The Baby Battle Read online

  “Sorry.” He grinned. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “It’s okay.” Ducking, maybe even blushing a little, she admitted, “It was fun. I haven’t laughed that hard in forever.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Looks like you thought of everything,” she said, nodding to the crib in a windowed alcove. He’d also purchased a changing table and matching dresser. Already neatly assembled were diapers and wipes and powder and lotion. In the adjoining bathroom were a pint-size infant tub and shampoo and plush hooded towels his secretary had helped him find in a variety of animal designs. “Thank you. It’s better than anything I’d expected.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath while awaiting her reaction. “And look, you need to know that I’m not prone to jumping into things, either. But this is right. Us being together for Flynn. Without sounding like some sappy Dr. Phil special, I feel it in here.” He patted his chest.

  Grinning, she said, “Ditto. Want to help get all of Flynn’s boxes unpacked?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “THIS IS AN INDOOR POOL, Tag.” Hands on her hips, Olivia wasn’t sure how to best approach the pillared, marble soaking tub currently being filled with water flowing from a golden swan beak.

  “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 ador
able, 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!

  Chapter Nine

  “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.”

  THE 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.