The Baby Came C.O.D. Part 15

He couldn't believe she didn't know. "And here I thought your mother taught you everything. Libby, you're in for a treat. Tomorrow night, we're watching TV together."

"All right!" Scrambling forward, she hugged him, then scooted back under her covers. "What do you want me to call you?"

"How about 'Evan'?"

"Evan," she repeated with approval. "Will you come and read to me when I'm president, Evan?" she asked him again.

"You bet." Making himself comfortable on the bed, he picked up the book and began to read out loud.

Claire slipped slowly back into Evan's bedroom, a bemused smile on her lips.

And she had been worried....

He had begun to think that Libby was never going to fall asleep. It had taken another story and a half before Libby's eyes finally closed. His jaw felt tight from reading.

The wealth of patience he'd found within himself surprised Evan. As did the discovery of other feelings that were steadily coming to the forefront. Feelings he would have said only a short while ago that he didn't have, that he wasn't capable of. And most definitely, that he didn't need.

Feelings of love and attachment.

Oh, he cared about his own family. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his mother and for his sisters, Paige and Krystle. And yes, even for Devin. It wasn't so much that he'd actually disliked Devin when they were growing up as that he felt he was living in his brother's shadow. Outgoing, gregarious, Devin always managed to charm everyone he met. Everyone loved Devin. When they met Evan, who was more introverted and shy, they were surprised at the difference. And sometimes vocal about it.

Evan told himself he didn't need those kinds of things, that he could do without the friendships and the admiration, and that what mattered in life was success. He'd said it so often and so forcefully, he'd almost managed to fool himself.

Until now.

Until he'd been forced to take care of a chatterbox, a baby and a woman who was getting under his skin so far and so deep, there was a danger that he'd have to have her surgically removed before he could go on with his life.

What was his life, anyway? he wondered ruefully as he walked down the hall. Deadlines, presentations, facts, figures, a computer screen, people in meetings whose faces he didn't remember and a six-figure income.

Somehow, that didn't seem to add up to very much when measured in terms of what Claire had. Love. She and Libby were a unit. A unit that was calling to him, showing him what he was missing.

He wanted that unit in his own life. As part of his own life.

Evan stopped before the room where Rachel lay, hopefully sleeping. He debated checking on her, knowing that there was a fifty-fifty chance he would wake her if he opened the door. It was safer just to walk on and a.s.sume the best.

He decided to risk it.

Cracking the door slightly, he slowly pushed it open a fraction of an inch at a time. The odds, for once, were with him and the right fifty was in his corner. Rachel remained sleeping.

He crept softly into the room and then stood looking down at her. The room was quiet. If he listened, he could hear her breathing.

There was a dim light draping the room, coming from a children's lamp Libby had helped him find in Claire's garage. Evan was amazed at how helpful Libby actually was. A wry grin curved his mouth. She probably sensed how helpless he was without her.

He wondered if Claire could sense the same thing.

That was off limits, he told himself. Claire was off limits. She'd been helpful to him; he couldn't repay her by dragging her further into his life. What woman would want to get mixed up with a man with a baby on a permanent basis, especially since she already had a child of her own?

A child of her own. Was Rachel his own? He didn't know; he truly didn't know. He did know that he hadn't wanted her to be. In the beginning. But now it was different. Now he woke up in the middle of the night to her cry. Her silence woke him just as much as her cries did. He was tuned into her internal clock, had made it his.

When he'd asked Devin to find Rachel's mother, it was in hopes that he could get her to confess that Rachel wasn't his and to take her back. Now he wanted to find her so that he could get legal custody.

It was a startling thing to realize that a man as large as he could be held so fast by a hand as tiny as hers. Held by her hand, and by Libby's and Claire's. They had all taken a piece of him without his knowing it. A piece he knew he didn't want back.

Not that he had anything to offer Claire that she needed. If there was ever a woman who was all together, it was her.

"But maybe you and I can have something, hmm?" he whispered to Rachel.

To his surprise, she opened her eyes for a moment. And then a dreamy little look pa.s.sed over her face, and her eyes slid shut again.

His heart twisted in his chest. Hearts always twisted when they were being removed. He didn't have to open Rachel's hand to know that was where his heart now resided.

Very quietly, he slipped out and closed the door behind him.

Chapter Eleven.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

Startled, Claire turned around in the hallway to see Evan standing behind her. She'd been so preoccupied when she left the bedroom, she hadn't heard him walking toward her.

"Downstairs. I've got to get the turkey out of my freezer and find a way to defrost it quickly." There wasn't much hope there. She knew the bird was rock solid. Maybe there was still one available at the supermarket. Time had strung itself out into one long chain, and she'd lost track of the days, but that was still no excuse to forget what today was.

Claire flushed. "I forgot that today is Thanksgiving," she admitted.

It was nice to see color back in her cheeks that wasn't a.s.sociated with a fever. It was even nicer to be able to ride to her rescue.

"The turkey's already defrosted and about one-third on its way to being baked. Some of us didn't forget," he told her loftily.

As he had returned home from Aesthetic Athletics head quarters, Evan had made up his mind to cook the meal. Feeling triumphant at securing the account for her, he'd made a quick stop at the grocery store, or as quick as it could be with two children in tow, and picked up everything he remembered seeing on his mother's table during past Thanksgivings.

Claire stared at him as if he'd just announced he was Peter Pan and about to undertake a journey to Neverland. "You're making Thanksgiving dinner?"

"We are," he corrected. "Libby's helping." The little girl insisted on being part of everything he did. He was getting very accustomed to that. "Actually, she does a lot of ordering around." He raised an eyebrow, looking at Claire pointedly. "Can't figure out where she could have gotten that from."

Claire hadn't progressed beyond his earlier statement. Try as she might, she couldn't picture him in the kitchen doing anything other than preparing coffee. "You're making Thanksgiving dinner?"

He smoothed out the furrow between her eyebrows with the tip of his finger. "I thought we just got past that. That fever must have sucked out more of your brain cells than I antic.i.p.ated."

Why was he doing this? It went far above and beyond repaying a debt he thought he owed. Caring for her, putting up with Libby, reading to Libby-it was all miles beyond the call of any duty she was certain Evan was acquainted with.

"Don't you have a family to go to? Mother? Sisters? Your twin brother?" He'd mentioned that they all lived in southern California. Evan should have been on his way there with Rachel last night, not here with her.

And yet here he was.

Something warm and hopeful began to bloom within her.

This was going to be the first holiday meal he'd miss sharing with his family, but he'd made his choice and figured he knew where he belonged. "They all have each other. I thought someone should stay and take care of the girls and you."

The girls and you. It had such a lovely sound to it, Claire mused. With very little effort, she could get really involved with this man. Who was she kidding? She was already involved with this man.

But he didn't have to know that.

She bit her lip. It was only fair she make the offer, even if she hoped he wouldn't take her up on it. "You don't have to. I mean, I feel better now and I could look after Rachel if you wanted to get away."

He didn't remember taking her into his arms, only remembered wanting to. But here she was, against him. As she should be.

"Maybe I don't want to get away." He brushed the hair away from her face.

Her bangs always seemed to be falling into her eyes, he thought. It gave her an elfin quality that belied the strength that was beneath and allowed him to pretend that she needed someone. Needed him.

"Maybe I'm just where I want to be. Here, getting my fingers burned, making really bad mashed potatoes and looking into the eyes of the most incredible woman I've ever met."

He wasn't going anywhere. She felt her heart surge. "Maybe the fever burned out more of your brain cells than antic.i.p.ated."

Evan shook his head. There was nothing wrong with his thinking process. Finally, there was something very right about it.

"No, it just burned away the plastic casing that blocked anything good from coming in."

Leaning into him, Claire lifted her chin, an invitation in her eyes. "I'm not catchy anymore." Then she realized that he probably didn't know what she was saying. "That's Libby-talk for-"

"I know what it means." He feathered his hand along her cheek. Her skin felt like cream. And she felt like heaven against him. "She used the line on me. Does that mean I can kiss you?"

The heart that had been hammering so wildly just a second before stopped altogether. "That's what it means. Are you going to?"

The smile was slow as it moved along his lips, and so wildly sensual, Claire couldn't breathe. "I'm thinking about it."

If Evan didn't kiss her soon, she was going to have to force herself on him. "Don't make me get nasty with you."

The smile became a grin and all the more s.e.xy for it. "I love it when you get physical."

And then Evan brought his lips down to hers and kissed her the way he couldn't for the past few days. The way he'd ached to.

The wait had made the reward all the more sweet. As soon as he kissed her, he could feel his blood surging through his body, hot and demanding. This was the woman he wanted in his life. The woman who was going to matter. Who already did matter.

Desire coiled like a spring that had been set, eager for release. The degree of intensity surprised him. Physical attraction had always been a pleasurable thing, but it had always been something he could walk away from if he chose. Now there was no choice. He couldn't have crawled away on his knees if he wanted to.

He wanted to be with her, to love her the way he knew she needed to be loved. The way he needed to make love with her.

Clamping down restraints before they completely disintegrated, he drew back from her. "Nothing wrong with your lips, that's for sure."

"Is Mama all better?"

The high-pitched, inquisitive voice parted them more effectively than his resolve did. Evan smiled as he looked toward her. Libby was standing at the landing, eyeing them both and looking as pleased as he felt.

"All better, Libby," Claire murmured, wondering how long it would take for her pulse to settle down to normal.

It was all Libby needed to hear. She hurried over to her mother, linking her small fingers through Claire's and tugging her toward the stairs. "Then you can come and help." Libby stood up on her toes and whispered, "Evan's making the potatoes all lumpy."

Claire didn't want close proximity to annul the good manners she'd worked hard to instill in Libby. "Honey, his name is Mr. Quartermain."

"He told me I could call him Evan because if I don't, he'll be a man from outer s.p.a.ce." She looked up at Evan for confirmation, but he was laughing too hard to provide it.

Claire was left to wonder just what had gone on while she had been sick. "I'm sure there's a translation to this," she told Evan. At least she hoped so. "Why don't you explain it all to me while I'm unlumping your potatoes?"

He put his hand on hers as she began to go down the stairs. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

Claire stopped and smiled at him. His concern was touching and almost worth getting sick as a dog for. "I told you, I'm fine." Her tongue moved along the outline of her lips, tasting him again. She felt the shiver of a thrill dance down her spine. "And ridiculously giddy, considering I'm out of work."

Evan stared at her. Had he missed something? "How do you figure that?"

She really didn't want to talk about it now, even though she'd been the one to bring it up. Today was too perfect to spoil.

Turning, she walked down the stairs with Libby leading the way. She didn't want him to read the disappointment in her eyes.

"Well, I lost the Aesthetics account, and I don't have anything else on tap right now." She shrugged. "But something'll come up." Claire maintained a cheerful voice for Libby's sake. And her own. "It always does."

He still didn't understand. "How did you manage to lose the Aesthetics account? They just gave it to you two days ago."

It was her turn to stare at him. It took concentration to keep her mouth from falling open. "They just...? When?"

There was a definite glitch in communication here, Evan thought. Maybe she didn't know. He'd been surprised she hadn't said anything to him about it, but thought it was because she was low-key when it came to success. Unlike him.

"The day I went to make your presentation. I told you when I came back that you had it."

She had it. She had the account. Her eyes grew huge. He wasn't kidding. Claire was stunned and too happy and relieved for words. "Then it's true? I wasn't just dreaming?"

He laughed, shaking his head. That was why she hadn't said anything. She didn't know. "No. They were very impressed with your work."

Evan didn't bother telling her that he had gone to school with the head of the Aesthetic Athletics marketing department and had w.a.n.gled a one-on-one meeting to make sure that Claire's work got the priority consideration it deserved. Telling her would only take away some of her thunder, and she deserved all of it.

Besides, he was being sufficiently compensated. He loved watching the way her eyes lit up.

"I've got a check for you they drew up on the spot to make sure that you wouldn't take this logo to another company. Formal contracts will be in the mail the first of the week," he informed her. "You're to consider yourself part of their staff from here on in-for as long as you want," he added, knowing how much freedom meant to her.

When Evan's words finally sank in, Claire let out a whoop of joy and impulsively threw her arms around him. "Really?"

His arms encircled her automatically. "Really." He liked holding her like this, feeling her heart beat against his. Funny how important the simple things in life could be, now that she was in it.

There was something he wanted to know, a question her words had raised. Still holding her, he cupped her cheek softly and asked, "When you said you thought it was just a dream-does that mean you dream about me?"

A smile teased her lips, slipping up to her eyes. "Maybe."

It was hard to imagine a thirty-year-old man's stomach tightening over something so tenuous as a maybe. But it did. "Often?"