“Come on, Candy! I brought breakfast and the groceries are getting heavy!”
Pulse pounding, palms sweating, Candy licked her lips. Opening the door, she averted her gaze, scared to death Jake could tell just by looking at her exactly what she’d been thinking.
“Morning, gorgeous. Mmm, it sure smells better in here than it did last night with all those corn dogs flaming. Miss me?” He kissed her on the forehead before strolling in. Even worse, it wasn’t groceries he carried, but the most adorable pink-cheeked, blue-eyed baby she’d ever seen.
Her heart lurched.
“Bonnie,” he said, turning the infant away from his chest and toward her. “Meet Candy. Hopefully, she’ll agree to be your temporary mom.” To Candy he said, “Wanna hold her?”
“Uh, no thanks.” Arms crossed, she shook her head—just in case there was something about her verbal message he hadn’t understood. Even from a good two feet away, she detected distinctly disturbing baby scents. Baby lotion, baby shampoo, baby powder—even Bonnie’s ruffled pink dress sported the annoyingly pleasant scent of laundry detergent. From a safe distance—say, ten feet—all of those smells were nice enough, but up close and personal? No. Couldn’t happen.
Except for that one time you’ve never told anyone about.
Yes, but I’ve already established the fact that an incident like that will never happen again!
Candy knew better. Babies were toxic to her system, and if she wasn’t careful, she might end up suffering some kind of meltdown. Frowning, she said, “Have you ever heard of picking up a phone?”
He grinned. “I couldn’t remember the number.”
“Lonesome does have phone books.”
“Yeah, but lucky for me, it also has rental cars, so I figured, what the hey? I might as well drive over.”
“Sure. Why not.”
“Great. I’m glad you’re happy to see us. Here,” he said, thrusting out the baby. “Take her while I carry in the grub.”
“Jake, I—” Too late, the infant was already in her arms.
“Abba, blabba—goo!” The tiny creature giggled.
Wow. Oh, wow.
To relieve tension, Candy would have ordinarily twirled a couple hundred hanks of hair, but seeing how at the moment her hands were kind of full, all she could do was stare at the wide open, porcelain-blue gaze staring at her.
“So,” she said. “You’re Bonnie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Bzzzzz.” A few bubbles escaped lips so perfectly round and sweet, they resembled a big, fat cherry plopped into the midst of Bonnie’s whipped-cream-smooth complexion.
The child gave a few sharp kicks before, with a juicy sigh, snuggling against Candy’s breasts.
Over her years spent working in a candy store, Candy had been coerced into holding her share of babies, but somehow, knowing this was Jake’s baby—even if by horrible tragedy as opposed to her being of his flesh and blood—made the experience different.
Better, in a terrifying way.
“Jake!” she hollered out the door. “Hurry!”
“What’s the problem?” he called, just the top of his heartstoppingly handsome mug visible above the paper sacks with Gregg’s Grocery emblazoned across the side.
Candy peered at the angel resting her cheek on her left breast. Problem? Gee, where do I start? “Uh, well, I think—”
“How cute. I think that means she likes you.”
“Yes, well…”
“You two hang out while I cook.”
“But I really…”
He’d shut the front door and headed for the kitchen.
“…don’t think this is going to work.” On her own again with Bonnie, Candy made a beeline for the kitchen. “Come on, Jake, you know about me and babies. Unless someone practically forces me to hold an infant down at the store, I always steer clear. My friends don’t even let me baby-sit.”
“Have you ever offered?” he asked, unloading bacon, eggs, cheese and…chili?
“Well…” Bonnie wriggled, repositioning herself so that tufts of her fluffy blond hair tickled Candy’s chin. A second later the baby’s mini hair bow slid to the floor. Candy knelt to pick it up, then, as efficiently as possible while working one-handed, she brushed the pink scrap against her flannel PJ bottoms. Wouldn’t do for Bonnie to get dust in her hair. Bow neatly back in place, Candy said, “I don’t suppose I ever volunteered, but then, everybody knows I’m no good with babies. I mean, besides my indestructible goldfish, I don’t even have any pets.”
“We had that kitten.”
“Dabney?” Heart aching from the memory of the tiny kitten, and the brief joy it had brought into their lives, Candy gave Bonnie a slight squeeze. “If I ever had another cat, I’d make her an inside cat. That way nothing could happen to it.”
She looked up to see Jake frown.
“What? You think a lawn service truck is going to come barreling through the living room?”
“No, it’s just that if there’s anything I’ve learned over the past month, it’s that nothing’s permanent. I mean, we can think it is, but jeez, when I remember how one minute Cal and Jenny were with me at a late dinner meeting, and the next…”
Cupping her palm to the curve of Bonnie’s head, Candy pressed her lips to impossibly sweet-smelling hair. Poor little thing.
“Guess what I’m getting at is that stuff happens. All we can do is live for the moment and hope for the best. So,” he said, looking as if he was making an effort to lighten his expression. “How about one of my world-famous, chili-cheese omelets?”
ALL THROUGH BREAKFAST, Jake watched.
Bonnie with Candy. Candy with Bonnie.
And all through breakfast, one thing became abundantly clear: Candy would make a great temporary mom. If only he could convince her of that fact.
In the brief time he’d been there, he’d already seen dozens of positive signs. Sure, at first, she’d been tentative about the whole baby thing, but no doubt about it, she was softening. The squeezes, the kisses pressed to Bonnie’s forehead, the unconscious yet meticulous care taken with repositioning her hair bow. Could the morning’s plans be proceeding any more smoothly?
In fact, things were running so smoothly, that in the living room, Bonnie had even sacked out in the portable playpen Jake had brought in from the car. Nothing—and he meant nothing—was more irresistible than sleeping Bonnie. She was so cute that he wouldn’t be surprised to find Miss I-Don’t-Care-For-Babies sneaking in there for a few quick rump pats!
“That was good,” Candy said, pushing her empty plate aside to make room for a cup of coffee. “At first, I have to admit to having doubts about your creation, but now I bow to your omelet prowess.”
“Thanks. I perfected these babies on the last company camp-a-thon.”
“Camp-a-thon?”
“Yeah. Me and the other board members get people to sponsor us to camp on the roof of Galaxy Sports headquarters. It’s grown into a pretty big deal—customers drive by, honking at us and dropping off cash donations. This year, we raised a bundle for Special Olympics.”
Grinning, Candy said, “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you don’t host simple, black-tie, fund-raising dinners like other business tycoons?”
“What’s the fun in that? I mean, come on,