by Tasha Fawkes
I glanced at the four plastic bottles, an assortment of nipples and screw caps, and gathered them carefully in my arms, trying not to make any more noise than I had to as I carried the bottles and can of formula into the kitchen. The kitchen opened on three sides and at its north end, boasted a roomy dining area with a large bay window that overlooked the lanai and the pool beyond.
I placed the milk items on the center island marble counter, read the instructions again, and then fixed a couple of bottles. Out of curiosity, I tasted the formula and gagged. Obviously, Kelli had decided not to breastfeed. Kelli would do nothing that would endanger her looks, and leaking, milk-plump breasts would not be her idea of attractive. Then again, she'd gone through a pregnancy, and that would've caused quite a few changes in her body.
I remembered Kelli's svelte figure, her toned, flat stomach and medium-sized breasts. She’d never gotten breast implants like a lot of her peers did, and I asked her why one time. Her answer? She wanted to be the real thing. She didn't want boobs that looked like melons, but she did admit that if the time ever came where gravity changed her profile, she might consider augmentation.
The gurgle of a waking baby broke the silence and froze me inside and out. Was that a cry for attention? I put the milk back down on the counter and stepped into the foyer. Two little white fists swung back and forth over the top of the basket. My heart once again pounding, stomach in a tight knot, I peered into the basket, startled when a pair of huge blue eyes blinked back up at me, the little pink mouth opening in surprise.
He did look like me.
I smiled, and then the expression on the baby's face altered. First a wrinkled brow, the eyes filling with tears, and then the mouth opening and pulling into a frown.
Alarmed, I spoke softly to the baby, “Everything will be all right.”
But he obviously didn’t get it, because a high-pitched wail erupted from his lips before he took a long breath and screeched, shattering my eardrums.
At that moment, I mentally cursed Kelli as I'd never cursed any woman in my life. How dare she do this to me! What came out of my mouth was a soft, comforting sound as I reached for the baby. I lifted him, along with his blanket, awkwardly into my arms and gently bounced the both of us. The caterwauling didn't stop, and in fact seemed to reach a fever pitch, his face turning red.
Okay, so he doesn't like that.
I stood still and adjusted him so that I was cradling him in one arm, plucking the blanket away from near his face. His little fingers latched onto my pinky, and before I knew it, the little guy was suckling on the tip of my finger.
Hungry. The kid was hungry.
I quickly headed into the kitchen, grabbed one of the bottles of milk, and gave it a shake. I tipped it so the baby could drink, but he made a face and squalled again, a drop of milk balanced precariously on his chin. I brushed it off and then realized it was cool. Didn’t babies like warm milk?
Taking a deep breath and trying to knock back the panic rising in my chest, I ran for the microwave, and skidded to a halt. Some of my friends refused to have microwaves, didn’t have them in their homes because they swore they were unhealthy, harmful even. I couldn’t subject this newly created life to a barrage of invisible microwaves. I would have to manually heat the damn milk.
I prided myself on being an incredibly intelligent, creative, and well-organized individual, but the process of cradling a baby in one arm, finding a pan, unscrewing the bottle of milk I’d just made and dumping it into the pan, and then turning on the burner to allow the milk to heat slowly was quite a challenge for me. Especially since I didn't really know what I was doing. I kept dipping my pinky finger into the milk, trying to test it for temperature. When it tested barely lukewarm, I figured that was enough. Still balancing the baby in one arm, the empty bottle near the stovetop, I poured the milk into the bottle. If it was too hot, the bottle would crack. It didn't.
I finagled the nipple onto the top of the bottle, then grabbed it. Barely warm. Tentatively, I put the nipple in my mouth and allowed a few drops of the god-awful tasting formula to drip onto my tongue as I grimaced. Not too hot. Carefully, I lowered the bottle and rubbed the nipple on the baby's bottom lip and he immediately latched onto it. His eyes widened, hands reaching for the bottle over mine, and he began to drink greedily, making loud sucking noises and little grunting sounds in his throat as he swallowed.
Adorable.
My heart was racing now, and I moved into the study and sat down on the couch. By that time, the little guy had sucked down nearly half the bottle.
Then my phone rang. I looked at the desk, back at the baby, and grunting with annoyance, quickly stood, reached for the phone and then sat back down on the couch. My teeth gritted together when I saw the display. Kelli.
I hit the answer icon and held the phone between my ear and shoulder on the same side I was holding the baby, needing to balance the bottle with my other hand.
“Joel?" I'd never forget her voice, kind of raspy, but not in a hoarse way. Sexier.
"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed, proud of myself for not raising my voice to the level I wanted. Not shouting. I didn’t want to scare the baby. Anger flushed my face with heat, the hand holding the bottle starting to shake again.
"I—I'm sorry for the way I handled things," she stammered. "Especially considering our history, but I figured that giving you a little bit of time with him on your own might be the best way for you to process it."
"Process it," I repeated, shaking my head.
"Joel, I discovered a few weeks after our break-up that I was pregnant."
"How do I know it's mine?"
“I haven't been with anyone since you. He’s definitely yours.” Were those tears in her voice? I hardened my heart toward the emotion in her tone. My confrontation with her former lover had been just before the last time I saw her, when I told her to pack her bags and get out. I didn't even want to get into it.
“Why aren't you taking care of this baby? Why leave him on my doorstep?”
"Joel, don't worry. I've arranged for a nanny to come by. She should be there early tomorrow morning. I know that you don't know anything about babies, and to be honest, I didn't either, but it’s not hard to learn and this nanny is fantastic. She's trustworthy and she's helped me out with Ethan numerous times over the past few months."
"Where are you?" I demanded, striving and failing to keep my voice calm. "Would you mind telling me what's going on?"
"I'm on a photoshoot, Joel, up in San Francisco. I'll be gone for a few days and I thought… I thought that maybe now was a good time for you to get to know your son."
My son. I glanced down at the baby, eyes half closed now, belly bulging, the bottle of milk just about gone. My son?
"Kelli, I don't have anything… no supplies, no furniture, no nothing to accommodate a baby. And why couldn't you give me a heads-up? Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant? Instead, you dump the kid on my doorstep. Do I look like a fire station to you?"
A muffled squeaking sound came over the phone, like Kelli was weeping. Or laughing. It was hard to tell.
"Joel, I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to feel obligated—"
"And now? Leaving a baby on my doorstep isn't an obligation? What were you thinking?"
"What I'm thinking is that I want my son to get to know his father," Kelli said softly. "And I was hoping that, maybe, when I get back into town, you and I can have a little talk. Maybe patch things up? A baby needs his father, you know."
I wasn't sure if that was a dig or not, with her knowing my personal history with my own dad. I scowled. "Kelli, I don't think this is a good idea—"
"I've got to go, Joel, the photographer’s calling me. I'll see you in a few days. Don't forget, Sarah will be there first thing in the morning."
The call disconnected and I stared down at the baby, looking fat and content. I couldn’t help but smile. Until I noticed an odd sensation in the palm of my hand. Then the smell hi
t me. Oh god. Time for a diaper change.
The evening went on like that. Me trying to figure out why he was crying, him crying as I changed his diaper, fed him, and bounced him until he finally drifted off to sleep.
After midnight, I laid down on the bed and fell into an exhausted slumber, and the baby immediately woke up screaming. Which happened it least every thirty minutes throughout the night. And each time, I inwardly swore at Kelli. Damn her! Damn her!
Each time, I gathered every ounce of patience I’d ever possessed and presented a calm demeanor to the baby, to Ethan, whispering or talking very softly. When the kid got going, it seemed like nothing would settle him down. For maybe the twentieth time tonight, I checked his diaper. Dry. He wouldn't take any more milk, so he was full. Why was he fussing? I tried cradling, placing him on my shoulder, rubbing his back, nothing seemed to work. It wasn't an all-out screech, but a lonely cry.
A lonely cry. A subdued, I'm not sure I want to be here kind of cry. Of course, he didn't know me and was probably scared. I felt for the kid, recalling my own strained relationship with my dad.
"Don't worry, kiddo, your nanny will be here first thing in the morning," I soothed. I could understand why Kelli would hire a nanny. She was often away on photoshoots. I wondered about the woman, Sarah. Kelli trusted her. Still, I would judge for myself, thank you very much.
Just before dawn, my eyes heavy-lidded, my hair mussed, wearing only a pair of basketball shorts, I settled a sleeping Ethan carefully on his back in the middle of my king-sized bed. I surrounded him with pillows and blankets. No way in hell would he be able to roll off the middle of the bed.
I’d just patted the last pillow in place when the doorbell shattered the silence.
I froze, waiting for mayhem to burst forth.
Ethan remained sleep. It was a miracle.
I squinted out the sliding glass doors at the backyard and pool, which were barely visible in the darkness and wondered what time it was. Before the bell could ring again, I quickly made my way out to the hall and into the foyer.
When I opened the door, I found myself looking down at a lovely young woman. She was probably in her mid-twenties, average height, maybe five-foot-five and had what I'd call a classic hourglass figure. She wore her brown hair in a high ponytail that was folded into a bun. I stared at her heart-shaped face, exquisitely thin eyebrows, slightly upturned nose, and firm lips. Her hazel green eyes complemented her olive-toned skin to a tee.
Whoa. This couldn’t be the nanny.
Three
Sarah
The cab dropped me off on the street at a circular driveway that led to a gorgeous mansion. A flagstone patio lush with greenery and flowers offered an attractive and scent-filled journey to the front door. I pressed the doorbell, trying to appear nonchalant, like I did this every day—showed up for my nanny position.
My heart pounded. I couldn't wait to pick Ethan up in my arms. It'd been a whole day since I had done so, twenty-four of the longest hours I’d spent since he was born.
Twenty-four hours since Kelli had lifted him from my arms, swaddled him in a baby blanket, and placed him into a large, sturdy wicker basket. I made sure that the diaper bag she was going to deliver along with him contained more than enough supplies to hold Joel for the night. Then I watched her walk away with my heart.
The moment Kelli had left the shelter with my baby, worry eclipsed my every thought. If Joel was the former jerk that Kelli made him out to be, why did she want to get back with him? I'd already asked myself that question a million times, and still couldn't figure it out. More importantly, could the guy take care of Ethan? Would he make an effort? I knew Ethan's habits. I knew when he liked to eat, how he liked to be held while feeding, and what to do when he was cranky. I knew his bladder and bowel routines like I knew my own. It was all part of being a mother.
I had asked Kelli about Joel, about how he behaved around kids. The question seemed to startle her for a moment, but then she flashed a smile and said that the guy loved kids. I wasn't sure she was telling the truth.
The minute the door had closed behind her, I changed my mind. I didn't want to do this. It hadn't even been a minute and I missed Ethan desperately.
But I forced my breathing to calm, my hands to stop shaking. I was doing this for Ethan. For his ultimate protection. I would be without him for twenty-four hours and then I would go to Joel Farrell's mansion and take my place as Ethan's nanny.
Unless he refused me. But why would he? He would see how good I was with Ethan, how much I cared for him. That I couldn't disguise. Kelli had warned me not to act like Ethan's mother, but merely his nanny.
I’d gazed dubiously at Kelli as she awkwardly lifted Ethan from his crib and prepared him for his quick trip to Joel's mansion. How was she going to pull off acting like she was Ethan's mother when she couldn't even hold him right? I had to remind her several times to always place a supporting hand behind Ethan's head and neck. The whole time she was wrapping my baby in that blanket, I resisted the urge to thrust out my hands and say let me do it.
Now here I stood, in front of a gorgeous stucco, wood, and aged-brick estate with sparkling windows. From its location atop a low rise, I caught the oranges and pinks of a southern California sunrise coloring the sky. I knew the ocean was only a mile or so in the distance.
I pressed the doorbell again. Was he sleeping? If he was sleeping, how was my baby? My heart fluttered with uncertainty, but before the sensation could burgeon into true fear, a shadow of a figure moved behind the multi-diamond-cut glass of the door.
My mouth grew so dry I was afraid I'd choke. I tightened my grip on my purse and on the strap of Ethan's bag filled with additional supplies, to hide the trembling of my hands I knew wouldn’t stop until he was in my arms.
The door swung open, and I barely prevented my mouth from dropping open.
Joel Farrell was not an ogre, and not at all like Kelli had presented him to be. He was maybe in his early thirties, and a good six or seven inches taller than me, as I came up to his chest. A bare, chiseled chest that I had to force my eyes away from. His dark brown hair, longer on top and shorter on the sides, was tousled. His eyes were bloodshot behind the glasses he wore, but a deep blue that contrasted with his pale complexion. The way he held himself told me he was tired and stressed.
"You're Sarah Taylor? The nanny?"
"Yes, I am," I replied hoarsely, my throat finally opening with my access to where Ethan was.
His shoulders sagged with relief and he swept a hand through his disheveled hair, letting his head fall back as he closed his eyes and swallowed. "Thank god."
"Why?" I asked, alarmed. "What's the matter? Is Ethan all right?"
He jerked back to awareness quickly and stepped back, opening the door wider. "The kid's fine. I can't say the same about me." He offered a tired grin. "I've never taken care of a baby before."
My eyes widened with alarm. "Did you…"
He gestured for me to follow him and I did, barely catching a glimpse of the house. What I could see of it from the foyer was staggering, but I didn’t care about that right now.
He quickly turned right, led me past what looked to be an office or study of some sort. Just beyond, we entered a short hallway, then passed through the doorway to a massive bedroom that overlooked a swimming pool in the backyard.
I did a double take. There, in the middle of a king-sized bed, sheltered by pillows and rolled up blankets, was my son. While Joel looked exhausted, like he had hardly slept a wink, Ethan slept well, on his back, arms flung out to his sides, his mouth making little sucking movements.
My heart melted as I smiled, barely able to resist the urge to rush to him and lift him into my arms. Instead, I walked slowly to the bed and inspected every inch of him. Both him and his onesie were clean, and he smelled fresh.
I glanced at Joel, startled to find him watching me oddly. Had I given myself away already?
"You're fond of the little guy, aren't you?" he asked sim
ply as he rubbed one eye, smearing his glasses.
I smiled again, returning my gaze to Ethan. "Very much so. It looks like you did all right by him.”
"Well let's see, since yesterday morning he's been fed about seven times, I've changed a million diapers, I gave him a bath in the sink and he spit up on me once." He frowned slightly. "He needs more clothes. Kelli didn't bring me enough, and that t-shirt he's wearing is the last clean thing I've got for him."
I glanced at Joel only to find him grinning, once again swiping a hand through his hair as he shook his head. "I have more clothes in the bag I brought with me."
"I never could have imagined something that small being so terrifying."
I laughed softly. He didn't seem like an ogre. He'd taken care of my baby, and from his appearance had put his own needs aside for Ethan. I restrained myself from picking up my son and cradling him close, desperate to inhale his scent and feel the soft brush of his hair against my cheek.
"He's still sleeping, so why don't I give you a quick tour of the house."
Loath as I was to leave Ethan, I knew he was all right for now and looked more than comfortable.
Joel gave me a quick tour and told me I could explore more at my leisure.
The place was massive. Its highlight was a dining nook set into an octagonal-shaped glass wall that overlooked the lanai and an even more gorgeous swimming pool surrounded by precisely laid antique brick. Every room was oversized, the huge step-down family room striking with a view of a patio complete with an outdoor kitchen space with range, barbecue, and all-weather outdoor seating. The family room looked like the most lived-in part of the house, with an enormous giant flat-screen TV mounted on one wall, a huge, wraparound couch on the other, plush carpeting, and wildlife paintings on the walls.
I couldn’t take it all in.
Joel pointed to a door on the opposite end of the family room that led to a short hallway. "There's a bedroom for you here, next to a bathroom."
I peeked in.
