Claiming the Captain's Baby Read online

  Fortified with a cup of fresh pineapple and a cup of green tea, Mya raced up the staircase and into the office to see how much she could accomplish before Lily woke up.

  * * *

  Giles noticed the blinking light on the hotel phone; there were only three people who had the number for the hotel: his mother, Jordan and Jocelyn. He’d sent Jordan a text with the number to avoid Mya overhearing their conversations if the call came through his cell. He smiled. Jordan had left a message for him to call him back.

  “Hey, brand-new Daddy. Are you getting any sleep?” he asked Jordan.

  “Barely. My boy really has a set of lungs. He’s hungry all of the time and I’ve told Aziza to give him a bottle in between breast feedings.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I can’t repeat it on an open line. She says she wants to breastfeed him until he starts cutting teeth. Not to change the subject, but what’s going on down there with Mya?”

  “So far it’s all good,” Giles admitted. “She seems to have softened her stance about coming to New York with me.”

  “When is she coming?”

  “She mentioned Thanksgiving. Hopefully she’ll change her mind and we’ll come sooner. I found out that she doesn’t need money, so that’s an argument I can’t use as a basis for joint custody.” He told Jordan about Mya’s parents leaving her and her sister the house and business. “The baby is getting bigger and more delightful than when I first saw her.”

  “So you like being a daddy?”

  Giles smiled. “I’m getting used to it. What I really want to be is a hands-on father. I want to be there for her piano and dance recitals. I want to become involved during parent-teacher conferences and—”

  “Enough, G,” Jordan said, interrupting him. “I know you resent your father not being there for you because he put WDG ahead of his family obligations. Think about it, Giles. The company is a python. It constricts and then swallows you inch by inch until you can’t get out. Don’t be like Patrick. Take time to enjoy your family before it’s too late.”

  “I will.” He paused. “And thanks for the pep talk.”

  Jordan laughed. “There’s no need to thank me. You’ve helped me get my act together more times than I can count. Now, the next time we talk, I want you to tell me that you and your baby’s mother have become one happy little family.”

  “We’ll see,” Giles said noncommittedly. “Give Aziza my love and kiss Maxwell for me.”

  “Will do,” Jordan said.

  After ending the call, Giles thought about his cousin’s reference to one happy little family. That had become a reality for Jordan when he married Brandt’s attorney. They were now the proud parents of a little boy. He knew Jordan wasn’t just blowing smoke when he talked about taking time to enjoy being part of a family. Jordan and his law partner agreed he would take a six-week paternity leave. Six weeks.

  And that’s how long Giles planned to stay in Wickham Falls, and hopefully when he left to return to New York it would be with Mya and Lily.

  Leaning back in the desk chair, he studied a framed print of a beach scene. The suite was a cookie-cutter replica of many others he’d checked into. While some suites were more luxurious and opulent, the overall physical design was the same. He compared the furnishings with those in the villas on the islands owned by WDG International. With the assistance of his broker, WDG, Inc., sold several properties to the wealthy looking to live permanently on their private island, while several others were designated as vacation properties.

  Reaching for the television remote, he turned on the television and began channel surfing. Viewing what he sometimes referred to as mindless TV had become the distraction to temporarily take his mind off his work. Occasionally he would get out of bed in the middle of the night to boot up his computer to input ideas for a new project, aware that he had become his father.

  Patrick Wainwright II rarely shared the evening meal with his family. He left home at dawn to go into the office and occasionally returned home after everyone had retired for bed. The running family joke was when had Pat found the time to get his wife pregnant—not once or twice, but three times?

  In the past, Giles never would’ve stayed out of his office for more than a week. Now it would be six weeks. And he was prepared to stay in Wickham Falls even longer if he was able to convince Mya that it was in his daughter’s best interest to connect with her other family.

  Legally, Lily was Mya’s daughter, while biologically she was his. And that made her their daughter and a family.

  Holding Lily against his heart and feeling the warmth of her little body had elicited an unconscious craving to protect her against everything seen and unseen.

  * * *

  Giles stood on the porch, peering through the glass on the storm door. He rang the bell and within seconds Mya came into view carrying Lily on her hip. Smiling, she unlocked and opened the door.

  “You’re early.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I thought I’d come by and see if I can help with something.”

  His admiring gaze swept over her face, lingering on her mouth, before slowly moving down to a loose-fitting light blue blouse and navy leggings. A pair of blue ankle socks covered her feet. The first time he’d come to the house, he’d noticed Mya did not wear shoes indoors. It was obvious she was a neat freak because everything was in its place and the floors were spotless.

  “Should I take off my shoes?”

  “Please. Only because Lily’s crawling and she puts everything she finds on the floor in her mouth. I should’ve warned you that jeans and sweats are the norm around here, because Lily will sometimes spit up her food or milk.”

  Bending slightly, he took off his slip-ons, leaving them on the mat beside her running shoes. “I’ll know for the next time.” He’d exchanged his jeans and sweatshirt for a dress shirt and slacks.

  “Did you come to help me cook?” Mya asked.

  Giles stood straight. “I can’t cook. I came to babysit.” He reached for Lily who extended her arms for him to take her. He pressed his mouth to her hair. “Hi, princess.”

  Mya stared at him as if he’d spoken a foreign language. “How do you eat?”

  “I order in or I eat out.”

  “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not. I never learned to cook. I can make coffee and toast, but not much beyond that.”

  Mya shook her head and rolled her eyes upward. “That’s pitiful.”

  “What’s pitiful?”

  “What if you can’t order in or go out? Do you subsist on toast and coffee?”

  Giles winked at her. “I always have peanut butter on hand.”

  She smiled. “You’re hopeless. Come with me to the kitchen. I have to finish making Lily’s dinner.”

  “Should I close and lock the door?”

  “You can if you want.”

  “Do you always leave the inner door open?”

  Mya nodded. “Most times I do. Of course I close and lock it at night. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t like that you live here by yourself, while your closest neighborhood is across the road.”

  “I always keep the storm door locked. And my closest neighbor happens to be a deputy sheriff. He’ll occasionally come over to check on me and Lily.”

  Giles sat on a stool at the cooking island and settled Lily on his lap. “I only asked because a woman living alone can become a target for someone looking to take advantage of her.” His protective instincts had surfaced, and he did not want to think of something happening to Mya or Lily.

  “There’s no need to worry about us,” Mya said.

  “I have to worry about you and Lily.” What Giles didn’t say was that he now regarded both of them as family, and to him family was everything.

  Mya washed her hands in one of the stainless ste
el sinks and then dried them on a towel from a stack on the quartz countertop. “I have a security system that’s wired directly to the sheriff’s office, and whenever someone rings the doorbell I see their image on my cell phone. Lastly, I have a licensed handgun and shotgun in the house, and I know how to use both.”

  “Damn!” he whispered under his breath. “You’re a regular Annie Oakley.”

  “Please watch your mouth,” Mya chided. “Lily may be too young to talk, but she does have ears. And d-a-m-n,” she said, spelling out the word, “sounds too much like dada.”

  “Sorry about that. I suppose I don’t spend enough time around children.”

  “Don’t forget that you have a daughter and my pet peeve is a girl with a potty mouth.”

  “You don’t curse?”

  “I try not to. It comes from my upbringing. My Southern Baptist mama would have a fit if any of us used bad language.”

  Giles glanced around the ultramodern, all-white kitchen with bleached pine cabinetry and antique heart-of-pine flooring.

  “Your home is exquisite inside and out.”

  “Thank you. I loved growing up here. It was somewhat of a culture shock when I moved to Chicago to attend college. I’d rented a one-bedroom apartment and I always felt as if the walls were closing in on me.”

  “You didn’t like Chicago?”

  “Please don’t get me wrong. I loved the city, but I wasn’t used to apartment living.”

  Giles digested this information. It was apparent Mya would be opposed to living in New York City, despite him owning a spacious two-bedroom condominium with incredible views of the East River and the many bridges linking Manhattan with other boroughs.

  “How long did you live there?”

  “Seven years. I stayed long enough to earn an undergraduate, graduate and post-graduates degrees.”

  Giles whistled, the sound causing Lily to look up at him. “That’s a lot of learning.”

  “It was necessary because I wanted to teach college-level courses.” Her head popped up and she gave him a direct stare. “Are you an architect?”

  “No. I’m an engineer. I’ve familiarized myself with different architectural designs since becoming a developer.”

  “You build in New York?”

  “No. I build in the Bahamas.”

  Her hands stilled. “You must spend a lot of time there because you’re quite tanned.” She went back to slicing a beet. “I hope you’re using sunblock.”

  Lines fanned out around his eyes when he smiled. “I didn’t know you cared,” he teased. “And you sound like my mother.”

  Her smile matched his. “That’s because mothers know best.” She placed the carrot and beets in a blender. “How long have you been doing business in the Bahamas?”

  “Four years.”

  Giles told her about leaving the military to join his family’s real estate company. He set up the international division after he convinced the board to extend the monies he needed to purchase three undeveloped private islands. He subsequently hired an architect to design villas and worked with an engineer to build desalination processing systems to convert ocean water for human consumption. The sale of the islands yielded a three-hundred-percent profit for the company, and he was given the green light to purchase more uninhabited islands. He now headed the division to expand their holdings to build vacation resorts on private islands throughout the Caribbean.

  Mya gave him an incredulous stare. “How many more have you bought?”

  “We now own twelve. But only half have been developed.”

  “Are there that many islands up for sale?”

  “The Caribbean Sea has an archipelago of about seven hundred islands and at least twenty-five hundred cays.”

  “That’s amazing. I never could’ve imagined there would be that many.”

  He smiled. “What’s amazing is there’s an extensive list of millionaires and billionaires waiting to write checks so they can own an island.”

  “What specs should I look for if I wanted to buy an island?” Mya asked Giles.

  “Acreage, and if it’s an island with a beach. Some buyers want one that is turnkey or if it has income potential. Another important factor is access. They want to know if it has an airstrip or the capability for a fly-in.”

  “What’s the price range, from high to low, for these rich folks’ playgrounds?”

  He smiled. For some owners, it was a private playground. “An island of about seven hundred acres will cost about sixty-two million. A smaller one measuring two acres will go for a quarter of a mil.”

  “Going, going, gone,” Mya intoned, grinning. “I’ll take the one with two acres.”

  “That’s two acres with nothing on it. It’ll probably set you back several million to make it habitable.”

  She affected a sad face. “Sorry, but I’m forced to withdraw my bid due to lack of funds.”

  Giles caught Lily’s hand when she reached for his face. “Whoa, princess. Not the eye.”

  “You have to be careful with her because she likes pulling hair and gouging eyes. I try to keep her fingernails cut to minimize the damage.”

  “Maybe she’s training for the baby WWE.”

  “That’s not nice, Giles.”

  “What’s not nice is her trying to put my eye out.” He pretended to bite on the tiny hand as he watched Mya press a button on the blender. Within seconds, the beets and carrots took on a pinkish shade. She continued blending until the vegetables were converted into hot soup. She poured it into a small bowl to let it cool.

  “That’s remarkable. You just made hot soup in a blender.”

  “Vitamix isn’t your ordinary blender. It doubles as a blender and food processor. I use it to make baby food, soups, smoothies, and frozen desserts.” Mya opened a drawer under the cooking island and took out a bib. “You can put her in the high chair so I can feed her.”

  Giles took the bib from Mya and tied it around Lily’s neck. “I’ll feed her. I have to learn some time,” he added when she shot him a questioning look. He placed Lily in the chair and carried it over to the breakfast bar.

  “I’ll finish putting dinner together while you feed your princess.”

  “Does it bother you that I call her princess?” he asked Mya.

  She made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “Of course not. Not when her mother is the queen.”

  It took him several seconds to understand her retort. He wasn’t certain whether she was teasing him, and if she was then he wasn’t offended. He preferred the teasing Mya to the one who occasionally radiated hostility. He understood her apprehension that he would attempt to challenge her right to his daughter, and Giles knew it would take time before she would trust him enough not to disrupt her life or Lily’s. “If you are a queen, then what does that make me?”

  “A king.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “Our monarchy will differ from most because as king and queen we will rule as equals.”

  “That sounds fair to me.”

  “So you’re willing to learn to cook?”

  “Oh...” Giles swallowed an expletive. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes. I’ll not have you filling Lily up on processed foods because you can’t put together a healthy meal. Do you want your daughter plagued with high blood pressure and elevated cholesterol levels before she’s enrolled in school?”

  “Damn, woman,” he said sotto voce. “You really know how to pile on the guilt.”

  “What did I tell you about cussin’? Do I have to put out a swear jar and charge you five dollars for every time you cuss?”

  “I thought it was cursing, not cussin’.”

  “You’re in the South, so down here it’s cussin’.”

  He executed a mock bow. “Point taken, Miss Sweet Potato Queen.”

  Mya stared at hi
m and then doubled over in laughter. His laughter joined hers and seconds later Lily let out a cackle and waved her hands above her head.

  Even before their laughter faded Giles was filled with an overwhelming emotion shaking him to the core. He, Mya and Lily had become a family in every sense of the word. He was a father, Mya a mother and Lily was their daughter.

  Chapter Five

  Mya glanced over at Giles as he attempted to feed Lily. Although the vegetable soup had cooled enough for it not to burn her mouth, Lily continue to fret.

  “Why is she crying?” he questioned when her whimpers became a loud wail.

  “You’re not feeding her fast enough.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “But...but won’t she choke?”

  Mya set down the potato ricer. “It’s puréed, Giles.” She walked over and took the spoon from him. “Let me show you.” She made quick work of feeding the baby, who hummed and rocked back and forth with each mouthful. “It’s like eating ice cream. You taste and then swallow.”

  Giles’s dark eyebrows slanted in a frown. “I can’t believe you make it look so easy.”

  “That’s because I know what she wants. Do you want to try feeding her dessert?”

  He nodded. “I can’t give up now.”

  Mya retrieved a jar of a peach-and-pear mix from the refrigerator and gave it to Giles. She gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Give yourself a couple of days and you’ll be a pro.”

  She went back to ricing potatoes, adding cream, salt, pepper and garlic butter, then whisked the potatoes until they were smooth and fluffy. She’d made them as a side dish for the fork-tender pot roast. The slow cooker, Dutch oven and pressure cooker were her favorite kitchen appliances, and she alternated utilizing all three when preparing one-pot meals.