not surprised.” After all, he’d made no attempt to talk to her the few times their paths had crossed. Quite the opposite, actually. Whenever she did see him, he’d hurried away, as if exchanging any sort of pleasantries was superfluous behavior.
“Mama’s name is Claire,” Libby announced. “She’s got another name, and it’s like mine. Walker. What’s your other name?” Libby had asked the man his name before, but he’d never told her. She thought now was a good time to find out, since they were talking about names.
Claire. It made him think of someone old-fashioned. Someone quiet. So much for a perfect match. “Quartermain,” he told Libby, but his eyes were on Claire. “Evan Quartermain.”
A smile, still amused, but softer somehow, he thought, graced her mouth.
“How do you do, Evan Quartermain?”
“Lousy,” he answered honestly. Apparently unable to find satisfaction by trying to eat her foot, Rachel began to fuss again. He really didn’t have time for this. Evan held out his burden toward Claire. “So, Claire, will you?”
He still hadn’t made the terms clear, and she knew the danger of agreements made without boundaries. “Will I what?”
Was she being obtuse on purpose? “Will you take care of the baby? Rachel,” he amended. Then, when she gave no answer, he said, “Her!” For emphasis, Evan thrust the baby seat even farther toward Claire.
Because she felt sorry for Rachel and because she was afraid of where Evan might decide to swing the seat next, Claire grabbed hold of the sides and took it from him.
“You’re going to make her sick,” she chided with a sternness she used on Libby only when the girl was particularly trying.
Both her tone and her expression softened as she looked down at the small, puckered face that was about to let out another lusty yell. She angled the seat so that Libby could get a good view, as well.
Claire ran the side of her finger along the silky, damp cheek. “It’s okay, honey, I’ve got you now. No more wild rides with Mr. Grump.”
Claire raised her eyes to his. The soft expression faded slowly, like sunlight descending into shadows. He couldn’t tell exactly what she thought of him and he really didn’t care—as long as she helped him out.
Something told Claire she was going to regret this, but she couldn’t bring herself to just turn her back on the baby. She knew others who could, but that wasn’t her way. Claire pressed her lips together, prepared to make the best of this.
“How long a time are we talking about? An hour? Two?”
He could lie to her, Evan supposed. But he hated lies. For one thing, the truth was difficult enough to keep track of. Lies were impossible, even little ones.
“For openers,” he began, watching her face, “the rest of the afternoon.”
Openers? And what exactly did that mean? She had a strange feeling that she didn’t want to know. What had started out as a neighborly response to a cry for help was quickly turning into something else. She was beginning to feel like an innocent insect that had flown unknowingly into a spider web.
But one look at Rachel’s face told her that struggling was useless. Still, she couldn’t let him know that. He seemed the type to take advantage.
Claire began to shake her head. “I don’t—”
He wouldn’t lie, but he was not above bribery in matters that counted. And he was desperate. Without thinking, he placed his hands on her arms in supplication, framing her body.
“Look, I was serious when I said I’d pay you. I will, really. Any amount, I just—” He was babbling like a fool, he upbraided himself. Evan took another deep breath, making a heartfelt appeal to, he hoped, her better instincts. “I’m just really in a bind.”
The idea of fatherhood really had him baffled, she thought. Claire glanced at Rachel before looking back at Evan. Just what was the story behind the gentleman and the baby? Rachel obviously looked as if she was his daughter. They had the same black hair, the same green eyes. Most babies’ eyes were blue when they were this young. To have a distinct color so early really pointed a finger at her parentage.
“I can see that.”
Relief began to surface in Evan, only to founder when she added, “And your sense of smell isn’t too keen, either.”
Eyebrows narrowed over a nose that sculptors only prayed they could duplicate. “Sense of smell?”
She didn’t think she was talking in code. He was so hopelessly out of his league right now, it was as if all his faculties had been anesthetized.
With a quick nod for his benefit, Claire indicated Rachel. “Your daughter’s ripe, Mr. Quartermain. I’d say she needed changing about fifteen minutes ago.” He should have attended to that immediately. That he didn’t just underscored how hopelessly inexperienced he was.
“Changing?” Evan looked around as if he expected a diaper to materialize out of thin air. Well, why the hell not? Rachel had. When his eyes returned to Claire’s face, they were tinged with disbelief. She couldn’t possibly mean that she thought he should do the changing. He hadn’t the faintest idea where to begin.
This was one dyed-in-the-wool bachelor, Claire thought Pity filled her—not for Evan, but for the baby.
“Come with me,” she instructed. Still carrying the baby seat, Claire walked to the front door. The lack of movement behind her told her that he wasn’t following. She looked over her shoulder at Evan expectantly. “Well?”
This was a dream, he thought, a bad dream. Any second, he was going to wake up and find that he’d just fallen asleep over the report he’d been reading. It certainly had been boring enough to put him out.
But he didn’t wake up. This was miserably real.
Ten small fingers were wrapping themselves around his hand like miniature tentacles of an octopus. Libby pulled at him. “Mama says to come.”
What was he, a dog?
Grudgingly, Evan followed in Claire’s wake, noting, purely on a disinterested level, that her wake was quite an attractive one.
“I think I still have a box of Libby’s old diapers,” Claire was saying to him as she walked into her own living room.
Still holding on to his hand, Libby pouted. “I don’t wear diapers, Mama.”
, She’d embarrassed her, Claire thought, and delicately retraced her verbal steps. “Not anymore, but you did when you were Rachel’s age. Everybody did, honey.” She glanced at Evan. “Even Mr. Quartermain.”
The thought of the tall, serious-looking man beside her wearing diapers had Libby releasing his hand to cover her mouth as giggles pealed out. She nearly fell on the floor, laughing.
Satisfied, Claire set the baby seat down on the coffee table. Wide and square, it looked as if it were built to support an elephant.
“Actually, I never used the ones I’m going to lend you,”
