It was pretty surreal, but Ellen was turning out to be a fantastic fake grandmother. On the Monday after meeting her, she sent over a gift basket that contained baby blankets, diapers, toys, books—tons of books—and more. It had been me feel horribly guilty but also, in a weird way, touched.

“How so?” Blake asked when I told him about it on Tuesday. We were having lunch in his private suite again. Zoe was asleep on the bed. She usually didn’t nap at this time of the day, but apparently the excitement of having more babies at the nursery had worn her out. Certainly Pat and his assistant had looked a little bit less energetic when I’d dropped in earlier.

“Well... poor Zoe kind of missed out a bit in the family department. There aren’t a whole lot of people in the world who care about her. There’s me, Jana, Hazel, Pat…” Was it my imagination or did his face darken when I mentioned Pat? Weird. “You, and now Ellen.”

“Glad I made the list,” Blake said, his voice gruff.

“Your mother has also texted me twice, too, asking about Zoe. I sent her some pictures.”

“You did?” Blake paused with a bite of salmon halfway to his mouth. Today he’d ordered food from a nearby seafood restaurant.

“Yes,” I said patiently. “Because she thinks Zoe’s her granddaughter. Because we let her think that.”

“I know, but, when I was a baby, she knew I was her flesh and blood and never seemed that attentive.”

“She’s different now. You are too.”

“I would hope so. Women dig guys who know how to tie their shoes and pour their own milk on their cereal.”

I laughed. “You just figured out my secret turn-ons.”

It was a joke, but Blake cocked an eyebrow at me. “The first two aren’t exactly worthy of a letter to Penthouse, but I’m listening. Tell me more.”

I laughed again—something I was doing more and more of in his presence. Even though he was the big boss, even though he looked as hot as a Hollywood celebrity, I was becoming more comfortable with him. Spending this much time together, it would have been hard not to.

“Seems like that’s something you should be able to figure out on your own.” I never would have said something so flirty if my baby had been awake, but since she was out of it, I was feeling bolder. Not that she understood me, but still.

“I’d love to.” Blake’s voice was low and husky, but thinking of Zoe pulled me back to the issue at hand.

“You can’t let her do this.”

“Who?”

“Your mother,” I said, and Blake groaned.

“Are we ever going to have time to focus on you and instead of my mother or your daughter?”

“Not until we straighten this out. It’s cruel, Blake. When you mother finds out that Zoe isn’t your daughter, she’s going to be crushed. We can’t go on letting her think that.”

“Why not? It’s making her happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her.”

“But what happens when she finds out?”

“Who says she has to?” Blake was staring past me now, looking in the general direction of my sleeping baby. “You said before that Zoe doesn’t have enough family. Enough people who care about her. I care. I care about both of you. Even though I’m not her father, couldn’t I be a part of her life?”

I gaped at Blake, completely surprised. Was this really the man that my coworkers said was a complete and total playboy? A perpetual Peter Pan type who could be serious at work but only out for a good time in his personal life? And yet… I’d never really seen that side of him. Maybe he’d already been changing when he met me. And my sweet little girl.

Still, this wasn’t right. I wanted a dad for Zoe, more than anything, but it needed to be for the right reasons. Because he loved me. Loved us. Not because his mother had mistakenly thought that he was the father.

“Blake, that’s very… generous. And kind. But… it doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” Now he looked directly at me and his rich, chocolate-colored eyes seemed to strip away my secrets.

“Because we’ve barely begun to figure out what we mean to each other. We’re at the beginning of a… a…”

“A relationship. See? I can say the word. Why can’t you?”

“I can. And I want that.” I said the words, and they were partly true, but not entirely. Some stupid, hopelessly naive corner of my mind still hoped that Zorro would show up, claim his love for me and my baby, and we’d live happily ever after. “But this can’t work.”

“Give me one reason.”

“Because we’re still getting to know each other. Because it’s not fair to your mom to make her believe a lie. Because you can’t even pick up the baby.”

His mouth morphed into what could best be described as a pout. He looked so put out that I took a bite of salad to mask the urge to smile. “She likes you. She’d like to be held by you. Babies aren’t as fragile as you seem to think they are.”

“You sound like the instructor the other night.”

Blake’s voice was sullen, and for some reason, it struck me as adorable. “What instructor?”

“For the infant CPR course. Vera told me about it, and I went.”

“You did?” Suddenly, the urge to chuckle at his pouting fled entirely. He’d really done that?

“Yeah, well, when you started bringing Zoe in here for lunch, I thought about graduating to solid food eventually, and god forbid something would happen… It’s no big deal, it was just two hours. Got a certificate and everything.”

He’d really done that? For my little girl? “That’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for her.”

He raised an eyebrow, some of his normal confidence returning. “The kind of thing a man who wants to be part of her life would do?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “Yes, but… it’s a lot more than that. Even being a pro tem parent is a lot of work. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“So? I’ll learn along the way.”

“Blake… let’s just tell Ellen. Now, before she gets even more attached. And before Zoe gets old enough to get attached to her.”

He reached over and took my hand, waiting until I looked into his eyes. “Would you just think about what I said?”

I sighed. It wasn’t right. It would be accepting a substitute family instead of holding out for a real one. But it had meant a lot that Blake had even offered to take some role in Zoe’s life. I couldn’t let him think I didn’t appreciate that gesture.

“I’ll think about it.”