English Girl in New York(7)

;In the basement.'

She let out a sigh. ;I don't get that about New York. Why does everyone  have their washing machine in the basement?' She waved her hands around.  ;You've plenty of room in here. Why isn't your washing machine in the  kitchen? Everyone in London has their washing machine in their flat. You  don't have to walk down miles of stairs to do the laundry.'         

     



 

;Worried about leaving your underwear unguarded?'

There it was again. That cheeky element coming out. He couldn't help it. She seemed so uptight at times.

Just as he suspected, a pink colour flooded her cheeks. He could almost  hear the ticking of her brain trying to find a way to change the subject  quickly.

She nodded over to the counter. ;We need to sterilise the bottles.'

;I think he gave me some tablets for that.' Dan started to root around in one of the bags.

;He probably did, but according to the internet the bottles would need  to be in the sterilising solution for thirty minutes. It only takes ten  minutes if we boil them. That way you can use the ready-made formula and  get it into him quicker.'

;What about one of these? Can we give him a pacifier in the meantime?'

Carrie shook her head. ;I think we need to sterilise them, too. And we  need to use only cooled boiled water with the powdered milk. But I've no  idea how long water takes to cool once you've boiled it. And I don't  know whether we should put the milk in the fridge or keep it at room  temperature-everyone seems to have a different opinion on the internet.'  She was getting more harassed by the second, the words rattling out of  her mouth and her face becoming more flushed. ;I told you-I'm not an  expert in all this. I have no idea what I'm doing!'

Something clenched in his stomach. He could sense the feelings overwhelming her, and he had a whole host of some himself.

Deep down, having a woman in his apartment-without an expiry date-was  freaking him out. But these weren't normal circumstances. He needed  Carrie McKenzie's help. He couldn't do this on his own and right now he  could sense she wanted to cut and run.

He was feeling a bit flustered himself. Flustered that some gorgeous  Brit was in his space. But this wasn't about him. This wasn't about  Daniel Cooper and the fact he liked his own space. This wasn't about the  fact his relationships only lasted a few months because he didn't want  anyone getting comfortable in his home-comfortable enough to start  asking questions. This was about a baby. A baby who needed help from two  people.

So, he did what his grandma had always taught him. Her voice echoed in  his head. You get the best out of people when you compliment them-when  you thank them for what they do.

He reached over and touched Carrie's hand. She was getting flustered  again, starting to get upset. ;Carrie McKenzie?' He kept his voice low.

;What?' she snapped at him.

Yep, he was right. Her eyes had a waterlogged sheen. She was just about to start crying.

He gave her hand a little squeeze. ;I think you're doing a great job.'

* * *

The world had just stopped because she wasn't really in it.

This was one of those crazy dreams. The kind that had your worst type of  nightmare and a knight in shining armour thrown in, too. The kind that  made no sense whatsoever.

She wasn't here. She wasn't awake.

Her earlier thought had been true. She was actually fast asleep on the  sofa upstairs. She would wake up in a few minutes and this would all be  over. This would all be something she could shrug off and forget about.

Except those dark brown eyes were still looking at her.

Still looking as if he understood a whole lot more than he was letting  on. As if he'd noticed the fact she was seconds away from cracking and  bursting into floods of tears.

But he couldn't, could he? Because he didn't really know her at all.

Daniel Cooper was an all-action New York cop. The kind of guy from a  romance movie who stole the heroine's heart and rode off into the sunset  with her. A good guy.

The kind of guy who looked after an abandoned baby.

She was trying to swallow. Her mouth was drier than a desert, and it  felt as if a giant turtle had started nesting at the back of her throat.

She looked down to where his hand covered hers. It was nice. It felt nice.

And that was the thing that scared her most.

When was the last time someone had touched her like that? At the  funeral? There had been a lot of hand squeezing then. Comfort.  Reassurance. Pity.

Not the same as this.

He smiled at her. A crooked kind of smile, revealing straight white teeth.

A sexy kind of smile. The kind that could take her mind off the nightmare she was currently in.

There was a yelp from the towel. Dan moved his hand and looked down. ;I  guess baby's getting hungry. I'll stick the bottles in the pot.'

Carrie left the baby on the towel and started to look through the bags  on the counter. Five prepacked cartons of formula, two different kinds  of powder, more dummies and a whole mountain's worth of baby wipes.         

     



 

She folded her arms across her chest as she watched Dan dangle the  bottles and teats from his fingertips into the boiling water. ;Clothes,  Dan. What are we going to put on him?'

His brow wrinkled and he shook his head. ;Darn it, I knew I'd forgotten  something. There weren't any baby clothes in the general store, and  there's no place else around here that sells any. Can't we just leave  him in the diaper?'

Carrie shook her head. ;Want me to do a search on that?' She started to  pace. ;Don't you know anyone around here with kids who might still have  some baby clothes? How long have you stayed here?'

He blinked and his lips thinned. As if he was trying to decide how to  answer the question. He averted his eyes and started busying himself  with the coffee maker. ;I've lived here on and off my whole life. This  was my grandma's place.'

;Was it?' She was surprised but it made perfect sense. After all, how  did a young guy on a cop's salary afford a gorgeous brownstone West  Village apartment? She looked around, starting to take in the decor of  the place. There were a few older items that didn't look quite ;him'. A  rocker pushed in the corner near the window, a small antique-style table  just at the front door, currently collecting mail and keys, a dresser  in the more modern-style kitchen. It was kind of nice, to see the old  mixed in with the new. ;It's a lovely place. Big, too. You're a lucky  guy.'

He made a noise. More like a snort. ;Yeah, I guess. Just born lucky, me.'

Carrie froze, not really knowing how to respond. What did that mean?

But he must have realised his faux pas because he changed the subject  quickly. ;The ten minutes will be up soon. Once we've fed the little guy  I'll go on up to Mrs Van Dyke's place. Her family used to stay here.  She might have some things in storage we could use.'

;Mrs Van Dyke? Which one is she? Is she the one on the second floor who  looks as if she came over on the Mayflower and is about six hundred  years old?'

He raised his eyebrows. ;Watch it. According to her, her family were  amongst the original Dutch settlers. And I don't think she's quite six  hundred years old. She's as sharp as a stick, and she hasn't aged in the  past twenty-five years.' He gave her a wink as he switched off the  burner. ;Maybe you should ask her what cream she uses.'

Carrie picked up an unopened packet of pacifiers and tossed them at his head. They bounced off the wall behind him.

;Careful, careful, we've got a baby in the apartment. We don't want  anything to hit him.' He glanced at his watch. ;On second thought, it's  getting kind of late. Maybe it's too late to go knocking on Mrs Van  Dyke's door.' His gaze was still fixed on the baby, lying on the floor,  grizzling impatiently for his milk.

Carrie folded her arms as she stood next to him. ;You've got to be  kidding. Mrs Van Dyke is up watching TV until four a.m. most nights. And  I take it she's getting a little deaf, because I can't get to sleep in  my apartment because of the Diagnosis Murder or Murder, She Wrote reruns  that I hear booming across the hall. Seriously, the woman needs a  hearing aid.'

;And seriously? She'll be far too proud to get one.'

There was something nice about that. The fact that he knew his elderly  neighbour so well that he could tell exactly why she didn't have a  hearing aid. ;So what was wrong with me, then?' She couldn't help it.  The words just spilled out.

;What do you mean?'

;You obviously know your other neighbours well, but it was too much trouble to even say hello to me in the foyer.'

The colour flooded into his cheeks. Unflappable Dan was finally  flapping. He could deal with a tonne of snow falling from a roof, he  could deal with a baby dumped on his doorstep, but this? This was making  him avert his eyes and struggle to find some words.

;Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I just assumed you were staying for only a  few days. Most of the others seemed like ships that pass in the night.'

;I've been here two months, Dan. Eight long weeks-' she let out a little  sigh ;-and to be honest, this isn't the friendliest place I've ever  stayed.'

He cringed. ;I can hear my grandmother shouting in my ear right now.  Shaming me on my bad manners. I did see you-but you always looked like  you had a hundred and one things on your mind. You never really looked  in the mood to talk.'