Billionaire Baby Dilemma

by Barbara Dunlop

Devin grimaced. “Unfortunately, I don’t know the first thing about being rich.”

  “Take a look at all this,” said Lexi, gesturing in a circle. “What better place to do your research?”

  Devin rolled the idea around in her head.

  She glanced from the pool to the tennis courts, the private dock and boathouse, and the humongous mansion that required a map to navigate. It didn’t get much richer than this. And the Demarcos were certainly prime examples of nasty.

  Her editor would probably be a lot more forgiving of a late manuscript if she had another book idea in the hopper.

  “Here he comes again,” Lexi intoned.

  “Byron?” Devin resisted the urge to twist her head to see the staircase behind her.

  “Lucas.” Lexi took a sip of the iced tea, leaned back and adjusted the damp towel. “You might want to start taking notes.”

  Devin couldn’t help a calculating smirk as Lucas made his way across the pool deck. She wondered how he’d feel about starring in her next book.

  He was still wearing his business suit and a pair of perfectly shined dress shoes, though it had to be seventy degrees this afternoon, hotter in the sunshine. His glance went to Amelia, and he seemed to realize she was sleeping.

  “I need to talk to you,” he whispered.

  “You can use your normal voice,” Devin responded, finding herself watching him closely, thinking about his life and his world and how she might use the Demarcos as fodder for her next book. “Just don’t shout.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, testing the chair that Byron had vacated earlier with the back of his hand. Apparently, satisfied that it was dry, he sat down sideways, those expensively shod feet firmly planted on the textured, concrete deck.

  He gazed at Amelia for a long minute. Then he glanced to Devin, uncertainty plain on his aristocratic face. “I can…uh, hold her. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  Devin’s mouth quirked in a reflexive grin. “You want to hold Amelia?”

  He smoothed his palms along his suit pants. “Yes. Sure.” He nodded, still watching Amelia as if he was afraid she might explode. “I’d like to hold her.”

  “Why?”

  His gray eyes narrowed. “Because she’s my niece.”

  Devin shifted a little, but Amelia didn’t stir. It was probably a good time for Lucas to take another shot. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

  “Just the one time,” he admitted.

  Devin couldn’t help but note the wary expression on his face. “Okay.” She scooted carefully forward.

  At the last minute, she realized that once Amelia was out of her arms, she’d be sitting here in nothing but her bikini. She gritted her teeth and told herself to buck up. Lucas would probably be so busy worrying about Amelia that he wouldn’t even notice.

  She rose and placed the baby carefully in his arms.

  His gaze shifted to her cleavage and stayed there.

  She quickly straightened and stepped back. She briefly debated dashing across the deck to get herself another towel, but she decided that would be too obvious.

  She sat down on the lounger and laid back, pretending she didn’t care about the bikini and truly appreciating the empty arms. She enjoyed holding Amelia, but the baby girl did get heavy after a while.

  Lexi had kept silent, watching with undisguised interest while Lucas held Amelia.

  He seemed to relax ever so slightly, turning, shifting back and putting his legs up on the lounger. He gingerly moved Amelia to a more comfortable position. She wriggled in the big towel, but then went still.

  Devin tried not to notice how good he looked with a baby in his arms. For some reason, the bundle of sleeping Amelia seemed to soften the edges of his expression. He came across as protective instead of harsh. It made him even more attractive, if that was possible.

  “What did you want to talk about?” she asked him, hoping he wasn’t round two of a tag-team match with Byron.

  “A nanny,” said Lucas, his attention still fixed on Amelia.

  “There’s no rush,” she responded. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of Amelia.”

  “I know you are,” he acknowledged. “But you might not always be here.”

  She glared at him.

  “Is that a threat?” Lexi asked.

  Lucas seemed to remember she was there. “I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I intend to win guardianship,” he told them both.

  “As do I,” said Devin.

  Lucas stared evenly back at her. “If you do, you can fire the nanny. If not, I thought you might like to help me choose.” He paused, while Devin sorted the offer out in her mind.

  She didn’t want to even consider the possibility of leaving Amelia with Lucas. Her brain almost refused to go to the worstcase scenario. But it might come to that. And if it did, and she had to leave… Her stomach contracted with pain, and she had to resist the urge to snatch Amelia out of Lucas’s arms.

  If it came to that, wouldn’t she feel better knowing who was caring for Amelia? And would it not be in her best interest to develop a positive relationship with her?

  “I’m not a monster,” said Lucas.

  Lexi gave a grunt of disbelief.

  Lucas shot her a quelling look before returning his attention to Devin. “I’m after exactly the same thing as you.”

  “For very different reasons.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “I’m going to choose a nanny, Devin. You can help me or not, it’s entirely up to—” He gasped in horror.

  Devin sat bolt upright in shock. “What?”

  Lucas nearly leveled her with a look. “Is this child wearing a diaper?”

  Devin shouldn’t laugh. She couldn’t laugh. Oh, dear. She quickly clapped her hand to her mouth.

  “I am wearing a Brioni suit,” Lucas ground from between clenched teeth.

  “Sorry about that,” Devin managed to say.

  “You might have mentioned—”

  “I forgot,” she answered honestly.

  “Forgive me if I have a hard time believing you.”

  “I didn’t mean…” But she was struggling once more not to laugh. “Babies are messy,” she warned him.

  “Is this your idea of revenge?”

  “It’s my idea of letting you be an uncle. They pee, Lucas. They also drool and spit up. And they even—”

  “I’ve already experienced that,” he growled.

  “Be a man about it,” Lexi said.

  “It’s a six-thousand-dollar suit,” he barked at her.

  Amelia opened her eyes, took one look at Lucas and howled in fear.

  He stiffened at the sound. “Oh, for the love of…”

  Devin popped up out of the lounger and rescued Amelia. Lucas’s shirt, slacks and the lower part of his jacket were dark with wetness.

  He stared down at his lap. “There is a reason they invented diapers,” he intoned.

  “Accidents do happen,” said Devin, cradling the damp, but rapidly calming Amelia against her chest.

  Lucas’s glare told her he considered this anything but.

  “Nannies,” said Lucas, smacking a stack of résumés down next to Devin where she sat near one end of the long dining-room table, her laptop open in front of her. After this afternoon’s debacle, he realized more than ever that they needed to get themselves organized.

  Dinner had long since been cleared away. He assumed Amelia was asleep. And Devin had a cup of tea cooling beside her computer as she typed. A plate of cookies and small pastries was in the middle of the table in front of her, but it didn’t look like she’d indulged.

  “Accidents do happen,” she repeated, obviously correctly identifying the source of his displeasure. She hit another key then closed the laptop.

  “Accidents,” he responded as he settled into the chair at the end of the table, around the corner from hers, “can be prevented.”

  “Are you always this controlling?” she asked, glancing at the top nanny résumé.

&
nbsp; “I’m always this organized.” He lifted the résumé and began reading. “Graduated from the London Royal Nanny Academy in 1978.”

  “Too old.”

  He looked up. “I requested someone with experience.”

  Devin shook her head. “Not that much experience. Amelia will be walking soon, and toddlers are energetic.”

  “We’re looking for a nanny, not a playmate.”

  Devin set her cup firmly down into the saucer. “I expect a good nanny to spend plenty of time playing with Amelia.”

  “And I expect a good nanny to know her way around a changing table.”

  “You need to get over that, Lucas.”

  “I am over it.” He pointedly went back to reading.

  “Sure you are,” Devin muttered.

  Well, he could be forgiven his frustration. Amelia had looked fairly sweet and harmless while she slept on Devin’s lap. It had seemed like a perfect chance for him to stick his toe in the water of uncle-hood. How was he to know the baby was effectively booby-trapped?

  But Devin had known.

  He strongly suspected she’d set him up. But it would take more than that to dissuade him from bonding with Amelia. He’d already started reading a couple of how-to books. He’d master baby-raising or die trying.

  He refocused his attention on the résumé in front of him. “It says she’s orderly, organized and—within her standard routine template—will customize a schedule that fits our lifestyle.”

  “Standard routine template?” Devin’s tone was incredulous.

  He glanced at her again. “What?”

  “There’s no standard routine template for raising babies. All babies are unique.”

  “I’m sure she means meals and naps and walks and things.”

  “Babies should sleep when they’re tired and eat when they’re hungry.”

  Lucas blinked. That sounded an awful lot like chaos to him. “Are you joking?”

  “Absolutely not. Routines ought to be child-led for the first few years.”

  He paused, squinting at her. “You’re messing with me, right?”

  She whisked the résumé out of his hand and put it facedown on the table. “Next.”

  “Put the baby in charge? Good grief, Devin. It’s a baby.”

  She took the next résumé from the pile. “Early childhood certificate from Boise College.”

  “Idaho?”

  “‘Within broad boundaries, will create a positive, nurturing environment that respects the individuality and creativity of each child.’”

  “Is that code for raising spoiled, ill-mannered hooligans?”

  “I think it’s code for kindness and compassion.”

  Lucas snagged the résumé from her hand and put it facedown with the other. “Next.”

  “Hey!”

  “You get a veto? Then so do I.”

  Devin compressed her lips.

  “You want to split the pile?” he asked. Maybe they could narrow it down a little by swapping their acceptable choices.

  “Can we do it tomorrow?”

  Lucas glanced at his watch. Nine-thirty. “What’s wrong with now?” He didn’t believe in procrastination. When a job needed to get done, you did it.

  “I’m a little tired.”

  He couldn’t help a reflexive eye-roll. “From swimming in the pool and lounging in the sun?”

  She retrieved the laptop case from the chair beside her and slid open the zipper. “Those iced-tea glasses were awfully heavy.”

  Her joke caught him off guard. He’d expected a snappy, if not angry retort to his jab.

  “I’d like to get this over with,” he explained.

  “Look.” She sighed. “It may seem early to you, but I’ve had approximately six hours sleep a night, in two or three separate segments, for the past three months. I’m tired.” She gestured to the laptop. “I have a deadline. I’d like to take a quick run, have a quick bath and try my best to rejuvenate my brain cells before Amelia wakes up again.”

  Devin stuffed the laptop inside the case, zipped it up and came to her feet. He stood with her. The light from the chandelier caught her face, and for the first time he noticed dark circles under her eyes.

  Up until now, he’d been distracted by the sapphire-blue of her irises. They glowed when she smiled at Amelia, flared when she was angry and turned crystal clear when her brain was working on a problem or coming up with a clever retort to something he’d said.

  Right now, they seemed faded, like a misty sky on a southern summer day.

  “You okay?” he automatically asked.

  She tipped her head, gazing up at him. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “You sure you want to run?” He thought about offering to accompany her again. But he’d been a bit of a cad last time. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to prove. The fact that he had longer, more muscular legs perhaps?

  “I’m sure,” she answered.

  “You know,” he couldn’t help but point out, “the sooner we find a nanny, the sooner you can get some more sleep.”

  She closed her eyes for a split second, her shoulders seeming to droop. He had to check the urge to reach out and steady her.

  “I was wrong when I said you were controlling,” she told him.

  Progress? He felt hope rise.

  “You’re not controlling. You are excruciatingly goal-oriented.”

  She made it sound like a flaw.

  “It only comes across as controlling,” she continued, “because you try to drag the rest of the world along with you.”

  “Sometimes the world needs a little dragging.”

  Take Devin. She could get an extra hour of sleep tonight, or she could agree with him on a nanny and get extra sleep from here on in. It was a no-brainer to Lucas.

  “Sometimes you have to stop and smell the roses,” she told him.

  “They don’t bloom until July,” he pointed out.

  Devin cracked a small smile at that, even as she shook her head. Then she reached for her laptop case, and Lucas automatically reached out to lift it for her, brushing her shoulder with his forearm as he leaned around her.

  The touch was electric, and he reflexively jerked away. The action brought the front of his thigh against the side of hers, and sexual energy jump-started his body.

  What was the matter with him?

  Sure, she was a gorgeous woman. But he’d been careful to keep that in perspective. He had no call, no business, no right to think of her as anything other than an obstruction. He wanted Amelia, and Devin was in his way. Wanting Devin was nowhere in the plan.

  He sucked in a breath, lifting her laptop, drawing away. Wanting Devin? No way. Not going there. Not ever.

  Devin followed on Lucas’s heels as he carried her laptop along the wide hallway on the main floor of the mansion. Her shoulder and thigh still buzzed from their contact. Was that really the first time he’d touched her? Ever?

  She searched her brain, but she couldn’t remember another occasion. And apparently, the experience would have been seared into her spinal column.

  “You can use this one as an office,” he was saying as they neared the front foyer. He opened a door off the hall, revealing a small library.

  He hit the light switch, and a desk lamp came on, bathing the room in a soft glow.

  The library’s walls were lined with ornate wooden shelves and what looked like an eclectic selection of books. There was a rosewood desk, a patterned area rug and two cream-colored wingback chairs with ottomans that complemented a compact leather chair positioned behind the desk. The room was surprisingly feminine, with touches of pattern china and figurines placed beside the books, and the occasional watercolor seascape recessed into the shelves.

  “My mother used to like this room,” said Lucas.

  “Are you sure you want me to use it?” She’d been complaining about her deadline to make a point, and to have an excuse to go to bed. She hadn’t intended for Lucas to try to solve her problem.


  “Yes. Of course.” He set her laptop on the desk and turned to face her where she stood a few steps into the room. “You need somewhere quiet to concentrate.”

  “Once Amelia is asleep—”

  He leaned back against the desk, bracing his hands on either side. “You said you had a deadline.”

  “I do.”

  “Then you’ll let the nanny monitor Amelia, and you will—”

  “Are you trying to keep me away from Amelia?”

  His brows went up in obvious shock. “No,” he answered simply.

  She was inclined to believe him, and she felt her guard go down a notch.

  “Then, what are you doing?” she asked. Why did he care about her deadline?

  “I’m offering you a place to work.”

  She studied his expression, the tight mouth, cool slate eyes, dark imposing brow. “You’re being nice to me,” she accused. “So?”

  “So, it’s out of character. So, I’m trying to figure out what you’re up to.”

  “I’m not a monster, Devin.”

  The sound of her name made her chest go tight. “But you are rather cold-blooded.”

  Silence followed her words.

  Then he straightened away from the desk. He took a step toward her, then another, and another. A glow of awareness crept into his eyes. “Devin,” he whispered. “At the moment, I am not feeling even remotely cold-blooded.”

  She tipped her chin to look at him. For the life of her, she couldn’t come up with a retort.

  He smelled fresh as a sea breeze. His skin was shaved close, his hair neatly trimmed and his gray eyes flecked with silver. His softened lips captured her undivided attention.

  “What are you doing?” she managed to rasp. She ordered her legs to move, to leave, to flee, but they didn’t obey.

  “I wish I knew.”

  His index finger touched the bottom of her chin. His breath puffed, soft and sweet, as his head tilted sideways.

  “We can’t,” she murmured.

  There was absolutely no doubting his intentions. But she found herself subconsciously stretching up. Her skin flushed hot. Her eyes fluttered closed. Then his lips brushed hers.

  His arm snaked around the small of her back, tugging her to him, pulling her flat against his chest.

  He swooped down and kissed her deeply. Her body instantly responded. Her arms wound around his neck. Her head tipped sideways. Her lips parted, tongue tangling.