by Leanne Banks
He studied her again and she held her breath, wondering what he saw. Did he know she was a flaw-filled scaredy-cat? Ridiculous, Delilah told herself and forced herself to breathe.
He shrugged. “If you’re willing to accept responsibility for him, then you must know what you’re doing. Let me know if you want me to get some referrals for nanny agencies,” he said and started toward the door. “Good ni—”
Panic froze her feet. Adrenaline sent her dashing to her door to stop him. “Wait!” She plastered her back against the door. “You can’t leave.”
He lifted one of those dark sexy eyebrows. “Why not? Everything seems to be under control here.”
For this second, she thought. What if that baby woke up? What was she going to do with him when he needed something? What was she going to do with him when she needed to go to work tomorrow?
Delilah swallowed a scream and a healthy measure of pride. “Not exactly.”
He rested his hands on his hips. “Not exactly how?”
“I mean I’m not prepared to take care of this baby.”
“Then give him back to his mother.”
“But I have to take care of him because I made a promise.”
That stopped him. He understood promises. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Then you need to get ready to be a single parent.”
“And I will, but I, uh, uh—” The words stopped in her throat. She forced them out. “I need your help.”
“Mine?” he asked in an incredulous voice. “What can I do?”
“Well, you’ve already helped. You got him to go to sleep and you remembered that I’m going to need to hire a nanny. And I was hoping you might help me juggle things until I can make arrangements.” She took a deep breath and waited and waited. Delilah was desperate. She knew he probably wouldn’t come through. No man in his right mind would agree to giving her what she wanted.
But heaven help her, she needed help. Terror clawed through her. She put both hands on his shirt collar and drew his face toward hers. “I saved your butt. You promised if I asked for something, you would do it.” The promise he’d made to her hung between them.
Realization crossed his face. “This is what you want in return?”
She nodded.
“Exactly what do you want?”
“Help.”
Benjamin’s ingrained truth meter was clanging at top volume. Delilah Montague wasn’t telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. He’d stake his license to practice law on it.
The baby had been dumped on her, however. He’d witnessed that with his own eyes. She clearly hadn’t been expecting the dumping. And just as clearly, she was determined to take care of the baby even though she didn’t have a plan.
If he were smart he would find a way to extricate himself from the situation. After all, he was supposed to be using this time to figure out what he was going to do with his life. He needed the soothing drone of power tools, not the ear-rattling scream of a baby or the hormonal disruption Delilah generated by her mere presence.
If he hadn’t made a promise to her … There went his damn conscience again. It had cost him a great job, his fiancée. If he wasn’t careful, it would cost him even more.
Sighing, he pushed back his sleeves and moved toward the diaper bag.
Delilah stepped in front of him. “What are you doing?”
“You said you needed help. There were some papers—”
She tensed. “You don’t need to see those.”
Benjamin ground his teeth. He liked having all the facts and right now he didn’t. When a man didn’t have all the facts, there was often a rattlesnake waiting to strike. He’d learned this the hard way. “Was there any information on caring for the baby?”
Delilah blinked. “Oh.” She rummaged through the diaper bag and gave him a crumpled sheet of paper.
Benjamin skimmed the instructions and grimaced.
“What?”
“No disposable diapers,” he said, shaking his head. “That requirement will eliminate half the nanny prospects.”
Delilah bit her lip. “Don’t say that.”
“They’re not gonna beat down your doors to use cloth diapers. You have the yellow pages around here?”
She nodded. “I’ll start calling.”
“Let me call my mom first,” he said, pulling out his cell phone. “She has the inside track on this kind of thing.” Feeling Delilah’s gaze on him, he checked his watch and dialed the number for his parents’ house. “Hey Sadie, this is Ben. Is Mom around?”
The housekeeper answered affirmatively and he waited until his mother came on the line. “Hello Benjamin, how are you, dear?”
“I’m fine. I need a favor. I have a friend who is in need of a good nanny. Can you recommend some agencies?”
Silence followed. “A friend?” his mother repeated. “What friend? How long have you known this friend?”
Benjamin heard the I-want-a-grandchild tone in his mother’s voice and could have kicked himself. “Don’t get your hopes up, Mom. It’s just a neighbor. I only met this person since I moved back to Houston.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice full of disappointment. “Well, is this neighbor female?”
Benjamin stifled a groan. He knew his mother too well. If he wouldn’t give her an instant grandchild, then she would take a prospective daughter-in-law who could provide her with a grandchild. “Mom, this is just a kindness for someone who suddenly has custody of a cousin’s baby.”
“What happened? Was there a death?”
Great. She wanted the details. “Yeah, it’s a sad situation.”
“How old is the baby?”
“The baby’s age is—” He looked at Delilah.
She lifted six fingers.
“Six months.”
“Aw, what a shame.” His mother made a tsking sound. “And your neighbor is going to take care of the little thing. Boy or girl?”
“It’s a boy. Mom, about the nanny agencies—”
“And your neighbor is female, right?” she asked, hope creeping into her voice again.
“Mom,” he said in a warning tone.
“Well Benjamin, we’ve been so worried since your engagement fell apart, and you haven’t been out with any women even though I’ve tried—”
“Mom, we can talk about this another time. I need nanny agency recommendations right now. Can you help or not?”
“Well, of course I can,” she said, mildly offended. “All the daughters of the women in my bridge club use Nanny Finders. All the daughters of the women in the Women’s League use Nanny Connection. Either of those should work. Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?”
Unwilling to face the well-intended grilling and manipulation, he shook his head. “I can’t make it tomorrow night. More renovations on the condo.”
His mother made a sound of frustration. “Why you insist on doing it yourself when you could easily pay for it, I’ll never understand. For that matter, you could move in here—”
Never in a million years. “Mom, you’re an angel to offer, but I couldn’t accept. Thanks again for the nanny refs. I’ll talk to you soon. Tell Dad I said hi.” He hung up, feeling Delilah’s curious gaze on him. “She gave me two names. You might want to go ahead and give them a call tonight, leave a message on voicemail and follow up in the morning.”
“Did she ask if the baby was yours?” Delilah asked bluntly.
“She was hoping. She wants grandchildren and I’ve dashed her hopes since my engagement broke up.”
Delilah’s lips lifted in a smile that held a hint of longing. “It might seem like a pain, but it’s nice to have someone who cares that much for you.”
“She’s a mother to the core,” he said, then stopped at the expression on her face. “What about your mother?”
“She passed away a long time ago. I didn’t live with her after I turned nine.”
He gave a low whistle. “And your dad?”
She grimace
d. “That’s not a great bedtime story.” She bit her lip. “So what were the nanny agency references?”
“Nanny Finders and Nanny Connection,” he said, watching her as she fanned through the phone book and picked up the phone. As she left her messages in a voice edged with a sultry huskiness, he couldn’t help studying her. Her terry robe gaped to reveal her ample cleavage. The bulky material failed to hide the curve of her waist to her hips. Her brown hair skimmed over one eye, giving her a sexy, slightly dangerous look. The style was choppy and hip, rebellious.
Benjamin had always preferred long hair. Delilah was so different from his ex-fiancée. Erin had been blonde and slim, cool and classic.
“Done,” she said, hanging up.
He nodded. “I’ll take the first shift,” he offered.
“First shift?”
“With the baby. If he doesn’t sleep well, we could end up staying up all night. It’ll be easier to take turns. If you give me a blanket and a pillow, I’ll camp on a chair in your den.”
Surprise crossed her face. “You’re going to stay here tonight?”
He shrugged. “Part of the night. Unless you’d rather handle Willy on your own.”
“Oh, no!” she said quickly, panic slicing through her gaze again. “No, I think shifts are a great idea. I—” She cleared her throat as if she were swallowing another helping of pride. “I appreciate your help. Let me get you a pillow.”
She disappeared down the hallway, her scent teasing his nostrils even after she left. He wondered what it would be like to follow Delilah down the hall into her bedroom and spend the night drowning himself and his general frustration with his life in her lush curves and bad-girl mouth.
She returned with the pillow and blanket and he watched her place them on a chair. “Would you like a beer?” she asked.
He nodded. “Might as well.”
She turned toward the refrigerator. “I think I have about three left from when Cash was still—” She broke off abruptly and pulled out a beer. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.
He popped the top. “Who’s Cash?”
“Best friend I ever had. He died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” she said, her gaze flitting away from his as if the subject were painful for her. She stepped toward the den. “I guess we should get you set up at your post. I hope you’ll be able to doze.”
“I’ve lost sleep over less important things than this.”
She met his gaze with a half-smile. “You and me both.”
Benjamin had been thinking he’d lost sleep over law briefs and his broken engagement. From the expression on her face, he got the impression that Delilah had lost sleep for a much more pleasurable past time.
She lifted the blanket with one hand and pointed to the chair. He sat down and she covered him. The gesture was oddly nurturing. “Thanks,” he murmured.
She nodded and moved to a chair next to his, propping herself on the arm of it.
“Why don’t you go to bed?”
“I will soon. My head’s too busy right now.”
He glanced at the baby. “Big responsibility.”
“Yes, he is,” she said.
Silence hung between them in the darkness, a comfortable silence with a hint of something electric he couldn’t name.
“What was she like? Your fiancée?”
Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the supreme irritation he usually felt when someone mentioned his ex-fiancée. Delilah’s question didn’t have anything to do with the current situation, but he felt like answering. He would have to figure out why later.
“She graduated at the top of her class at Yale. Very bright, ambitious, but beautiful and classy. A pedigree that dates back before the Mayflower.”
“Perfect,” Delilah murmured.
“I thought so,” he said. “She said our life was going to be perfect.” And he’d been so proud that he’d done it all, climbed the ranks at the firm and wooed Erin without help from his father and away from the influence of the family name.
“Reality bites. Nobody gets perfection. At least not here on earth.”
“You say that as if you know.”
“Let’s just say I can speak with confidence on the subject of perfection.”
“What are your qualifications?”
“My father is an evangelist and he required perfection.”
Something in her eyes gave Benjamin an uncomfortable feeling, but now that he was going down this road, he couldn’t stop. “What happened when you weren’t perfect?”
She shrugged. “The usual. That’s not important. What I learned is what’s important. Don’t expect perfection of yourself or anyone else and you’ll be a lot happier.”
“If you don’t shoot for perfection, then what do you aim for?”
“Pretty damn good,” she said. Something told him that she gave everything a pretty damn good effort and that her pretty damn good effort left a lot of others in the dust.
Beware of men who are know-it-alls. Dealing with them can bring on PMS-like symptoms.
—DELILAH’S DICTUM
Chapter 5
Delilah awakened to a loud cry and her body stiffened. She jerked upright in bed, mentally slapping her brain to attention. Baby. Willy. Her shift.
Her heart pounding a mile a minute, she jumped out of bed and raced to the den. Her legs moving on auto, she nearly plowed into Benjamin’s broad back. She blinked at the sight of him holding the baby. What was he doing here? She was supposed to have taken over a second shift, but neither he nor Willy had woken her.
Benjamin turned around and looked at her. “Good morning.”
Willie howled.
“I’m guessing he needs to be changed and fed.”
“Changed,” she echoed, still not operating on all cylinders. Then it hit her. “Diaper,” she said, not looking forward to the task.
He nodded.
She held up her hand. “Just one minute. Give me just one minute.” She grabbed the paper with the instructions, hurried to the kitchen and opened one of the cans of formula she’d unloaded from the diaper bag last night. She dumped it into a bottle and put it in the microwave for fifteen seconds.
Before the microwave dinged, she returned to the den, grabbed a fresh diaper and the pack of wipes. She looked around the room. “Let’s do this on the cushion,” she said and Benjamin placed Willy on the cushion, screaming at top volume.
She bit her lip. “I don’t think I’ve changed a cloth diaper before, so you’re gonna have to cut me some slack,” she said to Willy as she pulled off plastic pants and unfastened the pins. “I just hope it’s not a mess—omigod,” she said in dismay. “How is it possible for such a small being to produce such a large quantity of—”
“You might not want to leave him uncovered,” Benjamin suggested.
She shot him a quick glance of confusion. “What do you mean?”
He pointed. “He might—”
She glanced down and a tiny fountain of baby tinkle sprayed onto her nightshirt. She covered his spigot with a diaper, then looked up at Benjamin. “Could you please bring me another diaper?”
He brought her another and she began to wipe up Willy, none too efficiently. Willy cried louder and Delilah grew more flustered.
“Just keep him covered with the diaper while you clean him up.”
“I am,” Delilah said.
Willy reached for his diaper area.
“Watch his hands. I think I had a cousin who said she doubled the diaper in the front.”
Delilah frowned, trying to coordinate the task. “How do you know so much about cloth diapers?”
“I don’t know that much, but I have a lot of cousins who have participated in a great deal of procreation. Maybe he wouldn’t cry so much if you talked to him.”
Her head pounded. “Talk to him? I can’t hold a conversation while I do this, especially with him screaming.”
“Make sure you stick the pin away from him, and you
need to—”
Delilah swore under her breath. “You’re talking too fast.”
“Stick the pin,” he said in a slow drawn-out voice that indicated he thought she was mentally slow. “Away from—”
Delilah jammed herself with the second pin and swore again. She waved her hand for him to stop then scooped up the baby and stood. “I really appreciate your help,” she said, meeting his gaze head-on. “I also recognize that you may be more educated than I am in several areas, but just because I’m not a member of Mensa does not mean I’m a member of Densa.”
Benjamin stared at her and cocked his head. “I can honestly say the terms mensa and densa never entered my mind.”
“Hmm.” Skeptical, Delilah scooped up Willy and carried him to the kitchen. Benjamin joined her as she pulled the bottle out of the microwave. She shook the bottle and tested the temperature of the formula. Willy squirmed and lunged for the bottle. “You’re a hungry little bugger.”
“Are you suggesting that I’m an intellectual elitist?”
“Yes,” Delilah said without pausing. She braced the bottle with her hand while Willie noisily sucked down the liquid.
“Do you always convict without a fair trial?”
“Only when I’m right,” she said with a smile.
He rested his hands on his narrow hips. “What makes you sure you’re right?”
“Where did your best friends attend college?”
“Harvard and a few from UT.”
“How many got advanced degrees?”
“Most,” he admitted grudgingly.
“How many did not graduate from college?”
“None, but—”
“I’m not done. How many women have you dated who didn’t graduate in the top ten percent of their class?”
He met her gaze. “None, but—”
“Case closed,” she said.
“You couldn’t convict me on the basis of those answers in a court of law.”
“But we’re not operating in a court of law. We’re operating in Delilah’s court.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am not.”
