LITMIR.BIZ

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front of her.

      She had to lean so far back to stare at him that she almost lost her balance. He blocked out the night sky and her whole world narrowed to just him.

      Yeah, she was a little unbalanced right now. “What are you doing here?”

      Because he couldn’t be here. She looked like hell warmed over twice, and the shirt she was wearing had stains that she didn’t want to think about and she was a wreck.

      He couldn’t be here.

      He was.

      He stared at her with an intensity that had taken her months to get used to. “Are you all right?”

      It wasn’t a question. It was an order.

      Jeannie scrambled to her feet. Even looking him in the eye, it still felt like he loomed over her. “I’m fine,” she lied because what was she supposed to say?

      She liked him as a customer. He was a gorgeous man, a great tipper—and he had never made her feel uncomfortable or objectified. Aside from that phantom touch of his hand brushing against hers—which could’ve been entirely accidental—they’d never done anything together beyond devise the perfect Manhattan. That was it.

      And now he’d followed her to Nicole’s house.

      The man standing in front of her looked like he would take on the world if she asked him to.

      His brow furrowed. “If everything’s fine, why aren’t you at work?”

      “Is that why you’re here?”

      “You promised you’d be back today and you weren’t. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

      She blinked. Had she actually wished upon a star? One with magical wish-granting powers?

      “You can’t fix this.” It didn’t matter how brilliant a surgeon he was, he couldn’t help Nicole. No one could.

      “Yes, I can,” he growled.

      He growled! At her! Then he climbed the first step. “I need you to be there, Jeannie.” He took another step up, another step closer to her. “I need...”

      “Robert.” Without thinking, she put her hand on his chest because she couldn’t let him get any closer.

      She felt his muscles tense under her palm. It was a mistake, touching him. That phantom contact a week ago in the bar? The little sparks she’d felt then were nothing compared to the electricity that arced between them now. He was hot to the touch and everything had gone to hell, but he was here.

      He’d come for her.

      He looked down to where she was touching him and she followed his gaze. He wasn’t wearing a tie, which was odd. He always wore one. She stared at the little triangle of skin revealed by his unbuttoned collar.

      Then his fingertips were against her cheek and she gasped, a shiver racing down her back. “Jeannie,” he whispered, lifting her chin until she had no choice but to look him in the eye. His eyes, normally so icy, were warm and promised wonderful things. His head began to dip. “I need...”

      He was going to kiss her. He was going to press his perfect mouth against hers and she was going to let him because she could get lost in this man.

      Just as she felt his warmth against her lips, Melissa’s cries intruded into the silence that surrounded them.

      “Oh! The baby!” Jeannie hurried into the house.

      “The baby?” he called after her.

      How much time had passed since Robert had emerged from the back of that sleek limo? Could have been seconds but it could’ve just as easily been minutes. Minutes where she’d left Melissa alone.

      By the time she got back to the baby’s room, Melissa was red in the face, her little body rigid, her arms waving. Was that normal? Or was Melissa in pain? Or...

      “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jeannie said as she nervously picked the baby up, trying to support her head like the nurse had shown her. She was pretty sure she wasn’t doing it right because Melissa cried harder. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Sorry Nicole wasn’t here, sorry Jeannie couldn’t figure out the problem, much less how to fix it. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” As if the baby could tell her.

      Melissa howled and Jeannie couldn’t stop her own tears. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing this last part of her family.

      “Here,” a deep voice said as the baby was plucked out of Jeannie’s arms. “Let me.”

      She blinked a few times, but in her current state of exhaustion what she saw didn’t make a lot of sense.

      Dr. Robert Wyatt, one of the Top Five Billionaire Bachelors of Chicago, a man so remote and icy it’d taken Jeannie years to get comfortable with his intense silences—that man was laying Melissa out on the changing pad, saying, “What seems to be the problem?” as if the baby could tell him.

      “What...” Jeannie blinked again but the image didn’t change. “What are you doing?”

      Instead of answering, Robert pulled out his cell. “Reginald? Bring my kit in.”

      “Your kit?”

      He didn’t explain. “How old is this infant? Eight days?”

      She wasn’t even surprised he hadn’t answered her question, much less come within a day of guessing Melissa’s age. “Nine. Nicole, my sister, went into labor right after I last saw you.” She tried to say the rest of it but suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

      Robert made a gentle humming noise. The baby blinked up at him in confusion, a momentary break in her crying. “What was her Apgar score?”

      “Her what?”

      Who the hell was this man? The Dr. Wyatt she knew didn’t make gentle humming noises that calmed babies. There was nothing gentle about him!

      Robert had Melissa down to her diaper. The poor baby began to wail again. He made a tsking noise. “Where is the mother?”

      Jeannie choked on a sob. “She’s...” No, that wasn’t right. Present tense no longer applied to Nicole. “She developed blood clots and...”

      Robert’s back stiffened. “The father?”

      “Sperm donor.”

      He made that humming noise again. Just then the doorbell rang and Melissa howled all the louder and Jeannie wanted to burrow into Robert’s arms and pretend the last week had been a horrible dream. But she didn’t get the chance because he said, “My kit—can you bring it to me, please?”

      “Sure?” When Jeannie opened the door, the man from the car was there. “Reginald?”

      “Miss.” He tipped his hat with one hand. With the other, he hefted an absolutely enormous duffel bag. “Shall I bring this to Dr. Wyatt?”

      “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

      “Babies cry, miss,” he said gently as he handed over the bag. “The good doctor will make sure nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry—it gets easier.”

      The kind words from an older man who looked like he might have dealt with crying babies a few times in his life felt like a balm on her soul.

      “Thank you,” Jeannie said and she meant it.

      Reginald tipped his hat.

      It took both hands, but she managed to lug the kit back to the baby’s room. Melissa was still screaming. Probably because Robert was pinching the skin on her arms. “What are you doing?” Jeannie demanded.

      “She’s got good skin elasticity and her lungs are in great shape.” He sounded calm and reasonable. “Ah, the kit. Come,” he said, motioning right next to him. “Tell me everything.”

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