The Texas Christmas Gift. Cathy Thacker Gillen

      Whatever the client wanted. Within reason. That was the rule. “Not at all,” Eve fibbed. “Where are we going?”

      “I have to pick up my daughter by five-thirty. I’ll have her until tomorrow evening.” He paused to help Eve with her coat, and then escorted her out to a late-model Jaguar SUV. He opened the passenger door, waited for her to slide in, then circled around to the driver’s side.

      Impressed with his good manners—it had been a long time since she had met anyone so naturally chivalrous—Eve pulled out her notebook again. Determined to keep things strictly business, she asked, “You want to take her with us when we look?”

      “Tomorrow, when we go see the house we select, yes. As for this evening, I plan to take her back to my hotel, feed and bathe her, and then put her to bed.”

      Eve wasn’t sure where that left her and the business she needed to conduct.

      Derek continued, “And while I do all that, we’ll have a little chat about what property would be best suited for my daughter and me.”

      Eve wasn’t surprised. Most single parents were adept multitaskers. Still, she would have preferred they talk under less intimate circumstances. She wanted to know only enough about him and his life to do her job well. Anything else would be just too personal.

      He turned onto Crescent Avenue. “I assume you have most of the property specs on the computer?”

      Eve nodded. “Including visual tours.”

      “Then we should be able to pick one.”

      Derek parked in the driveway of one of the largest, most elegant properties in Highland Park. “Mind giving me a hand? There’s a lot of stuff when we switch back and forth.”

      So now she was a bellboy, too. What next? A nanny? Tamping down her irritation, Eve flashed a smile. “No problem.”

      This time, she managed to exit the sedan before Derek could gallantly lend a hand. If he noticed her effort to keep things on an impersonal level, he didn’t show it. Instead, he seemed distracted, almost eager, as they walked to the front door. The doorbell was answered by an attractive brunette in a silk shirt, heels and jeans. She had a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her nose and a pen tucked into the short, sophisticated curls above her ear. Her expression was intellectual—and kind.

      “Hey, stranger!” She greeted Derek with a friendly pat on the arm and a peck on his cheek. “How’s the house-hunting going?”

      Derek inclined his head at Eve. “We haven’t really started yet. Carleen, this is Eve Loughlin. Eve, Carleen Walton, my ex-wife.”

      The woman grinned and extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

      They certainly were friendly, Eve noted. Maybe the most amiable exes she had ever seen. “Nice to meet you, too,” she replied.

      A tall forty-something man ambled up with a baby in his arms.

      “And this is Craig, my husband,” Carleen continued. “With our baby, Tiffany.”

      And what a beautiful baby she was, Eve could not help but note.

      The one-year-old had a cloud of dark curly hair, like her mom’s, and Derek’s vivid sea-blue eyes. She was dressed in a white turtleneck, ruffled red velvet overalls and shiny, high-topped shoes. Spying Eve, she beamed, her smile revealing four teeth, two on the bottom and two on top.

      Eve had never been much of a baby person. She saw no reason to lust after something she likely would never have. But something about this little girl captivated her attention.

      Still grinning, Tiffany lifted her chubby little hands to her face and spread her fingertips over her eyes. “Peek—boo!” she chirped to Eve.

      Eve couldn’t help it; she chuckled. She lifted her hands to her own eyes and covered them playfully. “Peekaboo to you, too!”

      Tiffany threw back her head and chortled. Without warning, she lurched out of Craig’s arms and reached for Eve.

      Eve caught the infant, cuddling her close. It wasn’t the first time she had ever held a baby. However, it was the first time she’d held one and felt something catch in her heart.

      “She’s a real people person,” Carleen noted proudly.

      Craig agreed. “Never met a stranger...” he teased.

      Tiffany settled in Eve’s arms. She had that wonderful baby-fresh scent. A smear of what looked like strawberry yogurt at the corner of her mouth. More of it on her hands.

      Tiffany tilted her head to one side. She looked at Eve. “Mommy?” she asked.

      “No, I’m not a momma,” Eve said.

      Although for the first time in her life, she found herself wanting to be.

      Behind Craig came half a dozen more kids, from toddlers to teens. One of them was holding a wet baby wipe.

      “And the rest of our brood,” Craig continued. Catching Eve’s confused look, he said, “From my marriage to my late wife.”

      They all certainly looked happy, Eve thought, like the ideal blended family.

      Craig took the wipe and handed it to Eve as more introductions were made.

      Too late. The little girl’s sticky fingers had found their way to Eve’s hair and were wrapped in the long, silky strands, transferring strawberry yogurt even as they tugged.

      Tiffany giggled.

      Derek jumped in. “Honey, you can’t do that,” he chided, working to free the tiny fingers.

      “It’s okay,” Eve said.

      And despite the stickiness, she really didn’t mind.

      The close contact had given her a glimpse into the little girl’s personality. And what was there was all sweetness and innocence.

      She could see why Derek was so bent on being as close to his daughter as he could. And she admired the friendship and cooperation his ex and her new family demonstrated, as Carleen put a hat and jacket on their little girl before Derek took charge of putting Tiffany into her car seat. Craig and the kids carried several large bags of clothes and toys, and a stroller, out to the car.

      “I hope you can find something for Derek without too much delay,” Carleen told Eve pleasantly.

      Craig nodded. “Life will be a lot easier for them when they’re in a house instead of a hotel.”

      Where was the acrimony that usually existed in recently divorced couples? Eve wondered. Not that there was a residual attraction between them, either. The only love Carleen and Derek seemed to harbor for each other was the old-and-trusted-friends variety. Although why that would be a relief to Eve, she didn’t know. She was just helping Derek buy a house, not becoming part of this unorthodox situation.

      Eve returned Carleen’s and Craig’s smiles. She dipped her head in acquiescence, promising, “I’ll do my very best.”

      * * *

      “ANYONE EVER TELL you that you have the patience of a saint?” Derek asked several hours later, as he paced the length of his two-bedroom hotel suite, his drowsy daughter in his arms.

      He had shed the suit and tie shortly after they’d walked in, emerging from the bedroom in a pair of worn jeans and the same pale blue dress shirt he’d had on earlier. With the first two buttons undone, sleeves rolled to just below the elbow and the hem untucked, he looked casual and at ease. Having gotten a glimpse of the man he was in his off hours, Eve liked what she saw. It also gave her hope that she would eventually be able to connect with him on a more congenial level, and talk some sense into him when it came to looking for a place to call home.

      In the meanwhile, Tiffany had resisted being tucked in, so Derek was now “walking” her to sleep. It seemed to be working, Eve