Free Cook the Books by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant

Again, I briefly wondered about the possibility that Josh had been at Digger’s last night, but I dismissed the idea. If Digger had known that Josh was going to be in town, he’d have said so when we’d talked on the phone.
    I picked through my wardrobe and chose a short black skirt that I paired with a white shell and a cream-colored sheer cardigan. I’d put on tall black boots and look like a million bucks for Kyle. Josh could go to hell.
     

SEVEN
     
    “NOW that is a gorgeous baby!” Kyle beamed at Patrick, who snuggled cozily in my arms, wrapped in a new fleece blanket that I’d unearthed from the closet of baby stuff.
    “Isn’t he the best?” I rubbed the peach fuzz on the baby’s head and then kissed his nose. “I cannot get enough of him.”
    “Is, uh... is he yours?” Kyle stood in my living room holding an alarmingly large cardboard box that presumably held cookbook material. “You haven’t said anything about being married or having a boyfriend or...”
    “No, no.” I smiled. “He’s not mine. This is Patrick, Adrianna’s baby. She went to get her hair done. She should be back any minute. I’m definitely not married and not dating anyone.” I cringed. Could I be more obvious? But Kyle did look exceedingly handsome tonight. Again, he had on a suit, and although I didn’t usually gravitate toward the stockbroker look, I was willing to expand my horizons. There was something sexy about his being all covered up in layers of clothing. I briefly wondered what was under that button-down. True, Kyle had a beast of a father—I couldn’t imagine having that dreadful Hank Boucher as a father-in-law—but... Wait a minute! What the heck was I doing even considering Kyle as potential husband material? “I’m Patrick’s godmother, so I get to spoil him to pieces. You can put that box down anywhere, Kyle.”
    “Thanks.” Kyle couldn’t keep his eyes off the baby. A good sign! The man loved children and probably wanted a family of his own.
    “Here, why don’t you hold Patrick for a minute, and I’ll put the material on my desk.” I rose from the couch and passed the baby to Kyle. “Just keep him close to your body. He likes being held tightly.”
    I helped position the baby in the crook of Kyle’s arm. Cooing and sighing, the easygoing Patrick nestled right in. Reluctantly, I approached the box that my employer had set down. Ugh. I had just started to make progress on the first, much smaller, batch of notes Kyle had given me, and now I had this new mess to tackle. How on earth could Kyle imagine that randomly tossing papers into a big box was any way to approach writing? What if I handled my graduate school work like this? What if spent the semester haphazardly flinging notes into a box? Well, maybe Kyle was overzealous in his research and too busy to impose any coherent order on all of his findings. I carried the box to the bedroom and set it on a chair. Hours and hours of deciphering and typing lay ahead of me, but I would, of course, be paid for my time.
    I heard the unofficial back door to the apartment open, the door at the top of the wooden fire escape that everyone in the building used as an outside staircase. Then I heard Adrianna’s voice: “Oh, hi, Kyle.”
    When I stepped into the living room, Adrianna looked at me quizzically, as if she wanted to ask what Kyle was doing in my apartment holding her baby.
    “Hi, Ade.” I smiled at her. Her hair was now gloriously tinted in various shades of blonde that lit up her whole face, and her rose-colored tweed coat brought out the pink in her cheeks. After a few hours away from her baby, she looked as refreshed as if she’d had ten straight hours of sleep followed by a day at a spa. “Kyle and I are going to dinner at Incline,” I told her. “Part of our cookbook research.”
    Adrianna’s eyes widened. “That place is supposed to be fabulous.” She reached for Patrick. “Kyle, you’re a natural with kids. Patrick tends to fuss