He bounced out of the chair. “So do we take him down to breakfast with us or what?”
“Is there a high chair by the table?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I think we should keep him with us.”
“Okay.”
After all the time he’d already spent with the baby, Darius didn’t feel uncomfortable holding Gino, but that in itself was odd. The powerful feeling he’d had the night before came back full force. Sacred, reverent, it squeezed his heart and made breathing difficult.
Since his father’s death, everything had happened so fast that he hadn’t had time to think anything through.
But suddenly everything seemed so real. He had a child to raise, responsibilities beyond money and food. This kid would take up his time, change his morning routine, break into his afternoons, want his evenings. The understanding of what he’d taken on was so overwhelming that he felt as though he needed a minute.
He held Gino out to Whitney. “Could you hold him while I grab some shoes?”
She hesitated and Darius nearly groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was give her the impression he didn’t want the task of caring for the baby. He wanted her to see his commitment.
“You know what? Never mind. I’ll take him into my bedroom with me.”
To his surprise, Whitney smiled. “And what will you do with him while you’re putting on your shoes?”
He sucked in a breath. “Good question.”
She took Gino from him. “Go get your shoes.”
Relief poured through him. He raced into his bedroom, slid into socks and shoes and was back in the nursery in less than two minutes.
Noting that Gino was in the playpen, he frowned. “Ready for breakfast?”
“Yes.” She reached down and lifted Gino out of the playpen, then handed him to Darius casually, smoothly, but as he took the little boy, she wouldn’t look at him.
He hadn’t expected her to put Gino in the playpen or to immediately pass him back when he returned from getting his shoes. But her not being able to look at him was actually more perplexing.
The night before, he’d walked away from the opportunity to kiss her without any hesitation, even though she was throwing off you-can-kiss-me signals. He’d hoped that walking away would show her that even though he was attracted to her, he didn’t intend to follow through. Yet she still behaved in an overly cautious manner around him.
She strode to the door as if nothing were amiss and held it open while he came through with the baby. Following her down the steps, he stared at her stiff back. He’d never met a woman who was so hot one minute and so cold the next. It was almost as if she could turn her emotions off.
Which, in some ways, was good. They didn’t want to be attracted to each other. It didn’t work for either of them. And he was turning off his feelings for her every bit as much.
So why did it bother him?
In the breakfast room, which was actually one of several sunrooms along the east wall of the house, she took the tray off the high chair and instructed Darius to set the baby on the seat.
“But don’t let go,” she said, rummaging along the edges of the seat until she found what looked like seat-belts. “We have to buckle him in.”
“Got it,” Darius said, eager to learn. Especially when she didn’t even seem to realize she was giving him lessons.
Another good reason to persuade her to live here with him permanently, not just for a few weeks.
Cook entered the sunroom with coffee and asked what each would like to eat. Darius ordered pancakes. Whitney chose a bagel and cream cheese.
“And should I make the baby’s cereal?”
Darius glanced over at Whitney, who winced. “Wow. It’s been so long since I was around a baby that I forgot that some kids start eating cereal around six months or so.”
Cook proudly said, “He’s been eating cereal for a few weeks now.”
“Then get us the cereal.” She faced Darius. “Sorry about that.”
“Hey, I didn’t even know babies ate cereal.”
Cook walked in with a small bowl and a tiny baby spoon. As if recognizing his bowl, the baby slapped his hands on the tray. Cook handed the bowl and spoon to Darius who set them on the table then edged his seat closer to the high chair.
He didn’t even consider opting out of learning how to feed Gino. He wanted to know everything. “So you’re ready for this, huh?”
Gino screeched with joy.
Whitney said, “Just put a little bit of cereal on the spoon and very easily guide it to his mouth.”
Darius did as instructed. Gino greedily took the bit of cereal and smacked his lips. The second bite was a little messier, but Darius just used common sense about getting the spoon and the cereal into Gino’s mouth. After a few spoonfuls, when Gino tried to blow bubbles with it instead of eating it, Darius knew he wasn’t hungry anymore.
“If you’re playing in it rather than eating, I’m guessing you’re done.”
As he set the spoon down, Mrs. Tucker walked in. “Cook didn’t want to start your breakfast until you were free to eat it. So, I thought I’d take Gino upstairs and play with him a bit. I’ll walk through the kitchen to let Cook know she can make your breakfast now.”
Darius rose and helped her get the baby out of the high chair. “Sounds good.”
When she left, the little room fell silent.
Finally, Whitney said, “It’s beautiful here.”
Darius looked out at the steel-gray ocean, the deceptively blue sky. Though the day seemed calm, he knew winds off the sea would make it freezing cold out there. “Yes. I’d forgotten.”
“Did you come here often?”
“After I turned eighteen I did.”
“Why do I get the feeling you were forced?”
Her perceptiveness made him wince. “Because I was. My father gave me access to a five-million-dollar trust fund when I turned eighteen. He told me it was mine but he wanted me to go to college and work for Andreas Holdings. He hadn’t as much as visited after he left my mom, then suddenly he was in my life, ordering me around. Our time here wasn’t always pleasant.”
She toyed with a salt shaker. “I liked your dad.”
He laughed as Cook brought in his pancakes and Whitney’s bagel. When she was gone, he reached for the maple syrup and said, “Most people who didn’t have my dad for a lover or a parent did like him.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s probably true.”
Surprised by her answer, he set the maple syrup on the table. “I thought for sure you’d sing his praises.”
She snorted a laugh. “I know what it’s like to deal with a person who has a public personality and a private one. I had a husband everybody loved.”
His brows rose. So she’d been married? He hadn’t even considered the possibility since she’d kept the last name Ross. But having been married, maybe even having been hurt by a divorce, might explain why she was so nervous around him.
Better than that, though, she’d opened the door for him to question her about her past. He’d been so focused on the baby that he hadn’t really given much thought to the woman who shared custody beyond asking why Missy had chosen her.
Pretending great interest in his coffee, he said, “Everybody loved your husband but