The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

heaven, she felt so small. So precious.

      Minutes passed and, still patting, Trinity became curious. Then a little worried. Nothing was happening. Perhaps she ought to feed her the rest of the bottle. Maybe Zack should make another one, too. Or wasn’t she burping her right?

      Zack must have read the uncertainty in her eyes. He sent over an encouraging look.

      “Give her a chance. Her digestive system’s only new.”

      She gave him a look. How do you know so much?

      He shrugged. “Lots of nieces and nephews.”

      Two minutes later, he was sitting on the edge of his chair, clasped hands resting against his chin, his brow lined. “Maybe pat a little harder.”

      Trinity’s back went up. She didn’t need the added pressure. “Maybe you could go and organize your next big takeover.”

      “I’m taking a couple of days off.”

      “Then maybe go make us something to eat.” Instead of sitting there, watching her every move and making her all jittery.

      He stayed put. “How do you know I can cook?”

      “Same way you knew I could change a baby.”

      He chuckled, then, looking suitably magnificent, he got to his socked feet. “In that case, prepare to be dazzled.”

      She rolled her eyes and kept patting. “Let me guess. Macaroni and cheese.”

      “You do realize that you are now in the wild. I’m all that separates you from any kind of sustenance and starvation.”

      The baby answered for her, with a loud, most unladylike burp.

      His jaw dropping, Zack drew a set of fingers through his hair. “Seems her digestive system is working just fine.”

      Encouraged, Trinity eased out of the recliner onto her feet then patted some more. The baby rewarded them with another belch. Bringing the baby away from her shoulder to examine her face, Trinity beamed.

      “Oh, she looks completely satisfied.”

      That’s when the baby burped again. But this time, wind wasn’t the only thing she brought up.

       Three

      With that third big burp, not a whole lot stayed down.

      The first priority—bathe the wailing baby!—was performed with much haste in the nearby laundry sink. Trinity found the task a slippery business, but when the baby had finally settled down from her upset, the kicking, splashing and happy squeals had made it a surprisingly enjoyable job as well.

      After the baby was dried, powdered, rediapered then dressed in one of the outfits bought earlier in town, Trinity swapped her own soiled blouse for a clean one. Hours of rocking, singing and cooing, interspersed with more measured bottle feeds, followed. Far from laying bricks or digging holes, but energy requirements were surprisingly high. Trinity supposed she could have laid the baby back in her carrier and hoped for the best—that she wouldn’t whine—but those big blue eyes were so trusting, she simply couldn’t.

      Zack busied himself preparing dinner for the adults—steak and salad—of which not a single bite touched their lips. She was too occupied with the baby, and Trinity supposed Zack might feel guilty eating when she couldn’t. He also made a cot of sorts in one of the recliners—comfortable, high enclosures, plenty of room. When the baby eventually shuddered out one last exhausted sigh and snuggled in, hopefully for the night, Trinity lowered her gently down into her bed and gazed at the peaceful sight for a long, thankful moment. Then she took her weary self and heavy arms off for a lovely hot shower.

      Her choice of clothing afterward fell between a business suit or red silk pajamas…large jacket, long pants, all lined with soft brushed cotton. Matching slippers. Easy decision. In the privacy of the bedroom, she slipped into the soft silky folds, feeling too exhausted to worry about whether her attire was appropriate in the company of a man she knew only by reputation, and a bad reputation at that. But she doubted Zack would have the energy to goad. If he was half as tired as she was, he wouldn’t notice whether she stumbled out wrapped in a black cape and gnashing a set of fangs.

      Damp hair caught in a messy bun, feeling squeaky-clean and ready to collapse, Trinity lumbered into the living room. She stopped at the foot of the stairs.

      But for the rush of wind outside, the house was eerily quiet. The room was completely dark, too, except for the flickering glow emanating from the far wall. Hugging herself, Trinity edged closer. Over the top of the recliners, a glorious sight bit by bit came into view.

      Crouched beside the fireplace, her handsome host was busy tending crackling orange-and-blue flames…a hypnotic sight that had Trinity’s lips parting to take in a dash more air. With slow, shifting shadows moving over his body—and the chiseled planes of his face—he seemed to sense her presence and glanced over. His gaze intensified then wandered to absorb her every inch, from the top of her wild bun all the way down to the red pom-poms on her feet. His study was so deliberate—so unapologetically favorable—it was more a self-indulgent, scorching touch. In the space of those few seconds, she’d never felt more like a woman. More desirable.

      With just a look.

      In one fluid movement, he pushed to his feet and set the poker blindly against the fireplace then moved nearer.

      “You look ready for bed.”

      His words—low, husky—enveloped her as he stopped an arm’s length away. A heartbeat later, when his scent wove into her lungs, Trinity involuntarily quivered inside and out. The seductive nature of the shadows, the blatant power of his presence…She felt so out of time and place, so unlike herself—if Zack touched her now, God help her, she might forget everything of which she disapproved and simply melt into a puddle at his feet.

      “You were incredible.” His lidded gaze dipped to her lips and his chest rumbled. “You must be exhausted.”

      Her mouth suddenly gone dry, Trinity tried to clear her swimming head. Yes, she was exhausted. Clearly more exhausted than she’d even thought.

      “I knew she’d go down eventually,” she said.

      “At one stage I had my doubts.” He flicked a look over at the baby sound asleep in her makeshift bed. “I can’t see her waking anytime soon.”

      “Let’s hope. I don’t have one more verse of ‘Bye Baby Bunting’ left in me.”

      He tipped his head toward the fireplace.

      Her eyes had adjusted more to the lack of light. A thick quilt was lain out with plump white pillows propped up against the other recliners.

      “I’ve imagined enjoying a brandy before a quiet fire since four o’clock this afternoon. Care to join me?”

      Trinity’s pulse rate picked up a notch. After having spent the previous hands-on hours with him helping where he could, she might feel a little less hostile toward him, but not nearly enough to agree to lying in front of a flickering fireplace, sipping a glass of forty proof. But before she could decline, Zack threw up his hands.

      “Yes, I know you think I’m a wolf—”

      “Along with anyone else who picks up a magazine or goes on the web.”

      He exhaled but his mouth managed to retain his sexy smile. “Anyway, I give my word I won’t use my apparently world-renowned seduction techniques to take advantage of the situation.”

      “And I should believe you why?”

      “Because you’re not my type, remember?”

      Trinity paused. She had said that back at the hotel and anyone who understood the meaning of the saying