by Meg Ripley
“I guess you’re right,” she said quietly, swallowing the lump of fear in her throat. “But I don’t really know anyone.”
“Court, you work for Blane Vinson. Have him pay some professional nanny to talk to you. Hell, he could probably afford to buy a whole daycare if he wanted to. Ask him for help.”
But that was absolutely the last thing she could do. Blane had already put this task on her, and he’d made it clear that he knew even less than she did. Courtney suddenly wondered if he even wanted to have anything to do with the baby. There had been so little time to talk about it all. “Yeah. I’ll do that. Thanks.”
“No problem!” Nikki replied, as though she had actually helped. “Hey, a couple friends and I are heading to Bliss on Friday night if you want to join us.”
Courtney had been to the popular hotspot on more than one occasion. She had even met the owner, Jackson Casey. But that was only because Blane had dragged her along, thinking he might need her for something, and it wasn’t as though she had truly enjoyed herself. It had all just been part of the job, like everything else was. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
When she hung up, Courtney felt the backs of her eyes burning with tears. She had no one to turn to. Most women would be able to call their mothers for advice. The situation was an odd one, but any mom would have been glad to help. But the one person who might have been able to tell Courtney what to do was long gone.
As she gazed down at this poor, abandoned baby in her arms, Courtney couldn’t help but think of her own childhood. It had been a good one, at first. Her parents were dedicated people who made sure they spent their extra time with Courtney. They always had their dinners together; even if it wasn’t at the table, and her mother had spread a blanket in the backyard for a picnic, they spent time talking about their days and their dreams. Their home was small but cozy, and it was full of love.
But it was an idyll that couldn’t last forever. Mr. and Mrs. Welsh were passionate people, and one of the subjects they were most invested in was dragon civil rights. In that time, shifters weren’t always well-respected. They were in the entertainment industry quite a bit, but as freaks, more than anything. They were overworked, underpaid, and treated poorly. The Welshes were fighting for the same opportunities humans had, and it was a constant battle.
Once, Courtney had gone to one of the protest rallies with her parents. She was only six, and she had been excited to see her mom and dad in action. Courtney wanted to help; she even held her own protest sign as they stood in front of a tall building and called out synchronized chants with the other dragons. Some of them even partially shifted to show they had a reason to be there. Courtney had been fascinated. She didn’t know many other dragons, and it had been exciting to see the wide array of colors, scale patterns, and spike arrangements.
But things had quickly turned for the worse. While some folks stopped by and showed their support, others shouted and threw things at them. The man who owned the building sent his security team down, and it was then that the Welshes decided to grab their daughter and leave. Courtney hadn’t wanted to go, curious to see what would happen next, but she was hurriedly put into the back of the car and hauled off. She had never been allowed to go to another rally after that.
This had upset her, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt when her parents didn’t return from a protest one day. Courtney had been left with a sitter, to keep her safe. She didn’t enjoy going to the old lady’s house down the street; there were hardly any toys, and the woman would listen to boring radio programs. Mrs. Hodgkins served things like crackers with liverwurst and hot tea for snacks, and Courtney was always anxious for her parents to return.
On that fateful night, even as a young child, Courtney knew that her parents were running late. They were always on time to pick her up. If they told the sitter they’d be back by nine, they’d arrive ten minutes before. But it was fifteen past, and then half an hour, and the grandfather clock in the living room only continued to tick the seconds away.
Finally, the phone rang, and Courtney’s tiny shoulders had sagged with relief. She was sure the rally had gone over, and they were calling to apologize to Mrs. Hodgkins and explain that they’d be there as soon as possible.
But the old woman instantly took the phone into the next room, and Courtney tiptoed along behind her to catch the conversation. “Are you sure? Oh, no. Oh, dear. Oh, I can’t tell her. I just can’t! I’m not her relative or anything. No, I don’t know any other family. I only know—knew them. Yes. Yes. All right.”
Courtney had quickly darted back to the couch when Mrs. Hodgkins hung up. Her heart pounded, wondering what was happening, but she didn’t want to get in trouble for eavesdropping. Her parents encouraged her to be curious, but they wouldn’t have tolerated that.
Mrs. Hodgkins had a wrinkled old face, but a few lines had somehow suddenly been added to it. She touched her mouth gingerly with her hand, as though she couldn’t decide how to make it work, and slowly sank into her chair. Her dark eyes darted to Courtney and then quickly away. She said nothing.
Courtney considered asking. Her parents would have told her what was going on right away, but they weren’t like most adults; even at a young age, Courtney understood that. She turned her gaze to the television, even though she wasn’t watching, and waited for Mrs. Hodgkins to be ready to talk to her.
A knock at the door gave her renewed hope, but the two uniformed men on the threshold didn’t. “You’ll have to come with us, Miss Welsh,” one of them said kindly. He had a bald head and wrinkled eyes, and she could tell he was trying to be friendly.
“What’s going on? Where are Mommy and Daddy?” she insisted. She hated the old plaid couch that Mrs. Hodgkins had, but she clung to it as though it were a life raft in a sea of confusion. She didn’t know these men. For all she knew, they were some of the bad people her parents had been fighting against. She had seen other men in uniform when she had been allowed to go to that one rally, and they didn’t seem to be the good guys.
“Sweetheart, it’s kind of a long story. I’m going to need you to come down to the station with us so we can talk about it.” The bald man smiled at her.
Courtney huddled against the back of the couch. “No! My house is just down the street! I’ll walk there myself, but I’m not going with you!”
Mrs. Hodgkins tried to interfere. “Courtney, please trust me. These men are trying to help you.”
“No!” She could feel exhaustion creeping in behind her eyes. She wanted a hug from her parents, her cozy pajamas, and her warm bed. But she wasn’t going to get it.
And that night at the police station had only been the beginning of Courtney’s new life.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sweet pea.” She dabbed at her tear that had landed on Amanda’s arm. “We’re going to figure this out, one way or another. At the very least, you’ve got people who want to take care of you. And we’re going to.” Courtney knew that Blane had the finances to care for a baby, even if he had seemed terrified by the little squirming package on the doorstep. Neither one of them probably knew all the details, but she would figure it out.
Amanda watched her with big blue eyes. Blane’s eyes. Her little hands twisted together, the fingers twining. Courtney wondered if the baby was really as worried as she looked.
“Okay. Nikki isn’t going to be any help, and I don’t have any family. There must be someone else. Who do I know who has children? And who won’t go blabbing this to the media?” Courtney knew it was inevitable, but it was best if they kept this baby under wraps for the moment.
Amanda curled her little hands into fists, her face reddened, and she started to cry. The noise pierced the silence of the living room, making Courtney nervous.
“Sshh, little one. We’ll figure it out.” She bobbed the baby up and down in her arms, trying to remember what she had seen her mother do all those years ago when she used to babysit. It was such a long time ago, though, and Courtney hadn’t paid much attention. She co
uldn’t have imagined she’d need the information herself one day.
The baby wasn’t convinced, fussing with more intensity.
“Here’s an idea. My mother used to sing me this song, and I always loved it. Maybe you will, too.” She wasn’t sure she could remember the lyrics, but “Kookaburra” had been one of Courtney’s favorites. It was so silly sounding, and it was the best she could remember. Her mother had to explain that a kookaburra was a cute little bird, and this had ended up involving a trip to the library so Courtney could see for herself.
The song helped, but Courtney knew it wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, this little thing would need to be fed, changed, and probably bathed. “I definitely don’t have time to go out to Bliss with Nikki,” she told the baby. “A nanny doesn’t get to spend her time in a nightclub.”
A sudden thought hit her hard. When she’d been to Bliss before, she had met Cathy, the wife of the club’s owner. Cathy was raising her two step-children with Jackson. She might know what to do. Courtney instantly rushed to her briefcase for her address book.
* * *
When the doorbell rang half an hour later, Courtney bustled to the door with the baby in her arms. She had managed to change Amanda’s diaper—using one of Blane’s old t-shirts, for lack of a better option—but the baby still wasn’t very happy with her.
Unfortunately, it was only the mailman. He handed her the massive stack of mail, smiled with confusion at the child, and left.
“I don’t think fan mail is going to help us very much,” she remarked as she closed the door. She’d learned that she couldn’t set Amanda down unless she wanted to listen to her cry, so she took the post to the table to begin sorting through it. There were several bills, which she set aside to forward to Blane’s accountant. A few envelopes covered in hearts and stickers went into a separate stack for Blane to read later, if he cared to go through his fan mail at all. Most of the time, there was too much of it to keep up with. Courtney laid the stack of catalogs on the coffee table in case Blane wanted them, but she knew the housekeeper would be pitching them by the end of the week.
Just as her mobile phone rang and Amanda began to cry all over again, the doorbell rang. “Please be Cathy,” Courtney whispered to herself as she trotted across the room.
And it was. “I came as quickly as I could,” she said in her thick Irish accent. Cathy instantly focused on the baby and scooped her out of Courtney’s arms, setting her against her chest and holding her expertly. “Someone just left her on the doorstep?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry to have bothered you. I just didn’t know who else to call.”
“Don’t be silly,” Cathy assured her. “This is a big deal, and I’m happy to help. Did she come with any formula or anything?”
Courtney’s arms, now free from the weight of the child, flapped helplessly in the air. “No. Nothing. I wasn’t even sure what she needed. But maybe you could help me make a list? We can order anything and have it delivered here.” She had considered this after she’d called Cathy, but she hadn’t been sure what she would need to get.
Cathy’s brown eyes widened. “Oh, my. That’s going to be a lot of stuff. She’ll need diapers, wipes, formula and bottles.”
Since Cathy was the one holding the baby, Courtney quickly grabbed a pen and paper. “Simple enough.”
“Then of course there are clothes, blankets and socks. Oh, and I don’t suppose you have any furniture for her?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Okay. You’ll need a crib and a changing table, at the very least. A bassinet is nice so that you have a place to put her down other than her room, and a swing is always a good choice as well.”
Courtney wrote furiously, not wanting to miss a thing. Her phone had started ringing once again, and for the fifth time that day, she didn’t bother answering. If it was someone important enough, they would call her back; she had bigger things to deal with. But that wasn’t going to last forever. Eventually, she would need to be able to juggle both jobs if she wanted the double salary Blane had promised her. Setting the notepad down and looking forlornly at Cathy, she asked, “Is this always going to be so complicated?”
The other woman smiled at her and patted her arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I’ll help you get started, and pretty soon you’ll realize that your instincts are taking over.”
Courtney looked at the baby doubtfully. She still wasn’t completely calm, but she seemed happy enough in Cathy’s arms. “Why would they? She isn’t even mine.”
Cathy’s smile increased. “Trust me, that doesn’t matter. You’re just a little thrown off right now because you weren’t expecting her, but you’ll get the hang of it soon enough. I’ll help you, and then you get the fun of teaching Blane.”
“That’ll be interesting!” Courtney laughed, and it felt good. Blane had practically run away from the baby, eager to dump his new problem on her. Well, she would show him. By the time he got home, she would have everything taken care of.
Chapter Four
The movie set was chaotically busy. Sound and camera men were checking and rechecking their equipment, pausing to adjust a wire or move a light. Interns rushed back and forth, trying to keep up with the shouted demands of the celebrities. Cameron, looking serious, was in a deep conversation with his assistant.
Blane, however, sat calmly in his chair while a busty young woman finished his makeup. This was the one aspect of being on the silver screen that he didn’t particularly enjoy, but he knew some sacrifices had to be made. Besides, the makeup artists were usually gorgeous young women who were all too happy to flirt with him while they patted on a little powder and coiffed his hair.
“Here you are, sir.” A young intern who didn’t look old enough to be out of high school dashed forward with a cup of coffee. She watched him for a moment, then backed away a few steps. “Um, they said you’re on in five.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a smile, one he knew she’d be telling all her friends about for a few days, but it melted as soon as he took a sip of his coffee. Blane swallowed it, but only barely. “What the hell did you put in this?”
The intern’s eyes got even wider, a feat he didn’t think was possible. “Cream and sugar, sir.”
“Only cream, no sugar!” Blane corrected, shoving the cup back at her.
She grabbed it with shaking hands. “I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a new one!”
“Don’t bother. I’ll get it myself,” he grumbled as he slid out of the makeup chair and ambled through the studio toward the set. If Courtney were there, she would have gotten him a coffee immediately instead of making him wait around for it, and she would have made it exactly to his liking. It was going to be a rough day without her.
As he poured his own coffee, he thought about the incident at the house that morning. How could I possibly have a child? And who is the mother? That was the question he really needed to know the answer to. Dumping a kid on a doorstep? Do people really still do that?
Regardless, he knew Courtney would handle things; that’s how she’d been ever since he’d first hired her. When the agency had sent her, Blane hadn’t been convinced she was the right person for the job. She looked too nice, too innocent. With those doe eyes of hers, Blane had known he would break her within a week and send her running for the hills. And in some way, he had been proud of that thought.
But Courtney had proven him wrong. She had been up for any task he had given her, whether it involved a midnight run to the store because he wanted a Pepsi or a drive to the other side of the city to see how many people had lined up for his autograph signing. He’d even asked her to track down his favorite imported beer, something he knew wasn’t available anywhere nearby. Blane had expected her to come back to him in defeat, admitting she couldn’t get the job done, but instead, she had shown up with a six pack.
“How did you find this?” he had asked in shock, gingerly taking the beer from her.
Courtney had shrugged it off, giving him
a confident smile. “You can find anything if you know where to look.”
Blane had later found out that when her search at local liquor stores had proved fruitless, she’d hopped on a plane and gone out of the state to retrieve it. The task had cost a lot more than a few beers should have, but it impressed Blane enough that he’d decided to keep her on.
And now, as he stirred just the right amount of creamer into his coffee, he knew he had made the right decision. No one else would be able to handle a baby as well as a full-time job as a personal assistant. By the time he made it home, she would have already handled everything. Hell, she probably would have figured out that the whole baby thing was a huge mistake and got the child back to her real parents.
“We’re ready for you,” someone said from his side.
Blane set his cup down again regretfully. He hadn’t had nearly enough caffeine, and he could only hope that it didn’t show through the camera. Blane sauntered over to the set. It had been arranged to look like a romantic restaurant, complete with candles in little red jars and waiters with extraordinary mustaches. Cheesy, Blane thought, but the women in the audience will go nuts for it.
He took his place at the table in the center, right across from a stunning woman with cascading waves of blonde hair. Elizabeth Monroe was a hot item those days, and Blane knew that his name next to hers on the opening credits was going to draw massive crowds. Her assistant was touching up her makeup, straightening her jewelry, and making sure her black dress sat on her shoulders perfectly. “Okay, Jeannie. That’s enough,” the actress snapped. “I’ve had about enough of you fluttering around me all day.”
