you.”
An hour had gone by since they’d last talked, but judging by the way Pandora jumped when Calder entered the room, she’d been deeply absorbed in a parenting book.
“Scintillating?” he teased, running his hand over his bare chest.
When she glanced up at him, her cheeks reddened. “Um, not really. Just researching the proper way to introduce Quinn to more solid foods.”
He nodded, fighting a flash of guilt for not having read the book he’d bought months earlier. “Last time I talked to my mom, she mentioned that.”
“Oh?” Pandora’s red cheeks fairly glowed. Ducking behind her book, she added, “That’s nice.”
What was her problem?
The air-conditioning kicked on, chilling what moisture still clung to his chest from the shower. Then it dawned on him—prim-and-proper Wonder Nanny didn’t like him not wearing a shirt. She’d be the first woman in history who disapproved of his eight-pack, but as her employer, he supposed professional courtesy dictated he be fully dressed. Ducking into his room, he grabbed a clean T-shirt from an unfolded basket of laundry. After tugging it over his head, he returned to the living room. “I know I told you I didn’t want to talk about Quinn’s mother until I had a few beers in my system, but I guess since you’re now his primary caregiver, you need to know why I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to parenting.”
“I’ve seen worse.” She sipped from her iced tea.
“Not sure if that’s good or bad.”
“Good,” she assured.
He struggled for the right place to start. “Until a couple months ago, I didn’t know Quinn existed. Back then, I shared an apartment with friends and one morning I opened the door to find Quinn in his carrier. A Post-it attached to the handle pretty much said his mom quit and now it was my turn to be his parent.”
Hands over her mouth, Pandora’s striking green eyes shone with unshed tears. “That’s crazy. Where is she now? What if something had happened to him while he was alone? You don’t even know anything about his medical records.”
“Yeah,” he said with a sarcastic chuckle, “tell me about it. I took him to a pediatrician and he seems healthy. Had a DNA test run and sure enough, he’s mine. Only—and I’m not proud of this—I don’t have a clue who his mom could be.”
“You haven’t heard from her? How could she just leave her child without at least reassuring herself that he’s okay? What if you hadn’t even been home, but off on one of your missions?”
“Valid questions.” Running his hand over his whisker-stubbled jaw, Calder said, “I have to assume she knew my car, and when she saw it parked out front, guessed I was home. Still, the whole thing’s thrown me off my game. I’ve been asking tons of questions from everyone I know who has a kid. Bought this house so Quinn would have a backyard. Tonight was the first time I’ve been out with my friends in what feels like forever.”
“Was it as fun as you’ve no doubt imagined?”
Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the ceiling. “It was all right.” What he wouldn’t admit was that his good time had been partially ruined by mental images of her. Of wondering what she and Quinn were doing. Was the little guy playing with his plastic boats in the bath? All of which made no sense, considering how grateful he’d been to hand over his kid to a practical stranger.
“Sorry. Hopefully, now that I’m here, you can get back to your old routine.”
“Yeah. That’d be good.” But would it? And now that Calder had Quinn, was it even possible to revert to the way his life used to be? Before having a kid, he’d had no worries beyond making it to duty on time. Now he had a constant streaming checklist of diapers and baby food and formula. Granted, all of that was now Pandora’s domain, but what kind of dad would he be to just let her take over Quinn’s parenting in full?
“You ever worry about what you’ll do if Quinn’s mother suddenly shows up, wanting to take him back?”
“Thought’s crossed my mind.” In those first rough days, he’d found himself praying for just such a scenario. But as time went on, he’d gotten angry. Calder might not be the best dad, but he sure as hell would never leave his kid on a doorstep. “At this point, I doubt any judge would grant custody to a mother who pulled this kind of stunt. I mean, what kind of woman abandons her child?”
“I don’t know....” Was it his imagination, or had she paled?
* * *
AS MUCH AS Pandora cherished Calder’s quiet home during her first day, she struggled falling asleep in the still of night. After hours of fitful tossing and turning, she was relieved to hear Quinn cry over the baby monitor.
She went to him, scooping him from his crib for a quick diaper change before making him a bottle. By this age, she was surprised he wasn’t sleeping through the night, but after what Calder told her, she suspected the little guy was waking not from hunger, but an innate need for reassurance that while he’d slept, his world hadn’t once again fallen apart.
In the kitchen, Quinn on her hip, she said to the sleepy boy, “When your dad told me your mom abandoned you, I felt sad. But then I felt guilty. By choosing to drink over raising my little girl, is that what I did to her?”
Quinn nuzzled his head against her neck. His warmth, the downy-soft feel of his hair, filled her with achy longing for her own child.
Soon, Julia. Soon.
Her next court date wasn’t until spring, but that was okay. By then, she’d have saved even more money—enough to provide her daughter with the true home she’d always deserved.
Pandora turned on the overhead light, heated the formula and poured the liquid into Quinn’s bottle. But as she tried to add water to the pan with one hand, it slipped, clanging Quinn into instant, startled tears.
“I’m sorry,” she crooned, setting the bottle on the counter to free both her arms for soothing. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It was just a loud noise. Nothing really scary.” Like the nightmares she still had of the day her Julia had been taken.
“Everything all right?” Calder, wearing nothing but athletic shorts, hovered on the kitchen’s threshold. As was beginning to be habit, her mouth went dry at just the sight of him and her pulse raced. At what point did her body get the memo that as her boss, not only was the man off limits, but she had no interest in romance—period? Her life’s sole focus was regaining custody of her child.
“Fine,” she murmured, wishing she wore more than a flimsy, too-short nightgown. “Sorry we woke you. I dropped a pan, which scared this guy.”
“Glad it was nothing major.” He ambled toward the fridge. “Got anything good in here?”
“There’s leftover meat loaf from dinner. If you’ll take Quinn, I’ll make you a sandwich.”
He groaned. “I know making late-night snacks for me is hardly the job description I gave to your agency, but man, does that sound like a good trade.”
Laughing, she handed him the baby, trying to ignore the almost
