The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

three months or younger, she’s too young to roll.”

      Even if she were four months, she wouldn’t be able to roll more than once, and from her tummy to her back, not the other way around. She’d learned that when Nora Earnshaw had cared for an infant for a short time. A seven-year-old Trinity had spent all her spare time with that child. When the baby was taken away suddenly one day, she’d been so heartbroken and lonely; she’d barely eaten for weeks. The only saving grace was that the baby’s new foster home had to be better than Nora’s house. Maybe he’d even been adopted by a couple who never let him cry.

      Zack smoothed a hand through his coal-black hair. “Then I guess I’ll get that bottle underway.”

      Smiling to herself, Trinity watched him disappear then bent over to touch the sniffling baby’s forehead with her own. To think a big, bossy man like Zack Harrison standing all the way back there. Anyone would think he was afraid of holding this little cherub, of bringing her close, whereas any person in their right mind would find it hard to let her go.

      Ten minutes later, Trinity emerged from the bedroom feeling most pleased with herself. The baby wore a fresh diaper as well as an intent, curious expression in her gorgeous robin’s-egg-blue eyes as if she wanted to thank this strange woman but didn’t know how. In the kitchen, his cuffs folded back, Zack was busy shaking a full bottle over his wrist. The image was so incredibly sexy, as well as rather funny and tender, something unfamiliar shifted inside and Trinity cradled the baby all the closer. Did all men look slightly awkward yet undeniably hot when performing this kind of domestic feat? Zack was so focused on his task he hadn’t noticed the liquid spraying on his previously immaculate hardwood floor. Talk about single-minded.

      “Milk stains, you know,” she said, crossing over.

      His dark eyes flashed as he glanced up then down at the formula sprayed on the floor and his shoes. Grunting, he dropped a nearby dishcloth. Keeping a firm hold on the bottle, he rubbed the cloth over the damp area with a foot.

      “The temperature needed checking.”

      “If you’d kept going,” she teased, “there wouldn’t be anything left in the bottle.”

      With a lopsided smile that did bone-melting things to her pulse, he held the bottle high.

      “I’m happy to report the beverage is well mixed and—if I do say so myself—perfectly warmed.”

      “In that case…” She made to hand over the baby. “Would you care to do the honors?”

      His smug smile vanished. “I’ll take the next shift.”

      “She won’t bite.”

      “How do you know?”

      Trinity wondered what he’d do if she plunked the baby in his arms and told him to handle it. If she’d let him tell her what to do, she’d have been on her way back to New York and he’d be here all alone with an infant to care for. Lucky for him she wasn’t a pushover.

      Trinity headed for the open plan area. “I’ll need a seat.”

      As he overtook her, a hot palm grazed the small of her back and that unfamiliar feeling filled her middle again, spreading heat up toward her chest and throat. For a mindless moment, she held on to the feeling before dragging herself back. Given Zack’s lack of confidence in this area, it was up to her to stay on top of things.

      Wouldn’t this make a great story. Hotelier Magnate Admits To Failings.

      Stopping at the dining table, Zack held out a carved wooden chair and, with a flourish, indicated she should sit. Trinity studied the chair’s upright back and wrinkled her nose.

      “Maybe something a little more comfortable.”

      Frowning, he pushed the chair back in. Next she was shown to one of those sumptuous white leather recliners. Feeling as if she were descending into a cloud, she seated herself. A lever on the recliner’s side was lifted, a footrest whirred out and her legs rose until they were near horizontal. Zack couldn’t have looked prouder if he’d single-handedly closed down a community hall to build yet another skyscraper—which he had just last month.

      Finding the baby, accompanying Zack Harrison into the middle of nowhere—this entire evening had been surreal. But reclining here with Zack looming closer left her feeling more than a little edgy. And curious. The media was awash with shots of his recent breakup with starlet Ally Monroe. So who was Zack seeing at the moment? Did he feel any guilt over business decisions that had hurt ordinary Americans? Was he as good in bed as the world envisioned him to be?

      After meeting him, she’d wager he was even better. Any woman with half her quota of hormones would sizzle in his presence. Girls had probably mooned over him since middle school.

      Zack was standing, legs braced, hands low on his hips. “What else do you need?”

      She brought her focus back to the baby, who was peering up, a tiny frown pinching her brow while four little fingers wiggled above the turn of her wrap. “Can I have a hand towel? Something to mop up any excess?”

      He handed over the bottle and she watched him stride away, drinking in the way his long, solid legs worked to create such a smooth, fluid gait. A moment later, he handed over a towel and, standing back again, squared those impressive shoulders.

      “Good luck,” he said in a mock-solemn tone that pried a smile from her lips.

      “I’ll report back on casualties,” she replied, checking the measurements embossed on the bottle’s side before lowering the nipple.

      Alert baby blues opened wider. In a heartbeat, the baby had latched on and was sucking like she hadn’t eaten in days. Trinity’s stomach knotted tight. How long had it been since her last feeding? Where was her mother? Child Services knew of the situation, but how long before this little sweetheart was taken away?

      Of course, the mother might be off searching for her right now. If that were the case, Trinity hated to think of the agony that woman must be going through. Much like her own mother before—

      “No one’s called back yet,” Zack said.

      Trinity’s train of thought shifted back to the present. Zack was lifting a dining chair and setting it down beside her. Elbows on knees, he leaned forward and threaded his fingers. Trinity wondered why he didn’t take a seat on a recliner. Maybe he was more comfortable keeping that bit of distance.

      “I wonder when the police will arrive,” she said, balancing the bottle in the V of her hand as the baby chugged.

      “This weather’s probably holding them up. I’ll flick on the news channel soon to see if anything’s been reported. Maybe give them a call myself to make sure all the right info was passed on.” His gaze on the baby now, his chin tipped up and a shadow of a smile touched his lips. “You look like you’re an old hand at this.”

      “She’s the one doing all the work.” And working at full steam!

      Outside, the wind howled and, beyond a set of floor-to-ceiling French doors and windows, Trinity watched more snow fall while the baby settled down.

      After a time, Zack shifted uneasily. “Shouldn’t she be burped sometime soon?”

      “Bet you’ll look like an old hand at it.”

      He sat slowly back. “On second thought, you’re doing a great job.”

      “For a big, tough corporate type, you really are a chicken.”

      “Sticks and stones.”

      But, while Zack might be hesitant to be hands-on, he did have a point about stopping to let the baby bring up wind. Trinity drew the near empty bottle from her mouth and, bracing herself, waited for the grumble. When the baby only released a quivering sigh and blinked slumberous, contented eyes, Trinity smiled.

      Too easy.

      She rested the baby against the left side of her chest