With a Little T.L.C.. Teresa Southwick
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can’t believe no woman has snapped you up.”
He shrugged as he looked at the group of new mothers. “All of you are already taken.”
Then he was alone with Liz. She was looking at him strangely. “That was an interesting experience.”
“Interesting good, or bad?” he asked crossing one ankle over the other as he leaned back against one of the gray plastic chairs.
“I’d have to say good,” she answered slowly.
“You don’t sound convinced. I think it was clear that they love me,” he said.
“Those women are so tired they would love Godzilla if he could give them a minute-and-a-half of peace and quiet.”
“Are you comparing me to the giant lizard who ate Tokyo?”
“If the shoe fits.” She laughed. “I’m kidding. There’s no question that you were wonderful tonight. A real hero.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Before she got a chance to cancel out her compliment with a zinger, his cell phone rang. He flipped it open and said, “Hello?”
“Joe? It’s Abby.”
“Oh, geez. Abby. We had a date, didn’t we?” He smacked his forehead. He’d agreed to meet her and help her pick out a wedding present for her fiancé, his brother Nick. “I’m about ten minutes away. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sorry, Ab. I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He flipped the phone closed and met Liz’s gaze. “That was my sister—”
She held up her hand. “Please don’t insult my intelligence by saying that whoever called was your sister. I can’t believe you forgot your date.”
“It’s not a date. It’s just Abby.”
“I can’t believe you have so little respect for her.” She shook her head. “And it is a date. By definition a date is a particular time to meet someone, usually of the opposite sex.”
He nodded. “All of that is true. But Abby is practically my sister.”
“Come on, Joe. This is me. I’ve already got your number. You don’t have to pretend. It won’t impress me. I’m immune.”
“I’m not trying to impress you. It’s the truth. I’m supposed to shop with Abby for—”
“Don’t. What you do on your own time is your business. The volunteer program is mine.” She headed for the door. “If you fulfill that obligation, I’ll be impressed.”
“Liz?”
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “What?”
He saluted. “I will be here bright and early for orientation. I’ll be the best darn cuddler you ever had.”
Chapter Two
Joe held up the tiny disposable diaper and turned it over and over, eyeing it from every angle. He slid Liz a look that was part mischief, part puzzled—and one hundred percent appealing. Her heart did a little skip and she tried hard to work up a good annoyance at him for causing it. She even resurrected her feelings from the other night when he’d tried to pass off the girl on the phone as his sister. She was only marginally successful in blunting the force of her attraction.
“Even a bag of microwave popcorn has directions that say ‘this side up,”’ he said. “How come there’s no arrow for top and bottom on this sucker?”
“A bright guy like yourself can figure it out. This is the end of orientation, the final exam. No cheating.”
Liz was alone with him in the newborn nursery. He was the only trainee volunteer, darn the luck. It would have helped if other trainee volunteers were there to take the edge off the one-on-one orientation.
Liz stood beside him, next to the changing table. In front of him was a battered rag doll for practicing. She wished she could say that the green wraparound lab coat Joe wore diminished his appeal, or blurred his heartthrob image. But no such luck.
He shook his head. “You never said anything about changing diapers when you were trying to discourage me from volunteering. The term ‘cuddling’ seems self-explanatory and does not encompass this.”
“Backing out already, Mr. Marchetti?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I never said I wanted you to quit.”
“Not in so many words,” he shot back. “But my work experience is with people. I’ve learned to read between the lines, decipher the body language. All the tricks of the trade.”
“That’s something we have in common then. I’ve got some people experience myself. And in mine, nine times out of ten, they’ll let you down.”
“Then I’ll just have to show you I’m a ten,” he said, giving her a boyishly mischievous look.
“Everyone needs a challenge. Mine is to make sure you can handle our little bundles of joy. The key word here is joy. You have to trust me on this. Cuddling is a more satisfying experience for everyone involved if the baby is clean and dry.”
He frowned at the diaper in his hand. “Then show me the blueprint for this.”
She grinned. “Sell it somewhere else. I might buy your performance if I hadn’t seen Act One the other night. You know more about this baby stuff than you’re letting on. The question is why you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”
Call her a reverse chauvinist, but she found it hard to believe that a man would volunteer to cuddle babies. Not only that, he’d shown up ten minutes ahead of schedule for his orientation. Since a part of her had expected him to let her down, she was still a little off-kilter from his early arrival.
As hard as it was to admit, Joe Marchetti was too good-looking, too charming, and too likable. She would have to be made of stone to keep from having feelings, more accurately a small, almost infinitesimal crush on the man. Her antidote—she would see his appeal and raise him a healthy dose of apathy. That meant she could neutralize the Marchetti toxin before it had a chance to work on her. She would bet her favorite stethoscope that he wasn’t used to women ignoring him. But ignore him she must.
She didn’t believe in happily ever after with any man, let alone a proven playboy like Mr. Marchetti. Her own father had been one. She would be a fool to fall for Joe’s shtick and get dumped, or go through years of misery like her mother had. Either way her heart would come out the loser.
“Pull the wool over your eyes?” He gave her a bogus look of smarting dignity. “I’m wounded, Liz. My incentive for being here is completely aboveboard. One would think that you think I have an ulterior motive.”
“Let’s just say I’m skeptical.” She smiled sweetly at him.
“Want to tell me why?”
She shook her head. “I want to wait and see.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“After all, you signed the volunteer contract. Item one—a commitment to actively participate in the Volunteer Program, for no less than three months, three hours per week.” She smiled and rubbed her hands together. “That means I have you, my pretty, for the next three months—no matter what.”
“Define ‘no matter what.”’
“Never you mind. Just do me proud. The life of the Cuddlers Program may be in the balance.”
“You got it.” Then he looked at the diaper again, and the doll used for training. “But if you ever tell anyone that I was playing with dolls, that contract won’t be worth the paper I signed it on.”
“Deal,”