by Lori Wilde
“I think this will do it. I can just see the little darlings cuddling up with these adorable cows.” Jillian wiggled her shoulders under a champagne silk blouse that matched her skirt.
“I’ll ring them up fast,” she promised. “You must be over your lunch hour.”
“Oh, my boss is so understanding,” Jillian assured her. “The shower is tonight, and this is absolutely the only time I have to shop today.”
Cole caught Tess’ eye as Jillian carried her selections to the counter.
“Her?” He mouthed the question.
“No way.” She spoke in haste, then wondered if this could be a way out for her. It would almost certainly save one of her friends from the pain of being dumped by a Bailey.
“Her,” he said in an emphatic whisper, nodding.
Convenient or not, Tess didn’t like it. If he could come into a baby store and find a woman he wanted to date, why bother involving her at all?
He chatted up Jillian while Tess tallied the purchases. She should have been delighted to get rid of the cows, but the inane conversation at the counter was so distracting she had to check the total twice.
“Actually, I came here today because Tess promised to do me a small favor,” Cole said.
“What’s that?” Jillian’s tone questioned whether there could possibly be anything a hunk like Cole needed from a drab shop girl like Tess. Or maybe Tess only wanted her to have nasty thoughts. Perfect people should have noble, uplifting thoughts. If Jillian’s were unpleasant, then she didn’t qualify as perfect.
“She promised to fix me up for a date this Friday.”
Jillian’s jaw dropped. “Are you asking me out?”
“I thought you said Saturday night,” Tess interjected.
“Change of plans. You’ll vouch for me, won’t you?” he asked.
“I vouch,” she said, disgruntled by how pointless it had been to worry about finding him a date.
“I didn’t know Tess had such a beautiful friend.” Cole focused those dark smoky-gray eyes on Jillian’s pert little face. She giggled.
Tess suppressed an urge to give him a swift kick in the butt. “Do you want a date for Friday night, Jillian?”
“Well, I don’t know. I never accept blind dates, but I have seen you, haven’t I? And Tess vouches for you.”
“I had in mind a late dinner, maybe pick you up at eight,” Cole suggested.
“That would be very nice. Let me give you my contact info.”
“I’ve got a Sharpie if you want to write it on the back of his hand,” Tess said.
“Huh?” Jillian blinked.
“Never mind,” Cole waved. “Inside joke.”
Jillian took a business card from her purse and pressed it into Cole’s hand, then she scooped up two big plastic bags and power-walked to the exit.
“I guess you’re not here to buy a baby gift,” she said to Cole when they were alone. “Jillian is probably planning to have a set of twins with you as the daddy after that come-on.”
“Doubt that, but thanks for...”
“I know, vouching for you.” Whatever that meant. “She’s perfect. I don’t know why she’s still single except she has a dynamite career. I hope you have a good time.”
“Thanks, I probably will, but I doubt she’s perfect.”
Oh, come on, Tess wanted to say. “She’s a petite blonde with a perfect haircut.” There was that word again—perfect. “Plus, she has porcelain skin with a flawless complexion, sky-blue eyes, a really tasteful wardrobe...”
“Whoa, I meant it when I said it’s what’s inside that counts.”
“Oh.” This was a new side of Cole Bailey. “Well, she works with a lot of volunteer groups including the Humane Society, so she must care about animals and people.”
“You’ve helped me without even picking up the phone. Thanks, Tess. But I came here about the new products. I have to go to a builders’ supply place east of here, so I stopped on the way to tell you I’ll set up a sneak peek of the new line as soon as possible.”
“And to check whether I’d arranged a date for you yet?”
“That, too.” He grinned broadly. “But I knew I could trust you to keep your word. I’ll let you know how it goes with...” He hesitated.
“Jillian. Jillian Davis. Check the card she gave you.”
“Will do.” One sardonic smile later and he was gone.
She watched him leave, surprised that his long, sexy stride caused her heart to skip a beat. She didn’t know how the date would go, but at least some of the comatose cows were gone, and she only had to find him six more dates.
Cole left work early, which for him still meant putting in a twelve-hour shift, to take advantage of the long summer day and pulled up to the brick building that housed the research and development department, along with the administrative offices of Bailey Baby Products.
He’d called ahead to make sure his mother would be there, not that she ever left her office at a normal quitting time. If workaholism was inherited, everyone in the family but his brother Nick had gotten it from Marsh, although with him and Zack, it was more a matter of survival for their fledgling company than a compulsion.
Hoping Marsh wasn’t in the building, Cole took the elevator to his mother’s third-floor office suite. It’d been nearly a year since either him or his twin brother had been at the plant, although for their mother’s sake, they were civil to their grandfather during the Sunday dinners at her house.
Still, Cole didn’t want to bump into the old man.
The outer office was deserted. His mother worked long hours because she loved it but didn’t expect her employees to sacrifice their home lives for the company.
Their mom had been rocked by the death of her husband, Nick Sr., a good man who gave his stepsons as much attention as his own son, Nick Jr.
She put all her energy into running the business to forget her sorrow, and it helped her immensely. After two years of widowhood, she was her old self again. But if she lost control of the plant because of her father’s high-handed manipulations, she’d be devastated.
“Mom?”
The door to her inner office was slightly ajar, and Cole stepped into the cool interior. His mother managed to make an efficient working office warm and inviting with earth tones, strategic lighting, and pricey artwork on the walls.
“Honey, how are you?”
“Great.” He came over to give her a peck on the cheek. “Guess what? I’ve got a date with a nice woman on Friday night,” he said.
“That’s wonderful, Cole.” She got up, hugged him, and then walked to a table where a big pitcher of iced tea, damp with condensation, sat on a tray with two tall glasses. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Sure.” Tea wasn’t his favorite beverage, but he was thirsty enough to drink Detroit River water.
She poured a glass of iced tea and passed it to him.
“What’s this thing?” Cole examined a gizmo on her desk. He wasn’t sure whether it was supposed to entertain babies or make them want to crawl back into the womb. He played with the weird spiral-shaped labyrinth, wondering if maybe he’d hit on the truth when he told Tess his mom wanted grandchildren.
Maybe part of her enthusiasm for her job came from her love of babies. She had a lot to offer as a grandmother.
“It’s a toy. It must be a winner because you’re playing with it,” she teased.
He dropped the item like a hot rivet. She’d gotten him on that one, and he grinned sheepishly.
“Tell me about your date.” She daintily sipped her tea.
“She’s a friend of an old acquaintance. Do you remember Tess Morgan?”
Mom looked pensive. “Is she the sweet girl who tutored you in British lit?”
“That’s her. She owns Tikes in the Shops at Rockstone. She’s doing me a favor introducing me to friends of hers, and in exchange, I promised her a sneak peek at the new product line.” He paced the office; she still had tons of pictures of him, Zack, a
nd Nick on the walls.
The cutesy photos used in early catalog ads embarrassed him. Poses of curly-haired twins with Bailey toys made him remember how bored he’d been as a child model—bored but successful.
To her credit, his mother had refused to let them work for any of the agencies that besieged them with lucrative offers. She even stood up to Marsh in limiting how much work they did for the Bailey catalogs. It was one of the rare disputes his mother had actually won when it came to showdowns with Marsh. She did much better these days, but as chairman of the board, he was still a tyrant.
“I guess there’s no problem at this late date,” Sue said thoughtfully. “The new catalog will be ready next month for wholesale Christmas orders.”
“Tess isn’t an industry spy,” he said dryly.
“Of course not. Actually, this is a good time to give her a preview. We have a display set up in one of the design labs for some potential investors.”
“Investors? Is Marsh going to go back on his word and agree to a buyout before he retires? Does he want to go public?”
“He’s always playing around with the possibility. It’s his way of keeping everyone on edge.”
His mother didn’t sound concerned.
Cole was. It wasn’t his employees Marsh wanted to unnerve. Cole’s grandfather was holding the threat of a sellout over his head and Zack’s. He’d better find Ms. Right soon to ensure that his mother wouldn’t lose control of the business.
“Why don’t you and Tess join your grandfather and the investors tomorrow? Their tour is scheduled for nine a.m.”
Um, no thanks. He’d rather eat nails. “I had in mind a private sneak preview. You know, give her a chance to look it over without the pressure of having Marsh there.”
“A private showing with Tess?” His mother smiled—slyly, he thought. “I see.”
“Tess and me? No, no way. She’s just a friend, and I owe her a favor.”
“If you say so.” His mother paused. “Why did you persuade her to help you get dates?”
“She’s not getting me dates, Mom.” Maybe he sounded juvenile, but he wanted his mother to be perfectly clear on this. “She’s only putting me in the loop with some nice women. I don’t meet any when I spend all my time on the job.”
“She’s doing this just so she can see our new line?” She pursed her lips.
“No, I’m showing it to her just to be nice.”
“Then why does she care about helping you?”
“She lost a bet.”
He was getting The Look. His mother was a head shorter than he was, and slender to the point of being almost too thin, but when she raked him with her smoky-gray eyes, he still squirmed.
“Lost at what?”
“Pool. Two out of three games.”
“Was it a fair contest?” she asked.
“Tess plays in a pool league. I nearly lost to her. Anyway, I can’t leave the site of the condos we’re building during the workday. I was thinking of bringing her around nine in the evening. Is that all right?”
“The after-hours codes have changed, so I’d better write them down for you.” She took a legal pad and wrote a neat series of numbers and letters. “Your grandfather has been tinkering with the new security system again. He’s obsessed with catching industrial spies.”
“He’s not happy unless he’s meddling,” Cole said. He wished Marsh would be content fiddling with mechanical things and leave people— especially his family—alone.
“The important part is punching in these numbers at exactly twenty-minute intervals. There’s a panel in the lab as well as in the hallway.” She pointed with one neatly polished, but not long, fingernail. “Best to set the timer on your phone. There’s only a thirty-second margin for error.”
“Got it. Thanks, Mom.” He bent his head and kissed her soft, smooth cheek.
“Don’t let the security alarm go off. It would put your grandfather in a dither.”
“Trust me, Mom,” he said, then scooted from the room.
He asked his mom to trust him, but he wasn’t sure he trusted himself. Especially when picking a proper wife, but at least he had a date Friday night.
It was a start.
4
“Why are we sneaking in?” Tess asked in a breathy whisper.
“We’re not sneaking.” Cole answered a little louder than necessary to make his point.
“This feels sneaky. It’s dark and creepy in here.”
“The corridor lights dim automatically at night, that’s all. My mother has no objection to having you see the new products. The catalog will be out pretty soon anyway.”
“I still feel like a cat burglar. Why are you wearing all black?”
“These are the only clean jeans I could find, and I have a lot of black T-shirts. Do you see me wearing a ski mask?”
“I still feel funny.”
“I cleared it with the head honcho, who also happens to be my mother.”
“Not your grandfather?”
“Kicked upstairs to chairman of the board.” He didn’t want to talk about the old man. “Here we are. I have to punch in the after-hours code.” He pulled out the slip of paper his mother had given him and entered the sequence of numbers on the panel beside the door.
“Just like in spy movies.” She giggled nervously. “Are you going to eat the code when you’re done?”
“Can’t. I have to enter another sequence of numbers at twenty-minute intervals.”
He opened the door and snapped on the bright overhead lights, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. He stepped into the big room behind her and took a couple of seconds to set his watch.
“What happens if you don’t?”
She seemed more interested in the security system than the products she’d come to see. Damn, he’d forgotten about her raging curiosity. How long would it take for her to ferret out his real reason for wanting to meet her friends?
“The lab self-destructs, and we fall through a trapdoor in the floor to a chamber of horrors. We’ll be strapped into giant high chairs, forced to eat mushy beets and spinach, and subjected to talking toys until we’re both raving lunatics.”
“Imaginative. I’ve never seen a lab with a wall border of lambs, kitties, and ducks.”
She glanced around at the large lab, white and sterile-looking except for the wall decorations. The products were displayed on long, waist-high worktables with specifications printed on neat cardboard signs.
Cole followed her gaze until it rested on a huge photo of Zack and him as kids. They were floating on an inflated water ship, one of Bailey’s colossal failures thanks to a tendency to sink when the passengers weighed more than forty pounds.
Tess walked over to the glossy framed blowup. “You were adorable. Oh, and look at this one.” She pointed to a shot of a gap-toothed Zack crawling out of an inflated imitation of an industrial pipe while Cole sat astride the top.
His mother had hung her sons’ photos everywhere. Tess strolled around the room studying the advertising poses he preferred to forget about. His masculinity did a nosedive as she cooed over the cutesy curly-haired images.
“Did you get to keep the toys you posed with?” she asked.
“Not after we sliced up the inflated giant beach ball with a dagger from Marsh’s World War II collection. Seems as though all our toys were metal after that. I thought you wanted to see the new products.”
“I do, I do.”
He guided her over to the products. She pounced. Seriously perusing the products and making intelligent comments instead of just oohing and aahing. Cole found himself enjoying her interest.
“Here’s a winner.”
She slowly wandered over to see what he was pointing at. “An inflatable potty for traveling, that whisks everything away in a neat bundle. It’s ingenious. Kudos to your R&D team. Where’s the baby-wipes warmer that plays lullabies?”
“I dunno,” he said.
She caught her gaze and held it. “You’re really no
t interested in any of this, are you?”
“Nope.”
She lingered beside a high-tech stroller complete with WiFi that sold for more than his first car in high school, then she exclaimed over an artsy high chair in screaming neon green.
He was bored out of his socks by the displays but found himself enjoying the way she moved around the room. Her shorts showed off her long, shapely legs while still not overexposing her. Her waist was tiny, her hips curvy. Tonight, she was wearing a blue knit T-shirt. With eyes like hers, she shouldn’t wear any other color—they shone like a pair of pricey sapphires.
Easy as she was to watch, he couldn’t share her enthusiasm for the products. He knew Bailey Baby Products was a lucrative business, but he wanted to stake his own claim in the world, not ride Marsh’s coattails.
He wanted to build his own designs, well-constructed, pleasant, affordable homes for people who’d never see the inside of an overblown mansion like Marsh Bailey’s. Cole and Zack had hopes of winning some commercial bids that would put their business on a firmer footing.
“Aha, here’s the baby-wipes warmer,” she said, her voice amplified by the lab’s silent vastness. She picked it up, and a little beeping sound went off that didn’t stop when she put it down.
“What’s that noise?” she asked.
“The timer on my phone. It’s time to enter the code. This’ll just take a sec.”
He had thirty seconds. No sweat. He went to the wall panel in the lab, trying to recall the code—three-seven-five-eight-nine, or was it six? He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and took out his wallet where he’d stashed the code, counting seconds and pretty sure he was running out of time.
The dull thud from the door wasn’t reassuring.
“What was that?” Tess asked.
“The locks engaged.” He punched in the code his mother had given him, but nothing happened. The door wouldn’t open. He tried again in case he’d made a mistake. Still nothing.
“Uh-oh. Can’t you open the door?”
“No.” He tried a third time. No go. He should have set his alarm to allow extra time, but thirty seconds had seemed plenty long enough to punch in the code even if he had to look at the paper. Why did Marsh have such an elaborate system?
