CHAPTER Seven
Victoria walked into Connor’s palatial home for the first time the next evening, not sure of what she would find.
What she didn’t expect was to see Connor lying on his back on the thick carpet in the living room, bouncing above him a bathed, ecstatic Dylan. She hesitated in the doorway and watched as Dylan squealed in delight and Connor whooped.
A long-forgotten sense of being the outsider swept her, of being the kid with the mother who slept all day while her father blew in and out of town like tumbleweed.
Then Connor caught sight of her, and flashed her a dizzying smile. “Look, Dylan, there’s Victoria.”
She dropped her leather laptop case and took a step forward. Dylan stretched his arms toward her. She swung him up and buried her nose against his neck. He smelled clean, of baby powder and calamine lotion. He made soft snuffling sounds and her heart melted.
“How was your day?” Connor had sat up, the laughter fading from his face as his eyes became watchful.
She let out a deep breath. “A lot better than yesterday.” Knowing that Dylan was being looked after by Connor’s housekeeper had lifted a great weight off her shoulders.
“How’s Dylan been?” She set the baby down on the floor and, dropping down beside him, she tugged his T-shirt up.
“Ratty a little earlier. But he had a good sleep.”
“The spots are looking better, not so red.”
“He was fussing so I bathed him … and the cool water seemed to settle him.”
“He loves his bath.” Victoria searched Connor’s chest for signs that Dylan had splashed with his usual abandon but he looked as immaculate as ever. Typical. If it had been her, her shirt would be clinging to her.
“I think you can handle bath time from now on. You must do a far better job.”
His grin flashed back. “I’ve changed—both my jeans and shirt looked like candidates for the wettest wet.”
“Oh.” Victoria instantly felt better. “I’ve arranged for some of my things to be delivered tomorrow. I’ll put the rest into storage and let the town house.”
“I’ve made some calls,” Connor said. “I’ll be interviewing for an au pair for Dylan tomorrow during the morning.”
“But I thought we’d do that together.” He was doing it again—taking over, marginalizing her involvement. And underlining her own insecurities. “I want to have input into the person that we hire.”
Connor frowned. “I’ve already arranged the interviews, and I’ll be working from home until I employ an au pair. It’s not fair to leave Moni with the house and Dylan.”
“Moni?”
“My housekeeper. I’ll introduce you shortly.”
“Thanks,” she said brusquely. “But I’d appreciate it if you would rearrange the interviews for when I come home. We’ve got joint guardianship—and that means we’re partners, we consult each other and make joint decisions.” That would be hard for him. Connor North didn’t have a compromising bone in that powerful, autocratic body.
Her gaze dwelled for a moment on the strong shoulders, the determined jaw, then locked with his unreadable gray gaze. A shivery awareness caused her to shift her attention back to the baby wriggling on the carpet.
“I want to satisfy myself that the person looking after Dylan is the best candidate we can get.”
“And you don’t trust me to find that person?”
She thought of his track record. He hadn’t done a great job picking trustworthy people to surround himself with in the past. Dana Fisher and Paul Harper had turned out to be faithless. But she couldn’t very well remind him of that.
Instead she said stubbornly, “I’m coguardian, I have a right to be involved.”
“You’re determined to make this as difficult as possible, aren’t you?”
Victoria shook her head. “I just want to make sure you choose the right person.”
So the next day, in consultation with Victoria, Connor rescheduled the interviews. Two were set for that night and one for Friday evening. The first candidate, a young woman with impeccable qualifications, had already arrived by the time Victoria came home from work, late and flustered.
After ten minutes’ easy conversation with Anne Greenside, Connor had decided she was the perfect choice.
But Victoria clearly had other ideas. “I see most of your jobs have involved older children,” she quizzed Anne.
“I love babies,” Anne said with a sincerity Connor found convincing.
“But you can’t stay late?”
Connor had known that would be a stumbling block the moment he’d seen the woman’s resume. Despite her devotion to Dylan, Victoria was ambitious. Work would always come first. She would want a nanny who could work late. On a regular basis. He didn’t have to cast his mind back far to remember the kind of hours Dana had worked.
“I live with my invalid mother—she needs me at night. But I can start tomorrow, if that makes it easier for you and your husband.”
“We’re not married—Dylan’s not even our baby,” Victoria blurted out.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of that.” But Anne looked curiously from one to the other.
“My fault,” said Connor easily, “I should’ve explained the situation to the agency.” He quickly filled her in.
“Poor baby.” Anne looked stricken. “He’s fortunate to have the two of you. But it’s not going to be easy for him as he grows up.”
“What do you mean?” Victoria asked first.
“He’ll always have questions—he’s not like other children now. His parents’ death has seen to that.”
“He’ll have us.”
Connor could feel Victoria’s growing tension.
“Yes, but you’re not his parents. You aren’t planning to adopt him—” She looked at them enquiringly.
Connor shook his head slowly.
“We haven’t discussed it,” Victoria said repressively.
After Anne had left, Connor said. “I like her. She’s perfect. We should offer her the position before someone else snaps her up.”
Victoria shook her head. “I don’t agree. And she’s very opinionated.”
But Anne had said spoken the truth. It was in Dylan’s interests for them to consider all points of view. But Connor bit his tongue. He should’ve expected this. When had Victoria ever agreed with him? Yet, instead of accusing her of merely trying to frustrate him, he drew a deep breath. “Her references are fantastic.”
“I still need to call and verify them. I can only do that tomorrow.” She glanced at him. “Anyway, we have to see the others. I’d like you to keep an open mind while we interview them.”
Before he could respond the next candidate had arrived. It didn’t take long for Connor to catch Victoria’s eye. She looked equally dubious.
He relaxed a little. His concerns that Victoria might oppose him simply for the hell of it evaporated.
They thanked the woman for coming and Connor saw her out.
When he returned to the study Victoria said, “She was awful.”
“Agreed.” That must be a first. He started to grin and Victoria smiled back, her mouth wide and luscious. Instantly, heat spread through him.
“I want someone older. Steadier.”
Connor forced his gaze away from her mouth and tried to focus on what she was saying. “Not too old.”
Victoria stuck her bottom lip out in that infuriating way that he’d come to recognize meant trouble.
“I can see you’ve already decided on Anne,” she said. “You should’ve waited until I came before you started the interview.”
The warmth and desire that had filled him evaporated. “Don’t be unreasonable. I didn’t start it alone by design. You were late.”
“Something came up.” But she looked abashed. “It won’t happen tomorrow.”
But when Victoria rushed home on Friday evening, it was to find that the third prospect had cancelled. And Connor had gone ahead and employed Anne.
“I called. You were in a meeting,” he said to her intense fury.
“You should’ve waited.”
“I didn’t want to mess around and lose Anne,” he said with patient logic that infuriated her further.
After giving Dylan his bottle that night, Victoria headed downstairs in her nightgown and dressing gown to make herself a cup of tea in the state-of-the-art kitchen, still annoyed at his take-charge actions.
She drank the hot tea, and thought how lovely it had been to come home to a hot meal that Connor’s housekeeper had prepared. Usually she was too tired at night to make much more than a sandwich for dinner.
When she’d finished her tea and rinsed out the cup, she felt much better, and wearily wound her way up the stairs to her room—suite of rooms, she amended. A large bathroom and two bedrooms led off the sitting room. The smaller of the bedrooms had been converted into a nursery—complete with pale-blue walls and bright-yellow ducks stenciled as a border.
She pushed open the nursery door. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness from the night-light she made out a big, bulky shadow beside the cot where the baby slept.
Connor.
She stilled. She hadn’t expected to find him here. Stupid. Of course he’d want to say good-night to the baby. Her anger at him was overtaken by the slow pound of her heart that was suddenly loud in her ears.
Connor turned his head. “The big guy is fast asleep.”
“I know, I put him down.” Victoria felt the smile tug at the corner of her lips. “Tonight was a struggle, he fought so hard against sleep.”
“Tough fellow.”
Stopping beside Connor, she said softly, “He’s so little.”
“And amazingly resilient.”
“And we’re responsible for him.”
“I still find it tough to believe that we’re now standing in loco parentis.” Connor gazed down at the baby with an expression Victoria could not decipher.
In the place of his parents.
It brought home the reality of the responsibility facing them. And how permanent the arrangement was. It was vital for her and Connor to work together. For all intents and purposes they were now Dylan’s parents. The only difference between them was that she really was Dylan’s mother.
Her baby lay so still in the crib that she leant forward to touch him.
“He’s sleeping—I checked, too.” Connor gave her a slight smile. Then his gaze dropped and grew warm.
Victoria glanced down, to find that her dressing gown tie had come undone and fallen open to reveal the white lace, diaphanous nightgowns that she favored.
She flushed. “I think I’ll call it a night.”
And when Connor responded, “That’s a very good idea.” She had no idea what to make of his reply.