
He smiled. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
You could always tell the parents from the bachelors and the childless. Yuko was a parent.
“Who is this?” He gushed, all grins for the baby’s sake.
Why, the darling daughter of the woman I picked to become my fake wife, just to appease you, of course.
“Where are my manners?” Travis drawled. “This is my Megan. She’s not that fond of strangers.”
He tried to coax the suddenly shy baby to turn again, but she only looked at the Kuronabes before squirming back around to clutch his neck, carefully watching the Japanese businessmen while clinging as close to Travis as she could possibly get.
An allowance and, if she keeps this up, she can pretty well consider her college tuition paid. He didn’t know if six-month-olds could talk yet, but one well placed ‘da-da’ right about now would land her a Ferrari for her sixteenth birthday.
“How old?” Yuko asked, tickling the bottom of Megan’s foot.
“Six months.”
“Poof poof,” he said in a sing-song voice as he patted Megan’s dandelion top. Then he beamed at Travis, held up one finger and reached into his jacket pocket.
Oh, here we go. Baby pictures in the wallet.
Note to self: He needed to get a few.
Travis stared obligingly at the photos of Yuko’s three children, making appropriate noises of adorability, though he found himself thinking, cute as they were, Megan had them all beat.
“That is my daughter, Ayame,” Yuko said proudly. “Three years old, already reads.”
“Really?”
Megan came out from behind his lapel long enough to reach for the proffered wallet. She brought it to her mouth and Travis barely caught it in time to keep her single budding tooth from going to work on the fine leather.
“You know babies,” he said apologetically, handing the wallet back to its owner. “Everything goes straight to their mouths.”
Addendum to previous notes: What do you know, that really was true.
T
etsuo cleared his throat. “We are here to get clarification on two points of your contract.”
Unlike his brother’s smooth, well-practiced English, Tetsuo had a rougher, gravelly voice and he spoke slower, as though carefully considering each word.
Travis held open the door and stepped aside to let them in.
And from the stairs, he heard Jamie say, “I thought I heard voices.”
She had changed into a lovely rose colored, button-down-the-front shirt and jeans that, while faded, did not seem quite so worn. She must not have had a nicer pair of shoes than the sneakers, because she came down the stairs with only white socks on her feet.
“Jamie.” He congratulated himself on how normal he sounded, when in all honesty, as she came to stand on the bottommost step at his shoulder, he felt anything but. “May I introduce the Kuronabes, Tetsuo and Yuko, associates of mine from Japan. Gentlemen, this is my Jamie.”
Jamie flushed a little at his introduction, but as both men bowed, she dipped awkwardly into a returning courtesy and hoped that she was doing it correctly.
Loving and doting, she told herself as she straightened up again. Loving and doting. Thank God, they’d practiced in the car.
As she reached out to take Megan from him, she lay a barely trembling hand on his broad shoulder and rose up on tiptoes to lightly kiss his cheek. His aftershave smelled so good. Her face flushed, her stomach warmed, but thankfully, her voice barely had a hitch to it as she said, “Go ahead and take care of your business, honey. I’ll get dinner started.”
Don’t stare after her like a love-struck fool, Travis told himself firmly. He could still feel the print of her fingers on his shoulder, his cheek burned where her lips had brushed it, and it didn’t work anyway. As Jamie strolled across the living room towards the swinging kitchen door, he watched her the entire way.
After a moment, Tetsuo politely cleared his throat and Travis came back to himself with a start.
“I beg your pardon. Come in, come in.” He gestured the brothers into the immaculate living room. “Have a seat.”
Yuko grinned at him. “It is always easy to spot the ones in love.”
Now it was Travis’s turn to clear his throat. “Yes… ah… what was the first question?”
***
Jamie made it all the way to the kitchen sink before her trembling legs required a counter to lean upon. That wasn’t so bad actually. For the two seconds that she’d interacted with them, the Kuronabes had seemed rather nice. Now if she could just make it through the night in a convincingly loving and doting fashion, then it would be one day down and—she quickly did the math—seven hundred and twenty-nine left to go.
She rubbed the hand she’d touched him with against her jean-clad thigh, but it didn’t help. Her palm still tingled. So did her lips.
Stop it, Jamie! It isn’t real and you know it.
Her shoulders drooped and she sighed. She’d waited a long time for a strong, authoritative man, one who’d take charge and be the boss and who wouldn’t hesitate to give her a ‘firm hand’ when required. So now it seemed she’d found one, and it wasn’t even real.
It was a means to an end. It was going to get her out of debt. So, she really had nothing to feel depressed about.
She set Megan on the floor, giving her a ring of measuring spoons and a spatula to play with before opening the pantry door. She looked the shelves over and her shoulders drooped again. Not only was there no hamburger helper, but there was no macaroni and cheese, no tuna fish, no ready-made packaged meals of any kind.
Great, what was she supposed to do now? Cook from scratch? Nobody cooked from scratch anymore. She bit her bottom lip. She was well out of her culinary depths.
She moved aside a jar of dried kidney beans, then ducked down to look at the bottles neatly spaced on the bottom pantry shelf. She spied a familiar Prego sauce label. Saved. She could make spaghetti. It was even one of the few things that she could make fairly well.
It took a few minutes to gather what she needed. She found the noodles in one cupboard, fresh mushrooms, peppers and tomatoes in the refrigerator, and hamburger for meatballs in the freezer. While the sauce simmered and a quick batch of garlic butter rolls baked in the oven, she hunted the kitchen for plates. Were the Kuronabes still here? Would they be staying for dinner?
Jamie tiptoed to the swinging door and opened it a crack. Yup, still there. Caught up in a discussion of shipment dates and profit percentages.
Behind her, thinking herself about to be left behind, Megan started to cry, and Jamie returned to start the noodles boiling before picking the baby up. Propping her on her hip, Jamie took a deep breath and pushed through the swinging door.
The Kuronabes were sitting side by side on the couch, with Travis on a straight-backed chair across the coffee table from them. He was currently bent, circling a point on the contract, which was spread out in three piles on the glass surface between them. He’d removed his jacket and tie, leaving them draped over the back of the chair. His white dress shirt must have been tailored to him; it stretched the breadth of those broad shoulders just tight enough to show off his physique without pinching or restricting his movements.
Jeez, Jamie. It’s not as if you’ve never seen a man before. Quit staring.
She shook her head at herself, but with any luck he’d have some serious personality flaws. Please, God, let him pick his teeth with his thumbnail at the dinner table or play the National Anthem on his armpit. Something, anything to make him less desirable.
She cleared her throat softly and the three men looked up. “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. I made plenty for everyone, if you’d like to stay.”
“Thank you,” Tetsuo said gruffly. “We are not hungry.”
And the excuse probably would have served if Yuko’s stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to grumble. Loudly.
Tetsuo turned and gave his brother a dark look.
Wide-eyed, Yuko shrugged. “It’s been hours since lunch.”
To an amused Travis, Tetsuo said, “Every time we come to America, we are served sushi.”
“Oh,” Jamie said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make that.”
Tetsuo made a rumbling sound. “At least you admit it.”
Travis leaned back with a low chuckle. “What’s for dinner, sweetheart?”
He said that so easily, the endearment seeming to glide off his tongue as though he meant it.
“Spaghetti,” she said.
“I love Italian!” Yuko exclaimed, earning another dark look from Tetsuo. “What? I’m hungry. I can smell the garlic bread from here.”
“All right, gentlemen,” Travis said as he gathered the contract papers together. “Let’s finish this over supper.”
***
Note to self: Only inedible things headed straight into babies’ mouths. Food went everywhere but. Megan’s hair, Travis decided, as he watched her turn her bowl upside down on her highchair tray and gleefully smear spaghetti sauce everywhere, probably wasn’t even really red. It was likely leftover spaghetti sauce that hadn’t been completely washed out.
Needing to catch their homebound flight, the Kuronabes hadn’t stayed long after dinner. Which was probably for the best, although Megan did put on her best show once Travis and Jamie were alone. She pounded on the metal, sauce-smeared tray and sang wordlessly, cheerfully in fact, quite off key. Then she turned and, with slivers of pasta noodles in her hair and sauce up to her eyebrows, gave him a huge, nearly toothless ‘Aren’t-I-Talented’ grin.
Leaned back in his chair, his elbow on the armrest, chin propped in his palm, Travis smiled back at her. She was absolutely darling, and she knew it. Giggling, she promptly covered her eyes for a very saucy game of peek-a-boo. Thankfully, Jamie had had the foresight to spread two garbage bags on the floor beneath the highchair, otherwise the dining room carpet might have been the first casualty of the marriage.
Travis turned his smile on Jamie, sitting on the other side of the highchair, nursing a
glass of wine between her hands. He’d only poured her the one and, as far as he could tell, she hadn’t touched a drop of it.
“You don’t drink?” he deduced.
She shook her head. “It’s not a good idea.”
His smile faltered. “Are you a mean drunk or a recovering alcoholic?”
Setting the wine aside, Jamie raised her head to look at him. “Would it break our deal if I were either?”
“No. But I would commend you your strong willpower, thank you heartily for not misbehaving in front of our guests, and not serve you liquor in the future.”
For the first time since the Kuronabes left, Jamie smiled. “I breast feed Megan. She doesn’t need the alcohol any more than I do.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t help it. His gaze fell to her chest, the plump mounds outlined by her rose-colored shirt. He cleared his throat and made himself look away. “You did very well tonight, by the way. One day down…”
“Seven hundred twenty-nine to go,” she finished for him. “Yes, I know.”
She was counting?
“Well, give or take a month. It would look rather contrived if we got divorced two years from the anniversary of the day I saw Max trying to steal my contract.”
“I suppose it would,” she agreed, but the look on her face was anything but happy.
“Am I that much of an ogre that you can’t wait to be free of me?” he asked.
The comment won another smile from her. “I’m reserving judgment until I get to know you better.”
“Fair enough.” Travis lifted his glass, swirling the last swallow of wine in the bottom. “I suppose that’s what tomorrow is for. Shopping and getting to know one another.”
As he stood up, he draped his napkin over the top of Megan’s head and quickly kissed the top before she could pull it off again.
“I’ll call the judge,” he said as he headed for the dining room door. “It’s time we got this arrangement solidified.”
Chapter 4
At a few minutes to five, a full hour before his alarm was set to go off, Travis awoke to an ear-piercing shriek. In only a pair of pajama bottoms, he sat bolt upright too close to the edge of the mattress and fell out of bed, dragging half of his bedding and a pillow with him.