The Ten-Day Baby Takeover

“Why not go right into design?”

She plucked a washcloth from the bathroom vanity and wiped her hands. “Nannying was a detour. I grew up helping out with my siblings, so it was a natural thing to care for children. And Boston is not cheap. Nannying pays well. It just worked.”

“If you liked it that much and it paid well, how does that stop working?”

She looked down at the floor, her golden hair falling down around her face. “I burned out. Badly. Let’s put it that way.”

That didn’t make sense. She didn’t seem at all burned out on caring for Oliver. If anything, she had superhuman stamina and patience when it came to it. “And the rest? Surely there’s a special guy in your life.”

“There is.” Her face lit up so brightly that it was as if someone had sucker punched him. So much for seduction. There was another man.

“His name is Oliver,” she continued. “He’s so sweet. He doesn’t talk much. Drools a fair amount. Still learning how to walk. Exactly like I like my men.”

He laughed and shook his head. She was ridiculously charming and clever, probably why he had such a strong reaction to the idea of her with a boyfriend.

She flipped her hair back and grinned at Oliver. “But seriously, the right guy hasn’t walked into my life and I’m not about to wait. I’m too busy trying to build my business to think about stuff like that. Romance is not on my radar right now.”

No wonder he’d been feeling as though he and Sarah might be kindred spirits, even though they came from different worlds. She wasn’t looking for love. And neither was he. And with only ten days together, that might be perfect.

* * *

Sarah was ready to claim victory over bath time—Oliver was clean and she hadn’t been caught staring at Aiden. It was a miracle since she’d been doing exactly that, sneaking peeks at his chest, broad and firm with the most perfect patch of dark hair in the center. Then there were his glorious shoulders and his sculpted biceps. She’d also spent a fair amount of time studying the tattoo on the inside of his forearm—a dark and intriguing pattern, impossible to decipher.

She bopped Oliver on the nose with the tip of her finger. “Hey, mister. It’s time for somebody to get out of the bath and get into pj’s.”

Aiden furrowed his brow. “Sarah’s no fun,” he said to Oliver. “I don’t know about you, but I’m good for at least another fifteen minutes.”

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