drawn as he took off the paper cap that had covered his hair. “Mr. and Mrs. Clancy?”
“Yes?” Rebecca’s mother grabbed her husband’s hand. “Is she out of surgery? How is she?”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news. Rebecca fought hard, but her body had—”
“She’s gone?” Mr. Clancy said, his voice hoarse.
The doctor nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Clancy let out a loud, broken sob and slumped against her husband, who pulled her against him. The noise made Bonnie’s face crumple, then she began to wail. Stunned, Liam looked down at her. Her mother had just died. She was motherless. Her life would always be affected by this one tragic incident.
And he had no idea what to do.
The midwife rushed through the door, jostling to get past the doctor, who was still talking to Rebecca’s parents, and took Bonnie from him. Liam watched her soothe Bonnie as if from a distance. As if it wasn’t really happening.
“I’m so sorry about the news, Mr. Hawke,” she said.
“What—” He cleared his throat. “What happens to Bonnie now?”
“Rebecca had already filled in the birth certificate and named you as the father. So as far as the hospital is concerned, you have custody of her. If you don’t want her, I know Rebecca’s parents were talking about raising her. How about I call the social worker to help you sort through your options?”
Bonnie had calmed down to a mild hiccup. Bonnie. His baby. She had worked her little arm free from the blanket and was waving it in the air. He reached out to touch her tiny fist, enclosing it in his.
“There’s no need,” he said and met the midwife’s gaze. “Bonnie will live with me. I’ll raise my own daughter.”
The midwife smiled in approval. “We’ll show you some basics, like how to feed her, then you’ll be on your way. She’s already had all her tests and passed everything with flying colors.”
Liam blinked. Now? Just like that? He knew next to nothing about babies....
Suddenly Rebecca’s mother was in front of them, making a grab for the baby. “I’ll take her,” she said, shooting Liam a defiant look. “We’re going home.”
Unperturbed, the midwife handed Bonnie to Liam. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Hawke is her father. Your daughter named him on the birth certificate. He has custody.”
Mr. Clancy came to stand beside his wife and narrowed reddened eyes at Liam. “We’ll see about that. He’s not fit to raise a baby and I’ll say that in court if I have to.”
Liam didn’t flinch. The Clancys could try whatever they liked. No one was taking his daughter from him.
* * *
As Jenna arranged the last of the weekly flower delivery—fragrant jasmine and sunshine-yellow lilies today—into a crystal vase, she heard her boss, Dylan Hawke, arrive home from an all-nighter. Judging by the voices coming from the penthouse foyer, his brother Liam was with him. Liam had a smooth, deep voice that always made her melt....
And that is a completely inappropriate way to think about your employer’s family. Or any man. It had been falling for a man and forgetting her duty that had put her in this position.
She gathered up the flower stems she’d trimmed and ducked into the hall before the men made it into the living room. One of the things she’d learned growing up in a royal palace was that housekeepers were expected to keep a low profile—like magic cleaning and cooking fairies who were rarely seen.
From the adjoining kitchen, she heard a baby’s cry and she stilled. It sounded like the cry of a newborn. Her arms ached for her own little Meg, but she was in day care, and at eight months old, her cry was different. Her boss, Dylan, and his two brothers, Liam and Adam, were all bachelors, and none of Dylan’s friends had been expecting as far as she knew. She’d been pregnant herself for part of the time she’d worked here, so an expectant mother would have caught her attention.
Footsteps sounded down the hall, and then Dylan’s face appeared around the corner. “Jenna, we could use your help with a slight baby problem.”
“Sure,” she said, wiping her hands and following him back out. The Santa Monica penthouse apartment’s large living room was decorated in whites and neutrals so the only spots of color were the flowers she’d just arranged and the two men who stood in the center, one awkwardly holding the tiny bundle that was now crying loudly. Jenna breathed an “ohhh,” her arms aching with the need to comfort the little thing.
As they approached, Liam glanced up at his brother, then back to the baby he was gently jiggling. Even as her heart sighed at the sight of the six-foot-plus man with the tiny pink bundle, Jenna frowned. Who would leave their new baby with two clueless men? Despite being respected and feared businessmen, they were clearly out of their depth.
“Liam,” Dylan said. “You remember Jenna. She’ll know what to do.”
Jenna glanced at her boss and asked in an undertone, “What to do about what, exactly?”
He stared blankly at her and then shrugged. “About the baby,” he whispered.
Right. Well, maybe if she could calm the baby, she could find out what she needed to do.
“Yes,” she said, her eyes on the little person nestled in Liam’s strong arms. “Maybe I can help?”
Liam regarded her with an assessing gaze—he was less certain of her ability. He needed help—that was evident from the baby’s cries becoming more desperate and the awkward way he was holding her—but his eyes held a fierce protectiveness. He wasn’t handing this baby over to just anyone. She respected that—in fact, the sight of a man being so protective brought a lump of emotion to her throat. She’d have to lay his fears to rest if she was going to help.
“Hi, Mr. Hawke,” she said, smiling brightly. “I’m not sure you remember me, but I’m Jenna Peters.” She generally tried to stay out of the way when Dylan had guests, so she and Liam had never had a conversation, but she hoped he might at least recognize her.
He nodded in acknowledgment, but he then turned his attention back to the tiny, squirming girl he held.
“I have an eight-month-old daughter, Meg, and she cried like this when I first brought her home. Would you like me to try some of the tricks I learned with Meg on this little girl?”
Liam looked down at the baby, stroked a fingertip softly down her cheek, took a deep breath and oh-so-carefully placed the baby in Jenna’s arms.
“Bonnie,” he said, his voice rough. “Her name is Bonnie.”
As he said the name, his dark green eyes softened and Jenna’s stomach looped. He was still standing close, as if not wanting to be too far from the baby. Jenna shivered. She could feel the heat from his body, see the day’s growth of dark beard, smell the masculine scent of his skin....
She stepped back, away from this man’s aura. The priority here was Bonnie.
Jenna pulled the pale pink blanket
