need butter and raspberry jam. It’s the only way to eat them.’
He wrinkled his nose, watching as she flicked on the kettle.
‘And tea. Pancakes need tea.’
He grimaced. ‘You might be out of luck, then. I’ve only got extra-strong coffee.’
She waved a bag at him. ‘Just as well I brought my own, then.’
Dan served the pancakes onto two plates and carried them over to the table, pulling some syrup from his empty cupboards and lifting the brewing coffee pot. ‘I can’t tempt you, then?’
Something flickered in her eyes. Something else. Something different. She gave him a hesitant smile. ‘I’m an English girl. It’s tea and butter and jam all the way.’
They both knew that the flirtation was continuing.
And right now he wanted to tempt her. The cop in him wanted to forget about the mountain of paperwork he’d need to complete about this baby. The cop in him wanted to forget about the investigation that would have to be carried out.
The guy in him wanted to concentrate on the woman in the lovely blue sweater sitting at his table with her jar of raspberry jam. He wanted to reach over to touch the curls that were coiling around her face, springing free from the clip that was trying to hold them back. He wanted to see if he could say something to make her cheeks flush even pinker than they currently were. He wanted a chance to stare into those cornflower-blue eyes and ask her what she was hiding from him. What she was guarding herself from.
He lifted the maple syrup and squirted it onto his pancakes. She was concentrating on spreading butter on her pancakes smoothly and evenly with one hand while stirring her tea with the other hand.
He’d opened the blinds partly to let a little natural light into the apartment. And seeing Carrie McKenzie in the cold light of day was more than just a little shock to his system.
The girl was beautiful. From the little sprinkle of freckles over her nose to the way she wrinkled her brow when she was concentrating.
He’d felt a pull towards her last night, when he’d seen her in the dim lights of his apartment. But now he had a chance to look at her—to really look at her—and all he could think about was why on earth he hadn’t noticed her before.
How on earth could he have stayed in an apartment building with someone so incredibly pretty and not have noticed? He could just imagine the cops at the station if they ever got wind of that.
Carrie put a teaspoon into the jam jar and spread some jam onto her pancakes. ‘Are you going to watch me eat them, too?’ she asked, a smile spreading across her face.
He jerked backwards in his seat. ‘Sorry. I was just thinking.’
‘About Abraham?’
Wow. No, Abraham was the last thing he’d been thinking about, and as if in indignation there was a squawk from the crib. Dan set down his cutlery, gave a sigh and waved his hand at her as she went to stand up. ‘Stay where you are—you’re still eating. I’m finished. Maybe he’s hungry again. I sterilised the bottles so we should be fine.’
It was amazing how quickly you could learn to make a baby bottle. A few minutes later he lifted Abraham from the crib and settled him onto his shoulder for a bit.
‘Carrie? Does he look okay to you? What do you think about his colour?’
She set down her mug of tea and walked over. ‘It’s kind of hard to tell.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘We don’t really know anything about the ethnicity of his parents, so I’m not entirely sure what normal will look like for him.’
She walked over to the window and pulled the blinds up completely. ‘Bring him over here so I can get a better look at him.’
Dan carried him over and they stood for a few seconds looking at him in the daylight. ‘He looks a tiny bit yellow, don’t you think?’
She nodded. ‘Jaundice. Isn’t it supposed to be quite common in newborns?’
He gave her that smile again. The why-are-you-asking-me-something-I-couldn’t-possibly-know smile.
They both glanced at the computer. Carrie took a few seconds to punch in the words and then—nothing.
She turned towards him. ‘Looks like your internet has just died.’
‘Really? It’s usually really reliable. Must be the weather.’
She stared out the window. ‘It must be something to do with the snow. I hope the power supply doesn’t get hokey. That sometimes happens in storms back home.’
He looked at her with an amused expression on his face. ‘Hokey?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘What? It’s a word.’
‘Really? Where?’
She gave him a sarcastic smile. ‘I’d look it up for you online but your internet is down.’
‘Ha-ha. Seriously—what are we going to do about Abraham? Do you think it’s dangerous? I mean, he’s drinking okay and—’ he wrinkled his nose ‘—he certainly knows how to poo.’
She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Really? Again? Then maybe you should phone a friend. It’s a bit like the blind leading the blind here. I guess you’ll need to phone Shana. There really isn’t anyone else we can ask.’
He gave her a smile as he walked over to put Abraham on the dark towel to change him. He could only imagine the chaos going on at Angel’s Children’s Hospital right now. Last thing he wanted to do was add to Shana’s headache. But he wanted to make sure that Abraham was safe in his care. Screamer or not, he wanted to do the best he could for this baby.
‘Do you think this is how all new parents feel? As if they don’t know anything at all?’
Carrie turned her back and walked over to the countertop, picking up her mug of tea. Trying to find the words that would counteract the tight feeling in her chest. She was trying so hard. So hard not to let these things creep up on her. Then—out of the blue—some random comment would just cut her in two.
She set her mouth in a straight line. ‘Most new parents would have a whole host of textbooks or family to ask—we don’t.’
He pulled his mobile from his pocket. ‘I guess I’ll phone Shana, then.’ He dialled the number and waited for Shana to be paged, pressing the button to put her on speakerphone as he wrestled with Abraham’s nappy.
‘What?’
Not good. She sounded snarky. ‘Shana, it’s Dan.’
‘Is the baby okay?’ Straight to the point as usual. Did she ever stop—just for a second?
He took a deep breath. ‘We’re not sure. Abraham looks kinda yellow. Carrie thinks he might be jaundiced.’
‘Who is Abraham?’
‘The baby. Who did you think I was asking about?’
‘Oh, so you’ve given him a name. Abraham—I like it.’
‘I’m glad I’ve got your approval. What about his colour?’
‘More common in breastfed babies—but not unusual. It could be jaundice.’ It was clear she was thinking out loud. ‘Could be serious if it’s appeared within twenty-four hours of birth—but then we don’t know that, do we?’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Ideally, I’d like to check him over and draw some blood.’
‘Well, that’s not gonna happen any time soon. What should we do in the meantime?’
‘Monitor him—I mean, watch him. Make sure he feeds regularly and he’s not too sleepy. Don’t be afraid to wake him up to feed him. Let him get some natural