Their Instant Baby. Cathy Gillen Thacker

and she didn’t want to know if he felt the same potent physical attraction. Because Amy wasn’t looking for a fling. She was looking for a deeply satisfying relationship of the heart. One that led to marriage and children of her own. Lola had said little to Amy about her older brother except that she adored him and despaired that Nick’s future did not and never would include marriage and kids.

      Which of course immediately struck him off Amy’s list, despite any attraction she felt for the sexy single man.

      Twenty minutes later Dexter had finished the bottle of Lola’s breast milk and was sleeping soundly in Amy’s arms. Figuring she had better put him in his crib to finish out his nap while she could, Amy stood ever so slowly up with the baby in her arms and made her way cautiously to the nursery. She placed Dexter on his back in the crib, then went to change out of Lola’s robe and into the yellow shirt.

      Apparently finished with his business calls and e-mail, Nick was waiting for her when she came back out to the living room, a worried look on his face. “What’s wrong?” Amy asked immediately, not really all that sure she wanted to hear the answer. She and Nick had been baby-sitting his nephew for only an hour or so, and already she was exhausted from simultaneously trying to do right by Dexter and fight her attraction to Nick. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel by the time Lola and Chuck returned, if this kind of emotional whirlwind kept up.

      Nick inclined his head in the direction of the kitchen. “By my calculations, there’re only a few days’ worth of breast milk in Lola’s freezer.”

      “We can buy formula at the grocery store and use that until Lola gets back.” Amy paused at the concern on his face. “You don’t think Dexter’s going to like it, do you.”

      “Probably not, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The more pressing question at the moment is—” he held her gaze “—how the three of us are going to manage in such tight quarters.”

      Amy told herself it was tension causing her heart to pound and her mouth to go dry, not his proximity. “I think it’ll be okay,” she fibbed as she brushed past him and headed for the refrigerator. Ignoring his frank appraisal of her as they talked, Amy pulled out a cold can of vegetable juice and popped the top. Right about now, she could use a healthy pick-me-up. Anything to calm her nerves and make the overall situation seem more manageable. “After all—” Amy continued, trying not to feel self-conscious in her snug-fitting, long-sleeved yellow shirt with the Amy’s Complete Redecorating Service logo, khaki shorts, sneakers and socks “—it’s not like you and I are going to be with each other twenty-four hours a day.” She offered Nick a bracing smile. “I am still going to have to go to work.” Which would offer a lot of personal satisfaction, as well as distraction from Nick’s sexy presence. “And Lola said you are going to be conducting some business here in Charleston, too.”

      Nick’s expression turned thoughtful as his gaze continued to drift over her hair, face and lips with disturbing thoroughness before returning to her eyes. “That’s right,” he said, moving closer, every inch of him the hard, indomitable male. “I have an idea for a new syndicated television show I want to pursue.”

      Amy took another swallow of chilled vegetable juice. “And I have a decorating job that has to be done right away for my aunt Winnifred.” Amy was embarrassed to feel a little excess juice on the corners of her lips. She paused to wipe it off with her fingertips, damning the fact that Nick had noticed—and tracked—that movement, too. “So most likely, you’ll be here with Dexter while I’m off doing my thing,” Amy continued with an airy confidence she didn’t begin to feel, “and then I’ll be here with him while you’re off doing your thing.” During the day, they could rarely, if ever, cross paths, Amy reassured herself optimistically, as she took another long, bracing swallow of juice. If she was lucky, she continued bolstering herself firmly, and Nick’s work included some evening jaunts, the same would be true of the majority of their nights, as well.

      “Actually, speaking of work…there’s something you could help me with,” Nick said, a hopeful expression on his face.

      Amy’s brow furrowed at the abrupt change in Nick’s mood. She didn’t know anything about producing television shows. “What?” she asked him curiously, as she glanced into the utility area on the back porch to see if a load of wash was done. It wasn’t.

      Nick flashed her a winning smile and focused on her flushed face and tousled hair. “Like getting me an introduction to your mother right away.”

      NICK SAW AMY’S SMILE fade and her eyes go dark almost instantaneously. Then and there he knew he’d made a mistake. “My mother has an agent who handles queries,” Amy said.

      “Her agent isn’t returning any calls about any opportunities right now,” Nick said.

      Hectic color filled Amy’s cheeks as she folded her arms defiantly. “That’s because my mother doesn’t want to work right now,” Amy explained with exaggerated patience.

      Nick moved closer, ignoring the apple-blossom fragrance clinging to Amy’s dark, tousled hair and golden skin. This was no time to be noticing how sexy her slim legs were, or how bare, or wondering how they would feel wrapped around his waist. Amy was his sister’s best friend, Dexter’s other godparent, for heaven’s sake. Not to mention the daughter of a television superstar he would very much like to do business with. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked by a lust that was likely to be as short-lived as his time in South Carolina. He didn’t need to be recalling how beautiful and full and enticing her breasts were beneath the transparent lace of her low-cut bra, not unless he wanted to forget everything important and concentrate on getting her into his arms and into his bed.

      “Which is why,” Amy continued with a haughty toss of her hair, exasperation tinging her low voice, “my mother came home to Charleston. She doesn’t want to be bothered by you and every other relentless television executive, bent on getting her to listen to his or her pitch of what she should do next. She wants to take her time, relax first, recuperate from her years and years of getting up every morning at 3:00 a.m., before moving on to the next phase of her life.”

      Nick could imagine there were other reasons Grace Deveraux had gone into seclusion. Grace’s being fired from one of the network morning news and entertainment programs in New York City had been both humiliating and unexpected—at least as far as the viewing public was concerned. Grace had been a fixture in homes across America for the past fifteen years. People had watched her as they drank their morning coffee, dressed for work and got their kids ready for school. Finding out the network had given Grace and her equally popular male cohost at Rise and Shine, America! the ax had infuriated the duo’s many fans.

      What Grace obviously hadn’t realized, however, was that this was no time for her to go into hiding. With sentiment so strong, now was the time for her to move on. And Nick knew this with every ounce of business acumen he possessed. “All I want is a few moments of your mother’s time,” he persisted, as aware that he was further infuriating and disappointing Grace’s daughter as he was that business was the one pleasure left in his life.

      Amy glared at him. “So, call her agent again.”

      Nick studied her. Was it his imagination, or did Amy have the ripest, most kissable lips he had ever seen? The softest, most feminine hands? “You resent me for even asking you to do this, don’t you?”

      Amy’s expression turned fiercely independent and protective once again as she set her empty can aside, leaned back against the kitchen counter and braced her hands on either side of her. “What do you think?”

      Nick shrugged and moved a bit closer. A little show of temper was not going to deter him. Ignoring the feelings of desire generated by her proximity, he continued his honest appraisal of her actions in an effort to bring her around to what was best here, not just for him, but for all concerned. “I think,” he told her calmly, ignoring the flash of resentment in those turquoise eyes, “that you don’t have your mother’s best interests at heart.”

      Amy released a short, impatient breath and continued to hold his eyes like a warrior princess in battle.