The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

by Marion Lennox

  ‘What...how did this happen?’ she gasped.

  ‘My staff had notice. You can buy anything with money.’

  She stared around her in astonishment while Max lifted the sleeping Phoebe from her arms and laid her in her cot.

  ‘See? No cushions and a nice firm mattress,’ he told her. ‘But a buffer to stop her hitting the sides. My instructions were explicit.’

  ‘Good for you,’ she managed as Phoebe stirred and snuffled and then settled to serious sleep. ‘But there’s no adjoining door into my room. I won’t hear her in the night.’

  ‘That’s what this is for.’ He held up a state-of-the-art baby monitor. ‘But the receiver’s in my room. I’m taking this seriously.’

  ‘I...good.’

  She had no cause for complaint.

  But then as she gazed around the magnificent nursery she found herself thinking of the one-bedroom apartment she’d been raised in, the jumble of kids and noise and chaos, the ancient cane bassinet used by successive babies until they were big enough to join the tangle of kids in the shared bed.

  And she looked at Phoebe in her magnificent crib and she looked at the vast room and the state-of-the-art baby monitor, and she looked again at Max, who thought he had it all under control.

  But his expression said he wasn’t sure. His expression said maybe he had as many doubts as she did—but now wasn’t the time for voicing them.

  ‘Goodnight, then,’ she told him, and almost before she knew what she intended, she crossed the room and stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was a feather-touch, a brush of friendship. ‘You’ve done good, Max Grayland. Good luck with your baby monitor.’

  She was gone, deviating back to the kitchen to grab her sandwich and a glass of milk—a girl had to be practical—then heading to her room and shutting the door behind her.

  And there was no reason in the world why Max Grayland stood in the baby’s darkened room with his hand to his cheek.

  No reason at all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, Max kept the baby monitor. On Sunny’s first morning in New York she slept until ten, which was almost unheard-of for her. She yelped when she saw the time and bounced out of bed, to find Max at his desk at the far end of the massive living room with Phoebe in her perambulator beside him.

  ‘We took a few rounds of the apartment,’ he told her with evident pride. ‘She likes the perambulator. She got a bit scratchy for a while and we were worried we’d wake you but it didn’t reach full-throated roar. We decided she was just bored. So we went up and down in the elevator a few times and I explained its workings. She was most interested and now she’s gone to sleep to dream of counterweights and pulleys. Her eyes glazed over a bit when I started on elevator algorithms but she’s young. She’ll get it in time.’

  ‘She...you talked elevator algorithms...?’

  ‘She’s smart.’ Max’s voice held all the pride of a new dad. ‘She’ll have it nailed by this time next week.’

  ‘Of course she will.’ She was having trouble keeping her voice steady.

  ‘Breakfast? I’m up for a second. Waffles? We have a waffle maker and Eliza’s made up a batter. Eggs? Bacon? Maple syrup? You name it.’ And then he looked at her more closely. ‘And then back to bed, I think. The weather’s filthy, wind blowing straight from the Arctic. Phoebe and I are doing fine.’

  ‘I can’t... I’m here to work.’

  ‘You’re here as backup,’ he said, seriously now. ‘That was the deal. And Sunny, you can’t tell me you don’t need a break. The alcove over there is my library. We have movies to stream, newspapers, video games... There’s a lap pool in the basement and a gym. Anything you want...’

  ‘I didn’t come for a holiday.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘You came to give me the courage to do what I’m doing, and you’re succeeding.’ He was smiling, his eyes kind but also...searching? As if he could see the bone-deep weariness that had been with her almost since she was born. ‘So while you’re succeeding, how about looking after Sunny for a change?’ He rose. ‘Okay, you’re about to see a sight that’s not been seen by many. Max Grayland cooking.’

  ‘Can you?’

  ‘I think so,’ he said and grinned. ‘Eliza’s left me instructions. How hard can one waffle be?’

  * * *

  The waffle was excellent but it was hard to concentrate. Sunny ate in silence. She drank juice and coffee. She looked out of the windows at the vision of a rain-soaked Central Park. She tried not to look at Max.

  How could she stay here for four weeks...so close...when he just had to smile...?

  But as she finished her coffee he excused himself and headed back to his desk, and Phoebe.

  ‘If you’ll pardon us, we have work to do,’ he told Sunny. ‘Bed again? Or whatever you like. Your choice.’

  Sunny glanced at the gleaming dishwasher and thought she didn’t even have to wash a mug. She had time to herself... The sensation was so extraordinary she felt as if she were floating.

  She wouldn’t mind...just sitting and watching Max with Phoebe.

  He was back at his desk, sorting papers but glancing occasionally at the sleeping baby by his side. He looked tense, but he was trying. He was taking this seriously.

  He wanted a little sister?

  The vision of Phoebe’s over-the-top nursery was suddenly front and centre and she didn’t need to be told that this was how Max had been raised. A loner. A guy who didn’t do family.

  But he was trying and she’d been sent back to bed.

  As if she could sleep. Ha! But to go back to bed...to have nothing to do...

  She edged towards the library and Max cast her a glance of approval. ‘Anything you like...’

  Anything she liked. There was a concept that had the power to disconcert her all by itself. But she checked the books and saw what was there and almost forgot Max and Phoebe.

  Five minutes later she was scuttling back to her bedroom, clutching an armload of tomes.

  A whole day. Books. Warmth. Bed...

  And Max Grayland sitting in the room next door, gently rocking his baby sister.

  * * *

  They spent the weekend ensconced in their cocoon while Max figured Phoebe out and Sunny tried to figure herself out. There were times when Phoebe’s needs required her attention but Max was trying manfully to cope by himself. His phone was never silent but when Phoebe needed his attention he switched it off. Sunny was starting to feel seriously impressed.

  This man had been thrown a baby out of left field and he was doing his best. Sure, there were times when Phoebe screamed and nothing he could do seemed to placate her. That was what babies did and all she could do was reassure him.

  ‘A doctor once told me being a paediatrician’s like being a vet,’ she told him at two a.m. on the Monday morning when they were taking turns walking the circuit of the living room. ‘Babies and dogs...you know when they’re miserable but they can’t tell you what’s wrong.’

  ‘So what’s wrong?’

  ‘Who knows?’ She adjusted the screaming baby on her shoulder. ‘She’s not hungry. She’s clean and dry and warm. Maybe her tummy’s taking time to adjust to formula. Maybe she doesn’t like your colour scheme. Maybe she’s just figuring how her lungs work.’

  ‘Or maybe she’s ill.’

  ‘Maybe she is,’ Sunny told him. ‘But if you take her to Emergency and tell them she’s been screaming for less than an hour they’ll grin and say Welcome to the world of babies. Chances are the moment you’re admitted to see the doctor she’ll go to sleep.’

  ‘So I ignore screaming.’

  ‘You cuddle screaming. It’s the quiet stuff that’s scary.’

  ‘The quiet stuff?’ They were talking over Phoebe’s sobs and Phoebe�
��s sobs were doing something to him. Making him feel helpless? Making him feel he could never cope alone.

  ‘That’s when the doctors jump,’ Sunny told him. ‘A limp baby who’s off her food and doesn’t have the energy to cry is a scary thing.’

  ‘Is that what you had to cope with?’ If he was frightened of being alone...how much worse would it have been for Sunny?

  ‘I learned the difference. I took Tom to the hospital one night when he wouldn’t stop crying but he was fine and next thing I knew we had a bevy of social workers breathing down our necks. They didn’t like the idea of a ten-year-old presenting with a sick baby. Mum nearly killed me.’

  ‘But she didn’t take him herself?’

  ‘She wasn’t home. Hey, I think your sister’s asleep. Finally. You want me to take her in with me? Not in my bed,’ she said hastily. ‘In the pram beside me.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her room?’

  ‘It’s lonely. Maybe that’s why she’s crying. Who’d want to be alone?’

  And he looked at her oddly.

  This was a weird intimacy.

  Max was looking absurdly good for a guy woken in the middle of the night, but maybe having a gorgeous haircut, after-five shadow that looked downright sexy and pretty decent blue and white striped pyjamas did that for a guy. Whereas she was wearing a bad haircut and an oversized nightie she’d bought in an op shop two years ago.

  ‘Have you ever been alone?’ he asked.

  She tilted her head and looked at him, considering. The question, the way he made her feel, the way she was feeling—strangely aware of his vulnerability—made her answer with honesty.

  ‘Alone? Hardly ever,’ she told him. ‘I’d imagine that’s your specialty. But lonely...that night when I was scared for Tom, and all the other nights...you’d better believe it. But since Gran and Pa gave us a home I’ve pretty much forgotten what lonely feels like and I never want to go back there. So will you let her sleep with me? I swear she won’t miss her pink palace.’

  ‘She can sleep with me if you think she needs company.’ He was watching her as if he couldn’t figure her out. ‘Though it’ll take some getting used to—not being alone.’

  ‘There are advantages,’ she said, forcing herself to sound brisk. Employee chatting to employer. In her nightgown. ‘Here’s hoping she doesn’t snore. I’ll head back to bed then. Alone. I kind of like it.’

  ‘Sunny...’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘What would you like to do tomorrow? The forecast is reasonable. We could pack Phoebe up and...perambulate. First stop is to buy you a decent jacket and shoes. Next... The Statue of Liberty? The Empire State Building? You name it. Let’s go sightseeing.’

  ‘You don’t need to work?’

  ‘We made a deal. I’m sticking to it. Besides,’ he admitted, ‘it might be fun.’

  ‘I bet you’ve already seen the Statue of Liberty.’

  ‘I have,’ he agreed. ‘But she’s worth a second look.’

  ‘Or a thousandth?’

  ‘Sunny...whatever you want.’

  She hesitated. What she really wanted...

  She thought back to the pile of books she’d been reading and thought, Why not say it?

  ‘How about City Hall Station?’

  ‘City Hall Station?’ he said blankly. ‘What the...?’

  ‘You have influence, right?’

  ‘I...yes.’

  ‘I hoped you might. You’d need to pull a few strings to get us down there but they say there are guides who can organise it. Do you know what I’m talking of?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘It’s not used. I’ve just been reading about it. It was opened in 1904, deep in the belly of New York’s subway system. Apparently it’s a beautiful, untouched station that hardly anyone seems to know about. The architecture’s amazing. Apart from the skill of the engineering, it has the most gorgeous tiled arches, untouched brass fixtures that take your breath away and magnificent skylights running across the entire curve of the station.’

  ‘Why isn’t it used?’ he said faintly.

  ‘It was gorgeous but stupid. The engineers got everything right, apart from the biggie. Train carriages are long, neat rectangles, but the tracks at the platform are so curved they couldn’t stop the train without leaving a gap between the doors and the platform. Crazy, huh? It was used for a while with restrictions and then closed in 1945. I’d love to see it.’

  ‘But...why?’

  And he had her on her hobby horse. Despite the hour, despite the weirdness of the setting, she told him. ‘I love tunnels,’ she confessed. ‘There was an opening to a drain near us when I was a kid and I used to go exploring. The authorities have wised up to risks now and there are protective barriers in place. There aren’t many opportunities to go underground, but then...’

  ‘You went down drains?’ he said faintly. ‘On your own?’

  And she hesitated but then decided. Why not tell him?

  ‘It was my retreat,’ she confessed. ‘How corny’s that? I was always sensible—watchful for weather even when I was very small. But I remember...early on, one of Mum’s boyfriends hit me and I ran away. I found the drain, the opening to the tunnel and I sat in it for hours, far in, where no one could find me but I could still see the arch of the opening. Maybe I should have been frightened but the dim light, the silence, the huge, solid stones around me...somehow they made me feel safe. By the time I came out again I felt...stronger.’

  ‘Sunny!’

  ‘Dumb, isn’t it,’ she said sheepishly. ‘It makes no sense but there it is. And it’s stayed. Tunnels. I love ’em. The skill in making them... Can you imagine digging underground, then building vast stone arches so they met at the top, strong enough to handle the load of a city, cars, people, buildings, even trains?’ She shook her head. ‘If I had more education I’d have done engineering and learned how to dig them. I even tried to get a job on a construction crew when I was fifteen, but apparently teenage girls aren’t what they want around hard hats and diggers. But I read about them and now... The City Hall station... I bet you could get me down there.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said cautiously. ‘If I chose...’

  ‘So will you choose?’

  ‘Phoebe...’

  ‘It’s not dangerous. If we’re buying me a coat we could also buy a baby cocoon. Then Phoebe can see City Hall Station too. I bet that’s why she’s been crying. I was telling her about it this afternoon and she thought she’d miss out. But wouldn’t that be a cool thing to do?’

  ‘I...very cool.’ Wandering through unused underground subway stations instead of doing the work that was piling up...

  But Sunny was looking at him with eyes that were bright with excitement. She’d woken at two in the morning to help him with a screaming baby. She was wearing a nightgown that was too big, faded, frayed around the hem. Her hair was tousled, she was wearing no make-up, there was a smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose...

  He had the strongest desire to kiss...

  Um...not. She was holding his baby.

  Not his baby.

  His world was feeling more and more lopsided.

  ‘Do you still want to dig tunnels?’ he asked faintly and she grinned.

  ‘I’ve let that go,’ she said with regret. ‘I imagine tunnelling would require years of hands-on experience and it’s too late for that now.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But I would so love to study architecture. And I will.’

  She suddenly seemed to have stars in her eyes, a kid thinking of Christmas. It’s a dream, he told himself, and he shouldn’t mess with dreams. ‘That’s um...great,’ he said weakly. ‘Good for you.’

  Her twinkle didn’t fade but her look became speculative. ‘You think I’m nuts.’

  ‘I think...i
t’ll be hard.’

  ‘But not impossible.’

  ‘I guess... What age did you leave school?’

  ‘I hardly went to school, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know stuff. I pushed every one of my siblings through years of homework. Calculus? Geography? Try me. But universities need proof, so that’s what I’m doing. Slowly and online but I’m four university entrance units down. After another two I can apply. The course will take me years because I’ll still need to work but by the time I’m forty I might just be there. A fully-fledged architect. How cool would that be?’

  ‘Very cool,’ he managed, stunned. He shook his head. ‘How many things in your life are cool?’

  ‘Lots. And yours?’

  ‘I...maybe.’ But he’d never looked at life with the zest and enthusiasm this woman had. She was blowing him away.

  ‘Bed,’ she said now, with the same enthusiasm. ‘We have a big day tomorrow and Phoebe might wake up again.’

  ‘She might but she can sleep in my room while she decides.’

  She’d taken Phoebe off her shoulder and was cradling her against her breast. Phoebe’s face had relaxed in sleep. The screaming jag was done. Sunny was smiling down at her, as peaceful as the baby herself.

  He came close to take her, and then paused. Caught by the night. The quiet. The total silence.

  This woman who’d been through so much, who’d faced the world with such bravery, who had so much to give...

  This woman was beautiful.

  She looked up at him, questioning, wondering why he was hesitating. Her face was tilted...

  She seemed infinitely precious, infinitely fragile.

  He shouldn’t. She was alone in his apartment. She was his employee. She was totally vulnerable...

  ‘If you want to kiss me then kiss me,’ she said, and suddenly she was grinning.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have I misread the signs?’

  ‘No.’ He was smiling too. ‘You haven’t. But Sunny... Back in Australia...’