Something was going on.

Lila’s silver Subaru was parked in its usual spot in the concrete driveway. But it was far too early for her to be arriving home from work. James gave up the pretense of painting and watched as she got out of the car.

She was tall and curvy and had long blond curls that no amount of hair spray could tame. Lila had the body of a pinup girl and the brains of an accountant, a lethal combo. Then came his second clue that things were out of kilter. Lila was wearing jeans and a windbreaker. On a Monday.

He could have ignored all of that. Honestly, he was fine with the status quo. Lila had her job as vice president of the local bank, and James had the pleasure of dating women who were uncomplicated.

As he watched, Lila closed the driver’s door and opened the passenger door. Leaning in, she gave him a tantalizing view of a nicely rounded behind. He’d always had a thing for butts. Lila’s was first-class.

Suddenly, all thoughts of butts and sex and his long-ago love affair with his frustrating neighbor flew out the window.

Because when Lila straightened, she was holding a baby.

* * *

For Baby’s Sake is part of Mills & Boon Desire’s No. 1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men … wrapped around their babies’ little fingers.

For Baby’s Sake
Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author JANICE MAYNARD loved books and writing even as a child. But it took multiple rejections before she sold her first manuscript. Since 2002, she has written over thirty-five books and novellas. Janice lives in east Tennessee with her husband, Charles. They love hiking, traveling and spending time with family.

You can connect with Janice at Twitter.com/janicemaynard Facebook.com/janicemaynardreaderpage Wattpad.com/user/janicemaynard and Instagram.com/janicemaynard.

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For Stacy Boyd, editor extraordinaire! She has been with the Kavanaghs from the beginning and loves them (almost) as much as I do.

Stacy juggles a beautiful family and a demanding career with grace and professionalism.

Here’s to many more books together.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Extract

Copyright

One

James Kavanagh liked working with his hands. Unlike his oldest brother, Liam, who spent his days wearing an Italian tailored suit, James was most comfortable in old jeans and T-shirts. Truth be told, it was a good disguise. No one expected a rich man to look like a guy who labored for a paycheck.

That was fine with James. He didn’t need people sucking up to him because he was a Kavanagh. He wanted to be judged on his own merits. Sure, he was entitled to a share of the family fortune. And yes, he’d added to that considerable pot with his own endeavors.

But at the end of the day, a man was only as rich as his reputation.

At the moment, James was painting the soffits on his own house in the heart of Silver Glen, North Carolina. The 1920s bungalow was a beauty; original hardwood floors, large windows that let in plenty of light and a front porch that was made for enjoying warm summer evenings.

Of course, summer was little more than a memory now. Before long, it would be time to put up the Christmas lights. When he’d thought about tackling that chore, he realized he had some peeling paint that needed attention. Such was the life of a carpenter. He poured most of his man-hours into renovating other people’s homes. His own place came way down the list.

As he dipped his paintbrush in the can balanced precariously on the top of the ladder, something disturbed his concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the house next door. Lila’s house. A house he once knew all too well.

It didn’t matter. He was over her. Completely. The two of them had been a fire that burned hot and bright, leaving only ashes. It was for the best. Lila was too uptight, too driven, too everything.

Still, something was going on. Lila’s silver Subaru was parked in its usual spot in the concrete driveway. But it was far too early for her to be arriving home from work. He gave up the pretense of painting and watched as she got out of the car.

She was tall and curvy and had long blond curls that no amount of hair spray could tame. Lila had the body of a pinup girl and the brains of an accountant—a lethal combo. Then came his second clue that things were out of kilter. Lila was wearing jeans and a Windbreaker. On a Monday.

He could have ignored all of that. Honestly, he was fine with the status quo. Lila had her job as vice president of the local bank, and James had the pleasure of dating women who were uncomplicated. Not bimbos. He had his standards, after all. There was nothing wrong, though, with a guy having fun.

Did it matter if his most recent girlfriend thought Kazakhstan was a new heavy metal band? Not every woman had to be a rocket scientist.

As he watched, Lila closed the driver’s door and opened the door to the backseat. Leaning in, she gave him a tantalizing view of a nicely rounded ass. He’d always had a thing for butts. Lila’s was first-class.

Suddenly, all thoughts of butts and sex and his long-ago love affair with his frustrating neighbor flew out the window. Because when Lila straightened, she was holding a baby.

* * *

Lila had a blistering headache. It didn’t help that James Kavanagh was watching her every move. He didn’t even try to hide his interest. Sometimes she thought he deliberately worked outside so she could see his gorgeous body and obsess about everything she had lost.

Today she didn’t care. Today she was in deep doo-doo. The humor in that comparison barely even registered.

Grabbing Sybbie’s little body in a death grip so the squirmy infant wouldn’t slide though her arms, Lila marched across the yard. At the base of James’s ladder, she paused and stared up at him. “I need help,” she said bluntly. “Will you come down so we can talk?”

If he agreed, it would be the first time in almost three years that the two of them had carried on more of a conversation than “nice day” or “your mail’s on the porch.” They tolerated each other. Politely. Which was not an easy thing to do when you had seen a man naked.

She closed that door firmly. “James?”

He appeared to be frozen. Suddenly, he dropped his paintbrush in the bucket and wiped his hands. “Of course.”

As he descended the ladder, she was forced to back up. James was a big guy. Not fat. Oh, no. Not an ounce of spare flab anywhere on his six-foot-three-inch body. His brothers called him the gentle giant. It was an apt description.

James had the physique of a man who could break boulders with his bare hands. Muscular, broad-shouldered and impressively strong, he was a man’s man. He also happened to be incredibly tender when making love to a woman who was half his size, but that was information from another time, another place, another Lila.

He stared at the baby, his expression inscrutable. “What’s up, Lila? Who’s this little charmer?” His thick, wavy, chestnut hair was overdue for a trim.

“Her name is Sybbie. My half sister died. She and her boyfriend. In a car accident.” It was still difficult to talk about, still impossible to believe.

“God, honey. I’m so sorry.”

She swallowed hard, almost undone by the genuine sympathy and concern in his rich brown eyes and deep voice. “I hadn’t seen her in a decade. She didn’t like me very much. But for some reason, she named me in her will as the baby’s guardian. Sybbie is almost eight months old.”

James’s intense scrutiny made her nervous. “And you accepted?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the short term. There may be other options. But for now, I have her.”

“I see.” She felt his doubt almost tangibly. James knew her feelings about children. It was part of the reason they had split up. “So, why do you need to talk to me?”

“My house needs some modifications.”

“For a short-term situation?”

“I am a responsible adult. I won’t endanger a baby simply because it inconveniences me. My bedroom is on the top floor. I want to turn the dining room into a nursery, and I’ll move into the downstairs bedroom.”

“Makes sense.”

His grudging approval eased some of the tightness in her chest. “Do you have time in your schedule to do what needs to be done?” James bought houses and flipped them. His work was meticulous. Many of the finest homes in the historic district had been restored by James.

“I’ll have to juggle some things, but I think I can make it work. Who’s going to keep the kid?”

It was a fair question and an obvious one. The only fully licensed child care center in Silver Glen took babies when they were twelve months or older. “I’ve used my paid time off for bereavement and more than a week of my two-week vacation, counting today. But I have four days left.”

“Four days? What about maternity leave?” His raised eyebrow made her feel guilty for no good reason.

“That will only kick in if I actually adopt Sybbie. The auditors will be here next Monday. I can’t miss that. I’ll figure out something.”

James stared at her. She refused to fidget. Working in the upper echelons of a profession traditionally dominated by men had taught her to look unshakeable even when she was nervous on the inside.

When he still didn’t speak, she snapped at him. “What?”

James’s shoulders lifted and fell in a deep sigh. “Caring for an eight-month-old is a lot of work.” He wasn’t merely tossing out platitudes. All six of his brothers were married, and most of them had kids. The youngest Kavanagh sibling was a beloved uncle. She had seen that with her own two eyes...a hundred years ago when she had been James’s girlfriend for a tempestuous three months.

He was right to have doubts about her. But at the moment, she didn’t see any other options. “I know that,” she said quietly, refusing to be hurt by his unspoken assessment of her nurturing talents. “I’m not afraid of hard work. Will you come next door with me and let me show you what I’m thinking?”

“Sure.”

He strode beside her as they crossed from his handkerchief-sized lawn to hers. The next embarrassing moment was not being able to unlock the front door while holding the baby.

James took the little girl without asking. At last the stupid key turned and they were able to go inside. The house hadn’t changed at all since the last time James was here. But he didn’t utter a single comment to make her uncomfortable. An observer would have noticed nothing in his demeanor to suggest that he and Lila had once made love leaning over the sturdy, oak dining room table.

Her cheeks heated. “Through here,” she muttered.

Sybbie seemed enamored with the new man in her life. She was a quiet, easy child, her temperament sunny unless she was tired or hungry.

Lila stopped in the kitchen doorway. “I don’t really need a dining room, anyway. I never use it. After Sybbie is gone, the nursery could always be turned into a small den or a sitting room for the guest room.”

James rubbed the baby’s downy head. She had hair that was white-blond, her pink cheeks completing the look of a chubby angel. “How long will that be, Lila? Do you even know?”

“I told you. I’m not sure.” And there was the rub. Because for Lila to function at maximum capacity, she really needed to be sure. About everything. Uncertainty drove her nuts. Since the moment she’d received the heart-wrenching phone call about her sister’s death, life had been nothing but uncertainty.

James took a step away, allowing her to breathe normally. He examined load-bearing walls, scribbled a few measurements on a scrap of paper and paced off the dimensions of the dining room. All the while holding the baby as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

At last, he turned. “Shouldn’t be a problem. But you and Sybbie will need to move over to my place for a couple of nights. When I’m sledgehammering walls, it won’t be safe for you or the baby to breathe the air.”

“What about you?”

“I wear a mask when I’m doing demolition.”

“I’m sure I could go to a hotel for a few nights.” The thought of sleeping under James’s roof again gave her hives.

His scowl told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of the hotel idea. That had been one of their problems actually. James had a maddening habit of telling people what to do. The two of them had butted heads over the issue time and again.

“Be reasonable, Lila,” he said, clearly trying for a conciliatory tone. “A hotel is no place for a baby. I have a refrigerator for formula and everything you could possibly need, save a baby bed. But you were going to have to buy that, anyway.”

What he said made perfect sense. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. “James, um...well, considering our past...it would be—”

He held up his hand, his expression grim. “Let me stop you right there. The past is the past, Lila. You and I were a bad match from the beginning. But we both know that now. You’re a neighbor and a friend. That’s all. What happened three years ago has nothing to do with this.”

Her stomach curled. That was easy for him to say. James had moved on. And he hadn’t wasted any time. She’d seen him with a parade of women, each one more beautiful than the last. It wasn’t James’s feelings she was worried about. It was her own.

James Kavanagh had no interest in bedding her again. That was clear. But she still had feelings for him, even if most of those feelings were hormones. It would be incredibly foolhardy to put herself in his path. She had Sybbie to think of now. She couldn’t afford more heartbreak.

The trouble was, she was fresh out of options. James’s suggestion made perfect sense. But she didn’t have to like it. “Fine,” she said, trying not to sound huffy. “We’ll take you up on your kind invitation.”

His nod was terse. “Not tonight. I have a project I promised to finish up in the morning. But I’ll help you move tomorrow evening. You can have the baby bed delivered to my house.”

“James Kavanagh. You know I can’t do that. Gossip spreads faster than kudzu around here.”

He shrugged. “So what? I think my reputation can handle it. Are you worried about your fancy bank job?”

His smart-ass tone made her see red. “You always hated my job, didn’t you?”

He leaned against the door frame, his dark-eyed gaze unreadable. “I never hated the job, Lila. I merely hated the fact that it consumed you. There’s more to life than work.”

“Says the man with a trust fund. Some of us need a little security.”

The sudden silence mushroomed between them. Here they were, three full years after the nuclear detonation of their relationship, still fighting the same tired battle.

James shook his head. “I didn’t mean to go there. I’m sorry.”

“Me, either. Maybe this will work better if we pretend we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I’m that good of an actor, but I’ll try. What if you order the baby bed tomorrow morning, and I’ll pick it up after work?”

“And tonight?”

“You can keep her upstairs with you for one night. You have a king-size bed...right?”

“Yes.” He knew full well that she did, damn it. They had certainly made use of the big mattress and the spindled headboard.

“Put Sybbie in with you and tuck the covers as tightly as you can under the mattress. That way she won’t be able to roll out.”

“Okay. You’re right. That will be fine.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. Sybbie was almost asleep, her tiny eyelids drooping. “Is that all?” James asked. “I need to get back to work.”

Lila flushed. She had asked him to treat her like a virtual stranger. But she hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. “Of course,” she said brightly. “Let me take her from you.”

James seemed almost reluctant to give up the little girl. Maybe he thought Lila wasn’t capable of being a competent caregiver. When the baby passed from him to her, James’s fingers brushed Lila’s breasts. It was a simple contact. Unavoidable. Fleeting at best.

Even so, her body’s instinctive reaction told her the next few weeks were going to be a challenge. She’d gotten over James Kavanagh once. She didn’t have it in her to do it again.

Two

James got out of bed, thirsty, at 3:00 a.m. As he stood in the bathroom and downed a glass of water, it was impossible to ignore the fact that a light burned in Lila’s upstairs bedroom window. Hell. The baby must be awake.

It wasn’t any of his business. It wasn’t his concern.

He could give himself all the lectures in the world, but it wasn’t going to change the facts. Lila was in trouble, and he needed to fix things.

Wasn’t this the theme of one of their many fights? She was a grown woman who wanted to take care of herself.

But tonight was different. Being a new parent was hard and scary for almost everyone. Especially a woman with a kid who wasn’t even her own...a child who had been thrust willy-nilly into the middle of Lila’s perfectly manicured life.

Cursing beneath his breath, he pulled on a pair of pants and shoved his feet into leather slippers. It was in the thirties outside. He found a clean button-up shirt and threw his leather jacket on over it.

Then he stopped, stymied by how to get past this next hurdle. If he rang the doorbell at this ungodly hour, he might scare Lila to death. Even worse, if the baby was finally on the verge of sleep. Lila would string him up by his toes if he woke little Sybbie.

There really was only one logical choice. He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts. He didn’t want to admit he still had Lila’s phone number. It wasn’t a thing. He’d just never gotten around to deleting it.

Quickly, he typed a text:

I see your light on. Would you like me to come hold the baby so you can sleep for a few hours? I was up anyway.

He leaned against the wall beside the window, looking for a reaction. Nothing happened. It was possible that Lila had left her phone downstairs. Or maybe it was turned off. Damn.

Suddenly, his phone dinged.

Yes! Please. I suck at this.

He laughed out loud. That was one thing he’d always loved about Lila, her sense of humor. He ran down the stairs and out the side door, oddly unconcerned that it was the middle of the night. He didn’t require a lot of sleep, anyway. Helping out with little Sybbie wouldn’t be a hardship.

On Lila’s porch, he paused, but she was at the door ready to let him in. When he saw her, he had to hold back a chuckle. She was undeniably disheveled. She had tried to put her hair up in a ponytail, but the baby must have grabbed it, because one whole side was falling down.

On her T-shirt he saw what might have been a mixture of baby food and drool. He cocked his head and smiled. “Tough day at the office, dear?”

Lila bristled. “Don’t make fun of me, James Buchanan Kavanagh. I might have to shoot you in cold blood, and then what would poor Sybbie do? Her aunt in prison and her only babysitter deader than dead.”

He raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Message received. Show me where the cable remote is and go to bed. Little Princess and I will be fine.”

Lila hesitated. “Seriously, James? This isn’t your problem. You have to work tomorrow.”

“So do you,” he said firmly. “And it’s a good bet that juggling Sybbie for twelve hours will be a heckuva lot harder than sitting behind your desk all day.”

“Is that a criticism?” She was tired, but not too tired to give him grief.

“Only an observation.” He took the baby from her. “I can find the remote on my own. Go. You’re about to fall over.”

Her gorgeous blue eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, James.”

Lila was not the crying type. Tomorrow it would piss her off that he had seen her at such a vulnerable point. But there was nothing he could do about that. “It’s not a big deal, Lila. Get some sleep.”

The fact that she obeyed him without further protest told him she was at the end of her rope. This was only her first week as a mom. How was she going to manage?

Shaking off his disquiet, he concentrated on the little girl who nestled so trustingly in his arms. She was tired. Anybody could see that. Maybe it was the new surroundings that had her out of sorts. Poor kid wouldn’t understand why her parents weren’t around...or why she wasn’t in her familiar bedroom.

“Come on, little Sybbie. Let’s see what Aunt Lila has on late-night cable.”

Seeing the soft, high-end leather sofa gave him a weird vibe. He and Lila had spent many a night cuddling on that particular piece of furniture. Nothing good would come of dwelling on those memories. It would only make him horny, and tonight he had better things to do than rehash old love affairs.

By the time he settled into the soft cushions, dimmed the lights and wrapped an afghan around the baby, little Sybbie was yawning. He rubbed her back and sang to her softly about small spiders and babies rocking in trees. She smelled good...like babies were supposed to smell.

He was struck by a bolt of sadness that made no sense. Everything in his life was going great. It was true he envied his brothers and their growing families, but he was young. He had plenty of time to find the kind of woman his siblings had found. Then it would be time for him to do the whole slippers-by-the-fire thing. Making sure Sybbie was secure against his chest, he yawned and closed his eyes. The baby was asleep already. He would catch a few z’s before she woke up again. That’s what all the baby experts said. Sleep when the baby sleeps...

* * *

Lila fell into bed and was dead to the world in seconds. An hour later, though, she sat straight up, her heart racing in a panicked rhythm. Sybbie. Where was she?

Everything came crashing back. The past day and night had been a challenge, but Lila had done everything she was supposed to do. Sybbie had eaten a good dinner of pears and sweet potatoes, Gerber style. Then, she had seemed perfectly happy and normal when Lila got out a collection of small metal pots and pans and colorful plastic containers. She even laughed when Lila built towers on the rug and helped Sybbie knock them down.

Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred until Lila tried to give the baby her bedtime bottle. Lila had researched the appropriate formulas and amounts. Carefully, she tested the temperature on her wrist to make sure it was exactly right. Sybbie responded with a happy gurgle.

What was supposed to happen next was that the baby went to sleep until morning. Unfortunately, Sybbie hadn’t read the same baby manuals. She finished her bottle and wanted to play again. That lasted until midnight, at which point she threw a baby-sized tantrum.

It wasn’t the little one’s fault. Poor sweetheart had had her life turned upside down. Knowing the cause, though, didn’t help when Lila’s body craved sleep. Getting James’s text was a lifesaver. She probably shouldn’t have accepted his offer so quickly, but she had been almost comatose.

Now she’d had just enough of a snooze that her adrenaline was flowing again. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Carefully, she crept down the stairs, avoiding the ones that squeaked. If Sybbie was asleep, she dared not wake her up.

The scene in the living room took her heart and gave it a good hard twist, almost a physical pain. The lights were low. The TV was on, but the sound was muted. James was stretched out with his feet propped on the coffee table. Sybbie slept blissfully on James’s chest, her knees tucked under her and her little bottom up in the air.

The afghan had fallen to the floor, but neither man nor baby seemed to care.

What should she do now? With the hour of good, solid sleep she’d had, surely she could take over and let James go home. But it seemed a shame to wake him. Not only that, if they disturbed the baby, all of James’s efforts would have been in vain.

Lila yawned. According to the mantel clock, it was still a good two hours before the sun would come up. She might as well join them. Grabbing the afghan off the floor, she covered her two guests and found a blanket of her own. She curled up in the recliner and closed her eyes.

* * *

James groaned, trying to figure out why his back ached and why the dog was sitting on his chest. He opened his eyes and blinked. The world came into focus slowly. It was eight o’clock in the morning, and his charge still slept peacefully. He needed to hit the john, but he didn’t want to disturb the child.

Across the room, Lila was a lump in the recliner, the top of her head barely visible above the edge of her blanket. He smiled in spite of his physical discomfort. She must have come downstairs at some point and not wanted to wake him.

Evidently, he made a noise in spite of himself, because she jerked straight up in the chair and stared around the room wild-eyed.

He waved a hand to get her attention. “Everything is fine,” he whispered. “The baby’s still sleeping.”

Lila stood up and stretched, giving him a mouthwatering view of her flat belly and cute navel. “Thank God for that,” she muttered. Then she frowned at him. “Why are you still here? You have to go to work.”

Her tone irritated him. “You might try saying, ‘Thank you, James.’ ‘You saved my butt, James.’”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I do appreciate it.” She sounded like a little kid being forced to thank Grandma for an ugly Christmas sweater.

Their entire conversation was being conducted in whispers. Thankfully, Sybbie was sleeping so deeply now, she never stirred. She had missed out on several hours of slumber the night before. Clearly, she was making up for lost time.

Carefully, he stood up, his hand cradling the baby’s back. “If you’ll take her, I’ll go home and get ready for work. I wouldn’t leave, but I promised Mrs. Bellamy that I’d finish stabilizing her banister and newel post this morning.”

Lila was flushed, either from sleep or because she was flustered. “Of course you have to go.”

They finessed the baby transfer without a hitch.

James rubbed the crick in his neck. “Can you manage ordering the baby bed?”

“Yes,” Lila said, her voice curt. “I’m not totally incompetent.”

“I never said you were.”

They stared at each other across the room, the sofa between them. Old wounds had inexplicably opened up, leaving both of them on edge.

Lila sighed deeply. “I apologize, James, for being so touchy. It’s the lack of sleep. I’m extremely grateful for everything you did last night.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you later. We’ll come up with a plan.”

Three

Lila had to fight the urge to beg. Don’t leave me. I can’t do this. Please help me. She swallowed the words and bit down on her lip until the door closed behind James. Then she sank into a chair and sighed. What was she supposed to do now? Maybe she could grab a little more sleep to get her through the afternoon and evening.

But no sooner had she sat down than Sybbie woke up, her blue eyes sunshiny with happiness. She reached up to pull Lila’s earring. Lila intercepted the small fingers. “No, sweet thing. You’re too young for that. Come on, baby girl. How do you feel about mango applesauce and toast?”

* * *

The day flew by, but inexplicably, Lila had nothing to show for it by five o’clock other than a hamper full of dirty clothes, a floor strewn with makeshift toys and a kitchen that looked like it had been ground zero for a nuclear explosion.

She did get online and order the crib and mattress and bedding, but only because she couldn’t bear to see the look of smug superiority James would give her if she dropped the ball on that detail. The baby store was a local company in Silver Glen. They delivered the boxes to her front porch before the close of the business day. She’d texted James and told him he didn’t need to pick them up. That had never been an option as far as she was concerned.

When he showed up at her door at five thirty, it would have been nice if she could have invited him in for a nice hot dinner...maybe wearing a cute top and a flirty above-the-knee skirt. Instead, he was about to see the disaster that was her day.

Balancing the baby on her hip, she shoved the hair from her face and opened the door. “Hey,” she said. “Did you get everything done you needed to do?”

He nodded, but he looked tired. “Yep. How’s my girl?”

Lila’s heart skipped a beat until she realized the teasing affection was directed at the baby.

James took Sybbie and nuzzled her nose with his. “How’s it hangin’, sweetheart?”

The Kavanagh men, one and all, were handsome, virile and completely charming. An eight-month-old baby didn’t stand a chance. Lila had spent an entire day playing the clown to keep her charge in a good mood. All James had to do was show up and the child was instantly mesmerized. Sigh...

“I was going to order takeout,” Lila said. “Would you like me to get enough for two?”

James nodded. “Sounds good. I’m easy to please. After you make that call, why don’t you gather what you and Sybbie need, and I’ll start carrying everything over to my place. I’ve cleared out the downstairs bedroom.”

Lila knew that the floor plan of James’s house was similar to hers. But he had turned his traditional dining room into an office. For a couple of nights, it would work as a nursery. Still, she felt guilty.

“It’s the off-season,” she said. “I’m sure your mom would give me a room up at the hotel.” The Silver Beeches Lodge was Silver Glen’s premier accommodation, where the rich and famous went to get away from it all and have their privacy protected. Located on top of the mountain, it commanded a spectacular view of the valley below. It was owned by the Kavanagh family and managed by James’s oldest brother, Liam, and his mother, Maeve Kavanagh.

“Of course she would. But it’s not necessary, Lila. I’m right next door.”

What he said made sense, but she was uneasy about the idea.

He saw her hesitation. His jaw firmed. “If you’re worried about you and me, don’t be. I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, I swear.”

Except be you. That was the tough part. She had learned to pretend James Kavanagh didn’t exist. The subterfuge would be impossible to maintain now. “I know you won’t,” she said defensively. She didn’t want him to think she was pining away for him.

“Okay, then. I’ll take the baby bed over and put it together. Call me when the food gets here.”

* * *

James wasn’t stupid. He knew Lila didn’t want his help, and he also knew she was antsy around him. Though they had ended their relationship long ago, the physical pull was still there. He sure as hell felt it.

If Lila had been faced with any crisis, he would have offered to assist, even if she turned him down. But in this instance, there was a baby involved. Lila might not want his help with her niece, but she was going to get it.

Knocking the crib together was no trouble at all. He barely even glanced at the instructions. He’d spent most of his adult life working with tools and lumber and varnish and paint. Maybe because he’d never known his father, he’d always been drawn to pursuits that were traditionally masculine. As if he could somehow make up for his male parent’s absence.

The patriarch of the Kavanagh family was the stuff of legend. James was the only brother who had no memory of him at all, though even Patrick’s recollections were hazy. Reggie Kavanagh had become obsessed with finding the lost silver mine that launched the family fortunes decades before.

Kavanagh wealth and influence had founded Silver Glen. The small town with its alpine feel and cozy charm drew visitors from all over the world. Careful planning and restriction had kept overbuilding under control.

Sadly, Reggie Kavanagh gave his life in pursuit of a pipe dream. He set out one day on yet another of his hunting expeditions—hunting for the lost mine—and never returned. After several years, the coroner issued a death certificate listing the deceased as “presumed dead,” but not knowing for sure had left its mark on each of the Kavanaghs in different ways.

James stood and stretched his back. The bed looked sturdy and shiny. He would let Lila deal with the sheets and stuff. Women had ideas about that kind of thing.

He cleaned up the leftover bits and pieces and carried the cardboard out to the recycle bin. It was dark now. The lights shining from Lila’s house cast a cozy glow across the space that separated their homes. Sometimes he wondered if he and Lila could have done anything differently to salvage their relationship. But in the end, he had concluded that they were simply too different.

They wanted vastly divergent things out of life. The gulf was so wide, neither of them had been able to see any room for compromise.

James hated failing at anything. Growing up with six brothers had honed his competitive instincts. But love wasn’t a sport. Sex? Maybe. Love? Not at all.

In his pocket, his cell phone dinged. He pulled it out.

Pizza’s here.

His stomach rumbled right on cue. Not bothering to lock his door, he loped across the side yard. He wasn’t in love with Lila anymore. He probably never was. But he was curiously pleased about the thought of having her close at hand again.

Did that make him a sick, complicated bastard? Perhaps. Still, there were worse addictions. Lila’s front door was unlocked, so he let himself in. Crime happened in Silver Glen, but it was rare. The community was tight-knit, and visitors tended to be movers and shakers who paid top dollar for lodging.

He found his two soon-to-be houseguests in Lila’s kitchen. Apparently, Lila had ordered a high chair in addition to the bed. Sybbie seemed to be enjoying her new perch.

Lila shoved the box across the table. “Help yourself. I bought plenty.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that she remembered his favorite toppings. Lila Baxter was a detail person... Type A to the max, but in a lot of good ways. She was organized and energetic, and she had a knack for juggling several projects at once. It wasn’t her fault that life had tossed her the one ball she was likely to drop.

They ate quietly except for the baby’s gurgles and coos. He could hear a clock ticking in the other room.

To anyone looking in the window, they would appear to be an ordinary American family. Appearances could be deceiving.

When he couldn’t let the uncomfortable silence drag on a moment more, he stood up abruptly. “Why don’t I take Sybbie? That will make it easier for you to pack a bag.”

Lila nodded, her eyes not quite meeting his. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

James took the baby and left, his chest tight. At this rate, he and Lila were going to kill each other with politeness. It was a stupid, artificial situation. But the only alternatives he knew with her were hot, crazy sex and shouting matches. Neither of those was gonna fly right now, so kindness it was.

Four

Lila was still learning how to pack a diaper bag. The sheer amount of stuff a baby needed these days was incredible. She threw a few of her own things into a small carry-all and made one last sweep of the bedroom to be sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

Walking into James’s house took all the courage she possessed. She paused in the foyer, hearing his footsteps upstairs and the rumble of his voice as he talked to the baby.

While man and child were occupied, she scoped out the new living arrangements. James had made amazing progress in such a short time frame. She knew he had a habit of using his spare bedroom for a dumping ground. But all the sports equipment and miscellany had been cleared away. The queen bed was neatly made and the small attached bathroom was spotless.

In the office, James had moved things out of the way to accommodate the crib. Lila put a sheet on the small mattress and smoothed the wrinkles from the soft cotton that was printed with gamboling monkeys and bananas. Already, she had decided not to shroud little Sybbie in everything pink. This was the twenty-first century. Her niece might grow up to be president one day.

James and Sybbie found her just as she was finishing up. She wrinkled her nose. “I think I read somewhere that you’re supposed to wash baby things before you use them the first time. But I don’t want to delay her bedtime.”

“It won’t matter for just one night. You can do a load of laundry tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Wow. This was never going to work if they couldn’t loosen up. The tension headache had started as soon as she walked into his house.

James’s phone dinged, signaling a text. When he pulled it out and looked at it, his face reddened.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, faintly alarmed by the look of consternation on his face.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. But I have a date tonight and I need to hit the road.”

She gaped at him before snapping her mouth shut and straightening her spine. “I’ll take Sybbie. Have fun.” The words felt like sandpaper in her throat. She took the baby from him, careful not to let her hands brush his.

“We’ll try not to disturb you when we come in.”

We? Lila felt the color drain from her cheeks. Her stomach felt funny...as if she had swallowed bad milk. “No problem. I’ll close our doors. You won’t bother us at all.”

* * *

James strode out of his own house like a felon fleeing the scene of a crime. He jumped in his car, turned the ignition hard enough to bend the key and peeled out of the driveway with a squeal of tires. Hell, hell, hell. Why had he ever suggested this asinine arrangement?

He’d completely forgotten he had a date with a beautiful woman tonight. A woman who had given strong hints that she was up for any kind of recreation he had in mind. There was absolutely no reason in the world for him to feel guilty about his social calendar.

Then why did the memory of Lila’s stricken expression make him feel like a complete ass?

During dinner and a movie, he told himself to forget about Sybbie and Lila. He’d offered them a temporary home while he knocked out a wall. No big deal.

Even though his companion for the evening was sweet and smart and probably nicer than he deserved, he could barely keep up with the conversation over drinks at his brother’s watering hole, The Silver Dollar Saloon. Fortunately, Dylan wasn’t in residence. James wasn’t in the mood to be razzed about anything, much less his attractive date.

Somehow, he felt as if he had cheated on two women, but the truth was, he hadn’t done anything dishonest at all. His righteous indignation prompted him to ask his date in for coffee. At his house.

But after two cups of decaf, when she made it clear she expected to be escorted upstairs, he created some lame excuse about having to get up early and took her home.

By the time he made it back, it was late. Late enough that Lila was probably, hopefully, asleep. He was cranky and horny and tired. And now he had to tiptoe around his own house.

He let himself in quietly and took his shoes off at the front door. Since he’d moved in half a dozen years ago, he had put a lot of TLC into the little house. Now there wasn’t a single stair that creaked, which hopefully meant he wouldn’t disturb his houseguest when he went up to his room.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet. He was wired. Maybe he could grab a beer and watch some TV with the sound turned down so as not to bother anybody. It was a good plan until he pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and flipped on the light, practically mowing down Lila in the process and causing her to drop a glass of milk that shattered all over the floor.

“Good Lord.” He grabbed her arms to steady her. She was wearing a tank top and pajama pants, leaving her shoulders bare. He had forgotten how soft her skin was, how fragile her bones.

Lila jerked away from him, her eyes huge, her pupils dilated. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted something to drink.”

“Don’t move. You’ll cut yourself.” Her feet were bare. He picked her up by the waist and set her on the counter. “Let me get this mess cleaned up.”

He felt Lila’s gaze on him as he grabbed a broom and a wet rag to deal with the floor. But she didn’t say a word. He was glad. There wasn’t a knife big enough to cut the tension in the room.

When he finished his task, he straightened and stared at her. “I owe you an apology,” he said gruffly.

“For what?”

“What I said earlier about being quiet when we came in. It was a cheap shot. In a battle you and I aren’t even fighting anymore.”

“So you didn’t sleep with her?”

James was pretty sure she didn’t mean to blurt that out. “No. I didn’t. We only just met.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

He sucked in a breath and watched Lila’s face turn red. This was why things were always going to be like a minefield between the two of them. The memories were combustible. Lila had moved into her new house on a Monday almost three and a half years ago. James had gone over to meet the new neighbor and offer his assistance. Two weeks later they were in bed together.

“Let’s not get sidetracked,” he said, wishing his throat wasn’t so damn dry. “I was trying to apologize.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Why, indeed? Lila’s blue eyes judged him and found him guilty...or so it seemed. He shrugged. “I didn’t want you to get any ideas. Or to think that my invitation was something more than it was.”

Her small smile was wry. “I didn’t. Believe me. We were pretty dreadful together. I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Not all of it was so terrible.” He saw in her eyes that she remembered the same things he did. The incredible sexual chemistry that made them crazy for each other.

“No,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t all bad. But we’re too smart to go down that road again. Aren’t we?”

That was the million-dollar question. Three years ago they had fought incessantly, almost from the beginning. He resented her crazy hours. She was angry that he didn’t understand her need to prove herself and pursue a promotion. James wanted to start a family before he turned thirty. Lila didn’t think she wanted to have children at all.

In the end, all the fabulous sex in the world couldn’t disguise the fact that they were oil and water. And both hardheaded, to boot.

After a few beats of silence, he cleared his throat. “Did the baby have any trouble going to sleep?”

Lila pulled her knees to her chest and linked her arms around her legs. “No, thank goodness. I actually called Mia for advice. She told me I should put Sybbie down awake and let her coo and squirm until she put herself to sleep. It worked. I couldn’t believe it, but it worked.”

Mia was James’s sister-in-law...Dylan’s wife. She and Lila had become friends three years ago, and fortunately, the friendship had survived James and Lila’s breakup.

It was no wonder the two women had bonded. They were both extremely smart and ambitious.

“You look tired,” he said impulsively.

“Another cheap shot?” Her expression was equal parts wary and defensive.

“Not at all. I suppose that was my way of saying I’m worried about you. This whole situation with your sister’s death can’t have been easy, even if you were estranged. You never told me much about your family when you and I were dating.”

It was Lila’s turn to shrug. “Not much to tell. My dad walked out when I was three. My mother married again and got pregnant right away. But she was a functioning alcoholic and my new stepfather was a recreational drug user, so we lived close to the poverty line. My half sister, Alicia, followed their example.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Alicia and I struggled through the typical sibling rivalries, but as we got older, I did well in school, and she didn’t. I think she may have had a learning disability.”

“So you had a way out of a bad situation, and she didn’t.”

“Yes. I’ve always wondered if I could have done more to help her.”

“People make their own choices, good or bad.”

“I know. Still, it made me sad.”

“And you didn’t know she had named you as Sybbie’s guardian?”

“Not a clue. I was completely shocked.”

“My guess is that she knew you were smart and successful and that she could trust you with the baby.”

“Maybe. Or I could have been the lesser of two evils. My mother is still living, but she has multiple health issues. She wouldn’t be able to handle a small child at her age and in her condition. My brother-in-law grew up in foster homes, so there’s no one on that side of the family.”

“Which leaves you.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be legally compelled by a will you knew nothing about.”

“I know. My lawyer made that clear. But how can I let her go to foster care and the adoptive system? How would I live with myself?”

“There’s time to think about it. You can’t solve everything in one night.”

When Lila tried to hop down from the counter, he stopped her. “I may not have gotten all the glass. Hold still.” He took her by the waist again, swung her over the sticky area and set her in the doorway. “Do you want me to get you another glass of milk?”

Lila shook her head. “No. I’m good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I have a housekeeper who comes in at ten. I’ve told her to avoid the guest room and my office for the time being.”

“I’m inconveniencing you. Why won’t you let me go to a hotel?”

“I think I owe you one.” He hadn’t meant to be so honest. Something about her demeanor tonight sneaked past his defenses.

She wrapped her arms around her waist. “You don’t owe me anything, James. Really. We both made mistakes. And it was a long time ago.”

“Okay. Fair enough. But quit worrying about everything so much. You’ll be back in your own house before you know it.”

Five

As it turned out, James’s prediction was wildly optimistic. The day after the milk incident, she barely saw him at all other than the times she peeked out the window and watched him going in and out of her house. He had ordered a Dumpster and had it delivered right outside. It was slowly filling with chunks of Sheetrock and pieces of wallpaper.

He had told Lila she and Sybbie would have to be displaced only two nights, but at dinner that first night—lasagna prepared by his wonderful housekeeper before she left—he sat down at the table and ran a hand through his hair, his expression agitated.

“What’s wrong, James?” He’d never been good at hiding his feelings. “Is it going to take longer than you thought?”

He rubbed his chin and shook his head. “I might have run into a bit of a snag today.”

Sybbie didn’t like having Lila’s attention elsewhere. She wailed until Lila gave her another bite of bread. “Go ahead and tell me,” Lila said. “I can handle bad news.”

“You have termites.”

She blinked at him. “Say that again?”

“Termites.”

“But I have a pest control service.”

“That’s a good thing, because they’ll have to repair the damage at their own expense. You still have termites, though. I can’t work on the renovation until we take care of that.”

Her throat got tight and her eyes burned. She was trying so hard to stay positive, but this was a kick in the stomach. “What do I need to do?”

His gaze softened. “You don’t have to do anything, Lila, except take care of this little sweetheart.” He tickled Sybbie’s neck and was rewarded with a smile. “I’ll handle your house issues. I’ve seen worse.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Too late.” His grin blinded her. “You’ve already hired me.”

“To do a modest renovation, not to rip out all my walls.”

“Don’t be a drama queen.”

She felt her temper rise and had to tamp it down. He was teasing her...that’s all. An old habit. Perhaps the reason she and James had fought so much when they were together was because the making up afterward had been so much fun. But that wasn’t going to happen this time around. Which meant she couldn’t let him press her buttons.

“How long are we talking about?”

“If your termite people are on the ball, not long. They’ll have to do a major treatment. The more pressing issue is whether or not you have termites anywhere else.”

She hadn’t even thought of that implication. “People told me not to buy an old house. I should have listened.”

“Oh, come on, Lila. You know you love the place.”

“I do. But I don’t want it falling down around my ears.”

Having an infant at the table made adult conversation difficult. By unspoken consent, they tabled the termite talk and played with the baby. Wistfully, Lila watched James interact with Sybbie. Maeve Kavanagh had raised seven sons, mostly on her own. She had instilled in them the value of hard work and what it meant to be a gentleman.

To an outsider, the Kavanagh men might seem very different from one another. But under the skin—beneath the superficial differences of physical appearance and career choice—they each were carbon copies when it came to their character. Alpha males one and all. Tough, uncompromising. Committed to doing what was right even when the choice was difficult.

Hence her stint camping out in James’s guest room.

“Tell me something,” she said impulsively.

He looked up, his beautiful brown eyes regarding her with a hint of reserve. Maybe he thought she was going to give him grief about last night. “What is it? What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

That wasn’t exactly true. He seemed like an open book, but she had a feeling she had only scratched the surface when it came to understanding James Kavanagh.

“Are you still looking for your father’s remains?”

“Where the hell did that come from?” Anger flashed in his gaze, warning her to tread lightly. But surely this was the key. Something about a son without a father and James’s insistence on having children. It wasn’t the kind of thing most guys who were barely thirty fixated on.

She handed Sybbie a small bite of banana. “When you and I were together, you spent a lot of weekends out in the woods. Searching. And every time you came home, I got the feeling you were upset. But I was always afraid to ask you.”

“Afraid? Of me?”

“I’m talking about your state of mind. When you came to pick me up for dates and you had been out on the mountain, I sensed a wildness in you, as if you were barely under control. Am I wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” His tone said back off.

“I never knew my father either, James, not really. It’s a sad way to grow up. But at least you have a fabulous mother...and all your siblings.”

“If you think I’m fixated on a bastard who deserted his family, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

She inhaled sharply. James spoke as if the wound was fresh. When in fact, it had happened almost three decades ago. “He didn’t desert you.”

“Of course he did.” His raised voice upset Sybbie. “Sorry, munchkin.” He stood abruptly, part of his meal uneaten. “I need a shower. After that, I’ll probably hit the hay early. Do you and the kid need anything?”

It was barely seven thirty. Obviously, this was his way of telling her he wanted to be alone. That she and Sybbie weren’t there to socialize with him. “We’re fine,” Lila said. “I’ll call the pest control people first thing in the morning. I would never have asked you to get involved if I had known this would be the outcome.”

“Think of it as a blessing in disguise. If I hadn’t started the renovation, you might not have known about the termites until they had done catastrophic damage. Good night, Lila.”

When he strode out of the room, she stared at Sybbie, who played with a pile of Cheerios, unfazed by the tension between the adults. “Well, kiddo. I guess it’s just you and me.”

Lila tidied up the kitchen and cleaned the baby’s sticky hands. After that, she took Sybbie into the guest room and sat on the bed with her reading a stack of board books she had ordered from Amazon the morning she realized she was going to become a temporary mom.

Sybbie sat between Lila’s legs, her soft, sweet-smelling body tucked in Lila’s embrace with simple trust. The future was a scary void. What were they going to do? How could they be a family?

Today during naptime, Lila had begun ticking off a list of calls: her coworkers at the bank, women in her yoga class, friends she had made since she had moved to Silver Glen. Every conversation left her more and more despondent. Apparently, good nannies were very hard to find.

Not only that, but they were expensive. Obviously, if you wanted to hire a young woman with credentials, you couldn’t pay teenage babysitter wages. Money aside, it might take several months to locate such a person. Lila didn’t have that much time.

She had to be at the bank come Monday. Quitting wasn’t an option, because then she wouldn’t be able to support herself and a child. The only alternative was to cobble together some part-time sitters until she could make a permanent decision about whether or not to keep Sybbie.

Truthfully, she already knew how things were going to play out. This precious, chubby infant shared her DNA. In only a few days, Lila had fallen in love with her. But maybe Sybbie deserved better. Lila wasn’t the nurturing type. She worked long hours. And at the very heart of the matter, she was scared—scared to be responsible for someone so tiny and vulnerable.

By the time she had bathed the baby and put her in a fresh diaper and pj’s, Sybbie was drooping. Lila laid her down in the crib and turned off the light. “Good night, sweet pea.” The baby was already turning onto her tummy and curling into her favorite sleeping position.

Lila closed the door quietly and stood in the middle of her bedroom. She was accustomed to being on her own. Ever since she went off to college, she’d had no one to depend upon but herself. She rarely saw her mother, mostly because her mother made it clear that she didn’t want Lila around.

Maybe Lila had made a pest of herself by offering to pay for rehab one too many times. Her mom didn’t want to be helped. She didn’t think she had a problem, even though at the recent funeral she had been so drunk or medicated or both that she was barely able to stand.

Back when James and Lila had been going out, there was a time when Lila fantasized about becoming a Kavanagh. Not only because James was smart and funny and seriously hot...but because the thought of belonging to the large, tight-knit family made her yearn for something she had never experienced. She didn’t know what it was like to always know that someone had your back...that in a crisis you didn’t have to face things alone.

Suddenly, a wave of panic swamped her. She had to get out of this house. Grabbing a jacket and the baby monitor, she slipped out the back door. The range on the small electronic device wasn’t extensive, but she would go as far as she could and still see the baby.

First, she slipped next door to her own house and surveyed the mess James had made. Her tidy dining room was gone. James had moved the table into the guest quarters that would eventually be Lila’s downstairs bedroom.

Everything was coated in a fine film of dust.

How was she going to manage? She didn’t know anything about being a parent. Moms were supposed to bake cookies and sew Halloween costumes and host sleepovers. Lila was happiest in a room alone with paper and figures and tasks that she had the skills to do well.

She was exhausted and grieving for her sister and, at the heart of it all, bruised in spirit. Bruised because the one man she had ever really felt deeply about didn’t want a woman like her.

The tears, when they came, took her by surprise. But instead of choking them back, she gave in to the barrage of pain and sorrow and fear. She’d been leaning against a wall. Now she slid to the floor and buried her head on her knees, sobbing until her chest hurt.

Six

James heard the back door open and shut. He watched from the upstairs bedroom window as Lila slipped across the side yard like a shadow. What the heck was she doing?

Don’t follow her. His gut was smarter than he was. He needed to keep his distance. Lila wasn’t his problem.

Five minutes later he cursed beneath his breath and went after his reluctant houseguest. He found her sitting on the dusty dining room floor, crying as if her heart was broken. His reaction stunned him. All he wanted to do was pick her up and carry her home and make love to her until she understood that everything was going to be okay.

Instead, he kept his distance and cleared his throat. Her head snapped up immediately. “James. What are you doing here? I have the monitor with me. I wouldn’t neglect the baby.”

Her face was blotched with tears, her nose red and her eyes puffy. “I know that, Lila.” She seemed so small and lost and alone. But he knew she was strong and confident and well respected by her peers at the bank. The president had hired her on the day she interviewed for the job. “Maybe it would help to talk about it,” he said quietly. “To a neutral third party.”

He wasn’t neutral about Lila. Probably never would be. The fact that he still cared about her made him a decent human being. Not a guy itching for another round of getting punched in the gut. She wasn’t what he needed. He wasn’t what she wanted.

Joining her on the floor, he stretched out his legs and sighed. “Let it out, Lila. I make a good confessional, I swear.”

In profile, her features were delicately carved. He saw the shuddering sob that signaled the end of her catharsis. Tears were good...for women at least. Sometimes he envied the fairer sex for their ability to express emotion. For him, it was usually chopping wood or hiking seven miles that took the edge off when he felt overwhelmed or sad.

“Talk to me, Lila.”

It took a long time, but finally she answered. “I don’t think I can keep Sybbie.”

Inwardly, he recoiled, but he kept his expression impassive. “Why not?”

“Look at me. You know who I am. I’m not the Martha Stewart type. I’m good at my job, but it requires long hours. That’s partly why you and I broke up. I don’t want Sybbie to be raised by a nanny. She deserves a traditional home with two parents. You and I both missed out on that. Surely it would be hypocritical of me to keep her when I can’t devote my time to raising her myself.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Lila froze. His sharp question had spewed out uncensored, revealing his visceral reaction to the idea that she would give away her niece. “Thanks for the support,” she said.

For a split second he saw anguish in her eyes. He didn’t want to cause her pain, but he also didn’t want her to make a decision she would regret later. Carefully, he put a hand on her arm, expecting her to knock it away. Instead, she froze. “I’m not your enemy, Lila. Let me help you.” He was trying to reach her through touch. They weren’t a couple anymore, but they were neighbors, and surely they could become friends again.

“You’re already helping me,” she said.

“That’s different. You hired me to do a job. Anyone could have done that for you.”

“Then what do you mean?”

He squeezed her arm and let go. “I want to talk to you about something, but I’d feel more comfortable if we were closer to Sybbie. Let’s go back and I’ll pour us a couple glasses of wine.”

* * *

Lila had hit rock bottom. It was bad enough when she and James broke up. But she’d had her job and her friends to distract her. Tonight, she knew she had disappointed him. Why couldn’t he understand that she was proud of her job...that she enjoyed her work?

James surely had gleaned some of his ideas about women from 1960s sitcoms. He wanted a wife who would greet her husband at the door with a baby on one hip and a beer in the other. For him. Of course. His attitude really made no sense, because his own mother had worked her whole life, though admittedly in the family business.

Most of his sisters-in-law had careers. She’d never heard him be judgmental about them. Maybe it was only Lila’s life choices he found unacceptable.

In every other way, he seemed to be an enlightened male. But apparently not when it came to the future mother of his yet-to-be-born children.

James was already standing. She pretended not to see his outstretched hand. Instead, she got to her feet and brushed the sawdust from her legs. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll talk. But I can’t see how that changes anything.”

She absolutely had to show up for work Monday morning. Taking Sybbie with her was not an option. She was out of answers. Not only did she have zero prospects for a nanny, she had also bombed out when it came to lining up a few temporary babysitters. Of the two problems, the babysitter issue would be easier to solve. If she made another series of phone calls, she could surely find a few dependable people who could tag team during Lila’s working hours.

But did she really want to come home from an exhausting ten hours of work day after day and take care of Sybbie? She wasn’t a selfish person. Already, she loved the baby. Intellectually, she knew that many families with two working parents made this happen.

The difference was, Lila wasn’t married. Once the babysitters went home, she would bear the responsibility for everything else. The thought was not only daunting, it was terrifying.

And that was something James wasn’t going to understand. Not unless she told him her secrets. The things that gave her sleepless nights and caused her to wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares.

Stomach churning, she locked her front door and followed him across the yard. With the monitor in her hand, she was reassured that Sybbie was okay. The small, grainy image of the baby kept Lila from imagining the worst-case scenario.

She had assumed James would suggest they sit in his comfy living room to have their drinks. He must have thought that was too cozy, because he took the wine into the kitchen, opened it and poured two glasses. He offered her one and invited her to sit down.

Despite the late hour, there was nothing intimate or suggestive about the locale. The overhead illumination was bright. The refrigerator hummed quietly.

Finally, she couldn’t bear his silence any longer. “You said you wanted to talk.”

He nodded, his long, tanned fingers playing with the stem of his glass. “May I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.” Her stomach tightened.

“I honestly thought you didn’t like kids, but when I watched you with Sybbie, your face lights up. You are tender and caring and I’m pretty sure you already love her almost as much as if you had given birth to her. Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong.” She’d been trying to decide whether or not to open up all her skeleton-filled closets. James had cut to the chase and simply asked. Flat out. “I do love children,” she said. “I always have. And yes...Sybbie stole my heart the first moment I saw her.”

“So what’s the problem? Tell me, Lila-belle. I want to understand.” The goofy nickname was not fair. It made her yearn for a happier time with James.

For her to explain was only going to make it more certain that the two of them were never ever getting back together. Perhaps this was for the best.

“I used to babysit,” she said simply. “A lot. From the time I turned thirteen. I took a class offered by the Red Cross at the hospital. Received my certification. I was responsible and dependable and kids gravitated toward me.”

“So far, I’m not hearing any negatives.”

“I had a very scary experience when I was in the eighth grade. I was babysitting after school for a woman who had a mentally and physically challenged three-year-old. He only knew a few words, but he was extremely sweet and cooperative. His walking was jerky, but he could do it.”

“Was this a one-time thing?”

“No. I had a regular job with this lady. She cared for him all day, and by the time I came to her house after school, she needed a break and a chance to cook dinner for her family. There were two other children and a husband.”

“Okay.”

James was completely tuned in to her story, his expression intense. She felt like a bug under a microscope. Wine in hand, she jumped to her feet and paced. “One day, the little boy and I were playing with Lincoln logs in the living room. He was old enough not to put little pieces in his mouth.”

“But he choked on something.”

James’s attempt to finish her story made her smile, though there was no humor at all in the memory. “Not exactly. He went into a seizure, fell and bashed his head on the glass coffee table. Blood went everywhere. I screamed. His mother came running and knew immediately what had happened. She told me to call 911, and she held him so he wouldn’t hurt himself further.”

“You must have been terrified.”

“I was. She had never mentioned that he might have a seizure. The whole family made sure I knew it wasn’t my fault that he hit his head. But it traumatized me. He could have died. On my watch.”

“Is that it?”

She could tell James was waiting to tell her how silly she was...that all kids had accidents. “No. That’s not all. The next incident happened two years after that. I was older then. This time I was in charge of three children ranging in age from five to nine. They rode the school bus home together. My job was to give them a snack, make sure they did their homework and sometimes start a portion of the dinner meal before the parents rolled in at five thirty.”

“That sounds like a lot for a—what were you? A fifteen-year-old?”

“Yes. But I had been doing it almost four months. The children respected my authority. The parents were thrilled with how smoothly their evenings went after I had been there. I was making good money and socking it away for college.”

“Has anybody ever told you your storytelling skills are a downer?” His anticipation of what was coming was accompanied by a rueful grimace.

“You asked for this.” It wasn’t as if she enjoyed rehashing some of the worst days of her life. “It was getting close to the holidays. The cat got under the Christmas tree and chewed on an electrical cord that was already frayed. The tree skirt caught on fire, but only smoldered at first. Then at some point, the drapes were involved, and after that, the room was engulfed in flames.”

“What about smoke alarms?”

“Dead batteries,” she said soberly. “It was a perfect storm of bad decisions by the parents...critical things they had overlooked. I was in the back of the house in the den watching TV with the children. When I smelled smoke and tried to get them out of the house, the rear hallway was on fire. Our only escape was through the front door. I had to put wet towels over the kids’ heads and hustle them past the flames and out into the yard.”

“My God, Lila. That’s horrific. Were you hurt?”

“They treated all four of us for mild smoke inhalation. By the time the fire engines arrived, most of the house was engulfed. It wasn’t a total loss, but the family had to live in a motel for three months.”

She finished her tale and ran out of steam, sitting down abruptly. Even now, years later, retelling the story made her queasy.

James stared at her, his eyes narrowed as if trying to see inside her head. “Is that it?”

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