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was up for at the moment.
    “Yes. Kitty.” Raina pronounced each word succinctly, like she were spitting out watermelon seeds that had been dipped in battery acid. “You failed to mention that you’d gotten engaged. Did it just slip your mind?”
    Once again, his cool, professional Raina had been replaced by someone hotheaded and out-spoken. Not to mention someone dressed a tad less professionally than normal.
    He looked pointedly at Isabella. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”
    “Obviously, or your fiancée wouldn’t have to call me at home three times last night.”
    “She called you three times and you’re just now giving me the messages?”
    “Well,” she propped her hands on her denim-clad hips, “that’s what you get for not answering the phone.”
    “I had to turn the phone off. Isabella cried every time it rang.”
    The annoyed look she shot him should have countered at least some of her appeal. It didn’t.
    He studied her, hoping to discern why he suddenly found her so fascinating. Instead of her usual dark business slacks or calf-length skirts, she wore simple blue jeans. Instead of a jacket and button up white blouse, she wore a copper-colored T-shirt. The effect should have been quite ordinary. After all, he’d seen a multitude of women dressed in jeans and T-shirts. Such casual clothes looked good on some, made others look dowdy or work worn. They rarely made anyone look like a sex goddess.
    Yet on Raina, that was somehow the effect. The jeans were slim-fitting, drawing his attention to the hitherto unknown fact that her legs stretched on forever. The T-shirt was soft and worn, falling just below her waistband, tempting him with the possibility it might reveal a swath of her midriff. Suddenly he was aware that, instead of the multiple layers of bulky shirt and jacket that usually barricaded her breasts from his gaze, today there was only a single layer of cotton. And probably one of silk.
    He had to force his eyes back to her face, only to find her glaring at him. “What’s wrong with you this morning?”
    Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he said, “You don’t normally dress so…informally.”
    “Of course not.” She stepped forward into the entryway.
    A better man would have backed away, given her the space to pass without brushing against him. However he couldn’t resist that seemingly innocent contact. Her gaze darted to his as their shoulders brushed. That instant of eye contact was the only indication that she, too, felt the heat between them. Her voice, when she spoke, was as brisk and unaffected as normal.
    “This isn’t exactly a normal work situation,” she continued, striding past him into the living room. “If we’re not going into the office, then I’m not wearing a suit.”
    He followed her into the living room and was faced with the first major flaw of his plan to have Raina teach him parenting skills. Raina stood in the middle of the living room, hands propped on hips, accentuating their narrow width and the gentle curve of her bottom. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder as she cocked her head to one side, studying the chair where Isabella sat.
    The image she presented was temptingly informal. And somehow right at home. In his home.
    Naturally, she’d been to his house many times before. But never before had he been struck by how natural it seemed to have her there.
    She looked over her shoulder to where he stood, struck dumb—apparently—in the doorway. “Well, you had her alone overnight and you didn’t kill her. That’s a start.”
    “I had to call the nanny.”
    “Figures,” she muttered with a derisive snort. “Well, no one would expect to be able to handle an infant all alone on the first night. That’s just crazy.”
    The insult was obvious. She thought he was crazy. Raina, who’d never so much as criticized his penmanship without the utmost tact, had just insulted him.
    He gave her a thoughtful look. “You’re mad at me,” he