She had taken one step when Mrs. Baxter called a halt to her cowardly retreat. “Alix, someone special’s here to see you.”
Chelsie had nowhere to run or hide. Reluctantly, she turned back again.
“She doesn’t let that book you brought her out of her sight,” the woman said, a kind smile etching her features.
“Oh.” Chelsie’s legs felt wobbly. She’d passed the point where she could exit gracefully. Drawing a deep breath, she followed Mrs. Baxter into the kitchen. She only hoped Griff’s mood was brighter than her own.
“I said eat it, don’t throw it.”
Chelsie stopped in the doorway and stared in disbelief as Griff wiped mashed potatoes off his face and shirt collar.
“Let’s try this again, squirt.” He scooped up another spoonful and attempted to feed Alix, who grabbed his hand mid-air, frustrating his efforts. “I’m warning you. The next time the food misses your stomach, it goes in the garbage.”
Chelsie knew, just as Griff probably did, that reasoning with a two year old was as futile as reasoning with a stubborn client. Still, watching him attempt just that with more patience than she would have believed he possessed, endeared him to her at once. The bachelor with the carefree reputation had managed to surprise and impress her yet again.
The spoonful reached the little girl’s mouth, but instead of swallowing, Alix grinned and squirted the food back through her lips. Griff groaned, tossing a towel on the high chair in a gesture of defeat. “I give up. If you’re pulling these stunts, you can’t be hungry.”
Chelsie suppressed the urge to laugh at the way the child had manipulated the man.
“Mrs. Baxter.” He didn’t call quietly, he bellowed.
“Right here, Mr. Stuart.” He whirled around at the sound of the older woman’s soft-spoken voice.
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I know. You were otherwise engaged.”
“Would you mind cleaning her up while I work on myself?”
Nothing short of a shower would help, Chelsie thought. Without warning, images of a strong body and rivulets of water dripping over naked skin invaded her mind. She attempted to push aside the sensual images she’d evoked, but Griff hindered her effort.
Though he still wore trousers from his day at work, he’d stripped to his T-shirt giving Chelsie a glimpse of muscles that flexed with each movement. She remembered the feel of those hard muscles beneath her fingertips. She had a hard time tearing her gaze from the sight and wished he hadn’t chosen to save his shirt and tie from the little girl’s perfect aim.
“I’d like to see her eat more,” Mrs. Baxter said. Griff nodded in agreement
Nothing could have distracted Chelsie faster than the chaos before her. She focused on her niece, who was no more cooperative with her baby-sitter than she’d been with her uncle.
The little girl’s lips remained tightly closed. Mrs. Baxter and Griff exchanged frustrated looks. Because of Alix, the older woman had forgotten Chelsie’s presence. She stood in the entryway and enjoyed the show. She hadn’t wanted to call attention to herself any sooner than necessary, but the residents of this house obviously needed help. This adorable but feisty child knew which buttons to push on each adult to get her way.
“Maybe I could give it a try,” Chelsie said.
“How did you get in?” Griff turned around as he spoke.
“Well, good evening to you, too.” Undaunted, she walked over to where Alix sat, rubbing the potatoes and whatever else had been made for dinner into her high-chair tray.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. Mr. Stuart, Miss Russell is here to see you and Alix.”
“I realize that now.” Griff smiled at the older woman, putting her at ease. “Why don’t you call it a day?” He spoke to Mrs. Baxter, but looked at Chelsie. “Miss Russell and I can take things from here. Can’t we?”
His direct gaze unnerved her. Alix’s antics had distracted her from the purpose of this visit, but Griff brought her smack into reality. The man had a way of doing that to her in more ways than one.
Mrs. Baxter hesitated. “If you’re sure.”
“We’re sure,” they answered in unison. Chelsie didn’t want an audience for round three with Griffin Stuart.
After kissing Alix good night, the older woman headed for her room.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.” He handed Chelsie a sticky bowl and gestured to the child in the high chair.
She accepted the challenge in silence. As the evening wore on, Chelsie not only coaxed Alix to finish her meal, but got her to behave in the bath. A silent agreement had been reached. All that remained was for them to work out the details. Regardless of the specifics, however, she intended to draw an imaginary boundary, one she wouldn’t cross no matter what the circumstances.