Adrianne Byrd - She's My Baby

This wasn’t exactly the kind of emergency he had in mind when he bolted over here, but it was a job that still needed to be done.

Garrick nestled the little girl in the crook of his arm. As he swayed back and forth, the baby quieted down. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed.

“How did you do that?” his neighbor asked wide-eyed.

“I’ve been told I’m a natural with babies and animals,” he boasted proudly.

“You’re a godsend.”

The woman raked her fingers through her hair—something she should stop doing, he noted.

“Yeah, well, I guess if you just get us a new diaper, I can help you change her and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He didn’t mean to mention her hair, but it had a way of drawing the eye.

She blinked. “A diaper?”

has always preferred to live within the realms of her imagination where all the men are gorgeous and the women are up to all the challenge of whatever trouble they manage to get into. Her first Kimani Press release, She’s My Baby, was inspired by a true-life incident. Ms. Byrd’s youngest sister politely informed her that she was having a baby—ten days before her due date! Her little sis and baby moved in. They’ve been living with Ms. Byrd happily, temporarily, ever after.

She’s My Baby

Adrianne Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For my niece Courtney Breanna White I hope I don’t screw this up

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Leila and Garrick’s story. I have to admit that it was one of my easier subject matters to write about since I positively break out into a cold sweat every time my sister even hints for me to babysit my one-year-old niece. Some women, like me, really have to work to dust off unused maternal instincts. Like Leila, I discovered that even after sleepless nights, countless diaper changes and constant worrying, there is a unique joy in being around a baby. Nothing gives you the same kind of pleasure as when a child smiles at you. So much so that you find yourself doing the most ridiculous things—like “goo-gooing” while you’re holding up the line at the grocery store—just to win another toothless grin.

So, now I have a baby at the house…all I have to do is keep peeking out the window to find my Garrick Grayson.

It could happen…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Leila Owens, founder and editor director of Atlanta Spice magazine, gaped at the world’s greatest assistant—her assistant—and her good friend and prayed that her ears were clogged with wax. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes. Isn’t it great? The news is kind of an early Christmas gift to my family.” Ciara Winston beamed a radiant smile as she closed Leila’s office door and journeyed into the room.

“Nooo,” Leila half moaned, half groaned, and then dropped her head into the palms of her hands. “Why on earth would you go off and do something so…silly…and suicidal?”

“Silly and suicidal?”

“Babies are career killers in this industry,” Leila snapped, jerking her desk drawer open to grab the industrial-size bottle of Rolaids. “They need constant attention, they are always sick, and they are always crying for something.”

Ciara crossed her arms. “Babies aren’t the only ones who do that.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Leila added as she popped a few pills into her mouth.

Her assistant laughed, but when Leila’s sharp gaze stabbed her, Ciara sobered. “Leila, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Doesn’t it? What do you think is going to happen to me while you’re off having morning sickness, water-retention issues, and raging mood swings? I have a company to run and I can’t do that without my right-hand woman at my side. I need you.” Leila downed two more tablets for good measure.

“I’m not dying. I’m just having a baby.” Before Leila could respond, Ciara held up a silencing finger. “Please, let me finish before you say something that will cause me to turn in my resignation.” She lowered her hand.

Leila clamped her mouth close.

“Elmo and I—”

“Elmo. What kind of name…”

Ciara jutted her finger back into the air and Leila grudgingly fell silent again. “Look, don’t get all neurotic on me. I like you. I’m also insane enough to say that I like working for you. But I am ready for the next chapter in my life—motherhood. Now, the polite thing for you to do is to congratulate me.”

Leila ground her teeth and then lowered into her chair.

“I can be just as stubborn as you and I can stand here all day.”

It was true, Leila knew. Her assistant’s bullheadedness was one of the reasons that made Ciara a perfect match for Leila. Yet, for every common denominator between them, there were five differences. This whole family-and-marriage thing was just another example.

Ciara cleared her throat and waited.

“All right, all right. Congratulations. I hope you and Tickle Me Elmo have a slew of rug rats, if it makes you happy.”

“Thank you.” Ciara smiled sweetly. “I knew you had it in you. One day I hope you will experience the joy of marriage and children.”

“Spare me.” Leila leaned back in her chair. “And don’t think I’m going to suffer through ‘children are great’ sermons from you on a daily basis. Not all single women are miserable. Atlanta Spice is my marriage and I’m completely happy with it.”

“If you say so.” Ciara pivoted and headed back out. “By the way,” she said, opening the door. “Your sister called this morning. Twice.”

Leila reached back into her drawer-slash-personal-pharmacy for some antacids. “Which sister?”

“Roslyn. Said it was important.”

“Everything is important to her. Thanks…and can you see about getting me some aspirin? I’m running low.”

“You got it,” Ciara laughed and finally made her exit.

Leila, meanwhile, placed mental bets with herself on when Ciara would quit. She could hear it now: Elmo and I agreed that I should become a full-time mom. That’s what all twenty-something women wanted to do nowadays.

Disgusted, she reached for the phone and punched in Roslyn’s number. She sidelined her magic pink pills until she heard what her sister had to say. On rare occasions important issues weren’t so bad.

“You have to be the hardest person in the world to get on the phone,” Roslyn launched into saying.

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“Sorry. Hello. Have you heard from Samantha?”

“No.” Leila snatched up the Pepto. “Should I have?”