Cathy Thacker - The Texas Christmas Gift

“Hey, stranger!” She greeted Derek with a friendly pat on the arm and a peck on his cheek. “How’s the house-hunting going?”

Derek inclined his head at Eve. “We haven’t really started yet. Carleen, this is Eve Loughlin. Eve, Carleen Walton, my ex-wife.”

The woman grinned and extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

They certainly were friendly, Eve noted. Maybe the most amiable exes she had ever seen. “Nice to meet you, too,” she replied.

A tall forty-something man ambled up with a baby in his arms.

“And this is Craig, my husband,” Carleen continued. “With our baby, Tiffany.”

And what a beautiful baby she was, Eve could not help but note.

The one-year-old had a cloud of dark curly hair, like her mom’s, and Derek’s vivid sea-blue eyes. She was dressed in a white turtleneck, ruffled red velvet overalls and shiny, high-topped shoes. Spying Eve, she beamed, her smile revealing four teeth, two on the bottom and two on top.

Eve had never been much of a baby person. She saw no reason to lust after something she likely would never have. But something about this little girl captivated her attention.

Still grinning, Tiffany lifted her chubby little hands to her face and spread her fingertips over her eyes. “Peek—boo!” she chirped to Eve.

Eve couldn’t help it; she chuckled. She lifted her hands to her own eyes and covered them playfully. “Peekaboo to you, too!”

Tiffany threw back her head and chortled. Without warning, she lurched out of Craig’s arms and reached for Eve.

Eve caught the infant, cuddling her close. It wasn’t the first time she had ever held a baby. However, it was the first time she’d held one and felt something catch in her heart.

“She’s a real people person,” Carleen noted proudly.

Craig agreed. “Never met a stranger...” he teased.

Tiffany settled in Eve’s arms. She had that wonderful baby-fresh scent. A smear of what looked like strawberry yogurt at the corner of her mouth. More of it on her hands.

Tiffany tilted her head to one side. She looked at Eve. “Mommy?” she asked.

“No, I’m not a momma,” Eve said.

Although for the first time in her life, she found herself wanting to be.

Behind Craig came half a dozen more kids, from toddlers to teens. One of them was holding a wet baby wipe.

“And the rest of our brood,” Craig continued. Catching Eve’s confused look, he said, “From my marriage to my late wife.”

They all certainly looked happy, Eve thought, like the ideal blended family.

Craig took the wipe and handed it to Eve as more introductions were made.

Too late. The little girl’s sticky fingers had found their way to Eve’s hair and were wrapped in the long, silky strands, transferring strawberry yogurt even as they tugged.

Tiffany giggled.

Derek jumped in. “Honey, you can’t do that,” he chided, working to free the tiny fingers.

“It’s okay,” Eve said.

And despite the stickiness, she really didn’t mind.

The close contact had given her a glimpse into the little girl’s personality. And what was there was all sweetness and innocence.

She could see why Derek was so bent on being as close to his daughter as he could. And she admired the friendship and cooperation his ex and her new family demonstrated, as Carleen put a hat and jacket on their little girl before Derek took charge of putting Tiffany into her car seat. Craig and the kids carried several large bags of clothes and toys, and a stroller, out to the car.

“I hope you can find something for Derek without too much delay,” Carleen told Eve pleasantly.

Craig nodded. “Life will be a lot easier for them when they’re in a house instead of a hotel.”

Where was the acrimony that usually existed in recently divorced couples? Eve wondered. Not that there was a residual attraction between them, either. The only love Carleen and Derek seemed to harbor for each other was the old-and-trusted-friends variety. Although why that would be a relief to Eve, she didn’t know. She was just helping Derek buy a house, not becoming part of this unorthodox situation.

Eve returned Carleen’s and Craig’s smiles. She dipped her head in acquiescence, promising, “I’ll do my very best.”

* * *

“ANYONE EVER TELL you that you have the patience of a saint?” Derek asked several hours later, as he paced the length of his two-bedroom hotel suite, his drowsy daughter in his arms.

He had shed the suit and tie shortly after they’d walked in, emerging from the bedroom in a pair of worn jeans and the same pale blue dress shirt he’d had on earlier. With the first two buttons undone, sleeves rolled to just below the elbow and the hem untucked, he looked casual and at ease. Having gotten a glimpse of the man he was in his off hours, Eve liked what she saw. It also gave her hope that she would eventually be able to connect with him on a more congenial level, and talk some sense into him when it came to looking for a place to call home.

In the meanwhile, Tiffany had resisted being tucked in, so Derek was now “walking” her to sleep. It seemed to be working, Eve noted, as she watched the little girl lay her head on his broad shoulder and slowly close her eyes.

Eve smiled as Tiffany yawned again and cuddled even closer against her daddy’s big strong frame. Eve sighed despite herself. Was there anything more compelling than watching a man tenderly care for a child?

Abruptly aware that Derek was watching her as intently as she was watching him, Eve brushed aside the fantasies he’d been engendering all evening and reassured him with a smile. “Not to worry. Adjusting my schedule to my client’s is a necessary component of my vocation.”

She hadn’t planned to be there through Tiffany’s dinner and bath, but it had given her time to get better acquainted with Derek and his daughter and intermittently ask him questions about what he wanted in a home. Which in turn gave her a better idea what properties to show him.

Noting his daughter was now sound asleep, Derek carried her into the adjacent bedroom and set her ever so gently down in her crib. He paused to cover her with a blanket, and then returned to the living room. With his dark hair attractively mussed, the hint of evening beard rimming his handsome face and his long legs emphasized by close-fitting jeans, he was the epitome of masculinity. And way too sexy for her own good, Eve reminded herself.

He plucked the bottle of sparkling water from the room service tray, filled two glasses and added ice, then handed her one. “Ready to get down to business?”

She accepted the beverage with a smile. “Let’s do it.”

She brought up the map of Highland Park on her computer. The town was three miles north of the center of Dallas, and only 2.26 square miles in size. Yet it had approximately 8,900 residents, most living in very luxurious and expensive homes. “Exactly how close do you want to be to your ex-wife’s place?”

Shrugging in response, he pulled up a chair beside her at the desk. He turned it around and sank onto it, his long limbs on either side of the seat, his arms folded over the back. After a moment of deliberation, he slanted Eve a glance. “Next door wouldn’t be bad.”

She turned toward him so abruptly her stocking-clad knee brushed his denim-clad thigh. A flicker of sensation swept through her. “Seriously?”

He lifted his shoulders in another shrug. “Just because Carleen and I are divorced doesn’t mean we can’t give Tiffany the same level of familial happiness she would have enjoyed had we stayed together.” He studied Eve over the rim of his glass. “You don’t believe that can happen?”

She paused, not sure how to answer that. “You two seem to get along great.”