With a Little T.L.C.. Teresa Southwick
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to look after the kids. But we lose way too many skilled and dedicated workers because they can’t find dependable, affordable nurturing people to watch their children. I already told you about my secretary.”
She nodded. “We have the same problem at the hospital.”
“It’s a domino effect. The babysitter doesn’t show up. Someone doesn’t come to work because they can’t leave their children unattended. I sympathize, but I have a business to run.” He studied her a moment. “In your business inadequate staffing could mean life and death.”
“A long shot. But, worst case scenario, definitely possible,” she agreed.
In his enthusiasm he angled his body toward her, causing their legs to brush. The contact sent a wave of warmth crashing through her. His excitement wasn’t all she’d noticed. And his boyish appeal was making it harder not to go there—to that place where she liked him. Before she could do that there had to be trust. That wasn’t going to happen.
“I’ve been reading up on the pros as well as the cons of child care,” he said.
“What have you found?” she asked, pleased that her voice sounded relatively normal.
“Leaving a baby or young child with someone other than a parent doesn’t have to be a negative. They can learn to interact with people other than their parents in a positive way. Very often other adults have something to offer a child that can make them a more well-rounded individual. They become accustomed to others and less shy.”
“I’m impressed, Joe.”
“Really?”
His pleased smile set off a chain reaction within her that was one part fear, three parts surrender. This was unacceptable.
“You bet,” she said. “When you set out to do something, you really scope out your objective.”
His grin slipped. “What does that mean?”
“Whatever your real purpose for volunteering, you’ve put major time and effort into it. Most guys aren’t so imaginative. ‘What’s your sign’ is as creative as they get.”
As soon as the words were out she wanted to call them back. He didn’t deserve that.
“Now I see.”
She didn’t know what he saw, but it didn’t make him want to do the dance of joy. Her words had extinguished the warmth and passionate animation from his eyes. The coldness there made her shiver. It also made her sad. Just a moment ago his lips were smiling and full—so much so that she couldn’t help wondering if they would be warm and soft against her own. Now his mouth pulled tight. Tense. Angry.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You still think I’m on the make.”
She didn’t bother to deny it. Game playing wasn’t her style. She’d learned to hate it. “It’s a reasonable assumption.”
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