be able to see her in her usual buttoned-up office wear without seeing those freckles in the back of his mind.
The bathroom soon began to fill with steam and he turned to see Faye had wrapped a towel around herself, protecting her modesty. Even so, he couldn’t quite rid himself of the vision of her as she’d pulled her sweater off. Of the slenderness of her hips and thighs and how very tiny her waist was. Of the scar across her abdomen that had told of a major surgery at some time. Of that intriguing dusting of freckles that invited closer exploration—
No, stop it! he castigated himself. She’s your PA, not your plaything.
“Shower’s all ready. Stay in there as long as you need. I’ll be back with some clothes, then I’ll warm up something to eat.”
For a second he considered trekking down the drive to retrieve her suitcase, but that wasn’t a practical consideration with both her and the baby needing his supervision. Which left him with the task of finding her something out of his wardrobe. An imp of mischief tugged his lips into a grin. Oh, yes, he knew exactly what he’d get her.
* * *
“You can’t be serious!” Faye exclaimed as she came through the bathroom door. “Surely you could have found me something better than this to wear!”
Now that she was warm again she was well and truly back to her usual self.
Piers fought the urge to laugh out loud. She was swamped in the Christmas sweater he’d chosen for her out of his collection and the track pants ballooned around her slender legs. At least the knitted socks he favored while he stayed here didn’t look too ridiculous, even if the heel part was probably up around her ankles. It was a relief to see her with some natural color back in her cheeks, though.
“You needed something warm.” He shrugged. “I didn’t have time to be picky. Besides, you look adorable.”
Faye snorted. “I don’t do adorable.”
“Not normally, no,” he agreed amicably. “But you have to admit you’re warmer in those clothes than you would be in your own.”
“Speaking of my own... Where are they?”
“In the dryer—except for your coat, which is hanging up in the mudroom.”
Faye nodded in approval and looked around. “What have you done with the baby?”
As if on cue, a squawk arose from the sofa. A squawk that soon rose to a high-pitched scream that was enough to raise the hairs on the back of Piers’s neck. He groaned inwardly. One problem solved and another just popped right back up. It was like playing Whac-A-Mole except a whole lot less satisfying.
“Well, aren’t you going to do something?” Faye asked with a pained expression on her face.
“I was going to get you something to eat. Perhaps you could see to Casey.”
“That’s his name?”
Piers winced as the baby screamed again and he rushed over to the sofa to pick him up. The little tyke’s knees were pulled up against his chest and his fists flailed angrily in the air. For a wee thing, he sure had bushels full of temper.
“According to the note, yes.” He held the baby up against him, but Casey wouldn’t be consoled. “What do I do now?”
“Why would you expect me to know?” his currently very unhelpful PA responded.
“Because...” His voice trailed off. He’d been about to say “because you’re a woman,” but saved himself in time. It was an unfair assumption to make. “Because you seem to know everything else,” he hastily blurted.
“You deal with him. I’ll go find us something to eat.”
“Faye, please. What should I do?” he implored, jiggling Casey up and down and swaying on the spot. All things he’d seen other people do with babies with far greater success than he was currently experiencing. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the child was in pain, but how could that be so?
Faye gestured to the empty bottle he’d left on the coffee table. “Did you burp him after you fed him?”
“Burp him?”
“You know, keep him upright, rub his back, encourage him to burp.”
“No.”
“Then he’s probably just got gas in his stomach. Put a cloth or a towel on your shoulder and rub his back firmly. He’ll come around.”
“Like this?” Piers said, rubbing the baby’s tiny little back for all he was worth.
“Yes, but you’ll need a towel—”
Casey let out an almighty belch and Piers felt something warm and wet congeal on his shoulder and against the side of his neck. He fought a shudder, almost too afraid to look.
“—in case he spits up on you,” Faye finished with a smug expression on her face.
If he didn’t know better he’d have accused her of enjoying his discomfort, but, never one to let the little things get him down, Piers merely went through to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of paper towels to wipe off his neck and shoulder. His nostrils flared at the scent of slightly soured milk.
“Try not to let it get on his clothes if you can help it. Unless you want to bathe and change him, that is.”
Yes, there was no mistaking the humor in her tone. Piers turned on her, the now silent baby cradled in one arm as he continued to dab at the moisture on his shoulder.
“You do know about babies,” he accused her.
She shrugged in much the same way he had when she’d protested the clothing he’d given her. “Maybe I just know everything, like you said.”
“Can you hold him for me while I go and change?”
“You could just get me something decent to wear and I can give you this abominable snowman back,” she answered, tugging at the front of the sweater he’d given her. “Seriously, do you have an entire collection of these things?”
“Actually, I do. So, back to my question, can you hold him for me?”
“No.”
She turned and walked away.
“Then what am I supposed to do with him?”
“Put him on a blanket on the floor or lay him on your bed while you get changed. Although, if you’ve fed him you might want to check his diaper before you put him on the bed. You wouldn’t want anything to leak out on that silk comforter of yours.”
Piers shuddered in horror. “Check his diaper? How does one do that?”
Faye sighed heavily and turned to face him. “You really don’t know?”
“It doesn’t fall under the category of running a Fortune 500 company and keeping thousands of staff in employment. Nor does it come under the banner of
