The Baby Battle (9 page)

“You don’t like it?” he asked, a squirming Flynn in his arms. They’d just finished a frozen gourmet pizza and a bagged Caesar salad. Considering the fact that she hadn’t had to eat alone, it had tasted delicious.

“If I were at a spa, I’d be in heaven, but I’m just not sure of the logistics.”

He looked crestfallen.

“But you know what?” she said with forced cheer. “Together we’re going to make this work. With a little ingenuity, it’ll be fun.”

“Name it. What do you need me to do?”

“First,” she said, spying the blue plastic infant tub perched in a corner, “you’ll need a bathing suit.”

“I can do that.” He turned to the door. “Anything else?”

“Nope. I’ll dig through boxes for mine, and then we’ll rendezvous back at the Roman bathhouse.”

“Quit with the digs. Maria was proud of this room. She grew up in a two-bedroom home shared by six other
people. She worked her way through college, hoping to provide her own children with the kind of fairytale life she’d never had. Having her sister stay in this room brought my wife great joy. If you don’t like it, you can—”

“I’m sorry.” Crossing to him, she slipped her arms around him for a hug. Tag held Flynn in the crook of his right arm. Being this up close and personal to her baby’s father was overwhelming, but she persevered. She’d caught whiffs of his citrus aftershave before, but now she found herself immersed in the heady scent. From a few feet away she’d recognized him to be a strong man, but touching him like this alerted her to the fact that his body was rock hard. Pulse racing, she added, “Really, truly. I’ve never seen anything this beautiful outside of a magazine and it caught me off guard. It will be a privilege to live here.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, backing away as if bothered by her touch. “So…” He hitched his thumb toward his room at the other end of the long upstairs hall. “Let me get my suit, and we’ll get to work.”

Momentarily on her own, since Tag and Flynn had become inseparable, Olivia gazed in the double-sink vanity mirror. She looked normal. A little tired maybe, but her hair was neat. Her black slacks and white blouse were still crisp. She’d only given Tag a hug, so what about it had made him release her as if she carried the plague?

Why do you care?

Her conscience’s question was fair enough. Maybe she cared because she hugged her friends all the time.

Male friends? When’s the last time you hugged a male coworker? Or Dane?

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Fingers to her temples, she rubbed. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t on trial here. Now that she and Tag would be living together, so-called normal rules didn’t apply.

Turning her back on the accusing mirror, she felt the water, found the temperature just right, then turned off the taps. Behind the tub was a wall of windows overlooking a garden featuring some early wildflowers growing amongst a haphazard tumble of boulders. Beyond that was a pine forest shielding Tag’s house from the neighbors.

“Where’s your suit?”

Startled, Olivia put her hand to her pounding heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. Me and the little guy are ready for bath time, though, so if you want to get in on the fun, you’d better get out of those uptight duds and into something more suitable for the beach.”

In a walk-in closet larger than her former bedroom Olivia dug through three boxes before finding the right one. Never having been a big swimsuit fan, she removed a simple black tank designed to cover more than it showed.

From the bathroom came giggles and happy laughter from both Flynn and Tag.

In record time she tugged out of her clothes and into her swimsuit.

“No fair starting without me,” Olivia complained, climbing the three steps leading to the pool, then easing in. The water was a little cool for her taste, but perfect for Flynn, who was the reason for the strangest bath time she’d ever shared.

The bath was at least twelve feet long by eight feet wide, and boasted underwater benches angled just right for reclining.

It was near the top of one these benches that Tag had perched Flynn’s minitub and was scrubbing the baby head to toe.

“How am I doing?” Tag asked.

“Looks good to me. Although you missed a spot behind his right knee.”

“Damn,” Tag muttered under his breath. “And here I thought I had everything.”

“Relax,” she said, rubbing her son’s wet tummy. She sat on the soaking tub’s edge, knee-deep in warm water. “I’m teasing. You’re doing a great job.”

“Speaking of great,” he said, “you look nice in that suit. Maria favored one-pieces, but I always teased her about wanting to see her in a bikini.”

“Oh.” Why, she couldn’t say, but Olivia was growing weary of Tag’s constant references to his wife. Which made her feel like the most hateful woman in the world. What did it matter to her if Tag was still in love with a memory?

Framing her face with her hands, she realized she had no answer. Jealousy? No way. She’d vowed never to put her heart out there again.

“How’s he looking now?”

“Huh?” She glanced up to see her sudsy son giggle. Flynn’s bath time was one of her favorite parts of the day. How had she let it slip by? “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Where were you just now?”

“My mind was wandering to a case.” She hated telling the white lie, but what was the alternative? Admitting what? That she might have been jealous that he spent more time talking about his deceased wife than her? “I’ve, um, been away from work for too long and things are starting to pile up.”

“Know the feeling,” he said, using a supersize plastic cup to rinse Flynn. “Which reminds me—what do you think about hiring a nanny? Just for the daytime, but I like the idea of Flynn being at home rather than in a germ-infested day care.”

“For the record,” Olivia said, bristling at the implication that Flynn wasn’t receiving the best of care, “I visited literally dozens of child-care facilities to find just the right one. They’re very particular about parents keeping sick children at home. And when Flynn is home, a grandmotherly type with impeccable references watches him.”

“Is she available?”

“Not full-time. Probably not at all considering she
doesn’t drive farther than a half mile from home.” Arms tightly folded, Olivia said, “And anyway, you’ve got some nerve implying—”

“Whoa. Calm down,” he said, sloshing through the water with Flynn in his arms. “The last thing I wanted was to activate your considerable temper.” Out of the tub, he wrapped Flynn in a giraffe towel, pulling over his head a hood that sported fuzzy horns and ears. Flynn looked beyond adorable, making it impossible for Olivia to maintain her sour mood. “I’m sure Flynn loves his school, but even if he keeps with that during the day, we’re going to need someone reliable for times when we have business dinners or if we’re both traveling. So? Nanny? I took the liberty of having my secretary contact several agencies. If you’ll agree, we’ll start interviewing tomorrow.”

He stood shirtless in tropical-green swim trunks, dripping water all over the bathroom floor. Olivia should’ve handed him a towel, but all she could do was stare. She felt a little breathless. As if the room were running low on air.

“You okay, Liv?” He carefully dried between all of Flynn’s toes. “You look pale.”

“I’m good.”
But your chest is more in the realm of amazing!

“Mind taking this guy for a minute while I dry off?” Tag passed Flynn to Olivia, in the process rubbing his forearms against hers. His coarse hair against her smooth skin shot an erotic jolt through her. One that was as unwelcome as it had been unexpected.

Wordlessly she took their son, averting her gaze while Tag toweled dry.

“What do you say we nuke some popcorn and watch a movie after we get this guy to bed?”

“O-okay,” she said, even though she would rather have retired to the peace of her room. What was wrong with her? Could Steph’s suspicions be true? Ridiculous. No way was she crushing on Flynn’s father. So the more she was around him, the more she was finding him to be a bona fide hunk. Big whoop. Great-looking guys were a dime a dozen, and since she’d already been with one and he’d broken her heart, she wasn’t interested. Holding Flynn extra close, she said, “On second thought, I should probably finish unpacking.”

“You’ve got the rest of our lives to unpack. Tonight let’s play.”

Together they diapered and dressed Flynn in fuzzy pj’s. Tag had just about gotten the knack of not getting his fingers caught in the sticky tabs, which Olivia took as a sign of progress. With their son thoroughly tucked in and kissed and fussed over, they both changed out of their swimsuits in favor of comfy sweats and then went downstairs, baby monitor in hand.

Despite the enormity of Tag’s home, the warm, burnt-orange of the walls and floors combined with expensive but comfortable furniture gave the house an overall cozy feel. The kitchen was every home chef’s dream, with two sinks, two dishwashers and a six-burner stainless steel stove complete with a custom copper vent hood. Granite countertops, a center island and tile backsplashes designed to look like the walls of an archaeologist’s treasure-rich dig blended seamlessly with glowing walnut cabinetry and the floral upholstery of the adjoining living area’s sofa and love seat. Above a towering stone fireplace was yet another portrait of Maria—this one of her in a full-skirted yellow sundress, twirling with her long dark hair streaming and her face tipped toward the sun.

Tag had opened the door to a walk-in pantry, and now stood inside. “I know there’s microwave popcorn in here somewhere.”

Olivia didn’t answer.

Tag’s former wife’s touches were everywhere. Glorious
silk floral arrangements that looked so real Olivia could practically smell them. Persian rugs and quirky lamps combined with crystal chandeliers. Silver-framed photos tucked amongst hundreds of books on built-in walnut shelves.

Maria and Tag skiing.

Maria and Tag hiking.

Maria and Tag smiling, arm in arm, standing before a breathtaking view of Rome.

“Aren’t those great?” Tag asked, stepping up behind her while the popcorn popped merrily in the built-in microwave. “Remind me some time to show you our pics of Bora Bora. The water was so clear, you could sit on the balcony with a mai tai and still feel like you were snorkeling.”

“Mmm.”

“What do you want to drink?” Tag asked, yanking open the stainless steel fridge. “Although, now that you live here, feel free to start helping yourself.”

Was that a hint?

“Olivia?” he prodded. “Drink?”

“Have any chilled merlot?”

While shaking the popcorn from a bag into a bowl, he said, “Through that door, and to the left, there’s a butler’s pantry. Check the wine cooler. Who knows what’s in there. Maria was the civilized one. I’ve always been more of a beer drinker.”

In other words, just as Olivia now resided in a dead
woman’s house, she would also be drinking her wine. “No, thanks. I’ll, ah, just have water.”

“Sure?”

She nodded.

With a beer and a bottled water tucked under his arm and the popcorn bowl in hand, Tag led the way to a back staircase that led down rather than up. “Wait until you see the media room. If I had to spend the rest of my life somewhere, this room would work.”

The wink-and-grin combo he shot over his right shoulder flip-flopped her stomach.

Which made her all the more uneasy.

What was she doing here? Squeezing the baby monitor for all she was worth, she followed Tag into a gamers’ paradise. Pool table, wet bar, wall-mounted flat panel TV, burgundy-leather sectional and three vintage seventies pinball machines. Beyond sliding glass doors was a sunken grotto of sorts with a rock retaining wall drizzled in ivy, plus a steaming hot tub and plenty of patio seating.

“This way,” he said, gesturing toward a faux theater front complete with red velvet ropes and a movie marquee featuring a vintage
Gone with the Wind
poster. After he flipped a light switch, they passed through an arch and into a room with a dozen deeply cushioned recliners set on three graduated risers. The screen at the front of the room was as big as Tag’s Hummer. “Isn’t it awesome? Maria and I must’ve gone to a hundred stores looking for just the right seating.” Gesturing to a wall
of built-in shelves holding hundreds of DVDs, he said, “You pick.”

Staring at the baby monitor, Olivia wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to watch a movie. She wanted to throw herself across her new bed and cry. “I think I’ll pass.”

Tag wrinkled his forehead. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted to watch something? I made popcorn.”

“I know, but…”

“Okay.” He perched on the arm of a recliner. “Out with it. What’s got you in such a funk?”

“Nothing,” she lied, turning to leave the room.

He was faster, reaching out to snare her arm. Her black T-shirt left her arms bare, and his fingertips burned an impression. “I’ve never seen this side of you. All pouty.”

“Pouty?” She tried jerking free, but he held firm. “I scowl and rage and fume, but I never pout.”

Releasing her arm to take hold of her hand, he said, “Something’s obviously on your mind. At the resort you had no trouble letting me have it. What’s changed? What did I do to tick you off?”

Deep-down gut truth? Did she dare tell him? Were her worries even valid, or was she acting more childish than their son?

“Please, Liv.” Giving her hand a squeeze, he said, “Don’t shut me out.”

She forced a deep breath, drawing strength from his
touch. “All right. At the resort—you, me and Flynn—we felt like three amigos. Here, with every other word out of your mouth being something about Maria, I feel like an intruder. Like I’m on the outside of what was supposed to have been the launch of our new family.”

He said nothing. Other than the muscle tic in his jaw, he was stone still. Had her admission angered him?

“I’m sorry, Tag. I thought this—living together—was the perfect solution to sharing Flynn, but…”

“It is.” Stroking the top of her hand with his thumb, he said, “I’m sorry if I in any way made you feel unwelcome.” Though his delivery was stiff, the meaning behind it shone in his glistening eyes. “This house was the culmination of many hours Maria and I spent planning. If I’ve mentioned her an inordinate amount, it’s only because as proud as I am of this place, it was a group project. I want to give credit where credit is due.”

A knot in her throat, Olivia nodded.

“Flynn—you. Both of you I’ve already grown proud of. Please be patient with me, okay?”

“Of course.” The more he stroked her hand, the more he unwittingly hypnotized her. Calm spread through her, plus the certainty that whatever madness had driven her to move in with this man she hardly knew, it was right. This was only her first night in the house. If it was awkward for her, think how Tag must be feeling. As much as he loved Maria, he must never have planned for another woman to live in this home.

“You’re quiet again,” he said, the corners of his lips rising in a half grin. “I’ve learned to take this as a bad sign.”

“I’m good.” She forced a smile. “I just need you to be patient with me, too, okay? This is a huge change in my life, and—”

“I get it.” Pulling her toward him, he pressed the softest of kisses to her forehead. “Trust me. You, me and Flynn—we’re going to be awesome.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Tag called Alice and asked her to cancel all his appointments. The nanny agency he’d contacted the previous afternoon had promised a full array of prospects scheduled to begin arriving at nine.

In the meantime, as a further apology to Olivia for having spoiled her welcome to his home, Tag had already been to the neighborhood grocery, and the kitchen smelled of sizzling bacon, Olivia’s special tea and Pillsbury cherry turnovers that had been like a doughy puzzle to assemble. Would his peace offering get him out of the proverbial doghouse? He sure as hell hoped so, because Olivia was much more fun when she wasn’t mad at him.

Fifteen minutes later he’d unearthed a silver serving tray from the butler’s pantry, washed off the dust and assembled Olivia’s meal.

He took the stairs two at a time. Since there was no sound coming from her room, he assumed she and
Flynn were still asleep. Balancing the tray in one hand, he quietly opened the door with his other.

“Tag!”

Olivia’s screech caught him so off guard that he damn near dumped her breakfast. “Lord, woman,” he said, setting the tray on the foot of her bed. “You trying to do me in?”

“Did it ever occur to you to knock?” Already in a white T-shirt, she tugged at green sweat-suit bottoms, but not fast enough to prevent him from getting an eyeful. Her silver thong wasn’t remotely maternal, reminding him that no matter how hard he tried thinking of her as being nothing more than his son’s mother, in reality, Olivia was starting to be much more.

“Oh.”
Heat rose in his face. He’d tried the gentleman thing by averting his gaze, but the image of her sweetly rounded derriere had been seared into his brain. “I, ah, made you breakfast in bed, but it looks like you’re already up, huh?”

Grinning and shaking her head, she said, “You sound like a fourth grader who accidentally walked into the girls’ bathroom. It’s all right, Tag. Living together like we do, a situation like this was bound to happen.”

“Yeah, but…” And since he didn’t have much else to say other than the fact that he felt like a fourth grader, he laughed. Damn, but she’d looked hot without pants. “Okay, so you got me. Anyway, when you’re ready, here’s something to eat.”

“Thanks. It smells delicious.”

“As opposed to the establishments you pick out,” he teased, “I go first class.”

“Ha-ha.” Gazing down at Flynn in his crib, smoothing his wild hair, she said, “Rolling Rock wasn’t that bad.”

“You didn’t eat the meat loaf.” Though the banter was lighthearted, Tag had the strangest pang in his chest. An odd craving had begun right around the time he’d seen Liv smile. Yes, her body was smoking hot, but beyond that, he was growing perilously attracted to every part of her. Not good. He wasn’t in the market for a fling.

She scooped Flynn into her arms, careful not to upend the breakfast tray, and sat at the head of the bed. “Before I eat, this guy needs to be fed.”

Looking away, he asked, “Want me to leave?”

“Actually, it’s nice having company. During my breast-feeding classes, all the videos showed the attentive husband hovering, ready to grant his wife’s every need. Going through all of this on my own has been bittersweet.”

“I can imagine. There are a lot of firsts I would have liked to share. Was your delivery tough?”

“Indescribable.” Her expression clouded. “After fifteen hours of labor, I had an emergency C-section. I had a friend with me, but even after Flynn was born, it took a while to feel up to my normal speed.”

Longing washed through him. Flynn was his child. Tag would’ve liked to have been there for Liv. He sat hard on one of a pair of floral upholstered wing chairs.

“Now that this angel’s here, though, I’d go through it again in a heartbeat.”

With the only sound breaking the room’s heavy silence being his son’s occasional soft suckle, Tag asked, “Do you ever feel resentment toward me?”

“Initially,” she admitted, “when I thought you were out to take Flynn from me.”

“I get that.” He leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m talking about my not being there during your pregnancy. It had to be tough. Going it alone.”

She looked down, stroking Flynn’s cheek. “It was. But I made the choice. I knew from the start that was the way it had to be.”

“Yes, but does it anger you that it didn’t
have
to be? I mean, all along I’ve been right here, Liv. Do you ever wish that quack lab would’ve let us in on this snafu in your first trimester?”

“As I’ve already explained, Tag, I didn’t want a man in my life. That’s why I opted for artificial insemination. You’re acting as if we were a couple and you feel guilty that you couldn’t be with me, but you and I both know that’s just not how it was.”

True. So why now was a part of him wishing that was how it could have been?

T
AG AND
O
LIVIA SHARED
the living-room sofa.

Part-time nanny candidate number six had centered herself on the love seat. Her nose ring featured a
dangling pink Hello Kitty charm. Otherwise, she was all business in a formfitting black business suit and red tie that matched the red streak in her long, otherwise black hair.

Leaning in close to Olivia, Tag whispered, “Tell me again why your Mrs. Troyer won’t just move in with us?”

“Could you at least try behaving?” Olivia elbowed Tag hard to his ribs. Clearing her throat, she asked nineteen-year-old Tabitha, “What makes you qualified for this job?”

“I graduated a year early from high school with honors, and am currently a junior in premed at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock. I eventually plan to specialize in pediatrics, but until then I like to spend as much time as possible with toddlers and infants. I’m the recipient of numerous prestigious scholarships, a member of Mensa and have excellent references—including one from the chief of staff at St. Vincent hospital.”

Wow
. Olivia elbowed Tag again, this time for a happy reason. “Tabitha, thank you so much for coming. Please leave your reference sheet, and I have a feeling we’ll be calling you soon.”