Widening a slit in the venetian blinds, Garrick peered out to the house across the street. This was supposed to be a quiet neighborhood.
“Sam!”
Who’s Sam? His eyes lowered to the large pink basket she was carrying. A baby. Something was wrong with her baby?
Garrick turned and raced from the window. His heart lodged in his throat at all the wild possibilities. Was the baby sick, hurt, or worse?
“Sam!”
There was no snow this Christmas, but the cold December wind was an instant wake-up call against his bare chest. Yet, there was no way he was going to turn around now that he could also hear a baby screaming.
“Ma’am, ma’am. What’s wrong?”
“What?” The lady stepped back. “Who are you?” Her eyes raked him.
It hit him then that he was standing in his neighbor’s driveway in just his pajama pants. “I—I’m Garrick Grayson. Your new neighbor across the street.”
She took another step back but confusion still clouded her face. Actually, she looked every bit the part of a crazy woman with her hair standing straight on her head. Maybe this was trouble he didn’t need.
“Ma’am, you were screaming at the top of your voice. Is something wrong?”
She blinked out of her trance and glanced around the neighborhood.
Garrick looked as well and saw a few people milling out of their houses.
“Just great,” the woman mumbled under her breath. “Sam has turned me into a screaming lunatic.” She turned, clutched the bassinette tighter, and headed toward her front door.
Still concerned about the crying baby, he followed. “Who’s Sam?” he asked.
“My soon-to-be-deceased sister.” She entered the house. “Okay, little baby,” she cooed awkwardly. “You can stop crying now. Everything is going to be all right…I hope.”
Garrick frowned. “Ma’am. Is everything all right? Do you need me to call someone for you?”
“Call someone. That’s a good idea. I can call someone to come and help me with…uh—this baby.” She stopped in the foyer and then squeezed the large bassinette onto a slim table. “But who? Everyone is gone for the holidays.”
The baby wailed at full volume.
“Okay. Okay. I can do this,” she affirmed and reached for the baby.
Garrick still didn’t know what to make of any of this.
The baby, dressed in all pink, flailed tiny hands and feet as the screaming continued.
Dumbfounded, Garrick eyed the bizarre woman as she held the child away from her body as if the child were a stick of dynamite. “Have you ever held a baby before?”
“Uh, yeah—but never when one was crying like this. I think something is wrong with it.”
It? “I take it this is not your child?”
“Good heavens, no.” Her face twisted. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she assured the child.
Garrick wasn’t too sure about that and apparently neither was the baby—if the screaming was any indication.
“Why won’t it stop crying?” the lady asked in obvious distress.
It again. “First, I’m guessing by all the pink that it’s a girl,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Second, I’m thinking you would want to hold her a little closer to your body if you’re trying to comfort her.”
The lady looked as if he’d told her to jump off a cliff; but in the next second, she was bobbing her head in agreement. “Okay, okay. I can do that.”
She nearly did, too—until an unmistakable sound alerted them that the baby had just unloaded half her body weight into her diaper.
“Oh-my-God,” the woman croaked, stretching her arms farther out from her body. “Did you hear that?”
The corners of Garrick’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah, I heard.” He reached for the baby. This wasn’t exactly the kind of emergency he’d had in mind when he’d bolted over here, but it was a job that still needed to be done.
Garrick nestled the little girl in the crook of his arm. As he swayed back and forth, the baby quieted down. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed, smiling down at the chubby-cheeked baby. She was actually adorable with her nest of curly hair and sweet brown eyes. Still, he couldn’t imagine who was insane enough to leave their baby with this woman.
“How did you do that?” his neighbor asked, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
“I’ve been told I’m a natural with babies and animals,” he boasted proudly.
“You’re a godsend.”
The woman raked her fingers through her hair—something she should stop doing, he noted.
“Yeah, well, I guess if you just get us a new diaper, I can help you change her and get out of your hair.” He didn’t mean to mention her hair, but it had a way of drawing the eye.
She blinked. “A diaper?”
“You do have diapers, right?”
“Uh.” She turned back toward the bassinette and searched inside it, but the only thing she pulled out was a thin envelope.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s from Sam,” she said with a note of dread, and then lifted her large, sad brown eyes up at him. “It could only mean bad news.”
Chapter 3
On the porch of her Sea Symphony Villa, Roslyn stared out at Barbados’s powdery white sand, turquoise sea, cerulean sky and wanted to pinch herself. Everything was postcard perfect—and yet she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back home.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Patrick eased his arms around her waist and nibbled on her exposed shoulder.
Though his lips were pleasure, they failed to draw Roslyn from her troubled thoughts. “I was thinking about Samantha,” she answered honestly.
Her husband groaned and laid his head against her shoulder. “This is supposed to be our vacation.”
“It is.” Roslyn turned in his arms and fluttered a smile at him. “I was just hoping everything is okay, you know? This time of year is always hard for her.”
Patrick nodded, but his gaze inspected her. “This time of year is also hard on you…and Leila.”
Instant tears welled in Roslyn’s eyes and
