Michelle Douglas - A Baby In His In-Tray

She moved the baby carrier to the other hand. ‘Hello?’

‘Who are you calling for?’

Sebastian came bustling in behind her. He set her bag, two of Jemima’s bags and the portable cot that Jemima refused to sleep in down on the floor. His suitcase and several other bags still stood on the footpath.

‘I... Your staff. I didn’t want the appearance of a strange woman with a baby to make anyone nervous.’

‘I don’t have staff.’

He turned and headed back outside to collect the rest of their bags.

She could feel her eyes start from their sockets. What did he mean, he didn’t have staff?

‘Mrs Wilson comes in three days a week to clean,’ he said, when he came back in. ‘But I have no live-in staff.’ He set the remaining bags down. ‘I’m rarely in London.’ He shrugged. ‘It’d be indulgent, unnecessarily extravagant.’

And she was quickly coming to realise that he was neither of those things. Unfortunately that only made her like him all the more.

‘You seem surprised.’

She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘So when you said I’d have help with the baby...?’

His face cleared. ‘I meant me—that I’d help you. We can take it in shifts.’

A vision of spending the late hours of the night with him rose up through her mind with disconcerting clarity. Ooh, no...that couldn’t happen and—

‘That is OK, isn’t it?’

But in the next instant she remembered the Jekyll and Hyde act Jemima pulled as soon as the sun went down and the image dissolved. There’d be no opportunity for any...funny business. Which was just as well, she told herself in her sternest voice.

‘Ms Gilmour?’

She shook herself. ‘Yes, of course that’s OK. I just feel a bit of an idiot now for expecting staff.’

He hefted bags into his hands. ‘My parents would tell you I’m the idiot.’

‘They’d fill the place with an army of staff, I take it?’

‘They would.’

She grabbed the nappy bag and followed him towards the staircase. ‘You know what? I don’t think I’d like your parents very much.’

‘You’d be one of the few. They’re widely considered...eccentric but charming’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, the likelihood of me meeting your parents, Seb—’

She froze at her slip.

He stilled.

Everything inside of her crunched up tight. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. That was awfully unprofessional of me. Blame sleep deprivation. I promise it won’t happen again, Mr Tyrell.’

He set his bags on the floor. He took the nappy bag and baby carrier from her and put both down—gently—as well. He turned her to face him, before planting his hands on his hips. Her mouth dried as she took in the long line of his legs—their latent power barely disguised by his business trousers—those lean hips tapering up to intriguingly broad shoulders.

‘I think this is an issue we ought to clear up right now.’

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