Hard to Hold (6 page)

The bottle machine buzzed.

The sound startled them both and acted like a wake-up call. Isabella pulled quickly away, busying herself by fetching the heated formula. If not for the way she refused to meet his eyes, he would've thought he had imagined her response.

But he hadn't
.

Frustration filled him as he recognized the futility of it all.

He had to have this woman.

Yet he absolutely couldn't. She was his nanny, his employee taking care of Desiree's baby.

His fucking lifeline.

She started to brush past him, once more all business, but he was blocking the way. One brow raised and she gave him a look that could have frozen the Sahara. “Do you mind?”

Out of frustration, he took a parting shot even as he moved a few feet away. “Works for me. This place is over two thousand square feet. I think we can avoid tripping over each other.”

“Agree. And by the way? My name is
Isabella
.”

Something about the way she spoke to him got under his skin. “Okay. But don't go looking at me like I'm the bastard. You were the one who started this.”

“Started what?” She glared at him.

“You made me dinner,” he pointed out. “Waited up until I came home, dressed in your cute little PJs. And you're the one who touched me.”

“I was just trying to be nice!”

The softness that had been in her eyes was gone, replaced by shards of green ice, like a broken Heineken bottle. He had to hold back a smile. Damn, but she looked cute when she was mad.

“And I'm just trying to set the record straight,” he continued with a shrug. “You want distance? No problem at all. You'll get plenty.”

“Fine,” she shot back, not bothering to look over her shoulder as she left.

He distinctly thought he heard her say “
Asshole.
”

He couldn't blame her. But better that she be pissed than nice.

Pissed he could deal with.

It was the nice that threatened to do him in.

Isabella was furious. For Logan to assume that she was trying to put a move on him just because she'd made dinner was beyond conceit. She had to stop herself from slamming the door and letting him know just how angry she was.

Asshole,
indeed.

Yet the sight of Cinnamon calmed her immediately. The little copper-haired infant smiled when she spotted her, her hands and feet wiggling in the air. Scooping the baby into her arms, she cooed to her as she offered up the bottle. Cinnamon sucked the nipple hungrily as Isabella settled into the rocking chair, and her thoughts returned to the soccer player in the next room.

Well, okay,
she thought as her anger cooled. She could see how he might have misread her intentions. If she had to admit the truth to herself, he was smoking hot
.
She'd have to be blind not to notice his obvious masculinity, that fit body, and those dazzling blue eyes
.

There was nothing wrong with her vision close up.

In addition to his obvious physical attributes, there was something about his pain and confusion that touched her, especially coupled with his desire to do the right thing. There was a heart beneath that gorgeous exterior, something she didn't need to know.

And for a toe-curling minute, she thought that he was going to kiss her…

If he had, God help her, she wasn't at all sure she would have stopped him.

Damn. What was going on here? Was he right? Did she have an ulterior motive behind the dinner?

No, she hadn't consciously planned it that way. When she'd made the dish earlier in the day, there was enough left to share. Normally she would be working for a family who made their own meals, but since Logan lived alone, she thought he might appreciate a home-cooked dinner.

She wouldn't make that mistake again
.

She was a professional; it wasn't in her makeup to fool around with her employer. And this situation involved more than just the two of them. She glanced down at the baby in her arms.

Cinnamon needed her.

Needed them.

As if hearing her thoughts, Cinnamon broke away from the nipple to give her a big grin. Isabella smiled back, her heart swelling. Yes, this child needed a man like Logan in her life as a dad.

Especially with a mother who didn't seem to give a damn about her.

Logan's heart sunk as the opposing team kicked in a goal a few days later. They had been tied at one, and he thought the Hurricanes more than capable of winning. Instead, they let the opposing team score.

Worse, some of the players seemed to give up even though there were still ten minutes left in the game. Logan kept looking to the midfielders, waiting for a pass, but nothing. He and Sergio exchanged pissed-off glances when Jorge Rodriguez let a ball slip right by him and Florida took control.

Even the defenders seemed lackadaisical, as if taking a loss for granted. So Logan wasn't at all surprised when the coach appeared in the locker room, mad as hell.

“What the fuck do you call that out there?”

A couple of the guys looked annoyed, especially the few who had made a real effort. But most were defensive.

“I don't ever want to see a performance like that again. We're never going to make it to the playoffs if this shit continues. We have a talented team. And I know we had some new players join us this summer, and it takes some time for the team to gel. We've got Logan back, Sergio front and center. But those guys can't do a damn thing if no one passes the ball.”

Logan heard one of the defenders grumble beneath his breath, but the coach was all over it.

“If anyone has anything to say, I'm right here. I would love to hear an explanation. If this was an isolated incident, that would be one thing. But we've lost two games in a row now, which means we have to kick it up. We owe it to ourselves, and we owe it to our fans. The difference between the team who wins and the one who loses is often that extra effort.”

He stormed out, and a lot of the players began bitching and moaning behind his back.

“He's such an asshole,” Ryan McCulloch said in disgust.

“He's got a point,” Sergio admitted. “I do think a lot of guys gave up today.”

“With ten minutes left, do you really think we could've won?”

“Yeah, I do. But not with this fucking team.” Sergio flung a towel over his shoulder and headed for the showers, obviously deciding it wasn't worth the argument.

Ryan looked to Logan for support. “Do you agree with him?”

Logan shrugged. “Yes. And I'll tell you something else. The team I just left in Italy wouldn't have tolerated this for a goddamn second. For us to have a shot, we have to get a lot more aggressive. And that means everybody.”

The room grew quiet. Sergio and Logan weren't coaches or outsiders. They were part of the team, and both of them were well respected. For them to call out their fellow players meant something.

But Logan didn't give a shit. He was used to being the star, a loner, not relying much on his team. He left the room, letting the players continue their grumbling.
Fucking sissies
. He had enough on his mind without this aggravation.

They were going on the road to New York next week, and Isabella intended to join him with the baby. It was close enough to where he lived that they could drive together, which would cut down on the commentary from his teammates. She'd made the arrangements and planned to contact the hotel to make sure they had a portable crib for Cinnamon and adjoining rooms.

Interesting. Her caution spoke volumes. She was going out of her way to make damn sure that they weren't sequestered together in close proximity.

Why?
Not that he wasn't relieved by her choice, but he found it intriguing. Was she afraid to be alone with him? He'd made it clear the other night that he would respect her wishes, and backed off as soon as she gave him the signal.

So who was she concerned about, herself or him?

Though he didn't want to, he recalled for the thousandth time the look in her eyes when he moved to kiss her. He knew when a woman wanted him, and in that moment his desire was fully reciprocated.

But a personal relationship would fuck everything up, and they both knew that. So he was grateful for her planning and the distance she was deliberately putting between them.

A few more weeks.

The next few nights…

Thankfully, all was quiet when he got home Sunday morning. As he made his way to his room, intending to grab a shower and then hit the gym, he saw that the door to the baby's room was ajar. He gave in to the temptation and looked inside.

The furniture had arrived, and Logan saw that Isabella had arranged everything. The crib stood in the corner, the mobile dancing overhead. Against the wall was the dressing table, and he could see a couple of disposable diapers and a box of wipes placed strategically on top. A matching bureau stood beside it, and all the clothing that was on the floor was gone, presumably inside the drawers.

She had hung curtains, and he saw that the yellow print matched a comforter that had been folded over the back of the rocking chair. And a teddy bear waited on another chair in the corner for the day that Cinnamon was big enough to play.

A teddy bear.

It was a nursery
.

Something about that stunned him. This wasn't makeshift, convert an office into temporary sleeping quarters, with a cheap bassinette and a few essentials stacked in boxes.

This was a real baby's room, designed to provide function now with space to grow.

A thousand emotions hit him at once.

Pride.

Joy.

Uncertainty.

Fear.

He'd always assumed that one day he'd meet the right girl and have a family. But what if he had skipped right over the wedding part and was now a single dad? What if he didn't have years to mentally prepare for the responsibility of fatherhood?

Of a
daughter
?

He remembered Jessica as a little kid, and all the things his parents did with her. Bedtime stories. Baths. Blowing bubbles in the backyard. Chasing fireflies. Teaching her to brush her teeth. And then came school, backpacks with new pencils. Bicycles and hopscotch, finger paint and chalkboards. Doctors and dentists, shots and checkups.

He wasn't sure he could handle it. Yet as he gazed at the charming nursery plunked in the middle of his masculine condominium, he knew Isabella had done the right thing.

The baby needed this. And as long as Cinnamon was here, he might as well make her comfortable.

He wouldn't think any further than that. Not yet. Like Isabella had said, he would take each day one step at a time and let things unfold however they were fated.

He had no other choice.

Isabella woke up early to feed Cinnamon a few days later. As soon as she was burped, she put her back in the crib and cranked the mobile, letting her enjoy the bright colors and music while she packed for the trip.

She consulted her list as she assembled everything:

Bottles.

Diapers.

Wipes.

Nightgowns.

Undershirts.

Shoes and booties.

A couple of outfits.

In addition were all the other mundane things that went with the baby, like a thermometer, pacifier, bibs, blankets…

By the time she was finished, she had a diaper bag fully packed, along with a small suitcase. She had to smile at that.

Cinnamon needed more stuff for the trip than she did.

But that's what it was like to travel with a baby; she had enough experience to know. At least Cinnamon wouldn't need a portable playpen.

Yet. But those days were coming very soon…

A funny sound brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to hear the baby chuckle.

Cinnamon had lifted her little legs and was kicking them in the air, giggling at her toes!

Isabella stopped what she was doing and just enjoyed the moment. That had to be absolutely her most favorite sound in the world, that deep belly laugh of a young baby.

She was still smiling when Logan entered the room, startling her. She'd deliberately stayed out of his way the past few days after that moment in the kitchen. Thankfully, he'd been gone most of the weekend with his game in Florida, and they hadn't crossed paths much since he came home.

Now she wasn't sure if it would be awkward between them, but he acted as if nothing had happened.

Fine by me.

“Wanted to see if you needed any help,” Logan remarked, leaning over the crib to wiggle his fingers at the baby.

“I think I've got everything.” She indicated the bags, neatly packed and waiting by the door. But she was surprised at his thoughtfulness and his willingness to get onboard with her plan. Maybe she could teach an old dog.

As if in on the plot, Cinnamon broke into another round of chuckles, waving her feet in the air as if she couldn't wait to share this new discovery with her dad.

“Did you hear that?” Logan glanced over his shoulder at her in amazement. A huge grin broke out on his face as his gaze returned to the baby. “She's laughing!”

“Yes. Isn't it great? I love it when they do that. It never fails to make me smile.”

She came to stand beside him as little Cinnamon, oblivious to the attention, successfully captured her right foot in her hands, and another welling of merriment followed.

“No shit! She thinks her feet are funny!” Logan looked at Isabella, shaking his head in amusement.

“You never know what's going to bring it on,” Isabella said, melting at the sight of the ruggedly handsome soccer player turning into a big pile of mush. “The first time I heard it, a baby I was caring for giggled at the dogs playing catch. Since then, I've discovered it could be anything. A leaf blowing. A funny picture. A sibling. But it's always the best.”

“You're right.” Logan grinned. “This is pretty damn cool.”

He turned back to the baby, grabbed her ankle and wiggled her foot, trying to get her to laugh again. When that didn't work, he tried making goofy faces while Cinnamon watched him in delight.

He was utterly adorable. Isabella could almost hear her heart throb.
Don't get attached,
she warned herself. She was this man's employee, hired to take care of his baby. The last thing she needed was to develop feelings for him.

Especially since there was already a physical attraction that she was trying desperately to ignore…

Yet it was hard not to acknowledge the tenderness inside her as he played with his daughter.

This Logan would be hard to resist if he tried to kiss her again…

Cinnamon turned her attention back to the mobile, and Logan cranked it for her once more.

“We leave in an hour if that's okay,” he said, looking up from the crib. His eyes met hers and she turned quickly away, not wanting him to see what she had been feeling.

And wanting…

“Works for me,” she replied in a businesslike manner. It wouldn't do at all for him to figure out that she thought this side of him was irresistible.

He started to leave, and then stopped at the door. “By the way, you did a great job with this room.”

“You think so?” She sighed with relief as she gestured to the furnishings. “I tried not to make it too girly. We can change anything you don't like—”

“Nope. It's perfect. And thanks. You were right about this. She needed a real space, like any other baby.”

Her mouth fell open as he turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

Had he really just thanked her for spending his money, for doing something that he'd previously thought unnecessary and extravagant? Did it mean that he was finally beginning to accept the situation?

To accept the child? And her?

She didn't know for sure, but her heart felt lighter. Maybe it was just a baby step, but it was an important one all the same. And for all the trepidation she'd felt about the upcoming trip, maybe it would be okay.

Maybe Logan and Cinnamon could learn to be a family.

The road trip wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Logan assumed his 'Vette wouldn't accommodate them all, so he rented an SUV. Isabella had offered her car, but he didn't want to put the additional miles on her vehicle. But it all worked out. The SUV rode better than he would have thought and had plenty of room for Cinnamon's things.

In fact, if he had to be perfectly honest, it was turning out to be kind of cool. Isabella looked fucking incredible, dressed in a little blue-and-white-striped sundress and sandals. She let that blond hair fall loose around her shoulders for a change, and it fell like pale silk. The only problem was she wore a shade of red lipstick that made him want to kiss the hell out of her.

But he was able to restrain himself and to simply appreciate her company. Normally when traveling with the team for a local game, they were bused from Cherry Hill to New York, Washington, or Baltimore. They'd bring a cooler of beers, plenty of pretzels and other snacks, and they'd watch videos to help pass the time. But over the years, Logan discovered he wasn't crazy about road trips. Some of his peers weren't too diligent about personal hygiene, and more than once he had to crack his window to keep from smelling his neighbor.

And there were always a couple of guys who got out of control, like Jorge Rodriguez, who actually boarded the bus dressed in his boxer shorts. Apparently he'd had a late night out on the town, raced out of the house in what he had on, and saw nothing wrong with traveling in his underwear.

It was also difficult being in close proximity to some of the players who were arrogant jerks. Logan was pretty laid-back, but listening to some of these major league assholes for hours at a time threatened his patience.

So he was finding this excursion very different. It was actually…pleasant.

When they lost the local radio channels, he turned to Isabella. “Okay with you if I sync my iPod? I have a lot of classic rock.”

“Perfect,” she said, sinking back into her seat with a smile. “My fave. I hope you have Dylan.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

He started the music, pleased to see that she was singing along. He didn't know too many women who appreciated music from the sixties and seventies, but Isabella was obviously one of them.

Cinnamon had fallen asleep almost immediately. Logan glanced in the rearview mirror to check on her. “Looks like someone is MIA.”

“That happens a lot,” she said. “Sometimes I used to do this with a child that was really colicky. I would put the infant in the car seat, and drive around the block a few times. It worked like magic. I don't know if it's the motion or what, but they almost always went right out.”

“Seems like you've learned a lot about kids,” Logan commented as they navigated the New Jersey Turnpike. The congestion around exit eight was always a bitch, and sure enough, traffic slowed to a crawl. He glanced sideways and saw Isabella quickly look away.

Damn. Had she been staring at him?

“So did you grow up around here?” Logan cleared his throat, struggling for normalcy. He really did want to know more about her; this woman intrigued him on a million levels.

“Actually, yes. In New Jersey. And you?”

“Me too. But from the time I was a teenager, I lived all over the place. Europe. Italy. England.”

“I can't even imagine,” Isabella said.

“Yeah. But some of it was cool. I really liked it that I was the only Hart interested in soccer. It made me feel different, special. And I liked the travel, seeing the way the rest of the world treats the players like fucking royalty. I knew then, that's what I wanted.”

“That's so cool to have had that experience, to know what you wanted so young.”

There was something in her voice…“So I gotta ask. How come you aren't married and having a dozen kids of your own?”

He'd wondered about that. A woman as good looking as her? Guys would be all over that shit. But he saw her stiffen and realized that he had stumbled upon something painful.

“I guess…it just wasn't in the cards for me.”

Her tone forestalled any further conversation on the topic, but Logan couldn't help but wonder what she meant. Was it a bad breakup?

But before he could comment, she beat him to it.

“Look, no offense,” she said firmly. “But I am your nanny. I plan to work with you and the baby, teach you what you need to know, and help this little girl get a good start in life. But I think where you and I are concerned, the less personally involved, the better.”

He felt like he had been slapped.
What the fuck?
It's not like he hit on her or anything. They had to spend a lot of time together. Didn't it make sense for them to know something about each other? About their families, their histories?

Apparently, she didn't think so. Somehow he had fucked up, and he wasn't sure why. Most females were insulted if he didn't take the time to get to know them, if he just took their services for granted. But Isabella seemed to feel the exact opposite.

He wasn't pissed as much as frustrated. He felt like he was speaking to someone in fucking French when they spoke Spanish.

So he was almost relieved when Janis Joplin's “Piece of My Heart” came on, and Isabella broke into song.

Logan was jolted down to his toes. It wasn't just that she looked so stunningly gorgeous. It wasn't even the way she mood-shifted, going from friendly to icy in the space of a few seconds. But something about the way she was singing reached inside him and grabbed his heart, gave it a hard tug.

No woman belted out lyrics like that without having walked that road.

Who had hurt her?

And why did he suddenly want to kill the guy?