Your Baby Or Mine?

by Marie Ferrarella

  Alec let her lead the way, thinking it safer to remain in the rear rather than to make the trip up side-by-side again.

  He thought wrong.

  A rear view was just as unsettling in its own way as having her body move innocently along his had been. There was no doubt about it, the lady was in great shape. It would make keeping up with Andrea easier.

  Although, Alec was beginning to get the feeling, that was probably the only thing that was going to get easier for him.

  Just as she opened the door, Marissa heard a thud and then a laugh of glee from within. She hurried into the room just in time to scoop Christopher up. He was on the other side of the playpen and, from his expression, hell-bent for mayhem.

  Alec stared at the empty playpen. “Wasn’t he just in there?”

  Marissa laughed, relieved that she had got here in time. She kissed Christopher’s soft little cheek. It was sticky. Now what had he found to get into?

  “Yes, he was. We’re just going to have to call you Houdini from now on, Chris.” She turned to look at Alec. “Last night I woke up to find that he had managed to get out of his crib.” Thank God she was a light sleeper. “And he was so proud of himself.” She nuzzled the boy in her arms. “Weren’t you?” He giggled and she nuzzled his neck harder, eliciting an entire peal of squeals. “Weren’t you?”

  Alec looked on, thinking how nice it had to be, to feel that sort of love surrounding you. Christopher was one lucky kid. Alec would have gladly given his soul if his own mother had been only a tenth as attentive as Marissa when he was growing up.

  “Why don’t you hang on to David Copperfield there and I’ll take the last box down?” He passed her, walking into the bedroom.

  Marissa looked after him. “But it’s still raining,” she protested.

  Hefting the carton, Alec came out of the bedroom. This one felt even heavier than the first had. It took effort not to grimace.

  “I promise not to drown until I get your books into the van.”

  She placed Christopher back in the playpen. “I wasn’t worried about the books.”

  He paused, leaning the carton against the wall and using it as a buffer. “You don’t have to worry about me, either.”

  Cheerfully, she dismissed his words. “Sorry, it’s not something I can turn on and off. I worry about people.”

  He knew he shouldn’t go any further with this, but he did. “In general?”

  “Yes.”

  Her answer surprised him. It should have made him feel better. He wasn’t exactly sure why it didn’t. “Then, I suppose it’s all right. As long as it’s nothing personal.”

  Marissa cocked her head, intrigued. “And if it were?”

  His eyes were solemn. “That wouldn’t be a good thing.”

  He was putting her on notice, she thought. “Duly noted.” Out of the corner of her eye, Marissa saw Christopher begin a second attempt to escape his prison by using blocks for stepping stones. She removed them. “Stay put,” she warned her son.

  Alec shook his head. “And if I said the same thing to you?”

  Marissa ignored him as she crossed to the door, umbrella in hand. “You’re not paying me yet, so I don’t have to listen.” One hand on the umbrella, she gestured for Alec to walk out first.

  Something told him that whether or not he paid her had nothing to do with it. Marissa Rogers did what she wanted when she wanted. He wondered if hiring her and bringing her into his life was such a good idea after all.

  But he had made a commitment and right now he had no other recourse. He only hoped, as he caught another whiff of her fragrance, that he wouldn’t wind up regretting this somewhere down the road.

  Chapter Six

  The scent roused him, creeping into his dreams like a thief and stealing sleep away, bringing his body to attention before his mind was ever engaged.

  At first it was her scent. Marissa’s. The one he’d just barely detected last night in the car. Sweet, tangy, arousing. A scent to make a man dream of lying in a lush green meadow and of a woman to lay beside him.

  Gradually, the scent faded, to be replaced by another stronger one that called to him almost as urgently, addressing other parts, other hungers.

  Coffee.

  He had to be hallucinating.

  There was no other word for it. Why else would he be smelling the rich, wonderful aroma of coffee? He had to be hallucinating. Either that, or his dreams had suddenly taken on the parameters of virtual reality..

  In either case, he was awake now. Wide awake. Alec glanced at the clock. Awake a full twenty minutes before the alarm was scheduled to go off. Well, schedule or not, he might as well get up.

  Scrubbing his hands over his face slowly, Alec reluctantly surrendered the last dregs of sleep and sat up. As he did, he felt a sharp twinge in his back. Served him right for trying to do too much last night. He should have waited, maybe called Steve or Nat to come help him with the heavier pieces. An unexpected streak of machismo had urged him to do it himself, despite common sense and the rain.

  Maybe he’d just been showing off, he mused. Behaving like a teenager again instead of a responsible man on the inside track of thirty.

  In any event he’d done it, he’d gotten all of her things out of the apartment. He’d even managed to get Christopher’s chest of drawers down the stairs and, with Marissa’s help, into the van, before the rains suddenly turned torrential. The chest of drawers was the last, and heaviest, piece. They’d packed up the crib first, but it was a collapsible one and much easier to carry in comparison.

  Because the rain refused to let up through the remainder of the evening, moving her things out of the van and into the guest quarters was temporarily postponed. Marissa had taken out only what she needed for the night. Since the quarters were furnished, she and Christopher had spent the night on the bed. She’d assured Alec that there was no need to bring up the crib until after the monsoon was over.

  He’d been greatly relieved to hear that. Leaving Marissa to get acquainted with her new surroundings, Alec had gone to Roberta’s to pick up his daughter. With his last shred of energy, he’d put Andrea to bed.

  Placing one exhausted foot in front of the other, he’d fallen into bed himself, asleep before he hit the pillow. His last thought had been about Marissa, wondering how she liked her new home.

  He’d only been vaguely aware that he had substituted the word home for quarters.

  Miraculously, Andrea had let him sleep through the night by doing the same. She’d seemed so full of energy when he’d picked her up at Roberta’s, he’d been afraid she’d be up all night. But as if sensing that he wasn’t up to dealing with any prolonged problems, Andrea had settled in and fallen asleep almost as quickly as he had.

  It had been a night for miracles, he thought, getting out of bed.

  He could swear that the scent of coffee was following him like a haunting refrain, but that was probably just brought about by wishful thinking. He would have killed for a good cup right now.

  He also wished that he could rid himself of the lingering effect of his dream, but it slipped around him like an invisible, slick coating, refusing to disappear completely.

  He’d dreamed of a woman, a woman whose face he couldn’t make out. A woman whose laughter seemed to seep into his soul, unsettling him. Warming him. At first he thought he was dreaming of Christine again. He’d dreamed of her almost every night when she had first died. But that had slowly abated until, eventually, the dreams had stopped altogether.

  This one wasn’t about Christine. It was about someone else.

  Someone, he told himself, he’d probably seen in a movie or a TV commercial. There was no use dwelling on it. It would go away on its own. Even now, the effects seemed to be fading a bit.

  Alec showered and shaved in less than fifteen minutes. Getting dressed only took another five. Throughout it all he was amazed that there was still no sound from Andrea’s room.

  Maybe she was sick. He frowned, taking his jacket wi
th him as he left his bedroom. Great way to break in the new nanny, leaving her with a sick baby.

  Maybe he’d cancel his meeting today and stay home with her. If Andy was sick, she’d need him. He tucked his tie under his collar, smoothing it down.

  Damn, he couldn’t cancel. There were buyers flying in from all over the country, not to mention an important backer, and he was one of the principle presenters. Murphy’s law. He was on the cusp of a marathon week and a half with a sick baby on his hands. Thank God, he’d found Marissa in time.

  Knotting his tie, he walked into Andrea’s room. Maybe he was just overreacting. He supposed it was to be expected. Some of Roberta’s blood did run in his veins. Maybe Andy had suddenly begun to sleep late.

  “Up and at ’em, Andy. Time to get up.”

  Alec stopped abruptly. Andrea’s crib was empty.

  Instantly he thought the worst. Life had done that to him. He remembered reading about a man breaking into a home while a family was at dinner and trying to abduct one of the children right in front of everyone. What if someone had snuck in during the night and taken Andrea while he was sleeping in the next room?

  Hurrying down the stairs, Alec was almost at the front door, on his way to get Marissa, when the smell of food finally registered.

  Bacon. Fresh coffee. Someone was cooking. He sincerely doubted that the kidnapper had stopped to fix himself something to eat.

  Relief warred with disbelief as Alec retraced his steps and turned toward the kitchen. He found Marissa there, with three frying pans on the stove, all going at the same time. Both children were up, dressed and seated in high chairs that were strategically separated just far enough so that neither could reach the other.

  For a moment all Alec could do was stand there, looking. Being grateful and feeling just a little bit foolish. It had to be the stress of the past few months catching up to him and throwing his imagination into overtime.

  This was one story he wasn’t about to share with anyone in the office.

  Frying pan in hand, poised over a plate, Marissa looked up to see Alec standing in the doorway, watching her. How long had he been there? She quickly transferred food from all three pans onto two plates and deposited the pans into the sink.

  She smiled at him brightly. “Good morning.”

  Her greeting was cheerful and sweet enough to be poured over pancakes. Alec walked in, feeling as if he had just entered someone else’s dream.

  “Good morning,” he echoed. He eyed the pans. “What are you doing?”

  She took out two sets of knives and forks. The children had already been fed and were now playing with their empty dishes, finger-painting with what was left on their trays.

  “My job. Did you forget? You hired me last night.” She set a glass of orange juice in front of him.

  She was making herself at home almost too easily, moving around his kitchen as if she’d always been here. None of the other women he’d hired before Marissa had fit in nearly half so well. He wasn’t entirely certain if he could adjust to that.

  “Yes. To watch Andrea,” he reminded her. Not to double as a cook.

  “Well, there she is.” Marissa gestured grandly toward the little girl, an amused smile playing on her lips. “I’m watching her.”

  That wasn’t all she was doing. Stimulated by the aroma, his mouth was beginning to water. “What’s that wonderful smell?”

  She smiled. There was nothing like being busy in the kitchen first thing in the morning. It gave her a sense of being in control and calmed her. “Breakfast.”

  Yes, it certainly was, he thought, looking down at the plate she placed in front of him on the table. He’d come to regard one slice of toast, usually burnt, as breakfast. This was close to a feast as far as he was concerned.

  “That wasn’t part of your job,” he stated.

  She couldn’t tell if he was pleased or annoyed. Well, at least he wasn’t demanding, she thought.

  “No, but I was sort of hoping that eating was.” Marissa put out a second plate for herself. “You were asleep and I didn’t want to bother you with every little detail. So I just got Andrea dressed, then brought her down for breakfast with Christopher.”

  He looked at the empty plates. Christopher was about to wear his. Marissa pried the food out of his fingers and gave him a piece of her French toast. Christopher began squeezing it.

  Alec raised his eyes to hers. “They’ve already eaten?”

  “Most of it. They insisted on wearing what didn’t make its way into their mouths.” A towel was carelessly slung over one of her shoulders. The edge had several stains derived from cleaning up Andrea’s and Christopher’s breakfasts. “I decided to have breakfast myself. I made you some while I was at it.”

  Alec appreciated it, but he didn’t want her to think he expected her to do this all the time. “You didn’t have to.”

  “No extra trouble. It is your refrigerator.” She moved the plate of French toast, eggs and bacon a little closer to him. “You do like to eat in the morning, don’t you?”

  Alec sat down as if his knees had suddenly lost the ability to lock. The aromatic fragrance had completely undone him. Or was that the scent she was wearing? It mingled with something that was already growing murky and distant in his mind.

  “I do, but I’d given it up. I never seemed to be able to cook and get Andy ready at the same time.”

  She wondered if he took catsup with his eggs. She hoped not. It would spoil the subtle flavoring she’d added. “Well, now you won’t have to. I love to cook and you have a wonderful kitchen. It’s so roomy.”

  As if to demonstrate, Marissa turned completely around, her arms outstretched. He thought he was watching Julie Andrews in the opening credits of The Sound of Music. Any second, he expected her to burst into song. But all she did was pour him a cup of coffee.

  There was no “all” about it. The coffee, black as the darkest shade of velvet, tasted just as smooth as he sampled it. He could feel the caffeine kicking in instantly.

  He almost drained his cup. It was heavenly. Setting it down, he looked at her, astonished. “Where did you learn how to make coffee like this?”

  Her eyes shone. “The day I was born, one of the three fairies standing over my bassinet said a spell over me. She promised I would always be able to make wonderful coffee and bring strong men to their knees with it.”

  “Let me guess. Sleeping Beauty.” He finished the cup. “I can believe it. This is probably the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

  “Well, then, have some more.” Marissa refilled his cup, then poured some for herself. “Actually, I picked up a little secret to making it, in Turkey.”

  He couldn’t place what gave it that extra rich flavor. “What is it?”

  She smiled mischievously. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret now, would it?”

  “Turkey,” he repeated. “Really?”

  She nodded. Andrea dropped her spoon. It bounced on the floor and went under the table. Marissa bent to pick it up. “Part of my father’s travels around the world.”

  Maybe that was why she could adapt to her surroundings so well. It was ingrained. Alec wondered if she’d liked all that uprooting and traveling. It would have been hell for him.

  “Must have been hard on you, moving from place to place.”

  “It was.” She wiped off Andrea’s spoon with her napkin and gave it back to the girl. “But I got used to it. It was either that, or shrivel up.” She shrugged good-naturedly. “I had brothers and sisters to take care of, so there was no time to think about how lonely I was. Besides, with them around, I wasn’t all that lonely.” They’d all taken their cue from her, so she’d had to maintain a cheerful facade. She’d done it so well, she wound up fooling herself in the bargain. Marissa’s smile faded a little as she remembered. “It was harder on my mother.”

  “Didn’t she have those same brothers and sisters to take care of? And you?”

  It was too long a story to get into, even if she want
ed to share it. But she was protective of those she loved, even if they were blemished.

  “She had a lot in common with your mother. I don’t think she was meant to be one. It was just something that happened.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. Most of the scars had long since healed. She saw things differently now. “Actually, I happened.” She avoided his eyes, although she felt them on her. “My father did the ‘honorable’ thing at the time and married her. I don’t think either one of them ever forgave the other, or me, for that.”

  Alec started to say something, but she didn’t want him to. She shouldn’t have said anything. “So, how is it?” She nodded at his plate.

  Above everything else, he could respect privacy. The meal was a nice, neutral topic. “Excellent. It’s all excellent.” He finished off the French toast. “If I hadn’t hired you as a nanny, I would have begged you to become my cook.”

  “Do you have one?” He hadn’t mentioned any other people living here or coming in during the day, but then, maybe that was something he didn’t think he had to tell her about.

  “No,” he laughed. He was only speaking figuratively. He was a fair enough cook to take care of his own needs, and Andrea’s. With her it was still mostly a matter of heating up jars of baby food.

  Because he didn’t ask, she volunteered. She liked having a choice. “You do now. For the duration of our working relationship,” she added in case he thought she was moving a little too quickly. He had looked uneasy, finding her here.

  Alec sat back to look at her. She was rather an amazing woman. “You intend to be a nanny, teach classes, take classes, be a mother and cook?”

  He did make it sound a little overwhelming, but then, the impossible always had an appeal for her. “Yes, and in the afternoon, I’ll bend steel in my bare hands and juggle apples with my feet.”

  Alec laughed and some of the tension left his body. “I’d like to see that.”

  “I’ll let you know when the next show is.” Finished, she picked up her plate and put it in the sink. “By the way, I’ve worked up a schedule for us. It’s posted on the refrigerator.” Busy washing off the plate, she nodded toward the appliance.