Jeannie awoke a little before eleven in the morning. There was no surprise. No disorientation. Waking up in Hunter's arms seemed as right and natural as breathing. His dark hair brushed his forehead and she smoothed it back with a gentle hand. He looked younger in sleep, as if she were glimpsing the boy he once was. His strong jaw seemed less stubborn; the sensual line of his mouth begged for the touch of her lips.
There was something terribly intimate in watching a man sleep, even if that man was her husband. Men prided themselves on control both real and imagined. Asleep a man was as vulnerable as a child. She had a quick memory of another wedding, of youthful dreams, but she pushed them away.
This was a different time and place--and she was a vastly different woman from the wide-eyed girl she'd once been.
The dreams, however, were still the same.
Out of nowhere had come this second chance--an opportunity to recover the happiness she'd thought gone forever.
Hunter had a handful of days off--a special gift from Grantham and the other bigwigs at CN&S--and they'd planned to enjoy the Plaza Hotel and the environs. But Jeannie had other ideas.
"Hunter." She nudged his shoulder.
"Mmmph?" He opened one sleepy hazel-green eye then grinned. "So I didn't dream last night."
"You didn't dream last night."
He reached for her left hand and brought it to his lips. The gold wedding band was warm from her skin. "Jeannie Phillips," he said. "I like the sound."
"So do I."
He glanced toward the small clock on the nightstand. "We slept through breakfast."
"So we did."
He pulled her down across his body and gave her a playful swat on the rump. "You don't sound repentant."
"I'm not."
"Here we are in one of the best suites in the Plaza Hotel and we're sleeping away the time."
"We didn't just sleep, Hunter," she pointed out.
"Order us some breakfast," he said, tossing off the covers. "I'll grab a shower and after we eat we can play tourists."
Jeannie touched his arm. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"There's some place you want to go?"
"Absolutely."
"Name it, Mrs. Phillips. Your wish is my command."
"Home," she said.
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm not. I can't think of anything I'd rather do than claim Daisy and go home."
"Now there's something we need to talk about." He looked at her. "Where's home going to be?"
Jeannie stared at him. "I haven't thought about it."
"Me neither, but it seems like it's time."
"There's always my place," she ventured. "It's comfortable and roomy." She hesitated. "The only thing is, my landlord will be back in February so my place is a temporary thing."
"Then there isn't much of a choice, is there? We'll live in my place."
"But I've never even seen your place." She could just imagine Hunter's apartment: the typical bachelor lair with a baby crib and playpen added for good measure. "Black furniture, grey rugs, and a lot of chrome?"
"Bingo," said Hunter.
Jeannie sighed and fell back against the pillows.
Laughing, he leaned over her. "Two bedrooms," he said.
Jeannie perked up the slightest bit.
"Eat-in kitchen."
"I'm beginning to like the sound of it."
"And we can re-decorate."
She threw her arms around his neck. "Come on," she said, leaping from the bed. "Let's get Daisy and go shopping."
Hunter had never met a woman quite like the woman he'd taken to wife.
"Bloomingdale's?" she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Too trendy."
Macy's was too slow to deliver. Specialty stores were too expensive.
"So where are we going to shop?" he asked as they walked to Kate's place to fetch their daughter. "New Jersey?"
"That's right," said Jeannie.
Hunter groaned. "Somehow I never expected to spend our honeymoon in New Jersey."
"I hung onto my car when I moved here last year. We'll be at the store before you know it."
"Are you one of those women who were born to shop?"
She laughed and linked her arm through his. "Only when there's a reason to shop."
"Because it's Friday?"
"No," she said, poking him in the side. "Because we need to set up housekeeping as a family."
The furniture salesman hovered about like a hawk over its unsuspecting prey. Hunter and Jeannie and Daisy had logged more miles in that New Jersey warehouse than a trio of Olympic hopefuls.
"I don't know," Jeannie said, considering a huge leather chair with interest. "I think you should ask my husband."
Hunter had to grin at those words. Two days ago he'd been a single man. Today he was part of a family.
Imagine that.
"Sir?" The salesman turned toward Hunter. "Perhaps you should give the chair a try."
"Looks great," he said. His butt had been in so many chairs and sofas that afternoon that he was sure he'd need a rubber donut before the day was through.
"Bob is right," Jeannie said, switching Daisy to her left shoulder. "This will be your chair. You really should sit in it."
He did. "This is great," he said, putting his feet up on the matching ottoman. "I feel like Robert Young in Father Knows Best."
Jeannie gave him a skeptical look.
"I'm not kidding," he said. "All I need is a beagle to bring me my slippers."
"You've been in advertising too long," Jeannie said, laughing out loud. "You sound like a commercial."
Bob, the salesman, looked bewildered.
"We'll take it," said Hunter. "And that big sofa over there." Nightstands. Dressing table. Solid oak kitchen set with a matching highchair for Daisy.
"We spent a fortune in there," Jeannie said as he drove her car back to Manhattan.
"Cheaper than Bloomingdale's," he said blithely, casting her a quick look. "Isn't that what you said?"
"I didn't say we should buy the entire store, Hunter! We went crazy."
"You only get married once, right?"
A sharp stab of guilt pierced Jeannie's heart. She busied herself with rummaging through her pocketbook for Daisy's ring of plastic keys.
"We have a lot of things to talk about," he continued as they exited the George Washington Bridge.
She swallowed hard. "Such as?"
"Money, for one. I make a lot." He quoted her a number. "If the Christmas bonus is up to par, it could be even more."
She was silent for a moment. "My income isn't quite as impressive, but it's not bad." She quoted him a number.
"How do you feel about joint checking and savings?"
"Fine," she said. She'd always believed in the fifty-fifty concept of marriage. "How do you feel about scrubbing bathrooms?"
"We've invented self-cleaning ovens. Why not self-changing toilets."
"But until then?"
"Fifty-fifty," he said. "In everything."
She looked at her husband and a big grin spread across her face. "I may have been impulsive," she said, "but I certainly was smart."
As far as Hunter was concerned, the best part of living in New York was getting out of it.
"I can't believe you haven't driven out to Long Island," he said to Jeannie as he drove across the city line into Nassau County on the last day of their honeymoon. "Everyone checks out the Hamptons at least once."
"Not me," said his wife. "I have a built-in aversion to trendiness."
"Jones Beach isn't trendy," he said, thinking about the enormous stretch of beaches most New Yorkers loved. "You won't see a bottle of Evian water for miles."
"Good," said Jeannie. "Water should come from the tap, not the gourmet section of the grocery store."
"You're opinionated," Hunter said. "I like that in a woman."
"Of course you do," said Jeannie. "That and breasts the size of honeydew melons."
"Ar
e you ever going to forget Marcy?" he asked, shaking his head in bemusement.
"A woman never forgets the moment she met her husband. If Daisy hadn't wet her diaper, we wouldn't be sitting here now. You'd probably be off in the Hamptons with Marcy or some other blond bombshell and I'd--"
"No." He turned away from the road for an instant and met her eyes. "I would have found you, Jeannie. Don't ever doubt that."
"It's a big world," she said lightly, obviously pleased. "Happiness can be easy to miss. Sometimes you have to almost lose it before you know it's even there."
Maybe on another day, in a different mood, he might have followed up on that statement, but not today.
"This is the life," he said, veering sharply away from tricky emotional territory. "Clear skies, bright sunshine, a full tank of gas--it doesn't get much better than this."
She hit him over the head with the folded road map that had rested on her lap. "You're quite the romantic," she said dryly. "If you start singing the praises of a five-speed transmission, I'll get off at the next corner."
He eyeballed the odometer. "You've put over one hundred thousand miles on this baby in less than five years. Where'd you take it?"
"I told you I've worked just about everywhere in this country."
"What about since you've been in New York?"
"The Catskills. The Adirondacks." she said. "Over to the Berkshires." She grinned. "The Poconos."
He started to laugh. "The Poconos? Heart-shaped tubs and waterbeds?"
"There's more to the Poconos than honeymoon havens," she said primly. "There's fresh air and lakes and open space. It's a wonderful place to raise a family."
He caught a glimpse of Daisy in the back seat. Today she wore a sailor's outfit complete with hat and it seemed to him that she was growing bigger before his eyes. Where they lived wasn't important to Daisy now, but the time would come when he would have to give serious thought to things like schools and play groups and all the other things that went hand-in-hand with raising kids in the 90s. Sometimes it seemed as if every part of his life--from where he lived right down to how he dressed--had been affected by Daisy's arrival.
If someone had told him this time last year that he'd be married and raising a kid before the next twelve months were over, he would have laughed in their faces.
If they'd told him he'd spend a lazy Sunday afternoon at Jones Beach with a plastic pail and shovel, he would have suggested therapy.
And if they'd told him he'd actually be having a good time--well, truth really was stranger than fiction.
Jones Beach State Park was a huge, sprawling selection of individual beaches that curved along the south shore of Long Island. There were fishing beaches, Zach's Bay with its amphitheater, and an old-fashioned expanse of boardwalk second to none.
Finding a parking spot was problematic and he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally angled into a spot near the back of one of the numbered lots.
"Looks like everyone in New York had the same idea," he said as they took their gear from the trunk.
"It's a gorgeous spring day," Jeannie said, slipping on her dark glasses and reaching for the cooler. "Who wouldn't want to enjoy the outdoors?"
"I don't think George Washington had so many supplies at Valley Forge."Hunter shifted Daisy to his other shoulder as he yanked out the beach umbrella and the rest of the paraphernalia. "Did we really need all this junk?"
"Of course we did," said Jeannie. "The amount of equipment is in inverse proportion to the size of the child. It's a law of nature."
"If that's the case, we'll need an eighteen-wheeler before Daisy's tenth birthday."
"Grump," she said, as they made their way through the parking lot. "Just wait until you see Daisy's face when she sees the beach."
"Do you think she'll like it?"
"She'll love it."
"How do you know?"
"She likes bath time, doesn't she?"
Hunter shot Jeannie a look of pure disbelief. "A bathtub is one thing," he said. "The Atlantic Ocean is something else." Suddenly Daisy seemed a lot smaller to him than she had a few minutes earlier. "I'm acting like a jerk, aren't I? The beach is no big deal."
She rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "You're acting like you care. I think that makes you pretty terrific."
He liked the gesture even if he wasn't entirely comfortable with her observation.
And she noticed.
"You amaze me, Hunter," she said. "CN&S's rising star can't take a compliment."
"Words are cheap," he said, a grin curving his mouth. "Actions are better."
"Patience," she said. He could almost see her eyes twinkling through her dark glasses. "The day is young."
"You were right," said Hunter an hour later. "She loves it."
"I told you so," said Jeannie. "Daisy is very adaptable."
He looked at the little girl sitting between his knees on the wet sand. "This kid has more guts than any two men I know."
"And why not," Jeannie said. "She's a Phillips, isn't she?"
"I thought she was going to break away from me and swim across the Atlantic," he said, laughing. "It was like seeing my sister all over again."
Once again Jeannie seemed to understand his mood before he did. "Get up, lazybones," she said, scrambling to her feet. "Let's jump the waves."
"With Daisy?"
"Tiny waves," Jeannie said. "We'll only go in up to our ankles."
He and Jeannie each held one of Daisy's hands and the baby squealed with delight each time they lifted her into the air as the waves foamed around their ankles and calves. "Oh, will you look at that adorable little girl!" A woman, hugely pregnant, stopped in her tracks. "How old is she?"
"Almost nine months," said Jeannie.
The woman leaned into Daisy and touched her cheek. "You beautiful little thing. You look just like your mommy and daddy."
"We appreciate the compliment," said Jeannie, who knew the drill, "but she's not--"
"Thanks," said Hunter, with a nod of his head. "We think she's pretty terrific, too."
They called out for pizza that night. Pepperoni for Hunter. Mushroom for Jeannie. Daisy had lamb and vegetables. Hunter looked at her dinner with dismay.
"Hurry up with those teeth, Daise," he said as Jeannie put the spoon to the baby's mouth. "You're going to love pizza."
"She will if she's her daddy's girl," Jeannie said.
There it was again. He started to say what he always said, that he loved Daisy with all his heart but that he wasn't her father and it was better for everyone to keep that one very important fact in mind. But for the second time that day, the words didn't come.
Everyone had told him that parenthood was more than a question of biology, that it was the small things--the feedings and the dirty diapers and the things that went bump in the night--that made you a parent.
For months he'd felt as if he were rushing headlong toward disaster. His social life had been shot to hell. His career was headed for the dumper.
And when it came to Daisy, he'd stumbled along through the dark, praying the mistakes he made wouldn't haunt Daisy twenty years later.
How many times in the past eight months had he sat here at this kitchen table, eating pizza while he fed Daisy. The routine was as familiar to him as his telephone number.
But tonight everything seemed different.
Jeannie's laughter seemed to fill the empty places in the room--and maybe one or two of the empty places inside his heart.
He pushed back his chair and stood up. "Come on, kiddo," he said gruffly, lifting Daisy from her high chair. "Bath time."
"Hunter." Jeannie's voice was soft, slightly puzzled. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
He stood in the doorway, frowning. "Water, soap, baby--"
"Me."
"I have other plans for you."
She stood up and walked over to him and Daisy. "It's a package deal, Hunter," she said, hugging them both. "First Daisy's bath and then...." She wiggled her
eyebrows mischievously.
"A shower," he said, meeting her eyes. "A long, hot shower."
"And then--?"
"Easy, Mrs. Phillips." He kissed her hard, to Daisy's delight. "A longer and hotter night."
Chapter 8
"So what are you and Daisy going to do today?" Hunter asked as he knotted his tie in front of the hall mirror.
Jeannie reached up to smooth his shirt collar. It was Monday morning and real life was upon them once again. "After Daisy wakes up, I think we'll walk over to my apartment and pack up my things."
He gestured toward the desk. "I have the number of a moving company in there some place. You might want to give them a call."
"Don't need one," she said as he turned away from the mirror and drew her into his arms. "I could fit most of my things in two shopping bags."
He pulled back and looked at her. "Two shopping bags?"
"Maybe three. I travel light."
He chuckled then tilted her face up for a kiss. "I hate to leave."
She kissed him back. "I'm going to miss you."
"If you kiss me again like that I might stay home."
"Great," she said, laughing. "Then you can wait for the furniture delivery men this afternoon."
She was still laughing as the door closed behind him. Daisy woke up, a little cranky from the budding tooth. Once the baby was cleaned and dressed, Jeannie popped her into the old high chair.
Sunshine streamed through the casement windows--a miracle in New York City. She tuned the radio to an oldies station that had her singing along in seconds. Daisy gobbled up every last bit of her cereal then burped obligingly.
Just a few weeks ago, the thought of her Hawaiian assignment had her eagerly marking the days on her calendar. Now she couldn't imagine anything more wonderful--or satisfying--than living the life of wife and mother.
She supposed it was out of fashion to admit to such feelings, but she'd always found enormous satisfaction in caring for her family. Her talents were domestic, as were her greatest joys, and she considered herself lucky beyond measure to have a brand new family to love.
"Look at you," said Kate twenty minutes later as she followed Jeannie and the baby into Jeannie's old apartment. "You look so happy it's disgusting."
Daddy's Girl (Bachelor Fathers) Page 11
