Monica rushed in front of him and made him focus on her. “Katie’s not here. You might try her cell phone.” She laid a hand on his arm and tried to push him out of the apartment.
“Tried that.” He easily dodged her hand and picked up a baby bottle. “Have a kid when no one was looking?”
“I babysit sometimes.” Not a lie.
“Don’t nurses make decent money?”
“Yeah.”
“So you babysit for charity?” Doubt laced his gaze and he moved deeper into the room and made an audible sniff.
“Kinda.” She knew if Dean searched hard, he’d find evidence of Katelyn. In fact, a pair of stilettos that defined Katie were carelessly tossed under the coffee table. “You can see that Katie isn’t here so you should look for her somewhere else.”
Dean’s eyes settled on her and she felt the need to fidget. “Why the hurry, Monica?”
“I’m watching my favorite show and you’re becoming a pain in my ass. If I wanted company, I’d have invited you over.”
“Right.” Dean sniffed the air again.
“You sound like a dog. Do you have a cold or something?”
Dean grinned. “Do you know who Tom Ford is?”
Where the hell did that question come from. “Tom who?”
“The designer.”
“Why would I know that?”
“He’s a fashion designer who created a very unique perfume.”
Monica squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I’m not sure what perfume has to do with you sniffing around my apartment like a bloodhound.”
Dean smelled the air again and moved toward the hall, closer to where Savannah was sleeping.
Monica’s heart thudded in her chest. It was as if a house of cards were standing in the direct path of a cat’s swishing tail and she couldn’t get to the cat before it knocked the cards over. She scrambled in front of him again, blocking his path to the hall. “I’ll call Katie myself. Tell her you’re looking for her.”
“Black Orchid. I’d know the scent anywhere.” He was rambling about perfume and moving around her.
She pushed in front of him again.
He smiled, placed his hands on her shoulders, and moved her to the side. “It’s Katie’s perfume. I know because I’ve bought it for her before.” Dean lifted his finger and waved it once in front of her face. “Stay!”
She did. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t stop watching the slow-motion action of him opening the door to Katie’s room.
She heard him draw in a breath and let it out slowly.
A hundred lies formed. I’m babysitting for a friend. I have a roommate that wears Katie’s perfume.
Dean sauntered into the bedroom and peeked into the small bassinet.
His gaze shifted from Savannah who was just opening her eyes to the interior of Katie’s room. The closet space was limited and Katie’s clothes hung on hooks and on the curtain rod. A mountain of shoes took up one corner and another was filled with baby essentials.
“Oh, God!” Katie shrieked behind Monica.
Monica turned to stare at the panicked face of her friend. “I tried to make him leave.”
The only sound in the room was that of the breath escaping the occupants.
A storm brewed under the surface of Katie’s skin. She met Dean’s confused stare and held still.
Her game was up. No explanation large enough would keep him from knowing that she was living with Monica. And why.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Savannah let out a wail and all three of them turned to her.
Katie shoved past Monica and had to step over Dean’s foot to get to the baby.
“It’s OK, baby girl. I’m here,” she cooed. The instant Savannah was in her arms she quieted. Katie flung a burp cloth over her shoulder and positioned Savannah so she was looking over her shoulder.
Savannah hiccupped a few times and Katie rocked. “Shh, it’s OK.” Gathering her courage, Katie turned toward Dean and met his stare.
They said nothing.
“I think I should go.” Monica finally spoke. “Unless you want me to stay, Katie.”
“No. It’s OK. I’m OK.”
Monica sent her a sympathetic smile before turning to Dean. “You behave.” She wiggled a finger in front of his face as he had done hers.
Monica slipped from the room and out of the apartment.
Katie moved around the room and prepared to change Savannah’s soiled diaper. Dean had backed up to the doorway and watched in complete silence.
Several weeks of practice granted her speed and agility with the task. Within a couple of minutes, Katie had Savannah back in her arms, before she walked past Dean and into the living room. Katie folded Savannah into the swing and turned the knob. Savannah attempted a smile and contently enjoyed the rocking motion.
Without explanation, she washed her hands in the sink and moved to prepare a bottle. Just because Savannah wasn’t screaming for it, didn’t mean she wouldn’t ask soon if it was delayed for long. The domestic chores and silence gave Katie a little time to think. Her heart had finally slowed to a normal pace and the situation felt less dire.
“She’s yours, isn’t she?” Dean asked.
“Yes. No. Well, not quite mine.” That had to be the most screwed-up answer to a question ever.
“Which is it?” Dean’s question was soft.
Katie placed a plastic liner into a bottle and filled it with formula. A pot was already on the stove to boil so she turned it on. “Legally she’s mine. At least as far as we can tell.”