Vince came over to Sean, laid his hand on his son’s head. “Maybe I should stay here with him while you give him the injection.”
Tessa gazed up at him. “The sooner you get the shower running, the sooner he’ll breathe easier. Trust me, Vince.”
He realized he could trust Tessa, the doctor. And Tessa, the woman? She’d chosen her father’s protection over his but that didn’t matter right now. Only Sean mattered.
As he left the living room, he glanced back at Tessa. She was reaching into her bag, taking out a vial of medication.
He hadn’t prayed in a very long time. But he prayed now that Sean could fight this off and soon be well.
Chapter Four
Tessa sat on the closed commode in Vince’s bathroom, cooing to Sean and rocking him. Her hair was soft, fuzzy and damp from the steam, tendrils curling this way and that. Her clothes were damp, too.
Vince didn’t think she’d ever looked more beautiful.
His own shirt was sticking to his skin but he’d been so worried about Sean that he hardly noticed. The baby had stopped coughing and his wheezing didn’t sound as constricted.
“We can’t keep him in here much longer. I’ll run out of hot water. What then?”
“I don’t think we’ll need a trip to the emergency room. Can you go to the drugstore and buy a cool mist humidifier and distilled water? Also, Pedialyte. I want him to drink it so he doesn’t get dehydrated.”
Vince glanced at his watch. It was after nine but he knew the drugstore was open until midnight.
“Oh, and children’s acetaminophen if you don’t have any.”
“Are you going to stay in here until I get back?”
“If your hot water holds out,” she said with a small smile.
He was so tempted to wrap his arms around her and Sean, to tell her how grateful he was for her expertise, for coming when he knew she didn’t want to be here.
Instead, he said, “Thank you, Tessa.”
Her gaze locked onto his for a few seconds—a few seconds of awareness and memories and sizzling attraction that was still there.
But then she looked away and gazed down at Sean. “No thanks necessary.”
Her voice was a bit unsteady.
As Vince climbed into his SUV, he couldn’t keep from envisioning how Tessa had massaged Sean’s little chest and patted him softly on the back when she’d first taken him into the bathroom. She was so good with children.
And she’d never have any of her own.
Vince knew Walter McGuire had blamed him for everything that had happened, from the pregnancy to the quick marriage to the walk-up apartment he and Tessa had lived in, to the condition that had taken their baby and almost Tessa’s life, too. Over the years, Vince had wrestled with his own guilt and attempted to look over that span of time rationally, especially the pain that had come from Tessa choosing to go home with her father from the hospital, rather than with him. Everything that had come after had been born in that decision of hers. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, the pain from her choice still lodged in his heart.
He found what he needed in the drugstore and was home in twenty-five minutes. Home. It wasn’t home yet. Maybe it just needed pictures on the walls in the living room and a few rugs on the floor? That might help. But how long would he and Sean be staying here? If Sean had surgery, how long would recovery take?
Next week he might have that answer.
Now when Vince stepped into his house, something felt…different. Maybe it was the lingering scent of strawberries and vanilla from Tessa’s lotion or whatever she used. That day she’d come to the station, it had wrapped around him and twisted his gut. Or maybe the difference in the condo came from the sight of her medical bag sitting on his dinette table.
But then he was drawn to what really transformed his condo into a home rather than simply the place where he lived. The sound of Tessa’s lovely voice crooning to his son pierced his heart.
He never should have called her tonight. Yet Sean had needed her. What else could he have done?
His training in the Air Force and as a cop had taught him to walk silently unless he wanted to be heard. Setting his purchases quietly to the side of the computer on his desk in the corner of living room, he went down the hall to Sean’s room and stopped just outside the doorway. Tessa’s hair and blouse were still damp. She’d tossed a towel over the back of the rocker and had wrapped Sean in one.
Vince could see his son was sleeping as Tessa rocked and sang, “Baby close your eyes. Dream of puppy dogs and fireflies.”
He didn’t know the song and wondered if she’d made it up herself to sing to her little patients.
He knew he hadn’t made a sound. He’d hardly taken a breath. Yet she glanced up and spotted him as if some sixth sense had told her he was there.
“Is he asleep?” Vince asked though he’d already guessed the answer.
“Yes, he’s breathing easier. The little guy was tuckered out. He drank some apple juice for me. If he wakes up later, he might be sweated. See if he’ll take some of the Pedialyte.”
“Let me get the humidifier going and we’ll see if he’ll sleep in his crib.”
After Vince added the distilled water to the machine and plugged it in, Tessa asked, “Do you have something easy we can put on him so we don’t wake him?”
From the chest of drawers, Vince produced a nightshirt that buttoned down the front and was decorated with baseballs and bats. Tessa carefully unwrapped the towel. Vince slipped one little arm into the sleeve and carefully snuck it around Sean’s shoulders. When he did, the back of his hand grazed Tessa’s breast. She gave a quick inhale of air. They both froze.
He mumbled, “Sorry,” and managed to slip Sean’s good arm into the sleeve without awakening him. Vince’s big fingers fumbled on the snap buttons.
“Would you like me to fasten them?” Tessa asked softly.
He nodded, too close to her to shove his desire aside. He noticed Tessa’s fingers tremble as she fastened the bottom three snaps.
Lifting Sean from her arms, Vince wasn’t thinking about the past and regrets as he settled his son in his crib. The electricity between him and Tessa was alive now and it caught him in its grip. He turned on the night-light, then adjusted the baby monitor to the proper volume.
Tessa came over to stand beside him as he looked down at Sean. “He’s a wonderful little boy.”
Vince thought he heard a catch in her voice. “I should make a tape of that song you were singing for nights when I have trouble getting him to sleep.”
“It’s just something I made up for when I visit the newborns in the nursery.”
“You’re a woman of many talents.”
She smiled. “Believe me, songwriting isn’t one of them.”
He wouldn’t agree but didn’t argue with her. Standing so close to her, he could sense when she shivered. “You really should get out of that blouse. Let me get one of my shirts and I can run yours through the dryer.”
Tessa was never uncertain, but she looked unsure now. “I really should be going.”
“Mrs. Zappa made freshly squeezed orange juice this morning with the juicer. Can I tempt you?” The housekeeper at Arrowhead