Babies in the Bargain (15 page)

Anything to get away, before he upset her with a wrong move. And before he embarrassed himself.

“My fridge is practically empty. I’ve been at the hospital for almost two weeks.”

“No problem. I’ll go buy something while you feed the little guy.” Even better. The evening’s fresh air would cool his blood.

He handed her the baby, brought the bassinet upstairs to Paulito’s new room, and escaped from the house.
Dios
, he was feeling like a husband. A husband with marital duties, but no privileges.

An hour later, he returned, his arms loaded with groceries. The baby was already sleeping in his new room, and Holly had changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Barefoot, she emptied the bags and stored the food in the refrigerator.

“Have a beer.” Marc opened two cans and handed her one. He hesitated, wondering how to phrase his toast. “Thank you for helping us.”

She raised her can and smiled. “To Paulito’s health.”

“To Paulito’s health, and to yours.” He guzzled his beer and then pointed to the countertop. “I bought a broiled chicken, fries, and onions rings.”

Soon an appetizing aroma filled the kitchen. Marc helped Holly set the plates and cutlery on the round oak table in the dining area. A simple domestic task that warmed his heart. She switched on the light. He noticed the Tiffany-style chandelier as he settled in one of the heavy chairs. “You have a beautiful house with a lot of potential.”

Holly served the meal. “It could use some bright colors. Red in the dining area, shiny white in the kitchen, pastel in the bedrooms. Something to match my bedspread...”

Holly chatted during dinner, describing her plans for the house. Between bites, he took mental notes of her preferences and promised himself he’d thank her for her kindness by remodeling her house exactly as she’d dreamed it.

He couldn’t remember enjoying a dinner as much as he had tonight, in the cozy atmosphere of her old-fashioned kitchen, with faded Formica countertops, spotted linoleum floor, and green metal cabinets.

Then he stopped listening to his lovely hostess. His mind drifted to an outdated kitchen, quite similar to this one, and happy days when Mama created delicious meals for her active brood. For the first time since the accident, peace filled his heart.

“I’m full. I’ll clean up and then I’m off to bed.” Holly stood and collected the plates.

“No. I’ll take care of it. Go to sleep. You’re on call tomorrow.”

“But I can’t let you—”

“Please.” Taking the plates from her hand, he piled them in the sink, and then walked her to the bottom of the stairs.

“Thank you for everything.” He raised her hand and pressed his lips to her wrist. “Sweet dreams.” A chaste kiss to show her how grateful he was. He stepped back right away and clasped his hands behind his back. No need to play with fire when chastity was not his specialty.

“Good night, Marc.” She went up four steps, then turned and smiled. “Sweet dreams to you too.”

 What a joke. As if he’d be able to sleep tonight, knowing she’d be lying in her bed only a few feet away at the end of the hallway. Imagine if she’d stayed in his condo, with their beds separated by only a wall. He’d have ended up pacing the lobby of the building for most of the night. Or...

He snatched his mind away from his favorite fantasy.

Washing the dishes and tidying up helped him kill the time. It was only nine and the kitchen was spotless. He collected a couple of prepared bottles for the baby and grabbed another beer before tiptoeing up the creaking steps to check on Paulito.

His first night as a father.

Marc sucked in a deep breath. The little angel slept on his back, his lips puckered on a pacifier that Holly had given him. Marc had told her not to worry about the night feeding. She’d be on call for thirty-six hours as of tomorrow morning and needed her rest.           

He went to his room, undressed, then reconsidered, and slipped on a pair of boxers, just in case he needed to get up at night and run into the baby’s room. It wouldn’t do to bump into Holly, stark naked.

With a wry grin, he wondered what she wore at night. Nightgown? Long or short pajamas? Cotton or nylon?

 His imagination fabricated a picture of Holly in a silk negligee. Blue, to match the color of her eyes, and very short to reveal her shapely legs.

The picture was too vivid. His body tensed, and he glared at the telltale tent in his shorts. Irritation flickered through him. How was he to survive for three months under these trying conditions? Look but don’t touch.

He wished to God Holly appreciated his effort.

With a curse, he reached for one of the books he’d brought with him.
Pediatric Notebook
was the right antidote for his ailment. He forced himself to concentrate on his reading.

Mierda
. He had a feeling he’d learn the book by heart before the night was over.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

To ignore the unfamiliar footsteps and noises emanating from outside her bedroom, Holly swallowed a Tylenol PM before going to bed and drifted off to sleep in no time.

The baby’s wailing woke her at dawn. Paulito demanding his first bottle. She smiled and bolted out of bed.

Darting to the baby’s room, she bumped into Marc coming from the opposite direction of the hallway.

Holly stared at his near-naked torso, scanned its width with longing and blinked. She’d once felt so cozy, her head cushioned against his comfortable chest.

Marc’s eyes fixed on her bare thighs. His Adam’s apple moved up and down his throat. “I told you I’ll take care of Paulito tonight.” His gaze skimmed her cotton mini-gown and rested on Mickey Mouse adorning the front. Her face flushed when his eyebrows rose and a swift smile curved his lips. “Mickey Mouse? Hmm.”

She wished she’d taken the trouble to cover herself with a bathrobe before leaving her room. If she was to be caught in her nightie by the man of her dreams, why couldn’t it have been in the lovely blue lingerie her mother had bought her from her last trip to France? Talk about bad luck. The offensive Mickey Mouse shirt was going straight to the bottom of her closet. 

“It’s already six-fifteen. I’ll have to leave soon.” She entered the baby’s room and gathered him in her arms to cuddle him against her chest.

Marc followed her. She lowered her gaze toward the baby, but all she noticed were Marc’s powerful thighs, covered with a hairy fuzz, and right above them, his navy boxers and the bulge filling them. “Why don’t you take your shower while I feed the baby?” she squeaked.

The man’s naked mass of muscles radiated heat straight to her belly. Unbearable heat.

He turned around, muttering. “A shower. Yeah. Cold one.”

Maybe she should take one too.

By the time she brought the baby downstairs, Marc was presentable and his usual handsome self in a pair of tan tailored slacks, beige buttoned-down shirt, and silk tie. He had the coffee ready and the bagels toasted.

“We’ll drop Paulito at the daycare together. I called yesterday and registered him. Then I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

As they finished their breakfast, the bell rang. Marc opened the door and spoke in Spanish with an authoritative tone. Four guys followed him to the kitchen and handed Marc card samples of paint colors and wallpaper.

“Holly, this is Juan and his crew. Take a few minutes and go through these samples. Choose your colors.” He gave her the paint card samples. “They’ll start by removing the old paper and washing the walls. After that, they’ll collect the baby’s furniture from my condo. They hope to be finished in a week. If you don’t mind, I’d like to bring my bed.”

“Yes, of course. The daybed isn’t comfortable. It’s twenty years old and ready for the Goodwill shop.” She averted her eyes, blushing.

“Oh, no. It’s comfortable. Just a bit short. Can they put it in the basement?”

She nodded and handed him the sample cards. “These are my favorites.”

“
Bueno dias, doctora
. We do
pintura
buena
for you,” Juan said as she and Marc headed for the door.

“
Muchas gracias, mis amigos
,” Marc answered over his shoulder as he held the front door open for her.

Trust Marc to organize things in his swift and efficient way. For a change, Holly was grateful he did. He installed the baby in his car seat, stuffed Paulito’s bag into the trunk, and opened the passenger door for her. “Ready, Paulito?” he asked as he started the car and drove out into the early morning traffic.

“I hope he’ll be happy in daycare. I’ll check on him at lunch time.”

“And I’ll check on him during my first break.” They looked at each other and laughed. “Do you think all fathers worry so much about their kids?”

“All good fathers.”

“Thank you, Holly.”

Marc stopped in front of a one-story brick house adjacent to the main hospital. A big sign on the front lawn read,
Washington
Hospital
Daycare, Happy Kids
.

A good omen, Holly thought. They met with the manager, a cheerful woman who took them to visit the nursery. “We have ten babies in this room and four staff.”

Marc nodded. “Good ratio.”

Holly gently placed Paulito in a crib with a side mirror that allowed a quick check on him even if he faced the wall.

“None of the babies are crying,” Holly whispered to Marc. “I think we can go now.”

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and then before six this evening to pick him up,” Marc told the manager.

A few minutes later, he dropped Holly in front of the hospital and went to park. It was her idea to avoid gossip by not entering the building together.

Tough.

Chris was standing in front of the elevator. The scowl he gave her spoke volumes.

“Morning, Chris.” She shot him her sweetest smile.

“Morning,” he mumbled as he followed her inside the elevator and then pushed the button to his seventh floor. “Got a minute? We have to talk.”

“I don’t have time right now,” she said, pressing the button to her fourth floor.

“And I’ve been working all night.”

“Is that why you’re in such a crappy mood?” she asked, not ready to deal with the argument she felt coming.

“Holly, do you realize that you’re the talk of this hospital?” The little vein on his temple pulsed so hard Holly was afraid it would burst.

She shrugged. “Do people have nothing better to do than gossip?”

“Are you mad? Moving in with Marc? The confirmed playboy? The self-admitted womanizer?”

“For once the hospital grapevine is behind on the news.” She couldn’t help laughing. “It’s Marc who moved into my house.”

Chris’s face turned beet-red. “He’s taking advantage of you. Imposing himself.”

“Chris, calm down. I invited him for the baby’s sake.” She rubbed a soothing hand over his arm and didn’t leave the elevator when it stopped at her fourth floor.

“Are you crazy? People say you’re living together now. That you’re head over heels in love with him.”

“Well, they can say whatever they want.” Holly crossed her arms over her chest. “Damn it, Chris, since when do I care about hospital gossip?” she said in a voice high-pitched with tension. “But just for your information, it’s a simple roommate arrangement. A convenient one to make the nightshift babysitting easier. Marc and I will dovetail our shifts. When he’s at the hospital, I’ll stay with the baby and vice versa. We won’t be on the same team at night.”

Chris reflected for a few seconds. “How about the other nights? When you’re both off?”

“There aren’t many.”

“I was just warning you. Like a good friend. Be careful.”   

“Hmm. See you later.” As the door closed, she allowed herself a sigh. Had she made a mistake? A colossal one?

Nope, she wouldn’t let hospital gossip destroy her inner peace.

The men in her life would be happily occupied today. Paulito in his daycare and Marc in surgery somewhere. She could finally relax without any responsibility except her own patients. Just like a month ago, before the accident, before the adorable baby was born, before her life had turned upside down.

* * *

Two weeks later, Holly felt far from relaxed as she turned the car into her driveway. She turned off the ignition and massaged her neck. She had seen little of Marc since he’d moved in with her, both of them alternating night calls and babysitting. But she had seen way too much of the chaos caused by the painters’ invasion. Her patience was wearing thin.

Just as she decided to talk to Marc about rushing the remodeling job or stopping it, he stepped out the front door, a crisp white shirt highlighting his tanned skin and a red and navy striped tie dangling untied down over his chest. He looked like a pirate with his hair still damp, the top button of his shirt open, and his sleeves rolled to mid-arm.

Good enough to eat raw. And she was hungry. She slammed her slack jaw shut.

“Hi, Holly. You had a good day?”