by Thea Dawson
“I haven’t,” Bryce muttered as he hung up.
He settled back into the chair and closed his eyes. He was the boss, and if he wanted to spend his lunchtime napping, why shouldn’t he?
He was just relaxing into a warm, comfortable sleep when he was snapped back to consciousness by the sound of the baby crying. He groaned.
Who was he kidding—he wasn’t really the boss, not anymore.
5
When Rachel got back to the office, Bryce was stretched out on the leather couch in the reception area, sound asleep. Nora was strapped to his chest in a baby sling, snoring contentedly.
Rachel stood in the doorway for a moment, her hand over her mouth to suppress a squeal of delight. Cute overwhelm! Quietly, she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She snapped a photo, thinking it was a shame she couldn’t share it on social media, then closed the door softly behind her.
Despite her efforts to be quiet as she tiptoed behind her desk, Bryce’s eyes were open by the time she sat down.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’fine,” he mumbled. “She’s sometimes less fussy when I lie down with her.” He looked up at the ceiling with bleary eyes. “You might not believe this, but once, I was a highly regarded lawyer with a very successful practice serving some of the wealthiest clients in town.” He sighed. “These days, I’m a zombie.”
Rachel grimaced sympathetically. “It’ll get better. I got a book out of the library, and it said she should start sleeping through the night in the next month or so, as long as we keep her on a regular feeding and nap schedule.”
He gave her a sharp look, the bleariness gone. “She’ll be someone else’s problem by then.”
Rachel tried not to flinch at the coldness in his voice. “Oh, right. Of course.”
She pretended to be engrossed in something on her computer screen, but a spark of anger flared inside her chest.
Nora wasn’t a “problem.”
Movement drew her eye back to the couch. Bryce was very slowly sitting up, trying not to disturb the still-sleeping Nora. Rachel pressed her lips together. How could he be so tender with her when he held her yet so dead-set on getting rid of her?
Finally, he made it to a sitting position and looked up, catching her eye.
“I wanted to ask you, are you free tomorrow night?” he asked.
A cocktail of panic and excitement exploded in her chest before she could reign in her emotions. Was he asking her out?
She groped for a sophisticated and articulate response, but all that came out was, “Uh …”
He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m still half asleep. I’m supposed to go into the city tomorrow evening to meet some friends for dinner. Is there any chance you’d be available to babysit? I know it’s not part of your regular duties, and I won’t hold it against you if you say no, but I’ll pay you what you make per hour here. I’d need you from about six to maybe midnight.”
“Oh.” The fizzy panic drained away, leaving relief and disappointment in its wake. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Sure. We get along pretty well, me and Nora. We’re BFFs.” She managed a laugh.
She thought a flicker of amusement might have crossed his tired face. “Thank you. I’ll text you my address.”
“I have it. I mean, it’s on all the forms and stuff you’ve been going over with Chuck,” she added quickly, not wanting him to think she was a stalker.
He smiled. He was so good-looking when he smiled. It was too bad he didn’t smile more often.
“Rachel, if I haven’t said it already, thank you. You’ve been a godsend this past week. I would have had to call in sick and cancel all my clients without you.”
She cocked her head at him. “Why not just tell them about Nora? People understand about babies.”
He shook his head, the smile fading. “I deal with incredibly sensitive client information. My clients need to be able to trust that I’m stable and reliable and completely ethical. If they think I’m the kind of guy who gets some girl he barely knows pregnant, then leaves her … it just doesn’t look good.”
“But you didn’t know about Nora, right? Until after she was born? I mean, if her mother didn’t tell you, it’s not your fault if you didn’t know about her.”
He shook his head. “The optics are still bad. If it looks like I don’t have my own life under control, well, that’s a problem.”
The spark of anger that had been glowing in Rachel’s chest earlier twisted itself into something tight that made her want to cry. Optics, issues, problems … Nora was a baby, for crying out loud. A little person.
As if in agreement, Nora snorted and stirred against Bryce’s chest.
“Looks like she’s waking up,” Rachel murmured. “You want me to take her for a while?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I have some calls I need to make.” He rose, careful not to jostle Nora any more than necessary, and crossed the room. He gently extracted her from her carrier and leaned down to place her in Rachel’s waiting arms.
“Hey, would you mind warming up a bottle for me before you make your calls?” she asked.
“Sure. And, Rachel, again, thank you for everything.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
She gave him a tight smile as he turned toward the miniature kitchenette. When he was out of earshot, she brought her mouth to the sleepy baby’s ear.
“Your daddy’s really proud of you, Nora,” she whispered. “He might not know it yet, but he is.”
Rachel met Holly and Savannah at Blue Oasis, one of the upscale bars in downtown Haven Bay. There were hugs and squeals all around.
Savannah had toned down her corporate dominatrix look with skinny jeans. But in her high-heeled black boots, black leather coat, and bright red hair, she still stood out in the crowd of preppy young professionals.
Holly, on the other hand, fit right in. She wore a brown suede mini-skirt with a cream-colored cashmere turtleneck and tall, chocolate-colored boots. She hadn’t been slim in high school, and still wasn’t, but she’d learned to dress for her curves. Her soft makeup and styled hair suited her sweet, heart-shaped face.
“You look beautiful!” Rachel held her at arm’s length to study her. She glanced at Savannah. “You both do! Oh my God, we have so much catching up to do! Let’s grab some drinks. Then I want to hear everything you’re up to.”
Seats were taken, drinks were ordered, and catching up commenced.
“I’m a screenwriter,” Holly explained when they sat down. She’d worked in Los Angeles for a few years, writing for a television drama. Now she was writing for a sitcom that was being shot in New York and was shopping a couple of screenplays around to movie studios.
“But this is my big news!” She proudly showed off her large diamond engagement ring. Rachel made admiring noises while pretending not to notice Savannah. Just out of Holly’s line of sight, she was rolling her eyes and curling her lips in disgust.
“His name’s Steve,” Holly gushed. “Unfortunately, he’s got a work thing going on, otherwise, I would have brought him. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
The look on Savannah’s face suggested that fake-vomiting was imminent, so Rachel hastily changed the subject.
“I’m so happy for you, Holly! Congratulations. How’s your mom doing? Has she pulled any crazy stunts lately?”
Holly’s mother, Sophie Cavanaugh, was a real-life celebrity, a former stand-up comic who’d graduated to television and movie roles, and now had her own talk show. Her flamboyant personality was diametrically opposed to Holly’s shy, retiring one. Rachel had spent many hours in middle school and high school listening to Holly complain about her mother.
Holly’s brow crinkled. “Actually, she’s been a little subdued,” she replied. “Makes me nervous. I think she’s gearing up for something big.”
“Bigger than the time she threw a school-wide surprise party for your birthday?” Rachel asked with a grin.
Holly drop
ped her face into her hands with a groan. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. Like middle school isn’t horrible enough without your mother trying to buy you popularity,” she muttered.
“This was your 14th birthday when you all were at Haven Bay Academy, right?” Savannah had been at the public school at the time; she hadn’t met Rachel and Holly until they’d been in the same homeroom class in high school.
Holly nodded. “She bribed the administration with a donation, got the entire school let out an hour early, and threw a huge party on the lawn, clowns, cupcakes, games, the whole nine yards. And of course, she shook hands and signed autographs. I almost died of embarrassment.”
“Don’t knock it, those cupcakes were amazing.” Rachel refrained from reminding Holly that the stunt had, in a way, worked. Holly had never attained true cool-girl status, but she’d gained some social clout as a result of her famous mother’s interference, and middle school had been marginally less miserable for her afterward.
“And I missed it!” Savannah chimed in with a pout. “She never did anything like that when we were all in high school.”
Holly gave her a sidelong glare. “That’s because I told her I’d run away and live with my dad if she ever pulled something like that again. People still tease me about it,” she added.
Savannah frowned. “Like who?”
“Like Mrs. Patterson, the school librarian. Remember her?” she asked Rachel. “I ran into her downtown a few weeks ago, and she was all, Oh, you have the most wonderful mother! Remember that party …” Holly’s tone suggested a difference of opinion with Mrs. Patterson.
Savannah snorted. “That’s not teasing! That’s reminding. Totally different.”
“Whatever. The net result is that as soon as people find out I’m Sophie Cavanaugh’s daughter, they think I’m a spoiled celebrity brat.”
“Your mom’s not that bad. Remember the time she caught us drinking that wine?” Rachel reminded her. “She was actually pretty cool about it, all things considered.”
Savannah laughed, and even Holly’s lips twitched.
“‘Girls—” Savannah began.
“‘That was a $200 bottle of wine!’” they all finished together before bursting into laughter.
Sophie had caught them, red-faced, red-handed, and giggling hysterically after they’d snitched a bottle of wine from Sophie’s cellar and split it between the three of them one Friday after school.
“We stole her wine and got drunk when we were in eleventh grade, and all she did was take Sav’s keys away and insist we sleep over.” Rachel shook her head, remembering. “She didn’t even tell our parents. Sorry, Hol. She’s cool in my book.”
“She does get points for that one,” Savannah added apologetically. “My mama would have freaked.”
Holly snorted, exasperated at her friends’ lack of support. “Okay, enough about my crazy mom. Rachel, I hear you’re working for some sexy single-dad lawyer?”
Rachel glared at Savannah, who winced. “Sorry, by the time you told me it was a secret, I’d already mentioned it to Holly. But she won’t tell anyone, will you, Hol?”
Holly’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Sexy, single-dad, or lawyer—which part of that is secret?”
Rachel bit her lip. “Um, the dad part, I guess.”
“Why exactly is that a secret?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “That’s the secret. Look, I’m not allowed to talk about the dad part, and the lawyer part isn’t all that interesting. But I can talk about the sexy part.”
“Oh, ho.” Holly looked temporarily appeased. “You’ve got the hots for your boss?”
Rachel snorted. “Yeah. Savannah’s met him. You’ll vouch for me, won’t you, Sav?”
Sav took a sip of her drink and nodded. “Kind of a jerk, but hot as hell.”
“Jerk how?” Holly looked intrigued.
Savannah sniffed. “Typical rich-guy lawyer. Kind of a snob. If your net worth is anything less than five million, don’t bother. That kind of guy.”
Rachel was stung by Savannah’s assessment. “Oh, he’s not like that! He’s just kind of got his hands full at the moment. I think he’s a little overwhelmed, what with—” she paused, “—those things I can’t talk about,” she finished.
“He’s a snob,” Savannah assured Holly, then she glanced playfully back at Rachel, “but he is very good looking. Is that why you’re defending him?”
Rachel laughed. “He’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. And I like him. He’s a bit gruff, but he’s a decent guy.”
“Oooh.” Holly’s eyes gleamed with interest. “A hot, snobby, gruff lawyer. Sounds like a Jane Austen novel. How long are you going to be working for him?”
Rachel shrugged again. “I guess until he can hire someone permanent. Probably a month or two.”
“You going to apply for the permanent job?”
Rachel studied her cocktail. She enjoyed the fluttery way she felt around Bryce, and she was confident she could handle the filing and the billing and the calls. But if she was honest, the best part of her day was getting out and walking around with Nora. She didn’t love being cooped up in a small office with only one other co-worker—two if you counted Nora, but neither of them were great conversationalists. She liked to be on the move, meeting new people, doing different things every day. The job was fine for now, but once Nora was gone, she had a feeling, things would get pretty dull.
“… No,” she finally said. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do next. Keep temping maybe, until I figure it out.”
“Fair enough.” Holly lifted her glass for a toast. “To the three amigas. May we get what we want—” She waited for the other two to chime in.
“—and not what we deserve!” they finished together.
6
If Bryce had met Alyssa two weeks earlier, he might have been as smitten with her as Cathy had promised. She was slim and sophisticated, with flawless skin, perfectly styled honey-colored hair that fell just past her shoulders, a bright smile, and a quick wit. As the vice president of communications at a museum in Manhattan, she was clearly intelligent and ambitious; moreover, she was warm and friendly.
She was everything he looked for in a woman … so why was he having such a hard time paying attention to her?
Under the table at the expensive cocktail bar where they’d decided to end the evening, Bryce fiddled with the phone in his pants pocket. He’d managed to send Rachel a quick text from the men’s room at the restaurant they’d left an hour ago. She’d replied with a string of colorful emojis, along with a note that everything was fine and to have fun.
An hour later, the urge to check in again and make sure everything was all right was almost overwhelming. He might not have any interest in being a father, but as long as the baby was in his care, he was anxious to do the right thing, and he was starting to think that abandoning her to go out with friends didn’t fall into the “responsible parent” category.
Or maybe it was more that he didn’t truly feel he deserved a night out. Over the past two weeks, an undercurrent of guilt had infected everything he’d done—guilt that he had abandoned Nora’s mother, albeit without meaning to, guilt that he hadn’t even known about the baby until her mother was dead, and guilt that now that he did know, he sort of wished he didn’t.
Now he felt guilty that he’d left the baby with Rachel, his long-suffering assistant, who should be out doing something fun and carefree on her Saturday night, not babysitting for his mistakes.
It would have been rude to text Rachel at the table, but he couldn’t very well explain that he was checking with his babysitter, and it would look odd if he kept running to the men’s room. So he sat there, occasionally taking a sip of his $20 custom-made cocktail and trying to focus on the conversation.
Alyssa said something witty, Chuck and Cathy laughed, and Bryce joined in belatedly, his sleep-deprived brain lagging behind the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cathy looking at him. She was still smili
ng, but her eyes were concerned; his lack of enthusiasm was not going unnoticed.
Alyssa’s expression, as well, was gradually dimming from warm to merely polite.
He surrendered. “I’m sorry, you guys,” he announced to the table. “I’m going to have to head home. I think I’m coming down with something, and I don’t want any of you catching it.”
The lie elicited immediate murmurs of sympathy. He insisted on paying for Alyssa’s drinks, promised Chuck he’d be in touch soon, and wished them all a good evening. It wasn’t until he was outside and walking briskly toward the parking garage where he’d left his BMW that he realized he’d forgotten to ask Alyssa for her number.
Forty-five minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot in front of his condo, praying he’d come home to a sleeping baby.
The condominium complex he lived in was made up of multiple buildings separated by carefully landscaped walkways and overlooking the bay for which Haven Bay had been named. He’d never thought of his condo as a home so much as an investment and a status symbol, the perfect residence for a successful single man. Even after a week of living with Nora, it still boggled his mind that there was a baby waiting for him inside.
He opened the back door as quietly as he could and tiptoed through the kitchen into the living room.
Rachel was curled up in an expensive armchair, reading a book. She glanced up when he walked in, and her face brightened. She looked so happy to see him that he almost stopped in his tracks.
He was generally drawn to women like Alyssa—sophisticated, ambitious, high-maintenance women with serious careers. Rachel, with her bubbly personality, lack of boundaries, and itinerant resume, wasn’t really his type, either as a girlfriend or an employee.
But there was something undeniably appealing about her enthusiasm for everything, and he kind of respected the way she talked back to him. He had the odd thought that if he’d met her in a bar, he might at least have offered to buy her a drink.
