Brett did most of the talking for the twins, but Brad was the quiet rebel. He had a small scar by his left eyebrow. The result of a close encounter with a coffee table when he’d been a toddler and both boys had been jumping on the sofa.
“Today is Lucinda’s day off,” she began.
“I’m aware of that.”
“Good.”
She walked forward and handed him Colton. The action was so unexpected that he found himself taking the baby and holding him awkwardly against his chest.
“I want to take a shower,” she announced. “So you need to watch Colton for me until I’m done. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”
He stiffened and held the baby out at arm’s length in front of him. “I can’t do that. What if he needs something?”
Colton began to fuss, which made Jonathan sweat.
“Don’t hold him like that,” Cynthia said, reaching over and drawing the baby close to his chest. “Cuddle him. Pretend he’s that big stuffed bear you brought me in the hospital.”
“Not likely. I don’t think you’d appreciate me leaving him propped up in the closet.”
She pressed her lips together. “You know exactly what I mean. Now he’s been fed and changed, so he’s not going to need anything specific in the next half hour. Just get to know him.”
She gave him a quick wave of her fingers, and then she was gone.
Jonathan stared down at the small child he held. Blue eyes so much like his own stared back at him.
“Now what?” he asked.
Colton didn’t answer. Instead he waved a plump hand in the air and made a cooing sound.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to let me read the paper, are you?” he asked conversationally.
Colton surprised him by smiling. Involuntarily Jonathan smiled back, then shifted the baby so that he nestled in the crook of his left arm. The placement felt awkward, but it mimicked what he’d seen Cynthia do dozens of times. Colton didn’t have high standards for his caretaker because he quickly relaxed and began a private baby game that required him to catch sight of his fingers, then waggle them in the air.
Jonathan looked at the boy. This living being was a part of his brother, David. David who had stolen from him and wanted him dead. Yet he wasn’t angry at Colton. He wasn’t anything at him. His lack of desire to be with the child was more about not knowing how to handle the situation than any avoidance based on emotion.
“Cynthia thinks it’s important that we bond,” he said.
Colton glanced up with interest.
“I thought we could wait until you’re older. You know, when you have something to say.”
Colton offered a gummy grin.
Jonathan knew that this infant was completely dependent. Without aid from the outside world, he would die in a matter of days. He, Jonathan, had once been this small and helpless. Smiling back at the baby he knew that he could never let anything happen to Colton. It wasn’t because of blood ties or any feelings, but because it would be wrong. He might be fifteen kinds of a bastard, but he wasn’t about to abandon his nephew.
Yet his father had turned his back on him. Without a second thought, the elder Steele had made Jonathan unwelcome in his own home. Not once, not even at the time of his death, had Jonathan’s father once recanted his position.
“I won’t do that to you,” he said quietly, gently touching the boy’s soft cheek. “I can’t promise to love you because love is a dangerous thing to feel. But I won’t make you unwelcome.”
As the baby seemed to like the sound of his voice, Jonathan picked up the business section he’d been perusing and began to read aloud.
Some time later Cynthia walked back into the dining room. She’d showered and changed into jeans and a shirt. The green-and-black plaid brought out the green in her eyes. Her hair hung loose around her face and a light touch of makeup accentuated her pretty features. The scent of fresh shampoo and soap teased him.
“It’s Sunday,” she announced, helping herself to coffee from the carafe in the center of the table. “I thought you might like to spend some time with Colton. Sort of a family thing. Although if you want me around to help with him, I’m happy to tag along.”
He had a sudden vision of the three of them on a picnic, like a scene out of a TV movie. Or maybe they could just spend the day quietly at home.
Cynthia sat across from him and smiled. As she picked up her cup of coffee, her shirt tightened slightly, outlining her breasts. The need to pull her close and kiss her nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. Even though she was off limits and completely wrong for him. Or maybe those were the reasons why she appealed. Because she was different. Because with her at least one of them could possibly give a damn about what was happening.
The realization that he might want Cynthia to care about him drove him to his feet. He lived alone. That was how he preferred it. No one got in the way; no one got close.
He thrust Colton at her across the table. “I’m not interested in playing house with you,” he said cruelly. “I want you to do your job, nothing more.”
He walked out of the dining room, then out of the house. He decided to go to work because he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.
But once at the office, he found he couldn’t concentrate. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t get lost in spreadsheets and projections. The words and numbers were meaningless. All he could see was the hurt in Cynthia’s eyes and the way she’d flinched from his words.
“I warned her,” he muttered to himself, but the phrase didn’t help. Nor did telling himself she would get over it.
He’d never allowed himself to play with anyone out of his league. He was careful to choose companions who understood, women like Martha Jean Porter. Slick, experienced and as coldly calculating as himself. His date with her was in less than a week. At least then he could take care of the ache that filled him. It was just an itch, he told himself, and she was the exact woman to scratch it.
Cynthia brushed away the tears on her cheeks and told herself she was a fool for crying over Jonathan Steele. “He’s your client, nothing else,” she reminded herself. They didn’t have a personal relationship.
But it had felt personal when he’d kissed her and again last night when he’d laughed and joked with her family. It had felt good and right and she’d allowed herself to make-believe that all this was real.
“But it’s not, is it?” she asked softly.
Colton gurgled, then reached for a loose strand of hair. She eased the lock from the baby’s grip and tried not to give in to more tears. “You’re not mine,” she said, holding the sweet-smelling baby close. “This is work and I mustn’t let myself care about you too much. Jonathan is going to get a permanent nanny and then I’ll be gone.”
But as she held the now-familiar weight of the happy child, she had a bad feeling that it was too late for this lecture to help much. Since moving into Jonathan’s house she’d been so caught up by the man himself, so concerned about the temptation to get close that she hadn’t thought to keep her heart safe from either him or his nephew. Now she was in danger of falling in love with both of them. To be honest, she didn’t know who it would be harder to leave.
The smart thing would be to walk away. She had several nannies working for her and any one of them would be a qualified replacement. Except her mother hadn’t raised her to be a quitter.
