He shrugged. “I think that describes this kid’s situation, don’t you?”
She nodded. “That means the perfect name for him is Isaac.”
James was surprised that she’d come up with that so quickly. Though he knew he probably shouldn’t have been. “What does Isaac mean, Professor?” he asked.
She gave him a mischievous smile. “It means, ‘God laughed.’”
Lexi, Caleb, and Logan snorted. James felt himself fall a little bit in love with her.
“I like it,” he said. He looked at the baby boy. “Isaac it is.”
Harper looked immensely pleased.
He couldn’t wait to get her out on their date tomorrow night.
Was it strange to think of looking for the woman he might have knocked up in a one-night stand as dates with Harper? Maybe. But he was looking forward to them anyway.
5
She was definitely going to go along to find this woman with James.
Not because she wanted to see her in person and see just what kind of woman was James Reynaud’s type, or because she wanted to confront this woman about how she could just abandon her baby in a basket. Not because she felt a stupid need to see James and this woman together to gauge if there maybe was something there besides a physical attraction that had lasted, apparently, only one night. Not because she was enough of a control freak to want to be sure James asked all the right questions. Not because she thought she was exceptionally good at reading people and thought she could maybe determine how attached or unattached this woman really was to this baby that Harper was starting to feel very attached to. Not because…
She was full of crap. It was because of all those reasons. And because she wanted to see James outside of this apartment and the landing in between their places. Their relationship existed inside a bubble that encompassed two apartments and a ten-foot stretch of balcony between them. She wanted to see him out in his world. She had no doubt that the search for these women would take her into some of his favorite places. It wasn’t as if he were picking women up in places he never went or enjoyed. She was certain at least one of them was someone he’d met at the club he played in on the weekends, and she suddenly wanted to see that club.
This was all probably a really bad idea.
They’d be looking for the woman he had a baby with. They’d be meeting women he’d slept with. Did she really want to do that?
No.
Still, Harper spun in front of her mirror in a new dress. A. New. Dress.
She never bought dresses like this. She wore jackets and skirts to work, professional dresses, slacks. She had a sundress or two for summertime in Louisiana, of course. She was going to need to get more of those because she’d only been here for one summer, and holy hell, the fewer clothes the better down here in the devil’s armpit. But she didn’t have date dresses. Because she didn’t go on dates.
“You’re not going on a date now either,” she told herself firmly.
She and James were going out to a restaurant together tonight because the maybe-baby-mama was a waitress at this particular establishment. They were going to a restaurant together because they were trying to figure out if him having sex with this woman had resulted in a sweet baby boy. Because he had slept with this woman. That part was certain.
Her breath caught as she heard the knock on her door. That had to be James.
Not. A. Date.
But her stupid stuttering heart rate didn’t quite believe it.
She pulled the door open.
“I don’t suppose you know anything about—”
James had clearly prepared to greet her at the door the way he had so many other times. But he broke off midsentence. His gaze traveled over her. Head to toe. Twice.
“Damn,” he finally said gruffly.
“Stop it.” Him looking at her like that was doing nothing to slow her heart rate or convince her imagination that this wasn’t what it appeared to be. A date.
She stepped out and pulled the door shut behind her.
“Seriously,” he said, backing up only enough so that she could turn to lock her door. He didn’t give her much space at all. “You look amazing.”
See, that made it seem like a date, too.
“Is everything okay with Isaac?”
James had dropped him off with Bea just before coming over to get Harper. She’d been tempted to go along. He’d invited her. She’d wanted to. She’d wanted to meet Bea and be there to help give instructions for the baby’s care. But that had been an overreaction. Bea was watching him because they were on their way to play Sherlock Holmes for the night and try to find his mom. He wasn’t theirs. At least, he wasn’t hers. She wasn’t his mom. There was no reason for her to give Bea instructions. Besides, Bea was the grandmother of six. She’d not only helped raise some of those kids, but she’d raised three of her own and now babysat for several of the parents in the support group. She knew far more about babies—even this one—than Harper ever would.
Harper was really only a babysitter herself. A brand-new-to-all-of-this one, as a matter of fact.
Plus dropping the baby off together would have also made this feel like they were in a relationship and going on a date rather than what it was—a mission.
“Everything is great. And you look amazing,” James repeated.
He did, too. He was dressed in dark jeans and a dark gray button-up shirt. It was untucked, and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and he looked sexy and relaxed and confident, and she wanted to lick the V of skin where the top two buttons were unfastened.
Finally, Harper made eye contact. “Thank you.”
“Really. You don’t look professor-y or librarian-y at all tonight.”
“Those are not actual adjectives.” It seemed easier to talk grammar than to talk about how his compliment made her feel.
“Sure they are. They have ‘y’ on the end and are describing a noun. You.”
She couldn’t help her little smile even as she shook her head. “That doesn’t make them an adjective.”
“Not sure you’re right about that.”
“What’s that mean, anyway?” she asked, knowing from experience that these types of “arguments” were without end or victory with James. “It’s a good thing that I don’t look like I usually do? And sometimes I look like a librarian?”
“Oh, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” he told her, putting a hand on her lower back and steering her toward the steps. “Hot professor and naughty librarian totally work for me. But sweet girl-next-door does, too.”
Harper stopped at the top of the stairs. She turned to him. “This isn’t a date.”
“I wasn’t sure, either. Until I saw you.”
Her heart flipped. In part, due to his words but even more because of the look in his eyes. It was hot, but there was also a touch of affection there.
“It’s the hair, yes?” she asked, lifting a hand to touch the curls around her face.
She shouldn’t have worn it down. She definitely shouldn’t have curled it.
James lifted a hand and twisted one of those curls around his index finger. “Yeah. It’s the hair.”
“I had my straightener heated up but made a last-minute change to go with the curling iron instead.”