the kitchen. When she returned, she carried her large stainless-steel garbage can with her. “Drop it in here.”
Garrick’s brows dipped in confusion, but he did as she asked. “Um, is there anyone you can call to help you with her?” He reached down and picked up the rolling child before she fell off the sofa.
Leila shook her head and set the garbage can down.
“Another family member…or friend?”
She snapped her fingers and raced over to the cordless phone on the end table. “Ciara!”
Garrick brightened. “There you go. Problem solved.”
“You’re so right. Ciara totally knows about this whole baby thing. I can pawn Ms. Emma off on her for a few hours while I hunt down my mentally handicapped sister.” She punched in the number.
He frowned. “Do you think that’s a wise idea?”
She listened as the phone rang. “What do you mean?”
“Well, apparently your sister is, uh, a little unstable at the moment. Maybe it’s not the right time to force her to take care of Emma. You know, I read an article the other day on postpartum depression—”
“What are you, a shrink?”
“No—”
“Tom Cruise?”
He chuckled. “Definitely not.”
Suddenly, Ciara’s voice filtered onto the line. “Hello.”
“Ciara! Thank God you’re home.”
“You’ve reached the Winstons’ residence. Sorry, we’re not able to come to the phone right now.”
“Damn it!” She slammed the phone down onto its cradle.
“Uh, there’s a baby in the room.” Garrick’s expression twisted as he attempted to cover Emma’s ears.
Leila waved him off. “She doesn’t know what I’m saying.”
Garrick drew a deep, patient breath. “Children are like sponges. They absorb everything.”
“Uh-huh.” Leila folded her arms and scrutinized him carefully. “I take it you have children?”
He shifted Emma to his other arm. “Not exactly.”
Her eyebrows dipped to the center of her forehead. “It’s a yes or no question.”
“Then the answer is no.” He walked over to her. “But I’m a highly qualified uncle—who incidentally understands the Gerber baby meal plan, knows the difference between a hungry wail and a teething wail, and I am pretty skilled in the diaper-changing arena.” He tried to hand over Emma.
“Wait a minute…I don’t—”
“Come on. You can do it.” He slid Emma into Leila’s arms and proceeded to instruct her on the proper way to hold the child. “There. You already have the hang of it.” He turned and exited out of the living room.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“Home.” He strode across the foyer.
“But you can’t go,” she reasoned, giving chase.
He laughed, but refused to stop. “Why can’t I?”
“Because I need you.” She reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “I don’t know anything about babies. What if—What if I—?”
“What if you what?” Garrick turned and glanced back at her.
Leila’s mind went blank. “I don’t know. What if I break her…or scar her for life or something? That happens a lot in my family.”
When he chuckled, she snatched back her hand and struggled to extinguish a spark of anger.
He sensed he’d offended her and turned toward her with another breathtaking smile. “You’re going to be fine,” he reassured. “Women have been taking care of babies since Adam and Eve. That’s what they were put on this earth for. It’s in your nature.”
“What?”
“It’s in your nature,” he repeated.
Leila stared at him. “What kind of sexist pig are you?”
Garrick blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s in our nature?” She stepped back. “Is that the best you can do? I’m standing here telling you that I could potentially emotionally scar a little girl and your response is a flippant ‘It’s in my nature’?”
“Well—”
“You know. Never mind.” She marched over to the door and held it open. “Thanks for your so-called help.”
He stared at her; but when she lifted her head and refused to meet his gaze again, he shrugged and strolled toward the door. When he reached it, he stopped and contemplated whether he needed to apologize; but there was something about the firm line of her jaw and the height of her nose that made him reconsider.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, and walked out.
The door slammed as soon as he crossed the threshold. Garrick looked back and shook his head. “At least Scrooge was sane.”
Chapter 4
Samantha Owens sobbed behind the wheel of her fifteen-year-old beat-up sedan. Her guilt weighed down her shoulders while the hole in her heart expanded. It had been nearly thirty minutes since she’d left Emma at her sister’s house—the longest thirty minutes of her life.
“You did the right thing,” the devil on her shoulder repeated—or was it the angel? She was so mixed up, she couldn’t tell them apart anymore. Frustrated, she dropped her head against the center of the steering wheel, and then jumped when the horn blared.
She sat up and glanced around Leila’s quiet neighborhood. Leila’s front door jerked open and for a moment, Samantha feared the worst. Instead, a handsome stranger emerged and then jumped when the front door slammed behind him.
A classic Leila move.
However, the neighbor seemed more amused than angry as he strolled with a confident swagger across the street. He was quite a specimen and she wondered whether he and her sister were more than just neighbors.
Sam dispelled the notion and refocused her attention on Leila’s McMansion. “I did the right thing,” she concluded, starting the car. “Bye, Emma. Mommy loves you.”
Garrick returned home and made a beeline to the kitchen for a pot of coffee; but after a morning with the unforgettable Leila Owens, maybe he needed something with a little more kick.
“Was
