Have Baby, Need Billionaire(6)

       
           



       

-Irritating.

"Yes, I'm going to speak," he said, annoyed to have been caught watching   her so intently. "As a matter of fact, I have a lot to say."

"Good, me too!" She stood up, took the baby from him before he could   even begin to protest-not that he would have-and set the small boy back   in his high chair. Once she had the safety straps fastened, she shot   Simon a quick smile.

"I thought we could talk while we have dinner. I made chicken and I'm a good cook."

"Another truth?"

"Try it for yourself and see."

"All right. Thank you."

"See, we're getting along great already." She moved around the kitchen   with an economy of motions. Not surprising, Simon thought, since there   wasn't much floor space to maneuver around.

"Tell me about yourself, Simon," she said and reached over to place some   sliced bananas on the baby's food tray. Instantly, Nathan chortled,   grabbed one of the pieces of fruit and squished it in his fist.

"He's not eating that," Simon pointed out while she walked over to take the roast chicken out of the oven.

"He likes playing with it."

Simon took a whiff of the tantalizing, scented steam wafting from the   oven and had to force himself to say, "He shouldn't play with his food   though."

She swiveled her head to look at him. "He's a baby."

"Yes, but-"

"Well, all of my cloth napkins are in the laundry and they don't make tuxedos in size six-to-nine months."

He frowned at her. She'd deliberately misinterpreted what he was saying.

"Relax, Simon. He's fine. I promise you he won't smoosh his bananas when he's in college."

She was right, of course, which he didn't really enjoy admitting. But he   wasn't used to people arguing with him, either. He was more accustomed   to people rushing to please him. To anticipate his every need. He was   not used to being corrected and he didn't much like it.

As that thought raced through his head, he winced. God, he sounded like an arrogant prig even in his own mind.

"So, you were saying … "

"Hmm?" he asked. "What?"

"You were telling me about yourself," she prodded as she got down   plates, wineglasses and then delved into a drawer for silverware. She   had the table set before he gathered his thoughts again.

"What is it you want to know?"

"Well, for instance, how did you meet Nathan's mother? I mean, Sherry   was my cousin and I've got to say, you're not her usual type."

"Really?" He turned on the spindly seat and looked at her. "Just what type am I then?"

"Geez, touchy," she said, her smile flashing briefly. "I only meant that   you don't look like an accountant or a computer genius."

"Thanks, I think."

"Oh, I'm sure there are attractive accountants and computer wizards, but   Sherry never found any." She carried a platter to the counter and  began  to slice the roast chicken, laying thick wedges of still-steaming  meat  on the flowered china. "So how did you meet?"

Simon bristled and distracted himself by pulling bits of banana out of the baby's hair. "Does it matter?"

"No," she said. "I was just curious."

"I'd rather not talk about it." He'd made a mistake that hadn't been   repeated and it wasn't something he felt like sharing. Especially with   this woman. No doubt she'd laugh or give him that sad, sympathy-filled   smile again and he wasn't in the mood.

"Okay," she said, drawing that one word out into three or four syllables. "Then how long were the two of you together?"

Irritation was still fresh enough to make his tone sharper than he'd planned. "Are you writing a book?"

She blinked at him in surprise. "No, but Sherry was my cousin, Nathan's   my nephew and you're my … well, there's a relationship in there  somewhere.  I'm just trying to pin it down."

And he was overreacting. It had been a long time since Simon had felt   off balance. But since the moment Tula had stepped into his office,   nothing in his world had steadied. He watched her as she moved to the   stove, scooped mashed potatoes into a bowl and then filled a smaller   dish with dark green broccoli. She carried everything to the table and   asked him to pour the wine.

He did, pleased at the label on the chardonnay. When they each had full   glasses, he tipped his toward her. "I'm not trying to make things   harder, but this has been a hell-" he caught himself and glanced at the   baby "-heck of a surprise. And I don't much like surprises."                       
       
           



       

"I'm getting that," she said, reaching out to grab the jar of baby food   she'd opened and left on the table. As she spooned what looked like   horrific mush into Nathan's open mouth, she asked again, "So how long   were you and Sherry together?"

He took a sip of wine. "Not giving up on this, are you?"

"Nope."

He had to admire her persistence, if nothing else.

"Two weeks," he admitted. "She was a nice woman but she-we-didn't work out."

Sighing, Tula nodded. "Sounds like Sherry. She never did stay with any   one guy for long." Her voice softened in memory. "She was scared. Scared   of making a mistake, picking the wrong man, but scared of being alone,   too. She was scared-well, of pretty much everything."

That he remembered very well, too, Simon thought. Images of the woman   he'd known in the past were hazy, but recollections of what he'd felt at   the time were fairly clear. He remembered feeling trapped by the   woman's clinginess, by her need for more than he could offer. By the   damp anxiety always shining in her eyes.

Now, he felt … not guilt, precisely, but maybe regret. He'd cut her out of   his life neatly, never looking back while she had gone on to carry his   child and give birth. It occurred to him that he'd done the same thing   with any number of women in his past. Once their time together was at  an  end, he presented them with a small piece of jewelry as a token and   then he moved on. This was the first time that his routine had come  back  to bite him in the ass.

"I didn't know her well," he said when the silence became too heavy. "And I had no idea she was pregnant."

"I know that," Tula told him with a shake of her head. "Not telling you   was Sherry's choice and for what it's worth, I think she was wrong."

"On that, we can agree." He took another sip of the dry white wine.

"Please," she said, motioning to the food on the table, "eat. I will, too, in between feeding the baby these carrots."

"Is that what that is?" The baby seemed to like the stuff, but as far as   Simon was concerned, the practically neon orange baby food looked   hideous. Didn't smell much better.

She laughed a little at the face he was making. "Yeah, I know. Looks   gross, doesn't it? Once I get into the swing of having him around,   though, I'm going to go for more organic stuff. Make my own baby food.   Get a nice blender and then he won't have to eat this stuff anymore."

"You'll make your own?"

"Why not? I like to cook and then I can fix him fresh vegetables and   meat-pretty much whatever I'm having, only mushy." She shrugged as if   the extra effort she was talking about meant nothing. "Besides, have you   ever read a list of ingredients on baby food jars?"

"Not recently," he said wryly.

"Well, I have. There's too much sodium for one thing. And some of the   words I can't even pronounce. That can't be good for tiny babies."

All right, Simon thought, he admired that as well. She had already   adapted to the baby being in her life. Something that he was going to   have to work at. But he would do it. He'd never failed yet when he went   after something he wanted.

He took a bite of chicken and nearly sighed aloud. So she was not only sexy and good with kids, she could cook, too.

"Good?"

Simon looked at her. "Amazing."

"Thanks!" She beamed at him, gave Nathan a few more pieces of banana and   then helped herself to her own dinner. After a moment or two of   companionable quiet, she asked, "So, what are we going to do about our   new 'situation'?"

"I took the will to my lawyer," Simon said.

"Of course you did."

He nodded. "You're temporarily in charge … "

"Which you don't like," she added.

Simon ignored her interruption, preferring to get everything out in the   open under his own terms. "Until you decide when and if I'm ready to   take over care of Nathan."