Baby for the Billionaire(133)
She stared down to where he pointed to a small pink dot on Dylan’s chest. “And here.” He indicated another spot, this one with a small scab.
“I saw that—I thought it was an insect bite. But shouldn’t there be more spots?”
“Not necessarily. Some cases only have a few spots here and there.”
Lifting her head, she said, “But I thought chicken pox spots were watery blisters.”
“That one,” he gestured to the pink dot, “will blister soon. Then it will scab over.”
Victoria stared at Chuck, conscious of an overwhelming sense of relief. Dylan wasn’t going to die. It wasn’t scarlet fever or convulsions or some incurable disease. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”
“Plenty of fluids, calamine lotion and cool baths. I’ll prescribe some acetaminophen for Dylan and a mild sedative for you. Is there anyone to help you with the baby? He’ll need to stay home for a week. And you need some rest.”
Oh, no. She gave a groan. “I need to go to work.”
“I’ll give you a note.”
What would Bridget and the rest of the partners say? “I can’t, I’ve taken too much time off already.”
“Your body needs rest if you’ve been up the kind of hours I suspect this young man has been keeping.” Chuck drew a card from a holder on the nearby table. “This is for a nursing service. They’ll be able to assist you over the next week, although he can go back to the day care center once he’s better.”
“That must be where he picked this up,” Connor growled from behind her.
Victoria felt awful, and remorse set in afresh.
“He could’ve come into contact with the virus anywhere.” Chuck shrugged. “But the incubation period is ten to twenty days, so given the time he’s been at the day care center it’s highly unlikely he contracted chicken pox there.”
Victoria could’ve kissed Chuck. It wasn’t her fault. But the feeling of relief that numbed her knees turned to horror as she heard Chuck ask Connor, “Have you had chicken pox?”
Connor nodded.
“Good, then you can help Victoria.”
Connor’s angry gaze bored into her. “Don’t worry, I intend to.”
Misery sank like a dark cloud over Victoria. He would take Dylan away from her. She really didn’t need the only kind of help Connor was prepared to give.
“Thanks so much for taking us to Charles Drysdale. He’s such a nice doctor.”
Connor listened to Victoria’s polite babble as she whipped the sleeping Dylan through the front door, set the infant seat down on the white carpet and swung the door closed in Connor’s face.
Before it could click shut he threw his full weight forward against the wood. “Not so fast,” he growled, sticking a foot in the crack.
Folding her arms, she blocked the gap he’d leveraged open. “If you don’t mind I need to see to the baby.”
“I mind very much,” he said with slow menace that caused her hazel eyes to turn gold in startled fear.
“It’s late, Connor. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“No!” He’d done with compromise. Now they would do things his way.
He shouldered the door open. She shrank back. Damn right she should be scared. Right now he was too furious to pay much attention to her fears.
“What are you going to do tomorrow? Take more leave?”
“I can’t—I’m in the middle of …” Her voice trailed away as his frown deepened. Then she drew a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. “To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to think what I’m going to do. Perhaps I’ll hire a nurse.”
“And leave the baby with someone you’ve never met?” The anger that had been smoldering since he’d first discovered she’d lied to him about taking leave and had taken Dylan to a center full of other babies reignited.
“I’ll make sure I get someone with good references.”
“You won’t need to.”
Fear shadowed the gold-green eyes. “What do you mean?”
“We agreed that you would take leave!”
“You demanded that I take leave—I never agreed.”
Connor ran his hands through his hair and tried to remember back to what had been said. “Well, you certainly never objected. You know I’d assumed you’d agreed.”