Valentine's Day. Nicola Marsh

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Mara, I don’t know. After what happened last night…”

      “Listen, you owe it to him. The poor guy spent hours waiting for you at the club.”

      “No he didn’t. Not from what he told me. And anyway, he should have left after half an hour or so. I would have.”

      “In fact, you did.” Mara gave her an exasperated sigh. “He was so excited about meeting you, of course. And now he’s got to be wondering what all that meant. You’ve got to be nice to him and really give him a chance.”

      Cari had to hold back a smile. Mara was pushing a little too hard for this. That meant she’d begun to doubt it was going to work out. Oh, well. Cari would give it a shot. That was all she could do.

      A new customer had come in and was about to seat himself at the counter. When she turned and saw it was Max, she gasped and almost dropped the coffee urn she was carrying. He gave her a halfhearted grin and shrugged. She put down the coffee and caught her breath. She’d never imagined he might show up here.

      He was wearing slacks that fit his muscular body like a glove, bulging in all the right places, and a silky white shirt open low at the neck. He hadn’t shaved and his face looked stunningly sexy with a day’s worth of dark beard.

      “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a voice just above a whisper. She didn’t bother to ask how he’d found out which of the city’s hundreds of coffee shops she worked in. She knew his answer to that one. His people knew how to find these things out. Something told her he would always find her if he wanted to, and she wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat.

      Max looked at her in wonder. She had her thick blond hair tied back, but little curls were breaking free all around her face. She wore a stiff, starched uniform, baby-blue with white lacy trim and a white lacy apron, sensible white shoes and a perky little hat. She looked for all the world like an exceptionally adorable matron in a fantasy children’s ward. He half expected to see friendly cartoon characters bouncing along behind her.

      “I came because I need to talk to you,” he said. “You’re the only person I know who knows anything about babies.”

      “What’s wrong?” she asked quickly, a tiny flare of alarm shivering through her. “Has something happened?”

      “No, nothing. Jamie’s fine. Just fine.” Max hesitated. He knew he sounded defensive and that made him frown more fiercely.

      “Then what’s wrong?” She shook her head in bewilderment.

      “Nothing. Well, something.”

      He shook his own head, trying to figure out how to express the discomfort he felt with the childcare he’d arranged without sounding like a candidate for a mental clinic. Maybe what he’d seen was normal. Maybe he was being a crank. But maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Turner was a lousy nanny. He just didn’t know the answer.

      He sank down into the stool at the counter and turned up the cup. She moved automatically, filling it with coffee.

      “Explain,” she demanded impatiently. “What are the symptoms?”

      His beautiful hands with their long, tapered fingers curled around the cup. She watched him do it, fascinated. Everything about him seemed better, even the way he held a cup. But she didn’t have time for any swooning this afternoon. This was all about the baby.

      “Well?” she said.

      “It’s just…oh, hell.” He looked up, appealing to her supposed expertise. “He’s crying a lot.”

      Cari froze and looked at him quickly. Brian had hated it when their baby had cried. In fact, it seemed to drive him a bit crazy when it happened. Her heart beat a little faster, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Max wasn’t Brian. He hadn’t said he couldn’t stand it, just that it worried him.

      Okay, start over again.

      She nodded a little stiffly. A baby crying wasn’t really unusual. But if it was happening to the point where Max was worried, she was going to delve into it a bit.

      “No fever?”

      “No, I don’t think so.”

      “Gas?”

      He made a face. “I don’t know.”

      “Does the nanny hold him against her shoulder and pat or rub his back?”

      He thought for a minute, then nodded. “I’ve seen her do that a time or two. But not for long.” He frowned. “I don’t trust the nanny. She’s obsessed with making sure she doesn’t spoil him. It’s like she thinks we’re raising a Spartan kid or something. She doesn’t want to make him too comfortable, as if he’ll get too soft if he’s happy.” He grimaced. “So she lets him cry.”

      Cari was sure he was exaggerating, so she didn’t take him too seriously. She closed her eyes, thinking, then opened them again and shook her head.

      “You know what it probably is? He misses his mom.”

      Max searched her eyes. To his relief, Cari was taking his worries seriously. She was frowning, thinking over her instant diagnosis. She looked down at him.

      “Did you get in a good supply of formula?”

      “Of course.”

      She nodded again, then her eyes widened. “Oh, maybe he was being breast fed. The formula might not agree with him. Maybe that’s why he’s crying.”

      He groaned, looking miserable. “But Cari, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

      “Of course not. He’ll just have to get used to the formula.”

      “How long will that take?”

      She had a hard time holding back a smile. His face was a picture of tragic helplessness. He was a man of action. He wanted to do something to make everything better. But he was being told there was nothing he could do, and that was maddening to him.

      “Of course, the best thing would be if the baby’s mother came back. You haven’t found her yet?” she asked, knowing it wouldn’t be a welcome question at all.

      He gave her a baleful look. “Why would I want to do that?”

      She stared at him, hoping he was just being flip. “You know darn well you have to do that.”

      His sigh was impatient. “Yes, I know. I’ve got people looking into it. We’ll find her.”

      She frowned. His “people” had been pretty good at finding out where she lived and worked, but she was pretty easy. A woman who went off without telling anyone where she was going was probably going to be a tougher case.

      “I hope you really mean that. It’s important. What if she comes back and her baby’s not in the apartment? Can you imagine how frightened she’ll be?”

      He looked at her as though she’d lost her bearings. “Cari, this is a mother who walked out and never looked back.

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