From the white leather purse she still held slung over her shoulder, she withdrew a handwritten reference sheet, and then stood, handing it to him. “Sorry it’s not typed. I don’t have a computer.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he said, reading over the top of the infants’ heads. “All of these are in Chicago. You’re not from around here?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.” One of the babies he held in the crook of his arms wriggled and fussed.
“Want me to take her?”
“Sure.” He cast Emma a smile. “And to make things interesting, how about a wager?”
“Like what?” Leaving her purse alongside the sofa, she took the complaining infant.
“Like if you manage to quiet that little lady, I’ll give you the job.”
“And if I don’t succeed?” Emma asked over increased wails.
He winced. “Then I guess I’m back to playing Mister Mom.”
FOR JACE, the next few minutes were entirely too long. Why had he said such a stupid thing? Betting the woman for the job? He, more than anyone, realized how desperately he needed her—even if Vicki showed up one day, he wasn’t just handing over the girls. Maybe if she proved she’d gotten therapy, or something, he might agree to partial custody, but that’s it.
Lucky for him, before he worked up too big a worry over what might happen should Emma lose the bet, she’d already won, having rocked and cooed the girl back into an adorable, three-toothed grin.
“How’d you do that?” Jace asked, in awe of the woman’s skill.
“No biggee. She probably had a gas bubble. Just needed to be jiggled out.”
“Even so, let’s make it official. Want the job?”
“Is it mandatory that I live here?” Was he only imagining it, or was she turning up her slim nose at his modest digs? “It’s lovely, but…”
As her words trailed off, it occurred to him how awkward it could prove having the woman move in. When he’d placed his ad, he’d anticipated a grandmotherly type sharing his digs. Someone who could not only tame a couple of babies, but make gravy and cookies and tackle the laundry. Emma was striking. Long, black hair and sun-bronzed skin. High cheekbones. Eyes clear and ocean-blue. Her flowery yellow sundress was modest, but short enough in all the right places to reveal toned arms and legs. Pink-tipped toes peeked out from white sandals.
“I get it,” he said. “Tell you what. I’m not expecting night training for at least a couple of months. So, for now, how about you show up around sixish tomorrow morning, and we’ll go from there?”
“You don’t need me today?” Was he misreading her, or did the sudden downturn of her lips mean she was disappointed not to be staying? She’d cuddled the baby closer, as well. As if she didn’t want to let her go.
“Thanks, but I’ve already got leave for today, so I’m good.”
“Um…” She nibbled her lower lip. “Tomorrow will be fine.” Without meeting his gaze, she passed off the baby to him, then grabbed her purse.
“Do we need to talk about what I can pay you?”
Already at the door, she said, “Whatever you can afford will be fine.”
“Sure?”
She nodded, then hurried outside.
Okay, when it came to dealing with women, he’d never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but had he done or said something to tick this woman off?
He didn’t have the opportunity to find out, as she’d already crossed the yard, climbed into a black Volvo station wagon then, without so much as a wave, sped out of his life.
Seeing how Vicki had left much the same way, Jace was starting to get a complex.
Emma would return in the morning, wouldn’t she?
LEAVING her new employer’s house, Emma trembled so badly that she had to pull onto the side of the quiet road. Tears followed. Hot and messy. The kind that well up from deep inside and for her, take hours to subside fully.
Holding the baby girl had been both exhilarating and heartbreaking. Emma had never wanted to let her go. When Jace told her she wasn’t immediately needed, it didn’t compute. The rational part of her realized her baby was gone. But that other part…
Tightening her grip on the wheel, Emma forced a deep breath. She had to pull herself together. She had to use this opportunity to heal, to stop the slide deeper into her solitary existence. Was it wrong of her to want to prove her ex the fool she believed him to be? In blaming her for their son’s death, Rick had hurt her to her core. He’d transformed an already impossible situation into Emma’s own private hell.
For that, she’d forever hate him.
What she would not do was succumb to his accusations. In caring for Jace’s twins, she’d prove to herself that she’d been an amazing mother. Henry’s death had been an unexplainable mystery. Something she’d never truly understand. What she could grasp was the fact that this Marine needed her, and she needed his girls.
Chapter Three
“That’s the official tour,” Jace said. At six-fifteen Monday morning, after having been up most of the night trying to quiet tag-team-crying twins, he was hardly at his best. It was a good thing he was scheduled for maintenance rather than flight. “Questions?”
Emma shook her head.
In the makeshift nursery, she stood alongside the crib, smoothing her hand along the nearest infant’s back. Her smile was serene. Her posture relaxed. He’d had his doubts as to whether she’d even return, but she’d been five minutes early, bearing a canvas tote loaded with what she called supplies. When she hadn’t been looking, he’d sneaked a peak. Lullaby books, DVDs, plush toys and clothes.
“Your references checked out.”
“Oh?” As if in a trance, she didn’t look up from the crib. “That’s good.”
“All four were surprised, though, by your choice of work. You used to be in finance?”
She shrugged. “In another life.”
“You’ve got a Master’s from Stanford.”
“Your point being?”
“Aren’t you kind of overqualified?” It wasn’t in his nature to pry, but the woman would be spending a lot of alone time with his kids. “I mean, most of the women I interviewed had only been to high school.”
“Is there any shame in that?” The hard look she cast over her shoulder said she didn’t appreciate getting the third degree. He didn’t care.
“Not at all, and kindly don’t put words in my mouth. College doesn’t prove a man or woman’s worth. It’s what’s in here—” he patted his chest “—that counts.”
“I agree.”
Sharply exhaling, Jace glanced at the ceiling, then back to her. “Look, the last thing I want to do is argue with you, Em.”
“My name’s Emma. I don’t think we should get too informal.”
O-kay. “All I’m trying to say is that I found it surprising how well-educated you are. I can only afford to pay minimum wage, but you clearly deserve more.”
“Did I complain?”
“No, but…” What was it about him that seemed to draw impossible women like a magnet? He glanced at his watch. Twelve minutes to get to the hangar. “Never mind. Sorry I brought it up.”