he asked skeptically.
“She probably just needs some time with you alone. Maybe you could start reading to her at night.”
If Gail didn’t know better, she would say she saw a sliver of terror flash through his eyes. That couldn’t be right, she thought. After all, Molly was his daughter. A big, powerful man like Nicholas Barone couldn’t possibly be terrified of his baby daughter. Could he?
“Maybe,” he said in a considering tone, his expression guarded. “Maybe another night. I have a commitment to attend a charity function tonight. My turn to be the official Barone-family representative.”
Still wailing, Molly clutched Gail’s hair tightly. “It’s okay,” Gail cooed, rubbing the baby’s back. “You’re just fine.” She glanced again at Nicholas, her curiosity aroused. “Do you mind being the official Barone representative?” she said.
He shrugged and his mouth tilted in a sexy grin. “Depends on the function and the woman.”
She nodded. “Ah,” she said, feeling a jumpy sensation at the sensual glint in his eyes. How would it feel to spend an evening receiving the undivided attention of a man like Nicholas Barone? Gail would no doubt spend the entire date stammering and blushing, unlike the confident, gorgeous women he was accustomed to. She wondered who it was tonight. “You must have a tough time choosing the ‘flavor of the day.’ I don’t remember meeting a woman who doesn’t love ice cream, so you must represent the perfect combination.”
“What would that be?” he asked. “Wealth and…”
She shook her head. “Actually I wasn’t thinking of wealth. I was thinking of ice cream and a favorite topping. Something hot,” she said impulsively, because if ever the word was an apt description for a man, it was now. “Hot fudge sauce.”
As Nicholas stared at her for a long moment, she felt a roar of embarrassment race through her. What had possessed her to say such a thing? Thinking it was one thing. Saying it was something totally different. She cringed, certain her cheeks matched the color of her hair. Was she destined to constantly embarrass herself in front of this man? “Could we just forget I said that?”
“Forget you just compared me to ice cream and hot fudge sauce?” he asked, his dark eyebrows arching.
“Uh, yeah,” she said hopefully.
He shook his head and chuckled. “No. I’m sure I’ll remember that for a long time.”
And Gail made the futile wish that she could fall through a crack in the perfectly sealed tile floor of the foyer so her five-foot-eight-inch frame would disappear.
Two
After the last two busy days, Gail should have been comatose. Instead, she stared wide-eyed at the eight-foot ceiling of her elegant bedroom. Molly, the precious screaming meemie, had finally fallen asleep an hour ago. Caring for an uneasy, clingy one-year-old was both rewarding and exhausting. On those rare occasions when Molly smiled, it was as if the sun came out from behind a cloud.
Gail felt as if she was making progress with her little charge, but she worried about Molly and Nicholas. She had tried without success to encourage Nicholas to spend time with his daughter. He made overtures, but when Molly began to cry, and she always did, he backed away. Gail worried about how to bring the two of them together. If Molly continued to cry and Nicholas continued to pull away, she feared they would never develop the warm, loving relationship they both could have.
The warm, loving relationship Gail would have had with her father if he had lived. The memory of her father’s death stirred a pang of longing to which Gail thought she’d become immune.
Abandoning her effort to sleep, she rose from the bed and pulled on her robe. She yawned, scooted her feet into her pink bunny slippers and headed for the kitchen for a cup of something hot without caffeine. As she passed Molly’s room, she noticed the door was slightly ajar.
Curious, she quietly pushed the door open and spotted Nicholas standing next to Molly’s crib. Dressed in a black wool suit that had taken him from early-morning meetings to another charity function this evening, he had loosened his tie and was totally focused on the sight of his sleeping daughter.
The grave tenderness on his face made Gail’s heart twist. “Gotcha,” she whispered.
For a moment she wondered if he’d heard her. But then he turned to meet her gaze and his mouth lifted in a slow half smile. “So you did.”
Gail felt the punch of attraction all over again, but refused to let the man’s sex appeal cloud her mind. “She’s not crying,” she said, moving closer to the crib.
“She doesn’t know I’m here,” Nicholas said dryly. “Otherwise, she’d be screaming her lungs out.”
“Babies cry to expend energy. It’s not personal,” she said, and hoped it was true.
“Uh-huh.” His deep voice was full of doubt as he returned his gaze to Molly.
“Well, it’s true. It’s not as if babies can play tennis or volleyball to work off their frustration.”
“And there’s no correlation to her crying every time I come around. It has absolutely nothing to do with my presence.”
Gail wanted to say it didn’t, but she feared her nose would grow like Pinocchio’s. “Well, it wouldn’t,” she insisted, “if you would spend more time with her when she’s awake.”
“Her little life’s been turned inside out lately. I don’t want to upset her more, so I come every night and watch her. Maybe she’ll get used to me through osmosis or something.”
The combination of his wry tenderness and strength struck at Gail’s heart. “Maybe you could sing to her.”
He shot her a dark look.
“Just seems like there should be a way to make some progress,” she said, wrinkling her brow as she searched for a solution. “Maybe you could leave something of yours in her crib. Something you wear next to your skin. Something with your scent.”
“My socks?” he said.
She chuckled. “No. The objective is to help her bond with you, not chase her away. Maybe your T-shirt,” she ventured.
He stood perfectly still for a long moment, then gave a short nod. “Okay,” he said, and shrugged out of his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. He thrust his jacket at her. “Here. Hold this.”
Gail instinctively clutched his jacket and felt her jaw fall open in shock. “Uh, you, uh, don’t have to—” She broke off as he handed her his shirt and in one motion yanked off his T-shirt. Her gaze fastened on the breathtaking, thigh-melting view of his muscular bare chest. A dusting of dark hair skimmed down the center of his chest and abdomen and disappeared beneath the waistband of his black slacks. He carefully set his T-shirt beside Molly in the crib, his muscles rippling with the movement.
He turned back to face her. “Any other suggestions?”
None that wouldn’t send her into cardiac arrest, Gail thought. She cleared her throat. “You’ll get an opportunity to be alone with her when she’s awake tomorrow
