Suzanne McMinn - The Billionaire And The Bassinet

Lanie thought about going to the backyard and dragging the sheets off the line, hauling them upstairs and making up the bed, then greeting the guests with the customary refreshments. Her feet, her knees, her hips—every place where the baby’s weight put unaccustomed pressure—ached like she carried a two-ton truck instead of a tiny human being.

She wanted nothing more than to drop into bed and let someone help her. But it wasn’t safe for Garrett Blakemore to be that someone. She knew that.

But she said, “All right,” anyway.

Garrett knocked lightly on the closed door to Lanie’s bedroom. “Lanie?”

“Come in,” she called.

He poked his head around the doorjamb in time to see her sitting up in bed, a fat pillow propped behind her back. She was still dressed, her long legs stretched out on a colorful quilt decorated in a pattern of interlocking rings. A white lace curtain blew softly at the open window, bringing the warm afternoon inside.

Despite the obvious reluctance with which she’d agreed to let him help her out for the evening, she’d acquiesced with surprising ease when he’d insisted she go straight upstairs to rest. He knew this was more likely an indication of the true state of her exhaustion than any sign of surrender on her part.

She’d given him brief instructions about making up two rooms with sheets from the line outside, and had explained where to find the refreshments she had prepared She’d asked him to call her when the guests arrived so she could come down to greet them. But before he tended to any of the other preparations, he’d decided to fix her something to eat.

“I brought you a sandwich and a glass of milk,” Garret said. He came around the side of the antique spool bed and placed a tray on the end table near her. Her wary gaze never left him. “And some cookies.” He held out the glass of milk.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Surprise widened her eyes as she took in the tray.

“Of course I should have,” Garrett said. Her aversion to his assistance was really starting to annoy him.

He kept holding out the glass, and she finally took it, her slender fingers lightly brushing his in the exchange. A small electrical charge zinged up Garrett’s arm, filtering through his irritation.

He backed up slightly in reaction, putting a little distance between himself and Lanie. It was just the oddness of being in her bedroom, he told himself. The situation was overly intimate, considering they’d only known each other a few hours.

“I don’t want you waiting on me,” Lanie protested. She set the glass down on the tray.

Garrett shrugged. “It’s just a little something to eat. It’s not a big deal. You need to keep up your strength.”

She looked wan, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like how it made him feel. He didn’t like how he was worrying about this woman he’d only just met and had no reason to trust or even like.

Of course, he reminded himself, he did have one good reason for caring. The sooner she rested up, the sooner he could tackle the business at hand—getting her to agree to come back to Austin with him. He worked to focus on the reason he was in Deer Creek, and to forget how pale and defenseless Lame looked, propped in bed, surrounded by all this soft lace and patchwork simplicity.

The scene was a false picture, making her seem more maternal than small-town schemer. The whole setup was what was throwing him off balance, he decided. The sooner he got out of her bedroom, the better.

He strode to the door, determined to get the sheets and make up the guest rooms. And put as much distance as he possibly could between himself and Lanie’s sweet, vulnerable eyes.

“Garrett?”

He stopped in the doorway and turned to look at her. She chewed her lip, hesitating, the glow from the sunset lighting her fine features. Her hands moved over the rounding of her belly in a seemingly unconscious gesture.

Garrett’s gaze followed the movement of her hands, lured by the slow caressing motion that spoke of tender care for her unborn child. He wondered if the baby was moving, what it would feel like to place his hand there and feel the tiny life inside her kick....

He jerked his attention back to her face. “What?” he prompted curtly. He really needed to get out of her bedroom.

“I—uh...” She glanced at the tray, then back at him. She bit her lip again. “Thank you,” she said finally, as if the words came with great difficulty. “I hope I didn’t sound rude. I didn’t mean to.”

She sounded so sincere. Her hand moved over her stomach again. The light from the window settled around her like a halo.

Garrett swallowed tightly. “No problem,” he answered, and made good his escape.

Lanie watched Garrett through her open window as he crossed the backyard, heading for the clothesline. The curtains fluttered about as the light breeze infused a warm, comfortable breath of fresh air into the room. She took a big gulp of it. She needed it. She needed something, anyway—something to stop her from making a complete and total fool of herself.

She felt touched by Garrett’s thoughtfulness in bringing her supper. He’d even brought her cookies. It was such a simple yet considerate gesture. The sort of gesture she wouldn’t have expected from the hard, cold businessman who’d all but accused her of trying to defraud his uncle.

Lanie tensed at the thought. The whole thing was so insulting. Why was Garrett really so intent on helping her this evening? Out of the goodness of his heart?

Fat chance of that! She blew out a frustrated breath. His help—and his suppers—were part of his plan to manipulate her into going back to Austin with him.

She should have thrown the supper tray right back in his face.

She eyed the meal in front of her. She was hungry, and she didn’t see anything to be gained by not eating. After all, she’d need her strength if she was going to resist his power plays.

And there was no point wasting perfectly good cookies, was there?

Picking up the sandwich first, she took a bite and narrowed her gaze on her adversary. He’d rolled his sleeves up and begun tearing sheets down.

The muscles of his arms flexed in the sun as he reached upward. Lanie stared for long seconds before swallowing the bite of sandwich, then forcibly ripped her gaze from the sight in her yard. She took a swig of cold milk. Really, what was wrong with her? She was practically ogling the man.

She couldn’t believe now she’d ever mistaken him for Ben. He was nothing like Ben. It was more than the subtle physical differences. There was something so serious, so earnest about Garrett.

Ben had been funny and exciting—in the beginning. They’d had a whirlwind courtship. He’d dared her out of her quiet life. Her quiet rut, as her grandmother who’d raised her used to say. She’d known Ben was marrying her over his wealthy father’s objections, but he was determined and had insisted his father would come around. He said he wanted to get married and help her rebuild the bed-and-breakfast business she’d recently inherited after her grandmother’s death.

Even though her grandmother was gone, Lanie could still hear her nagging. Life is short, live while you’re young, let your heart lead you.

And in a moment of uncharacteristic spontaneity, Lanie had let her heart lead her. She’d married Ben.

The disillusionment had come quickly. Walter Blakemore couldn’t accept his son’s abrupt marriage, or his decision to leave the family business. He’d underscored his unbending resolve by cutting Ben off financially. But that hadn’t been the worst of it. It was only after they’d married that Lanie finally understood what Ben’s power struggle with his father was all about. He wanted his father’s love—and no matter how much love she gave him, it could never be enough, never make up for what his father had withheld from him his entire life.