The Baby Surprise / The Father for Her Son: The Baby Surprise. Cindi MyersЧитать онлайн книгу.
wary protectiveness first. Definitely not an easy task.
However, he’d never been one to shirk from a challenge.
Except when that challenge was a phone call from his youngest sister, he amended as the phone in his pocket trilled again and Zach ignored it again.
He’d never admit it to her face, but he missed her like crazy and, more than anything when he’d come home from Afghanistan, he’d been looking forward to going out to California and seeing not just Hayden but his whole family again. He hadn’t actually canceled those plans so much as he’d delayed them, and he didn’t want to delay for much longer.
Emma had an extended family who wanted to meet her.
Or they would, when he finally figured out how to tell them that he was a father.
It was past midnight before Paige finally left the hospital, and despite her pleasure at seeing both her cousin and the brand-new baby doing well, she felt tense and uncertain as she drove toward home. She didn’t realize it was worry over Emma that had lingered with her until she got close enough to the house to confirm that her car was in the driveway. She didn’t have to go much farther than that to find both Emma and Zach.
The baby was curled up on one end of the sofa, her favorite blanket clutched in one little fist, the thumb of the other hanging out of her mouth. Zach was on the floor, his back against the sofa. His legs were out straight, his head was tipped back, and one of his hands was resting protectively on the sleeping child’s back. At any other time, the peaceful scene might have warmed her heart, but she was too busy gaping at the chaos around them to fully appreciate the serene image of man and child.
She took another slow and careful survey of the room, stunned. Okay, so maybe she’d wondered how he would fare on his own with the little girl, and maybe she’d even hoped that Emma wouldn’t make things too easy for him. She hadn’t expected the living room to look as if a Category 4 hurricane had torn through it.
But that was exactly how it appeared to Paige, with toys and plastic bowls and sippy cups and clothes and diapers—she sent up a quick prayer that they were at least clean diapers—strewn absolutely everywhere.
She must have gasped because Zach was immediately awake and on his feet, every muscle in his body on alert. He was so tall, so strong, so completely and undeniably male that, for a split second, the disaster zone faded away and there was only Zach.
His eyes locked on her, the air crackled, her skin prickled. The intensity of her reaction—the unexpected force of the attraction she felt—startled her enough that she looked away, breaking the seductive spell of those blue, blue eyes and reminding her of the chaos she’d stepped into.
“What the heck happened?” she asked, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the sleeping child while she attempted to hold her churning hormones firmly in check.
He tore his gaze from hers to glance around and winced as if he was seeing the room for the first time. “Hurricane Emma,” he muttered.
His explanation was so close to what she’d been thinking that she might have smiled if the condition of her living room didn’t make her want to cry. Instead, she just shook her head. “I need a cup of coffee.”
“Wait—”
She paused in midstep. “You’re going to tell me that the kitchen is just as bad, aren’t you?”
“Probably worse,” he admitted.
“As long as I can find the coffeepot.”
Zach took hold of her shoulders to steer her away from the kitchen, and when his hands came down on her, she jolted as if she’d been zapped by a live wire. His hands dropped away. “Why don’t you take Emma up to her bed while I make the coffee?”
She decided it was probably good advice and, ignoring the tingles that coursed through her veins in response to his touch, turned back to the sleeping child in the living room.
By the time she’d returned to the kitchen after checking Emma’s diaper and tucking her into her crib, the coffeepot was gurgling away.
“Boy or girl?” he finally asked, passing a mug across the counter to her.
For the first time since walking into the disaster zone that had once been her house—at least for the summer—she smiled. “Boy,” she answered. “Marcus Allan Richmond—for both of Megan’s and Gage’s fathers. Eight pounds ten ounces, twenty-two inches with big blue eyes and gorgeous blond curls.”
“And how’s the new mommy doing?” Zach lifted his own mug to drink.
“She’s great. Amazing. Overjoyed. And Gage was so thrilled with both his wife and new baby, he actually cried.”
“I’ll bet you did, too,” he guessed.
“Just a little,” she admitted.
“When did all of this finally happen?”
“11:47.”
Zach glanced at his watch. “You obviously didn’t hang around for very long after.”
“Long enough to congratulate the new mommy and daddy and steal a quick cuddle with the baby. But they had more than enough company to keep them busy through half of the night.”
“And—despite the fact that you called four times from the hospital—you were worried about Emma,” he guessed.
“Obviously with good reason.”
He shook his head. “Nah, she was in complete control. If you were going to worry about anyone, it should have been me.”
She smiled again. “I do appreciate you staying with her,” she said, and realized it was true. “It would have been a nightmare trying to keep her entertained at the hospital all night.”
“Instead, you came home to a nightmare.”
She closed her eyes and held a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’m trying not to think about that right now. Hopefully by morning I’ll have the energy to tackle the mess.”
“You look exhausted,” he noted. “Why don’t you head up to bed and I’ll load the dishes in the dishwasher before I head out?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You have to be at least as tired as I am.”
“I had a nap,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, you looked as if you were resting comfortably when I came in,” she noted drily.
“Believe me, your living-room floor is like a premium mattress in a five-star hotel compared to some of the places I’ve had to sleep.” Zach grinned and her heart hitched.
Honestly, the man’s smile was a potent weapon, and because Paige knew she was too weary to continue to fight, she opted for retreat. “Well, I’m looking forward to my real bed,” she said, taking her empty cup to the dishwasher.
“Go ahead,” Zach said. “I’ll lock up when I go.”
She hesitated, still not entirely sure she trusted him and yet all too aware that he’d given her no reason not to. And if he was willing to make a dent in the kitchen, she was certainly willing to let him. “If you’re sure,” she began.
“I’m sure. Good night, Paige.”
“Good night.”
Emma was, as usual, awake by six the next morning, which meant that Paige was, too. After changing the baby’s diaper, Paige tucked her against her hip and started down the stairs. When she stepped into the living room, she had a moment to wonder if she’d only dreamed the disaster she’d come home to the night before because the room was absolutely immaculate. Continuing on to the kitchen, she found that the same was true there.
She settled Emma in her high chair with a cup of juice and set about making a pot of coffee. Emma banged her sippy cup on the