Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“I understand you have a job to do, but I don’t understand you treating me like less than a person based on your own personal opinion.”
Without another word, he escorted me to the elevator, inserted a key, and pressed the large P that would take me to the penthouse. “It opens into the hallway and Mr. Witter’s door is at the other end.”
“Thank you.” Just because he was a presumptuous pompous jerk didn’t mean I had to be.
The elevator ride to the top lasted several minutes, at least that’s what it felt like, or maybe it was just my nerves at starting a new job. Or, more likely, it was this particular job for the mysterious, handsome man who seemingly had a baby dropped into his lap. I decided on my way here that I wouldn’t judge Alex. I didn’t know his circumstances, and as far as I could tell, he cared about my new charge. Nothing else was my business.
The doors slid open into a dimly lit hall that was black and silver just like the downstairs lobby. Step by step, I made my way towards the imposing black door, willing my heart to stop beating like this was a cause for worry. This was a job, an assignment like dozens of others I’d had over the years. There was no cause for alarm. Nothing to worry about.
I repeated those words over and over as I rapped on the door in five sharp knocks and waited.
The door flung open immediately and Mr. Witter appeared with wild, frantic eyes as he reached out and grabbed my wrist, yanking me inside.
“Thank god you’re here,” he growled and then dropped my arm as if he just now realized his faux pas. “Sorry. But I’m glad you’re here.”
“It’s all right. What’s the problem?”
“Which one?” He asked around a snort and scrubbed a hand down his face. It was then I noticed that Mr. Witter didn’t have a shirt on. His chest and back were smooth and perfectly bronzed, like a statue. Covered in muscles and ink, he was a sight to behold as I followed him towards the sound of a baby crying. “This is the problem.” He stepped aside and motioned towards the overstuffed sofa where the little girl laid on her back, naked with her feet kicking in the air.
I should have bitten back the laughter, but it fell free before I could compose myself. Three discarded diapers dotted the sofa, each one more mangled than the previous.
“You’ve never changed a diaper.”
“No.” His answer was simple and plain, no excuses. I appreciated that.
“First, your sofa is far too nice to double as a changing table.” But since it seemed that fatherhood was thrust upon him, I decided to cut him a break. “Do you have more diapers?”
“A few,” he grumbled and handed me one. “They’re tricky. Good luck.”
I smiled at him and then down at the little girl who wore a sweet smile. “Okay, Mr. Witter, at first this seems impossible, but after two or three diaper changes, you’ll see it’s nothing.” To prove my point, I grabbed the baby at her ankles and slid the diaper underneath her, making use of the diaper ointment and baby powder on the coffee table beside me. “Front flap up, left sticker and then right sticker, and there you go!” I lifted the baby in the air, her legs and arms kicking as she cooed sweetly. “Fresh as a daisy.”
“How did you do that?” His green eyes were wide with shock, a look of awe on his face.
“Like I said, it’s easy once you know what you’re doing. You’ll catch on,” I assured him as my gaze raked over his naked torso.
He seemed to realize just now that he was half naked. “She squirmed and nearly rolled off the sofa when I removed the dirty diaper and I didn’t want her to fall.”
I chuckled at his dismay. “That’s why you need a changing table.”
“I don’t know what that is,” he admitted easily, something I noticed that rich and powerful men had a hard time doing. “Make a list of what she needs. Please,” he added belatedly.
I wanted to ask—badly—what in the hell had happened that led to a clear bachelor taking care of a baby, but again, it wasn’t my business. “I’ll do that, and maybe you can do something for me?”
He frowned as he raked one hand, and then the other, through his thick blond hair. “What’s that?”
“Tell me her name. Babies respond better when they have a familiar word to answer to.”
His brows furrowed. “I don’t know. When she arrived, she didn’t have one.” His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink and he shook his head. “It’s complicated, but I guess I have to give her a name?”
I didn’t want to add to his guilt or whatever else he was feeling, so I only nodded. “What did she come with?” It looked as if I would have to dive right into whatever this messy situation was, and it was lucky for Mr. Witter and his little girl that I handled messy like a pro.