That's My Baby! by Vicki Lewis Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

Nat was happy to see her. It would have been difficult to factor out the vomit in that calculation, anyway. Not many men would be happy to see a woman whose first move was to spew all over the place.
    Once in the shower, she gave in to the urge to wash her hair with the luxurious hotel shampoo. Much as it pained her to admit it, she missed the five-star treatment. In the years since she’d left Franklin Hall, she’d tried not to dip into her trust fund at all, but once she quit her job and went on the lam, so to speak, she’d had to draw some money out. She begrudged every penny she spent, because it was her father’s money.
    Consequently, she could hardly describe her accommodations in the past few months as first-class. Maybe fifth-or sixth-class.
    Knowing Nat and his lack of pretense, she’d expected him to opt for a low-to-medium-priced hotel while he was in New York, but for reasons she couldn’t fathom, he’d directed the cabdriver to the Waldorf. From the reaction of the clerk at check-in, she’d figured out Nat hadn’t made an advance reservation, so it was a spur-of-the-moment decision.
    Maybe he’d done it for her, although she’d died a million deaths standing there in the glittering lobby in her bag-lady clothes decorated with barf. Now, however, as she rinsed her hair under the most excellent showerhead she’d enjoyed in months, she blessed him for his choice.
    Ah, the thick towels. Oh, the rich scent of the body lotion. She wanted to be a good girl and not care about such superficial things, but she’d been raised with them, and the sense of deprivation had been more acute than she’d planned on.
    She smoothed at least half the tiny bottle of lotion over herself, both because it felt so good and because, once she was finished, she had to face putting on something wrinkled and musty from her backpack. She was sick to death of wrinkled and musty.
    From years of experience with luxurious accommodations, she knew that in the room’s closet a thick terry robe would be hanging ready for just this moment. Technically it was there for the use of the person who’d rented the room. That person would be Nat.
    She pictured herself coming out to talk to him in the wrinkled and baggy jumper and turtleneck she had stuffed in her backpack. Then she pictured herself having the same conversation wearing that thick white robe. The discussion would be difficult enough without looking bad while she had it.
    Wrapping a towel around her, she went to the door and opened it a crack. “Nat?”
    “Yes?” Instantly footsteps hurried in her direction. “Are you feeling okay? Should I call a doctor?”
    “I’m feeling better than I have in ages,” she said. “But I have a big favor to ask. Would you mind if I put on the hotel bathrobe that’s hanging in the closet? My clothes are…well, they don’t look very…the thing is, I—”
    “Here.” A wad of white terry poked through the crack in the door. “Enjoy.”
    “Thanks.” She opened the door enough to pull the robe through. Oh, yes. Egyptian cotton. It felt like heaven as she pulled it on and belted it around her waist. In the steamy mirror she fluffed her still-damp hair. For the first time in months, she looked and felt like herself.
    And now she had to face Nat.
    She fluffed her hair again. Then she ran a quick comb through it. She wasn’t happy with the last cut, which she’d got done at a beauty school to save money. It took an exceptional stylist to deal with her thick, naturally curly hair. This one had left it too bulky around her shoulders. She tried to tame it with her fingers, but it was no use.
    Maybe a little lipstick.
    While she’d been on the run, she’d pared down her cosmetics needs to lipstick, mascara and blush. She had the tube of lipstick halfway to her mouth when she stopped to stare at herself in the mirror. What was she doing? Trying to come on to him?
    She rolled the lipstick back down, capped it and tucked it into her backpack.