I want to do my end of the duties.”
“So you’re going to learn how to do everything? ”
To her surprise, he wasn’t insulted. He laughed. “Hey, I just changed a diaper. I think my commitment has been proven.”
Not even close. Particularly since she didn’t understand why he was making such a hands-on commitment.
Sure, he didn’t want Gino to grow up without a dad. She got it. But there was more here. Her lawyer’s instincts had gone from suspicious to downright positive there was something here she was missing.
“Okay, then tomorrow morning, we’ll hit the ground running with your baby lessons.”
He laughed, but Whitney wasn’t kidding. Not just because she was afraid to touch Gino too much, but because she wanted to push Darius to the wall, give him so much baby time he would own up to what was really going on.
When the baby was dressed, Darius pulled him off the table and gave him a quick hug and kissed his cheek. “Good night, little guy.”
Then he handed the baby to Whitney. Preoccupied with his motives, she didn’t realize what he was about to do and had to scramble to catch Gino.
But the second the yawning baby was in her arms, the feel of his ultra-soft pajamas and smooth skin kicked her back in time again. Especially, when she brought Gino to her and hugged him. The second the little boy was snuggled against her, sadness overwhelmed her. The hollow, empty feeling of loss. Echoes of Layla’s giggles rolled through her brain. Memories of her lifeless body haunted her.
She pulled Gino away from her shoulder and swallowed. Then, for Darius’s benefit, she offered the baby a wobbly smile. “Good night, Gino,” she whispered hoarsely, hoping Darius didn’t notice she was trembling.
Because she wanted to cry. She missed her baby. She yearned for the life she’d lost. Was that so bad? So hard to understand?
She stopped. No. That wasn’t so bad. Or so difficult to comprehend. In fact, the smart way to handle her situation with Gino might be to tell Darius about Layla and Burn. She didn’t want his sympathy, but it was clear now that she would have difficulty getting adjusted to caring for a baby. Soon Darius would notice. It would be better to get the story out in the open and solicit his help than to have him see her stumble and question her ability to care for his little brother.
But tonight wasn’t the night for that conversation. With his motives now in question, she knew she had to wait a bit, see what he was up to before she bared her soul. If he was trying to get the baby away from her, she didn’t want to hand him over on a silver platter. She’d wait. See if he didn’t tip his hand or, alternatively, convince her that his motives were good.
Once the baby was in bed, Darius caught Whitney’s arm and turned her to the door. “It’s late. I’ll show you to your room then we can have dinner.”
Exhausted, confused and aching for privacy, she woodenly said, “I’m too tired for dinner.”
“Really?” As they stepped out of the nursery and into the hall, he closed the door behind them. “I instructed Mrs. Tucker to have the cook make chicken and dumplings.”
She turned, startled. “Chicken and dumplings?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
How could he know her favorite food?
“I called your dad while you were in your apartment packing for the weekend.” he said, undoubtedly answering the expression of confusion on her face, and directed her to walk to a door a few feet down the hall. “I figured if you could be kind enough to let me have at least the weekend with the three of us at my home, I could be gentleman enough to assure you ate well.”
She quickened her steps down the hall, wishing he hadn’t done something so nice when she was so tired, but at least slightly more comfortable with him. “I’ll have some for lunch tomorrow.”
She wasn’t sure why she expected him to argue, but her suspicions were allayed even more when he simply said, “Good enough.”
He stopped at a door only a few feet from the nursery. “Your suite?”
Feeling a tad foolish, she retraced her steps and stopped in front of him. He smiled slightly. Sexily.
Strange schoolgirl nervousness swept through her, reminding her of the first time she’d ever stood by a door with a boy, knowing he was about to kiss her goodnight. Awareness tingled through her bloodstream. Her breathing went shallow and her legs turned to rubber. It had been so long since she’d reacted to a man that she’d forgotten the wonderful discomfort.
But Darius caught the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door, revealing a soft green-and-yellow room to her. Beyond the sitting room furnished with a sage-colored sofa and chair, accented by a cherrywood armoire with matching cherrywood end tables, was an open door leading to a bedroom. She could see patches of a yellow-and-sage-green bedspread. See the closed yellow drapes.
Her heart skipped a beat. The suite was calm, soothing. So different from her cool aqua and brown bedroom in her condo that she felt as if she was entering another world.
“Is something wrong?”
She spun to face him. “No. It’s—” Warm, inviting, comforting. She swallowed. “—Lovely. I’m sure I’ll be fine here.”
“Let me make sure everything really is ready before I leave you.” He stepped inside the sitting room, casually looking from left to right as he made his way to the bedroom.
Confusion buffeted her as she followed him inside. From a cursory glance into the room, it was clear that while she and Darius had been in the nursery, Mrs. Tucker had sent the staff to ready the room. He had no reason to check their work, unless he was stalling. Or unless the staff was so new to him that he didn’t trust them?
That had to be it.
When he stepped inside the room she’d be sleeping in, a fresh ripple of unease passed through Whitney. It felt odd, uncomfortable to have a man who’d clearly had a sexual reaction to her standing beside the bed she would sleep in. Her chest tightened. Stupid nervousness rose up in her again, reminding her that it had been a long time, maybe too long, since she’d been alone with a man.
But his gaze was casual, touching the queen-sized bed, the bare dresser, the pale sage club chairs arranged by the window for reading.
After he’d seen everything in the bedroom, his peek into the master bath caused his expression to turn puzzled, and she had no idea why. The vanity was white oak with a glass countertop. The floors were Calcutta marble slab. A separate custom-glass tile shower was utilitarian, but the oversize, extra-deep soaking tub almost caused her to sigh with joy. She could have a bath. A nice long bath to ease away the tension and grief of this long, long day. That tub would be her haven tonight.
He glanced at her then quickly away. His expression was so odd that she peeked into the bathroom again. Her gaze lit on the huge tub and suddenly her face flamed with color.
Of course, a woman saw the tub as a haven. A man saw it as a playground.
Their eyes met and the warm syrupy feeling she’d had when she’d first seen him
