by Lisa Plumley
When it came to the whole infant-cuddling routine, Katie had been a newbie. Then. But Jack didn’t have to know that. And she sort of liked being an expert on something he valued. The glimmer of respect in his eyes made her secretly proud—and made up for the karaoke caroling she was missing, too.
Besides, Belle really was adorable. Her wispy hair, her long lashes, her tiny curled fists. Smiling, Katie nudged at one of those fists. The baby instantly grasped her hand, seeming to take comfort in the contact.
On a pleased breath, Katie glanced up. Jack was watching her…with a mysterious half-smile that stopped her in her tracks.
“What the heck is that look for?” she asked, feeling suddenly jittery. “What are you—”
“It’s for you,” Jack said. “You—and Belle.”
Jack couldn’t help but grin wider as Katie shook her head.
“Oh, no. No, you don’t. You’re not getting any crazy ideas, are you? Like making me head babysitter? Because if you are—”
“Look at you,” he insisted. “You’re a natural. Belle loves you.”
“I complimented her holly-berry holiday hair bow. Everyone likes someone who compliments what they’re wearing.”
“In that case…nice dress.”
“Nice try.”
“I mean it.”
He did. They both looked at the racy length of scarlet hemline visible beneath Katie’s armload of baby. Jack’s gaze traveled further, all the way down her remarkable legs to those look-at-me shoes. He nodded. “I really do.”
“Okay, I believe you. Physical attraction was never our problem. But despite that fact—”
“Have I mentioned how grateful I am for your help? Because I am. Thank you for coming back. I know how much it means to you to miss a party.”
Katie hesitated, as though unsure what to make of his remark. Then, she forged onward: “You’re welcome. But if you think you can sweet talk me into—”
“You must have some innate knack with babies,” Jack continued. Just realizing it, he felt immensely cheered. “Maybe it’s in your genes, or your double “X” chromosomes or something, because—”
“Hold on a minute, buster. Did Neanderthal Man just grunt his way in here, or did I actually hear you hypothesize that just because I’m a woman, I have some super-special baby-care ability?”
He shrugged. “Maybe you do.”
Her glare gave him the distinct impression she was holding back a growl. Or possibly a Santa-bag wallop. Whoops.
Backtracking seemed wise: “Or maybe you’ve had some experience with babies. I mean, don’t most teenaged girls babysit? How else can they afford lip gloss and boy-band CDs and—”
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe jobs? Just like the boys?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“When I was a teenager,” she persisted, “I was spending my weekends at the mall—”
Where lip gloss and CDs were sold. Jack couldn’t help but think this helped his argument.
“—folding sweaters at the Gap and eating greasy food court lunches. I worked!”
“So the lip gloss and the CDs and the—”
“Not the result of babysitting,” Katie confirmed. Her glacial look could have doused a flaming Yule log. The revelation behind it didn’t do much for Jack’s meager sense of baby-care confidence, either.
“But the Fendi bag baby-holding instructions,” he protested, gesturing toward her very comfortable grasp on Belle. “The remote control teething ring thing. The—” He stopped and raked a hand through his hair, then squinted at her. “The general baby-style expertise surrounding you…I don’t—”
At the word “expertise,” she brightened. Past the point of being misled by such a display, Jack continued:
“You mean to tell me you don’t know anything about babies?”
Katie drew herself up. “So far, I know more than you.”
“That’s not saying much. Everyone knows more than me.”
“Well, what did you expect?” she asked. “However, I am willing to help you. For tonight. So that’s a start.”
“For tonight?” This just got better and better. Sierra had said Gil and Amber’s flight could be delayed up to three days. Maybe longer. “I might be taking care of Belle all week. Until Christmas Eve.”
She glanced down, cooing to the baby. “Isn’t he lucky, to have you all week? It’ll be fun!”
Katie’s smile, when she looked up at Jack again, was brilliantly cheery. She angled her body a little away from him. Through clenched teeth, she added, “Ixnay on the arguing, okay? It isn’t good for Belle.”
“See?” Frustration made Jack pace a few steps across the reception area, then back. “I didn’t know that!”
“Okay, calm down. Just because I’m not an au pair in disguise—”
“A what?”
“—doesn’t mean we can’t handle this. Together.”
He stopped pacing. Gave her a no-nonsense look. “Are you sure you don’t know about babies? Didn’t you have a—a doll or something when you were a kid?”
Wearing a patient look, she shook her head.
“We’re doomed.”
“I did have a Barbie,” Katie ventured.
New hope rose within him.
“But of course, with Barbie the whole appeal is really just wowing Ken and the gang with fab new outfits, isn’t it?”
He stared.
“It’s not the same as pretend bottle-feeding a wee Baby Wetsalot. Not really.”
Her blithe, knowledgeable tone sucked him in yet again. “What’s the difference?” he asked cautiously.
“Well, cute pink plastic Barbie heels, for one thing. Did you know her feet are permanently on tiptoes?”
Jack gaped at her. She seemed perfectly content with the situation as it was. Confident, optimistic, even enthusiastic. Probably because caring for Belle wasn’t really her responsibility. As he shook his head, Katie caught sight of the gesture.
“Come on,” she said quietly. “What did you expect when you asked me to help? That I’d magically morph into Mary Poppins?”
He gave her a blank look.
“You mean you’ve never even seen Mary Poppins? Boy, is your cinematic history lacking.”
Jack was reminded of those differences in perspective that had precipitated the end of their interoffice fling. Forcing himself to concentrate on the issue at hand, he said, “We’re getting off track here. I need a commitment from you—”
“Now there’s a switch in the typical male repertoire.”
“—to help take care of Belle this week, or this isn’t going to work. I need to know I can count on you to help get the job done.”
“Sheesh. All business, aren’t you?”
He waited. There really wasn’t any reply to that, anyway.
“But then I should have expected that,” Katie muttered. Drawing in a deep breath, she gazed at the Christmas tree in the corner for a thoughtful moment. “Yes, I’ll help you. Of course. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
“You commit? All week?”
“What is this, The Inquisition? I said I’d help!”
“I’m not fooling around with Belle’s well-being. I might not know much, but I know I care about my cousin.”
Katie blinked. Her gaze, when she turned it on him again, looked suspiciously moist. “Do you mean that?”
Jack was aggravated she had to ask. “‘Course.”
“Awwww. That’s so sweet. I knew you were just a big mushball at heart. Now I’ve got proof.”
“Don’t go spreading it around. I know some things about you, too.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
Nodding, Jack gave her his most dangerous grin. “I would. Emergency party dress? Filed under “optional extras” in the Sierra Vista subdivision drawer. Spare nail polish? Tucked in with the exterior paint chips samples. Roster of favorite cocktail party guests? Culled mostly from the Brennan Homes client and subcontractor list.”
“Oka
y, okay. So I network a little. I happen to be very good at socializing. Is that a crime?”
It wasn’t. But he had her, and Jack knew it.
She sighed. A moment passed.
Katie shook her head. “We’ve got to be the two least likeliest people in the universe to take care of a baby.”
Her words were less than encouraging. But they were a concession, too. She was going to help. He felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders.
“Maybe the second-to-last least likeliest. We’re bound to be ahead of those people who glare at babies on airplanes.”
A ghost of a smile quirked her lips. She smoothed a wrinkle from Belle’s tiny dress with utmost care. Her voice was small when she spoke. “I hope we can do it.”
“We can do it,” Jack assured her. “Together, we can do anything.”
Her head came up. A hint of sadness darkened her eyes—sadness it hurt him to see. He’d have bet anything in the world they were thinking exactly the same thing:
Anything…except stay together.
Their gazes held; deepened. Jack couldn’t bring himself to look away. He and Katie were the same two people who’d loved…and lost, only months before. They were the same two people who’d been too different to really come together, for keeps. But now—now Belle had brought them together.
She was a tiny Christmas surprise, too small to understand the impact her arrival might have. Jack understood it, though. And in spite of himself…he hoped. Hoped things might be different, hoped some holiday magic might change things somehow.
Did Katie hope, too?
Looking at her, he couldn’t tell. Even as the question crossed his mind, she blinked and looked away. Balancing Belle on one hip, she picked up the schedule Sierra had left.
“We’d better get going,” she said. “According to this, it’s past Belle’s dinnertime.”
“I suppose a nice thick T-bone is too much to hope for?”
“She’s a baby, not a beagle.”
With a shrug, Jack began deconstructing the Bazooka pile-up for the drive home. “Hey, a guy’s got to hope.”
And that, he realized as he considered the days still ahead of him, was exactly what he was doing. He just couldn’t help it. He hoped for him, and Katie, together. For keeps.
Chapter Four
She still hadn’t outgrown her hope—her belief—that Christmastime could magically make things happen, Katie realized as she wrestled with a jar of strained peas at Jack’s bachelor digs later that night.
Despite being twenty-eight fun-filled years old, she still harbored a girlish belief that the holidays brought a special measure of goodwill and cheer and magic to ordinary life. And her recent trip between the office and Jack’s place (fraught as it had been with differences of opinion) had done nothing to change her mind.
Even as he’d insisted it was his place they go to (because “cousin” trumps “fashion advisor”), Katie had felt herself weakening toward him. Even as he’d insisted she meet them there with a change of clothes and spend the night (dangerous as that was), Katie had wondered where—exactly—he planned for her to sleep. And even as Jack had insisted, upon her arrival, that they’d keep things strictly baby-based between them, Katie had begun hoping, secretly, this was their gift-wrapped second-chance-in-disguise.
Jack, however, didn’t seem to be feeling any of the same mushy, gushy things she was. He sat on the family room floor with Belle on a baby blanket in front of him, surrounded by pink-hued supplies and frowning at the opened bag of disposable diapers. While she watched (and answered her cell phone for the fourth time that night) he snatched a third folded diaper and deftly opened it.
He looked from the diaper to a squirming Belle. Sunnily, the baby gave him a two-toothed grin, her good cheer probably related to her relief at having gotten rid of the dirty diaper she’d produced upon their arrival. Now, bare-bottomed and filled with energy, she clapped her hands and babbled.
“I knew I should have looked closer at the original diaper before taking it off,” Jack muttered. He looked at Belle. “Any hints?”
The baby kicked. Jingle bells jangled merrily.
“Right. Well, maybe if I don’t unfold it this time.”
He reached for another diaper, looking adorably perplexed and even more adorably determined. Really, pairing a hunky man with a cute, cuddly baby shouldn’t be allowed. Especially around susceptible single women. Because while wearing his work clothes and ruffled-up hair, and while biting his lip in concentration, Jack was somehow more appealing to Katie than he ever had been before.
Still, she couldn’t let him struggle. No matter how charming he might look while doing it. Refusing yet another party invitation, Katie hung up her phone and called to Jack.
“There are directions on the side of the bag,” she offered. “Maybe you should read them.”
He looked at her as though she’d suggested he gift-wrap himself and go caroling wearing nothing but a big, red bow. Which actually, now that she thought of it, sounded kind of sexy. Would he look best in red velvet or green—
“I don’t need to read the directions.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged. Definitely green satin, Katie decided with a wicked little tingle. It would coordinate so nicely with his dark hair. “I’ll just be over here fixing up the portable high chair, uh, thingie.”
His eyebrows raised. A smile crooked his lips. “Thingie? Is that the technical term?”
“It is so long as you’re taping that diaper to your fingertips.”
“Touché.”
Grinning, Katie successfully opened the strained peas. They were the color of a clearance-rack winter suit, and would probably be just as hard to unload. She carried them at arm’s length around Jack’s pristine Scandinavian style dining table, then set to work hooking the portable infant seat to its edge.
Several minutes later, she’d wrestled the thing into submission. Proudly, she brushed off her hands and surveyed her work. As she did, Jack approached. Her awareness of him hadn’t changed a bit. She could still detect his body heat at fifty paces. Damn it. Obviously her libido was a slow learner.
He cocked his head, studying the infant seat. Suddenly vulnerable, Katie braced herself for the inevitable teasing.
“Nice work,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open. Before she could so much as quit gaping in surprise, he’d turned to fetch Belle. Jack returned with the baby in his arms. He effortlessly assessed the engineering of the infant seat and strapped his cousin in.
“You’ve got a knack for that,” Katie told him.
He smiled over his shoulder. She felt an answering grin edge onto her own lips, prompted by the cozy feeling they shared. Maybe this would work after all, she thought. Maybe they wouldn’t drive each other crazy by Christmas Eve.
Naturally, that was when she noticed it:
The problem.
Jack had seated himself in a chair beside Belle and had coaxed the baby into opening up for her first bite of…well, it looked a lot like mush, when Katie spoke.
“Where are your Christmas decorations?” she asked.
Her tone was like that of a department store Santa who’d just realized his assistant “elves” had gone on strike. Amazement wrapped in dismay pretty much summed it up.
“Don’t have any,” he said, giving Belle another spoonful. She stuck out her tongue, making the primordial goo that passed for dinner squish onto her chin. “I usually spend Christmas Day with family at my Mom and Dad’s house. Believe me, it’s got Christmas cheer to spare. A fake Santa and sleigh atop the gravel and desert landscaping in the front yard, strings of lights on the ocotillos, A/C cranked down to fifty degrees, roasted chestnuts on the gas fireplace—”
“But, but—your house—”
“No need to decorate.” He shrugged. “I get all the holiday feeling a guy could want at Mom and Dad’s. Besides, I like it this way.”
Katie gazed around her, taking in his renovated Fifties ranch-styl
e house. To judge by her expression, there was something seriously wrong with two bedrooms, a bath, picture windows overlooking a quiet central Phoenix neighborhood—and walls devoid of plastic Christmas wreaths. Obviously, she’d been hoping for It’s A Wonderful Life and had gotten Scrooged instead.
She shook her head. “This simply won’t do.”
“What do you—aaack!”
Belle giggled over the baby raspberry that had just spewed strained peas all over his head and shoulders. As he wiped away the ooze, Jack spotted Katie purposefully carrying her Santa bag to the table. She rifled through it, her face determined.
A travel-sized container of hair mousse emerged. He raised his eyebrows. Mostly goo-free now, he repeated, “What do you mean?”
“I mean this won’t do. Not for you, and especially not for Belle. How’s she supposed to have a happy holiday week, when your house looks like something out of Architectural Digest?”
He brightened.
She shook her head. “It’s so minimalist in here, the entire Macy’s Christmas department could explode in your living room and it would still look under decorated.”
“Hey!”
“It’s not Belle’s fault she’s stuck here for her very first pre-Christmas holiday week. And it’s not fair to penalize her with your festivity-challenged idea of ‘decorating.’”
Completely in earnest, Katie gave the baby a sorrowful look. “Don’t worry, little Belle. You either, Jack. I’ve got a solution.”
He glanced at the mousse. “What, you’re going to style the place into submission? I’ve got news for you. I think my sofa’s leather upholstery is past the point of achieving body, control, and fabulous fullness.”
She pursed her lips. He couldn’t help noticing they still looked luscious. God help him.
“Very funny.” She plunked a pair of manicure scissors beside the mousse. “Have you got any plain white paper?”
“In the office.” He angled his head toward the hallway, in the direction of the second bedroom he’d converted into a home work space. “First door on the right. Help yourself.”
Katie was already on her way, answering yet another cell phone call as she did. Bemused, Jack used Belle’s spoon to corral some runaway smooshed peas and nudge them into the baby’s mouth again. This time, she smacked her lips with apparent delight and swallowed the whole mess. Hey, that was progress.
