An Unexpected Christmas Baby (The Daycare Chronicles 2)

She’d helped him.

He was supposed to help her.

Chapter Twelve

The baby cried.

Tamara sipped her wine, telling herself that whatever spell had bound her and Flint Collins had been broken.

He was still watching her.

“You need to go get her,” she said.

He nodded. “She has to be changed and then fed,” he agreed. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes. You want to set the table in the meantime? The lasagna is due to come out in about thirty.”

Could she do this? A flash of her father’s worried face assured her she could.

“I can do that,” she told him. She’d see if he had lettuce. She could make a salad. Salad went well with Italian food. And wine.

She had another sip.

Focus. That was all it took.

That and topping off the glass of wine Flint had poured for her. Two was her limit. Or she’d have to hang around an extra hour before she drove. She found dishes. Set the kitchen table because of the gorgeous view of the pool from the bay windows.

No. Because there’d be no view at all of the baby sleeping in the living room.

She hadn’t known that was where the playpen was until Diamond Rose started to cry. Then she’d had to fight to avoid looking at the room.

But...Flint needed to see the child. For his own sake and the baby’s.

Gathering up the dishes and silverware, Tamara moved them to the dining room, placing them so he could see the living room and her back was to it.

Yes, that worked fine.

And she made salad. Cutting the carrots, peeling a cucumber, chopping onion, tearing lettuce. She did it all with precise focus. When Flint’s voice broke through her concentration, soft and from a distance, she chopped with more force. The newborn cried once. Tamara replayed in her head the conversation she’d had with her father the day before.

Diamond Rose was a precious little baby who had nothing to do with her. Tamara wanted the best for her. Hoped to God that everything worked out so Flint could continue to care for his sister. If that was what was best.

And it seemed to be.

Flint was different from any other man she’d ever met. He had an emotional awareness she’d never seen in a male before—yet he was masculine and sexy and exuded strength at the same time.

In one conversation, and a sketchy one at best, he’d understood more about her emotional struggle than Steve had in all their years of marriage.

For the first time since she’d lost Ryan, she felt understood.

By a man who might be a thief.

And since her father wasn’t planning to press charges, because of the hit his reputation—and then the company—would take if investors knew he’d been frauded, Flint should be free to raise Diamond Rose.

“She’s back to sleep.”

A piece of lettuce flew out of her hand and onto the floor when she heard his voice behind her. Focus could do that to a girl—take her right out of her surroundings.

“That’s impressive.” He was smiling as he pointed to her neat piles of chopped vegetables.

“You make your own dressing?” She’d found four jars, with varying labels, lined up in the door of the refrigerator. She’d chosen the creamy Italian to mix in before serving their salads.