Kind of.
‘How do mothers know to do all this?’ he demanded as she walked into his apartment. ‘The notes say she has dinner at five-thirty, a little meat cut up fine with mashed vegetables. It doesn’t say what kind of meat or how you can cook a piece of steak while holding a crying baby in your arms and not burn the child, and is she crying because she’s hungry or she needs her mother or what? How do I know?’
‘You don’t,’ Bill told him, taking Steffi in her arms and rocking her back and forth until the crying stopped. ‘You have to guess, but didn’t she have a nap?’
‘Of course she had a nap. Bottle and a nap at three, the notes said, and we did that, although I had to put the bottle in the freezer to cool the boiled water before I could give it to her. I can see I’ll have to boil water ahead.’
‘So you read the notes?’ Bill persisted, watching as Nick turned a very large piece of steak on a griddle pan.
‘Of course!’
He was cranky and she had to hide a smile so she didn’t make things worse.
‘The bit that said when she had dinner and what she ate?’
‘Of course!’ Really cranky now.
‘And it didn’t occur to you to get it ready while she slept?’
He looked up from the steak, frowning, growling.
‘I was busy on the computer.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Well, I obviously can’t put a baby seat in my car, can I, so I had to do some research on the safest vehicles for kids to travel in. You’ve no idea.’
Bill grinned at him, reminded him to turn the steak, then went to the cupboard where one of her sisters-in-law had stacked bottles of additive- and colouring-free baby food. She set Steffi in the highchair, strapped her in, gave her a small plastic spoon to play with, and opened the jar.
‘Here,’ she said to Nick when she’d warmed the jar in some hot water. ‘Feed her this. It won’t hurt not to have fresh cooked every now and then, and later, when it’s cooled, she can gnaw on a bit of that steak.’
Knowing she would definitely laugh if she watched him feed an infant for the first time, she left him to it, going into the bathroom to run a bath, which Steffi would certainly need.
She’d just set a small plastic duck floating in the water when Nick appeared, both he and Steffi liberally smeared with food.
‘I’ll get the hang of this!’ he muttered as he handed her over, and he was halfway out the door before he added, ‘I have to shower. Did I thank you?’
He came back in, embraced them both, then to Bill’s astonishment he kissed her, not on the cheek or forehead or even the top of her head, as he was wont to do, but on the lips—full on the lips!
‘Beyond the call of duty, this, friend Bill,’ he said, his voice husky with what couldn’t possibly be tears.
Except he hadn’t had much sleep, and he’d certainly had the most emotional day of his life, so perhaps...
CHAPTER FIVE
HE’D KISSED BILL on the lips—Bill, his friend, on the lips!
Nick stood under the shower, wondering why this one small incident from an unbelievably momentous day should be occupying his attention to the exclusion of all else.
Including the fact he had a daughter...
Because Bill’s lips had felt so soft?
Tasted so sweet?
Or because when he’d tasted that sweetness, felt the softness, he’d also felt a stirring somewhere else?
No, it was because he was shocked and tired—not to mention emotionally exhausted—that kissing Bill had suddenly taken over his mind.
Or he was thinking of it to stop himself worrying over what would become of him and Steffi.
So why was a voice in the back of his head suggesting he kiss Bill again? Perhaps when he left for work, although what the voice was really suggesting was a proper kiss—an in-the-arms kiss, Bill’s slim body pressed to his, her lips parting to his invading tongue—
‘Out now!’
He spoke the order aloud, hoping to rein in his rampaging thoughts. Far better to think of Steffi and all the problems her arrival was going to cause in his life.
‘She’ll need some new clothes—just lightweight cotton tops and pants to suit this climate,’ Bill said when he walked into the room she’d prepared for Steffi. The little girl was dressed in a long-sleeved pink and white striped suit that covered her from ankles to neck. ‘Most of her clothes will be too heavy up here. We’ll shop tomorrow, she and I.’
Bill handed him the baby and wandered off, muttering something about getting the bottle ready.
He wanted to follow her, to have a good look at her, although he knew her reaction to the kiss wouldn’t be written on her face.
In fact, she probably hadn’t reacted at all, thinking, if anything, that he’d just happened to miss her cheek.
Deciding to follow her to the kitchen anyway—maybe looking at her would sort out why he’d kissed her lips—he wandered out of the bedroom and stood in the hall, looking into the kitchen where Bill was shaking a bottle to mix the formula.
Her back was to him so he was able to study her—slim legs encased in black leggings, a loose white T-shirt hanging to her thighs, tangled red hair falling below her shoulders, the front bit of it bunched up on the top of her head.
Bill, as he’d seen her thousands of times—so how could he possibly have become attracted to her now?
And why?
Because he hadn’t had a regular lover lately?
Lover?
How could he possibly even think that word about Bill?
Was it that insidious longing for a family that had started when Serena had first been pregnant that was making him look at Bill differently?
No, far too convenient an excuse.
Steffi made a gurgling noise and Bill turned, apparently startled to see him there as faint colour spread across her cheeks.
‘Have you got time to give Steffi the bottle?’ she asked, handing it to him, then, without waiting for a reply, adding, ‘I’ll get a bib.’
Bill fled, heading for Steffi’s room, unable to believe Nick had caught her as she’d been staring vacantly out the kitchen window, thinking about a kiss.
Not just any kiss, but his, Nick’s, kiss!
A lip-kiss of all things. Of course, he’d probably aimed for her cheek and she’d moved her head at just the wrong moment.
And although she knew full well he’d have only seen her back view when he’d come into the kitchen, she’d actually blushed—her cheeks burning—at being caught out.
But the kiss had affected her so strangely she hadn’t been able to not think about it.
Which was crazy as his lips had barely brushed hers, yet she’d felt fire travel from that touch, right through her body, heating her flesh and sending her nerves into a quiver of excitement.
Tiredness, she told herself, and grabbed a bib from where she’d put them in a drawer, intending to hurry back to Nick despite legs heavy with reluctance.
This is totally insane—that was the next bit of information she offered her disordered brain and twitchy body. This is Nick we’re talking about.
Nick!
‘Bib!’
She handed it to him as he sat on the couch, showing the bottle to Steffi while he tried to work out how best to hold her.
‘Like this,’ she said, settling the infant in his arms and fixing the bib herself.
Now walk away.
She knew this last bit of advice offered by her few still-functioning brain cells was extremely sensible—even compelling—but how could she walk away from the sight in front of her? Steffi totally absorbed in sucking down her milk, but one hand clutching Nick’s little finger and her eyes never moving from his face.
As for Nick,
he simply sat, looking down at his daughter, the love he felt for her already written so clearly on his face it hurt Bill’s heart to see it.
Rationally she knew that finding he had a daughter was the best thing that had ever happened to Nick, but what lay ahead? Could Steffi be the start of the family he wanted or would he grow to love her more and more then have her snatched away?
Knowing the pain of that kind of loss, Bill could only feel for him—worry for him—yet that was better, surely, than worrying about kisses?
No, one kiss, singular.
One kiss didn’t count...
* * *
Nick arrived home after a distracted night on duty to a silent home. Tiptoeing, he made his way to Steffi’s room but the cot was empty. He assumed Bill was sleeping in the next bedroom, although they hadn’t discussed any arrangements—anything at all, really.
The door was open and tucked under a sheet was Bill, making little snuffling noises as she slept, and nestled in beside her was his daughter, also asleep, although an empty bottle on the bedside table suggested that at some time during the night she’d woken up hungry and had needed to be fed again.
Nick stood in the doorway and looked at the pair of them, and felt again an overwhelming surge of love.
For Steffi, of course...
He walked away quietly, into the kitchen, but he’d barely reached the door when he heard a gurgle of laughter. His daughter was awake.
Thinking he’d pick her up and let Bill sleep, he hurried back to the room, but the gurgle had woken Bill as well, and she was smiling tiredly as Steffi played peek-a-boo in the wild red hair.
‘Bad night?’ Nick asked, moving into the room to scoop Steffi into his arms.
‘Not really,’ Bill said, sitting up so he couldn’t help but notice the minimal nightdress she was wearing, a fine cotton shift that barely covered her small but shapely breasts and clearly showed her body curving down to a tiny waist. ‘She woke at three and didn’t settle so in the end I gave her another bottle and brought her in with me. So much change and strangeness for the wee mite, I thought she probably needed cuddling, lots of cuddling.’
She grinned and added, ‘Then, of course, I was so worried about rolling over and squashing her that I took ages to fall asleep myself. She’ll need changing and you’ll find clean clothes in the second drawer down in the dresser. I’ll be out when I’ve woken up properly.’
‘And put some clothes on,’ he muttered to himself as he walked away.
Steffi looked up enquiringly at him and he gave her a reassuring smile, then his nose told him that she really did need changing and that fatherhood wasn’t going to be all smiles and gurgling laughter.
Bill was in the kitchen when he’d undressed, cleaned and dressed his daughter again.
‘Have you any idea how much excrement a child this size can produce?’ he demanded, handing Steffi to Bill so he could have a proper wash himself.
‘It’s what they’re good at, at this age,’ Bill told him, as she settled Steffi in the high chair and started asking what she’d like for breakfast.
‘Cereal and fruit?’ Bill suggested.
Steffi banged her spoon on the tray and Bill grinned at her.
‘I thought so,’ she said, pulling the box of baby cereal and a small jar of puréed fruit from the cupboard. ‘Now your dad’s clean, he can feed you.’
‘Oh, no!’ Nick retorted. ‘I did it last night. I’ll make our breakfast—coffee and toast do you? I haven’t shopped but Bob made sure there were some essentials here.’
Bill agreed that coffee and toast would be fine. She lifted the highchair close to the breakfast bar and perched on a stool so she could feed Steffi while they had breakfast.
Nick tried to focus on what he was doing, but making coffee and toast demanded little in the way of concentration so the domesticity of the situation attracted most of his attention. He watched Bill, noticed the way her lips parted slightly as she spooned food into Steffi’s mouth, saw the concentration on Bill’s face, but something else...
Concern?
Something more he couldn’t understand?
‘I know Serena said she was used to being cared for by strangers, but you’d think she must be missing if not her mother at least her grandmother.’
Bill’s statement cut into his thoughts.
Had she been worrying about Steffi’s well-being while he tried to guess at something deeper?
‘You’d think so,’ he agreed. ‘So, what can we do?’
Bill frowned at him but he knew the frown was for her thoughts, not for him—at least, he hoped so.
‘I think all we can do is give her lots and lots of physical love—cuddles, talking, kisses, songs—using her name and telling her we love her. I’ve no idea how much infants understand at different ages, but I don’t know what else we can do.’
Nick felt his chest squeeze. Hadn’t love always been Bill’s answer to everything? Love for her friends, her pets, her family. The arguments they’d had over love—he claiming it was something poets and musicians made up to write about, she firm in her belief it made the world go round.
But now he’d felt this thing called love—for what else could the emotion he felt towards his daughter be?—he realised that while it might not make the world go round, it was probably all they could do to help Steffi feel secure—give her lots and lots of love.
Show her love with talk and cuddles.
But was it wrong of him to expect Bill to be doing this when Steffi wasn’t Bill’s child?
Was it something to do with her relationship to Steffi that was causing the shadows he kept catching on Bill’s face?
‘Write a list of what you need at the supermarket and Steffi and I will go there after we’ve bought her some tropical clothes,’ the woman he was worrying about said as she scraped the last of the cereal out of the bowl and spooned it into Steffi’s mouth, neatly wiping off the excess with a small facecloth she’d had the foresight to have nearby.
He’d show her love and he’d learn to do all these things, Nick told himself, and concentrating on learning all he could about caring for his daughter would distract him from the wayward thoughts he was having about Bill.
‘I could shop later when I’ve had a sleep,’ he said, knowing he needed to start right now because his wayward thoughts were increasing despite the fact he and Bill must have breakfasted together like this—yes, a thousand times...
Except he hadn’t felt his gut clench when she smiled at him—not once in those thousand times.
‘I think for a few days at least your spare time should be spent with Steffi, so you learn the rhythms of her life and you get to know each other better. Write a list and we’ll shop while you sleep, then this afternoon she’ll be all yours.’
It made sense so he wrote a list—a good distraction—although if Bill was staying here he needed to consult her on what she liked to eat.
‘Same as you, remember, steak and salad, lamb cutlets and salad, roast lamb—basic food. Put what you want in the way of snacks and drinks on the list, I’ll do the rest. If I’m to be lolling around here for the week I might as well do the evening meal. We can gradually shift Steffi’s evening meal a little later, and with you working nights you need to eat early so we can all eat together, which, the sensible Kirsten tells me, is a good habit to get into.’
Except it makes us seem like a family—the thing I wanted—but we’re not, Nick thought as he left the room to find a pen and notepad, really leaving the room because the distraction of Bill’s long, tanned legs tucked up on the stool was stronger than the distraction of learning to look after his daughter.
* * *
One week, that’s all it would be, Bill promised herself as Nick left the room. Within a week she’d have settled Steffi into her new, if temporary home, found a
decent, reliable nanny to give Nick back-up care when he was working and she could leave him to get to know his daughter on his own.
The ‘if temporary’ part worried her. It was all very well for Serena to tell Nick they’d ‘talk’ when she returned, but knowing Nick there was no way, now he knew about her, that he would give up his daughter.
No way he could, Bill suspected, remembering the besotted look on Nick’s face.
She sighed and reminded herself that she needed to be careful too. Even more careful than Nick, for Steffi wasn’t and never would be her daughter, so falling in love with the wee mite was just not on.
Detached—that’s how she had to be. She could love Steffi as she loved her nieces and nephews, but stay detached...
She’d sent Nick off to have a sleep and was clearing up the kitchen when he reappeared, clad only in longish boxer shorts that he must wear as pyjamas. Her eyes were drawn inexorably towards his chest and were so focussed there she hadn’t a clue what he was saying.
‘I missed that,’ she said, cursing inwardly because her voice came out all breathy.
‘I was saying you can’t take Steffi to the shops—no car seat.’
Desperate to distract herself from that chest, Bill lifted Steffi out of the highchair and set her on the floor, handing her a couple of wooden spoons and a saucepan to bang.
‘I’ve got a car seat,’ she responded, ‘and whichever sister-in-law brought it insisted on installing it so she knew it was secure. She even adjusted the straps to fit Steffi. And there’s a stroller in the car as well, so we’re all set,’ she said, skipping out of Steffi’s reach as the toddler decided hitting legs was more fun than hitting a saucepan.
‘You’ve thought of everything,’ Nick grumbled as he turned back towards his bedroom, although he did relent, swinging back to smile and say, ‘I have thanked you, haven’t I?’
To Bill’s dismay she felt a blush rising up her neck towards her cheeks as she remembered just how he’d thanked her. Thinking quickly, she bent down to lift Steffi in her arms to shield her so-transparent reaction from Nick.
‘Of course you have,’ she mumbled against Steffi’s fluff of hair.
One Baby Step at a Time Page 6
