Devin sat bolt upright in shock. “What?” Lucas nearly leveled her with a look. “Is this child wearing a diaper? “
Devin shouldn’t laugh. She couldn’t laugh. Oh, dear. She quickly clapped her hand to her mouth.
“I am wearing a Brioni suit,” Lucas ground from between clenched teeth.
“Sorry about that,” Devin managed to say.
“You might have mentioned—”
“I forgot,” she answered honestly.
“Forgive me if I have a hard time believing you.”
“I didn’t mean…” But she was struggling once more not to laugh. “Babies are messy,” she warned him.
“Is this your idea of revenge?”
“It’s my idea of letting you be an uncle. They pee, Lucas. They also drool and spit up. And they even—”
“I’ve already experienced that,” he growled.
“Be a man about it,” Lexi said.
“It’s a six-thousand-dollar suit,” he barked at her.
Amelia opened her eyes, took one look at Lucas and howled in fear.
He stiffened at the sound. “Oh, for the love of.” Devin popped up out of the lounger and rescued Amelia.
Lucas’s shirt, slacks and the lower part of his jacket were dark with wetness.
He stared down at his lap. “There is a reason they invented diapers,” he intoned.
“Accidents do happen,” said Devin, cradling the damp, but rapidly calming Amelia against her chest.
Lucas’s glare told her he considered this anything but.
“Nannies,” said Lucas, smacking a stack of résumés down next to Devin where she sat near one end of the long dining-room table, her laptop open in front of her. After this afternoon’s debacle, he realized more than ever that they needed to get themselves organized.
Dinner had long since been cleared away. He assumed Amelia was asleep. And Devin had a cup of tea cooling beside her computer as she typed. A plate of cookies and small pastries was in the middle of the table in front of her, but it didn’t look like she’d indulged.
“Accidents do happen,” she repeated, obviously correctly identifying the source of his displeasure. She hit another key then closed the laptop.
“Accidents,” he responded as he settled into the chair at the end of the table, around the corner from hers, “can be prevented.”
“Are you always this controlling?” she asked, glancing at the top nanny résumé.
“I’m always this organized.” He lifted the résumé and began reading. “Graduated from the London Royal Nanny Academy in 1978.”
“Too old.”
He looked up. “I requested someone with experience.”
Devin shook her head. “Not that much experience. Amelia will be walking soon, and toddlers are energetic.”
“We’re looking for a nanny, not a playmate.”
Devin set her cup firmly down into the saucer. “I expect a good nanny to spend plenty of time playing with Amelia.”
“And I expect a good nanny to know her way around a changing table.”
“You need to get over that, Lucas.” “I am over it.” He pointedly went back to reading. “Sure you are,” Devin muttered.
Well, he could be forgiven his frustration. Amelia had looked fairly sweet and harmless while she slept on Devin’s lap. It had seemed like a perfect chance for him to stick his toe in the water of uncle-hood. How was he to know the baby was effectively booby-trapped?
But Devin had known.
He strongly suspected she’d set him up. But it would take more than that to dissuade him from bonding with Amelia. He’d already started reading a couple of how-to books. He’d master baby-raising or die trying.
He refocused his attention on the résumé in front of him. “It says she’s orderly, organized and—within her standard routine template—will customize a schedule that fits our lifestyle.”
“Standard routine template?” Devin’s tone was incredulous.
He glanced at her again. “What?”
“There’s no standard routine template for raising babies. All babies are unique.”
“I’m sure she means meals and naps and walks and things.”
“Babies should sleep when they’re tired and eat when they’re hungry.”
Lucas blinked. That sounded an awful lot like chaos to him. “Are you joking? “
“Absolutely not. Routines ought to be child-led for the first few years.”
He paused, squinting at her. “You’re messing with me, right?”
She whisked the résumé out of his hand and put it facedown on the table. “Next.”
“Put the baby in charge? Good grief, Devin. It’s a baby.”
She took the next résumé from the pile. “Early childhood certificate from Boise College.” “Idaho?”
“‘Within broad boundaries, will create a positive, nurturing environment that respects the individuality and creativity of each child.’”
“Is that code for raising spoiled, ill-mannered hooligans?” “I think it’s code for kindness and compassion.” Lucas snagged the résumé from her hand and put it facedown with the other. “Next.” “Hey!”
“You get a veto? Then so do I.” Devin compressed her lips.
“You want to split the pile?” he asked. Maybe they could narrow it down a little by swapping their acceptable choices. “Can we do it tomorrow?”
Lucas glanced at his watch. Nine-thirty. “What’s wrong with now?” He didn’t believe in procrastination. When a job needed to get done, you did it.
“I’m a little tired.”
He couldn’t help a reflexive eye-roll. “From swimming in the pool and lounging in the sun? “
She retrieved the laptop case from the chair beside her and slid open the zipper. “Those iced-tea glasses were awfully heavy.”
Her joke caught him off guard. He’d expected a snappy, if not angry retort to his jab.
“I’d like to get this over with,” he explained.
“Look.” She sighed. “It may seem early to you, but I’ve had approximately six hours sleep a night, in two or three separate segments, for the past three months. I’m tired.” She gestured to the laptop. “I have a deadline. I’d like to take a quick run, have a quick bath and try my best to rejuvenate my brain cells before Amelia wakes up again.”
Devin stuffed the laptop inside the case, zipped it up and came to her feet. He stood with her. The light from the chandelier caught her face, and for the first time he noticed dark circles under her eyes.
Up until now, he’d been distracted by the sapphire-blue of her irises. They glowed when she smiled at Amelia, flared when she was angry and turned crystal clear when her brain was working on a problem or coming up with a clever retort to something he’d said.
Right now, they seemed faded, like a misty sky on a southern summer day.
“You okay?” he automatically asked.
She tipped her