Valentine's Day. Nicola Marsh
“Babysitter?” For the first time since he’d come in the room, he raised his gaze from his study of the baby. “There’s a babysitter?”
Tito nodded. “I told her to wait in the bedroom.”
Max nodded back, then his eyes narrowed. “Where’s Sheila?” he asked, naming his brother’s girlfriend.
He’d only met her once. She was pretty, of course, and nice enough in her way, but her way tended to be a ditzy combination of brainless chatter and limitless desire for luxurious things. She and Gino were no longer an item when he was killed in the crash of a small plane. No one seemed to know what had happened to her. It was only months later that she began calling, claiming she’d had Gino’s child, demanding money.
Tito’s shrug was all encompassing. “The babysitter doesn’t know. She says she was hired three days ago, and Sheila was supposed to be back in twenty-four hours. She has no contact number and Sheila hasn’t called.”
“Have you searched the place for phone numbers or addresses?”
“Of course. I haven’t found anything relevant.”
“Damn. Well, we can’t just wait here.”
“The babysitter said she was getting pretty scared herself. She was about on the point of calling the police when I got here.”
“But she didn’t?”
“No. At least, that’s what she claims.”
“Good.” Max nodded again. “We’ll get a local lawyer to handle this before we speak to the authorities.”
Tito looked at him intently. “So you plan to take the baby?”
“Of course.”
Tito nodded, but as if on cue, the baby began to fuss.
Max stared down at it. So did Tito. The fussing got more serious.
“It’s crying,” Tito said at last.
“Yes. So it seems.” Max backed away a bit. Crying babies were not within his sphere of experience and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know more.
Tito tried wiggling his fingers in front of the baby’s face, but he only cried louder.
“It won’t stop,” he noted, beginning to look worried.
Max frowned, uneasy as well. “No.” He looked at his assistant. “Was it crying before?”
Tito shook his head. “It’s been asleep, I think. I know it wasn’t making this kind of noise.”
“It is now.” Max winced as the decibel level increased.
“Well, what do you do when they cry?” Tito asked his boss, seemingly at a loss.
Max’s frown grew fiercer. “How the hell should I know?”
The two men looked at each other, then back down at the baby. The mood was grim.
By now, Cari had managed to cross the room and was right behind them. She could just barely see the baby. He was crying as though his heart would break, holding nothing back. Her fear, her panic, was gone now. Her heart thumped in her chest, but she had things under a fair modicum of control. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her way between the men.
“Don’t knock yourselves out looking for the off switch,” she advised tartly. “They don’t have one.”
Max stepped back, seeming relieved as she reached the crib and curled her fingers around the bar. Steeling herself, she looked down, bracing for the sight. A mass of dark hair, fat cheeks red with crying, eyes squinted shut, two little fists waving in the air—this child looked nothing like hers. Relief flooded her and she closed her eyes for two seconds, then glanced down again and spoke to him.
“Hey little fellow,” she crooned. “What’s all this about? Don’t you worry. You’re going to be okay.”
The sound of a feminine voice stopped the last cry in his throat and he opened his dark brown eyes and looked up at her. A remnant sob shook him, but he stared at her curiously as though she were something brand-new and possibly very interesting.
She smiled. He was adorable. Reaching down, she gathered him up and took him into her arms. And then she closed her eyes and let the feeling wash over her. She had a baby close against her. That special sort of enchantment had been her daily experience for such a short time before it was taken from her. And now, for the first time in two years, she could feel it again. Tears welled in her eyes.
“You can handle this, then?” the man who’d brought her here was saying.
She nodded without looking at him. She didn’t want him to see that her eyes were wet.
Max stared at her. He wasn’t always as sensitive as he should be to women’s feelings, but he could tell something was going on here. He just wasn’t quite sure what it was, and Tito beckoned from the door to the bedroom. He hesitated only a moment before he decided she was okay, and he turned and went into the side room to question the babysitter.
Cari held the baby gently and cooed, rocking the tiny body, until all whimpering quieted. The little eyes closed, long, dark lashes fluttering against rounded cheeks, and then he was still. She kissed his head and hummed softly. It seemed so natural. Her own baby had trained her well, though she didn’t want to think about that. Blocking out the past was a part of accepting the present for her right now. She’d done a lot of time in her own personal agony and she couldn’t live that way forever. But she’d spent much too long trying to avoid all contact with babies, hoping to avoid the pain memories brought with them. Now that she’d been thrust into this situation and forced to deal with it, she found she was in a special sort of heaven and she didn’t even look up when the men came back into the room. She was floating on feelings and ignoring everything else.
When she heard the woman’s voice she looked up in surprise, but hardly paid attention as the older lady left the room, Tito leaving close behind her. Vaguely, she was aware that this had been the babysitter and that Tito was driving the woman home, but it seemed to have nothing much to do with her enjoyment of this wonderful baby.
Max watched her for a moment, surprised to see how quickly she’d adapted to a style of nurturing he didn’t remotely understand.
“So, what do you think of him?” he asked.
“He’s a duck,” she murmured, smiling wistfully as she hugged him close and rocked him. “A sweet little baby duck. I don’t ever want to put him down.”
He nodded. “He looks pretty good to me, too. As long as he’s not crying.”
She flashed a startled look at the tall man beside her. She’d had dealings with a man who was irrationally bothered by a baby crying. It wasn’t a good thing. But she calmed down immediately. After all, what he’d said was probably a common complaint.
“Who is he?” she asked, stroking the hair on his little head. “What’s the connection?”
He hesitated, then decided he might as well tell the truth. “He’s my brother’s child,” he said. “At least, that’s the assumption. We’ll find out after DNA testing is done.”
She drew back. Something didn’t sit well with her. All the sense of well-being brought on by holding this baby seemed to melt away quickly.
“He’s your brother’s baby and you’ve never seen him before?” She frowned, searching his face for clues.
He shrugged. “I’ve been in Italy,” he said, as though that explained everything.
She made a face. “Where’s your brother? Or the baby’s mother, for that matter?”
“Good question.” He decided to ignore the part about his brother. “We don’t know. She seems to have disappeared. The babysitter said she should have been back days ago.”