Corporate Daddy. Arlene James

herself as the child giggled that it was just a game. Amanda Sue would forget her once she had completely bonded with her father, a process that seemed to be proceeding apace.

      The growling of Amanda Sue’s stomach stopped her giggles cold. Comically, the baby lifted her head and peered down at her belly, a look of wonder on her face. Emily and Logan laughed. Emily said, “Someone’s hungry.”

      Amanda Sue promptly flopped over and sat up, holding out a hand. “Bobble,” she demanded.

      Emily smiled. “All right, young lady, a bottle it is.” She gathered the child into her arms and looked at Logan. “If you’ll take her back upstairs and change her diaper, I’ll heat the milk and fill the bottle.”

      “I thought she drank cold milk now.”

      “She does, but warm milk will help her sleep.”

      He lifted both brows, suddenly seeming much too close sitting there on the side of the bed. “You mean that old wive’s tale about warm milk is true?”

      “I do.” She tickled Amanda Sue under the chin. “A warm bottle and dry diaper ought to have this little lady snoozing again in no time.” She held Amanda Sue toward her father. “Go with Daddy, sweetheart, and I’ll bring you a bottle. Okay?”

      Amanda Sue nodded emphatically and, leaning sideways, looped an arm around her father’s neck. Logan folded her against him and kissed the tip of her nose. She giggled and wrinkled her nose at the prick of his beard. Logan chuckled and stood. “Come on, then, sweetheart. We’ve got one end dry, now let’s try the other.”

      “I’ll be up in a minute,” Emily said, watching as they left the room. Logan’s broad back was straight and strong as he carried his daughter through the door. Emily swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood. Moving quickly, she padded barefoot into the kitchen, poured milk into a measuring cup and heated it in the microwave for several seconds. After testing it, she heated it a few seconds more, then poured it into a clean bottle and carried it upstairs.

      Logan was still trying to get a dry diaper on Amanda Sue, who was repeatedly lifting both legs and letting them fall again. “Amanda Sue, please stop,” he was pleading. “Stop kicking. Let Daddy fix your diaper.”

      Emily stepped to his side. The child spotted the bottle and let out a cry, reaching for it, but Emily shook her head. “Not until you let Daddy fix your diaper.”

      Amanda Sue promptly collapsed her legs. After a second or so, she reached for the bottle again, and Emily handed it over. Immediately, Amanda Sue lifted her legs, much to her father’s irritation. Emily took the bottle back.

      “That’s not fair, Amanda Sue,” she admonished gently but firmly. “Let Daddy finish the diaper, and I’ll give you the bottle.”

      Amanda Sue’s bottom lip protruded in a pout, but she lay still long enough for Logan to fix the diaper and snap closed the legs of her knit sleeper. Emily handed over the bottle and picked up the baby, moving to the rocking chair. “It isn’t good to let them fall asleep with a bottle in their mouths,” she explained. “Leads to tooth decay.”

      “Ah.”

      She sat down and helped Amanda Sue get comfortable. “Will you wind the music box and lower the lights?”

      Logan nodded, then said, “Let me wash my hands.”

      “Good idea.”

      He left them for a time, then returned to do as Emily had requested. “You can go on to bed, if you want,” she said, looking up at him.

      He nodded, but instead of leaving the room, he began straightening the covers in the crib, then brought Amanda Sue her Sugar Bear. She grinned her thanks around the nipple in her mouth and got her customary headlock on the stuffed toy. Within minutes, the bottle was drained and Amanda Sue was rubbing her eyes. Emily looked around to find that Logan had left the room quietly. She rocked a little while longer, then gently moved Amanda Sue to her bed, tucked her in with her Sugar Bear and kissed her forehead. Amanda Sue closed her eyes and sighed deeply, well on her way to a sound sleep.

      Emily slipped out into the hall and gently closed the door behind her, the empty bottle in hand. To her surprise, Logan pushed away from the wall and came to her side, whispering, “Is she asleep?”

      “Almost. I think we ought to let her get herself to sleep this time,” Emily replied as they moved on down the hall. “If she cries again, go back in but don’t take her out of bed. Instead, reassure her in whispers and try to settle her into sleep that way, so she’ll learn that she can’t expect to get picked up whenever she demands.”

      Logan nodded, a hand on the back of his neck. “It wasn’t my imagination, though, was it? She really was crying for her mother, wasn’t she?”

      “I think so,” Emily told him. “I think she did dream about Donna and wake up missing her. It’s only natural, you know, and it may happen again, but you know how to handle it now, just keep assuring her that you love her.”

      Logan sighed and slid an arm around her shoulders, saying, “I owe you so much. You’ve taught me things I couldn’t have learned anywhere else. I didn’t even realize how important it was to say the words until you prodded me.”

      “It’s always important to say the words,” she said, “but you’d figure out most of this stuff on your own in time.”

      Logan shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s still so much to think about. For instance, shouldn’t she be giving up that bottle pretty soon?”

      They had reached the head of the stairs, and Emily turned to face him, intentionally dislodging his arm. It was proving difficult to think clearly with that arm wrapped around her. At the same time, it felt oddly natural. She pushed her hair over her shoulder, saying, “Your instincts are better than you think. Yes, I’d say that it was time to think about giving up that bottle, but if it was me, I’d wait a few weeks, be sure she’s settled in well with the new nanny and all.”

      He nodded thoughtfully. “Right. She has enough to deal with just now. What about potty training, though? When do we start that?”

      Emily chuckled. The middle of the night was a strange time to be discussing such subjects, but she answered him anyway as she descended the stairs. “It’s too early for that, in my opinion, but it won’t be long. I’d say that in a few months you ought to buy a potty chair and put it in her bathroom. Talk about it and what it’s for, then later you put her in pull-ups, disposable diapers made like panties. After that, you buy some talking books, the ones with the little recorders built into them, and when you sit her on the chair, you let her entertain herself with one of those books so she’ll stay there long enough to get her business done. But even then you’ll have to clean her up, praise her, and reward her, remembering that she’s going to have accidents from time to time, and this is all moot because the nanny is going to handle it anyway. Not that you won’t have a hand in it. You’re her father, after all.”