man who had decided—for whatever reason—to run her life. She'd known he'd spelled trouble that first day he'd walked into the shop. Virgos were like that.
"I don't suppose I get any explanations?" she asked as she dragged behind Axell into the echoing, empty designer house. He had Alexa. She wasn't likely to let her daughter out of her sight.
"You look like you need rest first. I'll pick up the kids at school, and I have Dorothy coming in to look after them. You get some sleep before the kids decide to entertain you. We can talk tomorrow."
Briskly, he carried Alexa to the room Maya and Matty had slept in before. A lovely hand-carved cradle padded with a pale pink mattress and sheet waited beside the bed. Tears sprang to Maya's eyes at the sight. A cradle. She'd wanted Alexa to have a cradle of her very own. She'd looked at doll's cradles, wondering if she could at least afford a toy. It wouldn't have lasted long, but it would have been better than a dresser drawer. And here was the real thing, with flowers and hummingbirds, and daubs of pink and blue paint. She wanted to sit on the floor beside it and sob her heart out.
She didn't think she could get back up if she did.
"Axell, you didn't buy that, did you?" she whispered, praying he'd say no so she wouldn't have to refuse it.
"Made it..." his voice broke and he coughed, "...a few years ago. Will it do?"
She heard his pain even though he kept his back to her as he set the infant seat down and unstrapped the baby. The lion king could entertain governors and run city councils, restaurants, and half the town, but he was terrified of revealing his feelings. Maya shook her head in amazement at this contradiction. Must be a Southern thing—real men don't cry.
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she admitted tearily.
He turned in alarm at the sob in her voice, and she hastily wiped her eyes with her sleeve. At his expression of panic, Maya managed a trembling smile. She remembered that look. She'd seen it when she'd told him the baby was coming. Tenderness and longing and an odd feeling of connection welled inside her as she resisted the urge to stroke his clenched jaw. He'd probably run if she did.
Carefully, she took Alexa from his arms and cuddled her to hide any further outbreak of tears. She didn't think Axell could handle a sobbing woman right now. "Thank you for letting me use the cradle," she whispered. "I've dreamed of having one for her. It's the nicest thing you could have done—except for delivering Alexa," she amended.
Looking a little more sure of himself, Axell nodded. "It was sitting in the attic, going to waste. I'll go get your suitcase. Selene packed up some of your things from the apartment. I just put the boxes in the closet. You'll have to arrange them."
He walked out without any further explanation.
She really would have to learn to argue instead of going all soppy sentimental if she wanted to survive in a partnership with a man like that. But for right now, Axell's decision-making was such a relief, she simply couldn't offer any objections. She hadn't realized how tired she was. Taking care of Alexa in that run-down attic at the school would be hell, especially with dozens of noisy children below. She hoped the substitute teacher they'd hired was working out.
Gently laying Alexa in the cradle and rocking it, Maya did what she did best—swam with the flow. She'd analyze Axell's odd behavior later, when she was stronger.
* * *
"Does she sleep all the time?" Matty asked in disgust as he entered the bedroom to give Maya a good-bye kiss before school. Last night, he'd refused to sleep in the room Axell offered him but had agreed to a fold-up floor mattress beside Maya's bed. This morning, he was all brash male arrogance again. She was relieved he wasn't retreating into the troubled child she'd found when she'd first arrived.
"Only when she isn't crying," Maya teased. "You grew out of it."
Matty grimaced and gave her a hug. Constance remained standing, fascinated, beside the cradle.
"She's so tiny. I didn't know babies were so tiny. She looks just like my doll."
"She won't when she starts crying and spitting up on you, or smiling and pulling your hair. I'll teach you to hold her when you get home, all right?"
Constance looked awed and