Desire Collection: December Books 1 – 4. Elizabeth BevarlyЧитать онлайн книгу.
earlier.
“Nothing,” she snapped. “I’ve got this.”
Piers’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You okay?”
“Just cabin fever, I guess. Looking forward to getting out of here.”
Even as she said the words she knew she was lying. Truth was, she had begun to enjoy this enforced idyll just a little too much. She had to get away before she lost all reason.
“Look, why don’t you sit down? Let me finish making dinner. You sound a bit stressed.”
“Stressed? You think I’m stressed? It’s all this doing nothing that’s driving me crazy,” Faye said on a strangled laugh. “Seriously, I don’t need you to pander to me.”
“Everyone needs someone to pander to them from time to time.”
“Not me,” she said resolutely and started to chop a carrot with more vigor than finesse.
She stiffened as gentle hands closed over hers, as the warmth of Piers’s body surrounded her from behind.
“Everyone,” he said firmly. “Now, go. Sit. Tell me what needs to be done and just watch me to make sure I don’t mess anything up, okay?”
He picked up her wine, pushed the glass into her hand and steered her to a stool on the other side of the kitchen island.
“So I’m guessing these need to be diced?” he asked, gesturing with the knife to the irregularly sized chunks of carrot.
She nodded in surrender and took another sip of her wine.
He followed her instructions to the letter and soon their meal was simmering on the stove top. Piers topped up their glasses, took a seat beside her and swiveled to face her.
“Now, tell me what’s really bothering you. Why do you hate it here so much? Most people would give their right arm to be stranded with two gorgeous males for a few days.”
“I’m not most people,” she said bluntly.
“I noticed. Is there someone waiting for you at home? Is that what it is?”
“No, there’s no one waiting for me at home.”
No one. Not a pet. Not even a plant since she’d managed to kill off the maidenhair fern and the ficus she’d been given by one of her colleagues who’d jokingly said she needed something less inanimate than four walls to come home to each day.
“Then what is it?”
“This.” She gestured widely with one hand. “It just isn’t me, okay? I like California. I like sunshine. The beach. Dry roads.”
“It’s always good to have some contrast in your life,” he commented, his face suddenly serious. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s Casey.”
Faye let her shoulders slump. “I don’t hate him,” she said defensively.
“But you don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Look, even you, if you had the chance, would have run a mile from a baby a few days ago.”
“True.” Piers nodded. “But I’m enjoying this time with him and with you more than I ever would have expected. C’mon, you have to admit it. Even you’ve enjoyed some of our time together.”
She felt as if he’d backed her up against a corner and she had nowhere to go. “Look, this is an unusual situation for us both. Once you’re back in Santa Monica you’ll be back to your usual whirl of work, travel and women—no doubt in that order—and Casey will be tucked away to be someone else’s problem.”
* * *
“Wow, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Piers said, feeling a wave of defensiveness swell through his whole body.
Her blunt assessment of his priorities angered him, he admitted, but he couldn’t deny she’d hit the nail very squarely on the head.
“So you don’t think I’ll be a suitable parent to Casey?” he pressed, fighting to hold on to his temper.
“To be honest, I think it would be a huge leap for you to learn to balance your existing lifestyle with caring for a child. Of course, it all seems so easy when you’re here. There’s nothing else for you to do all day other than look after him. But what about when you’re in negotiations in your next takeover and you’re working eighteen-hour days and he’s had his immunizations and he’s running a low fever and he wants you? What about when you’re attending a theater premiere in New York and he wakes with colic or he’s teething and grumpy and inconsolable? What about—”
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. I’m going to need help.”
“You really haven’t thought this through, Piers. It’s going to take more than help,” Faye argued, putting air quotes around the last word. “There’s more to raising a child than feeding it and changing a diaper, and you can’t just expect to be there when it suits you and leave him to others when it doesn’t. It’s just not right or fair.”
Piers wanted to argue with her, to shout her accusations down. But there was a ring of truth in her words that pricked his conscience and reminded him that the very upbringing he’d endured was likely the kind of upbringing he’d end up giving to Casey.
For all that he wanted to raise Quin’s son as his own, and give him all the love that he and his brother had missed out on growing up, how could he continue to do what he did—live the life he led—and still give Casey the nurturing he would need? The little boy was only three and a half months old. There was a lifetime of commitment ahead. Could he really do that? Be the person Casey needed? Be everything his own parents had never been?
His mom and dad had loved the attention that being parents of twins had brought them, but they’d left the basics of child rearing to a team of nannies and staff, and as soon as he and his brother were old enough they’d been shipped to boarding school. At least they’d always had each other. Who would Casey have?
Piers felt a massive leaden weight of responsibility settle heavily on his shoulders. “You’re right.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, you’re right.” He turned the stem of his wineglass between his fingers and watched the ruby liquid inside the bowl spin around the sides of the glass. “I haven’t thought this through.”
“What will you do then? Surrender Casey to child services?”
“Absolutely not. He’s my responsibility. I will make sure he doesn’t want for anything and if I make a few mistakes along the way then I’m sure you’ll be there to remind me how things should be done.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Yes, you. You’re not planning to leave my employ anytime soon are you?”
The question hung on the air between them.
“Leave? No, why should I? But I’m not a nanny. I’m your assistant.”
“And as such you can guide me in making sure I don’t work longer than I ought to and you can help me ensure that I employ the right people to help me care for Casey.”
He looked into Faye’s blue-gray eyes, noticing for the first time the tiny silver striations that marked her irises. Realizing, too, that the thick black fringe of her eyelashes were her own and not the product of artifice created by some cosmetic manufacturer.
Tension built in his gut. He needed her and it was daunting to admit it. She’d become such an integral part of his working life that he now found it difficult to imagine his days without her keeping his course running smooth. She did such an incredible job in the office, the idea of having her extend her reach even deeper into his personal sphere, as well, was enticing. But could he convince her to do it? Could he show her that he was serious about being