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  One side of his mouth curved. “Can you stay awake for a whole movie?”

  “How about a TV show?” she amended. “Not that you have to stay. I guess with Flynn asleep there’s no reason...”

  “I’d love to stay.” Charles crossed the room to her, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear with one finger. “Would you believe in all my travels to the States, I’ve never watched American television other than in an airport waiting area?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Because you normally have way more exciting things to do.”

  “Nothing excites me more than you, Alice.” His voice was pitched low and that familiar melting sensation started in her belly. His head moved closer, just inches, but Alice felt his breath tease her cheek. She waited for the touch of his mouth on hers, but instead he straightened. “Well, then,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s on the programming menu tonight?”

  “Reality TV or crime dramas.” She forced herself to take a step back so she wouldn’t be tempted to plaster herself to the front of him.

  “You’re not planning to subject me to any type of housewives?”

  She laughed and they moved toward the overstuffed couch in her family room. “How do you feel about surviving the Alaskan wilderness?”

  “Better to watch than experience it firsthand.”

  She turned on the lamp that sat on the end table next to the sofa, then grabbed the remote. “Let your introduction to the other side of American culture begin.”

  * * *

  Charles had to admit he found the program about life on the frozen Alaska tundra fascinating. But it wasn’t half as riveting as the beautiful woman curled up next to him. Alice had fallen asleep before the first commercial break, but Charles hadn’t woken her.

  He knew if he did, she’d be embarrassed and apologetic and most likely make him leave. The last thing he wanted was to return to his luxurious hotel room. In truth, the only thing he wanted was to stay in this tiny, simple apartment with Alice tucked in the crook of his arm. For all the years he’d spent partying and traveling, his old lifestyle held no appeal now.

  He felt useful with Alice, needed in a way that filled his soul. It had always seemed like a sign of weakness that even in a crowd of fun, fancy people he could feel so alone. But now he understood it was the connection to another person he’d been missing. The motivation to be something more than anyone expected.

  The monitor that sat on the coffee table crackled and Flynn gave a small cry. Alice stirred, made a sweet, snuffling noise, then snuggled closer to him. As gently as he could, Charles turned down the volume on the monitor and rearranged Alice so her head was on a pillow instead of his shoulder.

  Nerves danced across his skin as he quietly walked into the baby’s bedroom and flipped on the low-wattage lamp on the dresser. It was ridiculous to be nervous at the thought of going in alone to his son, but until now all his interactions with Flynn had been under Alice’s watchful eye. That’s how Charles had wanted it. The easy way. A week of being a father and he could already feel himself falling into the pattern of popping in when it suited him, armed with toys or goodies, but disappearing again if there was real parenting work to be done.

  It made sense to leave that to Alice. She was far more comfortable in her role as mother than he feared he’d ever be as a dad.

  But he wanted to try.

  He approached the crib as if Flynn might pop up, jack-in-the-box style, at any second. Another silly thought, since the baby couldn’t even sit up on his own yet. As Charles peered over the crib railing, Flynn lay on his back, staring up at him even as he continued to cry.

  “What’s wrong, little man?” Charles reached out a hand and placed it on the baby’s rounded belly. Flynn took a few shuddered gulps of air and opened his mouth, seemingly poised to let out a true wail. Not wanting to wake Alice, Charles gathered the boy into his arms and started bouncing. The baby’s cry cut off and he reached out, poking his fingers at Charles’s face.

  “See now,” Charles crooned. “Everything’s fine. Did you have a bad dream or—” He broke off as the smell of something rotten hit his nose. It was putrid and rank, making Charles want to gag. Flynn smiled, then squirmed in his arms. Charles could imagine whatever it was in that diaper being ground into the baby’s soft bottom. Even he knew that wasn’t good.

  He’d never come close to changing a diaper. Not for his niece or his nephews. Hell, nappies were as foreign to him as braiding hair. He glanced at the door to the family room and thought about fetching Alice. As with most things related to Flynn, dirty diapers were her area of expertise.

  So much for Charles’s valiant effort at parenting through thick and thin. He’d meant “thick” in a hypothetical way, not scraping a baby’s bottom.

  Then he looked again at Flynn blinking up at him, lashes wet with glistening tears. The boy shoved his fist in his mouth and loudly sucked, observing Charles with a thoughtful stare as if measuring his worth as a father.

  Charles did not want to be found lacking.

  “We can manage this,” he said out loud—to himself as much as Flynn. The changing table was situated next to the crib and seemed equipped to handle a veritable army of baby bums. A stack of diapers were arranged in a basket on the shelf under the changing pad, along with a container of wipes, several tubes of lotion and cream, and a toy that looked like a psychedelic bumblebee.

  He lay Flynn on his back on the pad and connected the straps that hung on either side across the baby’s belly. “First things first,” Charles whispered, and handed him the bee to play with. Next he grabbed the wipes and a diaper, then began unsnapping the footed pajamas the baby wore. As soon as Charles opened the front of the sleeper, another wave of nasty nappy stench hit him. He realized he probably should have turned on the overhead light so he could actually see what he was doing. At the same time, he didn’t really want to see in too much detail.

  “You must be a chip off the old block,” he told Flynn, “because you’ve certainly made a royal mess.” Although the room was cool, Charles felt sweat drip down the side of his face. He wiped it on his shoulder, then took a deep breath, holding it as he undid the diaper and opened it.

  “Bloody hell.” He blinked, cringed and began grabbing handfuls of wipes to clean up the mess. Flynn patiently gummed his toy and then kicked his legs.

  “Stop,” Charles yelled, before he thought better of it. Flynn’s rosebud mouth turned down in a pout. “Sorry, chap,” Charles said, forcing his voice to be cheerful. “But you don’t want to step in it when we’ve almost got you cleaned up.”

  Unfortunately, the almost seemed to last far longer than it should. Charles wiped and wiped but couldn’t seem to remove all the mess. “How does your mum do this every day?” he asked the boy.

  “Believe it or not, it gets easier with practice.”

  Charles glanced behind him to see Alice coming through the door.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” he said.

  “You didn’t.” She nudged him to the side. “Mind if I take over?”

  “Please,” he muttered. “I’m utter rot with nappies.”

  “You’re trying,” she said, and gave him a sleepy smile. “I woke up and the monitor wasn’t on, so I came looking for the two of you.”

  “Flynn had a postdinner explosion.”

  “He’s not crying.” Alice deftly finished the job of cleaning the baby and putting on a new diaper. She placed the dirty one and all the wipes into a garbage can next to the changing table. The diaper pail whirred when she snapped the lid shut.

  “I hope that thing’s rated for hazardous materials,” Charles commented.

  “I’ve heard it gets worse when he starts solid foods.” She rearranged the sleeper, pried the toy out of Flynn’s hands and picked him up off the pad. “Did you give your daddy a big mess to handle?” she cooed to the baby, snuggling him close.

  Daddy. Charles preened at the word. Okay, maybe he hadn’t handled the diaper change like a pro,
but he tried his best. As a daddy would.

  “Do you want to put him down again?” she asked, smiling up at Charles.

  “Sure.” He took the baby from her, Flynn burrowing against his chest. “Your mum needs a break, little man. How about you stay asleep until morning?”

  Flynn didn’t answer, but he also wasn’t crying in protest, which Charles took as a win. He leaned over the crib and placed him on the sheet. The baby kicked and swatted at the air, but almost immediately his eyes drifted shut. “Good night, little one,” Charles whispered.

  Alice was watching them from where she stood near the dresser. She flipped off the light and Charles followed her to the kitchen sink.

  “You did good in there,” she said as she turned on the faucet and handed him the soap.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he said with a small shudder.

  “Like you said, he’s an impressive lad.”

  Charles laughed at the way she mimicked his accent and they finished washing hands in a companionable silence.

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she said as she led him back into the family room. “This must be the most boring night you’ve had in years.”

  “Hardly,” he said, tapping one finger to the tip of her nose. “Boring is being stuffed into an uncomfortable monkey suit in a room full of pompous strangers, counting the minutes until you can make a polite exit.”

  “Right.” Alice made a face. “Sipping expensive champagne and surrounded by beautiful women. You’re not fooling me, Charles.”

  “Sincerity isn’t one of my best traits,” he admitted, “but I mean every word of it. I can think of no place I’d rather be than here with you and our baby.”

  She stilled at his final words. Our baby. He wondered if she regretted inviting him into her life. There was no doubt she wanted him to have a relationship with Flynn, but Alice was the first woman in his life he couldn’t seem to read. The only woman who’d ever really mattered romantically.

  He forced himself to take a step away from her, to give her the space he guessed she needed. “I should let you get to bed, too.”

  Something in her hazel eyes flashed. “Because I’m a tired wreck?”

  He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Because I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

  She stared at him for another minute, then tugged her bottom lip into her mouth. Desire shot through him like a cannon and he took another step toward the door. He was about to turn and grab the handle when Alice closed the distance between them and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

  So much for being a gentleman.

  Chapter Nine

  Alice didn’t want Charles to be a gentleman, and she wasn’t about to let him leave without kissing him. She knew it was reckless, but she couldn’t manage one more second without being close to him again.

  The need had been building inside her all night, despite her exhaustion. Who could blame her? Charles was a fantasy for women around the world. But it was watching him fumble in the dim light of Flynn’s nursery that had pushed her over the edge. There was nothing more important to her than her son, and for Charles to be making an effort to truly support her as a father was about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen—even if he had no idea what he was doing.

  He tasted as amazing as she remembered, spicy, refined and just a touch exotic. He could wear American clothes all day long, but he was British upper class to his core. More importantly, he was a man.

  Right now he was hers.

  He gathered her into his arms and framed her face with his hands. His kisses were gentle and slow, like he was savoring her. Although inexperienced, Alice had always thought of a kiss as a prelude to what came after. But Charles pressed his mouth to hers like this was the main event. He was in no hurry to race to the next stop. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, coaxing them open, and she felt her knees give way. Talk about melting.

  Without breaking the kiss, Charles turned, pressing Alice’s back to the door as he deepened the kiss. His fingers trailed through her hair and as his kisses grew hotter and more demanding, Alice heard herself moan. That small sound seemed to spur him on and he circled her hips with his hands, pulling her hard against him.

  “Charles,” she whispered, her body tingling from head to toe, “I want...” She didn’t quite know how to ask for what she wanted from him, but in the end it didn’t matter.

  Her voice seemed to yank him out of the moment. He pushed away from her, leaving Alice sagging against the door, her breath coming out in strangled gasps.

  “I’m sorry, Alice,” he said, his own voice strained.

  “Don’t—”

  He held up a hand. “That shouldn’t have happened. I can’t...” He ran a hand through his hair, met her gaze with a crooked smile. “You’re a lovely girl, but we can’t go there.” His tone had gentled, and Alice couldn’t help but think she wasn’t the first woman to be brushed off with that soothing accent.

  “Why?”

  He blinked at her direct question, and even Alice was surprised at her own bluntness. Apparently sexual frustration made her bold.

  “Well...” His blue eyes roamed over her. “It would complicate things between us.”

  Alice laughed, pressing the back of her hand to her kiss-swollen lips. “Because they’re so simple now?”

  His smile faltered. “Sleeping together would muddy the waters. I need to... We need to keep our focus on the baby.”

  Alice understood the sentiment, but it felt like a rejection nonetheless. Maybe Charles hadn’t enjoyed kissing her the way she had him. Her desire felt one-sided, a little pathetic and a whole lot embarrassing.

  She grabbed for the handle of the door, stepping back as it opened. “I understand,” she whispered. “Good night, Charles.”

  “Alice—”

  “Good night,” she said again, more firmly. She forced herself to meet his gaze, to prove to him she wasn’t breaking apart inside.

  He lifted his hand but she gave a sharp shake of her head. “Don’t. Please.”

  He looked as miserable as she felt. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She wanted to tell him no, to cut Charles out of her life for good. But he was the father of her son, and she would do right by Flynn no matter what.

  “Tomorrow,” she agreed, and shut the door behind him.

  * * *

  But Charles didn’t call the next day. Instead he showed up for her late-morning meeting to finalize dates on the new campaign. Looking at him in his tailored suit and crisp white dress shirt, his hair still damp at the ends, made Alice’s lungs stop working for a second. She tapped her chest with her knuckles, reminding her body to do its job and her lungs to keep pumping air in and out.

  He was attentive and charming to all the women from the research and marketing departments in the conference room. More importantly, he was respectful of Alice and her ideas about It’s Texas to Me. It was difficult to hold on to her anger in the face of his overt kindness. It was almost as if he was trying to make up for what he wouldn’t give her last night. Even if he wasn’t attracted to her, she knew Charles genuinely cared for her as Flynn’s mother. Somehow that would have to be enough.

  Of course, it wouldn’t be easy to spend the rest of her life comparing herself to the type of woman who would interest Charles. He was seated next to her boss. Amanda, flipping her shiny blond hair and decked out in a bright red power suit that showed off her curvy figure, fawned over him and made a show of inviting him to lunch after the meeting. Alice tried not to pay attention until she realized Charles had declined Amanda’s offer and was turning to her.

  “We’re still on for lunch?” he asked.

  Alice felt her mouth drop open and quickly snapped it shut.

  “Remember, we’d planned to discuss my ideas for tweaking the campaign to make it appropriate for several of the countries involved with the European Tourism Board, and how I could help with my contacts.”

&
nbsp; “Sure,” Alice stammered, and glanced at her boss, who was glaring at her from the far end of the table. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course she doesn’t,” Charles said, before Amanda could answer. He flashed her a brilliant smile and took Amanda’s hand, brushing the barest kiss across her knuckles. “You understand, love?”

  “Of course,” Amanda agreed with a giggle. Alice rolled her eyes. Cue the Charles Effect.

  Meredith leaned close to Alice’s ear as she stood from the table. “He wants you bad.”

  “We have a child together,” Alice whispered. “That’s all there is between us.”

  Meredith gave her a funny look but didn’t argue.

  Alice grabbed her purse from her cubicle and went to find Charles. He was waiting for her in the lobby, the tourism board’s longtime receptionist watching him as he stared out the window.

  “The phones are ringing,” Alice said, tapping on the desk as she walked by.

  The receptionist jumped, then threw Alice a cagey smile. “How anyone in England gets work done when that man is around is beyond me.”

  He turned as Alice approached and she had to agree with the other woman’s assessment.

  Charles smiled, almost tentatively, and took a step toward her. “About last night,” he began, but Alice shook her head.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, and especially not here.” She glanced over her shoulder to where two other women from the office had gathered at the receptionist’s desk. Charles was like some rare object on display—the elusive British bachelor. Right now, she wasn’t in the mood to entertain a group of prying eyes. “Let’s go.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him out the door.

  The noonday sun was almost violently bright, and she shoved her sunglasses onto her nose. “What are you doing showing up at my office again?” She started down the busy sidewalk, releasing Charles as they jostled through the crowd. But when she turned to look at him, he was gone, only to pop up again on her other side.

  At her questioning gaze, he shrugged. “A gentleman always walks on the street side when with a lady.”