he was too sick to live alone, so she had stayed with him instead, on the pull-out couch of the dinky one-bedroom apartment he’d had to take when he went on disability. She had never really had a place of her own. And from the looks of it, she wouldn’t for a very long time. But if that meant the girls would be happy and well taken care of, it was a sacrifice she was happy to make.
“I just need to pack my clothes and a few personal items,” she told him. “I can do that today and move everything over tomorrow.”
“And work? You don’t need to give them notice?”
She shook her head. She was taking a chance burning that bridge, but being with the girls as soon as possible took precedence. As long as they needed her, she wouldn’t be going back to nursing anyway.
“I’ll have Ben, my lawyer, draw up the contract this afternoon,” he said. “Considering my former profession there are privacy issues.”
“I understand.”
“And of course you’re welcome to have your own lawyer look at it before you sign.”
“I’ll call him today.”
“Great. Why don’t I show you the girls’ room, and where you’ll be staying?”
“Okay.”
They got up from the floor and he led her down the hall, Ivy in his arms and Sierra holding Fern, who seemed perfectly content despite Sierra being a relative stranger. Was it possible that she sensed the mother-daughter connection? Or was she just a friendly, outgoing baby?
“This is the nursery,” he said, indicating a door on the left and gesturing her inside. It was by far the largest and prettiest little girls’ room she had ever laid eyes on. The color scheme was pale pink and pastel green. The walls, bedding, curtains and even the carpet looked fluffy and soft, like cotton candy. Matching white cribs perched side by side, and a white rocking chair sat in the corner next to the window. She could just imagine herself holding the girls close, singing them a lullaby and rocking them to sleep.
This room was exactly what she would have wanted for them but never could have afforded. With her they wouldn’t have had more than a tiny corner of her bedroom.
“It’s beautiful, Cooper.”
“It’s Coop,” he said and flashed that easy grin. “No one but my mom called me Cooper, and that was usually when she was angry about something. And as for the room, I can’t take credit. It’s an exact reproduction of their room at Ash and Susan’s. I thought it might make the transition easier for them.”
Once again he had surprised her. Maybe he wasn’t quite as self-centered as she first imagined. Or maybe he was only playing the role of responsible uncle out of necessity. Maybe once he had her there to take care of the girls for him, he would live up to his party reputation, including the supposedly revolving bedroom door. Time would tell.
“They have their own bathroom and a walk-in closet over there,” he said, gesturing to a closed door across the room.
She walked over and opened it. The closet was huge! Toys lined either side of the floor—things they had used and some still in the original boxes. Seeing them, Fern shifted restlessly in Sierra’s arms, clearly wanting to get down and play.
From the bars hung a wardrobe big enough for a dozen infants. Dresses and jumpers and tiny pairs of jeans and shirts—all designer labels and many with the tags still attached, and all in duplicate. In her wildest dreams Sierra never could have afforded even close to this many clothes, and certainly not this quality. They were neatly organized by style, color and size—all spelled out on sticky notes on the shelf above the bar.
Sierra had never seen anything like it. “Wow. Did you do this?”
“God, no,” Coop said. “This is Ms. Densmore’s thing. She’s a little fanatical about organization.”
“Just a little.” She would have a coronary if she looked in Sierra’s closet. Besides being just a fraction the size, it was so piled with junk she could barely close the door. Neatness had never been one of her strong suits. That had been okay living with her dad, who was never tidy himself, but here she would have to make an effort to be more organized.
“The bathroom is through there,” Coop said, walking past her to open the door, filling the air with the delicious scent of soap and man. The guy really did smell great, and though it was silly, he looked even more attractive holding the baby, which made no sense at all. Or maybe it was just that she’d always been a sucker for a man who was good with kids—because in her profession she had seen too many who weren’t. Dead-beat dads who couldn’t even be bothered to visit their sick child in the hospital. And of course there were the abusive dads who put their kids in the hospital. Those were the really heartbreaking cases and one of the reasons she had transferred from pediatrics to the NICU.
But having an easy way with an infant didn’t make a man a good father, she reminded herself. Neither did giving them a big beautiful bedroom or an enormous closet filled with toys and designer clothes. The twins needed nurturing, they needed to know that even though their parents were gone, someone still loved them and cared about them.
She held Fern closer and rubbed her back, and the infant laid her head on Sierra’s shoulder, her thumb tucked in her mouth.
“I’ll show you your room,” Coop said, and she followed him to the bedroom across the hall. It was even larger than the girls’ room, with the added bonus of a cozy sitting area by the window. With the bedroom, walk-in closet and private bath, it was larger than her entire apartment. All that was missing was the tiny, galley-style kitchen, but she had a gourmet kitchen just a few rooms away at her disposal.
The furnishings and decor weren’t exactly her style. The black, white and gray color scheme was too modern and cold and the steel and glass furnishings were a bit masculine, but bringing some of her own things in would liven it up a little. She could learn to live with it.
“That bad, huh?”
Startled by the comment, Sierra looked over at Coop. He was frowning. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.
You hate it.”
“I don’t hate it.”
One brow tipped up. “Now you’re lying.”
“It’s not what I would have chosen, but it’s very … stylish.”
He laughed. “You are so lying. You think it’s terrible.”
She bit her lip to keep from smiling, but the corners of her mouth tipped up regardless. “I’ll get used to it.”
“I’ll call my decorator. You can fix it however you like. Paint, furniture, the works.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that wouldn’t be necessary, and he held up one ridiculously large palm to shush her. “Do you really think I’m going to let you stay in a room you despise? This is going to be your home. I want you to be comfortable here.”
She wondered if he was always this nice, or if he was just so desperate for a reliable nanny he would do anything to convince her to take
