“I’ll get her bottle ready,” he said, and left the room.
Marissa watched him, her heart racing over his words and the look in his eyes. Since yesterday, she had lectured herself to keep her guard up. Did she want another heartache like her divorce? She knew the answer to that one. I nstinct told her that David would never be into anything lasting and she knew she would never be into anything casual.
When David handed her a bottle for Autumn, Marissa sat in the rocker, settling the baby and watching her take her bottle. David moved around, turning on music, building a fire, finally sitting down near Marissa.
“While you were in town, did you find out anything about Autumn’s mother?” Marissa asked.
“I went by the hospital. Her condition hasn’t changed.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Poor baby and poor Mommy,” Marissa said, tightening her arm slightly around Autumn, who was taking her bottle and watching Marissa with an intent stare.
“I don’t suppose they know any more about your Jane Doe’s identity,” Marissa said. “If they did, I’m sure you’d tell me.”
“That’s right. Every search is a dead end, and no one has popped up on missing persons lists who fits her description. It’s still a puzzle. She has to have family somewhere.”
“Maybe not. Not everyone does.”
He shrugged. “There are times and places I’ve been completely out of touch with my family, so if something had happened to me, no one who knows me would have learned about it for quite some time.”
“I don’t know how you did that kind of work. Or why.”
“Maybe to avoid the regular job that is waiting for me in Houston,” he replied, raking his fingers through his thick black hair. “When you’re young, right out of college, life looks different. At the time, I didn’t want to sit in an office day after day.”
“And you do now?”
“I’m resigned to it more than I was then.”
“Resigned?” she asked, surprised. “Why are you doing it if you don’t want to?”
“I’ve been aimed that direction all my life with a detour to the air force. Dad expects it of me, and there’s no big reason to disappoint him. That’s not my habit. I figure I’ll get used to it.”
“That’s a dutiful son,” she remarked, seeing another side to him. “It’ll be different from what you’ve been doing.” All the time he answered her, Marissa was aware of his rugged handsomeness. She probably should have avoided this job and David Sorrenson at all costs. But then she glanced down at Autumn in her arms, and warmth for the baby filled her. The job was fabulous pay and the baby was adorable. She should just guard her heart no matter how sexy he was.
“I pray your Jane Doe recovers soon so she can get her baby back. Autumn’s a wonderful little girl, David.”
“I’ll bet you say that about every baby you’ve taken care of,” he said, smiling at her.
She smiled in return. “I might have.”
Crossing the room to the wine rack, he held up a bottle. “Want to celebrate? Want a glass of wine?”
“Fine. After Autumn is fed and asleep. What on earth will we celebrate?”
“That you’ve become Autumn’s nanny.”
“Good enough,” Marissa responded, laughing, a tiny inner voice telling her that she should have refused the wine, should stop chitchatting with him, should keep this all business. Even as she argued mentally, her inner voice was losing the battle.
In the living area of the kitchen, David stoked the fire. Then he finished getting dinner on the table and took Autumn for a time until finally the baby was asleep and he put her to bed.
The moment he walked back through the kitchen door, his gaze met Marissa’s, making her breath catch. Watching her, he brought a glass of wine to her and held out his in a toast, his riveting gaze still on her. “Here’s to little Autumn coming into our lives.”
“That’s reason for us to celebrate, but I hope her mother recovers soon.”
“I do, too. But I’m glad we met,” he said, his voice lowering, giving her a thrill she knew she should be wary of.
David touched her glass lightly and watched her over the rim of his while he took a sip. She drank the red wine, thinking nothing could be as heady as the desire she saw in his green eyes.
“Ready to eat?” he asked in a coaxing voice, as if he were asking her something entirely different.
When she nodded, he took her glass, setting it on the table, and then held her chair for her, his hand grazing her shoulder lightly, yet a contact that she felt to her toes.
David sat facing her, and as she looked at him across the table, she remembered dreams of girlhood. Now here she was, living in his house, having dinner with him, and had exchanged passionate kisses with him. It’s just a temporary job, she reminded herself.
He passed her a platter with thick slices of roast beef. “Roast beef, potatoes and gravy are Gertie’s specialty. You’ve won her over. I’m not sure she remembers I live here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s just very friendly.”
“She was as thankful to get you as I was. I was too distraught the first day to remember my name.”
“I’m still surprised at that. A baby is simple.”
“Not to me. Where babies are concerned, I’m green as grass, as you well know by now.”
Marissa bit into tender roast and chewed. “This is delicious.” She tilted her head to study him, wondering about his life. “How come you don’t know Bo-Peep or the game I asked you to buy today? Did they keep you locked in the attic?”
“No. My mother died when I was a baby. I was raised by a very fine man who knew little about children and didn’t care to get to know much about them. He hired nannies and tutors and sent me to school and took care of my needs and I did what was expected of me, but there are big gaps in my childhood background. I didn’t do a lot of playing like some kids did.”
“You weren’t exactly lacking,” she said, glancing at his surroundings.
“We always had material things,” he said, shrugging, then continued. “Dad inherited money and made still more money, but I just kept quiet, did as I was told, and enjoyed myself in my own quiet way. I loved to read and play soccer and swim. I played tennis, too. Later, I played football. I kept busy, but whoever my nannies were in the early years, I guess they weren’t into cute games and nursery rhymes. There were so many of them, I can’t even remember them until I was about six. Gertie was always around, but she’s not into kids any more than my dad was. Still, she was good to me and slipped me treats whenever I wanted them.”
“What about other relatives?” she asked him, thankful she’d had the childhood she’d had, thinking about her sisters and her other relatives.
He shrugged. “I have my grandparents, who are not into kids, either. Even less than my dad. I suppose it’s passed from generation to generation.”
“Surely not!” Marissa exclaimed, her brows arching. “You’ve done quite well with Autumn.” She sipped her wine and took another bite of roast beef. “Don’t you want to marry and have a family?”
“With my career in Special Ops, I scratched marriage off the list when I went into danger. That’s no life for a married man.”