Sarah M. Anderson - Seduction On His Terms

Jeannie choked on a sob. “She’s...” No, that wasn’t right. Present tense no longer applied to Nicole. “She developed blood clots and...”

Robert’s back stiffened. “The father?”

“Sperm donor.”

He made that humming noise again. Just then the doorbell rang and Melissa howled all the louder and Jeannie wanted to burrow into Robert’s arms and pretend the last week had been a horrible dream. But she didn’t get the chance because he said, “My kit—can you bring it to me, please?”

“Sure?” When Jeannie opened the door, the man from the car was there. “Reginald?”

“Miss.” He tipped his hat with one hand. With the other, he hefted an absolutely enormous duffel bag. “Shall I bring this to Dr. Wyatt?”

“I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“Babies cry, miss,” he said gently as he handed over the bag. “The good doctor will make sure nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry—it gets easier.”

The kind words from an older man who looked like he might have dealt with crying babies a few times in his life felt like a balm on her soul.

“Thank you,” Jeannie said and she meant it.

Reginald tipped his hat.

It took both hands, but she managed to lug the kit back to the baby’s room. Melissa was still screaming. Probably because Robert was pinching the skin on her arms. “What are you doing?” Jeannie demanded.

“She’s got good skin elasticity and her lungs are in great shape.” He sounded calm and reasonable. “Ah, the kit. Come,” he said, motioning right next to him. “Tell me everything.”

Jeannie did as she was told, putting her hand on Melissa’s little belly as Robert dug into the duffel. “She hasn’t stopped crying since I brought her home two days ago. Nicole never even left the hospital. I don’t know anything about babies.”

“Clearly.” She couldn’t even be insulted by that. “Which hospital? Who were the doctors?” He came up with a stethoscope and one of those tiny little lights.

Oh. His kit must be an emergency medical bag. “Uh, Covenant. Her OB was some old guy named Preston, I think? I don’t remember who the pediatrician is.” She realized that, at some point, Robert had shed his suit jacket and had rolled up his sleeves. He still had on his vest but there was something so undone about him right now...

He’d almost kissed her. And she’d almost let him. The man who didn’t like to be touched, didn’t show emotion—she’d touched him and he’d come within a breath of kissing her.

Even stranger, he was now touching—gently—Melissa.

This just didn’t make sense. Robert didn’t like touching people. Simple as that.

What exactly had she wished upon? No ordinary star had this kind of power behind it.

Robert listened to Melissa’s chest and then peered into her mouth and ears before pressing on her stomach.

With a heartbreaking scream, the baby tooted.

“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry,” Jeannie blurted out.

“As I expected,” Robert said, seemingly unbothered by the small mess left in the diaper that was thankfully still under Melissa’s bottom. He listened to her stomach. “Hmm.”

“What does that mean?” Dimly, Jeannie was aware that this was the longest conversation she’d ever had with him.

“When was the last time you fed her?”

“Uh, about forty-five minutes ago. She drank about two ounces.” That, at least, she could measure. She’d watched a few YouTube videos on how to feed a baby. Thank God for the internet.

Wait—when had she started thinking of him as Robert? Except for that one time, she hadn’t allowed herself to use his given name at Trenton’s because that implied a level of familiarity they didn’t have.

Or at least, a level they hadn’t had before he’d shown up on her doorstep to make an accidental house call. Or before she’d touched his chest and he’d caressed her cheek and who could forget that near-kiss?

Robert it was, apparently.

“What are you feeding her?”

“The hospital sent home some formula...” She couldn’t even remember the brand right now.

“Get it.”

She hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the can and the bottle she hadn’t had the chance to empty and clean yet. By the time she got back to the baby’s room, Robert had apparently diapered and dressed the baby and was wrapping her in a blanket so that only her head was visible.

“This is called swaddling,” he explained as, almost by magic, Melissa stopped screaming. “Newborns are used to being in the womb—not a lot of room to move, it’s warm and they can hear their mother’s heartbeat.”

Embarrassment swamped her. “I thought... I didn’t want her to get too hot.”

“You can swaddle her in just a diaper—but keep her wrapped up. She’ll be happier.” He scooped the baby burrito into his arms and turned to Jeannie, casting a critical eye over her.

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Do what?”

She waved in his general direction. “Change a diaper. Swaddle a baby. Where did you learn how to take care of a baby?”

He notched an eyebrow at her and, in response, her cheeks got hot. “It’s not complicated. Now, some babies have what we call a fourth trimester—they need another three months of that closeness and warmth before they’re comfortable. Hold her on your chest as much as you can right now. She doesn’t need to cry it out.” His lips curved into that barely there smile. “No matter what the internet says.”

She blushed. Hard.

He tucked Melissa against his chest as if it was the easiest thing in the world. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned about how to support her head or that he might accidentally drop her or any of the worries that haunted Jeannie. Nor did he seem worried in the slightest about holding a baby in the vicinity of a suit that probably cost a few thousand dollars. He made the whole thing look effortless. Because it wasn’t that complicated, apparently.

She wanted to be insulted—and she was—but the sight of Dr. Robert Wyatt cuddling a newborn, for lack of a better word, hit Jeannie in the chest so hard she almost stumbled.

“Here,” she managed to say, holding the formula out for him.

With a critical eye, he glanced at the brand. Then, without taking it, he pulled out his cell again. “Reginald? Find the closest grocery store and pick up the following items...”

He rattled off a list of baby products that left Jeannie dizzy. When he ended the call, he nodded to the formula. “That brand has soy in it. Her symptoms are in line with a soy sensitivity.”

“Crying is a symptom?”

He gave her a look that was almost kind. But not quite. “Her stomach is upset and she’s not supposed to be that red. Both are signs she’s not tolerating something well. Reginald will bring us several alternatives.”

“So...there’s nothing wrong with her?”

“No. Of course it could be colic and something more serious...”

All the blood drained from Jeannie’s face so fast that she felt ill. More serious?

Robert cleared his throat. “I’m reasonably confident it’s the formula.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s...” She managed to make it to the rocker that Nicole’s fellow teachers had all pooled their money to buy. The baby just had a sensitive stomach. It wasn’t anything Jeannie was doing wrong—the hospital had given her the formula, after all. “That’s good.” Her voice cracked on the words.

Robert stared at her. “Are you all right?”

Only this man would ask that question. She began to giggle and then she was laughing so hard she was sobbing and the words poured out of her. “Of course I’m not okay. I buried my sister and there was so much we didn’t say and I’m responsible for a newborn but I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t have the money to do any of it and you’re here, which is good, but why are you here, Robert?”