Upstairs Downstairs Baby. Cat Schield

was too ridiculously good-looking for her peace of mind. Since he broke off his engagement to London, it had become harder and harder to resist fantasizing about her and Honey being part of Linc’s family. When the daydreams were at their strongest, she slid on her rubber gloves and cleaned his bathroom. Reminding herself that she was his housekeeper—not a beautiful, successful and pedigreed Charlestonian woman—grounded her flights of fancy. After all, Linc’s mother, Bettina Thurston, had barely tolerated London, and the socialite had had it all: money, success and beauty.

      Claire stared at Linc’s bulging biceps as he lifted Honey high into the air and whirled her around until she shrieked in excitement. It was nearly impossible to deny the man’s appeal when he made her child happy. Nor did it help that his strong jaw, laughter-filled blue eyes and sensual lower lip made her blood run hot. Most days she wished he acted the part of a self-absorbed, successful jerk who thought all women were there to satisfy him. Then she wouldn’t have had any tingly feelings for him.

      “What are your plans for today?” he asked, settling Honey against his chest.

      Her baby patted his cheek with a chubby palm and cooed at him. But Linc’s bright blue eyes remained focused on Claire and the steadiness of his gaze made her temperature rise. She wanted to fan herself and drawl, Oh, my. She’d felt that way a lot since the baseball season ended and he’d returned from Texas. Too often. She couldn’t let this go on. There had to be some way to stop or at least slow her ever-increasing attraction to him.

      Claire pictured his mother’s reaction to her predicament and that worked pretty well to cool her fever. Bettina was a true Southern belle from an old family line and rarely missed an opportunity to mention it. Having a pedigree in this town wasn’t synonymous with having money. Even though Bettina’s family had lost much of their fortune in the 1930s, her social standing hadn’t been lowered, which made it unrealistic that she would accept Claire as a suitable match for her son.

      “Claire?” Linc’s deep voice roused her from her thoughts.

      “I’m sorry. I was thinking about all the things I have to do today.”

      “What if I take Lil’ Bit here off your hands, so you can get everything done faster and knock off early?” He tickled Honey, prompting a delighted giggle.

      Claire shook her head. It wasn’t professional to let her boss play nanny, but in the months she’d worked for Linc, the line had grown ever more blurry between employer and friend.

      “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can take care of everything.”

      Yet the way the pair got along, it was tempting to surrender Honey to Linc’s care. And Claire had other concerns. With Jasper dead, Honey was going to grow up without a father. Claire wanted her daughter to know a good man, but she couldn’t let that be Linc. Plus, she worried that Honey would get attached to him in ways she shouldn’t. What happened when Linc got married and started to have babies of his own? How confused would Honey be when his children took his full attention and he had no more time for her?

      “I could use the company,” Linc continued.

      Curse the man for being so persistent.

      Claire opened her mouth to refuse yet again, but something in his manner stopped her. Since breaking off his engagement to the incredibly beautiful and successful London, his behavior had changed. It was as if he’d lost a bit of his cockiness, which was strange, since she knew he was the one who’d ended things. Maybe Linc had decided that had been a mistake.

      London had already rebounded, making a splash in the society pages after being seen on the arm of millionaire playboy and race car driver Harrison Crosby. Claire wouldn’t be surprised if Linc was a little jealous that London had bounced back so fast.

      “You can’t watch Honey,” Claire said, plucking her daughter from his grasp.

      Honey protested being taken away from Linc, but Claire struggled to maintain a severe expression while ignoring her daughter’s scowl. It was like trying not to smile at a puppy growling fiercely as it plays. Honestly, the child was too adorable for her own good. She’d inherited her father’s charisma. The man could charm fruit off trees. Or the pants off unsuspecting culinary school students, which was what she’d been when they first met.

      “If I remember correctly,” Claire continued, “you’re supposed to have lunch with your mother today.”

      Linc made a face. “I haven’t forgotten.”

      He grabbed his duffel bag and turned to leave the kitchen. Before he took more than two steps, Claire cleared her throat. When he pivoted back around, she was holding up the smoothie. Disgust twisted his handsome features, but he took the drink. She didn’t know what sorts of things he put into his body when he was away from Charleston, but while he was within her care, she made sure he ate nutritious and delectable meals.

      “I want to see you taste it before you leave,” she said. “That way I know you won’t throw it out.”

      “You seem pretty sure of yourself.” He lifted the glass and took a doubtful sniff.

      “Food can be healthy and delicious.”

      “In my experience, the two don’t go hand in hand.” He radiated suspicion as he took a small sip. “Hey!” His eyes widened. “This one actually tastes good.”

      Her heart did a happy little leap. To cover her reaction to his praise, she gave a satisfied nod. “I added a little agave syrup to satisfy your sweet tooth.”

      “You’re the best.”

      Warmed by his words, Claire let her gaze linger on his departing figure. Then shaking herself free of his spell, she carried her daughter into the sunroom next to the kitchen, where Honey had stripped off her clothes earlier. The room was filled with books and toys to keep the toddler occupied while Claire worked in the kitchen.

      Once Honey was dressed, Claire settled her into a booster chair at the kitchen table. Sunlight spilled across the two-year-old’s light brown hair, awakening the gold highlights and making her hazel eyes twinkle. She had her father’s coloring. Claire’s espresso hair and brown eyes were not at all represented. The only mark she’d made on her daughter was her petite frame. Where Jasper had been six-three and broadly built, Honey was in the twenty-fifth percentile for height and weight.

      With Linc off to the gym, the house settled back into its usual state of harmonious calm. It wasn’t that his energy was all that chaotic, but his presence tended to stir up feelings Claire would have preferred not to think about. Plus, during the seven months of baseball season, she’d grown accustomed to having the four-bedroom, five-bathroom home in the prestigious South of Broad—or SOB—neighborhood to herself and Honey.

      While the toddler ate bits of a homemade blueberry waffle and slices of banana, Claire made out a grocery list. Linc had decided to host a dinner party on Saturday. It was his first time entertaining formally since his engagement to London had ended. When they were together, the socialite had preferred to host all their events at her mansion. London had always made it clear she doubted Claire’s experience and sophistication to pull off a Charleston-worthy event. On the surface, London had been right to judge Claire this way. Her upbringing in San Francisco was a pretty far cry from the pomp and circumstance that ruled Charleston society.

      But Claire cooked like a dream. Everyone who’d tasted her food said so. In fact, it was on the strength of her culinary skills that she’d found her way to filling in for Bettina’s housekeeper during a ladies’ luncheon and eventually taking the job with Linc.

      As soon as Honey finished her breakfast, Claire dressed her in an adorable outfit she’d found at a consignment shop and headed to the local gourmet grocery store with her list. The menu required several specialty ingredients and Claire knew she’d find everything she needed there.

      While she shopped, she kept Honey occupied by practicing her colors.

      “What color is this?” Claire asked, showing her a box of elbow macaroni.

      “Green,”