Hallie didnt allow herself an instant of hesitation before she banged on Nathan Hawksmoors door.
After an interminable minute when she heard no response, she banged again. "Mr. Hawksmoor," she called, "please answer your door." She banged again. "This is important."
She knew he was home. Shed heard him come in late last night. Just as she raised her fist to bang a third time, the doorknob rattled. The man who opened the door looked groggy, his coffee-brown hair mussed. He seemed taller than she remembered. And more naked, wearing only sweatpants.
"Yes?" He gazed sleepily at her, his eyelids at half mast.
"I have your baby, Mr. Hawksmoor."
He stilled in the act of dragging a sweatshirt on over his head. He peered at her, looking cuddly and sexy and way too amused for the degree of emergency. "If you said youre having my baby, sweetheart, youve got the wrong apartment. If you said you want to have my baby," he paused, scanning her flannel nightgown, "dont you think you should buy me dinner first?"
His perusal of her floral night clothes reminded her she was woefully underdressed. But that was hardly the issue, and hardly important, considering the situation. Distressed by the stimulating view of his bare chest, she flipped the sweatshirt sleeve dangling off his shoulder. "Would you mind putting that on, or are you planning to wear it as a tie?"
With a careless shrug that elicited a show of rippling muscle, he obliged. His casual attitude made it obvious he was unmoved by her news. Surely the man didnt have babies dropped off at his dooror what women thought was his dooron a daily basis, no matter how irresistible he looked in the morning. "Listen, Mr. Hawksmoor. I have your baby," she repeated sternly. "Shes under my Christmas tree."
Once again he grinned crookedly and lounged against the door jamb. "If Christmas morning riddles are a tradition in Denmark or on Pluto, or wherever youre from, could we do it later? I just got to bed."
All that sexy grinning and seductive lazing around was getting on her nerves. She blurted, "I have no doubt that you have a far-ranging and lively sex life, Mr. Hawksmoor. Otherwise I wouldnt be here now." Irritated with herself that she found him even the slightest bit appealing, she grabbed his shirtfront. "Come get your baby!"
"Hey, this is kidnapping, sweetheart."
He didnt sound very unsettled. Evidently women dragging him into their apartments took up a huge chunk of his social schedule. "Try not to panic, Mr. Hawksmoor. I dont have designs on you."
Inside her apartment, she let him go and gave him a shove toward the tree. Pointing toward the baby, she said, "Merry Christmas. Now please take her home with you."
His amusement vanished and he flicked her a suspicious glance. "What the hell is this?"
It was her turn to feel amused. "Im guessing its a baby."
He frowned. "Why are you showing it to me?"
From the book GIFT-WRAPPED BABY, by Renee Roszel
Published by Harlequin books S.A. Copyright © 1998 by Renee Roszel
Publication Date (USA), December 1998, ISBN # 0-373-44057-X
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