Janice Maynard - Baby for Keeps

He rested a hand on the doorframe, swallowing hard as he realized that one of Mia’s breasts was bare. He couldn’t really see all that much from his vantage point. Spying on her was unforgiveable. But he couldn’t look away from the picture of mother and child. The entire world was made up of moments like these, day after day.

For Dylan, however, it was brand-new. Witnessing it wrenched something inside his chest. Seeing Liam with Zoe these past few months had made Dylan vulnerable somehow...as if he couldn’t help but wonder whether he would ever want that kind of tie...that kind of bond.

As Mia buttoned her blouse, he retreated hurriedly. By the time she walked into the living room, he was leafing through a magazine that had been left behind. He looked up and smiled. “Is her tummy full?”

“It is indeed. She’s very happy at the moment if you were serious about holding her.”

“Of course I was.” As he took the baby from Mia, his hand brushed her chest inadvertently. He was a grown man. It shouldn’t have embarrassed him. But all he could think about was the curve of Mia’s breast as she offered it to this infant. He turned away so he could hide the fact that he was flustered. “She’s beautiful.”

“I think so, but I suppose I’m prejudiced.”

In his peripheral vision he saw Mia sit down on the sofa again. He circled the room slowly, singing nonsense songs, crooning bits of nursery rhymes he remembered from his childhood. He could swear that Cora’s big, dark eyes, so like her mother’s, focused on his face.

Half turning, he spoke softly. “She’s going to be a charmer. I think she’s flirting with me.” When there was no response from Mia, he looked over his shoulder. She was curled up on the sofa, her cheek pillowed on one hand. Apparently she had plopped down and simply gone to sleep. Instantly.

He shook his head at Cora. “You’re going to have to give Mommy a break, little one. She’s worn out.”

Debating his options, he decided to sneak downstairs and let Mia rest. The town had declared all public buildings no-smoking zones last year, so there would be nothing to harm the baby. And besides, Mia had been the one to bring her child into the bar. Surely she wouldn’t mind.

* * *

Mia awoke slowly, completely disoriented. Had Cora cried out? She listened for a moment, and then in a blinding rush of recollection she realized where she was. But as she sat up and glanced around, she noted that her daughter and Dylan were nowhere to be found.

Telling herself there was no need to panic, she scrubbed her hands over her face and tried to shake off the feeling of being drugged. The nap had helped, but it wasn’t the same as a full night’s sleep. She stood up and stretched.

Grabbing her things, she smoothed her shirt and her hair and walked downstairs. The bar was still noisy and busy. When she actually looked at her watch, she groaned. It was after midnight. She found Dylan seated in a booth playing patty-cake with her baby. Standing two deep at his elbow was a group of fawning women. Now this was the Dylan she remembered. She wasn’t sure, however, that she appreciated his using her baby as entertainment for his admirers.

Behind the bar, the big man who had poured her drinks earlier sketched a wave as he continued serving customers. Good heavens, what must Dylan’s employees think of Mia’s presence? Of Cora’s?

Screwing up her courage, she edged toward the booth. Though she was no longer a social disaster, approaching a cluster of strangers still wasn’t easy for her. She cleared her throat to attract Dylan’s attention. “I need to go,” she said.

Dylan had the good sense to look abashed. “Sorry. I didn’t see you standing there. Did you sleep well?”

The expression of every woman in earshot was the same. Shock. Dismay. Vested calculation.

Mia wanted to tell them not to worry, but it didn’t seem the time. She held out her arms for Cora. “I’ll take her. Thanks for dinner.”

As Dylan wiggled his way out of the booth, his entourage melted away. He moved closer to Mia, forcing the two of them into an intimate circle. “Don’t be in such a damned hurry.”

She put her hands over Cora’s ears, scowling. “Watch your mouth. I’m surprised to see you looking so comfortable and domesticated with Cora. Or was that nothing but an act for your groupies?”

His eyebrows rose to his hairline, but still he didn’t surrender the baby. “The little Mia I knew was never sarcastic.”

“The little Mia you knew wouldn’t say boo to a goose. I’m not a child anymore.”

He stared at her. Hard. The way a man stares at a woman. “No, you definitely are not.”

It appeared that the man flirted indiscriminately, because she knew for a fact that he had no interest in her. “Give me my child.”

Holding Cora even more tightly, he nodded his head toward the back. “I’ve got a closet-size office back there. Give me fifteen minutes. Then if you want to go, I won’t stop you.”

She was confused and tired and more than a little depressed. But short of wrestling him to the ground and making a scene, it appeared she had no choice. “Fine. Fifteen minutes.”

Dylan’s office was a wreck. He must have been telling the truth about his bookkeeper, because there was easily a week’s worth of receipts and purchase orders stacked haphazardly across the surface of the scarred oak table he used as a desk. Still holding Cora, he motioned Mia into one of two chairs in the small space. “I have a proposition for you.”

“You must be hard up if you’re propositioning a nursing mom with a bad haircut and legs that haven’t been shaved in two weeks.”

This time she definitely saw him wince. “You used to be a lot sweeter, Mia Larin.”

“I’m a mom now. I can’t be a pushover. Are you ever going to give her back to me?”

He kissed the top of Cora’s downy head. “You forget that I have five brothers younger than me. I’ve changed more than my share of diapers over the years.”

“But not recently.”

“No. Not recently.”

If he had an agenda for this awkward meeting, he was taking his good easy time getting to the point. “What do you want from me, Dylan?”

His smile could have charmed the bloomers off an old-maid schoolteacher. “I want to offer you a job.”

“Doing what?”

He waved a hand at the mess. “Being my new bookkeeper.”

“That’s absurd. I’m not an accountant.”

He propped a hip against the table, forcing her to look at all the places his jeans were soft and worn. “You’re a genius,” he said, the words oddly inflected. “Keeping the books for the Silver Dollar Saloon isn’t exactly rocket science.”

“I don’t need you to bail me out, Dylan. But thanks for the offer.” Watching him absently stroke her daughter’s hair undermined her hurry to leave. Dylan was big and strong and unabashedly masculine. But his hands held Cora gently.

“We’d be helping each other,” he insisted. “The job comes with room and board. Or at least until you get tired of the food downstairs. I live five miles away, so you don’t have to worry about me getting underfoot. There’s an alarm system. You would be perfectly safe alone here when we’re closed. I know the bar gets pretty noisy at times, but a fan or a sound machine would probably do the trick. The insulation between the floors is actually pretty good.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You need some time to regroup. I need a bookkeeper. You won’t have to worry about day care. Cora is welcome here always. And with a salary coming in—though I’m sure it’s not even in the ballpark of what you were making in your field— you’ll be comfortable and settled while you look for a new position.”