looked into Linc’s eyes. “That’s why I can’t take care of Ellie, why I can’t take full responsibility for her. It’s not who I am, not what I want to do. I need to be free.”
A sad smile touched the corners of Linc’s mouth. After a minute of tense silence, he lifted his hand to rub his thumb over her bottom lip.
“At least you’re honest, Tate.” Linc looked across the road to a brightly painted purple door, and Tate followed his eyes. To the side of the door she saw the discreet sign stating that this building was home to ChildTime.
Even Tate, who had little to no knowledge of kids and schools, had heard of the most expensive and exclusive pre-K in the city. Of course Shaw would attend this pre-K; she kept forgetting that his father was a Ballantyne, one of the most influential and respected businessmen in the city.
She was also finding it difficult to remember that he probably would, in a week or so, be her boss. She would be, officially, his nanny. They had a deal.
And, really, sleeping with her boss—in any capacity—would be so very tacky. Of course, her long neglected libido and her common sense didn’t give even half a hoot.
* * *
Tate, one hand on Ellie’s stroller and the other holding Shaw’s hand, heard her phone ringing in her pocket and knew that the call would be from Linc. Again.
It would be his fourth call in ninety minutes, and Tate debated answering. But, genetically unable to ignore a ringing phone, she sighed with resignation and pulled her phone out of her pocket.
She rolled her eyes at the name on display. Yep, Mr. Paranoid was checking up on her. Over the last week or so, they’d found some sort of routine. Linc took Shaw to school, and then he went to the office, leaving midafternoon to collect Shaw from pre-K. At The Den, they shared a cup of coffee, and then Linc went into his home office to work while Tate took charge of the kids.
They both spent a lot of time thinking about what making love would feel like. Well, Tate knew she did. Far more than was healthy.
But today was different as Linc had called around lunchtime to ask whether she could collect Shaw from school, stating that he couldn’t get away from his desk. He then called her forty-five minutes later to remind her to collect Shaw, and then Amy, his assistant, called her to check that she was on her way. The man had serious trust issues, Tate thought. Then again, he had lived with Kari, so she couldn’t blame him.
Tate looked at her still-ringing phone. There was no doubt that Linc wanted to know that she had Shaw.
Knowing that the call was about to drop, Tate finally answered. Linc’s voice, deep and sexy, but holding a trace of anxiety, flowed into her ear. “I didn’t think you were going to answer.”
Tate rolled her eyes. “Hi, Linc.”
“I’m just checking to see if the school released Shaw to you without any problems. They are sticky about who picks up the kids and when.”
Tate decided to have some fun with him. “Oh, God... Is that the time? Was I supposed to collect him? Is it really half past three?”
There was a long beat of silence. Linc was probably deciding whether she was messing with him or not, or he was making plans to put a hit out on her so Tate handed her phone to Shaw. “Say hi to your dad.”
“Hi, Dad!” Shaw said into the phone, always happy to talk to Linc.
Linc spoke, and Tate’s eyes hit the back of her skull when she heard Shaw’s answer. “Yes, Tate was waiting for me when I came out. No, I didn’t have to wait for her. Oh, and Dad? I need a lot of cupcakes for tomorrow. Like, hundreds.”
Tate heard Linc’s loud groan and bent her fingers at Shaw, gesturing him to hand the phone over. Lifting the phone to her ear, she pushed the stroller with one hand and headed for home. “You sound like you are about to have a coronary, Ballantyne. I have your kid and we’re heading home.”
“Did you hear what he said about cupcakes?” Linc demanded, and Tate could imagine him running his hands through his hair.
Okay, this wasn’t a big deal. “There are about a million bakeries in Manhattan. Send one of your minions to buy however many you need. Easy peasy.”
“Nothing about ChildTime is that easy.” Linc growled. “Hold on a sec. I’ll see if they sent an email about this.”
Tate pushed the stroller and idly listened to Shaw talking animatedly to Ellie as she waited for Linc to come back on the line. When he did, there was tension in his voice. “Yep, I found it. It was something I thought Jo would handle, so I ignored it. And, as per usual, they’ve complicated the process. They would prefer the twenty-four cupcakes to be homemade, preferably with the child being involved in the process.”
“So buying the cupcakes is out.”
“Yep, the school actively promotes families spending time together. Crap, I need this like I need a hole in the head. I have this damned photo shoot tonight, and the family is coming over for supper, and I now have to make cupcakes! Shoot me already.”
“Twenty-four?” Tate demanded. “How many kids are they feeding?”
“They are asking for extra so that they can donate them to shelters for abused women and kids.”
That’s a nice gesture, Tate thought, slightly mollified. “What photo shoot?” she asked, recalling his previous comment.
“Our PR expert has the four of us in a series of print advertisements, all of us dressed the same and holding a piece of jewelry or a gemstone we have an emotional connection to,” Linc explained. “The idea is to get people to the website to read up on our stones and the story behind them, hoping that they will see something they like on the site and part with their cash to have it.”
Tate remembered seeing the ads featuring Jaeger. She’d done exactly what he’d mentioned—she’d read up on how he’d proposed to Piper with the Kashmir sapphire featured in his ad. “It’s such a great idea. Is the campaign working?”
“Yeah, we’ve had good responses to Jaeger’s and Beck’s ads,” Linc replied.
Shaw tugged on her sleeve, and she looked down to see his worried expression. He was four, and he wanted to take cupcakes to school. Tate sent him a reassuring smile.
“Hold on a sec, Linc, while I talk to Shaw.” She turned to Shaw and asked, “What if I make the cupcakes and you and Dad decorate them? Would that work?”
Shaw nodded enthusiastically. “Can we make animal cupcakes? Or space monsters?”
Oh, dear Lord. What had she got herself into? Animals? Space monsters...? Well, with the aid of the internet, hopefully she’d figure something out.
“Is that okay with you, Linc?” Tate spoke into the phone again.
“I know you can cook, but can you bake?” Linc asked in her ear, his tone doubtful.
Tate pulled a face. She was a travel and food journalist and a fairly good chef, so whipping up a batch of cupcakes wouldn’t strain her culinary repertoire.
“Can you? And more important,
