Bringing Up Baby New Year & Frisky Business

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “That’s good.” And it was good, he thought. He had no interest in taking over any part of the care of that rugrat. None at all. Changing diapers was no picnic, although he remembered how Marty used to lie there kicking his chubby little legs and laughing to beat the band because he’d loved being naked. Ryan had been pretty cute about that, too, and Peggy used to smile at him as if she had some secret she was keeping. Ryan used to love having his tummy tickled. Marty didn’t. His specialty was peeing all over you.

  “Joe?”

  “What?” He blinked.

  “You were staring off into space and grinning. I just wondered what was so funny.”

  “Uh, nothing.” Great. Staring into space and grinning like an imbecile. Nice picture. But now that he thought about it, he wondered when was the last time he’d talked, really talked, to his two brothers and his little sister. They were almost grown up now, and yet it seemed only yesterday they were toddlers. He decided it was time to change the subject. He pointed to the costume on the couch. “I take it that’s mine?”

  “Yes.” She picked it up. “I need you to put it on so I can see how you look.”

  He wasn’t eager to put on the dorky outfit, so he stalled. “Has Bill been by to pick up the cow?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. I really need to talk to him. I…” He paused as a steady thumping noise began overhead. He glanced up at the ceiling in alarm. “Is that Gus?”

  “He’s rocking himself to sleep. Pay no attention. Listen, about that cow—”

  “Pay no attention? It sounds like a pile driver’s operating up there!” Or a passionate couple was really going at it, he thought. He sure didn’t need that kind of suggestive noise right now.

  “He’ll stop in a little bit. Now about that cow—I found some rope and tied her to the back gate, but she’s eaten a fair amount of the greenery, and there are cow-patties all over the pool deck.”

  “Yeah, I figured there’d be a mess out there.” Joe raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll clean it up once Bill takes the cow. I’m sure if we had something smaller, a cute little calf or maybe a woolly lamb, then—”

  “You’re not seriously planning to get another animal for the display?”

  “Sure.” Her know-it-all tone got his back up, but maybe that was better than getting a rise out of other parts of him. “A smaller animal. Like maybe a burro. Burros are small.”

  She pursed her luscious lips and shook her head.

  “What? A little burro would be perfect. Big eyes, long ears. Burros are very Biblical.”

  “You’ve never lived on a farm, have you?”

  “Not exactly.” He saw his vision of the manger scene becoming compromised, and he didn’t like it. “But I’ve been to the petting zoo. I think we could handle an animal or two.”

  “Joe, trust me on this. When I was a girl in County Kerry, we had all sorts of livestock, and you don’t want creatures like that eating and pooping on DeWitt’s patio. You’ll never repair the damage. You have some heavy-duty scrubbing ahead of you as it is.”

  He wished he could sit next to her on the couch and put his arm around her while they talked about this. She was the kind of woman who made a guy long for physical contact even when she was being a know-it-all. To occupy his arm, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been talking to some of the guys at Home World about last year’s displays. I didn’t realize they were so…fantastic. Almost like Disneyland, they said.”

  “I guess so. I’ve never been here at night, so I can’t say.” She twirled a lock of her red-gold hair around her finger.

  He knew how that silky strand must feel, and his throat ached from wanting to bury his fingers in her hair again the way he had the night before. He didn’t want to talk about Christmas displays. He didn’t want to talk at all. But talk was all he had.

  “These guys have taken their families through Tannenbaum over the past few years,” he said. “And from what they described, I’m not so sure having a live Jesus, Mary and Joseph in the manger scene will have enough of an impact. I think in order to win, we need live animals, too.” He needed her, is what he needed. Right now, on the rug, on the couch, up against the wall.

  “I think you’re inviting chaos if you bring live animals in here.”

  He gazed at her, his sexual frustration fueling his frustration at not being able to create the display he was sure would win the damned prize. At this moment, it seemed to him everything was out of reach—Darcie, the prize, his cabinet shop. “Then I think we need to come up with another idea.”

  “How can we possibly do that? We have no time!”

  “I know we have no time, dammit! But do you want to win or not?”

  “Of course I do! According to Bart Junior’s mother, that bastard could show up at any minute, demanding his fatherly rights. So I desperately need the money—for my car, for school, and to fight Bart Junior in court if necessary.”

  Joe’s emotions swung from frustration to anger. “Don’t tell me that sorry excuse for a man would have a chance at getting Gus.” He wanted to believe she was exaggerating the danger rather than think such a horrible possibility actually existed.

  “Of course he stands a chance! He’s the biological father and he’ll have all the financial backing he needs from his parents.” Her voice quivered. “There’s even a chance they’d use this against me.”

  “This?”

  “Living here with you.”

  “That’s a business arrangement!” Joe could hardly stand the thought that instead of making life better for Darcie, he might have helped screw it up.

  She laid the robe and sleep shirt on the couch. “Then I hope you can come up with another idea for the display so we can support that position. Right now, I can’t think of a single thing. I’m tired, and I’m going to take a bath.”

  “A…a bubble bath?”

  “Yes. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” She stalked up the stairs.

  Oh, God. She was going to take a bath. Just like in his fantasy. He listened to the water running in the guest bathtub and fought the desire churning through him. Muttering an oath, he stomped over to the TV and turned it on, flicking through the channels until he found an old movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger.

  He sat in front of the violent movie not seeing it at all. Instead, his head was filled with images of Darcie, her cinnamon-freckled body sinking into a tub filled with thousands of shimmering, glistening bubbles. Terrific. He had no prizewinning concept, which meant they wouldn’t win. Darcie would be sitting with no funds and a questionable reputation, and he wouldn’t get his cabinet shop. And on top of that, he was sharing this house with a very sexy woman he didn’t dare touch. Life just didn’t get any better than that.

  DARCIE STEPPED INTO the just-right water with a sigh of relief. As she sank down to her neck in bubbles, she took a deep breath and vowed not to worry about anything for the next fifteen minutes.

  Her vow lasted for exactly fifteen seconds. What if she and Joe didn’t win the contest? Although she hadn’t wanted to admit it to Joe, she’d asked Trudy a few questions about the displays from previous years, and Darcie was no longer sure a live Nativity scene, even with the incomparable Gus center stage, was enough to win. Live animals might help, but she knew Joe would never get away with keeping them in the backyard all day without major damage to DeWitt’s property. Besides, the neighbors would probably file a protest because of the noise and the smell.

  Worse yet, Trudy had begun dropping large hints that Bart Junior would soon return from the Amazon and assume his place as Gus’s father. Darcie would rather have an aardvark assume that place. A picture of Joe in that role flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away. Triplets. He’d been burned out on babies by the time he was seventeen. No help there.

  A knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Darcie, are you in there?”

  She sank farther down in the tub, suddenly aware of her naked state and the sl
im piece of wood separating her from Joe. “No, indeedy, I’m not in here. I’ve slid right down the drain like a water sprite. Only my voice remains, calling up through the pipes.”

  “Listen, don’t be discouraged about the display.”

  His voice brought a ripple of reaction from her body. “Who says I’m discouraged?”

  “I saw the look on your face. And I know you’re worried about the money situation.” He paused. “Look, if we don’t win, I won’t be able to go in with my cousin anyway, so I won’t need my savings. I’d be glad to loan you—”

  “Stop right there.” The gesture made her want to cry. And after she cried, she would get out of the tub, open the door and invite him in. She couldn’t do any of those things. “I could never take your hard-earned savings, Joe.”

  “Why not? It’ll only sit there moldering. And even if we don’t win, I want you to go back to school, or take Bart Junior to court, or whatever you need the money for. I want you to have the security of knowing you can count on that much at least.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t take his money, but she was incredibly moved that he’d offered. Such an offer from Joe, who had scrimped to put together a nest egg, was a hundred times different from that same offer coming from Trudy, who had tons of money and was filled with ulterior motives.

  “We’re going to win that money,” she said.

  “Do you have an idea?” His voice rose hopefully.

  “Sort of.” Her mind was a blank except for the hot need for Joe’s arms around her, but maybe she’d think of something. She had to think of something. She didn’t want to suffer through all this frustration for nothing. “I’ll sleep on it and we can talk in the morning. And thanks again for the offer, Joe. You’re a sweetheart.”

  “Oh, maybe not.”

  “Why?”

  “I could have made that offer in the morning instead of using it as an excuse to come up here and talk to you while I pictured you lying naked in that bubble bath. Good night, Darcie.”

  TRUDY BUTTERWORTH WASN’T in the habit of calling to get information. Madge was supposed to report in to her, but Madge wasn’t living up to her responsibilities. Finally, Trudy picked up the phone and dialed Madge’s number.

  When Madge answered, Trudy didn’t waste any time on superficial small talk. “What the devil’s going on? Why haven’t I heard from you?”

  “Technical problems,” Madge said in a low voice. “I can’t be real specific because I’m on the kitchen phone and you-know-who is right in the next room. But it seems the deluxe version got held up in transit and the cheaper version went belly-up yesterday. I have squat.”

  “You mean to tell me that they’ve been in that house together for several hours, and you have nothing?”

  “I gave you something.” Madge sounded out of sorts. “I’ve confirmed that they’re now living together, didn’t I? And I’m keeping a constant watch for celebrities. Until the deluxe version arrives, it’s the best I can do.”

  Trudy sighed. “I guess so. It’s just that I so want something dramatic to let Bart Junior know he’s being replaced. Something to awaken his territorial instincts. I told him that Darcie’s involved with someone else the last time he called, and he didn’t react the way I expected he would. I thought he’d be consumed with jealousy, but he doesn’t seem to be.” His behavior was a trifle embarrassing. He needed to come home and take his place as the father of Trudy’s grandchild, but he didn’t seem to realize that. Much more of this dillydallying on his part and she might be forced to cut off his allowance.

  “You want a tape of them doing it, don’t you?” Madge said.

  Trudy made a face. Madge sounded entirely too excited about that concept. And yet, such a tape might turn Bart Junior around. “It’s a thought.”

  “Leave it to me. Once that deluxe version arrives, I can provide you with all the groans and moans you want.”

  JOE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING to the sound of a fiddle and a banjo plucking merrily away downstairs. The music wasn’t loud, but it sounded live. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find that Darcie had invited a couple of Irish musicians for breakfast and a jam session, so he pulled on briefs and jeans before venturing to the first floor.

  Halfway down the stairs, he paused and eased himself to a sitting position on the carpeted steps, unwilling to interrupt the scene unfolding below.

  The music came from DeWitt’s expensive sound system in the living room, not a live band. But the entertainment was real. Darcie and Gus were dancing a jig.

  They looked as if they’d come straight out of a Disney movie—a cherub and a wood sprite kicking up their heels for the sheer joy of it. Gus wore only his diaper and Darcie had on stretchy exercise wear in kelly-green, the perfect color contrast to her red-orange mop of hair. The tight fabric also emphasized every curve that he was supposed to ignore, and those curves were moving. Sunlight streaming in the large windows created a natural spotlight for the performance.

  As Joe watched in total fascination and more than a little lust, Darcie whirled Gus up in her arms and bounced him on her hip as she kicked in time to the music. Then she set him back on his feet, linking her hands with his and holding him upright.

  While she sang the cheerful words to a song Joe didn’t recognize, she swayed rhythmically. All parts of her swayed rhythmically. Wow. Joe quietly drew in a deep breath and decided to watch Gus so he could cool off some.

  Stomping his bare feet and bobbing his rear end in perfect time, Gus grinned up at her in the purest expression of delight Joe had ever seen. He really was cute, with his fiery cap of hair, his round little tummy and his chubby arms and legs. That’s how babies sucked you in, Joe thought. They looked so adorable that you forgot how much work they were. But he knew. He knew.

  The tempo increased, and Darcie picked the baby up again. Balancing him on her hip, she executed some amazing footwork while Gus bounced and crowed his approval. The music ended in a flurry of banjo chords. Giggling and breathless, Darcie collapsed with Gus on the cream-colored carpet.

  Without realizing he meant to do it, Joe started applauding.

  Darcie looked up and blushed. “The music woke you.”

  “I needed to get up anyway.” And boy, was he up.

  “I tried to keep it low, but Gus loves our little dance in the mornings, and I hated to disappoint him.”

  “No problem.” More in control now, he stood and came the rest of the way down the stairs. The sunlight did fantastic things to her hair, making it flash and sparkle. And the exercise had made her cheeks pink—brought a bloom to them, he figured the Irish would say. She’d filled his dreams all night, but the real Darcie was much more potent than a dream lover.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve moved all Mr. DeWitt’s breakable objects up out of Gus’s reach for the time being.”

  “That’s fine.” When she looked so flushed and desirable, she could have said she’d thrown them all in the trash and he wouldn’t have cared.

  “And I’ve shoved the furniture up against the lamp cords so he can’t reach them in case I let him crawl around in here.”

  “Good idea.”

  Gus gazed up at Joe with a solemn expression. We’ve taken over the place, blarney breath. Deal with it.

  Joe hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “You’re quite a dancer, Darcie.”

  Look at that he-man stance, will you now? Here it comes. More sheep-dip.

  “My da taught me, so I’m teaching Gus. I think he inherited his grandfather’s rhythm.”

  Also his way with the ladies. Watch and learn. Gus turned his face up to Darcie’s and smiled, exposing his four teeth.

  She leaned down and kissed both cheeks soundly.

  “He seems to have good timing all right,” Joe said. “And dancing babies are in right now. Maybe you should give him a top hat and a cane and put him on the circuit.”

  “Maybe I should. I’d better not tell Geraldine or she’ll have him wearing a to
p hat in no time.” She looked up at Joe.

  Gus watched her face. Uh-oh. When she gets that look in her eye, like butter’s churning in her noggin, trouble’s coming, sure as the Lord made little fishes.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Joe asked.

  “A black top hat,” she said with a grin.

  Joe nodded. “The year 2000 on a sash.”

  She hoisted Gus in the air like a fresh mug of beer. “Look,” she said. “It’s Baby New Year!”

  10

  DARCIE CAME HOME from her cleaning job late the next afternoon to discover that the cow was gone and Joe had finished putting the baby gates in place, one at the top of the stairs and one at the bottom. She was free to put Gus down to crawl in the living room.

  With a sigh of relief, she did exactly that, watching him scuttle around the cream-colored carpet exploring every nook and cranny. About the time Gus had worked his way over to the entryway, she heard a key in the front door lock.

  She made it to the door in time to snatch Gus from harm’s way. Sure enough, the door swung wide, smacking against the stopper on the wall as Joe walked in, two bags of fast food in his hands.

  “Your hair’s practically standing on end,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

  Darcie struggled for breath. “You nearly made a pancake of Gus when you flung open the door like that.”

  Gus babbled and waved both hands. If I’m going to get smashed, I prefer to do it with a pint of Guinness.

  “Oh.” Joe glanced back at the door and winced. “Sorry. I didn’t even think. It’s been a few years.” He looked crestfallen.

  Now that the adrenaline rush was over, Darcie regretted laying any of the blame on him. “Never mind. It’s my responsibility to watch out for him, not yours.”

  In other words, she doesn’t think you’re the sharpest tool in the shed.

  “He’s not only your responsibility, Darcie. I invited both of you into this house, and damned if I want either of you hurt as a result.”

  She appreciated his protective instincts, but she wondered if he was including broken hearts in that sweeping statement.