Because of the Baby by Debbie Macomber Page A

right here,” he said. He had the hors d’oeuvre platters ready, plus the fruit and vegetable trays. Fine-looking trays, too, even if he did say so himself.
    He’d spent a lot of time making sure everything was as appealing to the eye as it was to the palate. The fact that he’d borrowed a cookbook by Martha Stewart from the library was his and Abbey’s secret.
    â€œBut this is Bethany and Mitch’s reception,” Christian told him, as if he didn’t already know.
    â€œBen, what can I do to help?” Mariah Douglas stepped into the kitchen and stopped abruptly when she saw Christian O’Halloran. The two regarded each other like wary dogs.
    Ben had never considered himself much of an expert when it came to dealing with women. He was a crusty old bachelor, set in his ways. Nevertheless, he liked to think he was a good judge of people. It seemed to him that Mariah Douglas was sweet on Christian—which was unfortunate, because the youngest O’Halloran brother avoided Mariah like a communicable disease.
    â€œHello, Christian,” she greeted him stiffly.
    Considering that they worked together every day, it astonished Ben that Mariah was actually blushing.
    â€œMariah.” Christian nodded once, formally, and Ben noticed that he backed up several steps.
    Mariah returned her attention to Ben. “Can I help?”
    â€œI’ve already offered,” Christian said.
    If Christian hoped those curt words would dismiss her, his plan failed. Ben decided it was time to intervene. “These trays could do with replacing, and that punch bowl needs to be refilled and set out on the table,” he said briskly. Someone hadbrought the almost empty bowl into the kitchen. “Must be plenty of thirsty folks.”
    Ignoring Christian, Mariah headed for the punch bowl.
    Christian started to lift a tray, then hesitated when he saw Mariah. “Don’t do it like that.”
    â€œLike what?” she snapped.
    Ben didn’t blame her for using that tone. He wasn’t privy to what was going on between them, but he’d listened to Christian’s complaints about his inept secretary often enough to feel some sympathy for her.
    â€œDon’t fill the punch bowl here,” Christian muttered as if that should have been obvious. “Did you stop to think how much easier it would be to carry the bowl to the table first and then mix the punch?” He gestured to the wine, soda water and fruit juice lined up on the counter.
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œHere, I’ll do that and you carry the trays out.”
    â€œNo,” Mariah insisted. “I said I’d take care of this. Stop worrying about me.”
    Christian and Mariah reached for the punch bowl at the same time. Ben could see it coming even before it happened. As they tugged at opposite sides of the bowl, the bright red remains of the punch swirled around the bottom and upward in a wave—which slapped Christian’s white dress shirt and ran down the front of his pants. He gasped and leapt back.
    â€œChristian!” Mariah cried with alarm. “Oh, no.”
    â€œNow look what you’ve done!” Christian shouted.
    â€œMe? You brought this on yourself!”
    Ben was proud to see that Mariah had learned to hold her own against her employer. She didn’t even blink as he glared at her.
    Christian’s eyes narrowed and he whirled around to leave the kitchen. “Tell Mitch and Bethany I’ll be back as soon as I’ve changed clothes,” he said to Ben.
    The instant Christian was out the door, Mariah sagged against the counter.
    â€œYou all right?” Ben asked.
    â€œI’m fine,” she muttered. “It’s just that Christian and I…Oh, never mind. I’m sorry, Ben.”
    â€œNo need to apologize to me.” He picked up the food tray himself and carried it out to the table, then stepped back to admire his work. He grinned, inordinately