Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,63
in the branches of the manufactured “tree,” complete with fabric leaves and stuffed animals hidden in various nooks and crannies. Her vivid green eyes glowed with happiness and Jack realized that nothing had ever given him greater pleasure than the sight of his niece’s beaming face.
“Like it?” he asked, striving to keep all trace of emotion from his voice. She nodded eagerly and her blondish-brown ringlets bobbed around her flushed cheeks. “It’s good to see her hair growing out,” he murmured to Annalise, who came to stand beside him.
“Did they cut it off after the accident?”
He nodded. “According to the pictures I’ve seen, she had beautiful long hair. But there were so many scalp lacerations, the doctors were forced to cut away large chunks of it. It seemed best to even it up and then let it grow out again. I just never realized how much work it would take to keep it from matting.”
Annalise released a chuckle. “The hazards of curly hair, I’m afraid. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been tempted to go for one of those super-short hairstyles Isabella’s sporting.”
He studied her bone structure for a long moment. “You’d look good no matter how you wore it.”
“Thanks.” She actually blushed. “The nice thing is, it’ll give me something in common with Isabella. We can do our hair together.”
He gave a short laugh. “Good luck. That was one of the battles her former nannies fought on a daily basis. She doesn’t like anyone touching her hair.”
“Probably because right after the accident it hurt her scalp. That shouldn’t be a problem any longer.” She spoke with a confidence he hoped would pan out, though he had serious doubts. “I’ll work with her on it.”
Jack examined the room with a frown. “I didn’t realize there would only be children’s beds in here. There’s no way you’ll fit in that tree fort.”
She shrugged. “No big deal. I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room.”
“Let’s check out the other bedroom before we decide.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Your room? I don’t think so.”
“Relax. I just thought if it had two beds we could move one of them in here.”
Her mouth tilted into a smile. “You sure, Mr. Mason? I could have sworn I saw a distinct green accent coloring that suggestion.”
“Not at all, Ms. Stefano. I’m perfectly satisfied with our current relationship.” He left her to ponder that while he crossed the hallway to the second bedroom. A huge king bed dominated the room. Annalise came to a stumbling halt behind him. “Puts paid to that idea,” he said.
“The couch it is,” she agreed. She spared a quick glance at her watch. “We have a couple of hours until lunchtime. I think I’ll check out the kitchen and see what supplies I’ll need to pick up before then.”
“I asked Taye’s housekeeper to take care of stocking the shelves and refrigerator. If she overlooked anything you think we’ll need, you can call up to the main house and she’ll be happy to have it delivered.”
“Taye?”
“Taye McClintock. He owns the McMansion we passed on our way here.”
Her lips twitched. “And is McClintock a McDreamy, a McSteamy or a McWeeny?”
“McWeeny?” Jack chuckled. Taye had been one of his best friends in college and possessed the face of an angel and the mind of a computer, and was the only man Jack had ever met who could romance a woman into his bed in five minutes flat. “Oh, Taye’s definitely a McWeeny, as I’ll be sure to inform him the next time I see him.”
She stared in horror. “You wouldn’t.”
“Not only would I, but I will.”
A fierce debate raged across her face before she turned on her heel. “I think I’ll unpack the car and get organized.”
He caught her arm. “The organizing can wait. I’ll unpack the car, while you wrestle Isabella into a bathing suit. Then we’ll hit the beach before the rays get too intense.”
The idea clearly appealed and she nodded. “Sold.”
Twenty minutes later, they were out the door and spreading their beach towels on the empty stretch of beach. To his intense interest, Annalise wore a modest two piece in an emerald green that brought out the gold highlights in her eyes. The bottoms were a pair of shorts that skimmed the tops of her thighs and showcased her mile-long legs. The top was equally modest, resembling a cropped tank that left her midriff bare.
If she thought he’d find it less appealing than something scantier, she’d underestimated him. If anything, the