Kate Thomas - Daddy By Design? - Daddy By Design? / Her Perfect Wife

“No. God, no. I don’t need a nurse. I just need to get a grip.” Trey sank back against the supporting comfort of the sofa cushions. His knees apart, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, he stared into Cinda’s mesmerizing golden eyes. “Cinda, I think we should—”

Chelsi let out a squawk, cutting Trey’s words off. She then pitched herself over in his direction, dragging her mother, via her gold chain, with her. “Oops.” Cinda righted herself and her daughter. “I think she wants you to hold her, Trey. You don’t have to—”

“No. Let me see her.” This was perfect. Exactly what he needed to do. “I love babies,” he said holding his hands out. “And I never miss an opportunity to hold one when offered.”

Cinda looked enormously pleased. “Okay. If you’re sure. Just let me get my necklace untangled from her fists.”

As she gently pried her daughter’s fingers open, Trey realized that he already felt a sort of kinship with this baby. After all, he’d been there when she came into the world. But right now, Trey wanted to hold the little girl for a reason not having to do with her own preciousness. Despite his misgivings of a few minutes ago, his not seeing how he could just blatantly ask Cinda what Richard had looked like, he decided that maybe one live picture—of himself and Chelsi together—was worth a thousand words. What he wanted to witness was Cinda’s first and honest reaction upon seeing him and her baby together. He felt certain her face would reveal her emotions, and he might as well know them now as later.

“Okay. There we go. Finally.” Cinda had untangled herself from her child. “I should know better than to wear anything she can get her little paws on.” With that, she scooped up her baby, holding the child up and out to him. “Ready? Be careful. She can be a handful.”

“About like her mother, I suspect,” Trey quipped, striving to sound light and humorous, even though that wasn’t how he felt.

Not yet handing the dangling baby over, Cinda looked at him questioningly. “No one’s ever said that to me before. Richard thought I was boring.”

“Which is why the yaks got him.” Trey heard himself—and saw Cinda’s startled expression. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

With a smile tugging at her lips, Cinda shook her head. “Actually, it was more funny than out of line.”

“Whew. Dodged that bullet.” Trey took hold of the soft and chubby little girl whose limbs were flailing wildly. “Come here, you.” He turned her in his arms and greeted her. “Why, hello there, Chelsi. How you doing, huh?”

The baby stuck out her tongue and gave him the raspberries, a rousing Bronx cheer, and chortled her happiness with her efforts.

“I think I deserved that,” Trey said mock seriously.

“Oh, God.” Cinda covered her eyes with a hand. “I am so embarrassed. Major Clovis taught her that.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Grinning, Trey focused on the baby. She was killer cute. He held her close to his face and turned toward Cinda. But the baby promptly grabbed two handfuls of his hair and, with more strength than he would have credited her with, pulled herself forward, her mouth open as if she meant to gnaw on his scalp. Making a sound of protest, Trey did his best to hold her at bay.

“You’ll have to excuse her. She’s teething,” Cinda explained benignly, not offering him any help. “Either that or there are cannibals in the Cavanaugh bloodlines.”

Trey was still fighting for his scalp, but this was just the opening he wanted. “Speaking of the Cavanaugh’s, what do you think? Do you see here the same thing that I do, Cinda?”

“If you mean a man trying to keep a baby from snacking on his head, then yes I do.”

“Not that. I meant not just any man and not just any baby.”

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