Have Baby, Need Billionaire(21)

"Because sometimes you just can't, honey." Anna laughed. "Look at me! I   took that mural job Sam offered me because I needed the money. I even   told him to his face that I couldn't stand him! Now look where I   am … married and pregnant. Sometimes, the heart just wants what it wants   and you can't do anything to change it."

"Well, that's not fair at all."

"And so little is," Anna commiserated. "Now, back to my original   question with this phone call … do you still want me to come to the city   this weekend? Do the mural on Nathan's wall?"

Tula thought about that. Knew Simon would probably hate it-he of the   beige-with-cream-trim designing skills. Then Tula looked at the baby,   waving his little arms at the naked tree branches high overhead. And she   knew that if she couldn't be with him, then at least she could leave   behind a physical reminder of her presence. One that both Nathan and   Simon would see every day.

"Yeah, I do," Tula told her friend. "Nathan's room needs some brightening up."

"Great! I've already got some fabulous ideas."

"I trust you," Tula said, then added, "I've only got one request."

"What's that?"

"Paint in the Lonely Bunny somewhere, will you?" She reached out and   smoothed her fingertips along Nathan's cheek. "That way it will almost   be like I'm still here, watching over him. Even after I'm gone."

"Oh, sweetie … "

She heard the sympathy in her friend's voice and steeled herself against   it. Tula didn't want pity. In fact, she wasn't sure what exactly she   did want. Beyond Simon, of course, and that was never going to happen.



It would have been easier to seduce Tula if they hadn't already been to   bed only to have the fight that had left both of them furious.

But Simon was nothing if not determined.

He dismissed Mick's warnings that seemed to repeat over and over again   in his mind. After all, Mick was married. He and Katie had been together   since college. They fit together so well, it was hard to believe they   hadn't started out life joined at the hip. So how could his best friend   understand the tension, the stubborn refusal to back down once a   position was taken? How could he know anything about the sexual heat   that flared during an argument?

How could he ever understand the enmity Simon felt for the Hawthorne family?

Simon knew exactly what he was doing-as he always did. And the fact that Mick disagreed wasn't going to stop him.

This plan of his was going to kill two birds with one impressive stone,   he told himself. Not only would he be able to indulge himself with   Tula-something he hadn't been able to stop thinking of-but he'd also   have the revenge on her father that he had been dreaming of for three   years. It would absolutely fry that old man when he found out that his   daughter had been in Simon's bed.

But first things first. Before his plan could get into motion, Simon had   to start making arrangements for when he had custody of Nathan. He   wouldn't have Tula to care for the baby while he was at work, so he   would need someone responsible for the job.                       
       
           



       

He didn't let himself think about the fact that when that day came, Tula would be out of their lives.





Nine




An hour later, he was home early again and didn't even stop to admit   that since Tula had come into his life, he'd found less and less reason   for hanging around the company. Instead, he seemed to be drawn to this   old house and the woman inside it.

Simon found Tula in the backyard, watching Nathan squirm on a blanket   beneath the winter sun. She turned to look at him and he could actually   see her freeze up. A part of him regretted being the cause of that. He   was too accustomed to her easy smile and ready laugh. Seeing her so   wary, so cold, gave him a pause that none of Mick's not so subtle   warnings had managed to do.

But he reminded himself that she was a Hawthorne and had never bothered   to mention it. How much did he owe her anyway? Besides, he had a plan   now and once Simon picked a direction, he didn't deviate. That would   indicate that he doubted himself and he never did that.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he walked down the   flagstone steps that led to the landscaped yard. Each step was slow,   deliberately careless, letting her know that though she might be angry,   he was just fine.

Liar.

His brain shouted out that single word and he recognized the truth in it. But damned if he'd let her know.

"Isn't it a little cold out here for him?" Simon asked, nodding at the   boy who was wearing a shoulder-to-toes zip-up blanket sleeper.

"Fresh air's good for him," she said stiffly. She countered, "You're home early."

He grinned, pleased that she'd noticed. "I am. I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, can't wait," she said, sarcasm coloring her tone. "Our last conversation went so well."

Good, he told himself. She was still bothered. He liked knowing that   what they'd shared had hit her as hard as it had him. And more, he   wanted to share it all again. A lot.

He took a seat beside her on the blanket and hid a smile when she   scooted away a bit. As if she didn't trust herself too near him. He knew   just how she felt.

At the moment, all he really wanted to do was grab her and hold her and-

"What can you possibly have left to say that you didn't say last night?"

"Plenty," he admitted, drawing one knee up and resting his forearm on it.

"Let me guess," she said, her blue eyes snapping with banked fury.   "You've found a way to blame me for global warming? Or am I a spy of   some kind, sent to ferret out all of your secrets and feed them to your   enemies?"

He just stared at her. Was that last statement for show or was she   actually trying to tell him why she was really there? "Is that a   confession?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Simon," she snapped in a whispered hiss. "You   know darn well it's not. I'm just trying to guess how you'll insult me   next."

He wondered, but let it go for now. "As a matter of fact, I don't want   to talk about you at all," he said. "Now that we're committed to getting   me ready to take over custody of Nathan, we have to find a competent   nanny."

"A nanny?" she asked in the same tone she might have used to ask, You want to hire an axe murderer?

He nodded, pleased with her reaction. Even if he was confused about her   motivation for being there, with him, he knew for a fact that she loved   Nathan.

"I'll still have to work, so when you leave, I'll need someone here with   the baby. I think a live-in nanny would be the best way to go, don't   you?"

"I don't know," she said, glancing down at the babbling baby. "I hadn't   really thought about someone else caring for him on a day-to-day  basis."

Actually, Simon didn't much care for the idea of a stranger in his house   taking care of his son while he wasn't there. But he couldn't see any   way around it, either. No matter how his plan ended up working out,  Tula  wouldn't be here for him and Nathan to count on.

He really didn't like the thought of that, but refused to explore the reasons why.

"He can't go to work with me," Simon said abruptly, watching her reaction.

"No, I suppose not."

"Is there a problem?"

Her gaze flicked to his, fired for an instant, then cooled off again   until those beautiful blue eyes of hers shone like the surface of a   frozen lake. "No. No problem."

"Good," he said. "So I'll call the employment agency and have them send   people over. Are you interested in interviewing them or would you  prefer  I do it?"                       
       
           



       

She looked torn and he was forced to admit silently that he felt the   same way. Funny, this conversation about hiring a nanny didn't have   anything to do with his plan. It had only seemed like a reasonable way   for him to open communications with Tula again. Besides, theoretically, a   caretaker for Nathan had sounded accept able enough.

In practice though … looking down at his son-innocent, helpless, at the   mercy of whoever his father hired to look after him … it felt wrong,   somehow. Instantly, half-forgotten news reports flashed through his   mind, stories about nannies and babysitters and pre-schools, all of whom   were supposedly devoted care-givers. And how the children in their   charge had paid the price for their negligence or apathy.