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“What would you have me do?” I demand.
She arches one eyebrow. “Fight dirty.”
Mischa coos in my arms and I give him a pained, tentative smile. “Do you agree with that plan?” I ask gently. “Do you think we need to try a different approach with Mama?” He tries to lift his little fist and then gets angry when he can’t. I sigh and kiss the top of his head.
“Ahem.”
I twist around to find Wren at the threshold to the living room. She’s wearing soft white pants and a black tank top that proves that, in just a matter of weeks, she’s got her figure back. But there’s still a certain softness to her, a new dimension in her hips and breasts that doesn’t do a damn thing to diminish my desire.
If anything, it only makes me want her more.
I stride toward her. As usual, she flinches anytime I get too close, but she stands her ground because I have her son.
Which is why I don’t hand him off so easily. The longer it takes me to pass him to her, the longer she’s forced to stay in my company.
“How are you?”
Her brows pinch together. “Fine.” She lifts her arms. “He must be hungry?—”
“You look beautiful.”
“Are you mocking me?” she asks as her hands falter and drift back to her sides. “Because I’ve been living in this tank top for two days now and Mischa peed on me just before you came to get him. I meant to change, but I was so exhausted, I collapsed before I could. So when you say I look good?—”
“I didn’t say you smelled good.”
For a brief, beautiful moment, I genuinely believe she’s going to crack a smile. Then her mouth decides otherwise and turns down at the corners. “Dmitri, we have a doctor’s appointment to get to and I still have to feed Mischa and take a shower myself. It’s his two-week checkup and I don’t want to be late.”
So much for that.
“No, of course not. How about you feed Mischa here and I’ll keep an eye on him while you shower and change? Then we can go to the appointment together.”
Her frown just deepens. “No need. Bee is taking us.”
“Actually, she’s busy today,” I lie smoothly, “so I’ll be your chaperone.”
Wren looks around me at Bee, who’s typing frantically away on her laptop. She pauses only long enough to glance in our direction. “Yup—sorry, hon. Something popped up last minute and I gotta handle it. I’ll be there next time, okay?”
She doesn’t wait for Wren to reply. She goes right back to typing, giving Wren no way out. I’m pretty sure I can see her grinning like a hyena in the reflection of her computer screen.
“Fine,” she sighs. “I guess you could take us just this one time.”
“Excellent. Want to feed him by the window?”
She eyes the armchair suspiciously, as if I have the damn thing booby-trapped or something. “I’ll feed him downstairs in the nursery. If you come get him in twenty minutes, I can have my shower and we’ll leave.”
Mission accomplished, I happily hand over Mischa to his stony-faced mother, who leaves without a goodbye. Once she’s gone, Bee drops the working too hard for conversation act, leaps to her feet, and applauds wildly.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about!” she cheers. “It’s about time you started getting creative.”
“She’ll be pissed at you for bailing on her.”
Bee shrugs. “She can’t be too pissed at me. I’m still recovering from my very recent death.”
“How long do you think you can get away with milking that excuse?”
“I’ll let you know when it runs out. Now, go. This is the first time you’ve got her all to yourself in weeks. Make the best of it. I can’t put this family together single-handedly, you know. God knows I’m trying.”
Snorting, I head to my room for a quick change, because as it happens, Wren’s not the only one Mischa likes to pee on. Then I head down to the lower penthouse to wait with our son while Wren gets ready.
