With a Little T.L.C.. Teresa Southwick
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Liz didn’t really care what kind of relationship he had with the woman. That was his business. She had a program to run. “Now let me ask you a question.”
“All right.”
“Are you really here to be a cuddler?”
“Yes.” He pointed to the completed, orange volunteer form he’d handed her when he walked into her office. “It says so right there.”
“Holding the babies?” she confirmed.
He nodded. “That’s my intention.”
“I just wanted to make sure we were talking about the same thing.”
Because it was tough to believe he would be interested in spending time with infants. The last time she’d seen him in the hospital he’d hit on one of the nurses, dated then dumped her. Ninety-nine percent of her cuddlers were nurturing women who loved holding babies. The other one percent were retired men looking for something to fill their time. Then in walks Joe Marchetti, a proven playboy and flirt. What was she supposed to think when he plunked his volunteer paperwork down on her desk?
“Do you know what’s involved, Mr. Marchetti?”
“Joe, Miss…”
“I beg your pardon?”
He looked at the gold, upright name plate resting on her desk. “Liz,” he said, then met her gaze. “Call me Joe.”
With every ounce of willpower, fortitude and any other character attributes she possessed, she resisted the power of the charming look he leveled at her. “All right, Joe,” she said with more calm than she felt. “I’ll ask you again. Do you know what’s involved?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
She leaned back in her chair, a move designed to look casual, professional, and in control. The first two weren’t a problem. The last was tougher to pull off. “I wouldn’t think a man like you would be interested.”
“Define ‘a man like you.”’
“An upwardly mobile businessman, single and—” She hesitated.
“And?” he prompted, one dark, well-formed eyebrow lifting with the question.
She’d been about to say attractive. “And busy.”
“That’s all true. Although I’d like to know how you knew I was single.”
The flirtatious manner was a big clue, although why she couldn’t say. Another lesson from her past experience was that flirting wasn’t exclusive to single men. Married ones could philander at the drop of a hat or the swish of a skirt too.
But she merely answered, “You’re not wearing a wedding band.” Then she held up his filled-out volunteer form. “And it says so here.”
He glanced at the sheet of paper and then his hand. She followed his gaze and didn’t miss the fact that his fingers were long and there was a great deal of harnessed strength in his hand and wrist.
“I’m getting the impression that you doubt my sincerity. How can you judge me based on one meeting?”
“When your sister was a patient here,” she clarified.
“After my niece was born,” he added, rubbing his ear again.
She grinned, remembering the incident. “You were breaking the rules. Visiting hours were over.”
“A simple ‘please leave’ would have sufficed,” he said, feigning indignation. “You didn’t have to yank my ear off.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Aren’t we being a tad melodramatic?”
“Marchettis never do anything halfway. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Why would I need a warning?”
“Because you’re the nurse in charge of the cuddlers and I’m signing up to volunteer. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
“You think so?”
“Yes.”
“Look, Joe. This program isn’t fluff and feathers. Children need the best possible start in this cold, cruel world. Statistics prove that babies stimulated by touch gain weight faster.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“They cry less, have more even temperaments, sleep better and are more likely to calm and console themselves without intervention.”
“I understand.”
“People who aren’t touched much as children don’t touch much as adults and the cycle continues. The volunteers work with babies from at-risk families. This program is designed to break that cycle.”
“Hey, I’m a sure thing. I’m here to do my bit. You don’t have to convince me.”
“No. But we have to count on you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let me ask you something first,” she said.
“Okay. I’m all ears,” he said, rubbing the one she’d yanked.
Liz swallowed the smile that hovered, refusing to let his clever pun distract her. “Why do you want to be a cuddler?”
He looked thoughtful, as if remembering something. “After my niece was born and you bounced me out of my sister’s room, I wandered by the newborn nursery. It was just before they shut the curtains and your staff left them open a little longer for me.”
Considering his movie star good looks, Liz couldn’t blame them.
“I watched the volunteers holding the babies,” he continued. “And I talked to one of the nurses on duty that night who explained everything you just said. I was impressed,” he finished.
When he mentioned the nurse, Liz’s interest piqued. That was it. He was on the make and figured a hospital was a good place to meet women. She’d been burned like that before. What other reason could a guy like him have for being here?
“But if I remember rightly, your sister had her baby almost a year ago. As the saying goes, what took you so long?”
He shrugged. “Time got away from me.”
“So why now?”
A shadow crossed his face as he remembered. “My secretary gave birth recently, a very small baby. It turned out that she was a failure-to-thrive infant.”
“That’s rough,” Liz said, sincerely sympathetic. “What happened?”
“She’s doing okay now, but they came too close to losing her. It took extra attention and stimulation. Not to mention that I lost the best secretary I’ve ever had.”
“Really?”
“She quit because she didn’t have family to leave the child with and didn’t trust anyone else. I admire her commitment because they’ll have it tough financially. Anyway, the point is that after the birth, and during the extra time in the hospital, she couldn’t hold the baby twenty-four hours a day. The cuddlers filled in and made a difference. I decided there was no time like the present to do something worthwhile.”
“I’m glad the baby is doing well,” Liz said. “But think about this. We integrate our volunteers into the schedule. The nurses count on them to pick up the slack when it gets busy. You’ve seen firsthand how important it is that they show up.”
He frowned. “And your point is?”
“You’re a single guy with a busy social calendar.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because you look like—” She stopped. What was this need she had to keep tossing him crumbs