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“Do you want to feed her before we go?” Josephine rarely cried, so when she did, I would have done anything to stop it. She was just so tiny and helpless, ten or twelve pounds at most. It drove me mad to know she wanted something and I wasn’t able to give it to her immediately.
“No, she’ll be fine for ten minutes. Let’s go home.”
I hesitated, and Jo whimpered again. Every second I sat here kept her from being fed and comforted, so I put the car in gear and drove as fast as I dared while keeping my two passengers safe. Catherine talked to Jo the whole way and periodically patted my arm, soothing us both at once. It worked better on the baby.
By the time I pulled into the garage, Jo’s whimpers had turned into baby bird cries. I was wound so tight it was all I could do to throw myself out of the car, unbuckle her from her seat, and hold her against my chest.
We both calmed the instant I had her in my arms.
Catherine circled the car, grinning at me. “Are you stealing my baby, Elliot?”
I swayed with her the way she liked, palming the back of her head. “I really don’t like when she cries.”
Catherine leaned into me, looking at her daughter. She trailed a finger down her round little cheek and sighed. “I don’t either, but look at her. She’s just fine.”
“You should feed her. Now.”
Her eyes flared. “Yes, I was planning on it. You might have to give her back to me first.”
I did give her back, but it was harder than I ever would have predicted.
“Elliot!”
I looked up from my laptop, not surprised to see Catherine storming into the living room after putting Josephine to bed. She’d been out for a walk with her when the delivery had arrived and obviously hadn’t looked in her closet until now. I guess she’d discovered what I’d done, though she really shouldn’t have been surprised.
She stopped in front of where I was sitting on the couch, her hands flying to her hips. She might have been angry, but I was sidetracked by her thighs, bare in her little shorts and at my eye level.
Catherine’s thighs were milky pale and thick, coming together in a tight press. No light—or man, for that matter—could have escaped from between them. A tattoo that looked like embroidered orange and pink flowers adorned one, and a blooming cactus climbed up the other.
Without thought, which was extremely unlike me, I reached out to touch the cactus. Goose bumps sprouted on her skin along the path of my dragging fingertips. She was as soft as she looked, like smooth cream.
“I like this,” I murmured.
“Thank you.” She exhaled a jagged breath when I moved to the other leg, trailing my fingers along the flowers that looked like they were made of thread, a brilliant illusion created from ink. “They were done by an artist in Mexico.”
“They’re incredibly talented.”
“She is—wait a second.” She stomped her foot, sending a hypnotizing ripple up her leg. “I’m mad at you.”
I finally looked up at her face, not surprised to see her cheeks were flushed. It was difficult to feign being contrite with an erection, so I didn’t try.
“I can’t think of a reason you could be mad at me. Didn’t we have a nice day together?”
Her hands balled tight at her sides. I almost laughed at how pissed she was, but I didn’t think she’d take too kindly to that. Besides, deep down, I was pleased she wasn’t holding back anymore. I’d take her anger over her controlled politeness every day of the week.
“Don’t try to confuse me.” She tossed her arms out. “My closet is full, Elliot. Why is it full?”
“I shouldn’t think that’s too difficult to understand. I told you the clothes you tried on were a yes. I don’t know why you’d think I meant the one shirt you bought for yourself. I meant all of it.”
“You can’t just buy me an entire wardrobe,” she protested.
With a sigh, I set aside my computer and stood so we were toe to toe. I pressed my knuckle beneath her chin, tilting her face back.
“I think you’ll find I can, and I did. I know you liked what you tried on, so what’s the problem?”
“It’s too much, Elliot. I saw the price tags. It’s way,waytoo much.”
“Hmm. I disagree. You’re my assistant and required to dress professionally. Since I’m your boss, it’s my prerogative to supply you with what you need to do your job effectively. I decided you needed all the clothing you tried on today—”
