It wasn’t like him to think so hard about a woman, to wonder so much. Before D.J., he used to approach women, and either they would encourage him or not. Either something would connect or it wouldn’t. But the ambivalent emotions, the need and the wariness, the ache of wanting and the hesitation about acting on that want—it all was new to him. He didn’t understand it. He might as well blame it on D.J.
In D.J.’s room, he indicated to Corinne that she should put the baby down on the waterproof pad on top of the dresser. “Don’t let go of him or he’ll roll off,” he warned as he crossed the room to grab a diaper. “Here—you want to try doing this?”
“Sure.” She flashed him a smile that was one part confidence and three parts astonishment, as if she couldn’t believe she was actually going to attempt such a feat. Then she turned to D.J. and unfolded the towel.
“Work fast,” Levi cautioned her. “He can hose you down if he feels the urge.”
She laughed and slid the diaper under D.J.’s bottom. “Should I put powder on him?”
“Not necessary. Just get the thing taped shut before he geysers.”
She did a pretty good job of it, fastening the tapes evenly around D.J.’s waist. “There!” She beamed, obviously quite proud of herself.
He pulled open a drawer and removed a sleeper for D.J. “You’re doing so great, you may as well keep going. You should probably move over to the futon to put this on him, because he’s going to squirm a lot.”
“Okay.” The ratio of confidence to astonishment changed. She looked pretty sure of herself as she carried D.J. to the futon and laid him down on the cushions.
Levi watched for a minute, then realized he wasn’t needed there. She could handle getting D.J. into his pajamas without any assistance from Levi. “I’ll go downstairs and fix a bottle for him,” he said.
She nodded, but she was too busy guiding D.J.’s legs into the pajama bottoms to look at him.
He felt almost relieved to get away from her, away from them both for a while. At the foot of the stairs, he paused and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he pictured her smile, her graceful fingers smoothing the tapes on D.J.’s diaper. He pictured the way D.J. stared at her, his eyes brimming with trust and devotion. Why? Why was D.J. so taken with Corinne?
Shaking his head, he strode to the kitchen, filled a bottle with formula, warmed in the microwave for a few seconds and then returned to the stairs. Halfway up, he heard the lullaby:
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word.
Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…
He slowed his steps, muffling them so his approach wouldn’t interrupt her.
And if that mockingbird won’t sing,
Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…
She had a beautiful voice, as clear and delicate as fine crystal.
And if that diamond ring is brass,
Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass.
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama’s gonna buy you a billy goat…
He’d reached the top of the stairs. Halting, he hovered outside the door so she wouldn’t see him and stop singing.
And if that billy goat won’t pull,
Mama’s gonna buy you a cart and bull.
And if that cart and bull turn over,
Mama’s gonna buy you a dog named Rover…
He tried to remember where he’d heard the lullaby before. On the radio, probably. A rock and roll version of it. His mother had never sung it to him. She’d have criticized it as too materialistic—and she’d have been right, he thought with a wry grin. But then, she’d never sung any other lullabies to him or his siblings, either. Lullabies were frivolous. They were luxuries, unnecessary.
And if that dog named Rover won’t bark,
Mama’s gonna buy you a horse and cart.
And if that horse and cart fall down,
You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.
He remained in the hallway as the last note faded into silence. It seemed to seep into him, thick and warm as oil, softening him inside, causing a confusion of feelings to melt together in his gut. Grief that D.J. had no mother to sing him lullabies. Gratitude that D.J. had Corinne to sing to him tonight. Fear that Corinne could become important to D.J., and then she’d leave. Fear that she could become important to Levi.
He didn’t have time to deal with his bewilderment. What emotions he could manage ought to be devoted to D.J. alone. A healthy attraction to Corinne was fine, and if that attraction was mutual, even better. But he couldn’t let himself get emotional about her.
Too late. His emotions were already involved. He’d been reacting to far more than her nearness when she’d been giving D.J. his bath, far more than the pressure of her shoulder, her hip, the soft swell of her breast. What he’d really been responding to he couldn’t name, but it had to do with that powerful connection between her and D.J., the intensity he sensed in her when she held his little boy.
Until he could figure it out, he wasn’t going to be able to resist it.
He roused himself with a sigh and entered the room. Corinne was standing near the window, D.J. cradled in her left arm, his head resting against the crook of her elbow. She held him so he could gaze out at the night sky. The room’s light fell gently over her back and caught in the strands of D.J.’s hair.
She turned to acknowledge Levi’s entrance, and D.J. reached up and pinched at her shirt. Was he looking for milk or trying to get her to turn back to the window so he could see outside?
Turn, Levi almost ordered her. Let him see the sky. “Here’s his bottle,” he said, his voice emerging a bit rough.
“Am I supposed to feed him, too?” she asked with a grin.
Had she thought he was imposing on her? “Only if you want to,” he assured her.
She exchanged a glance with him. Her smile was enigmatic, her eyes alive with silver and green light. Then she extended her hand toward the bottle. “I want to.”
They settled on the futon as they had the last time she’d given D.J. a bottle. Her expression grew tender as she watched the baby drink, and she looked much more natural feeding him tonight than she’d looked a week and a half ago. D.J. kept his gaze on her as long as he could, but after about half the bottle was gone he seemed intoxicated, his eyes closing, one hand fisting against the bottle and the other clutching Corinne’s thumb.
Levi sat beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her. She might have been D.J.’s mother, the way she was feeding him. Of course she wasn’t; Ruth was D.J.’s mother and always would be. But the affection illuminating Corinne’s face, her protective posture, her patience and serenity…
Damn. She was supposed to be a hard hitter from New York, but she was transforming into someone else: a woman who could reach a motherless baby the way no other woman could, the way Levi himself could only dream of.
Why was she here? For Levi or for D.J.?
He just didn’t know.
*
EVEN AS HE DRANK, her lullaby echoed inside him. Hush little baby…
His mother used to sing it to him. This woman sang it differently, but it was the same song. His mother went away and took the song with her, and he was afraid he’d never hear it again.
But this woman had brought it back. She’d given it back to him.
Hush little baby…
The woman had let him watch the stars while she sang. He’d seen tiny spots of silver in the black sky, and the white smile of the moon.
The woman had come back, and she’d brought the song with her. And now she was feeding him. It was almost like having his mother again. Almost.
If he couldn’t have his mother, he wanted this woman. He wanted her to sing and feed him and hold him like this. He wanted her voice and her arms around him and the love he felt coming from her.
He wanted her to stay forever.
Chapter Ten
THE DEEPER D.J. sank into sleep, the more he seemed to weigh. Corinne’s hands
began to grow numb as he snuggled heavily into her arms, his breathing slow and constant, a small milky bubble trembling on his lip. Levi reached around her to dab away that droplet with a tissue, then took the empty bottle from her and stood. He helped her to her feet the way he had in the bathroom, his hands strong and warm beneath her elbows, his fingers curving around her upper arms.
She carried D.J. to his crib and lowered him onto the mattress. The sheet was a cotton knit, softer than the linens on her bed, and it featured a pattern of puffy white clouds scattered across a pale blue background. She lifted the matching blanket and spread it over him and his teddy bear. He poked his thumb into his mouth and sighed.
Neither she nor Levi spoke. He hovered close behind her, standing guard over both her and the baby as if they were all in this together, a solid, single unit sharing one goal: to insure a good life for one special child.
The emotion that pulled at Corinne’s heart baffled her. She’d only just met D.J. ten days ago, and she’d viewed him then as a pest, a complication in her dealings with Levi. That first day she’d gone to Arlington Architectural Associates, her only goal had been to develop a saner design for Gerald’s dream house. And D.J., fussing and wailing on Levi’s shoulder, had been a distraction, a problem, an obstacle to be overcome.
Now that day seemed eons in the past.
If she could step out of her body and view this moment from a distance, she would hardly know herself. She was no longer the same person she’d been just days ago, the competent, poised manager who fixed everything, who saved Gerald from his own foolish impulses and packaged his genius in profitable ways. She had become someone else: a woman who figured out how to change a diaper and wrestle a squirming baby into his pajamas. A woman who sang lullabies. A woman who felt as if she belonged right where she was, between a tall, quiet man and a sleeping infant, a woman who wanted to lean back into the strong chest of the man who’d introduced this child into her life and trusted her with him.
D.J. sighed again, took a hearty suck on his thumb and smiled. He was dreaming something happy, surrounded in his bed by blue sky and clouds while the stars of a night sky filled the window above him.
Levi touched her shoulder, and the warmth that filled her chest at the sight of D.J. slumbering spread upward to the place where his hand rested on her. He flexed his fingers against her, and she realized he was signaling her that it was time to leave the baby.
Reluctantly she turned from the crib and let Levi lead her out of the room. By the door, he turned on the nightlight and switched off the lamp.
They took a few steps down the hall and stopped. The only light in the hall was a distorted rectangle of amber from D.J.’s nightlight spilling through the open doorway onto the carpet. Corinne turned to Levi. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she peered up into his face.
He was watching her, looking as bewildered as she felt. He must have recognized that something had changed between them, something had changed inside her. A new dynamic had altered the atmosphere; a strange magic had folded its cloak around them. When Corinne Lanier started singing lullabies, the world was clearly rotating at a different speed, on an altered axis.
They stared at each other for a long minute, neither speaking, Corinne not knowing what she would say if she did open her mouth. Would she demand that Levi explain what was going on between her and D.J., between her and himself? Would she ask him to tell her why every cell in her body quivered with expectation, every nerve bristled in anticipation, why she was braced for the earth’s crazy spin to send them into a new orbit? If she asked such questions, how could he possibly answer?
By kissing her.
This kiss wasn’t like the one he’d given her at his office. It wasn’t swift and strategic, designed with a specific goal in mind. Rather, it was slow and tender and exploratory. His lips touched hers, brushed, caressed. Then he paused and leaned back, giving her the chance to say no.
She couldn’t say no. She didn’t want to. She tilted her head toward him and he touched his mouth to hers again, this time less hesitant, more assertive.
The earth might be spinning out of control, but Levi’s kiss seemed to anchor her. It was the most rational element in an irrational universe, an act that made sense of everything.
She kissed him back. She lifted her hand to his chest as he cupped his hand to her cheek, and let his breath merge with hers as his mouth opened against her. She closed her eyes and absorbed his sigh, leaned toward him and met the thrust of his tongue.
He was a phenomenal kisser. She should have guessed he would be; he was handsome and patient and sensitive, so it seemed reasonable that he would know how to use his mouth to maximum effect. He teased, withdrew, skimmed his tongue against her teeth, nibbled teasingly on her lower lip. His hand moved past her ear and dove into her hair, simultaneously stroking her scalp and angling her head so he could deepen the kiss.
She tried to keep up with him. He was more adept than her; he had either more experience or better instincts. Probably both. Corinne didn’t have time to meet men, and she didn’t kiss men she barely knew—not the way she was kissing Levi. The only man she was close enough to kiss this way was Gerald, and he was…well, Gerald.
She couldn’t imagine kissing him like this. She couldn’t imagine pressing into him, clutching at his shirt, yearning for the feel of flesh and muscle on the other side of the fabric. She couldn’t imagine Gerald bringing his other arm around her waist and pulling her so close she felt the swell of his arousal against her belly. She adored Gerald, but she didn’t want him. Not like this.
She wanted Levi. She wanted him with a crazy, pulsing hunger, an almost desperate yearning. He could make everything become comprehensible to her. He could make things fall into place, make her feel whole. His kiss was like a lullaby echoing inside her, opening her up, reassuring her that trusting him was the right thing to do.
The kiss went on and on. She felt drunk with it, even as it clarified her mind. It offered safety yet dared her to take risks. It riled her and soothed her. It made her want and want and want.
His hands moved on her, one twining through her hair and the other gliding down to her hip, holding her as he rocked against her in an unmistakable rhythm. A small gasp escaped her at the intimacy, and he pulled back to gaze into her face. Even in the dark she could see him, her own longing reflected in his eyes.
Yes, she thought. This made sense. No need to question it. She would simply accept it.
He bowed to kiss her again, this time on her cheek, then the bridge of her nose, then her temple. Her head fell back and he grazed her throat and the skin below her ear. His hands moved forward to the tiny buttons running down the front of her sweater. He easily opened them and his mouth chased his fingers, kissing her collarbones, her sternum, the hollow between her breasts.
Heat billowed through her, her own arousal as strong as his. She tugged at his shirt, but he kept kissing her, skimming his mouth along the lacy edge of her bra and then centering on one nipple, sucking on it through the thin silk. She gasped again, arching her back, wanting even more.
Straightening, he peeled the bra up out of his way, and filled his hands with her breasts. His mouth came down on hers again, hard and greedy, and she clung to him, savoring the taste of him, the pressure of his large hands against her skin, the friction of his thumbs chafing her.
If she could manage to string a few words together, she would say…what? That this was crazy, that the old Corinne was gone and he was actually kissing a stranger, a lullaby singer. That a hallway outside a makeshift nursery was not an appropriate place to do what they were doing. That the silence and the darkness made every sensation more acute, more erotic.
Or she would speak the truth: I want more, Levi. I want you.
She said it with her kisses, her fingers, her sighs. She pulled at his shirt, groping it clumsily until, after some struggle, she freed it from the waistband of his jeans. Her reward was to slide her hands under it, to stroke his h
ot, smooth back, to feel the subtle ripple of muscle beneath her fingertips. He stopped caressing her breasts long enough to yank his shirt over his head and toss it aside, freeing her to run her hands all over his torso, up to his knotted shoulders, down his arms, forward to his sleek chest, his abdomen, the wings of his hipbones riding just above the edge of his jeans. Her touch caused him to moan, so softly she barely heard him, but that low vibration of sound gratified her enormously.
He wanted her—as much as she wanted him.
Fingers worked at belt buckles, waistband fastenings, zippers. He had her pants open first, and he slid his hand down inside her panties and stroked between her thighs to where the want burned most fiercely. She swayed, and he urged her against the wall, pushing at her slacks until they fell past her knees and dropped to the floor. He kissed her, kept one hand on her breast and rubbed the fingers of his other hand against her, again and again. She would have cried out if his mouth weren’t covering hers.
She tried to strip off his jeans, but her hands refused to obey. Her fingers clenched from the tension building inside her.
After an unbearable moment he released her breast and dug into his pocket. He shoved her panties down and she wriggled one foot free of them, then reached for him just as he unrolled a sheath over himself. She helped him, her hand chasing his along his erection, and then he cupped her hips and surged deep into her.
The wall held her up. So did Levi, lifting her legs around his hips, easing back and then surging again, filling her, possessing her. Her body shook, drawing tight inside. All her energy gathered around him, around the place where they moved together, where they found each other and themselves.
Her climax was quick and intense, causing her toes to curl, her breasts to ache and her fingers to pinch his back. Her soul throbbed in its own secret pulse, embracing him as he gave one final thrust and groaned against her mouth.
A long time passed before he loosened his hold on her. She sank against the wall, her legs oddly nerveless as they slid down past his crumpled jeans. Her feet found the floor, but she clung to his shoulders, certain that if she tried to stand without assistance she’d collapse.
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