“Like hell, I—”
“Gentlemen,” Tracy scolded in her teacher voice, and Cort jerked to attention. “Josh is getting sleepy. Could we save the bickering until after the crib is assembled?”
His pride took a kick in the kneecaps.
Patrick shrugged. “Sorry, Tracy, you know how it is to be the older sibling.”
“Yes, I do, but perhaps you should remember that Cort is now twenty-eight, not eight. If he needs something from you I’m sure he’s mature enough to ask for it.” The understanding in her gaze washed over him before she glanced toward the numerous boxes stacked in the den and kitchenette.
She stepped closer and touched his shoulder. His skin ignited, and her cinnamon scent filled his senses when he inhaled. “Cort, could you find clean pajamas for Josh? I’ll give him his bath while you two finish up.”
“Sure.” He searched a box until he found a pale-green one-piece thing. Tracy took it, and their fingers brushed. Damn, he needed sleep more than he thought if one touch could stimulate his heart into arrhythmia.
“Thanks,” she said as she passed. He thought she sounded a little winded. Probably from bouncing Josh on her hip. For such a little guy, the kid was heavy.
His gaze slid from her white T-shirt over her departing rear and then down her legs. He didn’t remember Tracy’s legs—or any part of her for that matter—looking that good. He glanced up and caught his brother smirking at him.
Patrick turned for the door leading to the outside stairs and called over his shoulder, “I need to get the toolbox from the truck.”
Cooing and splashing pulled Cort away from unpacking and led him to the bathroom. Tracy had Josh in the tub. The little tyke obviously liked Tracy bathing him. He didn’t enjoy it half as much when Cort washed him. Smart kid. Tracy wasn’t likely to let his slippery body squirm right out of her grip. He, on the other hand, thought the kid ought to come with handles and instructions.
“He loves the water,” Tracy said without turning away from her charge. Josh splashed her and she squealed. After one startled moment, Josh chortled and slapped both hands into the water sending droplets everywhere.
The ache in Cort’s heart intensified. He hadn’t been able to coax a smile from his son, let alone make him laugh out loud.
Josh deserved better.
He grabbed a hand towel from the rack and stepped into the room to blot the moisture from Tracy’s face. “I’d like it, too, if I had a pretty lady scrubbing my back.”
A flush stained her pale neck and cheeks. “Aren’t you supposed to be assembling the crib?”
“Patrick’s getting the tools from the truck. I thought I might learn something in Bath 101.” He lowered the toilet lid. It wasn’t until after he sat down that he realized the room wasn’t big enough for two—three if you counted the squirt. His knees bracketed Tracy, and his mind took an X-rated detour. Unless he wanted to embarrass himself, now was not the time to fantasize about Tracy on her knees in front of him.
He blew out a slow breath and focused on her hair. She’d tortured it into that tight twist again, and it looked like only one pin held it in place. The urge to pull the pin and see the strands tumble over her shoulders nearly overwhelmed him. He twisted the towel in his hands.
He’d liked her hair long, and so did Josh. His son’s tiny fingers had played with the length of Tracy’s braid yesterday while she changed his diaper. He wouldn’t mind burying his own hands in the shiny strands to see if they were as soft as they looked.
He plucked at the collar of his knit shirt. The heat and humidity of the bathroom were getting to him. “You’re good with kids, and it’s clear you like them. Why don’t you have a houseful of your own by now?”
“I spent my childhood mothering my brothers and sisters. It’s time to put myself first. Kids aren’t a part of my plan.”
He wondered if his brothers had ever resented having to baby-sit him. Brand, Patrick and Caleb had been more like parents to him than his own father. He didn’t remember his mother. She’d left when he was two.
Josh wouldn’t remember his mother, either.
He shoved aside the sobering thought. “Do you put yourself first? From what Libby said, it sounds like you’re still combining the roles of platoon commander and Mother Teresa.”
“Libby talks too much. Grab that towel and take this wiggly fella.” She lifted Josh out of the water and turned.
The wet fabric of Tracy’s shirt clung to the lacy bra and the peachy skin underneath, distracting him from the chore she’d assigned him. His abdomen tightened. He sucked a deep breath to clear his head. Tracy’s sweet scent mingled with the baby bath soap to short-circuit a few of his brain cells.
“Cort?” She sounded breathless.
He snatched up the towel and snapped it open. Tracy pushed Josh into his arms, and her fingertips grazed his chest. He flinched. The woman packed the electric charge of a defibrillator, and every time she touched him his heart took a jolt. He bundled Josh in the towel, terrified he’d drop him.
“Cort, relax. Your tension transfers to him.” She kneaded his tense biceps, and other parts of his body tensed.
Sure enough, Josh’s smile vanished and his lip quivered. Cort couldn’t have been happier to hear Patrick’s boots on the outside stairs. He passed Josh back to Tracy, and his knuckles inadvertently brushed her breast.
She gasped, and their gazes locked.
He hated the wariness in her caramel-colored eyes. He swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Excuse me.”
Seducing Tracy was not part of his plan. He’d be in Texas less than three months, and Tracy deserved more than a quick roll in the hay. That was all he had to give. Even if he were staying longer, he wasn’t fool enough to offer another woman the opportunity to wipe her feet on his heart. “I’ll call when his crib’s ready.”
He hustled out of the tiny bathroom. What was the matter with him? It had to be the sheer terror over being responsible for Josh, causing the tension in his gut and making his brow sweat.
He feared he would bungle being a single father as badly as his dad had—only Josh didn’t have older brothers to pick up the slack.
Josh’s crying woke Tracy at two in the morning.
She lay in the darkness waiting for the baby to settle, but he seemed to grow more agitated as time passed. Before going to bed tonight she and Cort had agreed on a tentative schedule. This was Cort’s shift, but Josh had been crying for almost thirty minutes.
Throwing back the covers, she shrugged on her robe, climbed the inside stairs and knocked on the door. Cort didn’t answer. He couldn’t possibly sleep through the baby’s crying, could he? She turned the knob and, finding the door unlocked, stepped into the apartment.
Cort, wearing nothing but scrub pants riding low on his narrow hips, paced the den with Josh crying on his shoulder. Muscles rippled in Cort’s shoulders as he awkwardly patted and rubbed the baby’s stiff back.
She could have lived without the knowledge that he had dimples flanking the base of his spine. Adrenaline coursed through her blood, erasing the remnants of sleep from her brain and turning her insides to mush.
“It’s all right, kid. We’ll get the hang of this soon. Everybody says so. Just put up with me until then, okay?”
Josh’s piercing wail jerked her out of her hormonal stupor. No wonder Cort hadn’t heard her knocking. Before she could speak he reached the end of the room, turned and stopped in his tracks when he spotted her across his living room. “Damn. I’m sorry we woke you.”
“You