“He’s just a baby, for goodness’ sake,” she argued. “It isn’t as if we found him sleeping in a dumpster. Tilly asked us to take care of him for a little while.”

“Us?”

“You. You have to take care of him.”

He lounged back on one elbow. “She thought we were married.”

Megan felt the blush rise up her neck. The tone of his voice made her uncomfortable. It was a bedroom voice, velvet – edged and suggestive. She slurped her chocolate milk shake and wondered what she was getting into. Patrick Hunter looked like the wolf about to eat the gingerbread man.

“Forget it,” she said. “This is one gingerbread man who’s going to make it to old age.”

“You want to run that by me again?”

She stuffed her empty wrappers into the bag. “No. It would be embarrassing. I’m going home.”

He followed her to the kitchen. “Hold on. You can’t leave me alone with the baby.”

“Sure, I can.”

“I’ll turn him over to the state.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I have no choice. I work all day. What would I do with him?”

“You could get a baby – sitter.”

Gotcha, Pat thought. He’d gotten her back in his kitchen. Back in his rocking chair. And who knew where they’d go from the rocking chair?

“Okay. I’ll let you baby – sit, but only if you agree to have supper with us every night. I think it’s important for a family to be together at the dinner table.”

Megan smiled triumphantly and wrapped her cape around her shoulders. “Deal!”

She whisked out the front door and headed for her car, parked by Merchants Square. She’d walked less than a block when she stopped short and gasped. Patrick Hunter had manipulated her! That no – good, irresistible skunk had wheedled her into taking care of the baby!