Hard to Hold (4 page)

She retrieved her luggage, turned her back, and headed for the bedroom. He was still furious, but fully aware that he didn't have the luxury of expressing that emotion. Forcing himself to stay calm, he remembered that this would all be over once he located Desiree. He just had to keep his cool until that happened.

And in the meantime, Isabella would take care of Cinnamon.

Fuck that spoonful of sugar shit.

The cellphone finally timed out, and Jessica couldn't help the grin that spread over her face as she inadvertently eavesdropped on Logan's conversation.

Logan had just been expertly put into his place by his new nanny. She would've killed to see his expression; in her opinion, he had been too damn spoiled all his life by the girls he dated, his female fans, even their mother.

But it was crystal clear in the exchange she'd overheard that Isabella was no pushover.

And, Jessica thought, she was absolutely right. She knew he still didn't believe Cinnamon was his, but even without a DNA test, she highly doubted that the mother would've given him the baby unless she was sure. At some point Logan would need to accept that the child was his and step up.

And now, he had no choice.

So she was employed again.

Isabella glanced around her room, surprised to see that it was a good size and well furnished with a queen-size bed, dresser, and a comfortable chair.

She put away her clothing, pleased to find that all of the drawers were open and available for her use. That wasn't always the case. More than once she'd been given little more than a few feet in a closet packed with another woman's belongings.

At the bottom of her bag were her pictures. Isabella retrieved them one at a time and placed them around the room. A few were babies, two were toddlers, and six were schoolchildren.

Her kids.

They were just some of the children she had taken care of over the years. A couple of the photos she'd taken herself, while others were sent by grateful parents. Thoughtfully, her gaze met the stare of a little Asian girl smiling back at her, and then she glanced at one of the toddlers, a little boy she'd taken care of last summer.

The circumstances were all different. Some of the mothers were high-powered career women who learned they couldn't do it all.

Others could afford to stay with their offspring but chose not to. She didn't judge; it was obvious that not everyone was cut out to do what came naturally to her.

Even though infants were her specialty, she'd done it all. She'd helped teenagers through their first crush, toddlers through the terrible twos. More than one kindergartener had gotten a good start with her encouragement, while she ran interference for a schoolboy with dyslexia.

But it was the babies that got to her, and she knew why. Stricken with the pain of endometriosis at the age of sixteen, she'd gone to a doctor and learned her fallopian tubes had been damaged.

Worse, after a series of tests, the gynecologist hadadmitted it was highly unlikely she'd ever have children of her own. It wasn't hopeless; after all, new technologies were developing every day…Maybe by the time she tried to conceive, there would be an answer.

It was a tough message for a teenager to absorb, and she'd gone through a major depression. With the help of a therapist, Isabella went back to school, graduated, got her certifications, and became a nanny. If she couldn't have a baby of her own, at least she'd get to care for them.

And it worked. She loved walking the floor of the nursery at night, helping a fretful infant find peace. Bathing a baby filled her with joy, and the sweet scent of talcum powder and ointment was more appealing to her than designer perfume.

Yet it broke her heart when it was time to leave, and all she had to keep were the memories. Change was inevitable; families moved, children grew up, or the agency needed her for a special case.

And that's why she'd learned it was so vitally important to engage the parents, to make sure that when she was gone, the children would be well cared for.

Frowning, she thought of the soccer player in the next room. It was clear to her that Logan thought he would turn the baby over to her, and that would be that. This wasn't her first rodeo, and she thought it best to clear the air immediately.

She could tell he was pissed off but smart enough to keep his mouth shut. So he was not only drop-dead handsome, but he had a brain, a combination that always appealed to her. And she wouldn't have been a female if she hadn't noticed his rock-hard biceps, flat belly, and perfectly round butt.

Worse, he had the most compelling crystal blue eyes she'd ever seen. They were framed with black lashes, so thick a Maybelline model would've been jealous. They were almost hypnotic, and she was certain that more than one female got lost in that gaze.

But she was damned if she would be one of them, even though she was aware of the way he'd looked at her and the sexual chemistry that sparked between them. At least he'd gone out of his way to hide his attraction to her; she'd give him props for that.

So he was not only handsome but sexy as hell. Duly noted. And she hadn't been with a man in over a year. But what was important here was Cinnamon, the little baby in the next room, and she could certainly control her own impulses.

That brought her back to the matter at hand. She had a mission here. Logan Hart would learn to be a father.

Whether he liked it or not.

Logan awoke to the sound of the alarm clock. Turning it off, he lay back on his pillow, wondering what was different.

Silence.

Unlike the previous night, he hadn't been awakened at three a.m. with the sounds of a wailing baby. As the fog cleared, he wondered what had happened. Was the nanny still there? Did she get up in the middle of the night and take care of the baby?

It seemed impossible to imagine after the weekend, when he'd found himself so exhausted that he couldn't put two fucking thoughts together. Yet there was no other explanation, and as he put his hands behind his head for a few more minutes of rest, he couldn't help the shit-eating grin that came to his face.

Peace
.

Isabella was worth the thirty grand he'd shelled out. Probably more. He was thankful now that Jessica had furnished her room with good-quality linens and towels. He wondered if she liked them and pictured her coming back to bed after feeding Cinnamon wearing some little nightie as she slid beneath the new sheets.

She was that type; somehow, he knew it for sure. There was something glamorous about her that made him think she liked the finer things in life. Isabella might be no-nonsense and uptight in her baby-friendly workout clothes, but he had no doubt she indulged where she could.

That meant lacy lingerie and satin thongs.

He suddenly became aware that he had a hard-on. Hell. Envisioning Isabella in her sleepwear was the last thing he needed to be doing. He needed to control this shit and fast, before something happened that they both regretted.

Fully resolved, he got out of bed, planning to check out the address Desiree had included on the legal documents she'd left. He'd already done some Internet searches to see if she had a Facebook page or a Twitter account, but they yielded nothing. It seemed impossible that she hadn't left a digital trace somewhere, but that seemed to be the case.

Finding Desiree was the priority. He had a training session this morning, and a drill practice that night. The Hurricanes would be leaving in a couple of days for Florida, so the sooner he located her, the better.

But he needed coffee. Getting out of bed, he made his way toward the kitchen, and as he passed the nursery door, he saw it was open a crack. He couldn't resist the opportunity to look inside.

Isabella was seated in the rocker, feeding the baby a bottle.

The scene was so beautiful that Logan was speechless. Isabella cradled the baby and crooned to her softly. Cinnamon smiled up at her in utter rapture from her pale pink blanket, as if all in the world was wonderful.

His eyes cut back to the nanny. She was wearing something fluffy and white—a terry cloth robe? Sunshine spilled over the floor, and a music box tinkled a Disney song.

Logan shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? It was just the nanny he had hired taking care of the baby who had been dumped on him.

So why did his damn throat feel tight?

He must have made a sound, for just then Isabella looked up and her eyes met his. Her expression was inscrutable, and then her gaze dropped and widened. Logan had forgotten she was there and was wearing what he normally slept in: pajama bottoms.

She took in his bare chest and half-naked torso, and for the briefest moment, she seemed flustered and unsure of herself.

Like a woman he was going to seduce.

Before he could internalize that, the look was gone, replaced by an expression of disapproval as she got up with the baby.

He'd forgotten what a tight-ass she could be.

Little Cinnamon was drifting off to sleep. Her head fell away from the bottle, and she sighed, one arm outstretched, settling down in the nanny's arms. But Isabella hoisted her up, draping a diaper over her shoulder, and patted her back until she got the burp.

Damn. She is like a fucking drill sergeant.

Only then did she lower the baby into the bassinet, placing a blanket over her. Closing the door softly behind her, she joined him in the hallway.

“What are you doing here?”
She actually poked him!
Those green eyes flashed. “I suggest you discover what a bathrobe is.”

“I know what it is.” He grinned lazily. “Why? A little bare skin bothers you?” When her eyes narrowed, he headed her off. “Okay, I get it. I'm used to living alone and not worrying about what I'm wearing. If it bothers you that much, I'll grab a shirt.”

“Do that.”

Stifling another smirk, he headed down the hallway and looked over his shoulder. “By the way, was she up last night? I didn't hear a damned thing.”

“Yes, but just once. I plan to get her on a schedule as soon as possible. And if you don't mind, can you please watch your language?”

“Fuckin' A.” No one told him how to talk in his own house.

She headed into the kitchen, her shoulders squared.
What the fuck! This woman was worse than a nun!
He was glad to be away from her, and once in the shower, he let the hot water soothe the bubbling flame of anger inside of him. She was his employee, just there to take care of the baby until he got out of this damn mess. He couldn't afford to get too pissed.

Toweling off, he dressed in his practice jersey and shorts, intending to take the hell off as fast as possible. But when he returned to the hall, he smelled coffee, and she had the Keurig out and two cups waiting beside it.

A peace offering?
“Hey, thanks. But you don't need to—”

“I prefer a French press. If you don't have one or want to get one, I'll bring my own.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

He didn't tell her that he normally picked up a cup at Starbucks.

But she wasn't done yet.

“I've started a list,” she said, handing him a cup of coffee and pointing to a sheet of paper on the counter. “We are going to have to purchase quite a few things. This baby has next to nothing. She will need clothes, receiving blankets, diapers, bibs…”

“Order whatever you want,” he said and waved a hand dismissively. “I think you said you were aware of the circumstances. My sister picked up the necessities, so I agree she probably needs some stuff.”

“Vaporizer, medications, thermometer…have you been giving her vitamins? And what about her shots?” She glanced up from her list.

Logan looked at her for a long moment, and then got up and fetched the bag Desiree had given him. He turned it upside down in front of her, and let everything fall onto the table.

“This is what her mother left.”

The nanny inspected the few articles of clothing, binky, blankets, and diapers. She found the instructions and made a note of the physician's phone number as well as the vaccination schedule. When her eyes lifted once more, Logan swore he saw a shred of sympathy in her gaze.

“That's it?”

“That's it,” he confirmed. “Listen, I hardly knew this woman, but I am sure this is all some stunt to name me as the father and get me to pay up or something. She's probably going to show up in a couple of days, make her demands, and take off with the baby. But in the meantime, she seems like a nice kid, and I know she needs stuff. So yeah, get whatever. I have an Amazon Prime account. The log-in info is already in the computer.”

“Cinnamon,” Isabella said firmly. “Her name is Cinnamon.”

“Right.”
Fuck off.
He was done with this conversation. “Listen, I've got to go. Anything else?”

Again he got that look, like she was seeing right through him. “There are some things that can't wait. How about I pick them up, and you can reimburse me?”

“Fine,” he said, eager to be back to his real life. “Better yet, here is my credit card. Have at it.”

She eyed the piece of plastic before picking it up and putting it into her bag. “I also need to know the travel plans, so I can make our arrangements.”

He was halfway out the door, but that stopped him, and he turned, looking at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Accommodations, schedule, that sort of thing. For when you go on the road,” she explained as if he was a moron.

“But…you and the baby will stay here.”

“Of course not,” Isabella said firmly. “I already told you I am not this child's parent, you are. If you are traveling, your daughter is going with you. And that means I'm coming, too.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Logan glared at her, slamming the door and turning to confront her. “You don't bring a baby on a road trip!”

“And why not?” Isabella folded her arms calmly.

“She belongs here! In her nursery! Where it's quiet.” He lowered his voice, aware that he had been shouting, and tried to sound reasonable. “A soccer stadium is full of crazy fans, noise, and commotion. Don't you think she would be much better off in a peaceful environment?”

“She belongs with her father,” she continued in the same manner.

“This is ridiculous,” he said, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of agitation.

She wanted to come on the road with him, and bring the baby!

What the hell was she thinking?

“No, it isn't. Other athletes sometimes bring their wives and kids when the team travels. You can, too. I'm not talking about flying; airfare can get expensive. But when you are playing New York, Washington, we will come. Even if it's only an hour in the morning, it's an opportunity for the two of you to bond. You've already missed out on her first couple of months. I don't intend for you to miss anything else.”

She had fucking balls. Brass ones. Logan saw the determination in the lift of her chin and the slight cock of her head as she returned his stare. And those lips he'd noticed before? Now he longed to take her in his arms, kiss her until she stopped talking. Strip off that robe and make her crazy with his hands and mouth, and take all that passion and put it to much better use.

He knew that wasn't an option. But damn if her defiance wasn't as sexy as hell.

But then he reminded himself that this wasn't forever. He might even find Desiree today, so there was no sense wasting time arguing, no matter how much she made his blood boil.

No matter how fuckable she was…

“Fine,” he answered after a long moment. “You want to come on the road? It's not nearly as glamorous as you think. I'll have our assistant provide you the details and assist with the arrangements.”

He slammed the door behind him.

The situation was impossible.

Logan came to that conclusion pretty quickly after his discussion with the nanny that morning.

She was too damned beautiful, and too damned bossy. Stubborn. And opinionated.

The combination was sexy as hell.

And that meant nothing but trouble. How the hell did he wind up with a Scarlett Johansson look-alike for a nanny? Weren't they supposed to be those starched British types? Not a fucking knockout who confronted him at every turn.

He had to get rid of her. Now. Syncing his cellphone to his car, he speed-dialed the agency and recognized Patty's voice as she answered the call.

“Hello, Logan,” she said. “How are things going?”

“Not so good,” he said. “The nanny you sent isn't working for me. I was wondering if anyone else is available?”

“Not like Isabella,” Patty said firmly. “I was really lucky to get her onboard. It's hard to find someone with her certifications and level of experience with infants, and I think you're going to want that. After all, you are a single father, and the baby is only a few months old. You need someone who knows what she's doing.”

He knew she was right, much as he hated to admit it. “This has nothing to do with her skills,” he said truthfully. “It's just…a personality clash.”

And a clash every other fucking way possible.

“Well, I suggest you try to get along. Why don't you give it a little time and get to know each other better? I think you'll understand that she has reasons for the way she does things, and the baby will benefit in the long run.”

The last thing he needed was to get to know Isabella any more than he already did. But he could read between the lines. “I guess I don't have much choice.”

“Not now. Maybe in a few months if you still feel the same way?”

He clicked off the phone and just sat in the parking lot, gazing at the windows of his condominium, his frustration settling into the muscles of his jaw.

Patty was right about one thing: Isabella was good for the baby. There was no question about that.

It was the chemistry simmering between them that was the problem. That and her bossiness; it was her way or the goddamn highway. She was a royal pain in his ass, one he was temporarily stuck with, like it or not.

But there was one thing he could do. Firing up the GPS on his phone, he typed in Desiree's address. He would find the baby's mother and get this shitstorm behind him.

Today.

The baby started to cry as Logan departed.

Isabella wasn't surprised; doors slamming and babies sleeping didn't naturally go together. But she had gotten what she wanted and felt it was a small price to pay. Logan had to form a bond with his daughter, and there was only one way to do that: he had to spend time with her, not just as a drop-in rock star, but as a real parent.

Entering the nursery, she looked in the bassinet and found the baby's binky. “There, there.” Soothing Cinnamon, she settled her down and then left the room, firmly closing the door behind her. It wasn't a good idea to fuss with infants off schedule; it just made the rest of the day miserable.

Sure enough, a few minutes later there was silence. As she returned to her list making, her thoughts went back to Logan.

He was turning out to be an interesting study. She smiled as she thought of his blustering; he was mad as hell and not used to being thwarted. But the guy needed a wakeup call. If he thought the mother was going to show up anytime soon and take the baby back, he was delusional. He had to get out of denial and understand this was real. He had a baby, and that meant his life was going to change drastically.

Yet he
was
generous. Silently, she admitted that. He pretty much gave her carte blanche to buy whatever she needed. And his objection about traveling with Cinnamon wasn't around the finances.

It was around a baby he couldn't acknowledge as his own.

She got it. She also knew it was her job to make sure this little girl got the best start in life, and that meant developing a relationship with the one parent who might give a damn about her.

Once Logan accepted Cinnamon as his daughter, her gut told her he would be an amazing father.

And that, for her, was very attractive. Unwillingly, she thought back to him standing outside the nursery, bare-chested and gorgeous, like one of those angel statues in Philly. But there was nothing innocent about that body, with those well-developed biceps, sinfully flat belly, and muscular legs…Her pulse throbbed disturbingly in a way she'd forgotten a long time ago.

Not good
.

Those eyes, coupled with that body, were a sinful combination. No wonder he found himself in this predicament, with a woman unloading his progeny at his doorstep!

But she was no irresponsible female, falling for tall, blond, and hot, under any circumstances. Too much depended on her, and too many people.

Especially the little girl in the next room.

With that thought in mind, she packed Cinnamon's diaper bag. They would head out to the store and stock up on immediate needs. She'd set up an appointment with her pediatrician to ensure that the baby was up-to-date on everything and able to travel.

Because they were going on quite a few trips. Very soon.

The place looked empty. Logan got out of the car, a sense of dread stealing over him as he saw the rain-soaked phone book laying on the steps of the townhouse and the drawn blinds. There was a lock box on the door, and he wondered when she had put the unit up for sale.

Ringing the bell, he waited for a good five minutes before knocking. There wasn't a sound or a motion inside except for the flick of a neighbor's curtain as he stood on the walkway.

Desiree wasn't there. There were no cars in the two designated parking spots, and the step looked like it hadn't been swept in weeks. Taking a walk around the back of the townhouse, he saw that her yard was barren. No patio tables or chairs. No flowers gracing the pavers.

The AC unit was silent, even though it was hot that day. And when he peered inside the French doors, there wasn't a stick of furniture inside. Nothing. Not a lamp or a table.

The place showed every sign of abandonment. His next step would be to check on Zillow, see if a real estate agent had the listing or if the property was in foreclosure. He wouldn't doubt the latter; Desiree obviously wasn't the most responsible person in the world.

As he walked around the easement once more, he wasn't surprised to see the elderly neighbor appear, coffee cup in hand.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I'm looking for the woman who lives here. Her name is Desiree.”

“You mean used to live here. She's gone, along with the baby,” the man said, sipping his coffee with a shrug. “Thought she was getting ready to bolt. Saw a moving van on Wednesday, and a couple of them Realtors taking pictures. Seems like she was planning this for a while.”

Shit.
“Was she alone?”

He shook his head. “There were always a couple of guys sniffing around. The last one seemed a little more regular. Dark-haired man, with a red pickup. You know him?”

“Can't say I do,” Logan said dryly.
Like I would fucking know Desiree's latest hookup.
“You wouldn't happen to have a tag number, would you?”

“No. Should've thought of that. I was a little concerned under the circumstances, with the baby and all,” he explained. “She was having him sleep over, and I didn't feel good about it…If you want to give me your number, I'll call if I see her.”

“Thanks,” he said, jotted it down and handed it to the man, and then started for his car.

“You're not going to find her, you know.”

That stopped him in his tracks. “Why's that?”

“My wife got to know her a little. Helped out with the baby. Cute little thing. Anyway, she said Desiree saw a picture of a guy in the newspaper a few weeks back. Professional soccer player. Admitted that this wasn't working for her, and it was time the father took over. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?” One white brow lifted as his gaze fell on Logan's jersey.

“Nope,” Logan said. “Not a goddamned thing.”