Dinner had long since been cleared away. He assumed Amelia was asleep. And Devin had a cup of tea cooling beside her computer as she typed. A plate of cookies and small pastries was in the middle of the table in front of her, but it didn’t look like she’d indulged.

“Accidents do happen,” she repeated, obviously correctly identifying the source of his displeasure. She hit another key then closed the laptop.

“Accidents,” he responded as he settled into the chair at the end of the table, around the corner from hers, “can be prevented.”

“Are you always this controlling?” she asked, glancing at the top nanny résumé.

“I’m always this organized.” He lifted the résumé and began reading. “Graduated from the London Royal Nanny Academy in 1978.”

“Too old.”

He looked up. “I requested someone with experience.”

Devin shook her head. “Not that much experience. Amelia will be walking soon, and toddlers are energetic.”

“We’re looking for a nanny, not a playmate.”

Devin set her cup firmly down into the saucer. “I expect a good nanny to spend plenty of time playing with Amelia.”

“And I expect a good nanny to know her way around a changing table.”

“You need to get over that, Lucas.”

“I am over it.” He pointedly went back to reading.

“Sure you are,” Devin muttered.

Well, he could be forgiven his frustration. Amelia had looked fairly sweet and harmless while she slept on Devin’s lap. It had seemed like a perfect chance for him to stick his toe in the water of uncle-hood. How was he to know the baby was effectively booby-trapped?

But Devin had known.

He strongly suspected she’d set him up. But it would take more than that to dissuade him from bonding with Amelia. He’d already started reading a couple of how-to books. He’d master baby-raising or die trying.