“I did say she was still a bit too young to go to daycare and I don’t have a sitter yet. I thought the conclusion was obvious.”
“I thought you said that to let me know you needed time to look for a sitter.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, but I hired you because I need help. Serious help. You’re not going to have time to care for a baby and do your work.”
Gwen’s heart stopped. He was firing her? He couldn’t! She needed this job. “She’s only three months old! She sleeps a lot. I can handle it.”
He looked at the screaming baby, then bestowed a look upon Gwen that sent a shiver through her. “Really?”
Mustering her courage, she said, “Yes!”
“That’s not how it looks to me. I know how this baby thing goes. I had a crying baby. Brody screamed for three months straight. I failed that semester of university. My wife left me—”
Just then the swinging door bounced closed. Gwen hadn’t even realized it had been opened again. With Claire’s crying and their heated conversation she’d missed Brody walking through the room.
Drew’s face paled, then he squeezed his eyes shut. “Perfect.” Heading for the door, he yelled, “Brody!” Then he pushed out of the kitchen.
The light on the bottle warmer finally declared the milk was warm, and Gwen took her baby to a chair to feed her.
This was not going anything like she’d hoped it would. She fed Claire and then sat at the table, totally confused about what she should do. Technically, Drew hadn’t fired her. And she needed this job. She was not leaving without a fight.
Drew ran into the hallway just in time to see the foyer door close. He grabbed his jacket from the newel post on the stairs where he’d stashed it and headed outside.
Brody bounded toward the SUV around the side of the house.
“What are you going to do?” Drew shouted after his son. “Leave?” He dangled the keys. “You’ll need these. Unless you want to walk.”
“What do you care? Mom’s on her honeymoon. You’re trying to buy some old guy’s company. And I’m stuck here.”
“Look, Brody, if I had a choice we’d be skiing right now.”
Brody snorted.
“We would.” The heavy snow had reduced itself to flurries but it was cold. Bitter cold. And he had work to do. Not knowing what else to say, Drew glanced longingly at the kitchen door. Because the top half of the door was glass, he could see Gwen McKenzie at the table with her baby. He nearly groaned. Could this day get any more complicated?
“I’m sorry you heard what you heard, but truthfully I would have thought by now that you would have guessed your mom and I had a terrible marriage. We were only married for just under a year before we divorced.”
Refusing to look at him, Brody said, “And I’m the cause.”
“No!” He laughed miserably. “Lord, no. Your mom and I had lots of problems before you were born.”
“But I added to them—”
“No!” Drew said again, this time stronger.
“I heard what you said about me screaming all the time.”
“You were colicky. That happens. Babies do not destroy marriages. Adults do. Your mom and I never should have gotten married. But she got pregnant—”
Deliberately, she’d told him later. She’d taken out loans to attend her first semester at Harvard and had known four years’ worth of borrowing that kind of money would put her too far in debt when she graduated. Drew’s family was wealthy. He and Olivia had dated and liked each other. So she’d thought they’d be very happy raising a baby and attending university—all paid for by his parents. But his parents had been furious when Drew told them they had gotten married because she was pregnant, and they’d cut him off. The happy marriage that Olivia had envisioned had quickly become a nightmare.
Still, this wasn’t the time or the way to tell Brody all that. And he wasn’t even sure he should be the one to tell Brody.
It seemed this story would be much better coming from his mother.
“How about if we talk later? Right now, I have a mini-crisis in the kitchen.”
Brody sighed and raised his face to the snow. It looked to Drew as if the cool flakes were settling him down, so when he said, “Go,” Drew headed back to the kitchen.
With a deep calming breath of his own, he opened the kitchen door and stepped inside. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Gwen McKenzie slowly raised her gaze to his, her green eyes wary.
He knew she needed this job. He didn’t have to glance at the now sleeping baby to remember that, but he did, and his heart stuttered in his chest. He’d told Brody he had been colicky, but that had been only half the problem. Neither Drew nor Olivia had had any experience caring for an infant, and they’d had nowhere to turn for help. He knew how loudly a baby could cry, how despondent a parent could feel … how one tiny life really could throw a monkey wrench into the best-laid plans. And his plans to buy Jimmy Lane’s company were precarious at best. Despite the efforts of most of his staff, he knew nothing about the owner of Lane Works except that he was reclusive and demanding. That didn’t give Drew much to go on by way of figuring out how to handle him. So his “plan” was more like a guess.
“I’m sorry, but you having a baby here doesn’t work for me.”
Instead of the tears he’d expected, Gwen McKenzie shook her head and said, “No kidding.”
He gaped at her. Had she just sassed him? Yes, she had. He’d already had a lifetime share of sassing this morning. So his voice shivered with barely controlled anger when he said, “Get your things and leave.”
She rose from the chair. “Fine, but I would think that a guy who can’t get along with his son would like having another parent around for some help and advice.”
An unexpected laugh escaped him. “You think you’re going to straighten out Brody?”
“Nope.” She headed for the door. “But I might have some ideas for how you could.”
He snorted in derision. “Right. You’ve been a parent now … what? All of two months?”
She turned and smiled. “Three. But I was sixteen only a few years ago. I think I might remember a bit more about what it was like than you do.”
Drew’s eyes narrowed and Gwen’s stomach shivered. She knew she should probably shut up, but he was in trouble with Brody and that seemed like her only angle to keep this job. Now that he’d shrugged out of the thick parka, she could not only see his expensive blue sweater, she could also see that the body he’d hidden beneath his jacket was incredible. Soft knit hugged his broad shoulders and flat tummy and stopped at trim hips encased in denim. He was handsome, rich, and he held her fate in his hands …
And she was taunting him? Was she crazy?
“Are you calling me old?”
She should be. She should think that a guy in his mid-thirties was way too old for her. She should think he was too grouchy for her. Instead, all she saw was a handsome, sexy guy who needed her help. And, strangely, even with as many problems as she had of her own, she actually thought she could provide it.
She lifted her chin. Caught his gaze. “No. I’m not calling you old.”
Their gazes clung. Time seemed to be suspended. She had a feeling she didn’t have to tell him she didn’t think he was old because she found him attractive. It was probably written all over her reddening face.
“But you do need me.”
He crossed his arms on his chest as his gaze rippled