Desire Collection: August 2017 Books 1 - 4. Rachel Bailey

throat. Her laugh was similar to Kari’s, but not. It was full-bodied and genuine and long on amusement and short on insincerity. Ellie, hearing her laugh, waved her hands around and laughed, too.

      God, this was what he’d wanted. Laughing kids, a gorgeous partner, Connor’s house filled with joy. He’d wanted this...with someone.

      But having it with a Harper woman was utterly out of the question.

      “Linc, you’re here. Excellent,” Jo said, noticing him hovering in the doorway. He kept his eyes on Tate’s face, and the laughter in her eyes faded along with the color of her skin. Then a blush appeared on her high cheekbones and mortification flashed in her eyes. So she was regretting last night’s madness, too.

      He still wanted to kiss the hell out of her, suck her nipples, slide his hand between her... Ballantyne! Pull yourself together!

      Linc headed for the coffee machine and, keeping his back to the room, yanked a cup from the cupboard and punched a button, mentally begging the machine to hurry up. He needed caffeine. Or a brain transplant. Either would do.

      Shoving his hand through his hair, he frowned at his mother. “Is there a reason that you are up and making us pancakes?” he asked, ignoring his mother’s narrowed eyes at his surliness.

      “Yes!” Jo retorted, sounding far too chipper for someone who was not a morning person.

      Something about his mother’s cat-eating-canary expression made the hair on Linc’s neck rise. He lifted a hand and scowled at her. “No.” He nailed her with a hard look. “Whatever it is, just no.”

      Jo pointed her spatula at the table. “Sit down. And maybe you can remember your manners and say good morning to our guest.”

      How old was he? Ten? Linc shot Tate a look and saw the twitch on her lips suggesting amusement. “Good morning, Tate.” He ran his hand over Ellie’s soft curls. God, she was cute. “Morning, honey.”

      Ellie leaned away from Tate and smiled at him, revealing two little teeth. She lifted her chubby arms, so he picked her up and settled her on his hip where she immediately grabbed his tie and wrapped it around her fingers.

      “You don’t have to hold her,” Tate said, sounding subdued.

      “I like kids,” Linc told her. It was the truth; he did like kids. Babies didn’t scare him; he’d raised Shaw from the time he’d been born, and he never once regretted having him in his life. Shaw was the best thing that had ever happened to him. What the hell was Kari’s problem pulling this crap twice? Whether Tate decided to track her down or not, he was going to find his ex and force her to take responsibility for her kid.

      She’d refused to be part of Shaw’s life, and he no longer wanted her to be, but, God, she wasn’t giving up this baby without, at the very least, a reality check from him. He owed Shaw’s half sister that.

      Linc turned to see Jo, holding a platter of pancakes, staring at him. The corners of her mouth kicked up, and she nodded as she approached the table. “You’re going to track her down, aren’t you?”

      Not bothering to issue a denial—his mom wouldn’t believe him if he did—he just took his seat at the table and tucked Ellie into the crook of his arm.

      “I think that’s the right thing to do,” Jo said, placing the platter on the table between them. Linc forked up a couple of pancakes to put on Shaw’s plate before pushing the platter in Tate’s direction.

      “You’re going to find Kari?” Tate demanded, her eyes flashing a hard-to-miss warning.

      “I’m not going to let her get away with this again. It’s b...” Linc looked at Shaw and swallowed the swear. “It’s not acceptable, Tate.”

      “I never said it was,” she protested. “It’s just that I have a problem with you pursuing this. It’s my problem.” Tate’s hot gaze threatened to singe his skin. “I will handle it.”

      “My PI already tracked her down once. He will again,” Linc stated, using his best don’t-argue-with-me voice.

      “I’ll use your PI, but I’ll pay for him and I’ll deal with him,” Tate insisted, adamant. Linc heard the bite in her voice and sighed when he realized that her lifted nose and snotty expression turned him on. Yep, the party was starting to happen in his pants again...

      “He’s expensive.”

      “My problem, my money,” Tate leaned forward, and he was distracted by her gaping shirt and the fantastic flash of rose-lace-covered breasts and a cleavage he wanted to ravish with his tongue. Ah, damn, he thought as his blood pumped into his penis. Smooth, fragrant skin, her breathy encouragement in his ear, those small hands on his—

      “Linc will pay Reame, the PI. And you will pay him back by staying here and acting as Shaw’s nanny for the next two months.”

      Wait! What? Had he really heard what he thought he heard?

      “Mom! What the hell?” he demanded, dropping his fork and yanking his eyes off Tate’s fabulous cleavage. Ellie let out a squeal at his raised voice, and he gently patted her thigh to reassure her, and she quickly settled again.

      “I’m leaving today, Ms. Taylor,” Tate said, panic coating her words.

      “Call me Jo, darling.” Taking her seat next to Linc, she sent Tate a serene smile, but he immediately recognized the determination in her eyes.

      “And, no, you’re not. You need a place to stay, and you need to spend some time with Shaw. I need to spend some time with my man... We’re thinking about flying to the Bahamas for a week. Linc needs someone to look after Shaw.” Jo picked up a pancake from the platter, placed it on her plate and, not appearing to have a care in the world, cut a piece off and lifted it to her mouth. She winked at Shaw, who tried to wink back. “It’s the perfect solution for everyone.”

      “No, it’s not. That’s not going to work for me,” Linc stated, in his coldest voice, the one he never recalled using on his mother before.

      “It won’t work for me, either.” Tate said, her voice shaking.

      “Well, it works for me,” Jo replied, still as cheerful as a sunbeam. She looked at Linc, and he immediately noticed the build-a-bridge-and-get-over-it look that was a feature of his teenage years.

      “Linc, with your trust issues and your protective streak, it’ll take you months to make the decision to hire a nanny and another six to choose one. I choose Tate. She’s related to Shaw, she’s lovely—”

      He knew exactly how lovely she was, but that had no bearing on this conversation. “She knows nothing about kids! She’s unconventional and a free spirit and jet-setter!”

      Tate glared at him, looking like she wanted to argue, but at the last moment she nodded, surprising him by agreeing. “All true.”

      Jo looked from Tate and then at him. “What nonsense! Yesterday afternoon, I called her boss, the executive producer, Keith someone, and asked for a reference on Tate.”

      Tate looked aghast. “You did what?”

      Linc groaned. “God, Mom.”

      “According to her boss, Tate is punctual and easy to work with. As smart as a whip. She writes and coproduces her show and helps out with the logistics. But, best of all, she’s utterly reliable.”

      His mother, Linc thought darkly, could be damn annoying.

      “Oh, God,” Tate muttered, putting her head in her hands. After a moment she dropped her hands and narrowed her eyes at Linc. “She’s your mother, talk to her.”

      He’d try. “Mom, you can’t ambush us like this.”

      “Just did,” Jo replied, and Linc heard the familiar sound of a text message coming into a phone. Jo pulled her cell out of the back pocket of her designer jeans and swiped her finger across the screen. When she looked up again,