The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

squeals before placing the formula canister on the counter. Clearly Trinity loved caring for the baby, which meant regardless of her teasing he was off the hook as far as hands-on went. And, seriously, no one wanted the poor kid to burst into tears the moment he took over, least of all him.

      A few minutes later, finished with the bottle preparation and curious, he moved into the laundry room. Trinity was drawing the baby out from the tub, laying her on a towel she’d spread on the counter. The front of her pj’s were wet. Strands of hair, too. But with her sleeves rolled up to the elbow, she either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and Zack wondered. What usually made Trinity this happy? Who were her friends? Where did she live in New York? Maybe they’d passed each other on the street. Had caught the same elevator.

      But the bigger question was: What was in store for them this evening? He’d displayed mammoth restraint last night. When he’d whipped her over, damn near on top of him, with her breasts through that silk pressed against him and her parted lips so close and tempting, he was still amazed he’d been able to bring his rabid testosterone levels down so quickly. But he’d never forced a lady into anything and had no intention of starting now. He didn’t have to. He’d made up his mind and whenever that happened—whether in the corporate world or the bedroom—the game was as good as won. He’d been gentle on Ms. Matthews up to this point. But when the baby went down tonight, he’d work it so Trinity couldn’t consider the word no. She wasn’t the only one who knew the meaning of resolve.

      Carefully drying the baby’s damp, fair curls, Trinity noticed him standing behind her. Her smile flashed wider, white and warm.

      “Just in time. Want to shake on some baby powder?”

      His stomach kicked. “On the baby?”

      “I can powder myself so, yes, the baby.”

      He handed over the talc bottle. “You did such a good job last time.”

      She shook powder on her palm before patting the white substance pretty much all over the child then reached for an undershirt. Zack cocked his head. It was ridiculously small. Then again, so were those limbs. The way Trinity maneuvered the baby’s head then arms through those tiny openings had Zack biting his lip. The one time he’d tried a similar feat with his firstborn nephew, he’d worried he might snap something. Too delicate. Too difficult. And yet Trinity made it look easy.

      “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

      She hesitated a heartbeat. “A friend gave birth a couple of years back,” she said, reaching for a clean diaper. “I helped with bits here and there.”

      “You were never worried you might accidentally let her slide off the counter or prick her with a pin?”

      “Well, sure, you have to be careful.”

      She lifted the baby’s bottom and slid the diaper underneath. She had the outfit paradigms worked out, too, slipping snug cuffs and sleeves over those teensy fists, one of which the baby had been busy sucking. Now, interrupted, she let out a little cry while those gorgeous blue eyes filled with tears. Zack dragged a hand down his face. He hated to see her upset. How did parents stand this kind of stuff full-time? Then again some fathers didn’t. If his dad had been around more for this kind of thing in those early years, perhaps his parents’ marriage wouldn’t be going through the problems it was now. The Harrison kids loved their time away with their father in Colorado once a year, but their mom had needed more from her husband. Unfortunately, his father had realized too late.

      When the numerous snaps were pressed shut, Trinity lifted the baby and cradled her close. “Is the bottle ready?”

      “I’ll make sure it’s still warm,” he said, striding out.

      A moment later, Trinity walked into the kitchen and he stopped shaking the nipple over his wrist. After dropping a kiss to the whimpering baby’s brow, she asked, “Shall we assume positions?”

      He held up the bottle. “Torpedo ready.”

      She moved to the recliner. “Lowering into position.”

      Seated, she took the bottle. A perfect landing was made and that lulling quiet, interspersed with the sound of suckling, again reigned supreme.

      As the baby drank, Zack quietly pulled over his usual dining room chair and, at a safe distance, settled down to watch. When the bottle was half-empty, it dawned; he should have been bored. Surely any novelty had worn off by now. No way would he sit around to watch any other infant feed, and yet here he was absorbed in every movement… . How her baby blues grew drowsier, the way her fingers squeezed the bottle like a kitten padding a soft blanket.

      Then again, it wasn’t as if he could go turn on the sports or catch up on the news on his laptop, which was out of battery. If he had other things to do, he’d be off doing them.

      He was about to suggest a burp when Trinity eased the bottle away and brought the baby upright. In a blink he was back with a hand towel. Please, Lord, let there be no horrific spitting up this time. After a moment or two rubbing, the baby rewarded them by bringing up a decent amount of wind. Zack let out that breath. Good girl!

      Trinity settled farther back into the lounge chair. “Hey, we’re really getting the hang of this.”

      Zack’s chest puffed out, too, but, of course, she was speaking to the baby. Those two were the team. He was merely the runner. Which was a novelty. Usually he was the one in the driver’s seat. At the office, he called the shots and others listened. In relationships, he set the tone and parameters or he didn’t call again. He liked to get along but it needed to be on his terms. That’s how he’d managed to stay successful, as well as single. A combination that served him well.

      “I’ve been thinking.”

      Dragging his gaze away from her lips, Zack brought himself back. “What’s that?”

      “Would it be wrong to give her a name while we’re taking care of her? It doesn’t feel right calling her ‘baby’ all the time.”

      “What did you have in mind?”

      “What girls’ names do you like?”

      He went blank. “I’ve never thought about it.”

      “Do traditional ones appeal? Emily, Molly, Beatrice?”

      “Maybe I’m more New Age.”

      “Brook, Fallon, Mira.” She lowered the baby and set the nipple back in her mouth. “Maybe Summer or Skye to go with her eyes.”

      Something clicked and he sat straighter.

      “I like Bonnie,” he said.

      “Pardon?”

      “‘Bonnie Blue Eyes.’ It’s a song.” His father used to sometimes sing it.

      Her gaze lowered to the baby again and she smiled, softer and more telling than ever. “I like it, too.”

      And he liked the way Trinity held her lip between her teeth when she was pleased. The way her eyes lit and throat made that cute humming sound. Hell, he even liked the way she rarely cut him an inch, sniping about past affairs and business decisions, neither of which she knew anything concrete about.

      Zack blinked and felt his brow furrow.

      Too much reflection. Maybe he was coming down with a strain of cabin fever.

      He crossed to the fireplace and while he selected a log from the stack, she asked, “Does your cell have service this morning?”

      “I got a call,” he said, finding the matches, “just before you two woke up.”

      “Child Services?” Her voice sounded hopeful but also a little troubled.

      “I’m sure the baby will be in good hands when she leaves us.”

      “I’d just love to know her story. What happened to her mother.”

      Same.