Buch lesen: «For Baby's Sake»

For Stacy Boyd, editor extraordinaire! She has been with the Kavanaghs from the beginning and loves them (almost) as much as I do.

Stacy juggles a beautiful family and a demanding career with grace and professionalism.

Here’s to many more books together.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Extract

Copyright

One

James Kavanagh liked working with his hands. Unlike his oldest brother, Liam, who spent his days wearing an Italian tailored suit, James was most comfortable in old jeans and T-shirts. Truth be told, it was a good disguise. No one expected a rich man to look like a guy who labored for a paycheck.

That was fine with James. He didn’t need people sucking up to him because he was a Kavanagh. He wanted to be judged on his own merits. Sure, he was entitled to a share of the family fortune. And yes, he’d added to that considerable pot with his own endeavors.

But at the end of the day, a man was only as rich as his reputation.

At the moment, James was painting the soffits on his own house in the heart of Silver Glen, North Carolina. The 1920s bungalow was a beauty; original hardwood floors, large windows that let in plenty of light and a front porch that was made for enjoying warm summer evenings.

Of course, summer was little more than a memory now. Before long, it would be time to put up the Christmas lights. When he’d thought about tackling that chore, he realized he had some peeling paint that needed attention. Such was the life of a carpenter. He poured most of his man-hours into renovating other people’s homes. His own place came way down the list.

As he dipped his paintbrush in the can balanced precariously on the top of the ladder, something disturbed his concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the house next door. Lila’s house. A house he once knew all too well.

It didn’t matter. He was over her. Completely. The two of them had been a fire that burned hot and bright, leaving only ashes. It was for the best. Lila was too uptight, too driven, too everything.

Still, something was going on. Lila’s silver Subaru was parked in its usual spot in the concrete driveway. But it was far too early for her to be arriving home from work. He gave up the pretense of painting and watched as she got out of the car.

She was tall and curvy and had long blond curls that no amount of hair spray could tame. Lila had the body of a pinup girl and the brains of an accountant—a lethal combo. Then came his second clue that things were out of kilter. Lila was wearing jeans and a Windbreaker. On a Monday.

He could have ignored all of that. Honestly, he was fine with the status quo. Lila had her job as vice president of the local bank, and James had the pleasure of dating women who were uncomplicated. Not bimbos. He had his standards, after all. There was nothing wrong, though, with a guy having fun.

Did it matter if his most recent girlfriend thought Kazakhstan was a new heavy metal band? Not every woman had to be a rocket scientist.

As he watched, Lila closed the driver’s door and opened the door to the backseat. Leaning in, she gave him a tantalizing view of a nicely rounded ass. He’d always had a thing for butts. Lila’s was first-class.

Suddenly, all thoughts of butts and sex and his long-ago love affair with his frustrating neighbor flew out the window. Because when Lila straightened, she was holding a baby.

* * *

Lila had a blistering headache. It didn’t help that James Kavanagh was watching her every move. He didn’t even try to hide his interest. Sometimes she thought he deliberately worked outside so she could see his gorgeous body and obsess about everything she had lost.

Today she didn’t care. Today she was in deep doo-doo. The humor in that comparison barely even registered.

Grabbing Sybbie’s little body in a death grip so the squirmy infant wouldn’t slide though her arms, Lila marched across the yard. At the base of James’s ladder, she paused and stared up at him. “I need help,” she said bluntly. “Will you come down so we can talk?”

If he agreed, it would be the first time in almost three years that the two of them had carried on more of a conversation than “nice day” or “your mail’s on the porch.” They tolerated each other. Politely. Which was not an easy thing to do when you had seen a man naked.

She closed that door firmly. “James?”

He appeared to be frozen. Suddenly, he dropped his paintbrush in the bucket and wiped his hands. “Of course.”

As he descended the ladder, she was forced to back up. James was a big guy. Not fat. Oh, no. Not an ounce of spare flab anywhere on his six-foot-three-inch body. His brothers called him the gentle giant. It was an apt description.

James had the physique of a man who could break boulders with his bare hands. Muscular, broad-shouldered and impressively strong, he was a man’s man. He also happened to be incredibly tender when making love to a woman who was half his size, but that was information from another time, another place, another Lila.

He stared at the baby, his expression inscrutable. “What’s up, Lila? Who’s this little charmer?” His thick, wavy, chestnut hair was overdue for a trim.

“Her name is Sybbie. My half sister died. She and her boyfriend. In a car accident.” It was still difficult to talk about, still impossible to believe.

“God, honey. I’m so sorry.”

She swallowed hard, almost undone by the genuine sympathy and concern in his rich brown eyes and deep voice. “I hadn’t seen her in a decade. She didn’t like me very much. But for some reason, she named me in her will as the baby’s guardian. Sybbie is almost eight months old.”

James’s intense scrutiny made her nervous. “And you accepted?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the short term. There may be other options. But for now, I have her.”

“I see.” She felt his doubt almost tangibly. James knew her feelings about children. It was part of the reason they had split up. “So, why do you need to talk to me?”

“My house needs some modifications.”

“For a short-term situation?”

“I am a responsible adult. I won’t endanger a baby simply because it inconveniences me. My bedroom is on the top floor. I want to turn the dining room into a nursery, and I’ll move into the downstairs bedroom.”

“Makes sense.”

His grudging approval eased some of the tightness in her chest. “Do you have time in your schedule to do what needs to be done?” James bought houses and flipped them. His work was meticulous. Many of the finest homes in the historic district had been restored by James.

“I’ll have to juggle some things, but I think I can make it work. Who’s going to keep the kid?”

It was a fair question and an obvious one. The only fully licensed child care center in Silver Glen took babies when they were twelve months or older. “I’ve used my paid time off for bereavement and more than a week of my two-week vacation, counting today. But I have four days left.”

“Four days? What about maternity leave?” His raised eyebrow made her feel guilty for no good reason.

“That will only kick in if I actually adopt Sybbie. The auditors will be here next Monday. I can’t miss that. I’ll figure out something.”

James stared at her. She refused to fidget. Working in the upper echelons of a profession traditionally dominated by men had taught her to look unshakeable even when she was nervous on the inside.

When he still didn’t speak, she snapped at him. “What?”

James’s shoulders lifted and fell in a deep sigh. “Caring for an eight-month-old is a lot of work.” He wasn’t merely tossing out platitudes. All six of his brothers were married, and most of them had kids. The youngest Kavanagh sibling was a beloved uncle. She had seen that with her own two eyes...a hundred years ago when she had been James’s girlfriend for a tempestuous three months.

He was right to have doubts about her. But at the moment, she didn’t see any other options. “I know that,” she said quietly, refusing to be hurt by his unspoken assessment of her nurturing talents. “I’m not afraid of hard work. Will you come next door with me and let me show you what I’m thinking?”

“Sure.”

He strode beside her as they crossed from his handkerchief-sized lawn to hers. The next embarrassing moment was not being able to unlock the front door while holding the baby.

James took the little girl without asking. At last the stupid key turned and they were able to go inside. The house hadn’t changed at all since the last time James was here. But he didn’t utter a single comment to make her uncomfortable. An observer would have noticed nothing in his demeanor to suggest that he and Lila had once made love leaning over the sturdy, oak dining room table.

Her cheeks heated. “Through here,” she muttered.

Sybbie seemed enamored with the new man in her life. She was a quiet, easy child, her temperament sunny unless she was tired or hungry.

Lila stopped in the kitchen doorway. “I don’t really need a dining room, anyway. I never use it. After Sybbie is gone, the nursery could always be turned into a small den or a sitting room for the guest room.”

James rubbed the baby’s downy head. She had hair that was white-blond, her pink cheeks completing the look of a chubby angel. “How long will that be, Lila? Do you even know?”

“I told you. I’m not sure.” And there was the rub. Because for Lila to function at maximum capacity, she really needed to be sure. About everything. Uncertainty drove her nuts. Since the moment she’d received the heart-wrenching phone call about her sister’s death, life had been nothing but uncertainty.

James took a step away, allowing her to breathe normally. He examined load-bearing walls, scribbled a few measurements on a scrap of paper and paced off the dimensions of the dining room. All the while holding the baby as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

At last, he turned. “Shouldn’t be a problem. But you and Sybbie will need to move over to my place for a couple of nights. When I’m sledgehammering walls, it won’t be safe for you or the baby to breathe the air.”

“What about you?”

“I wear a mask when I’m doing demolition.”

“I’m sure I could go to a hotel for a few nights.” The thought of sleeping under James’s roof again gave her hives.

His scowl told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of the hotel idea. That had been one of their problems actually. James had a maddening habit of telling people what to do. The two of them had butted heads over the issue time and again.

“Be reasonable, Lila,” he said, clearly trying for a conciliatory tone. “A hotel is no place for a baby. I have a refrigerator for formula and everything you could possibly need, save a baby bed. But you were going to have to buy that, anyway.”

What he said made perfect sense. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. “James, um...well, considering our past...it would be—”

He held up his hand, his expression grim. “Let me stop you right there. The past is the past, Lila. You and I were a bad match from the beginning. But we both know that now. You’re a neighbor and a friend. That’s all. What happened three years ago has nothing to do with this.”

Her stomach curled. That was easy for him to say. James had moved on. And he hadn’t wasted any time. She’d seen him with a parade of women, each one more beautiful than the last. It wasn’t James’s feelings she was worried about. It was her own.

James Kavanagh had no interest in bedding her again. That was clear. But she still had feelings for him, even if most of those feelings were hormones. It would be incredibly foolhardy to put herself in his path. She had Sybbie to think of now. She couldn’t afford more heartbreak.

The trouble was, she was fresh out of options. James’s suggestion made perfect sense. But she didn’t have to like it. “Fine,” she said, trying not to sound huffy. “We’ll take you up on your kind invitation.”

His nod was terse. “Not tonight. I have a project I promised to finish up in the morning. But I’ll help you move tomorrow evening. You can have the baby bed delivered to my house.”

“James Kavanagh. You know I can’t do that. Gossip spreads faster than kudzu around here.”

He shrugged. “So what? I think my reputation can handle it. Are you worried about your fancy bank job?”

His smart-ass tone made her see red. “You always hated my job, didn’t you?”

He leaned against the door frame, his dark-eyed gaze unreadable. “I never hated the job, Lila. I merely hated the fact that it consumed you. There’s more to life than work.”

“Says the man with a trust fund. Some of us need a little security.”

The sudden silence mushroomed between them. Here they were, three full years after the nuclear detonation of their relationship, still fighting the same tired battle.

James shook his head. “I didn’t mean to go there. I’m sorry.”

“Me, either. Maybe this will work better if we pretend we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I’m that good of an actor, but I’ll try. What if you order the baby bed tomorrow morning, and I’ll pick it up after work?”

“And tonight?”

“You can keep her upstairs with you for one night. You have a king-size bed...right?”

“Yes.” He knew full well that she did, damn it. They had certainly made use of the big mattress and the spindled headboard.

“Put Sybbie in with you and tuck the covers as tightly as you can under the mattress. That way she won’t be able to roll out.”

“Okay. You’re right. That will be fine.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. Sybbie was almost asleep, her tiny eyelids drooping. “Is that all?” James asked. “I need to get back to work.”

Lila flushed. She had asked him to treat her like a virtual stranger. But she hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. “Of course,” she said brightly. “Let me take her from you.”

James seemed almost reluctant to give up the little girl. Maybe he thought Lila wasn’t capable of being a competent caregiver. When the baby passed from him to her, James’s fingers brushed Lila’s breasts. It was a simple contact. Unavoidable. Fleeting at best.

Even so, her body’s instinctive reaction told her the next few weeks were going to be a challenge. She’d gotten over James Kavanagh once. She didn’t have it in her to do it again.

Two

James got out of bed, thirsty, at 3:00 a.m. As he stood in the bathroom and downed a glass of water, it was impossible to ignore the fact that a light burned in Lila’s upstairs bedroom window. Hell. The baby must be awake.

It wasn’t any of his business. It wasn’t his concern.

He could give himself all the lectures in the world, but it wasn’t going to change the facts. Lila was in trouble, and he needed to fix things.

Wasn’t this the theme of one of their many fights? She was a grown woman who wanted to take care of herself.

But tonight was different. Being a new parent was hard and scary for almost everyone. Especially a woman with a kid who wasn’t even her own...a child who had been thrust willy-nilly into the middle of Lila’s perfectly manicured life.

Cursing beneath his breath, he pulled on a pair of pants and shoved his feet into leather slippers. It was in the thirties outside. He found a clean button-up shirt and threw his leather jacket on over it.

Then he stopped, stymied by how to get past this next hurdle. If he rang the doorbell at this ungodly hour, he might scare Lila to death. Even worse, if the baby was finally on the verge of sleep. Lila would string him up by his toes if he woke little Sybbie.

There really was only one logical choice. He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts. He didn’t want to admit he still had Lila’s phone number. It wasn’t a thing. He’d just never gotten around to deleting it.

Quickly, he typed a text:

I see your light on. Would you like me to come hold the baby so you can sleep for a few hours? I was up anyway.

He leaned against the wall beside the window, looking for a reaction. Nothing happened. It was possible that Lila had left her phone downstairs. Or maybe it was turned off. Damn.

Suddenly, his phone dinged.

Yes! Please. I suck at this.

He laughed out loud. That was one thing he’d always loved about Lila, her sense of humor. He ran down the stairs and out the side door, oddly unconcerned that it was the middle of the night. He didn’t require a lot of sleep, anyway. Helping out with little Sybbie wouldn’t be a hardship.

On Lila’s porch, he paused, but she was at the door ready to let him in. When he saw her, he had to hold back a chuckle. She was undeniably disheveled. She had tried to put her hair up in a ponytail, but the baby must have grabbed it, because one whole side was falling down.

On her T-shirt he saw what might have been a mixture of baby food and drool. He cocked his head and smiled. “Tough day at the office, dear?”

Lila bristled. “Don’t make fun of me, James Buchanan Kavanagh. I might have to shoot you in cold blood, and then what would poor Sybbie do? Her aunt in prison and her only babysitter deader than dead.”

He raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Message received. Show me where the cable remote is and go to bed. Little Princess and I will be fine.”

Lila hesitated. “Seriously, James? This isn’t your problem. You have to work tomorrow.”

“So do you,” he said firmly. “And it’s a good bet that juggling Sybbie for twelve hours will be a heckuva lot harder than sitting behind your desk all day.”

“Is that a criticism?” She was tired, but not too tired to give him grief.

“Only an observation.” He took the baby from her. “I can find the remote on my own. Go. You’re about to fall over.”

Her gorgeous blue eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, James.”

Lila was not the crying type. Tomorrow it would piss her off that he had seen her at such a vulnerable point. But there was nothing he could do about that. “It’s not a big deal, Lila. Get some sleep.”

The fact that she obeyed him without further protest told him she was at the end of her rope. This was only her first week as a mom. How was she going to manage?

Shaking off his disquiet, he concentrated on the little girl who nestled so trustingly in his arms. She was tired. Anybody could see that. Maybe it was the new surroundings that had her out of sorts. Poor kid wouldn’t understand why her parents weren’t around...or why she wasn’t in her familiar bedroom.

“Come on, little Sybbie. Let’s see what Aunt Lila has on late-night cable.”

Seeing the soft, high-end leather sofa gave him a weird vibe. He and Lila had spent many a night cuddling on that particular piece of furniture. Nothing good would come of dwelling on those memories. It would only make him horny, and tonight he had better things to do than rehash old love affairs.

By the time he settled into the soft cushions, dimmed the lights and wrapped an afghan around the baby, little Sybbie was yawning. He rubbed her back and sang to her softly about small spiders and babies rocking in trees. She smelled good...like babies were supposed to smell.

He was struck by a bolt of sadness that made no sense. Everything in his life was going great. It was true he envied his brothers and their growing families, but he was young. He had plenty of time to find the kind of woman his siblings had found. Then it would be time for him to do the whole slippers-by-the-fire thing. Making sure Sybbie was secure against his chest, he yawned and closed his eyes. The baby was asleep already. He would catch a few z’s before she woke up again. That’s what all the baby experts said. Sleep when the baby sleeps...

* * *

Lila fell into bed and was dead to the world in seconds. An hour later, though, she sat straight up, her heart racing in a panicked rhythm. Sybbie. Where was she?

Everything came crashing back. The past day and night had been a challenge, but Lila had done everything she was supposed to do. Sybbie had eaten a good dinner of pears and sweet potatoes, Gerber style. Then, she had seemed perfectly happy and normal when Lila got out a collection of small metal pots and pans and colorful plastic containers. She even laughed when Lila built towers on the rug and helped Sybbie knock them down.

Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred until Lila tried to give the baby her bedtime bottle. Lila had researched the appropriate formulas and amounts. Carefully, she tested the temperature on her wrist to make sure it was exactly right. Sybbie responded with a happy gurgle.

What was supposed to happen next was that the baby went to sleep until morning. Unfortunately, Sybbie hadn’t read the same baby manuals. She finished her bottle and wanted to play again. That lasted until midnight, at which point she threw a baby-sized tantrum.

It wasn’t the little one’s fault. Poor sweetheart had had her life turned upside down. Knowing the cause, though, didn’t help when Lila’s body craved sleep. Getting James’s text was a lifesaver. She probably shouldn’t have accepted his offer so quickly, but she had been almost comatose.

Now she’d had just enough of a snooze that her adrenaline was flowing again. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Carefully, she crept down the stairs, avoiding the ones that squeaked. If Sybbie was asleep, she dared not wake her up.

The scene in the living room took her heart and gave it a good hard twist, almost a physical pain. The lights were low. The TV was on, but the sound was muted. James was stretched out with his feet propped on the coffee table. Sybbie slept blissfully on James’s chest, her knees tucked under her and her little bottom up in the air.

The afghan had fallen to the floor, but neither man nor baby seemed to care.

What should she do now? With the hour of good, solid sleep she’d had, surely she could take over and let James go home. But it seemed a shame to wake him. Not only that, if they disturbed the baby, all of James’s efforts would have been in vain.

Lila yawned. According to the mantel clock, it was still a good two hours before the sun would come up. She might as well join them. Grabbing the afghan off the floor, she covered her two guests and found a blanket of her own. She curled up in the recliner and closed her eyes.

* * *

James groaned, trying to figure out why his back ached and why the dog was sitting on his chest. He opened his eyes and blinked. The world came into focus slowly. It was eight o’clock in the morning, and his charge still slept peacefully. He needed to hit the john, but he didn’t want to disturb the child.

Across the room, Lila was a lump in the recliner, the top of her head barely visible above the edge of her blanket. He smiled in spite of his physical discomfort. She must have come downstairs at some point and not wanted to wake him.

Evidently, he made a noise in spite of himself, because she jerked straight up in the chair and stared around the room wild-eyed.

He waved a hand to get her attention. “Everything is fine,” he whispered. “The baby’s still sleeping.”

Lila stood up and stretched, giving him a mouthwatering view of her flat belly and cute navel. “Thank God for that,” she muttered. Then she frowned at him. “Why are you still here? You have to go to work.”

Her tone irritated him. “You might try saying, ‘Thank you, James.’ ‘You saved my butt, James.’”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I do appreciate it.” She sounded like a little kid being forced to thank Grandma for an ugly Christmas sweater.

Their entire conversation was being conducted in whispers. Thankfully, Sybbie was sleeping so deeply now, she never stirred. She had missed out on several hours of slumber the night before. Clearly, she was making up for lost time.

Carefully, he stood up, his hand cradling the baby’s back. “If you’ll take her, I’ll go home and get ready for work. I wouldn’t leave, but I promised Mrs. Bellamy that I’d finish stabilizing her banister and newel post this morning.”

Lila was flushed, either from sleep or because she was flustered. “Of course you have to go.”

They finessed the baby transfer without a hitch.

James rubbed the crick in his neck. “Can you manage ordering the baby bed?”

“Yes,” Lila said, her voice curt. “I’m not totally incompetent.”

“I never said you were.”

They stared at each other across the room, the sofa between them. Old wounds had inexplicably opened up, leaving both of them on edge.

Lila sighed deeply. “I apologize, James, for being so touchy. It’s the lack of sleep. I’m extremely grateful for everything you did last night.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you later. We’ll come up with a plan.”