were only millimeters apart. His warm breath fanned her face. Longing burst inside her. Her fingers itched to touch the stubble on his cheeks and cruise his throat. Just a brush. Just a touch to feel the warmth of another’s skin. To feel the pulse of another heartbeat, to know that she was alive.
His hands shifted from the stick to her shoulders and he lifted her from the awkward position of leaning across the table. For a few seconds, they stood there, barely a foot apart. She watched myriad emotions play across his face, as if he were arguing with himself about whether he should kiss her. It crossed her mind to say something. It crossed her mind to run. This attraction they felt was nothing but wrong, but curiosity and need warred with common sense. This entire night had been an experiment of sorts for her. A return to life. To people. She didn’t want to stop. She almost couldn’t stop. She needed him to kiss her as much as she wanted it.
Slowly his head descended, as if he were giving her plenty of time to step back. She considered it, but stayed frozen, mesmerized, hoping, and in seconds his mouth met hers.
A tsunami of need flooded her, a yearning so strong she shook from it. His hands smoothed from her shoulders, down her back to her hips and nudged her closer. The longing to be held, to be loved, to be touched percolated through her. He satisfied it with another nudge that brought her fully against him. Her breasts nestled against his chest, pebbling her nipples. His mouth moved over hers simply, smoothly, and temptation turned into action as her mouth instinctively opened under his and he deepened the kiss.
Desire thundered through her. Warm, wet need. Her limbs weakened. Her breath hitched. And her brain clicked on again, like a light switch being flipped in a dark, dangerous room.
This is wrong! This is wrong! This is wrong!
The words were a litany in her brain. Not only was she not ready for anything beyond a chaste, experimental kiss, but the night before she’d sensed there was something wrong in his behavior. Something he wanted from her. Or maybe that he was trying to trick her. She shouldn’t be kissing him, clouding the issues.
The sound of someone clearing her throat entered the room and Whitney jumped back like a guilty teenager.
Joni Johnson, the girl who had served dinner, stood by the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Andreas, but Mrs. Tucker asked me to get you. The baby is sick.”
DARIUS AND WHITNEY raced behind Joni, who led them up the back steps. When they reached the nursery, Darius pushed ahead, not caring about decorum, and ran into the room.
Gino lay in the crib, crying. Darius reached down and scooped the little boy into his arms. “Hey, little guy. What’s up?”
“I’ve already called the pediatrician,” Mrs. Tucker said, wringing her hands. “He said he’d be here as soon as he can.”
Gino snuggled against Darius and cried harder.
“I couldn’t get him to drink his evening bottle and now he won’t stop crying.” Mrs. Tucker’s voice was strained and anxious. “I’m not a nanny and my only child is over thirty. It’s been so long since I cared for a baby that I have no idea what’s wrong.”
Whitney peered at Gino over Darius’s shoulder. “Can I hold him?”
Darius caught her gaze and the instant he did, he regretted it. Thoughts of their kiss devoured his mind and desire arched between them. He couldn’t believe he’d broken the promise he’d made to himself not to kiss her, but he had. Part of him wasn’t sorry. They had chemistry that just wouldn’t quit and if they were in a position to pursue it they’d probably set his bedroom on fire. He couldn’t resist a taste.
But they weren’t in a position to pursue it, and there would be consequences. Especially for this little boy if he didn’t handle the situation correctly.
He swallowed and handed Gino to her. “Here.”
After laying the baby across her arm, she studied his face, pressed her hand to his forehead, looked into his mouth. “I think he’s getting a tooth.”
Furious that she could be so flippant, Darius pinned her with a hard stare. “I think we should let the pediatrician decide.”
“Oh, of course!” she said, handing the baby back to him. “I’m just saying that there’s no reason for us to panic while we wait for the doctor to arrive.”
Mrs. Tucker visibly relaxed. “I should have thought of that. But it’s just been so long since I’ve had kids.” She sank into the rocker. “If I may make a suggestion, sir, I think we should get a nanny here as soon as possible.” She sighed heavily, as if having trouble getting her breathing to regulate, and Darius realized just how worried poor Mrs. Tucker had been.
But his eyes narrowed in on Whitney, the woman he shared custody with, and he suddenly wondered how she knew so much about babies. She’d said she’d been married, but she hadn’t mentioned children. If she’d had them and her husband had gotten custody, there had to be a reason for that. If there was something god-awful in her past that made her husband a better candidate to have her children than she was, he wanted to know what it was.
“I’ll just go back to the kitchen, then,” Mrs. Tucker announced, rising from the rocker and heading for the door.
“Sure,” Darius said. “We’ll be fine.” Plus, he wanted some time alone with Whitney. Since the day they’d met at her dad’s office, he’d been so preoccupied with getting along with her that he’d let all the inconsistencies in her life slide. That ended here. That ended now.
Darius sat on the rocker. Gino snuggled against him, sniffling, but relaxing against his sweater as if seeking comfort. His heart warmed with emotion. He was falling in love with this kid. In only two days, the little boy was getting to him.
But that was all the more reason to make sure he knew Gino’s “other” guardian. His dad might have approved Whitney, but his dad hadn’t planned on dying. He might have simply decided to placate Missy and agreed to appoint Whitney as shared custodian. Given that she was the daughter of his friend and the friend of Gino’s mom, he might not have checked into her past the way he should have.
“So, are you going to tell me how you know so much about babies?”
She walked away from him toward the window, but didn’t answer his question.
“I can have you investigated, you know. Or maybe even guess. A woman who was married but lost custody of her children to her husband probably has a skeleton in her closet.”
She sucked in a breath, refusing to look at him. Darius squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it! If he hadn’t needed her help so much, he would have realized something was off with her before this. He wouldn’t have silenced his instincts, and he would have confronted her.
“You know what? Don’t tell me. Go back to your room and pack. Because I’m going to contest that damned will. I’m getting you away from my baby.”
“Don’t.” She turned, her eyes filled with tortured pain. He could easily guess why.
“Why not? Don’t want a courtroom full of people to hear why you shouldn’t be around a child? Why you don’t have your own?”
