No Strings Attached. Millie Criswell
be cynical. It doesn’t suit you. And she is your mother, whether you like it or not.”
“You women always stick together.”
“I’m right and you know it, Jack. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“At least Ross takes my side. He knows the kind of shit I’ve put up with from my parents.”
“My brother has a big mouth and should mind his own business.”
“Yeah, Ross gossips like an old woman. But he’s been a good friend.”
“Speaking of Ross, has he mentioned his plans for marrying Ellen? They’ve been dating off and on for years, but they still don’t seem very well suited.”
“Sometimes opposites attract.”
“True. But I don’t sense any sexual energy between them, do you?” They gazed at each other for several moments, and Samantha’s heartbeat quickened. Then Jack cleared his throat and the spell was broken.
“You’ve been watching your Sex and the City DVDs again, haven’t you?”
In fact, she had, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “This is serious. Do you know anything or not?”
“I wouldn’t break Ross’s confidence even if I did. But I assume he loves Ellen or he wouldn’t have stuck it out for so long. Two years is a long time to date someone.”
“Not necessarily. I detest you and I’m still here.”
He tweaked her nose. “You’d be lost without me, and you know it. Besides, we’re not dating.”
“Someday you’re going to meet a woman who’ll knock you off your feet. Then you’ll leave and get married.” Samantha knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, and when it did it would break her heart. She never allowed herself to question why.
Jack was too good a man not to be part of a wonderful relationship. She just hoped he found someone deserving of him—and that wouldn’t be any of the Bunny, Kitty or Fawns that currently traipsed through his bedroom.
He shook his head. “Don’t bet on it, sweetheart. I’m not interested in tying myself down. I’d rather serve time in prison. Same thing, if you ask me.”
Samantha knew exactly where her friend was coming from. After growing up in a houseful of domineering males, she had no desire to live under any man’s thumb. Men were too opinionated, too direct and some of the stuff that poured out of their collective mouths was pure idiocy, yet they considered it to be manna from heaven.
Just like you, Samantha.
Oh, all right! So maybe I’m a tad opinionated, but I’m nowhere near as bad as a man, thank God!
Marriage just wasn’t in the cards for her. Not now, not ever, as far as she was concerned. Sure, Samantha had once bought into the dream every young woman had about meeting Mr. Right, falling madly in love and living happily ever after. But at thirty-one, she had finally come to the conclusion that marriage was not her destiny.
Perhaps her unfortunate affair with Tony had soured her on love, or maybe it was just the fact the man she had secretly desired all those years ago—the one whose name she’d written over and over again on her notebooks…Mrs. Jack Turner, Samantha Turner, Samantha and Jack Turner, would never be hers.
And since she and Jack were just good friends, and since she didn’t settle, there was really no point in marrying anyone else.
CHAPTER TWO
“THANKS SO MUCH for offering to babysit,” Samantha’s next-door neighbor said. “I really need to get out of this apartment for a little while. I never realized how all-consuming a new baby is.”
“No problem, Mary. We all need a little time to ourselves once in a while.” Samantha peered into the crib at the infant sleeping soundly and felt her heart squeeze. She was pink, perfect and oh so precious. “Melissa’s beautiful. You’re lucky to have her.”
“Jim and I feel blessed. We’ve been trying for years to have a baby, and then when we were just about to give up, I found out I was pregnant.”
The Walkers were a lovely young couple who had moved into the building a year ago, and Samantha was thrilled for them. “Well, don’t worry about a thing. Just take your time and enjoy the afternoon. I’ll take good care of Melissa.”
“I should be back before she wakes up, but in case I’m not, there are bottles of formula right next to the crib. No need to heat them up—she takes her bottle at room temperature. Just pop the nipple and you’re good to go.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Samantha said with a lot more confidence than she felt. She hadn’t spent a lot of time around babies. Most of the kids she’d previously babysat had been a lot older and didn’t poop their pants.
“I’m using Pampers on Melissa,” Mary said, as if reading Samantha’s mind.
“We’ll be fine. Now go and enjoy the fresh air, window shop, have an ice-cream sundae. Relax.”
Mary exited the room with a huge smile on her face, and Samantha tiptoed out of the nursery and headed for the living room, where she’d left her work in progress. Settling onto the sofa, she had just picked up her pen when she heard the first wail through the baby monitor.
Fear and uncertainty filled her momentarily, but she figured she was a lot bigger and smarter than a one-month-old baby. How hard could it be to comfort a screaming infant, anyway?
Turns out, very.
Upon entering the nursery, she made a face at the unpleasant odor that assailed her and knew immediately that Melissa had made a doodle in her diaper. Samantha could have called it shit, but doodle sounded much nicer for an infant.
Picking the baby up, she set out to change the offending diaper while trying to hold her nose closed. But that was easier said than done. Melissa’s tiny legs were flailing as she removed the Pamper. Shit flew everywhere, including in Samantha’s hair.
“Quit being gross, Melissa. I’m new at this so give me a break, okay?” The baby stared back at her intently for a moment, giving the illusion that she had actually listened, but then began squirming again. So much for reason.
Grabbing a handful of baby wipes, Samantha cleaned the mess out of her hair, and then went to work on Melissa. After changing her diaper, she put the baby into an adorable pink stretchy thing called a onesie, and then carried her to the rocking chair situated beneath the window.
Nestling her nose in the baby’s downy hair, Samantha inhaled. Melissa smelled wonderful, like spring blossoms and sweet chocolate cake, all rolled into one. For some reason, babies always smelled good…well, when they were doodle-free, that is. Like new cars, the smell only lasted for a brief time, but it was so distinctive that you never really forgot it.
The baby stared wide-eyed at Samantha, taking her measure, she supposed. Samantha smiled and cooed, and as she held the baby in her arms the strangest thing happened—her heart actually felt so full she thought it might burst.
Samantha had always been so dead-set against marriage that she hadn’t given a great deal of thought to what not getting married would mean. She’d never have a child. She’d never change a poopy diaper or hug a sweet-smelling baby to her breast, and she would never know the joy and pain of childbirth, of experiencing one of God’s greatest gifts.
Then again, she didn’t have to be married to have a baby. She wasn’t saying she would, but if she really wanted a baby, she could have one on her own.
It was an intriguing possibility.
AN HOUR LATER, the baby was finally asleep. But no sooner had Samantha sat down with her work again than a soft knock sounded on the door.
It couldn’t be Mary; the woman had a key.