Emergency: Parents Needed. Jessica Matthews
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what did you do to Breanna to keep her happy?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Nothing?”
“Not a thing,” she said. “I suspect she was simply reacting to your negative energy. Your nervousness and anxiety made her nervous and anxious and the only way she could express her emotions was by crying. As you can see, she’s fine.”
And she was. Breanna sat on the floor, cheerfully banging a wooden spoon on a plastic bowl and babbling.
“Wow. I’m amazed. Awed. And thoroughly intimidated.”
Her laugh did funny things to his chest and he wanted to hear the sound again and again. “In a few days,” she assured him, “you’ll be an old pro.”
He was skeptical. “If you say so.”
“Anyway, I took the liberty of going through Breanna’s things and made a list of what she’ll need. You might want to pick up these things today, unless you have a stash of disposable diapers and formula that I didn’t find.”
“No stash.” Joe took the list Maggie had made and read the items recorded in her handwriting. Man, he was in trouble if he thought her handwriting was sexy! Maybe it was time he started living up to his reputation, but surprisingly enough the handful—not hordes—of women he’d spent time with recently faded into insignificance when he compared them to Maggie.
“In that case, I’ve done all I can. I’ll just get out of your hair…”
The thought of her leaving him to handle the baby on his own was scarier than a rescue on a construction scaffold. He caught her arm, conscious of her soft skin. “No, wait.”
She paused. “Did you need something else?”
Hell, yes, he needed something else! He needed Maggie to stay with him, to be his safety net. Knowing that he wasn’t Breanna’s sole caretaker had done wonders for his peace of mind. The sensation of drowning because he was in over his head had eased and he wasn’t eager for that suffocating feeling to return. It would, just as soon as she walked out the door.
“I’d hoped you could spend the day with us,” he admitted. “Between your list and my plan to pick up Breanna’s furniture at her mother’s apartment, an extra pair of hands would be nice.” He flashed her his most pleading expression, hoping she couldn’t resist.
“I haven’t gone home since I left work,” she pointed out. “I’m still wearing my blues, for pete’s sake. I’d really like to change into something else.”
He ran his gaze over her, noticing as he had on days past how well she filled out the unisex department-issue clothing. The good thing about the blue uniform was that it only hinted at what it hid while street clothing usually did not. As she’d mentioned it, though, he wouldn’t mind seeing her in an outfit that she had chosen. Jeans, a skirt, a form-fitting T-shirt that clung to her curves all came to mind…Suddenly, giving her time to change clothes seemed like a wonderful idea.
“Not a problem. We’ll follow you home and then leave from your place.” He sounded overeager, even to his own ears. “Unless you have plans? Then we can come over later.”
“No specific plans,” she said slowly. “At least, nothing that can’t wait a few hours.”
Relief filled him as he grabbed her hand with both of his and squeezed. “Thanks, Maggie. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re…you’re welcome.”
She sounded breathless, as if she wasn’t quite sure of what to make of his impulsive yet enthusiastic gesture.
He wasn’t certain either, but the sensation of her palm against his and the strength in her fingers that belied the fine bone structure coalesced into a desire to pull her into his arms and hold her tightly against him.
However, patience and restraint were lessons he’d learned and things he practiced since he’d been a child. To ignore those lessons was asking for trouble, but he was also a strong believer in taking an opportunity as it presented itself.
Reluctantly, he released her hand. “Shall we go?”
Ten minutes later, he and Breanna walked into Maggie’s house and he was instantly struck by how perfectly suited Maggie was for the task facing him. Her home was cozy and welcoming, with its framed pencil sketches and watercolors on the walls, the large throw pillows and fuzzy afghans hanging from an oak quilt rack. The house was neat and tidy, but it was obvious that everything inside had been selected for comfort rather than style. It was a house in which a person could kick back and relax, a house with a peaceful, contented atmosphere.
In less time than he expected, Maggie returned from her bedroom to rejoin him in the living room. She looked different, almost unrecognizable, and his inner peace shifted to purely masculine interest.
Her uniform had always told him that she was just “one of the guys”. However, as she stood before him in street clothes, he saw her in an entirely new light.
Her faded and soft-from-numerous-washings denim jeans hugged her slim hips and long legs. The lime green V-neck T-shirt clung to her torso and revealed a modest amount of cleavage. A pair of sandals showed off red-painted nails and a silver ring on her second toe.
To think all this had been hiding under the regulation light blue shirt and utilitarian navy blue pants! Oh, the unisex cut of the clothing hadn’t completely disguised what lay underneath; her feminine shape had filled the fabric in ways that the rest of the crew couldn’t, but he’d had no idea just how mouth-watering her form really was.
Or maybe it was simply a case of knowing she was beyond his reach, so he’d never let himself imagine…but now, uniform or not, he’d never look at her the same way again.
Chapter Three
THEY passed the drive to Dee’s house in silence. Maggie knew Joe wasn’t the talkative sort, so she didn’t find his lack of conversation unusual. He maintained his usual calm, stoic expression as if he didn’t consider this more important than any other errand, but as she studied him unobtrusively—he couldn’t be that unmoved by their tasks or the reason behind them, could he?—she soon found several chinks in his armor.
His mouth had a pinched quality and his eyes, when he accidentally met her gaze, appeared positively haunted. His shoulders seemed permanently squared, as if he needed a military posture to maintain his composure. Strangely enough, knowing that he wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared only made her more sympathetic toward him.
Fortunately, Dee’s neighbor and Breanna’s old babysitter, Hannah Lightner, was at home, so she looked after the toddler while Maggie and Joe let themselves into Dee’s apartment.
The place was eerily quiet, as if it were mourning its missing occupant. Stop being fanciful, she scolded herself. It’s only four walls.
But, walls or not, the spirit of Dee seemed to hover overhead, especially when Maggie entered the bedroom and saw a pile of green silk—a nightgown—lying on the bed. Joe must have sensed it too because for the first time since they’d arrived, he looked uneasy. Then again, perhaps coming here only emphasized the new set of responsibilities that had landed on his shoulders without warning or preparation.
Feeling as if she was intruding on his private moment, Maggie headed to the baby’s bedroom. Joe followed on her heels, as if he didn’t want to be left alone with his memories.
“What should we load first?” she asked, determined to be as upbeat as possible in the face of his somber mood.
“The crib, I’d guess. I’ll get my toolbox from the truck while you pack Breanna’s clothes.”
Within an hour, everything from the crib to the changing table to a stroller and clothing were stacked in the back of Joe’s truck. “We’ll