# She's My Baby

Adrianne Byrd

No husband, no boyfriend, no pets and definitely no children…These were the "rules" that took magazine CEO Leila Owens to the top. Always in charge, in control, she was never rattled. Until she finds a baby in her kitchen on Christmas–and a sexy neighbor wearing next to nothing knocking at her front door…Garrick Grayson didn't know whom to comfort first, the howling infant or the career diva without a clue. But with a little help, Leila's soon juggling bottles, naps and meetings, while Garrick is falling for adorable Emma–and gorgeous, feisty, maternally challenged Leila. Garrick had sworn off women married to their jobs; Leila had sworn off everything else. So why, when they were together, did things feel so…right?

## The corners of Garrick’s lips twitched into a smile. He reached for the baby.

This wasn’t exactly the kind of emergency he had in mind when he bolted over here, but it was a job that still needed to be done.

Garrick nestled the little girl in the crook of his arm. As he swayed back and forth, the baby quieted down. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed.

“How did you do that?” his neighbor asked wide-eyed.

“I’ve been told I’m a natural with babies and animals,” he boasted proudly.

“You’re a godsend.”

The woman raked her fingers through her hair—something she should stop doing, he noted.

“Yeah, well, I guess if you just get us a new diaper, I can help you change her and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He didn’t mean to mention her hair, but it had a way of drawing the eye.

She blinked. “A diaper?”

## ADRIANNE BYRD

has always preferred to live within the realms of her imagination where all the men are gorgeous and the women are up to all the challenge of whatever trouble they manage to get into. Her first Kimani Press release, She’s My Baby, was inspired by a true-life incident. Ms. Byrd’s youngest sister politely informed her that she was having a baby—ten days before her due date! Her little sis and baby moved in. They’ve been living with Ms. Byrd happily, temporarily, ever after.

She’s My Baby

Adrianne Byrd


www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my niece Courtney Breanna White I hope I don’t screw this up

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Leila and Garrick’s story. I have to admit that it was one of my easier subject matters to write about since I positively break out into a cold sweat every time my sister even hints for me to babysit my one-year-old niece. Some women, like me, really have to work to dust off unused maternal instincts. Like Leila, I discovered that even after sleepless nights, countless diaper changes and constant worrying, there is a unique joy in being around a baby. Nothing gives you the same kind of pleasure as when a child smiles at you. So much so that you find yourself doing the most ridiculous things—like “goo-gooing” while you’re holding up the line at the grocery store—just to win another toothless grin.

So, now I have a baby at the house…all I have to do is keep peeking out the window to find my Garrick Grayson.

It could happen…

## Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

## Chapter 1

Leila Owens, founder and editor director of Atlanta Spice magazine, gaped at the world’s greatest assistant—her assistant—and her good friend and prayed that her ears were clogged with wax. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes. Isn’t it great? The news is kind of an early Christmas gift to my family.” Ciara Winston beamed a radiant smile as she closed Leila’s office door and journeyed into the room.

“Nooo,” Leila half moaned, half groaned, and then dropped her head into the palms of her hands. “Why on earth would you go off and do something so…silly…and suicidal?”

“Silly and suicidal?”

“Babies are career killers in this industry,” Leila snapped, jerking her desk drawer open to grab the industrial-size bottle of Rolaids. “They need constant attention, they are always sick, and they are always crying for something.”

Ciara crossed her arms. “Babies aren’t the only ones who do that.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Leila added as she popped a few pills into her mouth.

Her assistant laughed, but when Leila’s sharp gaze stabbed her, Ciara sobered. “Leila, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Doesn’t it? What do you think is going to happen to me while you’re off having morning sickness, water-retention issues, and raging mood swings? I have a company to run and I can’t do that without my right-hand woman at my side. I need you.” Leila downed two more tablets for good measure.

“I’m not dying. I’m just having a baby.” Before Leila could respond, Ciara held up a silencing finger. “Please, let me finish before you say something that will cause me to turn in my resignation.” She lowered her hand.

Leila clamped her mouth close.

“Elmo and I—”

“Elmo. What kind of name…”

Ciara jutted her finger back into the air and Leila grudgingly fell silent again. “Look, don’t get all neurotic on me. I like you. I’m also insane enough to say that I like working for you. But I am ready for the next chapter in my life—motherhood. Now, the polite thing for you to do is to congratulate me.”

Leila ground her teeth and then lowered into her chair.

“I can be just as stubborn as you and I can stand here all day.”

It was true, Leila knew. Her assistant’s bullheadedness was one of the reasons that made Ciara a perfect match for Leila. Yet, for every common denominator between them, there were five differences. This whole family-and-marriage thing was just another example.

Ciara cleared her throat and waited.

“All right, all right. Congratulations. I hope you and Tickle Me Elmo have a slew of rug rats, if it makes you happy.”

“Thank you.” Ciara smiled sweetly. “I knew you had it in you. One day I hope you will experience the joy of marriage and children.”

“Spare me.” Leila leaned back in her chair. “And don’t think I’m going to suffer through ‘children are great’ sermons from you on a daily basis. Not all single women are miserable. Atlanta Spice is my marriage and I’m completely happy with it.”

“If you say so.” Ciara pivoted and headed back out. “By the way,” she said, opening the door. “Your sister called this morning. Twice.”

Leila reached back into her drawer-slash-personal-pharmacy for some antacids. “Which sister?”

“Roslyn. Said it was important.”

“Everything is important to her. Thanks…and can you see about getting me some aspirin? I’m running low.”

“You got it,” Ciara laughed and finally made her exit.

Leila, meanwhile, placed mental bets with herself on when Ciara would quit. She could hear it now: Elmo and I agreed that I should become a full-time mom. That’s what all twenty-something women wanted to do nowadays.

Disgusted, she reached for the phone and punched in Roslyn’s number. She sidelined her magic pink pills until she heard what her sister had to say. On rare occasions important issues weren’t so bad.

“You have to be the hardest person in the world to get on the phone,” Roslyn launched into saying.

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“Sorry. Hello. Have you heard from Samantha?”

“No.” Leila snatched up the Pepto. “Should I have?”

“She’s missing.”

In any other family those words might sound off an alarm; but not with the Owenses, and not when the missing person in question was Samantha. “Sam is not missing. Sam just failed to tell anyone where she’s going—as usual. No big deal. She’ll turn up.” And hopefully not at my place.

“I’m not too sure. I’ve been calling her new apartment out in Las Vegas for two weeks. Finally, I reached one of her neighbors, Ms. Friedman, and just found out some disturbing news—”

“Ms. Owens, we have a problem.” Deonté Stylianos, her photo director, jetted into the room, red-faced and wild-eyed.

Leila lowered the phone and placed a hand over the mouthpiece. “What is it?”

“Erika hasn’t turned in the photos of the Laura Biagiotti collection. Those were set to go to the printers by five.”

Leila glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet. “It’s four. Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Deonté sighed. “I covered for Erika when she missed the first deadline because she swore to have the pictures to me in time for the printers.”

“Damn it.” Leila pressed the phone back to her ear. “Roslyn, I have to go. I have a real emergency to deal with right now.”

“But, Sam had a—”

“I’ll call you back. I promise.” Not waiting for a response, Leila hung up.

Roslyn exhaled a long frustrated breath and returned the phone back to its cradle.

“What did she say?” Patrick asked.

Roslyn frowned as she glanced over at her husband. “I didn’t get a chance to tell her. She had to go.”

Patrick flashed his deep-pitted dimples as he moved next to her and draped a strong arm around her waist. “Honey, maybe you’re making a big deal out of nothing? This isn’t the first time Sam has pulled a stunt like this.”

“I know, but this time it’s different. There’s another life involved.”

“We don’t know that for sure. Ms. Friedman could’ve been mistaken. Sam could have been babysitting a friend’s kid for all we know.”

He had a point; but as Roslyn thought about her sister’s elderly neighbor, doubt crept over her. “I don’t think we should go on our trip until we get to the bottom of this.”

“You’re joking.” Patrick’s body deflated as his arm fell from her waist. “We’ve been saving for two years to go on this trip. Barbados in December—you said it would be a dream come true.”

“I know, I know, but this thing with Samantha.” She shook her head. “Something’s not right. I can feel it.”

“Nothing is ever right with Sam. She pulls these little stunts for attention. You know that.”

She did.

As if sensing he was making some headway, he drew her close again. “The tickets are nonrefundable and the kids are excited. Besides, if there is a real emergency, Leila is more than capable of handling it.”

That was true as well. Leila’s tough-love tactics always worked better than Roslyn’s please let me try to fix everything for you strategy.

“You’re right.” Roslyn smiled, laying her head against her husband’s broad chest. “If anything is wrong, Leila will handle it.”

## Chapter 2

“Lord, save me from gold diggers and career-driven women,” Garrick Grayson prayed into his glass of eggnog before he downed it in one long gulp. At the very least he’d hoped to drown out the overly cheerful song “Jingle Bell Rock” that blasted from every speaker in his brother’s house.

“Hey, bro. You better ease up on that. I have no intentions of carrying you out of here with my bad back.”

Garrick flashed Orlando a wounded look. “It’s been a bad day. Indulge me.” He glanced around his brother’s crowded Christmas party.

Orlando shook his head. “This is about Miranda, isn’t it?”

“I stopped drinking over Miranda two years ago. This is about me perfecting the fine art of screwing up my life. I’m forty-five years old and I haven’t accomplished anything meaningful.”

“Ooh. It’s going to be one of those evenings?”

“C’mon. You know it’s true.”

Orlando laughed. “I don’t know any such thing. I know you’re a man with the Midas touch when it comes to wheeling and dealing, which is why Dad left the family business in your capable hands. God bless him.”

Garrick studied his brother. “You don’t feel slighted?”

“Heavens no.” Orlando laughed with genuine amusement. “I’m no architect and I don’t enjoy pushing paper around. The football field is where I belong.”

Garrick smiled at the truth of Orlando’s words. His brother had never made it past college ball, but he was just as happy coaching his beloved junior-high-school team.

Tamara, Orlando’s beautiful full-figured wife, looped an arm around her husband, and then leaned lovingly into him. “You’re supposed to be mingling.”

“I am.” Orlando delivered a quick peck against her voluptuous lips. “I’m making sure this bum you invited doesn’t guzzle all the eggnog.”

Tamara turned her glowing smile toward Garrick. “He’s harmless…and so is the eggnog. No alcohol.”

“I knew it tasted funny,” Garrick joked.

Sliding gingerly from one brother to the other, Tamara planted a kiss against Garrick’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Garrick.”

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”

“How’s the new house?” Tamara asked.

“I’m enjoying it so far. Of course, I’ve only been there a week. But it seems like a nice quiet neighborhood.”

“Why didn’t you just build another house? You do such great work.”

“It’s a transitional house and it’s just me.” He shrugged.

“Then maybe I should come up and see you sometime,” she said in her best Mae West imitation.

They exchanged a few minutes of harmless flirtation—just long enough to playfully stir Orlando’s jealousy.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Orlando pulled his wife back to his side. “Me Tarzan, she’s Jane.”

“Oh, are we playing that one tonight?” Tamara murmured against her husband’s ear and slid her arm around his waist.

“I think I can dig up my leopard-print loincloth.”

“Hello. I’m still standing here,” Garrick reminded them.

The mushy husband-and-wife team chuckled. However, the duty of playing hostess called and, with a great show of reluctance, Tamara glided out of Orlando’s arm.

“I’ll leave you two alone, but, honey, don’t forget to mingle.”

“You got it.”

Garrick ladled another cup of eggnog as he watched his sister-in-law vanish into the crowd. “I envy you,” he blurted.

Orlando’s smile turned sly. “I know.”

Garrick chuckled, but his mood darkened in the next instant when Bing Crosby vowed solemnly that he would be home for Christmas. “Miranda is getting married again.”

“Tamara told me. Some doctor or another, right?”

“Yeah.”

Orlando fell silent for a moment, glanced around to make sure no one was listening, and then asked, “Are you still in love with her?”

“I’ll always love her,” Garrick admitted in a voice laden with emotion. “But, no. I’m not in love with her.”

“Tamara said she’s pregnant.”

Garrick lowered his head as he clenched his drink. The news hurt just as much the second time around. “Yeah,” he croaked.

During his seven-year marriage to Miranda, Garrick had waited, prayed, and then begged to start a family with his ambitious ladder-climbing wife. However, the answers were always: after this next deal, after this next trip, and after this next promotion—they were all deviations of the word no.

“It just means that it was never meant to be,” Orlando said, and then winced. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean—”

“It’s okay. I know what you meant.” Garrick sighed and backed away. “Forgive me, but the last thing I want engraved on my tombstone is how I was a whiz at business. I want the same thing Dad has and you’ll have. Here lies a great husband and a wonderful father. I want a real legacy.”

“You’ll get those things, bro.” Orlando met his brother’s direct gaze. “I know you will…because Tamara and I have already lined up the perfect woman for you.”

Garrick groaned. “Tamara set me up with Miranda, remember?”

“Trial and error.” Orlando shrugged. “On all our parts. So what do you say?”

“Is she here tonight?” he asked, unable to keep the dread out of his voice.

“Nah. You know I wouldn’t land a sneak attack on you like that.”

Garrick’s eyes narrowed.

“All right. She was here earlier, checked you out, and gave us the okay to pass you her number.”

“I was under surveillance and you didn’t tell me?”

“Tamara told me not to. So what do you say?”

“I say you’ve been married too long and have forgotten the brothers’ allegiance.”

“Yes or no?”

Garrick weighed his options, thought about his love life that was on serious life support, and then caved. “All right…on one condition.”

“I know. I know. No gold diggers and no career women.”

Garrick smiled. “You got it.”

On Christmas morning, Leila stretched languorously in her eastern, king-size Italian bed and gave serious thought to staying put for the entire day. Why not? With Roslyn and her family in Barbados and Sam living it up in sin city, she was actually going to be alone for the holidays.

“Peace and quiet,” she moaned, curling back up against a pillow.

The phone rang.

Leila laughed as she crept an arm out toward the nightstand. “Hello?”

When no one answered, she frowned and made a concerted effort to suppress her irritation. It was Christmas, after all. Dropping the receiver back onto its cradle, she once again prepared for another flight to dreamland.

The phone rang again.

Spewing a string of curse words, Leila snatched off her night mask and grabbed the phone.

“Hello.”

The caller didn’t respond, but Leila could make out someone breathing—no, crying—on the other end.

“Who is this?” When the caller refused to speak, Leila’s sixth sense tingled to life. “Samantha?”

The caller hung up.

Leila held the phone. What kind of game was Sam playing now?

Huffing out a tired breath, Leila finally hung up the phone and climbed out of bed with all her dreams of spending the day in bed gone. Her mind was still wrapped on the strange call as she donned her robe and slipped into her favorite pair of slippers.

If she had any hopes of figuring out the new game her baby sister was playing, she would need her morning coffee—preferably a full pot.

Midway down the stairs, the sound of music caught her ear. She stopped.

Had she left the stereo on? Wait, she hadn’t listened to it last night. Her heart skipped a beat until she thought of the unlikelihood of a killer sneaking into her place only to play… “Rock-a-bye Baby.”

“Hello?” She crept down to the landing, trying to convince herself she was naming the wrong tune. As she followed the music, her confusion grew. It was coming from the kitchen.

Her usually dependable creative imagination had drawn a blank on what awaited her; but nevertheless, she put on a brave front and continued placing one foot in front of the other.

The moment she entered the kitchen, her gaze zeroed onto a frilly pink bassinette in the center of the kitchen table.

Leila blinked. When the image remained, she blinked again. It was still there and the looped music reverberated off the walls.

She rubbed her chest, certain that her heart was going to break through. “It isn’t. It can’t be.”

Her denial grew with each step while a knot tightened in the pit of her stomach. “It isn’t. It can’t be,” she repeated until she finally stopped to hover over the bassinette.

For half a heartbeat, Leila relaxed. The small, perfectly formed brown baby with rosy cheeks had to be a doll, which meant someone was playing a cruel joke. However, when the angelic child cooed softly, Leila jumped back in terror.

Who would—? When did she—? Where—?

“No. No.” She pivoted so fast she nearly tripped out of her pink slippers. Escaping the kitchen, she could only think to shout one name at the top of her lungs. “Sam!”

Leila bolted through the dining room and into the living room.

Both were empty.

“Sam!”

Swiveling, Leila tripped; but she saved herself from making a splat on the floor by dropping to her knees. Yet, adrenaline propelled her back to her feet and she was once again flying up and down the house.

Guest rooms—empty.

Bathrooms—empty.

Closets—empty.

“Sam…please. Don’t do this to me,” she begged.

Fear and anxiety knit a fine sheen of sweat across Leila’s brow, but she kept going. She reached an all-time low when she crawled on all fours to check beneath her own bed.

Samantha wasn’t there either.

Leila raked her fingers through her hair until her day-old mousse achieved the Bride of Frankenstein look and she nearly succumbed to the temptation to curl up into a ball. Then a thought occurred to her. She hadn’t checked outside. What if Sam was still out there, trying to unload her car or something?

Granted, it was far-fetched; but hope gave credence to the wild notion. Leila sprinted down the stairs, fluffy pink slippers and all; but before she reached the front door, a thin, high-pitched wail filled the house.

Leila skidded to a stop. The baby was crying. “What should I do?”

You should go check on her.

“But I don’t know how to take care of a baby.”

How hard could it be?

Leila mulled over the internal question. She was a smart woman in charge of a successful publishing company. Surely she could handle a baby.

The wail climbed a few octaves and Leila was forced to head into the kitchen. “Okay, okay. I’m here,” she soothed, rushing to the bassinette.

The baby stopped screaming…just long enough to draw a deep breath and then let it rip again.

With rattled eardrums, Leila panicked. She grabbed the bassinette by the handle and raced out of the house. So much for her being able to handle a baby.

“Sam!”

Garrick bolted upright, but was confused by what had awakened him. Yet, in the next second, a woman’s shrill voice penetrated his double-paned windows and he was out of the bed like a shot.

“Sam!”

Widening a slit in the venetian blinds, Garrick peered out to the house across the street. This was supposed to be a quiet neighborhood.

“Sam!”

Who’s Sam? His eyes lowered to the large pink basket she was carrying. A baby. Something was wrong with her baby?

Garrick turned and raced from the window. His heart lodged in his throat at all the wild possibilities. Was the baby sick, hurt, or worse?

“Sam!”

There was no snow this Christmas, but the cold December wind was an instant wake-up call against his bare chest. Yet, there was no way he was going to turn around now that he could also hear a baby screaming.

“Ma’am, ma’am. What’s wrong?”

“What?” The lady stepped back. “Who are you?” Her eyes raked him.

It hit him then that he was standing in his neighbor’s driveway in just his pajama pants. “I—I’m Garrick Grayson. Your new neighbor across the street.”

She took another step back but confusion still clouded her face. Actually, she looked every bit the part of a crazy woman with her hair standing straight on her head. Maybe this was trouble he didn’t need.

“Ma’am, you were screaming at the top of your voice. Is something wrong?”

She blinked out of her trance and glanced around the neighborhood.

Garrick looked as well and saw a few people milling out of their houses.

“Just great,” the woman mumbled under her breath. “Sam has turned me into a screaming lunatic.” She turned, clutched the bassinette tighter, and headed toward her front door.

Still concerned about the crying baby, he followed. “Who’s Sam?” he asked.

“My soon-to-be-deceased sister.” She entered the house. “Okay, little baby,” she cooed awkwardly. “You can stop crying now. Everything is going to be all right…I hope.”

Garrick frowned. “Ma’am. Is everything all right? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“Call someone. That’s a good idea. I can call someone to come and help me with…uh—this baby.” She stopped in the foyer and then squeezed the large bassinette onto a slim table. “But who? Everyone is gone for the holidays.”

The baby wailed at full volume.

“Okay. Okay. I can do this,” she affirmed and reached for the baby.

Garrick still didn’t know what to make of any of this.

The baby, dressed in all pink, flailed tiny hands and feet as the screaming continued.

Dumbfounded, Garrick eyed the bizarre woman as she held the child away from her body as if the child were a stick of dynamite. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

“Uh, yeah—but never when one was crying like this. I think something is wrong with it.”

It? “I take it this is not your child?”

“Good heavens, no.” Her face twisted. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she assured the child.

Garrick wasn’t too sure about that and apparently neither was the baby—if the screaming was any indication.

“Why won’t it stop crying?” the lady asked in obvious distress.

It again. “First, I’m guessing by all the pink that it’s a girl,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Second, I’m thinking you would want to hold her a little closer to your body if you’re trying to comfort her.”

The lady looked as if he’d told her to jump off a cliff; but in the next second, she was bobbing her head in agreement. “Okay, okay. I can do that.”

She nearly did, too—until an unmistakable sound alerted them that the baby had just unloaded half her body weight into her diaper.

“Oh-my-God,” the woman croaked, stretching her arms farther out from her body. “Did you hear that?”

The corners of Garrick’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah, I heard.” He reached for the baby. This wasn’t exactly the kind of emergency he’d had in mind when he’d bolted over here, but it was a job that still needed to be done.

Garrick nestled the little girl in the crook of his arm. As he swayed back and forth, the baby quieted down. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed, smiling down at the chubby-cheeked baby. She was actually adorable with her nest of curly hair and sweet brown eyes. Still, he couldn’t imagine who was insane enough to leave their baby with this woman.

“How did you do that?” his neighbor asked, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“I’ve been told I’m a natural with babies and animals,” he boasted proudly.

“You’re a godsend.”

The woman raked her fingers through her hair—something she should stop doing, he noted.

“Yeah, well, I guess if you just get us a new diaper, I can help you change her and get out of your hair.” He didn’t mean to mention her hair, but it had a way of drawing the eye.

She blinked. “A diaper?”

“You do have diapers, right?”

“Uh.” She turned back toward the bassinette and searched inside it, but the only thing she pulled out was a thin envelope.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s from Sam,” she said with a note of dread, and then lifted her large, sad brown eyes up at him. “It could only mean bad news.”

## Chapter 3

On the porch of her Sea Symphony Villa, Roslyn stared out at Barbados’s powdery white sand, turquoise sea, cerulean sky and wanted to pinch herself. Everything was postcard perfect—and yet she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back home.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Patrick eased his arms around her waist and nibbled on her exposed shoulder.

Though his lips were pleasure, they failed to draw Roslyn from her troubled thoughts. “I was thinking about Samantha,” she answered honestly.

Her husband groaned and laid his head against her shoulder. “This is supposed to be our vacation.”

“It is.” Roslyn turned in his arms and fluttered a smile at him. “I was just hoping everything is okay, you know? This time of year is always hard for her.”

Patrick nodded, but his gaze inspected her. “This time of year is also hard on you…and Leila.”

Instant tears welled in Roslyn’s eyes and she lowered her gaze to stare at the span of his broad chest.

Gently, he lifted her head again so their eyes met. “All I’m saying is…you can’t fix your sister. Everyone has demons to fight. Samantha is going to have to fight her own.”

“It’s not that easy.” Roslyn pushed out of his arms and shook her head. “Samantha isn’t strong. She’s not like Leila—who can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. And she’s not like me.” She took Patrick’s hand. “I have an incredible man who I can lean on and who can pick up the pieces when I fall apart.”

Patrick bowed his head.

“I know you’ve never cared for my baby sister.”

His head jerked up again. “That’s not true.” He hedged as he selected his next words. “I just don’t like how she emotionally blackmails you…or anyone who tries to get too close.”

“And what if Ms. Friedman is right? What if she has had a baby? Do you think that she’s emotionally stable to raise a child?”

“We don’t know—”

“Hypothetically?”

Patrick drew a deep breath and gave the questions careful consideration. “I honestly don’t know.”

Roslyn nodded and returned to his arms. “Neither do I.”

“Your sister abandoned her baby?” Garrick asked, mentally snapping pieces of the puzzle together.

“Looks that way.” Leila ripped open the thin envelope and unfolded the enclosed letter. “Dear Leila, I’m sorry.” She stopped and closed her eyes to pray for strength.

“Is that all it says?” Garrick asked, bouncing and patting the baby’s back.

Slowly, the child’s wails teetered off to soft coos.

Amazed, Leila glanced up. “How are you doing that?”

“It’s like I said—” he cocked his head with a disarming smile “—I’m a natural.”

At that moment, the little girl released a high-pitched squeal to contradict his claim.

A smug smile curved Leila’s lips.

“Any chance I can get that diaper?” he asked.

“Oh.” Leila’s brain kicked into gear. “I think I saw a bag in the kitchen. Hopefully there’s one in there.” She rushed to the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted an unmistakable pink diaper bag on the table. “Bingo! I found it.”

She unzipped the bag and found a stockpile of tiny diapers, bottled milk, plastic toys and singing stuffed frogs.

Garrick strolled into the kitchen while making funny noises to Leila’s new niece. “She’s adorable,” he said, taking one of the diapers. “What’s her name?”

“No clue.”

“You never even met her before?”

“What can I say? Not every family is like the Huxtables,” Leila huffed, and then remembered the letter she still clasped in her hand.

Her new neighbor quickly changed the subject. “Where should I change her?”

Leila lowered the letter again and glanced around. “Uh, I guess we can do it in the living room?”

“Okay.” He carved out a smile. “Lead the way.”

Since her house was not exactly equipped with a baby-changing station, Leila settled on him lying the baby down on the sofa. Even then, she cringed at the potential mess he could make on the furniture’s expensive fabric.

“Any wipes or baby powder?”

Leila blinked as if he spoke a foreign language.

“Could you check the bag?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Leila hid her embarrassment by pivoting and racing back to the kitchen. He had to think she was a complete idiot. In ten minutes, he’d learned that she didn’t know how to hold a baby, calm a baby, or even change a baby. Yet, here she was—with a baby.

“I’ll never forgive her for this,” Leila mumbled under her breath as she grabbed the diaper bag. When she returned to the living room, once again, she watched him coo and blubber a bunch of gibberish. All of which her niece found entertaining.

“Here you go.” She handed over the bag.

“Thanks.” He quickly pulled out the items he needed. “You better pay close attention, seeing you’re going to have to do this about seven to ten times a day.”

Leila’s eyebrows leaped up. “That much?”

“Give or take.” He flashed her a dimpled smile.

Her stomach clenched and she tightened the belt on her robe before, once again, remembering the letter. She unfolded it and read. “Dear Leila. I’m sorry. I know my leaving your new six-month-old niece will be a mild inconvenience…” Leila glanced up. “A mild inconvenience?”

Garrick looked at her but said nothing.

Leila rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to the letter. “Like me, motherhood was never a part of your plans. However, unlike me, your decision wasn’t based on the fact that you would make a lousy mother, but simply because you’re married to your career. I, on the other hand, am a screwup. I always have been.”

Leila’s voice softened. “Since little Emma came into my life, I’m seized by the fear that I’m going to screw her up as well. That’s the last thing I want to do. Emma deserves all the things I can’t give her, but I know that you can. Please don’t hate me for doing this. But I believe I’m doing what’s best for my daughter. Take care of her and love her as your own. Both of you will always be in my thoughts and in my heart. Love, Sam.”

Leila crumpled the letter in her hand. “Give me a break.”

Garrick cast another sidelong glance in her direction.

“Trust me,” she said, folding her arms. “My sister is a piece of work. Every time things get tough, she gets going.”

“But there’s a little girl caught in the middle,” Garrick said.

“Yeah.” Leila fell silent as she stared down at Emma. She could see hints of Sam in the shape of the child’s face and nose.

“Well,” Garrick said, folding up the used diaper. “I’m all done here. You have someplace I can put this?”

Panic seized her. “You’re leaving?”

“Well. There’s no real reason for me to stick around.”

Emma kicked and giggled to herself.

“Besides,” Garrick chuckled and smiled, “I don’t think this little lady will be giving you any more trouble.” He tickled the child’s sides and was rewarded with another burst of giggles. “She’s adorable.”

“But—but. I didn’t see how you did the diaper thingy,” Leila said.

“Trust me.” He laughed as he stood. “It’s pretty self-explanatory.” He tried to hand the used diaper over.

Leila turned up her nose and waved the odorous thing away. “Hold on.” She turned and bolted back toward the kitchen. When she returned, she carried her large stainless-steel garbage can with her. “Drop it in here.”

Garrick’s brows dipped in confusion, but he did as she asked. “Um, is there anyone you can call to help you with her?” He reached down and picked up the rolling child before she fell off the sofa.

Leila shook her head and set the garbage can down.

“Another family member…or friend?”

She snapped her fingers and raced over to the cordless phone on the end table. “Ciara!”

Garrick brightened. “There you go. Problem solved.”

“You’re so right. Ciara totally knows about this whole baby thing. I can pawn Ms. Emma off on her for a few hours while I hunt down my mentally handicapped sister.” She punched in the number.

He frowned. “Do you think that’s a wise idea?”

She listened as the phone rang. “What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently your sister is, uh, a little unstable at the moment. Maybe it’s not the right time to force her to take care of Emma. You know, I read an article the other day on postpartum depression—”

“What are you, a shrink?”

“No—”

“Tom Cruise?”

He chuckled. “Definitely not.”

Suddenly, Ciara’s voice filtered onto the line. “Hello.”

“Ciara! Thank God you’re home.”

“You’ve reached the Winstons’ residence. Sorry, we’re not able to come to the phone right now.”

“Damn it!” She slammed the phone down onto its cradle.

“Uh, there’s a baby in the room.” Garrick’s expression twisted as he attempted to cover Emma’s ears.

Leila waved him off. “She doesn’t know what I’m saying.”

Garrick drew a deep, patient breath. “Children are like sponges. They absorb everything.”

“Uh-huh.” Leila folded her arms and scrutinized him carefully. “I take it you have children?”

He shifted Emma to his other arm. “Not exactly.”

Her eyebrows dipped to the center of her forehead. “It’s a yes or no question.”

“Then the answer is no.” He walked over to her. “But I’m a highly qualified uncle—who incidentally understands the Gerber baby meal plan, knows the difference between a hungry wail and a teething wail, and I am pretty skilled in the diaper-changing arena.” He tried to hand over Emma.

“Wait a minute…I don’t—”

“Come on. You can do it.” He slid Emma into Leila’s arms and proceeded to instruct her on the proper way to hold the child. “There. You already have the hang of it.” He turned and exited out of the living room.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Home.” He strode across the foyer.

“But you can’t go,” she reasoned, giving chase.

He laughed, but refused to stop. “Why can’t I?”

“Because I need you.” She reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “I don’t know anything about babies. What if—What if I—?”

“What if you what?” Garrick turned and glanced back at her.

Leila’s mind went blank. “I don’t know. What if I break her…or scar her for life or something? That happens a lot in my family.”

When he chuckled, she snatched back her hand and struggled to extinguish a spark of anger.

He sensed he’d offended her and turned toward her with another breathtaking smile. “You’re going to be fine,” he reassured. “Women have been taking care of babies since Adam and Eve. That’s what they were put on this earth for. It’s in your nature.”

“What?”

“It’s in your nature,” he repeated.

Leila stared at him. “What kind of sexist pig are you?”

Garrick blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It’s in our nature?” She stepped back. “Is that the best you can do? I’m standing here telling you that I could potentially emotionally scar a little girl and your response is a flippant ‘It’s in my nature’?”

“Well—”

“You know. Never mind.” She marched over to the door and held it open. “Thanks for your so-called help.”

He stared at her; but when she lifted her head and refused to meet his gaze again, he shrugged and strolled toward the door. When he reached it, he stopped and contemplated whether he needed to apologize; but there was something about the firm line of her jaw and the height of her nose that made him reconsider.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, and walked out.

The door slammed as soon as he crossed the threshold. Garrick looked back and shook his head. “At least Scrooge was sane.”

## Chapter 4

Samantha Owens sobbed behind the wheel of her fifteen-year-old beat-up sedan. Her guilt weighed down her shoulders while the hole in her heart expanded. It had been nearly thirty minutes since she’d left Emma at her sister’s house—the longest thirty minutes of her life.

“You did the right thing,” the devil on her shoulder repeated—or was it the angel? She was so mixed up, she couldn’t tell them apart anymore. Frustrated, she dropped her head against the center of the steering wheel, and then jumped when the horn blared.

She sat up and glanced around Leila’s quiet neighborhood. Leila’s front door jerked open and for a moment, Samantha feared the worst. Instead, a handsome stranger emerged and then jumped when the front door slammed behind him.

A classic Leila move.

However, the neighbor seemed more amused than angry as he strolled with a confident swagger across the street. He was quite a specimen and she wondered whether he and her sister were more than just neighbors.

Sam dispelled the notion and refocused her attention on Leila’s McMansion. “I did the right thing,” she concluded, starting the car. “Bye, Emma. Mommy loves you.”

Garrick returned home and made a beeline to the kitchen for a pot of coffee; but after a morning with the unforgettable Leila Owens, maybe he needed something with a little more kick.

“Was a simple ‘thank you’ too much to ask for?” He shook his head and reached for his favorite can of Santo Domingo coffee. “Come to think of it, she probably never said the words before.

“She’ll need me again,” he assured himself. “Undoubtedly needing help warming a baby’s bottle. Career women.” He shook his head.

The doorbell rang.

He stopped and turned with a smug smile. “Surprise, surprise,” he mumbled as he donned a sweatshirt. He headed toward the front door and opened it with a flourish. “And what can I do for you now, Leila?”

“Merry Christmas!” Orlando and his family shouted at him with armloads of wrapped gifts.

Startled, Garrick jerked back in surprise. “Oh, uh, Merry Christmas to you, too. Uh, come on in.” He stepped back and watched them enter one by one.

“Uncle Garrick, were you surprised?” his three-year-old niece, Omara, asked.

Garrick knelt down to her level. “I sure was, honey. I can’t believe you were able to keep a secret from me. It must have been hard.”

“Real hard.” Omara blinked her long, black, curly lashes and slid her arms around his neck. “I got a ’nother surprise for you.”

“You do?” He gathered her into his arms and stood. “What kind of surprise?” He closed the door.

“I gotcha a present.”

“Oh?” Garrick rounded his eyes as wide as he could get them. “I looovve presents.”

Omara giggled.

“Uh, who is Leila?” Tamara asked, sliding out of her coat.

“What?”

Tamara glanced at her husband. “Isn’t that what he said when he answered the door?”

Orlando shrugged. “I didn’t catch the name.”

“Well, I did.” She walked over to her brother-in-law and met his gaze with her hands firmly jammed onto her hips. “Who is she? And think twice before lying to me. You know I have my ways of finding the truth.”

Garrick chuckled at Tamara aka the human lie detector. “Calm down. It’s not what you think.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“You don’t,” Orlando piped in. “Nobody does. Nobody wants to know.”

Tamara turned her narrowed eyes toward him.

“Just trying to help my brother out.” He shrugged and returned his gaze to Garrick. “You’re on your own, bro.”

“I just want to make sure there isn’t another woman in the picture before I send him out on a date with one of my best friends. That’s all.”

“Then you can relax.” Garrick led them out of the foyer and toward the living room. “Leila is just my crazy neighbor across the street.”

Tamara perked. “You’ve already met your neighbors?”

“Just the one…and I’m already regretting it.”

Leila was ready to pull her hair out by the roots. Who knew something so tiny could be so loud…for so long? “Give me a few more minutes and your bottle will be ready,” she reassured.

She practiced bouncing the baby and patting her back the same way Garrick had, but it wasn’t working. Neither were her sorry attempts to warm up a freakin’ bottle. She’d warmed one up in the microwave with disastrous results, and she quickly learned leaving a bottle to heat for more than ten minutes on the stove caused the milky stuff to separate from the watery stuff.

Now she was on the quest to discover the perfect time for a baby bottle to warm. Meanwhile, Emma hollered as though she hadn’t eaten since Philip had passed the bread at the last supper.

“Okay. Okay, Emma,” she cooed. “I think this is going to be it.” Leila removed the bottle. “So far so good.”

Belatedly, she remembered seeing Roslyn test a bottle by squirting milk onto the back of her hand to double check the temperature, and she followed suit. However, the top wasn’t screwed on tight enough and it popped off the moment she turned the bottle over on her hand.

“Damn it!” She jumped back and managed not to drop the baby.

Emma screamed and nearly pierced Leila’s eardrum.

“What? Why are you screaming? I’m the one scalded.”

Her niece didn’t seem to care as she sucked more oxygen into her lungs and let it rip a second time.

Tears welled in the back of Leila’s eyes as her frustration reached an all-time high. She simply wasn’t made out for this sort of thing, but what choice did she have but to trudge through it?

“Okay. Okay. Please stop crying. Auntie Leila is doing the best she can.” She bounced and patted her some more as she made her way back to the diaper bag. “I’m sure we have another bottle in the bag.”

She was wrong.

“Oh, no. No. No.” She searched every inch of the bag at least ten times. “Please, God. Say this isn’t happening.”

But it was.

“Okay. I have to think.” However, Emma’s screams made it impossible.

Maybe her next-door neighbor…

Leila shook the rogue thought from her head. She couldn’t go back over there after the way she’d behaved—and she’d behaved badly. She still held in her defense that she’d practically begged the man for help, but he’d been so damn determined to bolt out of there that she…Okay, so there was really no excuse for her behavior.

Exhaling, Leila dug back through the bag and found small glass jars of baby food. “Oh, thank God.” She exhaled. “Let’s see what we have in here.” She returned to the stove, but once again was plagued with how long it took to warm up food.

Her stomach rumbled and reminded her that she, too, needed breakfast. “One thing at a time,” she told herself. “Okay, we have some very interesting-looking chicken and beef here.”

Emma bucked in her arms and grabbed a healthy portion of Leila’s hair.

“Ouch, you little spoiled brat.” Leila dropped one of the glass jars and ignored it when it shattered at her feet. “Let go.” She tugged for Emma to release her hold. Instead, the child yanked harder and intensified Leila’s mountainous headache. With one last pull, she finally let go.

“Oh, I give up.” Leila spun around and marched out of the kitchen. “Pride be damned. I can’t do this.”

Now dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a T-shirt, Garrick returned to the sparsely decorated living room with a six-inch tabletop Christmas tree that easily made Charlie Brown’s worthy for Times Square.

As he entered, Omara shrieked with joy at the sight of the armload of gifts he’d purchased.

Tamara rolled her eyes and shook her head. “We’d agreed on just one gift.”

“You said one gift, but I never agreed to it,” he reminded her with a soft smile and set the gifts down in the center of the floor.

His niece squealed in delight as she flew from her father’s lap to the packages.

“You two do nothing but spoil her,” Tamara complained.

Garrick laughed. “That’s what you’re supposed to do with little girls.”

“She knows,” Orlando said, winking at his wife. “She’s nothing but a big daddy’s girl herself.” He returned his attention to his brother. “Every time I see her father, he’s cleaning his gun.”

“I don’t blame him. She could’ve done better.”

Orlando’s brows dipped. “Hey!”

“What?” Garrick jabbed a thumb at his chest. “I was available.”

“You stay away from my wife, bro.” Orlando looped an arm around her waist. “I mean it. You play too much.”

“Daddy, look!” Omara tottered over to showcase her latest baby doll. “It cries just like a real baby!”

“Oh, joy.” Orlando smote his brother with a narrowed gaze.

“Hey, anything for the kids.” Garrick chuckled.

“That’s all right,” Tamara said, patting her husband’s leg. “Revenge will be ours when he finally has children.”

“If he can convince a woman to reproduce.”

Garrick’s smile disappeared. “That’s a low blow, man.”

“Cheer up. You were a hot commodity back in college. You just need to dust off your old player skills and jump back into the game.”

“Thanks for the pointers.”

“Anytime.”

The doorbell rang.

Garrick stood and headed for the door. “But Tamara’s right. I’ll have my turn one day. Hopefully sooner than later.”

Orlando and Tamara glanced at each other with knowing smiles.

“Is there something you want to tell us, bro?” Orlando shouted after him. “Do you have a bun in the oven somewhere?”

Garrick opened the door and then jumped back as a hysterical Leila breezed through.

“I can’t do this! I can’t do this!” She thrust Emma into his arms. “Here. If this is a woman thing, I’m missing a few genes.”

“What—?”

“I can’t fix a bottle…. I can’t even warm a jar of food—a damn jar.”

Garrick turned the child away from her. “We’ve been over this. Watch your language!” He stroked the child’s back and she immediately quieted down.

Leila’s eyes narrowed as she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Since you know so much, you take care of her.”

A stunned Tamara and Orlando inched into the foyer.

“Bro?”

Tamara folded her arms. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Garrick turned and then followed their wide stares. “Oh, no. She’s not…We’re not…This isn’t what it looks like.”

## Chapter 5

Leila felt like an ass.

“You have company,” she said, pointing out the obvious and backing toward the door. “I—I’m sorry.” She reached for Emma while a tidal wave of embarrassment crashed within her.

Garrick stepped back as his eyebrows rose in surprise and in amusement. “Apology accepted.” He faced his family again. “I’ll be right back.”

Tamara’s eyes darted between her brother-in-law and Leila. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no.” Garrick gestured Leila toward the door. “This will only take a moment. Just tell Omara I’ll be right back.” He followed his neighbor across the threshold and closed the door behind them.

Once alone on the front porch, Leila slumped against the white colonial column. “This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

“I take it you weren’t able to find anyone to help you?”

“It’s Christmas. Everyone I know is out of town or just cruelly avoiding my phone calls,” she complained, warding off tears. After a long, sidelong glance, she couldn’t discern if he thought she was a raving lunatic or not. Then again, why wouldn’t he?

“Look, about earlier—”

“Forget about it.” He smiled and glanced down at the sleeping baby nestled against his chest. “Looks like your little angel is knocked out.”

“Angel? Try devil.” Leila chuckled. “She hasn’t stopped screaming since you left.”

“Ah, poor thing,” he said as he descended the front stairs.

Leila’s gaze followed and took note of his strong shoulders, broad back and his cute butt. “Not bad,” she mumbled.

Garrick glanced back over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

She blinked. “Oh. Yes, I’m right behind you.”

Tamara and Orlando crowded together at the window by the front door. “What do you think is going on?” Tamara whispered.

“I have no idea, but did you see her hair?”

“Her hair?” Tamara leaned back to stare at her husband. “Surely that wasn’t the only thing you noticed?”

“Oh, you mean the baby?”

“Duh.” She popped him on the back of the head.

“What’s going on?” Omara joined them at the window, hugging two more dolls. “Where’s Uncle Garrick?”

Orlando peeked out the blinds again. “He, uh, just went to help out a neighbor. He’ll be right back.”

“Will I get to play with his baby when he comes back?”

Orlando glanced over at his wife’s smug smile. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

Now that her moment of temporary insanity had come to an end, Leila stepped out of the shower refreshed. Maybe it was all she needed to get a firm grip on her new situation. She donned her gray sweat suit and ran a brush through her hair while she blow-dried it straight. Minutes later, she descended the stairs.

“Wow. You clean up well,” Garrick complimented.

Flattered by the unexpected praise, Leila smiled as she stopped in front of him. “Where’s Emma?”

“Napping.” He smiled back and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “I, uh, cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, made a bottle, and jotted some notes on how to warm up everything.”

A blanket of shame covered Leila. “Look, my behavior today is inexcusable.”

“There’s no need—”

“Please, let me finish.” Her lips slid wider as she gazed up at him, noticing his brown eyes were more like the color of Hershey’s Kisses. “I’m normally a sane person and I truly appreciate you for not calling a mental institution to come and pick me up. You’ve gone beyond the call of duty for a new neighbor.” She shrugged. “Thank you.”

Garrick waited, and then asked, “Is that it?”

“If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

He chuckled. “You don’t owe me anything,” he assured and turned toward the door. “I was happy to help. If there’s something I forgot to write down, I’m just across the street.”

Though his words were kind, Leila couldn’t help but feel a chill—a distance.

Garrick stopped at the door. “If you need anything else—”

“I won’t. I mean—I’ve bothered you enough. I even dragged you away from your family…on Christmas,” she added with a small laugh.

He forced out a chuckle and shuffled out the door.

She watched him leave, still feeling like a complete ass.

“That poor woman,” Tamara exclaimed after Garrick relayed this morning’s shenanigans with his new neighbor. “Can you imagine waking up to something like that?” she asked her husband.

“I highly doubt you would run out in the neighborhood screaming like a banshee,” Garrick said, admiring his new watch from his niece.

“Don’t be so sure.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “A baby is a big deal—a lot of work, a life-changing event.”

Garrick and Orlando frowned.

“I’m just saying, I probably would’ve freaked, too.”

“But you already have a kid,” he reasoned.

Tamara’s eyes widened as her nose flared. “So what?” she snapped. “Sleep deprivation, constant feedings, and an endless assembly line of diaper changes are not my idea of fun.”

Orlando looked stunned. “I thought we were going to try for a boy?”

“Not right now,” she said, folding her arms. “I want to go back to school and start my own business.”

“You want to become a career woman?” Garrick said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Can’t you conquer the world after I have my son?” Orlando added.

Tamara ignored her husband and turned her attention back to Garrick. “And what’s wrong with a woman wanting a career? This is the twenty-first century. We don’t all want to be barefoot and pregnant or devote our entire lives to being housewives. At least I don’t.”

“I’m not saying you should,” Garrick defended. “I just think—”

“Ah.” Tamara set down her glass of Coke and pointed a finger at Garrick. “I know what this is about.”

“No. No.” Garrick quickly held up his hands and shook his head.

“Yes. Yes. This is about Miranda,” Tamara accused, and then rocked back with a hearty laugh. “That’s why you want to steer away from career women.”

Garrick and Orlando looked guiltily at each other.

“I don’t have a problem with career women,” he denied. At Tamara’s dubious stare, he added, “I just don’t want to marry another one.”

“Uh-huh.” Tamara crossed her arms. “Your neighbor is right. You are a sexist pig.”

“What?” Garrick glanced at his brother for help, but saw Orlando looking around as if he didn’t want any part of the conversation. “Okay, yes. There were some lessons learned from my marriage. The main one—I want a family, and people who want families should not marry those who don’t.”

“Women can have a career and a family.”

Garrick laughed. “That’s a myth.”

“What?”

He looked to his brother again.

“You’re on your own, bro,” Orlando laughed. “I live with her.”

Tamara smote her husband with a look and he quickly fell silent again.

“Fine. I’ll go it alone.” Garrick met Tamara’s gaze. “I don’t know who sold women on the idea they could have it all, but it’s not true. It’s impossible to run a business and a household harmoniously and successfully. Something has to give and Leila Owens is going to learn that real soon.”

“Okay, little Emma.” Leila drew a deep breath and slipped on a pair of yellow rubber gloves. “Let’s change your diaper.”

Emma squirmed on the sofa and rewarded her aunt with a gummy smile.

Leila’s heart squeezed and she grudgingly smiled back. However, her lips curled the other direction the moment she peeled back the diaper. “Good Lord, what was in that bottle?”

Emma giggled and kicked her legs.

“Oh, child. Please don’t do that.” She tried to catch the baby’s legs; but she wasn’t successful until after Emma had made a bigger mess. Success came after a half box of baby wipes and a mushroom cloud of baby powder. Other than that— “Perfect!”

Leila lifted Emma and then watched in dismay as her creation slid off the child’s heinie. Of course, her niece chose that moment to pee all over her white sofa.

“Goddamn it, Sam.”

## Chapter 6

The first workday after Christmas, Atlanta Spice returned to its usual buzz of hectic calm where photographers were late, freelance writers were behind schedule, and the company’s CEO was still recovering from a mental breakdown.

“She’s adorable,” Ciara cooed, waving the stuffed frog in front of a giggling Emma. “How could you not love a face like this?” She leaned over and planted a kiss against the baby’s chubby cheeks.

“She’s only adorable in front of company, but not when she’s peeing on my couch.” Leila looked up from her desk. “Which cost me a pretty penny to have cleaned. Not to mention the cost of turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery.”

“You already hired someone to do that?”

“Had to. I’m not going to keep changing Ms. Thang on my expensive furniture. I’m paying a decorator double time to have the room done by the end of the day.”

Ciara continued to coo over the child. “Have you had any luck locating Sam?”

“None.” Leila removed her reading glasses and leaned back in her oversize office chair. “It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth. Which might be a wise move on her part because if I ever get my hands on her—”

“A woman who can just walk away from her child has to be in a lot of pain,” Ciara sympathized. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with.”

Leila didn’t respond, but sat up and returned her attention to the stacks of paper on her desk.

“Of course, you look like hell.”

“I haven’t slept for more than two hours since Christmas Eve,” Leila complained, staring at her niece. “I don’t know how anybody does it. I feel like a walking zombie.”

“When is Roslyn returning from her vacation?”

“Five days.”

“Are you going to make it?”

“I’m a survivor.” Leila straightened in her chair. “I’ve had to get through a lot worse.”

“You’re going to hire a nanny, aren’t you?”

“Damn right.” Leila glanced at her watch. “I have an important meeting tonight and I have no intentions of dragging a screaming baby into a five-star restaurant. Hearst Communications has the distribution that can take this magazine to the next level. I simply can’t miss or reschedule this meeting.”

“What about that gorgeous hunk across the street from you?” Ciara smiled.

Leila regretted telling Ciara that part of the story. “Gorgeous doesn’t do him justice.” Dropping her elbows down on her desk, she sighed and indulged in a moment to reflect on the best butt she’d seen on a man.

“You know, it’s not every day a woman runs into a baby whisperer.”

She snapped out of her trance. “Okay. Now you’re just making this stuff up.”

“C’mon. You know what I mean. A man who can change diapers, fix bottles and rock a baby to sleep…?” She sobered. “Are you sure he’s not married?”

“I didn’t see a ring.” Leila shrugged as she gave the question considerable thought. “I don’t think so.”

“Did he show up on your gaydar?”

“Not even a bleep.”

“Well.” Ciara clapped her hands. “I say we jump his bones.”

“We?” Leila laughed.

“I’m a pregnant married woman. I have to live vicariously through someone. It might as well be you.”

“What? Elmo isn’t getting it for you?”

“Lay off my husband’s name,” Ciara warned. “I think it’s cute.”

Emma cooed and giggled at the playpen’s rotating mobile.

The women glanced over at the child and smiled.

“Are you sure you want to pawn her off on some stranger?”

“Look, I have a company to run.” Leila perked. “Unless you and Elmo—”

“I would if I could, but Elmo’s parents are flying in tonight.” Ciara patted her belly. “We told them the news on Christmas morning and now they insist on coming in for a visit. But I think you’re missing a wonderful opportunity to peek inside what motherhood is like.”

“My view of motherhood has not changed. It’s not for me.”

“Still. You know you have to be very careful whom you leave a child with. In fact, it’s not unheard of to run a criminal and credit check, and then you might want to set up cameras throughout the house so you can keep an eye out on what’s going on.”

Leila hadn’t considered all of that; but now, since Ciara had brought it up, one could never be too careful.

Once Ciara returned to her desk, Leila spent the next twenty minutes feeding, burping and obsessing with whether she made the right decision to hire a nanny. It suddenly seemed risky.

“Ms. Owens, your one o’clock appointment is here to see you,” Ciara reported over the speakerphone.

“Send her in.”

The moment the door opened, Emma started crying. No wonder, given the middle-aged Englishwoman’s frosty nature.

“You have an impressive résumé, Ms. Howard.” Leila smiled and tried Garrick’s patting-and-bouncing trick.

“Children are my life,” Ms. Howard said without smiling. “All they need is a strict set of rules and a firm hand.”

Leila shifted and wondered at her meaning.

“Holding the child like that is just spoiling her.” The woman’s thin lips pursed as she shook her head. “It’s not good to reward bad behavior.”

“Excuse me?” Leila shouted above Emma’s wails.

The elderly woman stood from her chair and reached for the baby. “May I see her?”

Emma clutched Leila’s blouse and screamed louder. Did her niece sense something strange about the woman?

You know you have to be very careful whom you leave a child with.

“Uh, no.” Leila turned away from the experienced nanny. “I think that’s enough with the questions for the day.” She yelled above the wails and flashed a tight smile. “I’ll be in contact.”

Ms. Howard drew her hands back and stared down the end of her nose. “Very well.” She gathered her things. “I hope to hear from you.”

As soon as the door closed behind the Englishwoman, Emma stopped crying.

Leila frowned at her sniffling, wide-eyed niece and wondered what the devil had just happened. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re like your mother—high-maintenance.”

Emma batted her long lashes, flashed her dimpled cheeks and released a high giggle.

“Whatever.”