The Baby Jackpot

Chapter Eleven



Cole wasn’t sure what the attorney said to Valerie Linden on the phone, but within an hour she had removed not only the offending entries but the entire blog.

“She sounded scared to death,” Tony told Cole in a call later that night. “She invited you to come to her house and look through her computer. She claims she’s deleted all the JPEGs.”

“She might have copies,” Cole hedged. He hadn’t the slightest interest in entering his landlady’s home. When he’d gone inside to sign the lease, he’d nearly passed out from the smell of potpourri and perfumed candles. “However, I’m willing to take her word for it.”

“She seems compliant,” the attorney assured him, “and I’m sure we’d all rather keep this quiet. I’ll monitor her activities on the web, though, to be safe.”

“Sounds good.” Cole didn’t want to risk attracting more publicity with a lawsuit, plus he didn’t like the idea of using a sledgehammer on a gnat. He just hoped the woman had learned her lesson, so that future tenants, as well as neighbors, would be safe.

“She agreed to let you off the hook for the lease,” Tony added. “If you want to move out, she won’t hassle you about the rent.”

“Thanks.” That didn’t seem like enough, so Cole added, “You’ve done a terrific job.”

“I’m happy to help,” Tony replied cheerfully. “Need any help finding a place? I know a couple of good Realtors who handle leases.”

“I already have a prospect.”

And he did, Cole reflected as they ended the call. Now all he had to do was change Stacy’s mind.

* * *

ON SATURDAY MORNING, Cole arrived at her apartment complex armed with two thick slices of tiramisu in a sack and an African violet in a painted pot. The overall presentation fell short of what he’d hoped for, but he’d had to wait half an hour for Papa Giovanni’s to open, and that ought to count for something.

At the foot of the steps, he found his way blocked by Ned Norwalk, holding up one end of a steeply tilted sofa. Disconcerted, Cole moved out of the way as the nurse, the couch and a second man, whom Cole recognized as an orderly, reached the ground.

“Hey, Doc.” The surfer was breathing hard. “You here to give Harper a hand?”

“Visiting Stacy,” Cole answered.

“African violets. Nice choice,” Ned remarked as the pair hauled their load toward a pickup truck parked by the sidewalk.

“Glad you approve.” Cole had to admit he could benefit from some coaching on the romance front. But preferably from someone other than Ned.

He hurried upstairs, eager to talk to Stacy while the guys were occupied. He’d have preferred to call ahead, but why make it easier for her to turn him down? Still, he should have considered the awkwardness of pleading his case with an audience.

Well, she wanted to be swept away. While a sack of sliced cake and a pot of flowers might not rise to such heights, he was trying.

The door to the apartment stood open. Inside, only a few pieces of furniture remained, with boxes everywhere and a large, dusty rectangle on the carpet showing where the couch had been. Amid the mess, Harper stood with hands on hips, glaring at a small girl who mirrored her pose, staring back at her. “Mia, quit fooling around and pack the rest of your toys.”

“I’m hungry!” the little girl proclaimed.

“Have an apple.”

“I hate apples!”

“You love apples. Besides...” Her mother caught sight of Cole. “Dr. Rattigan. Was Stacy expecting you?”

“No,” he admitted. “Is she here?”

“She’s at her storage unit.” Harper wiped her hands on her jeans. “Deciding what to bring over.”

He’d assumed she would be home at this hour. “Will she be back soon?”

“I’m not sure.” Harper blew out a sharp breath. “Do you have her cell number?”

“Yes. I’ll give her a call.” Cole turned to go.

“That smells great!” Mia ran over to him, her gaze trained on the sack of tiramisu.

“It’s reserved for Stacy,” Cole responded automatically.

“All of it?”

“Cut it out, Mia,” said her mother. To Cole, she added apologetically, “I know it’s only ten o’clock, but she’s been up since dawn. She needs a nap, but I have to show the guys where to unload stuff at the new house.”

“I could watch her,” he offered impulsively. Even if Stacy didn’t return promptly, Cole was curious about what babysitting involved. These days, he found children fascinating in an entirely new way.

“Would you?” Gratitude shone on her face. “Thanks so much.” She caught her daughter’s hand. “Mia, I want you to finish packing and then take a nap. You can use your sleeping bag. Dr. Rattigan is going to stay here. I’m counting on you to be good.”

“Okay, Mommy.” The little girl heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’ll do my best.”

Ned appeared in the doorway, with the other man right behind. “Let’s grab a few more boxes and go,” he said. “I promised to return the pickup truck by noon.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Harper grabbed a box labeled Dinnerware. Setting down his gifts, Cole hefted another box, marked Bedroom, and followed the others to the parking lot.

A few minutes later, the truck and Harper’s car were loaded and the two-vehicle caravan rolled off. From the sidewalk, Cole tried Stacy’s number and was sent to voice mail.

No reception at the storage unit? Disappointed, he left a message with the basic information: At her place, babysitting. Needed to talk. That pretty much covered it. He texted her, too, for good measure.

Nearing the top of the stairs, he came face-to-face with Mia. Standing a few steps up, she met him at eye level. She had a snub nose and tangled hair a few shades lighter than her mother’s.

“I finished packing,” the little girl announced.

“Already?”

“It’s just toys. Wanna check?”

“Sure.” He followed her.

The girl trotted ahead with the swagger of a miniature teenager. Not what Cole had expected, he mused. She had attitude to spare. He’d been a timid child himself.

Inside, Mia darted into a bedroom. A large bed frame leaned against the wall. In the open closet, Cole noted an unzipped garment bag containing women’s clothing and realized the child must have shared this room with her mom. He didn’t blame Harper for her eagerness to move to a bigger place, although the timing hadn’t been good for Stacy.

He still hoped it might prove to be good for him.

Mia pointed to a cardboard box piled with dolls, games, teddy bears and picture books. “See?” she said proudly.

The haphazard assemblage offended Cole’s sense of order. The box could hold at least 50 percent more stuff, with less likelihood of damage. How did you correct a child without hurting her feelings?

He got an idea. “That’s a good start,” Cole said. “But I’ll bet there’s already plenty of air at your new home.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

Cole knelt on the lint-strewn carpet, glad he’d worn jeans. He’d considered putting on a suit, but decided that might look more stilted than romantic. “See all this air?” He poked between objects. “You don’t have to take that.”

Mia knelt opposite him, sticking one hand between the toys. “How do I get rid of it?”

“May I show you?” Cole asked.

“Okay.”

He removed the contents, and then laid the flat games on the bottom and set a couple of books in place. Mia picked up on the idea, placing additional books so neatly that he let her take over. She wedged the dolls and teddy bears on top.

“That’s impressive,” Cole told her, noting how much more she’d managed to fit inside.

Mia beamed. “Goodbye, air!” She raised her hands and wiggled her fingers as if the air had turned into butterflies that she was setting free.

You promised to oversee her nap.

“Where’s your sleeping bag?”

She indicated the closet. “I need a snack first.”

“Your mother mentioned apples.”

Mia studied him shrewdly. “You don’t know much about kids, do you?”

“I’m not a pediatrician, if that’s what you mean.” Although Cole suspected he was about to be played, he was curious to find out how this little sprite’s mind worked. “So?”

“Let’s make brownies.” She hopped to her feet. “I’ll sleep real good while they’re baking.”

“That isn’t on the agenda,” Cole protested as she flitted out the door. “Too many sweets, and besides, your mother said...”

She disappeared. For a man accustomed to instant obedience from nurses and orderlies, it was disconcerting to find his objections ignored. Well, he’d sought an education in babysitting, hadn’t he?

In the kitchen, Cole found Mia taking out a box of brownie mix, a bowl and a mixer. He supposed he ought to stand firm. On the other hand, the girl appeared too excited to sleep.

“Shouldn’t we be packing those things?” Cole asked.

“These are Stacy’s,” she explained.

“She won’t mind us using them?”

“She loves brownies.”

Cole made a snap decision. “Let’s do it. And then you go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Mia responded cheerily. “I promise.”

* * *

IN THE CARPORT, Stacy noted Harper’s empty space. Had she removed all her stuff already?

Stacy’s conscience nagged that she should have offered to help. Yet with two guys at her disposal, Harper could handle this. Besides, Stacy needed to retrieve some of her possessions to replace the things Harper had taken with her, although she planned to leave her larger pieces of furniture in storage until she’d chosen a roommate.

She lifted a box of dishes from the car’s trunk. When she and Harper had combined households a couple of years ago, there’d been no room for her beloved china with its delicate flower pattern. She’d missed it.

Grasping the cut-out handles, Stacy trudged toward her unit. There was nothing wrong with either of the women who were interested in moving in with her, and she owed them a quick decision. But it wouldn’t be the same. After Andrew’s betrayal, Stacy had found a refuge here with her old friend. Now she expected the apartment would be more of a way station than a home.

Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself.

Stacy stamped up the steps, wincing as dishes clinked despite her careful cushioning job.

You’ll survive. But if you aren’t careful, your china might not.

Balancing the box on her hip, she reached for the door. To her surprise, the knob turned to reveal Cole, his hair mussed and a smudge of what appeared to be chocolate on one cheek. From inside came the unmistakable scent of freshly baked brownies.

Seeing him gave her an unexpected feeling of rightness. As though he belonged there. “What’s going on?”

“You should check your phone messages.” Relieving her of the box, Cole carted it into the kitchen. “I told you I was here. I assumed you’d be home, and when your roommate left, I figured I’d wait.”

Stacy spotted her mixing bowl, beaters and a few utensils, freshly washed and set out to dry on the drainage board. On the counter, the timer indicated fifteen minutes remaining for the treats baking in the oven. “What’s all this?”

“I’m babysitting Mia so Harper can concentrate on moving,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I hope we didn’t wake her.”

“She’s asleep?” Stacy matched his tone.

He nodded toward Harper and Mia’s bedroom. “Like a dog.”

“You mean a log.” At six, the little girl rarely took naps anymore. “How’d you manage that?”

He smiled. “I let her con me into baking brownies and it wore her out.”

Stacy laughed softly. “You’re into baking now?”

“She did most of the work,” Cole told her. “I had no idea children could be so skillful.”

“She loves to bake.” He didn’t seem aware that flecks of chocolate adorned a nearby cabinet and a patch of wall, as well as his face. Dampening a paper towel, Stacy reached over and rubbed the chocolate from his cheek. “You forgot to scrub, Doctor.”

Cole’s gaze held hers. “Thank you, Nurse.”

A delicious tremor ran through Stacy. Except for strictly professional pre-op assistance, she hadn’t touched Cole since they’d made love. She shifted toward him, fascinated by his parted lips, his welcoming air. He took a deep breath, his muscles tightening as he reached to draw her close.

Recovering her senses, Stacy moved away. On the table, she noticed a sack with the Papa Giovanni’s logo, and an African violet. “What’s this?”

Though he looked a bit disappointed, he took her deflection courteously. “Housewarming gifts.”

“Harper’s the one with the new home,” she said.

“You’re moving, too, in a way.” Cole lifted the lid from her box of dishes. “You packed them in towels. Clever.”

“I heard something clink on the way up.” Gently, Stacy removed a plate from its terry-cloth wrap. She didn’t see any chips and put the dish by the sink.

“I’ll wash them,” Cole offered. “If that’s what you were planning.”

“There’s a dishwasher.” She returned to fold the towel. Since it looked clean, she decided to skip running extra laundry.

“I don’t mind helping.” He sucked in another deep breath. “Stacy, we need to talk.”

She had a good idea of what came next. “I can’t let you move in. It won’t work.”

He didn’t ask why. Instead, he startled her by saying, “I have to leave my place.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, except that my landlady snooped in my apartment and posted photos of it on her blog.”

“She did what?” Anger flared on his behalf. “That’s terrible.”

“Tony Franco set her straight,” Cole replied. “While I doubt she’d pull the same stunt again, I don’t feel comfortable staying there.”

“No kidding!”

He set the next plate by the sink and folded the towel. “Have you picked a roommate?”

“Not yet.” She nearly added that she had several strong candidates, but why bother? If she’d found someone ideal, she’d have chosen already, and he knew it.

“I’m not a big believer in fate,” Cole commented as he continued to unpack her dishes. “But when circumstances nudge you in a logical direction, why ignore it? While you’re carrying our child, Stacy, you deserve to have someone here who’ll take care of you. There’s an empty bedroom and I need to rent a new place.”

“People will find out.” Although it wasn’t the main issue, it was the first objection that sprang to mind.

“Who cares?” He folded another towel.

“You should.”

“But I don’t. Besides, most of the staff know already.”

She felt herself weakening. Cole had been supportive and kind. If only she didn’t run the risk—in her hormone-fueled state—of falling in love with him. And then there was the question of the baby’s future.

“You aren’t changing my mind,” she said.

Hurt shadowed his face. “Why not try it for a few months? See how it goes.”

He’d misunderstood. “I meant the baby. Giving it up. There’s a couple meant to have this child, and it will be a privilege to fulfill their dreams.”

Face averted, he retrieved a cup and saucer. “Okay.” The sadness in his voice knifed through her.

Stacy wished he’d argue with her, because that would make it easier to resist. Determinedly, she rallied her defenses. “And even though we had sex, you aren’t my boyfriend.” The word sounded childish, applied to this distinguished man, so she amended, “Or whatever.”

“You already declined to marry me,” Cole reminded her. Onto the counter went a salad plate. “I get the message.”

She’d never met anyone so opaque. Usually, she picked up people’s emotional states easily.

But then, Cole’s reticent personality was the problem. He cared, but not madly and deeply. Still, his good qualities—his honesty and dependability—suited her needs during the difficult months ahead.

“Ground rules,” Stacy ventured.

Cole studied her, revealing nothing of his emotions. “Yes?”

“We’d be friends, nothing more,” she said. “Like Harper and me.”

“Check.”

Although she’d have appreciated more discussion, he had conceded the point. “This doesn’t change our relationship at work.”

“Agreed.”

“No trying to influence my choices.” She was gaining momentum.

“Got that.”

“We lead separate lives,” Stacy went on. “If I choose to go out with people, or...” She had no interest in dating while she was pregnant. “...or whatever, that’s my business.”

Cole nodded. Watching her. Waiting for more terms?

Tell me you can’t live that close to me and not treasure and love and hold me....

“And after the baby’s born, once I’m on my feet again, you’ll find another place.”

“Or we renegotiate,” he said. “If the arrangement suits us both, why rock the boat?”

The arrangement. Sometimes Stacy thought he chose his words specifically to frustrate her. Speaking of rocking boats, she had an impulse to tip this one and dump Cole into cold water.

If only he’d get angry. Not that she really wanted that, but she longed for an emotional reaction. For him to have fallen in love with her. But that wasn’t Cole.

“We’ll see,” she conceded.

“I’ll move in tomorrow,” he said.

Wait. She hadn’t exactly decided to give him permission. Yet he’d agreed to all her terms, which made it too late to back out.

Thank goodness, Stacy thought, and refused to examine her sudden rush of happiness.