Of course, summer was little more than a memory now. Before long, it would be time to put up the Christmas lights. When he’d thought about tackling that chore, he realized he had some peeling paint that needed attention. Such was the life of a carpenter. He poured most of his man-hours into renovating other people’s homes. His own place came way down the list.
As he dipped his paintbrush in the can balanced precariously on the top of the ladder, something disturbed his concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the house next door. Lila’s house. A house he once knew all too well.
It didn’t matter. He was over her. Completely. The two of them had been a fire that burned hot and bright, leaving only ashes. It was for the best. Lila was too uptight, too driven, too everything.
Still, something was going on. Lila’s silver Subaru was parked in its usual spot in the concrete driveway. But it was far too early for her to be arriving home from work. He gave up the pretense of painting and watched as she got out of the car.
She was tall and curvy and had long blond curls that no amount of hair spray could tame. Lila had the body of a pinup girl and the brains of an accountant—a lethal combo. Then came his second clue that things were out of kilter. Lila was wearing jeans and a Windbreaker. On a Monday.
He could have ignored all of that. Honestly, he was fine with the status quo. Lila had her job as vice president of the local bank, and James had the pleasure of dating women who were uncomplicated. Not bimbos. He had his standards, after all. There was nothing wrong, though, with a guy having fun.
Did it matter if his most recent girlfriend thought Kazakhstan was a new heavy metal band? Not every woman had to be a rocket scientist.
As he watched, Lila closed the driver’s door and opened the door to the backseat. Leaning in, she gave him a tantalizing view of a nicely rounded ass. He’d always had a thing for butts. Lila’s was first-class.
Suddenly, all thoughts of butts and sex and his long-ago love affair with his frustrating neighbor flew out the window. Because when Lila straightened, she was holding a baby.
* * *
Lila had a blistering headache. It didn’t help that James Kavanagh was watching her every move. He didn’t even try to hide his interest. Sometimes she thought he deliberately worked outside so she could see his gorgeous body and obsess about everything she had lost.
Today she didn’t care. Today she was in deep doo-doo. The humor in that comparison barely even registered.
Grabbing Sybbie’s little body in a death grip so the squirmy infant wouldn’t slide though her arms, Lila marched across the yard. At the base of James’s ladder, she paused and stared up at him. “I need help,” she said bluntly. “Will you come down so we can talk?”
If he agreed, it would be the first time in almost three years that the two of them had carried on more of a conversation than “nice day” or “your mail’s on the porch.” They tolerated each other. Politely. Which was not an easy thing to do when you had seen a man naked.
She closed that door firmly. “James?”
He appeared to be frozen. Suddenly, he dropped his paintbrush in the bucket and wiped his hands. “Of course.”
As he descended the ladder, she was forced to back up. James was a big guy. Not fat. Oh, no. Not an ounce of spare flab anywhere on his six-foot-three-inch body. His brothers called him the gentle giant. It was an apt description.
James had the physique of a man who could break boulders with his bare hands. Muscular, broad-shouldered and impressively strong, he was a man’s man. He also happened to be incredibly tender when making love to a woman who was half his size, but that was information from another time, another place, another Lila.
He stared at the baby, his expression inscrutable. “What’s up, Lila? Who’s this little charmer?” His thick, wavy, chestnut hair was overdue for a trim.
“Her name is Sybbie. My half sister died. She and her boyfriend. In a car accident.” It was still difficult to talk about, still impossible to believe.
“God, honey. I’m so sorry.”
She swallowed hard, almost undone by the genuine sympathy and concern in his rich brown eyes and deep voice. “I hadn’t seen her in a decade. She didn’t like me very much. But for some reason, she named me in her will as the baby’s guardian. Sybbie is almost eight months old.”
James’s intense scrutiny made her nervous. “And you accepted?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice in the short term. There may be other options. But for now, I have her.”
“I see.” She felt his doubt almost tangibly. James knew her feelings about children. It was part of the reason they had split up. “So, why do you need to talk to me?”
“My house needs some modifications.”
“For a short-term situation?”
“I am a responsible adult. I won’t endanger a baby simply because it inconveniences me. My bedroom is on the top floor. I want to turn the dining room into a nursery, and I’ll move into the downstairs bedroom.”
“Makes sense.”
His grudging approval eased some of the tightness in her chest. “Do you have time in your schedule to do what needs to be done?” James bought houses and flipped them. His work was meticulous. Many of the finest homes in the historic district had been restored by James.
“I’ll have to juggle some things, but I think I can make it work. Who’s going to keep the kid?”
It was a fair question and an obvious one. The only fully licensed child care center in Silver Glen took babies when they were twelve months or older. “I’ve used my paid time off for bereavement and more than a week of my two-week vacation, counting today. But I have four days left.”
“Four days? What about maternity leave?” His raised eyebrow made her feel guilty for no good reason.
“That will only kick in if I actually adopt Sybbie. The auditors will be here next Monday. I can’t miss that. I’ll figure out something.”
James stared at her. She refused to fidget. Working in the upper echelons of a profession traditionally dominated by men had taught her to look unshakeable even when she was nervous on the inside.
When he still didn’t speak, she snapped at him. “What?”
James’s shoulders lifted and fell in a deep sigh. “Caring for an eight-month-old is a lot of work.” He wasn’t merely tossing out platitudes. All six of his brothers were married, and most of them had kids. The youngest Kavanagh sibling was a beloved uncle. She had seen that with her own two eyes...a hundred years ago when she had been James’s girlfriend for a tempestuous three months.
He was right to have doubts about her. But at the moment, she didn’t see any other options. “I know that,” she said quietly, refusing to be hurt by his unspoken assessment of her nurturing talents. “I’m not afraid of hard work. Will you come next door with me and let me show you what I’m thinking?”
“Sure.”
He strode beside her as they crossed from his handkerchief-sized lawn to hers. The next embarrassing moment was not being able to unlock the front door while holding the baby.
James took the little girl without asking. At last the stupid key turned and they were able to go inside. The house hadn’t changed at all since the last time James was here. But he didn’t utter a single comment to make her uncomfortable. An observer would have noticed nothing in his demeanor to suggest that he and Lila had once made love leaning over the sturdy, oak dining room table.
Her cheeks heated. “Through here,” she muttered.
Sybbie seemed enamored with the new man in her life. She was a quiet, easy child, her temperament sunny unless she was tired or hungry.
Lila stopped in the kitchen doorway. “I don’t really need a dining room, anyway. I never use it. After Sybbie is gone, the nursery could always be turned into a small den or a sitting room for
the guest room.”
James rubbed the baby’s downy head. She had hair that was white-blond, her pink cheeks completing the look of a chubby angel. “How long will that be, Lila? Do you even know?”
“I told you. I’m not sure.” And there was the rub. Because for Lila to function at maximum capacity, she really needed to be sure. About everything. Uncertainty drove her nuts. Since the moment she’d received the heart-wrenching phone call about her sister’s death, life had been nothing but uncertainty.
James took a step away, allowing her to breathe normally. He examined load-bearing walls, scribbled a few measurements on a scrap of paper and paced off the dimensions of the dining room. All the while holding the baby as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
At last, he turned. “Shouldn’t be a problem. But you and Sybbie will need to move over to my place for a couple of nights. When I’m sledgehammering walls, it won’t be safe for you or the baby to breathe the air.”
“What about you?”
“I wear a mask when I’m doing demolition.”
“I’m sure I could go to a hotel for a few nights.” The thought of sleeping under James’s roof again gave her hives.
His scowl told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of the hotel idea. That had been one of their problems actually. James had a maddening habit of telling people what to do. The two of them had butted heads over the issue time and again.
“Be reasonable, Lila,” he said, clearly trying for a conciliatory tone. “A hotel is no place for a baby. I have a refrigerator for formula and everything you could possibly need, save a baby bed. But you were going to have to buy that, anyway.”
What he said made perfect sense. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. “James, um...well, considering our past...it would be—”
He held up his hand, his expression grim. “Let me stop you right there. The past is the past, Lila. You and I were a bad match from the beginning. But we both know that now. You’re a neighbor and a friend. That’s all. What happened three years ago has nothing to do with this.”
Her stomach curled. That was easy for him to say. James had moved on. And he hadn’t wasted any time. She’d seen him with a parade of women, each one more beautiful than the last. It wasn’t James’s feelings she was worried about. It was her own.
James Kavanagh had no interest in bedding her again. That was clear. But she still had feelings for him, even if most of those feelings were hormones. It would be incredibly foolhardy to put herself in his path. She had Sybbie to think of now. She couldn’t afford more heartbreak.
The trouble was, she was fresh out of options. James’s suggestion made perfect sense. But she didn’t have to like it. “Fine,” she said, trying not to sound huffy. “We’ll take you up on your kind invitation.”
His nod was terse. “Not tonight. I have a project I promised to finish up in the morning. But I’ll help you move tomorrow evening. You can have the baby bed delivered to my house.”
“James Kavanagh. You know I can’t do that. Gossip spreads faster than kudzu around here.”
He shrugged. “So what? I think my reputation can handle it. Are you worried about your fancy bank job?”
His smart-ass tone made her see red. “You always hated my job, didn’t you?”
He leaned against the door frame, his dark-eyed gaze unreadable. “I never hated the job, Lila. I merely hated the fact that it consumed you. There’s more to life than work.”
“Says the man with a trust fund. Some of us need a little security.”
The sudden silence mushroomed between them. Here they were, three full years after the nuclear detonation of their relationship, still fighting the same tired battle.
James shook his head. “I didn’t mean to go there. I’m sorry.”
“Me, either. Maybe this will work better if we pretend we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think I’m that good of an actor, but I’ll try. What if you order the baby bed tomorrow morning, and I’ll pick it up after work?”
“And tonight?”
“You can keep her upstairs with you for one night. You have a king-size bed...right?”
“Yes.” He knew full well that she did, damn it. They had certainly made use of the big mattress and the spindled headboard.
“Put Sybbie in with you and tuck the covers as tightly as you can under the mattress. That way she won’t be able to roll out.”
“Okay. You’re right. That will be fine.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. Sybbie was almost asleep, her tiny eyelids drooping. “Is that all?” James asked. “I need to get back to work.”
Lila flushed. She had asked him to treat her like a virtual stranger. But she hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. “Of course,” she said brightly. “Let me take her from you.”
James seemed almost reluctant to give up the little girl. Maybe he thought Lila wasn’t capable of being a competent caregiver. When the baby passed from him to her, James’s fingers brushed Lila’s breasts. It was a simple contact. Unavoidable. Fleeting at best.
Even so, her body’s instinctive reaction told her the next few weeks were going to be a challenge. She’d gotten over James Kavanagh once. She didn’t have it in her to do it again.
Copyright © 2016 by Janice Maynard
ISBN-13: 9781488001918
Waking Up with the Boss
Copyright © 2016 by Sheree Henry-Whitefeather
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Waking Up with the Boss Page 17
