Anne Winston - The Baby Consultant

She stood and looked around for her purse, telling herself she had no reason to feel guilty. This baby wasn’t her problem. She barely knew Jack and she certainly wasn’t responsible for helping him with Alexa. He would do just fine.

Two

True to Jack’s word, Frannie’s portfolio was delivered to her first thing Monday morning by the same friendly blonde she’d seen in his office.

“I am really sorry about this,” the woman said. “Jack and I had to coordinate a number of things by phone where he got called down to Florida, and I overlooked it.”

“That’s all right. Unavoidable things happen sometimes.” Frannie hadn’t been able to continue being piqued at Jack. Not after she’d lain awake half the night thinking about how he was doing with the baby.

“Jack tells me you were a godsend on Friday evening.” The blonde smiled sympathetically. “I’ve never thought of Jack as a father in all the years we’ve been together. He certainly has his hands full.”

The woman’s words caught Frannie off guard. The way he’d flirted, charmed her last night had made her forget what kind of man he was. Anger lit a small fuse inside her He had no business flirting with her like that when he clearly had a long-term relationship with his secretary.

“It was no big deal,” she said, practically shooing the blonde out and preparing to close the door. “I’d have done the same for anybody.”

The rest of the morning she was conscious of a feeling of...disappointment nagging at her. It must be human nature to want to assume the best of someone. She’d given Jack the benefit of the doubt when she should have known better. Especially when she’d had first-hand experience with the same kind of man before.

Well, she wasn’t going to give Jack Ferris another thought. She immediately called two clients and set up appointments for them to go over the portfolio with her, then went to work on a beautiful old dress that one client’s mother had worn. The girl wanted to wear it, but unfortunately she was a bit larger than her mother. Frannie had devised twin panels of additional fabric as an insert at the waist that inconspicuously offered the necessary size adjustment. Both the bride and her mother were delighted.

In the middle of the morning, a delivery from the florist interrupted a final fitting for a girl whose wedding was the following Saturday.

“Got something here for you, Frannie,” the man called.

Rising from her knees, where she’d been fiddling with the hemline that the bride insisted had be to lengthened to accommodate the higher heels she had bought over the weekend, Frannie pushed through the swinging saloon-style doors from the fitting area.

Her regular delivery man stood in the middle of the shop, totally hidden behind a huge spray of red roses beautifully displayed with ferns and baby’s breath. His big feet in heavy work boots looked ridiculously out of place on the pale pink carpet. “You musta really impressed some fella.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Frannie replied. “They’re probably for one of my brides, though why they would have been sent here is a mystery.”

“I don’t know ’bout that,” he said. He set the arrangement down on top of a glass counter displaying a variety of ladies’ dress gloves. “It’s got your name right here.” He pointed to the address attached to the flowers before turning to leave. “You have a nice day now.”

“You, too,” Frannie said absently as she slid the small white card from its accompanying envelope.

You’re my angel. Jack.

Pleasure swept through her. An image of Jack’s face rose for an instant before the damper of reality intruded. Jack only was expressing his thanks with this too-extravagant gesture. He might have made her heart beat faster for a few hours, but that was immaterial. He was involved already. With at least one woman, she thought, remembering the phone conversation he’d been having the day she’d been shown into his office.

“Whoo-hoo! What did you have to do for those?” April, her assistant, peeked through the doors, then walked over to read the card as she bent toward the roses and inhaled deeply. “Who’s Jack? And how come florists’ roses never have any smell?”

“A little favor, a business acquaintance, and I don’t know.” Under April’s suspicious gaze, Frannie fought the urge to fidget. It was true; Jack was just an acquaintance whom she’d helped out. The roses meant nothing to him other than, “Thank you.”

And, of course, that was what they meant to her, too.

The rest of the week passed in a frantic blur. June was a big month in the bridal business; come July, the bell over the shop door probably wouldn’t ring once the whole day, but it certainly was getting a workout in June. On Friday afternoon Frannie and April were sharing a soda and nursing fingers sore from so much detailed handwork, when the door to the shop’s entry jangled yet again.

Wearily Frannie got to her feet. She would give a lot to be able to flip that sign over to Closed for the rest of the day. But they had fittings scheduled right up until they locked up that evening. With a sigh, she pushed through the doors into the shop with a smile firmly pinned in place.

She stopped dead when she saw Jack Ferris lounging against a counter, smiling at her. He was wearing a sort of backpack with Alexa snuggled into it, except that it was carried on his broad chest rather than his back. One hand patted a gentle rhythm against the spot where Alexa’s back was. It was hard to tear her gaze from the sight. The contrast between the baby’s pink, lace-edged bonnet and his big, blunt-fingered hand struck her hard in the heart.

He was wearing dun-colored slacks with a dark green knit shirt that made his eyes look silver. Or maybe it was just the light in the shop. Whatever, he looked wonderful. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath backed up in her throat for a minute. She despised her reaction, but she couldn’t control it.

“This is a surprise,” she finally managed. To her everlasting relief, her voice sounded relatively normal, if a bit higher than usual.

Jack straightened and came toward her, moving around the counter to her side. “I know. We just came from the doctor’s office and I thought you might want to hear how Lex is doing.”

“Lex?” To cover her flustered state, she seized on the name as she sidled a step away. “You’re calling that beautiful little girl Lex?”

“Sure. Every kid needs a nickname.” He took a step closer and smiled down at her. “Frannie is a nickname, isn’t it? Short for Francesca?”

“Don’t I wish.” She shook her head as she backed up another step. “Short for Frances.”

“I’m glad you’re not Frances or Fran. I like ‘Frannie,”’ Jack pronounced, advancing again.

She didn’t care what he liked. She just wished the man would quit invading her personal space. She took another step backward, and the wall brought her up short. “I like ‘Frannie,’ too.” Why are you here?

“And Jack, of course, is another name for John. My father was John, and I have to say I’m glad. Don’t you think Jack suits me?” He took another step closer.

“Jack suits you.” She took a deep breath. “You’re crowding me.”

“I know.”

She was startled into looking up and as she did so, she realized how very close he was. Their bodies were only inches apart, separated by the small mound of the baby’s carrier. He was smiling that intimate smile again, and she reminded herself that it was second nature for him, that there was nothing personal about it.

“Do you do this to all your friends?” She made her voice light and amused.

At the outer edges of his eyes, the grooves deepened. “Only my absolute favorites.” But he moved back a step.