The Brennan Baby. Barbara Boswell
while Gillian gave Ashley her bottle, Devlin sprawled on the sofa and observed them.
He was reluctant to leave and Gillian was too preoccupied with the baby to remember to tell him to get lost.
“You mentioned a day care center,” he said, finally breaking the long silence. “Is it the one in the hospital for employees’ kids?”
Gillian nodded, her eyes never leaving Ashley’s face. The baby’s eyelids were finally drooping and she seemed on the verge of falling asleep. “It’s a good place.” She spoke in a low voice, so as not to disturb Ashley. “She’s been going there since she was a month old.”
“You were on maternity leave till then?”
She nodded again. “I used my paid vacation time for the first two weeks and the rest was unpaid maternity leave. Then I had to go back to work.” Gillian stared into space, looking weary and dispirited. “Our foster mother is dead set against day care centers. She thinks I should hire a sitter to stay home with the baby, but I can’t afford it. When Mom hears that Ashley is sick, she’ll blame the center She calls them CDCs—Centers for Disease and Contagion.”
“Hmm, a wordplay on the Center for Disease Control. Not a bad one, either,” Devlin said lightly.
Gillian shot him a look. “It’s wordplay I don’t like to hear, not even as a joke. Not when my baby is spending eight hours a day there.”
“You have nothing to worry about The hospital day care center is fully accredited. I know plenty of people on staff whose kids go there. But if I may offer you a little advice, Gillian? Don’t tell your mom that Ashley is sick. Spare yourself the CDC puns. What you don’t need right now is an extended guilt trip.”
“Mom Sinsel isn’t like that,” Gillian protested. “But...maybe I won’t tell her about Ashley’s ear infection just yet.”
“No use worrying the dear lady,” Devlin said dryly.
Gillian looked up, a smile curving the corners of her mouth. Her eyes met his. And held. Her heart seemed to jump into her throat and then plunge deep into the pit of her stomach. Was she imagining it? Or was Devlin Brennan looking at her as if...as if—
Her internal gyrations picked up speed. The brooding focus of his gaze, the intensity in his deep blue eyes, were unmistakably sexual. Gillian knew that look well. He’d directed it toward her before, countless times during those three fateful months they’d been together.
Rather than attempting to conceal his desire, he was allowing her to read it in his eyes, on his face. Involuntarily, her gaze fell to his lap and she saw the hard bulge straining against the well-worn denim of his jeans. He was making no attempt to conceal that visible evidence from her, either.
Before she could suppress it, Gillian felt her own immediate response deep within the feminine center of her. It was so intense it bordered on pain, but it was a sweet pain, a tantalizing erotic combination of pleasure and searing ache. Gillian gulped for breath.
In a swift sensually explicit flashback, she felt the passion that had burned between them surface once again. It had been fierce and honest and real. With Devlin, she’d experienced the kind of enthralling lovemaking that only results from a mutual combination of trust and desire.
A definite first for her. She had trusted him and wanted him and fallen deeply in love with him, dropping her guard and her vigilance as never before. And for a while, it had worked. She’d been blissfully happy—emotionally, sexually, and every other way there was to be happy.
Physically, they had been in total accord, from the desire that flared hot and deep between them to the sweet afterglow of mutual satisfaction. But there had been more than good sex between them. They’d had fun together out of bed, too, talking and laughing and teasing each other. Devlin’s hours as an orthopedic resident were grueling and they’d spent much of his time off in his apartment where he could relax and unwind. Gillian had been content just to be with him, to he beside him while he was sleeping, to be there when he awakened, hard and hungry and wanting her.
Wanting sex, she amended quickly. Any woman would have served his purpose, she simply happened to be the one who was there during those three months. Afterward, Devlin had no trouble finding others to take her place in his bed and in his life.
Gillian had heard all about her successors. Though the hospital’s social work department was located in another wing from the orthopedic unit, the grapevine was extremely efficient, reaching all areas. Hospital gossip seemed to travel faster than the speed of sound, especially gossip about certain attractive, eligible bachelors.
Gillian remembered that time. The pain of wanting Devlin and not having him had been intense, but she had coped. She was accustomed to coping with pain—at least it was a familiar state. Happiness wasn’t, not really. Her foster sister, Carmen Salazar, had said it best when she’d once confided, “Being happy scares the hell out of me.”
Gillian understood all too well. As hard as she’d worked to overcome her troubled past, there were some lessons that were too deeply ingrained to be erased in only three months, however wonderful. Being wary of happiness, fearing its loss while waiting for it to be snatched away were only a few.
“You look scared to death.” Devlin’s eyes narrowed as he continued to watch her intently. “Are you still worried about the baby—or is it something else altogether?”
Agitated, Gillian began to rock the chair faster. She’d never credited Devlin with much emotional insight and he openly scoffed at what he deemed “those touchy-feely-guys-who-cry,” but suddenly he seemed far too perceptive.
She resolutely withdrew, blocking the memories and fighting her need for him. Years of practice made her adept at emotional shutdowns.
“I’ll put Ashley in her crib now. Thank you for all your help, Devlin.” Gillian stood up, careful not to awaken the sleeping infant. “I’m sorry we intruded on your off-duty hours with a medical problem. I can manage now.”
“No need for me to stick around, huh? In other words, take off.”
She flushed. “If I sounded rude and ungrateful, I apologize.”
“Can you make your tone any more impersonal, Gillian?” Devlin didn’t move from his position on the sofa. “I’m half expecting you to offer to write me a check for making a house call.”
Gillian’s temper flared. “Exactly what do you want me to say and how am I expected to say it, Dev?” she whispered crossly.
“Put the baby to bed and we’ll talk about it.”
“We have nothing to say to each other, Devlin.”
“Don’t we?”
“No!” It was hard to sound forceful while whispering She was at a definite disadvantage, trying not to disturb the baby while attempting to send Devlin on his way. It was imperative that she get him out of here before he could act on those impulsive amatory urges he’d suddenly developed. Because if she were to respond to him...
She glanced down at Ashley, sleeping peacefully in her arms. For her child’s sake, for her own sake, she had to keep Devlin Brennan away. She would play the role of nasty bitch, if she had to. A man like Dev, with women falling all over him, would have no use for a woman who didn’t treat him like a god.
“When I come back into this room, I expect you to be gone,” Gillian said coldly, all signs of appreciation and friendliness eradicated from her tone, from her expression.
She earned Ashley into her bedroom and laid the baby in her crib, staying there for a long time watching the child sleep. When she finally returned to the living room, it was empty. Devlin had gone.
Well, she’d figured that Devlin Brennan would accept nothing less than one hundred percent adoration in return for his golden presence. A man like him wouldn’t waste his time with the cranky mother of a sick baby. Not even if that baby was his own.
“Good!”