Baby Beneath the Christmas Tree. SUSAN MEIER

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that a guy who can’t get along with his son would like having another parent around for some help and advice.”

      An unexpected laugh escaped him. “You think you’re going to straighten out Brody?”

      “Nope.” She headed for the door. “But I might have some ideas for how you could.”

      He snorted in derision. “Right. You’ve been a parent now … what? All of two months?”

      She turned and smiled. “Three. But I was sixteen only a few years ago. I think I might remember a bit more about what it was like than you do.”

      Drew’s eyes narrowed and Gwen’s stomach shivered. She knew she should probably shut up, but he was in trouble with Brody and that seemed like her only angle to keep this job. Now that he’d shrugged out of the thick parka, she could not only see his expensive blue sweater, she could also see that the body he’d hidden beneath his jacket was incredible. Soft knit hugged his broad shoulders and flat tummy and stopped at trim hips encased in denim. He was handsome, rich, and he held her fate in his hands …

      And she was taunting him? Was she crazy?

      “Are you calling me old?”

      She should be. She should think that a guy in his mid-thirties was way too old for her. She should think he was too grouchy for her. Instead, all she saw was a handsome, sexy guy who needed her help. And, strangely, even with as many problems as she had of her own, she actually thought she could provide it.

      She lifted her chin. Caught his gaze. “No. I’m not calling you old.”

      Their gazes clung. Time seemed to be suspended. She had a feeling she didn’t have to tell him she didn’t think he was old because she found him attractive. It was probably written all over her reddening face.

      “But you do need me.”

      He crossed his arms on his chest as his gaze rippled over her. Suddenly feeling like a downtrodden waif, brought to the castle for the king’s pleasure, Gwen cuddled Claire to her chest.

      “You’re dusty.”

      That wasn’t at all what she’d expected him to say. So nervous her voice shook, she said, “I cleaned the maid’s quarters so Claire would have somewhere to sleep.”

      He said nothing, only narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to figure out if she was lying. So she hastily added, “I brought my vacuum, cleaning solutions and a bucket and mop from home.”

      “You know how to clean?”

      She frowned. “Of course I know how to clean.” A thought struck her and she said, “You don’t?”

      He shook his head.

      Her spirits lifted. “There’s another thing I could help you with.”

      He raked his fingers through his hair and looked at sleeping Claire again. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he drew the obvious conclusions. Claire wasn’t a bad baby. Gwen knew how to clean. And this place was filthy.

      “I won’t even ask for more money.”

      His mouth dropped open, then he snorted a laugh. “Right. As if you’re in a position to bargain.”

      “Come on,” Gwen said, a slight note of feminine pleading in her voice. She instantly regretted it when his gaze caught hers and that “thing” sprang up between them again. The air she breathed turned hot and shivery. Something like electricity arched between them.

      It was another item in the laundry list of problems they had. His son was trouble. The house wasn’t falling apart around them, but did need a good cleaning. She had a baby who might disrupt everything. And they were attracted to each other.

      But he also had a business he was trying to buy. In their phone interview he’d told her he needed to be in West Virginia to be close to the seller. And now he needed somebody who could bring order to the chaos of this house.

      “Maybe I should ask for more money?” Cheeky, perhaps even a tad over-confident, she strolled over to him. “You’re stuck here. There is no cleaning service in Towering Pines. You’re also lucky you found me—an administrative assistant who doesn’t mind a temporary job and has time to work at your beck and call. You have what? Four weeks to negotiate this deal before Jimmy Lane loses interest and moves on?” She smiled. “I think you’re the one who isn’t in a position to negotiate.”

      He held her gaze. “So you’re saying it wouldn’t cause a problem for you if I asked you to clean this kitchen while I left for a conference call?”

      “Are you going to give me the raise?”

      “How much?”

      “Another two thousand.”

      His eyes narrowed, but they never left hers. “All right. But you’d better be worth it.”

      She strolled away, suddenly seeing that the best way to communicate with this man was as an equal. And maybe that was what Brody was doing wrong? Not quite sure where that thought had come from, she shook her head to dislodge it and went back to the negotiations at hand.

      “Sure. I’ll clean in between administrative assistant assignments. As long as you don’t mind that I wear old jeans and ugly sweatshirts.”

      He crossed his arms on his chest. “Look around. There’s nobody here to impress. And even if there were this house would ruin any chance we had of impressing them.”

      She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Yeah. Big-time.”

      “So we have a deal? You work as my administrative assistant when I need you and clean in your downtime. You can dress any way you want and bring your baby.” He caught her gaze again. “As long as you keep her out of my way.”

      “Does ‘out of your way’ mean you don’t want to see her? Because I was hoping I could keep her in the same room with me. I have a swing that will rock her to sleep and keep her sleeping for hours.”

      He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, but in the end he sighed and said, “Fine. But if she cries you leave the room.”

      “Got it.”

      “Great. As long as we stick to our commitments, this should work out fine.” He walked over and held out his hand to shake on the deal.

      When Gwen took it, little sparkles of awareness danced up her arm. Their gazes caught and clung.

      Now all they had to do was forget about their attraction.

      CHAPTER THREE

      DREW turned to leave the room, his hand tingling from just touching Gwen’s. He told himself it was ridiculous to be attracted to somebody closer to Brody’s age than his own—and with a baby, no less—but it didn’t stop the tightness that had captured his chest.

      “Um, Drew?”

      He stopped. Half afraid she was about to say something about their attraction—maybe even tell

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