sensed rather than heard or saw Eve in the doorway. “She needed changing.”
She crossed to him. “You change diapers?” she asked incredulously.
He’d changed more than his share of Mona’s diapers. The knack was something akin to riding a bicycle. You never really forgot how—especially when plastic tabs were involved.
“It’s not exactly like changing water into wine,” he pointed out, glancing at her awed expression. “Anyone can do it if they need to.” Picking his daughter up off the changing table, he smoothed down her tiny dress and turned around to look at Eve. “There, I think we’ll all be a little more comfortable having her dirty diaper a thing of the past.”
Who would have thought he’d take to parenting better than she did? “You are full of surprises, Adam Smythe.” She didn’t bother to hide the admiration in her voice.
They were sharing a moment. It took a great deal of self-control not to tell her that his name wasn’t Smythe, but Serrano. But Adam managed to hold his piece and only commented, “You’d be surprised,” making certain that the proper smile was on his lips.
Not entirely. The stray thought popped up in her head, taunting her. She banked it down, refusing to let it bring her down. The man was trying, that was all that mattered.
Taking the baby from him, she pointed toward the hall and the stairs that were beyond. “I’d better feed her. You go ahead and have dinner. Brooklyn and I’ll be along as soon as she’s finished.”
“You know, if you prepare a few bottles ahead of time, we could take turns feeding her,” he suggested, turning from the doorway.
Eve was already sitting in the rocking chair holding Brooklyn to her breast. The infant eagerly suckled as if she hadn’t been fed for days instead of a little less than four hours ago.
Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever seen anything even remotely as beautiful.
Belatedly, he realized he was staring. Clearing his throat, he abruptly looked away, even though he would have been content just to stand there, watching the scene all evening.
“I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” he murmured to the bedroom door just before he left the room.
Eve smiled to herself. Again, his actions surprised her. Adam Smythe was a very complex individual, with a lot of different layers. And she was getting a lot of mixed signals here. How did she tell them apart? Just what was real and what was imagined?
More than anything, she wished she knew what to believe and just who and what Adam Smythe really was. But she didn’t see that happening anytime soon. And who knew? He might be gone tomorrow.
She tried to prepare herself, secretly hoping that tomorrow wouldn’t come for a very long time.
Within a week, they fell into a routine, one that Adam was loathe to give up or even change in the slightest manner. Every night he would come home to her, to them, and share both the responsibilities and the rewards of caring for Brooklyn. And for what it was worth, all three of them seemed to be thriving.
The weather had even cooperated, in a manner of speaking. An unexpected storm off the coast of Colombia had sent residents along the coast scrambling for their lives. More importantly, at least for Adam, was that the shipment of drugs loaded into the belly of an airplane bound for California had been lost when the plane suddenly went down.
With great bravado, Daniel Sederholm had insisted that another shipment could be on its way as quickly as within ten days. Though the setback had his handler’s teeth on edge, Adam had ten more days to enjoy this secret life he’d miraculously stumbled into. Ten more days to pretend that the world wouldn’t come knocking on his door, dragging him away at a moment’s notice.
Ten more days to watch his daughter grow and have both Brooklyn and her mother burrow their way even further into his heart.
As if they hadn’t deeply entrenched themselves there already.
“So I take it that he’s moved in?” Josiah asked Eve.
It was midafternoon and her self-appointed guardian angel had come by for a visit. Outside, his driver, Lucas, sat in his restored classic Mercedes, engrossed in the latest page-turner put out by the current darling of the bestseller list. Meanwhile, Josiah sat in Eve’s living room, quietly studying the young woman he regarded as another daughter over the rim of his teacup. Fragrant vanilla-flavored coffee wafted up to penetrate his senses, soothing him. He was flattered that she kept his coffee of choice on hand for his visits.
For his part, he’d been as patient as he could, giving Eve almost two weeks to settle into a routine before finally inviting himself over to see how she was doing. It had taken him exactly five minutes to deduce that his favorite veterinarian wasn’t tackling parenthood alone.
“Adam’s here temporarily,” Eve was quick to correct. Having poured herself a cup, as well, she sat down opposite Josiah.
“And you’re all right with that?” Josiah cocked his head slightly, as if that could help him assess the situation more clearly.
“I am.”
His eyes seemed to delve into hers, as if accessing her very thoughts. “You don’t mind that he plans to leave after a finite point?”
“Oh.” She’d thought Josiah was asking her how she was dealing with having Adam around, not if she minded the fact that he intended to leave in the near future. “To be honest, this is all still a little overwhelming for me. I’m not really thinking more than a few hours ahead at a time.”
He nodded. Whether she knew it or not, that was what she had him for. He had always been good at looking at the big picture. His former line of work called for it. Josiah moved forward on the sofa, creating a more intimate atmosphere. “How much do you know about this man, Eve?”
“I know he’s a good man.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she realized that she sounded defensive. She didn’t want to be defensive and hoped Josiah would come to the right conclusion about Adam on his own. “He gave me his life insurance policy to hang on to for safekeeping. He named Brooklyn as his beneficiary.”
Josiah nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Admirable.”
The word was polite, detached. “You don’t like him, do you?”
Because he knew he couldn’t say what she wanted to hear, Josiah avoided giving her a direct answer. “I’m not the one who counts here, Eve. And I’m just worried about you,” he admitted. “And, I suppose, I’m worried about myself, as well.”
Her eyebrows drew together into a puzzled line. “I don’t follow.”
“Well, if this Adam hurts you again—the way he did the last time,” Josiah emphasized, “I will be forced to have to kill him, and truthfully, the prospect of ‘doing time’ at my age is not exactly pleasant.”
Setting down her cup on the coffee table, Eve laughed. She leaned forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. “You won’t have to kill him, Josiah. He’s really nicer than you think.”
Thin, aristocratic shoulders rose and fell in a careless shrug. “What I think doesn’t matter.”
“What you think matters to me, Josiah,” she assured him. “You’ve always been like an uncle to me. If Adam does become a permanent part of my life,” she went on, constructing her sentences carefully, “I’d want the two of you to get along.” She abruptly remembered the holiday that was coming up. She really was living in a fog these days, Eve thought ruefully. “Tell you what. Thanksgiving is almost here. Why don’t you come over to my house for dinner and maybe, properly wined and dined, the two of you can do a little more than just try to stare each other down.”
Josiah looked at her, aghast. “But you can’t cook, Eve.”
“Why can’t I?” she asked,