Daddy By Design?: Daddy By Design? / Her Perfect Wife

Catching sight of her, locking gazes with her, Trey’s breath caught. He forgot his surroundings and his escort. His mouth was suddenly dry, his palms sweaty. For him, no one existed except Cinda. She filled the room with her smiling warmth and her beauty. She lit up the—

Pow! Trey was smacked hard in the middle of his back, hard enough to rock him off his feet. He tripped forward, gasping, and heard Cinda do the same. She put a hand to her mouth and looked as surprised as he was.

From Trey’s left, the austere, serious-minded woman who’d brought him this far said, “Breathe, soldier. You forgot to breathe.”

Ever dutiful, Trey breathed. In and out. In and out. And stared at his…what? Assailant? Arch-enemy? Someone to whom he’d forgotten he owed a huge amount of money? “Thanks,” he managed to croak out. “I’ll try to remember that from now on.”

“Good. It makes life a whole lot easier.” She got in his face. “And I want you to enjoy what you have left of it, son.” Leaving him with that cheery thought, the woman zipped around on her heel and marched out of the room.

Swallowing hard, Trey watched her go. He made certain that the woman was gone before he turned to Cinda and remarked, “She loves me. We’re engaged.”

Cinda laughed. “Well, I’ll certainly look forward to that wedding.”

Grinning, Trey noticed how much Cinda had changed in the last six months. Not surprising that she would, since she’d been nine months pregnant when first he saw her. Though beautiful even then, she was more so now. Motherhood agreed with her. Slender and tanned, she stood there in a dress that showed off her figure. Her face was thinner, too, highlighting her cheekbones and sensual mouth. And those wonderful amber eyes. They were enough to stop a man’s heart from beating.

Trey realized he was staring. He also knew that Cinda was watching him do so. He inhaled, trying to rouse himself to action. The polite thing to do was go over to her, sit and visit and make a fuss over the baby. But he’d be damned if he could get his legs to cooperate. That was when it hit him. Wait a minute. Baby? She has a baby in her arms. How had he not noticed before now? He pointed to the child. “Have you always been holding her?”

Cinda raised her eyebrows. “It seems like it some days, but I’ve only had her for six months, remember? You were there.” She pointed to her child. “This is Chelsi Elise.”

“She certainly is,” Trey said, thinking himself ridiculous. “And she’s beautiful. But I must be losing it. I didn’t even notice you were holding her when you stood up. All I saw were stars.”

Cinda’s expression melted into one of apologetic sympathy. “Oh, I know. You poor man. I should tell you that was Major Clovis—the woman who brought you in here and smacked you on the back. She’s my nurse, assistant, secretary…bulldog.”

Trey had meant Cinda. All he’d seen were stars when he saw her. But it had been a pretty hokey thing to say once, much less twice. “Ah. Major Clovis.”

“She came with the house.”

“Chained up in the basement, no doubt.”

Cinda laughed, and it was magic. “Exactly right. How’d you know?”

“A lucky guess. I like her. I think she’s nice.” God, how he wanted Cinda.

“You’re being kind.” Cinda patted the happily gurgling blond baby girl in her arms. “The truth is, if you’re not me or Chelsi, she won’t like you. Ever. Now, tell me, what hideous thing did she say to you on the way in here? And don’t tell me she didn’t because she always does.”

She did? Did that mean there had been a procession of men through those front doors? Trey instantly hated that idea—and now truly liked Major Clovis for doing her best to run them off. One thing Trey knew was she wouldn’t run him off. But in answer to Cinda’s question, Trey shrugged. “Nothing much. Ripping my heart out. Things like that. At least she’s up-front about how she feels. I can respect that.”

“Oh, you poor thing. But speaking of respect, come over here and pay yours to my daughter, a little girl you almost had to bring into this world, Mr. Trey Cooper.” Cinda’s eyes shone with maternal pride.

Trey loved the way she said his name. Mr. Trey Cooper. Like she was trying it out for size. Mrs. Trey Cooper. But wait a minute, he chided himself, shouldn’t he hate that whole idea? Shouldn’t he be running away, instead of steadily walking toward her? As he approached where she still stood, he reminded himself of his own rule: no wife and kids while on the race circuit. Sure, he knew that intellectually, but another part of his psyche, the part that reported directly to his heart, said…maybe, maybe not. Oh, this wasn’t good. This woman had danger written all over her. She was the yellow flag that warned the drivers to slow down when there was trouble ahead on the course.

And yet, here he was standing in front of her as close as propriety and the baby’s presence between them would allow. He looked into Cinda’s golden eyes, caught the scent of her perfume, and smiled. Awareness flashed and caught him off-guard. His heart beat faster, harder. Cinda’s lips parted slightly, as if she thought he was about to kiss her. As if she was about to allow him to kiss her. And oh, he wanted to, all right. Trey leaned in toward her. She leaned in toward him. He reached out, putting his hand lightly on her back as he lowered his head to capture her mouth.

He heard her little gasp…of passion for him? No, of pain because the baby had yanked a handful of her mother’s hair. And Cinda was pulling away from him and looking embarrassed and disconcerted. Feeling much the same, Trey cleared his throat and retreated a step or two. Still, despite the “kissus interruptus,” the good news here was Cinda was obviously as affected by him as he was by her.

“So,” Trey remarked, striving to get nonchalant as he pointed to the baby, “tell me about this little lady here who likes to pull hair and ruin tender moments between two adults.”

Trey grinned at the child and turned to mush. He was a total sap for babies. The little girl was beautiful. Healthy chubby-baby round. Pretty pink skin. Blue eyes. She had dark blond curly fuzzy hair that looked…Trey fought a bemused grin…spiky and wet or something. Dressed in a one-piece ruffled pink baby-girl-outfit thingie with snaps, she clung to her mother and eyed him warily as her mother set about making the introductions.

“Mr. Trey Cooper,” Cinda said, “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Miss Chelsi Elise Cavanaugh.”

As Cinda reassured the little girl that it was okay for the big and smiling man to talk to her, Trey suddenly realized something amazing. Chelsi could be his daughter. Not in the biological sense. But in the physical traits department, she looked just like him. Her eyes were blue like his, and her hair was a sandy blond, again like his. He fought to keep the shock off his face, even as he heard himself engaging in the simpleton banter adults employ with babies.

Still, he couldn’t get past it. Anyone who saw the two of them together would have no trouble believing that he was Chelsi’s father. Of course, that was what he wanted people in Southwood to think. But this was pretty upsetting. It bothered him, and he couldn’t figure out why. So she looked like him. So what? His looks and coloring, unlike Cinda’s, weren’t all that unique.

Then Trey realized what had him upset. It wasn’t just that Chelsi looked like him. It was that he was proud she did. As if he’d had something to do with her creation. Well, that did it. Trey’s single-male-and-liking-it genes rose up in protest. Easy, buddy. With this kind of thinking, can pushing a baby buggy be far behind? Or the tan minivan? And holding your wife’s purse in the mall while she shops for bras? Remember the race circuit. That’s your first love. Always will be. Run, man. Just hightail it out of here, dude, I’m telling ya.

Trey knew he wouldn’t do that, but a more upsetting realization had just smacked him between the eyes: if Cinda’s baby looked so much like him, then that meant he looked a lot like the baby’s father, right? Okay, now here was some tricky ground. Trey pretty much believed that Cinda was attracted to him. He knew the signs. But could it be, at least in part, because he reminded her of her deceased husband? Oh, that would really suck.

Trey told himself that he needed to know what Richard Cavanaugh had looked like. Just to put his mind at ease. Just so he’d know that Cinda wasn’t a vulnerable widow, one he was taking advantage of. But how the hell was he supposed to go about finding out what her husband had looked like? He couldn’t just, out of the blue, ask her. What reason would he give? Nor could he demand that Cinda produce a picture of the man. And he certainly didn’t think it would go over very well if he set out on a photograph-hunting safari of his own throughout her house. No doubt, Major Clovis would skewer him before he got to the stairs.

Though still chuckling at the baby who refused to come to him, on the inside Trey was beating himself up. What the hell was he even doing thinking he had a right to question Cinda about her feelings about anything? He barely knew the woman. Only it didn’t feel that way.

So here was the thing: He wanted to see her and get to know her. Yet he didn’t. If he did and came to really like her, which he thought he pretty much already did, then he’d have to confront and possibly abandon his own conviction about not being in a committed relationship right now because of the demands of his profession.

Or he could not see her at all. Too late. Here he was in her family room and that was her standing in front of him. All right, so he couldn’t stop thinking about her and, yes, he had initiated this meeting between them. But now that he had, he was sorry—not because he didn’t feel anything for her, but because he did. And he didn’t like that. But since he did, it would really hurt now to find out that he reminded her of her deceased husband.

Damn, this was like a splash of cold water in the face. He’d gone down roads and pathways here in the past few moments that were really not called for. After all, what the two of them were doing here was trying to even a score. That was it. So he was attracted to her. So he’d gone to some lengths to see her. So what? He’d been here before in his thinking with other women.

No he hadn’t, Trey realized. Not even close. The way he felt about Cinda was new and different from anything he’d ever felt before. Hell, he’d only seen her twice in six months, but she’d filled every thought he’d had in that half a year. There was no denying that.

So stick to the script, Trey told himself. What difference does it make who you might remind her of? You didn’t come here to ask her to marry you. You came here because she agreed to pretend to be married to you. So get over yourself.

But he couldn’t. He realized that this ruse of his could work too darned well. After all, if he could see the resemblance between him and Chelsi, then so would everyone else, which, again, was what he wanted. But—and it was a big but—could he take a whole weekend of being told what a beautiful wife and daughter he had, with him already this attracted to Cinda and smitten with her baby? Wouldn’t that fill him with joy and pride? Oh, yeah, no doubt about that. All right, then, wasn’t it possible that he would then want to have that feeling permanently?

Extremely possible. And it wasn’t fair to either one of them. He had his life on the circuit, and she had her baby and memories of her deceased husband.

Very troubled now, Trey focused on Cinda, who was fussing with the baby’s outfit as he stood in front of her and watched. He put his hand on her bare arm. “Cinda, look at me.” She did, her expression sweet and expectant. Trey felt like such a jackass. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think I’ve made a big mistake in coming here. I don’t think this whole thing was a good idea at all. I think I should just leave.”

6

TREY WATCHED CINDA for the effect of his words on her.

“Leave? But why? Because you almost kissed me? Or because I almost let you? I admit it was sudden. And unexpected. But—” Her expression mirrored her sudden concern for him. “Trey, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

“I feel a little pale, but it has nothing to do with our ill-fated kiss. May I sit down?” He was already lowering himself onto the sofa’s cushions.

“Of course.” Cinda sat with him, perching her daughter on her lap. The baby immediately clutched her mother’s heavy gold chain necklace in both fists and tried to stuff it in her mouth. Cinda held on to her daughter’s fists and turned to him. “Tell me what’s wrong. Should I call for Major Clovis? She is a nurse.”

“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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