Jennifer Greene - A Baby In His In-Box

“Oh, I like it—but I’m just chuckling because of how uniquely it suits you. And I hear our rock-star-in-training revving up the volume. I’ll get Dylan, if you just unlock the front door and start hauling things in.”

Flynn suspected she was subtly trying to suggest that he quit standing there like a dead stick. And while she unthreaded the baby from the car seat torture device, he swiftly fished into his pocket for the door key. Still, as he heaped his arms with bags to carry in, he glanced at his house.

The place was no castle. It was just old. And Molly’s dreamer label miffed him. Maybe he’d impulsively fallen in love and bought the property on sight, but it had taken months of elbow grease—not dreams—to make the old white elephant livable. The core structure was stone, with a tall, shake-shingle roof and old-fashioned mullioned windows that reflected silver in the moonlight. But a gabled roof and some skinny mullioned windows hardly made it look like some prissy girl castle.

Flynn opened the double front doors, elbowed in with his packages and quickly flicked on an overhead light Molly jogged in behind him with the baby. “Maybe you’ll like it more when you see the inside,” he said defensively. “I had to have some space. I’d get claustrophobic in a city-type apartment. There’s woods out the back, and a creek. And I do a lot of work at home, so I had to renovate some things on the inside—”

“I can see.” She was busy juggling The Squirmer, but not so busy that she didn’t shoot a look around inside. Again, her eyes danced with dry humor. “I wasn’t criticizing you, Flynn. It’s a romantic house. Ideal for an unconventional dreamer.”

“I’m not a romantic.”

“Oops. Did I touch a nerve? I’ll be careful not to use any dirty words like ‘romantic’ again...the baby’s fussing. I think you’d better bring in the diapers first.”

He brought in the diapers—and all the other confounded stuff, heaping it all in the stone foyer just inside the door. On those in-and-out treks, he either caught glimpses of Molly or heard her, talking to the baby, using her nice, warm, sexy-as-sin sensual voice—not like the one she’d been using with him all afternoon.

And somehow he’d counted on her liking his place. He did. Hell, everything was perfect—at least for a guy living alone. He’d put barn beams and a skylight in the great room, bought three giant forest green couches and elled them around the man-size stone fireplace. He wasn’t much on pictures and doodads, but the media entertainment center was prime. A thick, fat white alpaca rug made a great place to lay by a roaring fire on a blizzardy night.

As he peeled off his jacket, the goods all carried in, he thought Molly’d look damn near outstanding on that white alpaca rug. Naked. Well, maybe still wearing stockings... if he was going to fantasize, he might as well go whole hog.

The fantasy died a fast death when she stepped through the arched doorway of the kitchen, still holding the baby. “Are you done bringing everything in?”

Her voice was cool enough to chill champagne. “Yeah. Everything’s out of both cars...but after all your help and the trouble I’ve put you through, I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

“Thanks, but I’d better be going. That’s quite a kitchen you’ve got in there. Every labor-saving appliance known to man and woman both.”

“You didn’t like the kitchen, either?”

“McGannon, you seem to think I’m on your case. You have a fantastic house, ultracool. Every inch of it suits you.”

“You haven’t seen the upstairs. I could give you a quick tour.”

“Maybe another time. Here you go.” She lifted Dylan and plopped the wriggling chunk into his arms. “I changed his diaper, and I put out some toddler baby food on the counter. The directions said you could microwave it but you’ll need to be careful it’s not too hot.”

She was trotting for the front door faster than a filly in a sulky race. “You’re sure you won’t stay for dinner—?”

“Positive.” She opened the front door.

“Molly, wait.” Dylan whacked him on the ear with a baby fist. Flynn heard alarm bells of anxiety clanging in his ears—and not just because the baby had given him a boxer’s whack. “I appreciate your helping me out. I owe you a big thanks.”

“No sweat. You’re welcome.”

Flynn let the baby down, since there was no holding on to the contortionist anyway. Dylan immediately quit squawking, plunked down on all fours and took off again. Molly had her hand on the doorknob, looking as primed to take off and escape from him as the kid had been. He cleared his throat. “Look, I can see you’re uncomfortable with me. I don’t know what to say, how to make that right. But you and I never had a problem communicating before—”

“And we don’t now. There’s no reason business should be different than usual tomorrow.”

“Business,” he echoed. “There wasn’t business on your mind earlier this afternoon. Or on mine. Believe me, I understand that it was Virginie’s visit that changed that...and it’s not like I’m blaming you for judging me—”

“I’m not judging you,” she said swiftly. Too swiftly. He saw her swallow hard, and finally she turned to face him. She didn’t give up her hold on that doorknob, but her voice turned soft. Molly soft. “I’m judging me, Flynn. You’re right—we were becoming close. And that was never a good idea—not for me. Everything that happened this afternoon has underlined for me that I really don’t know you.”

“You’re upset because of the baby, which God knows, I understand. But I don’t know that Dylan is mine—”

“The baby’s not the problem. At least not exactly. I hope I’d never tar anybody with a judgmental feather for making that kind of mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. And that particular one, couples have been making since the beginning of time.” She hesitated. “But if a woman like that attracted you, Flynn, you and I honestly have nothing in common. We couldn’t possibly value any of the same things.”

“You’ve lost respect—”

“Yeah, I think that’s fair to say.” Her eyes mirrored the most uncomfortable kind of honesty. “You can be a real trial to work with, McGannon. You bellow and you’re stubborn and you tend to railroad everyone in your path. But you’ve got a huge heart and an incredibly creative mind—I’ve never seen you judge anyone or fail to listen to their point of view. From the first day on the job, I admired you. Respected you. Enormously.”

Mentally Flynn dismissed those minor details about his bellowing and stubbornness. Maybe it had taken Molly a couple of months to really believe his bark was worth peanuts—and that he really hated people kowtowing to him. But she hadn’t been intimidated by him in a blue moon.

Respect was a different issue entirely. Flynn hadn’t known she felt that “enormous respect.” But he could feel the loss of it now—hear it, in her velvet-soft voice—and it hurt like a knife stab in his gut.

Instinctively he stepped toward her, wanting to reach her, touch her. He told himself the impulse wasn’t sexual—and yet he knew it was. When he’d kissed her before, all the nuisance life differences between them disappeared. The connection had always been real, honest, and hotter than fire. Something about that chemistry created a strange, alien feeling of belonging—and maybe Flynn had never understood it, but he had a dread-sinking sensation that he’d never have that feeling again. Not with anyone. Not like with Molly. And if he just kissed her...

But the look in her eyes stopped him. She didn’t back away from him. She didn’t move at all in those seconds, yet she faced him with this sudden, soft, naked vulnerability in her eyes. It was a look that said I’m a strong, tough cookie with a weakness. A weakness for you. And yeah, she’d dive under—maybe—if he kissed her. But that wasn’t the same as her willingness.