Baby and the Boss. KIM LAWRENCEЧитать онлайн книгу.
not sold on the plan.
Jake didn’t feel any more enthusiastic about the plan than she sounded. ‘Do you think possibly you should change or feed him or something?’
‘I thought this was a joint venture? I might come from a large family but my experience of babies is nil, I was the baby.’
And used to getting her own way from day one, he thought, eyeing that dimple in her right cheek with cynical suspicion. When she smiled, and he’d noticed she did so indiscriminately at everyone from the sandwich boy to visiting government dignitaries, it deepened in a very beguiling way. She didn’t smile at him, a fact that was naturally a deep source of relief to him.
‘Now, if you wanted me to strip an engine…’
‘How hard can it be?’
Nia assumed he was referring to babies, not the internal combustion engine. She watched as he placed the distressed baby, still strapped in his seat, on one of the chunky leather sofas.
Nia bit her lip to stop herself grinning—actually she knew a lot more about babies than she’d let on.
‘I do admire a confident attitude.’ She bent over and picked up a large holdall emblazoned with big fluffy yellow rabbits. ‘This looks promising,’ she added, tossing it towards him.
Jake automatically caught it one handed. He had an enviable athletic coordination, which was probably why she found herself staring when he walked across a room.
‘But…’
‘I’ll cancel your appointments,’ she said, turning a deliberate blind eye to his stereotypical display of helpless male panic.
When she returned a few minutes later Jake was struggling with the plastic tags of a disposable nappy, several ruined ones lay on the floor beside him. The baby was kicking happily, enjoying his freedom.
He glanced around as she came in. His eyes moved upwards from her slim ankles, moving up the shapely curve of her calves before eventually reaching her face. His colour was slightly heightened.
‘A very poor design,’ he grumbled as she dropped down onto the floor beside him.
‘Perhaps you don’t have the gentle touch?’ He’d used his folded jacket as a changing mat for the baby and through the fine fabric of his shirt she could make out the shadowy suggestion outline of dark hair across his chest.
Anyone would think the man was stark naked, she told herself impatiently. That neat jolt of inexplicable sexual awareness had been impossible to misinterpret even if she’d wanted to. Remember rule number one, Nia. Never, never get romantically interested in your boss. She’d seen too many friends take that particular path to disaster.
‘Nobody has ever complained about my touch.’ It was impossible to tell from his sardonic expression if any double entendre was intended. The mere possibility was enough to make her lower jaw drop. ‘I thought you didn’t know anything about babies?’
Hands flat on the floor, Nia leaned over the baby, making those unintelligible noises small helpless things inspired in the female breast. Half of her hair was loose again, he’d noticed it didn’t usually last beyond midmorning no matter how she tried to restrain it. The swathe of pre-Raphaelite curls swung with a life of their own over her shoulders and brushed the floor. Jake could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo, and a muscle in his lean cheek jumped.
The baby watched the fiery cloud apparently fascinated—genetics had a lot to answer for, Jake thought drily. Then his nephew did something he’d spent far too long thinking about, either by design or accident, he reached up and wrapped his small chubby fingers in a handy strand. Nia let out a yelp and then a soft chuckle.
‘Aren’t you a strong boy,’ she admired warmly, trying to loosen the tenacious grip with little success.
Jake doubted her response would have been as mild had he chosen to sink his fingers deep into that glowing mass that was composed of shades that ran the full length of the spectrum from gold to deepest Titian.
‘What’s his name?’ A smile on her face, she turned her head and found that Jake was watching her with an odd, stomach-tightening intensity.
He didn’t look away, just held her eyes. She didn’t know why, perhaps just because he could? He could make female hearts—not to mention stomachs, go haywire, even if their owners didn’t actually like him. Even if their owners were supposed to be happily engaged to someone else.
‘Liam.’
‘What a lovely name.’ Nia didn’t like the way her voice had dropped a husky octave. It had a worrying come-hither sound to it. She waited hopefully for her pulse rate to slow down.
‘Bridie was Irish.’
‘How did she…? Sorry it’s none of my—ouch!’ She winced and bent her head closer as the baby tugged.
‘Let me.’ With one hand he took some of the slack out of the long silky hank of hair to protect her scalp from sudden assaults and with the other he gently prized the tiny curling fingers from her hair.
It was just as well the task didn’t take him long because she’d forgotten to breathe for the duration. The couple of deep restoring breaths she took to compensate had the middle two buttons on her shirt popping. She hastily pulled the two sides together to cover the pretty lavender lace of her bra.
Whilst she’d automatically adapted her clothes to blend in with the conspicuous conservative office dress policy she’d seen no need—until now—to extend that trend to her undergarments.
‘Is he a toucher?’ her flatmate Toni had sympathetically asked when she’d confessed she wished she’d never started this particular job. Nia had laughed—her laughter had been a little strained. The idea of Jake Prentice chasing her around his desk, or even hers, had been so ludicrous she couldn’t even bring herself to think about it—you couldn’t count one or two disturbing dreams as thinking, could you? The subconscious was a law unto itself.
She hadn’t realised until that moment that he’d never touched her before, not even the casual touching of hands—she’d have remembered. She skipped swiftly over the worrying fact she was so certain of this. It was almost as if he had actively avoided touching her. With an impatient shake of her head, she dismissed this silly idea.
‘Thank you,’ she said huskily as, cheeks pink, she tried to refasten the buttons with clumsy fingers.
What would she do if he tried to help her out of that situation, too? She had a sudden mental image of his long clever fingers dextrously addressing the problem of her buttons—only he wasn’t fastening them! She could feel the warm surge of blood that washed over her fair Celtic skin.
‘I think he’s hungry.’
‘Is he bottle fed?’ she wondered out loud.
‘The poor little tyke didn’t have the option.’
‘Of course not,’ Nia said, miserable that she’d been so tactless. Then as she saw the direction of his oddly distracted gaze she glanced down to check that she was still fully buttoned.
When she raised her relieved eyes, they collided explosively with his. The impact shuddered through her body, awakening all sorts of embarrassing physical responses. Rather than draw attention to the most obvious of these, she didn’t lift her hands like a shield over her tingling breasts.
Jake was astonished that his eyes had strayed as obviously as a schoolboy or some sort of pathetic lecher when he was speaking to the woman. The breast-feeding connection had just been too much for his self-control, especially after that tantalising glimpse of creamy cleavage.
‘Perhaps there’s a bottle in the bag?’ Her voice was desperately normal.
‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ Because you were too busy ogling your secretary is why, he silently replied with a self-derisive shrug. He had no intention of getting a reputation