Page 5 of Daddy's Unexpected Gift

It wasn’t appropriate, as she would have phrased it. I had been fourteen and struggling, like all teenagers stuck between being an adult and still wanting to be a kid. Dad would have said something a little harsher. Something like, ‘Real men don’t take care of babies, that’s women’s work. You aren’t a woman, are you?’ They were very traditional in their ways. Something my dear Argene had railed against. Unfortunately, that had included going against me as well.

This sleeping baby on the floor was all I had left of Argene. There was some kind of symbolism with Georgie asleep in her misery on the floor and me looking down on her, uncertain of how to proceed. That summed up my relationship with Argene pretty well, uncertain how to proceed.

The intercom buzzed. Normally, I would ignore it, but my gut was already clenching with nerves waiting for someone to come and figure out what I was supposed to do with this child.

“The concierge said the woman from the agency is here. She is coming up directly,” Wayne announced.

I headed toward the elevator. It pinged open, and a teenager stood there looking amazed and confused all at once.

“Mr. Alexander?” she asked Wayne.

I snorted. I stood up, lifting my glass toward her. “That’s me. Sterling. You want a drink?”

She looked at me, a sneer across her pretty face. Her gaze then shifted to Wayne, back to me, and finally, to the sleeping baby on the floor.

She rushed from the elevator, unceremoniously dumped the armful of file folders on the nearest side table, and rushed to the baby, landing on her knees before putting her face right in front of Georgie’s.

“She’s asleep?” The woman twisted and looked back at where Wayne and I stood.

“Yes. You could have simply asked.”

She stood and brushed the front of her skirt. I pretended that I didn’t notice, or that I hadn’t been staring at her curvaceous ass when she was on the floor.

“Why is she on the floor and not in a crib?” she snapped.

I let out a sharp breath. “She’s on the floor because she passed out from crying. We’ve had a difficult morning. I did not want to disturb her. There is no crib.”

“And how much vodka is in your Bloody Mary?” There was no dodging the judgmental tone in her voice. Maybe she was older than I first thought.

Lifting one eyebrow, I twisted to look at Wayne.

“None, Miss.”

“What?” we both asked at the same time.

“None. I made it with non-alcoholic vodka. I figured with this morning’s visit, it would be prudent,” Wayne said.

Part of me was pissed I hadn’t noticed vodka missing from the drink, and part of me was astonished at how this man had my back in little ways.

“Show me,” the agency lady snapped.

Wayne tipped his head and led the way to the kitchen. “Mr. Sterling keeps a well-stocked bar,” Wayne started.

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” she retorted.

“That included provisions for his acquaintances who choose not to imbibe. When he is in training, Mr. Sterling also refrains from alcoholic beverages, though he still enjoys cocktails.”

Once in the kitchen, he showed off the bottle of zero proof spirits.

“I have extra bacon. Would you care for me to make you one?” Wayne offered.

She glanced from the drink I still carried to the bottle and then smiled at Wayne. “Since I don’t smell any coffee, if it's not a terrible bother, yes, please.”

She turned to me, and the smile that illuminated her face immediately dropped away. “My apologies for jumping to a conclusion without having all of the facts, Mr. Alexander.”

“Please, call me Sterling.” I extended my arm, indicating we should return to the living room. I took a seat and indicated that she should as well.

She gathered her file folders back into her arms and perched on the sofa. The woman needed a tote bag if she was planning on hauling a file cabinet’s worth of documents around.

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