Think About Love by Vanessa Grant Page B

business. When the clients were men, they too often resented being given advice by a woman. With Cal, she'd gradually relaxed as she'd come to realize that although he would argue hotly when he disagreed with her recommendations, if she could give him good reasons, he would accept her ideas with none of the aggressive male insecurity she'd learned to expect.
    "My parents are a hard act to follow," Cal said as he carved his potato into pieces and began eating. "They've worked together since before they married. Partners in work and in life." He chewed a large mouthful of potato, swallowed, then said, "You and I are good partners. We have been from the beginning."
    There were a thousand things she could have said. Business partners didn't necessarily make life partners. She wasn't the sort of person who should ever marry. She didn't want to marry anyone, not Cal, not....
    Would they share the cooking, take turns as his parents had? Would Kippy learn to cook early and take her own turn? His family didn't sound conventional, but what did she know of conventional families? Would he play with Kippy, the way she'd seen other men play with babies in the park? Would he hold her high and send her into delighted squeals?
    A business deal, but he'd gone with her when she put Kippy to bed, had covered her tenderly, as if he really cared about this small baby whose world had suddenly turned upside down.
    She couldn't marry Cal. The idea was preposterous. She had to think about Kippy, had to forget about Tremaine's, and Calin Tremaine. When she picked up Kippy at Diane's today, the baby had clung to her tightly again, then fell asleep in her arms as if she were only now secure enough to sleep. Diane said she'd been awake all day, hadn't napped. Pining for Dorothy?
    Samantha pushed her plate away. "Cal, you can't marry someone just because you don't want them to quit a job."
    He carved a piece of chicken, chewed it, swallowed, then pushed his own plate aside. "Not them, Samantha. You. I don't want to lose you. Why are you determined never to marry?"
    "I'd make a mess of it."
    "I can't imagine you making a mess of anything you set out to do."
    "That's because I stick to what I do well."
    Mercifully, Kippy began crying and Samantha was able to excuse herself and hurry back into the baby's room. When she picked the Kippy up, the baby twisted against her and wailed. She carried the baby out to the dining room. Time for Cal to leave, and she wasn't going to be diverted with talk of marriage.
    "There's one motel on the island," she told him. Take my rental car. I'll give you directions."  
    Kippy wailed even louder and thrashed about in her arms.
    Cal stood and reached out to touch the baby's face. Samantha's lips parted to protest, but somehow the words didn't come. He slipped the tip of his smallest finger between the baby's gums and suddenly, Kippy stopped crying and began sucking on his finger.
    "She's—she's hungry," Samantha stammered. Cal was too close, far too close, and although he was staring at the baby right now, any second he'd look up. She wasn't sure what he'd see then, but she knew she couldn't let him hold her gaze with her heart pounding like this.
    "She's not hungry, Sam. She's teething and she needs something to chew on. Why don't you give her to me, while you go see if she's got a teething ring."
    "A teething ring?"
    "They're usually plastic, or maybe rubber, sometimes shaped like a pretzel. Or there might be some teething biscuits." He took the baby out of her arms and cradled her in the curve of his arm. Kippy still had Cal's finger clamped between her gums, and she accepted the change of arms without protest.
    Teething ring... or biscuits. Samantha walked into the pantry, feeling oddly unsteady. She found a package of biscuits evidently intended for babies, judging by the picture on the box.
    "Will this do?" she asked, returning to hold the biscuit out to Cal.
    He took it in one hand, brushed it against the baby's cheek.