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The Paternity Factor
Caroline Cross
SHANE WYATT WAS MORE THAN A MAN He was dad to a dimple-cheeked two-year-old - but not by blood. A pediatrician's visit had proved that fact, rocking Shane's world and forever changing the way he viewed women. He didn't trust anyone - not with the precious child who called him Da-da, and certainly not with his heart… .JERRY ROSS WAS ALL WOMAN…and undeniably, irrevocably in love with the stubborn single dad. So when she saw her larger-than-life hero distancing himself from both the world and his baby girl, she knew she needed to break down his walls to reach the fiercely passionate man trapped inside… .


Desire, Unexpected And Unwanted, Slammed Into Shane With The Force Of A Runaway Train. (#u5679c1d7-cd3e-5cf6-a5de-fa8c8fdcf96f)Letter to Reader (#u6a41f40e-1ece-5f3d-8739-903b67402a7d)Title Page (#uef20f8df-ed47-51de-ba89-8513f2271068)About the Author (#u9abd5afb-351f-5e55-a7bd-c5d7d00eca67)Dedication (#u1002de95-9afa-5c89-9e0b-6a9d8d41be3a)Chapter One (#u83e1e61b-0f71-5d99-9767-f528a02d7906)Chapter Two (#u28f28483-2a92-5de8-a422-2c782344787f)Chapter Three (#u09e925b3-d722-5f05-ac53-34d745a0705b)Chapter Four (#u3aaaaa51-a497-5d5f-8350-387457f5d268)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Desire, Unexpected And Unwanted, Slammed Into Shane With The Force Of A Runaway Train.
As if a veil had been ripped away, he saw her with absolute clarity. No longer was she an uncertain youngster, an awkward adolescent, the sweet but gawky little sister of his best friend. Instead, she was a woman in every sense of the word, from the full curve of her breasts to the dip of her slender waist to the length of her Vegas-showgirl legs.
Shane’s world seemed to tilt. He suddenly wondered who the hell he thought he’d been kidding.
His libido hadn’t sprung back to life for no reason.
It was her. Jessy. God help him, but he wanted her....
Dear Reader,
The perfect treat for cool autumn days are nights curled up with a warm, toasty Silhouette Desire novel!
So, be prepared to get swept away by superstar
Rebecca Brandewyne’s MAN OF THE MONTH,
The Lioness Tamer, a story of a magnetic corporate giant who takes on a real challenge—taming a wild virginal beauty. THE RULEBREAKERS, talented author Leanne Banks’s miniseries about three undeniably sexy hunks—a millionaire, a bad boy, a protector—continues with The Lone Rider Takes a Bride, when an irresistible rebel introduces passion to a straight-and-narrow lady...and she unexpectedly introduces him to everlasting love. The Paternity Factor by Caroline Cross tells the poignant story of a woman who proves her secret love for a brooding man by caring for the baby she thinks is his.
Also this month, Desire launches OUTLAW HEARTS, a brandnew miniseries by Cindy Gerard about strong-minded outlaw brothers who can’t stop love from stealing their own hearts, in The Outlaw’s Wife. Maureen Child’s gripping miniseries, THE BACHELOR BATTALION, brings readers another sensual, emotional read with The Non-Commissioned Baby And Silhouette has discovered another fantastic talent in debut author Shirley Rogers, one of our WOMEN TO WATCH, with her adorable Cowboys Babies and Shotgun Vows.
Once again, Silhouette Desire offers unforgettable romance by some of the most beloved and gifted authors in the genre. Don’t forget to come back next month for more happily-ever-afters!
Regards,
Joan Marlow Golan
Senoir Editor, Silhouette Desire
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
The Paternity Factor
Caroline Cross



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAROLINE CROSS
always loved to read, but it wasn’t until she discovered the romance genre that she felt compelled to write, fascinated by the chance to explore the positive power of love in people’s lives. Nominated for a number of awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award, she’s been thrilled to win the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Desire, as well as a W.I.S.H. Award. She grew up in central Washington State, attended the University of Puget Sound and now lives outside Seattle, where she (tries to) work at home despite the chaos created by two telephone-addicted daughters and a husband with a fondness for home improvement projects. Caroline would love to hear from her readers. She can be reached at P.O. Box 5845, Bellevue, Washington, 98006.
To Lyle and Janice, with love and thanks for all these
years of friendship and support.
I got lucky when they were banding out in-laws.
One
“I mean it, darling. What you need is one good woman.”
“Thanks for the suggestion, Mom,” Shane Wyatt said dryly. “If you knew how much I used to hope you’d say something like that when I was a teenager...”
Jessy Ross, cloaked in the shadow of the eaves as she swayed slowly back and forth on the porch swing, smiled. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but she couldn’t resist—that last comment was pure, vintage Shane.
Her amusement faded, however, as she continued to listen to the pair leaning against the deck railing. Although their backs were to her, their voices carried clearly on the light summer breeze.
“You can joke all you want, Shane, but this isn’t a laughing matter. With your father and me leaving for Minnesota next week, and not getting back until September, Chloe is going to need someone.”
“And like I told you yesterday,” Shane replied, “I’ve been checking out a new day care and lining up extra baby-sitters—”
“Which is precisely the problem.” A note of asperity crept into Helen Wyatt’s voice. “Chloe is only two, darling. She needs some continuity in her life, not a constantly changing roster of caregivers. I know you mean well, but I really think you need to consider finding someone to move in with you for the summer.” Helen’s voice suddenly softened. “I know it’s only been eighteen months since the accident, and it might feel strange at first to have a woman other than Marissa in the house, but for Chloe’s sake...”
There was a moment of dead silence; even from her vantage point Jessy could see that Shane’s big body had gone tight with tension. She watched as he rolled his shoulders, then rammed a hand through his thick black hair, obviously struggling for patience.
“Look, Mom,” he said finally. “I’ll think about it, okay? But it’s not as easy as you make it sound. Finding someone that both Chloe and I like, who doesn’t mind the isolation out at the lake... It’s just not that easy,” he repeated, his voice strained.
Jessy took a deep breath, peripherally aware of a number of things: snatches of conversation from the backyard party going on around them; the utterly trusting way little Chloe lay sleeping in her arms; the lingering aroma of charcoal-broiled steak wafting from the barbecue grill; the warmth of the June sun as it hovered above the western horizon.
More immediate was the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat as she heard herself say, “I could do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then mother and son spun around, their expressions a study in contrasts as they caught sight of her sitting there. In a matter of seconds, Mrs. Wyatt’s face went from surprise to dawning delight.
Shane’s, on the other hand, was starkly unenthusiastic.
“Jessy?” Beneath straight black eyebrows, his pewter eyes were cool. “I didn’t realize you were there.”
Refusing to be daunted, she returned his stare. Although his features were the ones she’d always known—the straight, strong nose, the angular cheekbones, the stubborn chin—he didn’t look at all like the man she’d adored as a teenager. There was no amusement lighting those densely lashed eyes, no laughter lurking at the edges of that chiseled mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said evenly. “I probably should have said something when you first walked up, but I didn’t want to wake Chloe.”
His gaze dropped to her lap, a flicker of surprise—and something vaguely unsettling that she couldn’t identify—crossing his face as he belatedly noticed his daughter.
“I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she added.
To her relief, Helen Wyatt finally found her voice. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. You were obviously here first. Besides, it isn’t important. What matters is what you said about taking care of Chloe. Did you mean it?”
“Of course she didn’t. Mom,” Shane said flatly. “I’m sure Jess has better things to do with her summer than baby-sit for me. She’s probably got plans to hang out, see her friends, work on her tan. Right, Jess?”
He made it sound as if she were a sixth-grade student instead of a sixth-grade teacher, Jessy thought with a touch of exasperation. Yet even so, for a moment as their eyes met, she felt herself transported back to a time when she’d been twelve and he’d been twenty and she would have done anything to please him.
Then Chloe gave a faint little sigh and shifted closer, her small body warm and boneless, and Jessy was abruptly brought back to the present. Even if his wife’s death hadn’t changed Shane, it had been a long time since the days when Jessy had been madly in love with her brother Bailey’s best friend. Despite what Shane seemed to think, she was no longer an awkward, impressionable adolescent. She was a grown woman of twenty-six who knew her own mind and who—thanks to him—had learned to trust her instincts.
And what her instincts were telling her, and had been for some time, was that something was terribly wrong in Shane’s life, something more than the normal grief of losing his wife, as bad as that was. Jessy couldn’t imagine what it could be, wasn’t even sure she was right, but if there was even the slightest chance she was, she wanted to help.
Before she had a chance to say so, Chloe stirred again, as if disturbed by the adults’ tension, and slowly opened her big blue eyes. She stared uncertainly up at Jessy and popped her thumb into her mouth.
“Hey, sweetie.” Jessy smoothed a springy golden curl behind one of the little girl’s shell-like ears. “Did you have a nice nap?”
The toddler nodded, then looked around, a tentative smile lighting her pixielike face when she caught sight of Shane. Extracting her thumb from her mouth, she struggled into a sitting position. “Dada?” she said hopefully, raising her arms to her father. “Get uppie?”
For an instant Shane didn’t seem to hear. Then he abruptly stirred to life. Stepping forward, he bent down and scooped the child up.
Jessy didn’t miss either that telltale hesitation or the faint shadow that darkened his face as Chloe gave a little sigh of pleasure and locked her arms around his neck. Although both reactions were gone in a flash, they were a further confirmation of all the niggling little misgivings that had been plaguing her for months.
It was one thing for Shane to erect a wall between himself and his friends and family. It was quite another for him to rebuff his own child, no matter how inadvertently.
The realization strengthened her newfound resolve. Enough that she didn’t hesitate when Helen cleared her throat and said, “Well, Jessy? What do you say? Do you have plans for the summer?”
Jessy forced her gaze away from Shane and his daughter. “No, I don’t. I meant it when I said I’d love to look after Chloe. And actually Shane would be doing me a favor. The condo I rent has just been sold, so this would give me a chance to take my time finding a new place. Better yet—” she leaned forward and smiled reassuringly at Chloe, who was clutching her father’s T-shirt in one small hand “—I think we’d have fun, wouldn’t we, pumpkin?”
The toddler nodded solemnly.
“It’s settled then!” Helen said brightly. She looked up at Shane. “Isn’t that wonderful, darling?”
Shane’s face looked carved from granite. “Wonderful.”
Ignoring his less than eager response, his mother gave him a cheery pat on the shoulder, then turned back to Jessy. “So, dear. How soon can you move in?”
Shane couldn’t believe it. He was thirty-four years old, the founder and CEO of TopLine Sports, a sporting equipment company that employed more than a hundred people and would make a multimillion-dollar profit this year alone. He owned his own home, he voted and paid taxes, he’d been married and widowed.
Yet as he stood in his front hall Sunday afternoon and watched through the screen door as Jessy Ross pulled her little red car into his driveway, he had to admit he was no match for his mother. She’d beat him fair and square a week ago when she’d pounced on Jessy’s babysitting offer and made it into a fait accompli.
That wasn’t why he was going along, however. He was doing this because his mother was right. Chloe did need more stability in her life. She’d been a secure, happy seven-month-old at the time she lost her mother. Now, a year and a half later, after two different day cares and at least a dozen different evening and weekend baby-sitters, she was often clingy and too quiet.
Yeah? And whose fault is that?
Shane’s mouth flattened out as guilt, familiar and irksome, plucked at him. Stubbornly he tried to ignore it; after all, it wasn’t his fault he had to work—or that there were certain... truths... he couldn’t seem to forget. Besides, it served no purpose. Bottom line, Chloe needed someone she could depend on, and though Jessy was only a temporary answer since she would go back to her teaching job in the fall, her stay would at least give him time to find someone permanent.
It wasn’t going to be easy having someone in the house, though. Sometimes he thought the only thing that had kept him sane the preceding year and a half had been his absolute insistence on his privacy.
He took a firm grip on his thoughts. The past was over and done. It had taken him a long time to work through feelings, to get past the grief and the rage that had nearly consumed him. Now that he’d finally reached a blessed state of indifference, he wasn’t about to jeopardize it by getting all worked up about this or anything else.
Besides, if he had to have his solitude invaded, there was a measure of comfort in familiarity. And Jessy was certainly that, he thought, observing her as she climbed out of her car. Like her older brother, she was tall, with cornflower blue eyes and the kind of skin that turned gold with just a little sun. Unlike Bailey, however, who was a gifted athlete with the sort of looks and laid-back charm that attracted the opposite sex the way honeysuckle drew bees, Jess had been a shy, gawky kid who’d worn braces and been prone to tripping over her long, skinny legs.
Now, dressed in a navy T-shirt and khaki shorts, with her straight, honey-colored hair caught up in a ponytail threaded through the back of a Mariner’s baseball cap, she looked the way she always had—leggy, boyish, unpretentious. Shane supposed if he had to have a female around, he should be grateful it was her. At least he didn’t have to worry about an unwanted attraction.
He watched as she reached into her car. Despite the distance, he could see the thing was packed to the roof with stuff. He sighed; she always had been a bit of a pack rat. When she emerged, however, the only thing she held was a gift-wrapped package. Nudging the door shut with one slim hip, she took a leisurely look around, her gaze sweeping slowly over his contemporary, singlestory house. Even as he told himself she couldn’t possibly see him, standing as he was in the shadows, her gaze locked right on him.
“Shane!” She tucked the package under one arm and started toward him. Faster than he would have believed possible, given her lazy, loose-limbed gait, she was suddenly standing on the other side of the door. “Hi.” Her gaze searched his face, and for a moment her blue eyes seemed slightly wary. Then she smiled. “Well? Are you going to ask me in?”
“I see you found the place.” He pushed open the screen.
She stepped past him into the cool, dim hall. “Yes. Your mom gives good directions.”
“She should. She’s been telling people where to go for years.”
The corners of her wide, full mouth quirked despite his sour tone. She looked around. “This is nice. How long have you—” she hesitated for a second as she glanced to her right into the sunken living room, which was, like the dining room beyond it, completely devoid of furniture “—lived here?”
He let loose of the door. Ignoring the questions he could see in her eyes, he started down the hall toward the combination family room-kitchen, gesturing for her to follow. “A year.”
“Ah.”
In sharp contrast to the hallway, the back of the house was bright with sunlight. Narrowing his eyes against the sudden glare, Shane headed for the breakfast bar, expecting Jessy to follow.
Instead she stopped a few feet inside the room to stare at the view beyond the trio of sliding glass doors that opened onto the big cedar deck. “Wow. I didn’t realize you were actually on the water. From the front of the house, you’d never guess. How beautiful.”
He glanced out indifferently, looking past the wide expanse of emerald lawn that ran down to the shores of Lake Winston. The lake’s tranquil waters sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, while in the distance the snow-tipped peaks of the Cascades stood sentinel against a powder blue sky.
He shrugged. “It’s all right.”
Again, her eyes sought his. But before he could identify the look in hers—sympathy? concern? distress?—she glanced away. Stung, and not sure why, Be wondered caustically what her reaction would be if he told her that at the time he’d bought the place, he’d simply been looking for something that didn’t remind him of Marissa.
Crossing his arms, he watched her examine the ultramodern black-and-white kitchen that occupied the area to their right, then check out the long, curved breakfast bar with its six chrome-and-leather swivel stools. Next, she switched her gaze to the family room area, which boasted a cathedral ceiling, a pale wood floor and a big stone fireplace. Although not lavishly furnished, it did have a fully functional entertainment center and an oversize black-and-white sectional sofa.
Her expression lightened as she caught sight of Chloe, who was sitting quietly on the floor in front of the TV, watching Beauty and the Beast on video. “Hey, Chloe. How’re you?”
The toddler glanced over. For a moment she looked uncertain, the way she so often did. Then she saw who it was and her face creased with a bashful smile. “Jeddy.” Clambering to her feet, she abandoned Wait Disney and toddled over to the end of the sofa, where her nerve suddenly ran out. She ducked her head and shyly regarded Jessy through her lashes.
“Guess what, sweetie?” Closing the distance between them in a few unhurried strides, Jessy sat down on the sofa, then lifted Chloe up and gently plunked the child down beside her. “I brought something for you. A present.”
The child’s eyes widened with surprise. “Fo’ me?”
“That’s right.” She laid the package in the little girl’s lap.
“Oh.” Chloe started to reach for the bright pink bow, then suddenly stopped. She looked up at Shane. “’Kay?”
Shane nodded, feeling the usual combination of guilt and helplessness at the little girl’s diffidence.
Reassured, she turned her attention back to the package. Biting her bottom lip with concentration, she carefully pulled off the bow, making a little sound of surprise when Jessy took it and stuck it on her head. She reached up to touch it, gave a quiet giggle, then went back to work, tearing at the paper. Suddenly her big blue eyes and her Cupid’s bow mouth both rounded. “Ohhh,” she said reverently, staring at the small, soft-bodied doll. “Baby.”
“I didn’t have a clue what she had for toys,” Jessy said softly to Shane as she took the baby doll out of its box and handed it to Chloe, “but I figured she could always use another doll.”
Shane shrugged, not about to admit that up until a moment ago he’d believed two was still too young for such things. “It’s fine,” he said gruffly, watching as the child very carefully touched one small finger to the doll’s closed eyes.
“Baby sleeping,” Chloe said solemnly.
Jessy turned her gaze back to the child. “Yes. Unless...” She tipped the doll upright, rewarded as its eyes fluttered open, prompting the child to give a little gasp.
“Ohh! Pwetty.”
Jessy’s face softened and she gave the toddler a gentle hug. “Yes, but not as pretty as you. What are you going to call her?”
For once, Chloe didn’t hesitate. Lifting her chin she said clearly, “Belle.”
“Mmm.” Jessy directed an amused look at the TV, then glanced over at him. “Figures,” she said conspiratorially.
Shane tensed. Not only didn’t he have the first idea what she was referring to, but for a second there, as he watched her warm, spontaneous interaction with Chloe, he’d been suddenly, starkly reminded of just what it was he’d lost.
Irritated—just what the hell was wrong with him?—he paced over to the window, struggling to get a grip on himself.
“Shane? Is everything okay?”
The quiet question jerked him around. “Yeah, of course,” he said brusquely. “I was just thinking there are some things we need to discuss.”
“Okay.” Settling deeper into the sofa, she crossed one long, slim leg over the other and waited.
He pushed away the last remnant of unwanted emotion and forced himself to concentrate. “First, what days do you want off?”
She looked surprised. “Gosh, I don’t know. I just got here. Can’t we play it by ear?”
He shook his head. “No. I need to know so I can make other arrangements.”
She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well... Why don’t you plan on me taking care of Chloe at least through next weekend to start with, then? That way you don’t have to worry about making other plans, and I’ll have some time to see how things go. We can discuss it again after I have a better idea of what’s involved.”
Shane didn’t like it, but he could see her point. “All right.”
“Good.” She smiled. “What else?”
“Your salary. I’m not sure what you have in mind, but I thought maybe...twenty-five hundred a month?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”
“Make it three thousand, then.”
She made a low sound of protest and shook her head. “Shane—no.”
“No what?”
“Just...no. I appreciate the offer, but my teaching job pays me more than adequately during the summer. Besides, you’re doing me a favor, remember? Thanks to you, I’ve got a few months to look for a place to live.”
He stared at her earnest face, then realized he should have expected this. Jessy always had been a quixotic, kindhearted kid. She was the sort of person who cried over old movies, worried about stray puppies, championed the oppressed and defended the downtrodden. It was just like her to selflessly donate her time to an old family friend.
Except that he didn’t want her help—much less these little ripples of feeling she kept causing in him.
Yeah? Well, you’re not doing this for you, remember? You’re doing it for Chloe, so she can have some of the emotional security you’re incapable of giving her.
That didn’t mean he had to be here, however.
The realization brought him up short. He thought about it for a handful of seconds, then came to a sudden decision. “All right,” he said abruptly. “If that’s the way you feel.” Why argue about money? He’d simply decide on a sum and give it to her later. No doubt she’d be more inclined to take it once the reality of the situation caught up with her good intentions.
Besides, he was now anxious to move on to other things. “Look. Why don’t I show you where the phone list and the emergency kit are, then you can see your room and the rest of the house. That way I can help you get your car unloaded before I have to go.”
Jessy’s surprise was obvious. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. I need to go into the office for a few hours.”
“Oh.” She gave him an indecipherable look, then slowly nodded. “I see. All right.” She stood and held out her arms to Chloe. “Come on, cupcake. You can keep us company while your daddy shows me around, okay?”
The toddler hesitated, clutching her doll to her chest. “Baby, too?”
Jessy nodded. “Baby, too.”
Chloe still didn’t move. Then, apparently suffering a belated attack of shyness, she scooted off the couch, scampered over to Shane and pressed herself against his legs. “Want Dada,” she mumbled.
“Chlo—” Shane remonstrated.
The little girl buried her face against his knees, refusing to look at either adult.
Shane stared down at her small blond head. Part of him wanted to lift her up and hold her tight, to breathe in her sweet baby scent and assure her that Daddy was there and everything was going to be all right.
And part of him wanted to step away.
“It’s all right,” Jessy said, misunderstanding. “Really.”
But it wasn’t. It was never going to be all right again, he thought savagely, clenching his jaw against a jab of self-disgust. Totally out of patience with himself, he reached down and swung Chloe up, settling her securely in the crook of one arm. “It’s okay, peanut,” he murmured. Raising his voice, he looked over at Jessy and said coolly, “I guess we’re ready.”
She nodded, but the questioning look he was already starting to hate was back in her eyes. “Okay.”
He glanced away. He was just tired, he told himself. He’d go to the office for a few hours, come home and get some sleep and tomorrow, or the next day, when the strangeness of the situation had worn off, he’d have himself back under control.
Not that it mattered. Because the truth was, he’d gladly give up his control, this house, even TopLine itself, if he could only go back to the time before he’d learned Chloe wasn’t his daughter.
Two
“Elvis,” Jessy murmured as she stood at the front window and watched Shane’s car pull out of the driveway, “has left the building.” She glanced at her wristwatch, struggling against a sense of disbelief.
It was a little after five o’clock, not quite three hours since she’d arrived.
She asked herself what she’d expected. That Shane would stick around, maybe keep an eye on Chloe while she unpacked? That they’d sit down to some sort of dinner and talk—about his schedule, about who was going to tackle which housekeeping tasks, about Chloe’s wants, needs, likes and dislikes, fears and foibles?
Or, better yet, that he’d suddenly break down and confess he was glad she was there?
Well... Yeah.
The admission prompted a slight, self-deprecating smile. Get a grip, Jessica. You volunteered to do this, remember? It certainly wasn’t Shane’s idea. And if his behavior is any indication, he isn’t exactly overcome with joy at having you join his household.
Of course, now that she’d seen the house in question, she could understand his reticence.
She turned, giving a theatrical shiver as she surveyed the living and dining rooms. Like the rest of the interior, they were done predominantly in white—carpeting, walls, woodwork and blinds. Also like the rest of the interior, they had high ceilings and windows that were strategically located to maximize the various views of the surrounding woods and lake.
Jessy could see that the place had potential. Yet all that white, plus the absolute lack of such personal objects as artwork, keepsakes or photographs—not to mention such fundamentals as furniture—made it about as cozy as a glacier. She supposed she was biased, accustomed as she was to the clutter, color and organized chaos of her classroom, but to her mind it was definitely not the sort of warm, homey place best suited to raising a child.
But then, from what she could tell, Shane wasn’t exactly trying to get himself voted Father of the Year, she reminded herself as she padded across the living room and stepped into the hall.
Jessy shook her head and admitted she didn’t understand it. Not from Shane, who’d been the rock her own childhood had been built on.
After her mother had walked out on them, she, Bailey and their dad had relocated from Denver to Churchill, which at the time had been just another small town outside of Seattle. For Jessy, the move had meant the loss of everything dear and familiar: her home, school and friends, her grandparents and her cousins. Even worse, her father had been extremely bitter about the desertion. He’d shut everyone out and buried himself in his new job, too caught up in his own feelings to pay much attention to anyone else’s.
Bailey, on the other hand, had acted as if nothing had happened—except that he would walk away from the conversation anytime their mom was mentioned. At seventeen, he’d put all his energy into building a new life at his new school with his new friends, and because he was smart, athletic and exceedingly handsome, he’d been almost immediately accepted. That had left Jessy all by herself—bereft, bewildered and lonesome.
She’d heard about Shane for weeks before she finally met him. He’d been Bailey’s new best friend, so she’d known he was captain of the football team and student body president, that he made straight A’s and dated only the prettiest, most popular girls. He’d sounded so perfect, she’d been fairly sure she wouldn’t like him. Not that it would matter. If he was anything like the rest of her brother’s friends, he probably wouldn’t even notice that she existed.
Still, as luck would have it, their first meeting took place following her most disastrous day at school ever. She’d failed her math test, lost her book report, then gone without lunch because her dad had again forgotten to go to the grocery store. Things hadn’t gotten any better when Bailey had failed to pick her up after school the way he was supposed to, either. The class bully had pushed her in a mud puddle on her way home, causing her to skin her knees and tear her favorite dress. And as if that weren’t bad enough, when she finally did make it home, she’d found her brother was entertaining half the football team, while a note from her dad had said he wouldn’t be home until late.
It had been too much. Too proud to cry in front of a bunch of teenage boys, she’d made it as far as the big tree in their backyard before she’d sunk to the ground and let the tears overwhelm her. It hadn’t been pretty. She’d cried until her eyes were puffy, her throat was raw and her nose was runny.
The latter had become a definite problem once the worst of the emotional storm had passed. Hiccuping painfully, she’d been lamenting her lack of a sleeve when a beautifully timbered voice had said softly, “Here. Take this.”
Her eyes had flown open and she’d found herself staring at a wad of fresh tissues, held by a handsome stranger with soot black hair and the kindest, most beautiful gray eyes she’d ever seen.
For a moment all she could do was stare at him. Then, miserably aware he must think she was the biggest baby ever, she’d mumbled a thank-you, taken the tissue and carefully blown her nose, refusing to meet his gaze. Instead she’d just sat there, too mortified to do or say anything.
To her surprise, after a moment he’d sat down beside her, his hard, warm shoulder touching hers as if they’d known each other forever. “Tough day, huh?”
She’d nodded, swallowing around the fresh lump in her throat at the unexpected sympathy in his voice.
“You must be Jessy,” he’d said. “I’m Shane. One of Bailey’s friends.”
“Oh,” she’d said stupidly.
He hadn’t seemed to notice that in addition to being a crybaby, she was also a moron. Instead he’d leaned back on his hands, nodded in the direction of her raw knees and said casually, “So...is there somebody you want me to beat up for you?”
She’d been so stunned by the offer she’d forgotten her swollen eyes and red nose and turned to look at him. “You’d do that for me?”
He’d shrugged, and her heart had felt a little lighter as she’d seen the sudden spark of laughter in his eyes. “Sure. I don’t have a little sister of my own. It would be my pleasure.”
That had been the start of an unlikely friendship that had sustained her through the next ten years. One way or another, Shane had always been there when she needed him. When she’d tripped and broken her wrist at sixth-grade graduation, he’d been the one who’d kept her company while the doctor set the fracture. When she’d gotten braces and grown five inches freshman year, it had been Shane who’d assured her she wasn’t a freak. He’d taught her how to play pool, shoot a basket and cheat at poker. He’d listened when she needed to talk about her mother, and shown up with the world’s hokiest horror movie when she didn’t have a date for the prom. He’d brought laughter and security back to her life and she’d adored him for it.
Like the naive child she was, she’d thought he would be there for her forever. In some romantic, unrealistic part of her mind, she’d believed she and Shane were destined to be together, that he’d wait for her until she grew up. So even though she’d known he was dating Marissa Larson, a petite, ultrafeminine blonde who was everything she wasn’t, she’d been totally devastated when Shane had announced his engagement ten days before she was scheduled to leave for college.
She could smile about it now, but it had taken her a considerable amount of time to put it in perspective and accept that her love for Shane had been a childhood kind of thing. She shook her head, remembering.
Still, it didn’t really matter. Whatever name she put on what she’d felt for him in the past—true love, childish crush, teen idolization—it didn’t change the fact that she considered him one of the best friends she’d ever had.
Or that this was her chance to pay him back for all the years he’d stood by her.
She reentered the family room, where Chloe was once again parked in front of the TV set watching a video. All alone, with her thumb in her mouth and her long silky lashes looking like miniature fans every time she blinked, she was the picture of defenseless innocence. Jessy slowed her pace, startled by the strength of the protective urge that swept through her at the sight of that sweet little face.
A sudden sense of purpose filled her. Shane might have taken off, but Chloe was here—and definitely in need of an adult she could count on. Making her voice light and cheerful, she said, “Hey, sweetie. I was thinking. It’s a beautiful day out.” She approached the child and tried to look reassuring. “How would you like to go for a walk before dinner?”
The toddler glanced over, appeared to consider, then said uncertainly, “’Kay.”
“It’ll be fun,” Jessy promised. “We can take some bread and see if we can’t find some ducks to feed down at the lake.”
The child perked up, climbing to her feet with a sudden look of interest. “Duckies go quack-quack.”
“Yes, they do.” Jessy ejected the video, turned everything off and held out her hand. “You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?”
Chloe hesitated, then took a few steps and tentatively laid her soft little hand in Jessy’s. Looking up through her lashes, she nodded.
Jessy’s heart melted, while her resolve hardened. Don’t worry, baby. One way or another, whether he likes it or not, I’m going to chase those shadows from your daddy’s eyes. After all, as Shane himself had taught her, that was what friends were for.
She smiled down at his daughter. “Come on, kiddo. We’re going to have some fun. I promise.”
“Good morning,” Jessy said cheerfully.
She watched with distinct satisfaction as Shane rocked to a halt in the doorway that led from the hall into the kitchen. In the split second before his expression smoothed out, his dismay at finding her already up at such an early hour was obvious.
His lack of composure didn’t last long. “Good morning,” he returned brusquely. Resplendent in a crisp white shirt and a beautifully cut gray linen suit that set off his inky hair and his olive-toned skin to perfection, he came the rest of the way into the room. He set the morning newspaper on the breakfast bar. “What are you doing up?”
She gave a little shrug. “I heard you come in from your run, and since I was wide-awake, I decided I might as well get up and put the coffee on.”
“Huh.” He pulled out a stool, sat and opened the newspaper, effectively dismissing her.
So what else was new? she asked herself, struck once again by the immense change in him. It had been after midnight when he finally came home that first night, and he’d been gone again before seven the next morning, a pattern that had repeated itself in the three days since. Except for a photocopy of his schedule that he left her each morning, Jessy’s chief contact with him was by phone. As if to prove he wasn’t completely irresponsible, he called every day to ask how things were going.
She swallowed a rude sound and turned to watch the coffee as it slowly filled the pot. Although she hadn’t expected him to suddenly decide he was overjoyed by her presence, neither had she expected him to avoid his own home as if it were infested by the plague just because she was in it.
But he had. He was. And she’d had enough. After three days of thinking about it, she’d decided it was time to get tough.
In the nicest possible way, of course.
The coffeepot gave a last sputter, indicating it was done. She looked over at Shane. “The coffee’s ready. Would you like a cup?”
He was silent a moment, then glanced up. “Sure.”
She got a mug from the cupboard, filled it with coffee, added some creamer and set it down beside him.
“Thanks.” He went back to the paper.
“You’re welcome.” She took a moment to study him, taking in the firm line of his freshly shaven jaw, the inky blackness of his thick eyelashes, the latent sensuality of his mouth.
He shifted, raising the paper higher and she glanced away, feeling the oddest little ache. Giving herself a mental shake—what was that all about?—she crossed to the other counter and went back to the batter she’d been putting together when he walked in. She checked the recipe, added the last few ingredients, then picked up the bowl and a wire whisk and began to stir. After a few moments, she turned. Resting her backside against the counter, she glanced at Shane. “I hate to bother you,” she lied, “but I have a favor to ask.”
“Yeah? What?”
Although she couldn’t see anything except his hands and the top of his dark head, she sensed his sudden tension. “Well...I wondered if you’d mind if I got my table and chairs out of storage and brought them over. It’s not that I don’t like eating at the counter,” she explained. “It’s just that it’s the wrong height for Chloe’s high chair and meals would be so much easier if—”
“Jessy.” The paper came down and he regarded her impatiently. “You want a table? Fine. Call Robinson’s. Tell them to send something out and have them put it on my account.”
He had an account at the furniture store? She bit her lip, resisting an impish urge to ask him why, if that was the case, the house was emptier than a pauper’s wallet. While the old Shane would have come back with a smart remark of his own, she was pretty sure the new one would stiffen up like a starched sheet hung out in a hot breeze, and she wasn’t quite done with him yet.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Would it also be all right to get one of those rocker-recliners so I’d have someplace to read to Chloe?”
“Get whatever you want,” he said flatly.
“Okay. Great. I’ll do that.”
“Good.” As quickly as that, the paper went back up.
Thoughtfully she set the bowl down on the counter, got the margarine out of the fridge and the syrup out of the cupboard. She poured the latter into a measuring cup, then checked the light on the waffle iron, which indicated it wasn’t quite ready. Picking up her coffee mug, she once more faced the breakfast bar, “Shane?”
“What?”
“There’s something else I’d like to ask.” She smothered a smile as she heard him sigh a second before he lowered the paper again.
One straight black eyebrow slashed up in question. “What is it now?”
“How would you feel about painting Chloe’s room?”
He frowned. “What’s the matter with it the way it is now?”
“It’s just so...bland. I’d like to add some color, maybe do a wallpaper border, just...brighten things up. Make it more suitable for a small child.”
For a moment he looked as if he were going to balk. Just as quickly, however, his face smoothed out, returning to its usual indifferent mask. “Fine. Pick out the paint and I’ll get somebody in to do it.”
“Don’t be silly,” she protested. “I’ll take care of it. I like to paint.”
He shrugged. “Do whatever you want.”
She smiled at him sweetly. “Great. I’ll do it Saturday then—if you’re free to watch Chloe?”
His expression grew even more shuttered. “Sure.” He started to go back to the paper, then reconsidered. “Is there anything else?”
“Well... As a matter of fact...”
“What?”
“Would you like some breakfast?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
“Oh. Okay.”
With a rustle of newspaper, he returned to the day’s headlines.
Jessy didn’t say a word. On the contrary, she turned serenely around, set down her mug, flipped up the top of the waffle iron and poured in a puddle of batter. She replaced the top, picked up the syrup and put it in the microwave to warm.
In seconds the kitchen was filled with tantalizing aromas.
She pretended not to notice, just as she continued to ignore Shane. Instead she set a place for herself at the counter, poured herself a glass of milk and placed it, the margarine and the now-warm syrup within reach. Then she retrieved her waffle, put it on a plate and sat down. Settling her napkin in her lap, she picked up her knife and carefully buttered the warm, golden circle.
Two stools down, Shane had gone very still.
She reached for the syrup and slowly drizzled it across the waffle’s steaming surface. Then she cut off a bite-size piece and popped it into her mouth, unable to completely mask a soft sigh of pleasure at its sweet, buttery taste.
Very slowly, the paper came down. “You didn’t tell me you were fixing waffles,” Shane said brusquely.
“You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t think I had a waffle iron.”
“You don’t. You were a little shy on cookware, so I brought over some of my things.”
He gave her a long, indecipherable look, then deliberately laid down the paper, pushed back the stool and stood. “I’ve got to go,” he said curtly. He stalked out of the room.
“Have a nice day,” Jessy called after him. She calmly ate another bite, thinking it was too bad he was so pressed for time.
Waffles were his favorites.
Three
When Shane walked in the door after work Friday night, Jessy was curled up on the family room couch, reading a magazine.
She sat upright as he came into the room. Pushing her glossy mane of golden brown hair off her face, she sent him her usual friendly smile. “Hi.”
He tossed his keys onto the counter and loosened his tie with a jerk. “Hi, yourself.”
He realized he sounded surly, but he didn’t particularly care. The whole damn day had been horrible. He’d overslept and missed his morning run. The rain that had threatened for two days had commenced at exactly the same time he’d had a tire blow out on the freeway. When he finally arrived at the office, damp, disheveled and late for an important meeting, he’d learned that Grace, his secretary for the past three years, had fallen in the shower and broken both arms. Topping things off, a shipment meant for Minnesota had gone to Missouri, one of his major suppliers was having financial problems and the truckers’ union was making noise about a possible strike.
Now here he was, home at last Or at least, he thought it was his home, he amended, taking a swift look around. In the time since he’d left that morning, it appeared he’d acquired an oversize rocker-recliner, several occasional tables, a pair of table lamps and a richly patterned Persian rug for his family room, plus a sleek dinette set that now occupied a space next to the windows.
Following his gaze, Jessy said mildly, “The furniture came.”
“Yeah. I noticed.” He was in no mood for small talk. It was after eight, he had indigestion from the too-spicy pizza he’d eaten for dinner and he was dead-dog tired. All he wanted was to be left alone, to have a little quiet time to get his head together before the whole damn thing started all over again in the morning. Not that he expected her to care.
“You’re home late.” She drew up her legs and looped her arms around them.
“Yeah.” He’d gone by the hospital to take Grace some flowers and wound up spending more than an hour assuring her she didn’t have to worry about her job, the hospital bill, or anything else. “I guess I should have called.”
“No problem,” she said easily. “Have you had dinner?”
“Yeah.” He picked up the mail and began to sort through it.
She was silent a moment. “Tough day?”
“You could say that.”
“I’m sorry. It must be the rain. Chloe had a bad one, too, poor little thing. It wore her out. She was out like a light by seven-thirty.”
He set down the mail, which except for an invitation to one of his best customer’s wedding was mostly flyers and bills, and turned to face her. “Well, I’m not far behind her. I’m going to go for a short run, then turn in, okay?”
It wasn’t a question so much as a declaration of his need for space, but she nodded anyway, her eyes very blue in her tranquil face. “Fine by me. I’m going to finish this article and then watch a movie. Enjoy your run.” That said, she curled up, propped her head on one hand and went back to her magazine.
Shane remained where he was for a second, feeling off-kilter and not liking it. Turning on his heel, he started out of the room, only to grind to a halt halfway across the floor. Exasperated with himself, he slowly retraced his steps. “Listen,” he said without preamble, certain that the next few minutes were going to be about as pleasant as the rest of his day. “I almost forgot. I have to fly to Dallas tomorrow. One of my suppliers is having some cash flow problems. Can you handle things with Chloe?”
Jessy looked up, studied his face for all of two seconds and said, “Sure. Don’t worry about it.” She resumed reading.
He stared at her finely drawn profile. That was it? No muss, no fuss, no major upset? “Okay then,” he said, feeling inexplicably irritated.
She nodded but didn’t look up, and after a moment he turned and left the room, his annoyance growing with every step. He stopped briefly to look in on Chloe—the kid was flat on her back and snoring noisily—then changed out of his suit and into some sweats, and went for his run.
It was still light out, so he started out on the wide, well-maintained path that circled the lake. Later, he’d take one of the many offshoots and come back along the road to the house, but for now the wide vista of silvery water suited his mood.
For the first mile or two he tried not to think. He concentrated instead on the even ebb and flow of his breathing, the cool slide of the rain against his skin, the firm feel of the running path beneath his sneakered feet.
At some point, however, he began to brood about his exchange with Jessy. What was her problem, anyway? Why did she have to be so damn accommodating? It wasn’t normal—not for a female. She was so rational, so reasonable, so calm and sensible. She acted just like a guy.
Only she wasn’t a guy, he reminded himself impatiently. She was Jessy, the motherless little buddy he’d practically adopted back in high school. And for all her lack of pretension, her penchant for dressing in T-shirts and shorts, for going without makeup and wearing her hair simply, there had always been a kindness about her, a sensitivity to other people’s feelings, that was markedly feminine. So, too, was the way she’d always looked up to him, treating him as if he were some sort of paragon or, better yet, her own personal knight in shining armor who could do no wrong.
Shane grimaced. Now, that was a laugh. A real man wouldn’t care that the child he loved wasn’t truly his. He’d be able to get past his wife’s betrayal, to get on with his life instead of merely going through the motions—
He clamped down on his thoughts, his stomach twisting with the familiar self-disgust. He’d been over this ground so often he knew every futile twist and turn, every useless bump and bend. No matter how often he considered it, or how much he wished things were different, that he could be different, it changed nothing.
Nor did it help to address the situation with Jessy. As much as he hated to admit it, all the time he’d been telling himself she’d be good for Chloe, part of him had nevertheless been dreading the moment when she finally saw him for the sorry son of a bitch he really was.
Yet so far—despite his less-than-admirable demeanor—she’ d been nothing but warm and understanding. And she’d saved him a monumental hassle tonight when she’d agreed to stay with Chloe while he went to Dallas. Without her, he’d be back at the house calling childcare agencies, not out in the fresh air running off the day’s worries.
He considered the rest of the week. He had to concede that because of her he’d been able to come and go as he liked, instead of juggling sitters. And she was certainly easier to deal with than his mother, who had recently started nagging him about the way he was neglecting her granddaughter. Best of all, it seemed that he could trust Jess not to demand more than he was able to give.
He reluctantly conceded he ought to be grateful for her presence. But had he shown even the slightest appreciation? Hell no. Instead, ever since she’d moved in, he’d been expecting her to act like Marissa. He’d been waiting for her to demand his attention, to complain that he was never home, to sulk or pout or cry.
But she hadn’t—for which he was damn grateful.
He sighed. Under the circumstances, he supposed it wouldn’t kill him to act a little more civil. He could still keep his distance. It didn’t mean he had to spend any time with her or let down his guard.
For some reason, the decision lifted his spirits. He picked up his pace, pounding out the next few hundred yards, then slowed as he approached the house. By the time he’d showered and thrown on a T-shirt and jeans, he felt nominally better.
It wasn’t until he came down the hall to put his dirty clothes in the utility room that he heard the opening theme from Star Wars. Surprised, he stopped in the doorway, sure he must be mistaken until he glanced across the room and saw the opening credits unrolling on the TV screen. He was swept by a wave of nostalgia; the George Lucas saga had been his absolute favorite as a teenager.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before he admitted he was hooked. He edged into the room and watched for a while longer, then set down his laundry, walked over and finally sat gingerly down in his new recliner. He felt Jessy glance over at him briefly, but she didn’t say anything.
During a lull in the action, he cleared his throat. “Jess?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for staying with Chloe this weekend.”
It was a moment before she spoke. “No problem. You want some popcorn?”
“Sure.”
As she passed him the bowl and he realized that was the end of it, something inside of him that had been wound tight began to uncoil just a little.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said suddenly. “Bailey called. He said he’d give you a call in the office next week.”
“Yeah?” Although not as close as they’d once been, he and Jessy’s brother still talked periodically. In addition to their friendship, Bailey had an endorsement contract with TopLine, thanks to his status as one of the NFL’s premier quarterbacks. As usual for this time of year, he was at summer camp with the rest of the Florida Falcons. “How’s he holding up?”
Jessy’s teeth flashed briefly in the dim light. “He sounded beat. He says the younger players have been giving him a pretty hard time. I think he finally means it about this being his last season.”
“Maybe.” Shane put up the recliner’s foot rest and leaned back. “Although what he’s going to do afterward...” His voice trailed off as his gaze met Jessy’s. There was no need to say more, since they both knew how tied to football Bailey’s identity was—and how difficult it was going to be for him when he finally gave it up.
“He’ll be all right,” Jessy said firmly. Her face suddenly lit with a quick, impish grin. “Everyone has to grow up sometime. Even Bailey.”
To his surprise, Shane started to smile back, then abruptly caught himself. He forced himself to speak coolly. “Yeah, I suppose.” After all, he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression; he might be glad for her help with Chloe, appreciative of her easy-going manner, even impressed with her insight when it came to Bailey, but that was it.
Just as he was no longer the person she remembered, their youthful camaraderie was also over, and the sooner she accepted that, the better off they’d both be.
Yet even as he turned his attention to the movie and forced himself to concentrate on a galaxy far, far away, he couldn’t stop the errant thought that if he had to have somebody around, he could have done a whole lot worse than Jessy Ross.
“Dada!”
Shane lifted his suitcase out of the Explorer’s trunk. Setting it on the driveway next to his briefcase, he twisted around at the sound of Chloe’s voice, surprised to see her emerge from the jogging path that led to the lake. She raced forward, her chubby little legs churning, and launched herself at him.
Short of letting her crash to the ground, he had no choice but to sweep her up and into his arms. Yet he’d no more lifted her up than he found he had a whole new problem as she promptly wrapped her arms around his neck in a stranglehold. “Hey, Chlo, take it easy,” he said, his voice muffled against her silky head.
Her response was to press a noisy kiss to his ear. He tensed, uncomfortable with the display of affection, only to have his attention diverted as a familiar feminine voice said wryly, “I think she missed you.”
He looked up and found Jessy standing at the edge of the pathway. For some reason, the sight of her gently amused face seemed to lessen the strain of the moment. “Yeah, I guess.”
She resumed walking, her long legs eating up the handful of yards between them as she crossed the narrow strip of lawn. Dressed in a pair of white shorts and a cocoa-colored tank top that brought out the gold tones in her hair and skin, she looked strong and healthy and vibrant. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks.”
“How did it go?”
He shrugged. “Okay.” He gave Chloe a cursory pat, then reached up and unsuccessfully tried to unpeel her arms from his neck. Swallowing a sigh, he settled on shifting her sideways, awkwardly holding her in the curve of one arm so he could reach down and grab his suitcase with the other.
When he straightened, he found Jessy watching him, her expression thoughtful. Catching him by surprise, she leaned close and laid her hand gently on Chloe’s back. “Hey, sweetie. Why don’t you show Daddy what you have?”
For a few seconds the toddler didn’t react Then, to his relief, she suddenly raised her head and let loose of his neck. Leaning back, she unexpectedly held up a water-filled plastic bag she had clutched in one small hand. “Isa goadpish, Dada,” she said.
He glanced from the bag, where a skinny little orange fish was doing its best to navigate the swirling, Chloeinduced currents, to her earnest little face and back again. “Nice.”
She looked excessively pleased. “Wudy gibbed it to me. Wudy has lotsa goadpishes.”
He looked inquiringly over at Jessy.
“Rudy Markovich,” she clarified, leaning over and picking up his briefcase. She started toward the front door and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to fall into step beside her. “He lives on the point—the big gray Colonial with the flag. He’s retired and into fish. Mostly tropical, but he also has a goldfish pond.”
He considered the healthy flush in her smooth cheeks. “I take it you guys have been for a walk?”
“That’s right.”
Leave it to Jessy to go for a stroll and wind up making a friend. With his luck, she’d be on a first-name basis with the entire neighborhood by the end of the summer, ruining any chance of totally reclaiming his privacy once she was gone.
Yet as he glanced down at Chloe’s glowing face, he had to admit his irritation suddenly seemed petty. Besides, what could he do? Ask Jessy to stay in the house with the blinds closed?
He could imagine her reaction to that.
With a caustic twist to his mouth, he murmured his thanks as she opened the door for him and they proceeded inside, continuing on into the living area after he’d set his suitcase in the hall.
He paused in the doorway, struck by how different the room looked. Part of it was due to the new furniture, no doubt. But there was also no denying that Jessy’s presence had brought an infusion of life and color to the place.
A fuzzy pink pastel baby blanket was draped over the back of the couch; a jumble of red, blue and green blocks were piled next to the entertainment center, and there was a pair of women’s sandals lying in front of a sliding glass door. There were three brilliantly hued fingerpaintings taped to the refrigerator; a half-dozen pillows in rainbow colors piled across one end of the couch, and a child’s yellow plastic pail sat on one end of the breakfast bar, filled to overflowing with a bouquet of summer flowers in crimson, maroon and magenta.
The lived-in look didn’t end there, either. Out on his formerly pristine deck, there was now a pair of patio chairs with electric blue cushions, a matching chaise longue and a bright turquoise wading pool. A trio of rubber ducks bobbed on the pool’s shallow surface, as did a hot pink beach ball, while a pair of red-and-white beach towels that had been tossed over the rail gently flapped in the breeze.
It looked like a home. And it smelled like one, too, thanks to the rich, tantalizing scent of roast beef that was wafting from the oven. Against his better judgment, he heard himself say, “Something smells good.”
Jessy gave a dismissive little shrug. “Pot roast.”
He glanced at her sharply. Like waffles and Star Wars, pot roast was one of his favorites and he was struck by the sudden thought that she was deliberately trying to please him. For an instant he felt uneasy, wondering what she wanted from him, and then he caught himself. After all, this was Jessy—not Marissa.
She headed into the kitchen. “So, were you able to get things straightened out with your supplier?”
“Yeah.” He turned to keep her in sight. “Things are still shaky, but we managed to come up with some interim financing.”
“That’s good.” She began to search through the cupboards. Finally finding what she wanted, she went up on tiptoe and lifted down a heavy glass bowl. He frowned as he found himself thinking that she wasn’t quite as skinny as he remembered.
She started toward the sink, only to hesitate as she glanced over and found him staring at her. “Shane? Is something wrong?”
He jerked his gaze from her fanny to her face. What the hell was wrong with him? he wondered impatiently. “No. No, I just—whers’d that come from?” Hoping he didn’t sound as lame as he felt, he indicated the bowl.
“Oh. It’s mine.” She turned on the tap and rinsed it out, then filled it with water and set it on the counter. “Chloe, sweetie, why don’t you come with me—” she walked around the end of the counter to where he stood and held out her arms “—and we’ll put your fishie in his new home.”
“’Kay.”
She leaned in and he handed her the toddler. For a moment before the transfer was complete, he could feel the soft pressure of her hand as it grazed his chest, and smell her light scent, a pleasing combination of soap and carnations.
She straightened and walked away. He stared after her. For a few disconcerting seconds there, he could have sworn he’d felt something that bore an alarming resemblance to...awareness.
Which was absolutely ridiculous. After all, this was Jessy he was talking about. Jessy, who was practically one of the guys, whom he’d known since she was nine, who—although her effort was misguided—was just trying to make his life a little easier by being here.
He must be more tired than he’d thought, he decided. Either that or he was just plain mistaken, and had simply confused a belated appreciation for her warmth and kindness toward Chloe for something more elemental.
Yeah. That must be it. Because thanks to what Marissa had done, he didn’t want to be aware of anybody. And even if he changed his mind in the future, the last person he’d consider would be Jess, who was too young and too naive to be expected to cope with the kind of baggage he carried.
At the counter, she helped Chloe lay the bag on the water, floating the fish the way that was proper. “There. Mr. Fish should be ready to go in the water after dinner.” She glanced over at him. “Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Good. Right after I clean up a certain person—” she tapped Chloe on her button nose “—I’ll fix the salad and then we’ll eat.”
He shook his head. “You two go ahead. I’m going to shower and change first.” Mistaken or not, he saw no reason to push it.
“No problem,” she said pleasantly. “We’ll wait. The truth is, I’d really appreciate the company. As much as I like the munchkin here—” she glanced affectionately at Chloe, then flashed him an apologetic smile “—I’ve had about all the baby talk at meals I can handle. I’d really like to hear about what’s going on in the outside world.”
He stared at her. Despite her light tone, there was the slightest note of strain in her face and he suddenly felt ashamed. Here she’d taken care of Chloe for nine days without a word of complaint, and he was too selfish to even stick around for a meal. “All right. Thanks. I won’t be long.” He headed for the hall.
“Hey, Shane?”
“What?”
“I’m glad you’re home.”
Remembering the vow he’d made four days ago to try to cut her some slack, he said gruffly, “Yeah. So am I.”
It wasn’t the truth, of course.
Yet for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t quite a lie, either.
Four
“Want wadey pool,” Chloe said plaintively.
“I know, sweetie.” Jessy slid the last batch of chocolate chip cookies into the oven. She straightened, then glanced over at the little girl who was standing at the sliding glass door, with her nose pressed against the glass, staring wistfully out at the inflatable pool Jessy had bought her. “I’ll take you out just as soon as the cookies are done. I promise.”
Chloe shook her head. “Want wadey pool,” she repeated, her little face the picture of entreaty.
“You don’t want to go out there now,” Jessy said patiently. “Daddy’s still mowing the lawn. It’s too noisy.”
As if to prove her point, Shane came striding up the slight slope from the lake, the steady hum of the lawn mower growing louder the closer he came to the house. The afternoon sunlight glittered on his ebony hair, while large patches of sweat dampened his pale gray T-shirt, molding it to the muscled planes of his chest and stomach.
“Jeddy?”
“Hmm?” She dragged her gaze away from Shane, perplexed as the hollow feeling that had plagued her off and on lately returned to the pit of her stomach. She must have eaten one too many dollops of cookie dough, she decided, as she met Chloe’s pleading gaze.
“Want wadey pool. Pwease?”
“In a little while, cupcake,” she said, even though she knew darn well it wouldn’t help. If there was one thing the past two weeks had taught her, it was that twoyear-olds had no sense of time, didn’t know what waiting meant, and that sweet, shy little Chloe could be absolutely relentless when she wanted something. True to her fairylike looks, the child didn’t cry or pitch fits; she simply repeated what she wanted, over and over again.
It was, Jessy thought wryly, the toddler equivalent of Chinese water torture. Drip, drip, drip, and pretty soon you were reduced to a quivering heap who would do anything for a few minutes of peace and quiet.
“Pwease, Jeddy?”
Her only hope was distraction. “Tell you what. Why don’t you take Belle and see if you can find her swimsuit? I think it’s in your room, in your toy basket. That way she can go with you in the pool when it’s time.”
The child’s eyes lit up. “Belle wim, too?”
“Yep. Belle can swim, too. But first she has to get out of her clothes and into her swimsuit like you.”
“’Kay!” Chloe took off like a shot, clearly happy to have something to do.
Jessy picked up the spatula and began transferring the cookies she’d already baked from a sheet of wax paper on the counter to a plate.
Things were looking up, she thought happily. Not only did she have a moment to herself, but Shane was actually home for a change. She had to admit that his gruff announcement that he planned to be around for most of the weekend, made while they were watching the second Star Wars movie last night, had caught her by surprise. But it was a good kind of surprise—as was the recent improvement in his manner.
Ever since his return from Dallas, he’d seemed a little more forthcoming, a little more at ease, a lot less tense. Jessy wasn’t sure whether he’d simply become resigned to her presence or if he was actually beginning to accept that she was going to be his friend no matter what he said or did, but she was certainly relieved. For a while there she’d begun to think she was kidding herself by thinking she could improve his situation.
She gave a start as the buzzer on the oven rang, jolting her from her reverie. She turned it off, picked up a hot pad and opened the oven. The room seemed oddly quiet until it dawned on her that she could no longer hear the lawn mower. Shane must be done, she decided, setting the cookie sheet on top of the stove.

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