The Parent Test. Elizabeth Duke
requires a lot of time and tience—and stamina,’ he drawled, obviously referring to the way she’d almost nodded off. ‘It isn’t as exciting as finding an ancient tomb or digging up old bones,’ he pointed out dryly. ‘It’s a relentless routine of feeds, bathing, changing nappies—including smelly, dirty ones—and keeping the baby amused and safe when she’s awake.’
Roxy found her voice, if shakily. ‘I’ve just f-flown back from America. It was a long flight and I was so worried about Emma I—I barely slept on the plane!’ She was trembling. Even her bottom lip was trembling. She realised she was dangerously close to bursting into tears again. Hysterical tears this time.
Cam would just love that, she thought, pulling herself together with an effort. Hysterical women didn’t make capable, calm mothers, he’d be thinking to himself. And he’d be right
‘Maybe you’d better go to bed and sleep it off,’ Cam suggested in a marginally gentler tone. ‘I can take care of Emma. I’ll put her in her stroller and take her for a walk along the cliffs. She loves that. Don’t worry about your dinner. I’ll leave it for you and you can heat it up in the microwave when you wake up.’
Roxy bit down on her lip, her nerve ends bristling a warning. He was letting her know that she wasn’t needed. I can take care of Emma.
‘They say it’s better for your body clock if you keep going until your normal bedtime,’ she asserted, drawing herself up and arching her back. ‘It was just sitting here for so long that made me drowsy. I’m fine now. Maybe we could have our dinner early?’ she suggested in the same breath. ‘I’ll go to bed straight after that.’ Then she wouldn’t have to spend the evening alone with Cam. She just didn’t feel up to it.
‘Whatever you say. You’re the guest’.
Just a guest, he might as well have said. She compressed her lips. He obviously didn’t expect her to stay at Raeburns’ Nest for long…didn’t believe that she was serious about giving up her field work to take care of her baby niece. Well, he’d soon find out how wrong he was.
She dropped to her knees beside the baby, who was happily chewing on her rubber dog. ‘I’ll play with Emma,’ she offered, ‘while you go and have a shave or something.’ It was a gentle reminder that Cam could do with a helping hand himself.
He paused for a moment, then said, ‘Right. I will. If Emma kicks up a fuss when I leave the room, you could try taking her for a walk in the garden. That usually works. If it doesn’t, you know where to find me. My room’s the one next to the nursery—on this side.’
He turned away, thankfully, before he could see the flush that rose to her cheeks. She had no wish to be reminded where his bedroom was!
She slept for twelve solid hours that night, not waking until nine the next morning. She had to force her eyes open against the sunlight streaming into her room. When she squinted at her watch and saw the time she groaned aloud. Cam must have been up for hours already, probably since five this morning, dealing with the baby on his own.
What would he think of her for sleeping in so late? That she didn’t care about Emma after all?
She scrambled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. She didn’t waste time showering, simply splashing her face with water to wake herself up, then dragging on jeans and a T-shirt. She didn’t even brush her hair. Not that her short jagged hairstyle looked much different when she did.
She found Cam in the kitchen feeding the baby from a Peter Rabbit bowl. For a second she paused at the doorway, entranced by the sight of this big, tall, very masculine man bending over a baby’s highchair, patiently spooning cereal into his niece’s open mouth. He was chatting away all the while, giving words of encouragement one second, glowing praise the next, and cracking the odd corny joke—for all the world like any proud real father.
She felt an emotional lump swell in her throat. Cam’s brother Hamish had been a wonderful father. Now she could see that Cam would make a great father, too.
Would she make as good a mother? She sighed, chewing on her lip. She wouldn’t have a home like this to offer Emma, for a start. Or buckets of money, like Cam, for clothes, food, creche fees, schooling… ‘Ah, good morning.’ As if sensing her presence, Cam glanced round. ‘Come in, Roxy, Emma’s just finished. Scraped the bowl clean.’ He wiped the baby’s face clean with a damp cloth. ‘Well done, princess!’ Little Emma beamed.
Roxy stepped forward, relieved that he’d made no caustic comment about her late appearance. Because he hadn’t remarked on it, she did. ‘Sorry I slept in—’ she began.
He waved a hand. ‘I’m glad you did. You’re looking much better. You were out on your feet last night.’
‘I know. Sorry, I wasn’t much company.’ She’d almost fallen asleep at the dining-room table, over his excellent dinner, which he’d served up as soon as they’d put the baby down for the night—with her tiny arms curled around her new teddy bear.
Roxy could barely even remember what they’d talked about over the meal. Nothing controversial…she would have remembered that. They’d talked a little about Hamish and Serena, she recalled with a tremor, and they’d talked about Emma and her cute habits and mannerisms, and how she learned to do something new each day. After dinner Cam had refused her offer of help in the kitchen, pointing to the automatic dishwasher, and she’d excused herself and stumbled off to bed.
‘You were just fine,’ Cam said lightly, turning back to the baby before she could read what was in his eyes. ‘I slept in, too,’ he admitted over his shoulder. ‘Emma didn’t wake until seven this morning, believe it or not. I actually had time for a shower and shave before she woke up.’
Roxy swallowed. She’d noticed. Not only was he clean-shaven, well scrubbed and smooth-haired, but he was neatly dressed in a maroon polo shirt, light-coloured pants, and smart casual shoes. Was it in her honour? she wondered dubiously. Or was he planning to go out—leaving her to care for the baby? To test her dedication, perhaps? To see if she’d be more than ready to hand the baby back after a few hours alone with her?
She soon found out. Later in the morning while the baby was taking a nap and she was hanging out some washing that she’d insisted on doing for Cam, she heard the front doorbell ring. When she came back into the kitchen she heard. voices coming from the family room. Not wanting to intrude, she slipped into the passage leading to the guest wing, deciding to take a shower and do some tidying up while she waited for Emma to wake up.
A woman’s voice wafted through the open door of the family room. ‘Let’s slip out to a restaurant for lunch, Cam, while you have the chance. This relative of yours can mind the baby for a few hours, surely?’
Roxy’s steps faltered. The woman’s voice was young and sultry, with a familiar, possessive ring. Was this Cam’s future bride?
She spun round. Why was she running away? Why not face the woman, and see what kind of mother Cam intended to inflict on her poor little niece? The sexy-voiced siren sounded more interested in having Cam take her out to Sunday lunch than in spending time with baby Emma. Roxy’s blood boiled.
She marched back to the family room. The open door revealed Cam and his female guest sitting side by side on the sofa. The woman, in a tight black dress that showed off her very noticeable curves, was swaying towards Cam, her glossy red lips pouting in invitation, her long dark hair cascading over her slender shoulders…and over Cam’s left arm.
Another ravishing brunette! Roxy’s blue eyes glinted. Was there no end to Cam’s procession of flashy brunettes? Or was this one the last of a long line? The chosen one?
Her thoughts grew blacker than ever.
Cam, she noticed as he glanced up, had some papers on his lap. She felt her heart constrict. Were he and his dark-eyed bimbo in the process of applying for a marriage license? Were these the papers they had to sign?
‘Ah, Roxy…come in.’ Cam swept the papers aside