Borrowed Baby by Marie Ferrarella Page B

gum.
    Holding the bottle aloft, he marched back into the living room. Liz was sitting on the arm of the sofa with Casie in her lap. The baby was drooling all over and generally making a mess of Liz's dress. She seemed oblivious to it, to everything but comforting the baby. A lot of women would have been horrified at having such a fancy dress stained. His estimation of Liz grudgingly rose another notch.
    Griff thrust the bottle toward Liz. "Here."
    She glanced at it, then up at him. "In a glass, Foster. I need to wet down my finger."
    "And I need to wet down more than that." He went back for a shot glass and poured two fingers' worth into it.
    Liz dabbed her finger into the amber liquid, then gently massaged Casie's gum with it. Casie made a horrible face, but the crying went down an octave before it finally faded.
    Griff took the glass from her, contemplated it, then downed the remainder of the contents. He had a feeling that he was going to need it tonight, for more than one reason.

Chapter Seven
    "Would you like me to spend the night?"
    Griff almost choked. Staring at her, he lowered the shot glass slowly as he replayed her words in his head. Had he heard her correctly? He was very aware of the fact that there was a silent drama being played out between them on another more sensual, more basic level. He knew that she knew it, too. But he hadn't expected her to come right out and suggest that they sleep together, especially not after she had just come home from a date with another man. A rather expensive date if the dress she was wearing was any indication as to the kind of places her boyfriend took her to.
    He set the shot glass down on the coffee table a little too forcefully. There was an ominous crack when it came in contact with the wood. "What?"
    Casie's crying jag had left him a trifle rattled, Liz decided as she rocked the baby. He looked a little ragged around the edges, which had prompted her to make her offer in the first place.
    "Would you like me to spend the night?" she repeated, enunciating every word slowly. "I can take care of Casie for you if she starts crying again. You certainly don't appear to be in any shape to look after her."
    "Oh."
    He felt embarrassed at his mistake. He should have realized that was what she meant. Maybe she hadn't noticed his overreaction. As to her offer, his natural inclination was to turn it down, but then he stopped himself. The woman had a point. He wasn't cut out for all this. She apparently was. That's why he had called her in the first place, he reminded himself. Where had she been half the night, anyway? He felt the stirrings of jealousy take hold again. He shook them off. No business of his where she went and with whom. No business at all.
    So why did he feel so angry?
    "You're not exactly dressed for it," he pointed out, unable to contain a touch of sarcasm. "She's drooling all over your dress."
    Liz glanced at the wet spots that Casie had created. Her heart sank. This was going to be some cleaning bill. Oh well, she tried to rally herself, there was no use lamenting anyway. "It'll come out eventually and I had no idea that taking care of a teething baby had a dress code." She continued rocking and cuddling Casie against her, and the baby began to settle down. Liz raised her eyes to Griff's face. "Now, do you want me to stay or not?"
    He wished that she wouldn't look up at him like that. She looked too damn sexy for her own good. Or his. "Suit yourself."
    "Foster, the words are, 'yes, thank you,' not 'suit yourself.'"
    He looked as if he wanted to spit lead. But he used the words she fed him, however grudgingly. "Yes," he muttered, "thank you."
    "See, Casie, even he can be trained," Liz whispered to the baby with a soft laugh.
    He heard what she said, just the way she had meant him to, but he ignored her. He looked at her dress and felt a tinge of guilt. It had undoubtedly cost her an arm and a leg. "I'll pay the cleaning bill." He ran his finger over the stain at her