Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Copyright

Clint Had Daisy Nestled On His
Broad Shoulder.

His deep, warm voice lulled Jessie as he hummed to the baby. The tune sounded like a combination of “Baa-baa Black Sheep” and “New York, New York.” Jessie couldn’t quite make it out, but that made no difference. He was quite a sight. So handsome and strong, so intoxicatingly masculine, and yet so gentle and tender to the precious package in his arms.

Jessie allowed herself to fantasize for just an instant that all her wishes had come true. She had woken up to the kind of Christmas morning she had dreamed about—both Daisy and Clint belonged to her…

And she belonged to them.

Dear Reader,

Happy holidays from the staff at Silhouette Desire! As you can see by the special cover treatment this month, these books are our holiday gifts to you. And each and every story is so wonderful that I know you’ll want to buy extras to give to your friends! We begin with Jackie Merritt’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Montana Christmas, which is the conclusion of her spectacula. MADE IN MONTANA series. The fun continues with Instant Dad, the final installment in Raye Morgan’s popular series THE BABY SHOWER. Suzannah Davis’s Gabriel’s Bride is a classic—and sensuous—love story you’re sure to love. And Anne Eames’s delightful writing style is highlighted to perfection in Christmas Elopement. For a story that will make you feel all the warmth and goodwill of the holiday season, don’t miss Kate Little’s Jingle Bell Baby.

And Susan Connell begins a new miniseries—THE GIRLS MOST LIKELY TO…—about three former high school friends who are now all grown up in Rebel’s Spirit. Look for upcoming books in the series in 1997.

Happy holidays and happy reading from

AND THE STAFF OF SILHOUETTE DESIRE

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Jingle Bell Baby
Kate Little

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KATE LITTLE

claims to have a lot of experience with romance—”The fictional kind, that is,” she is quick to clarify. She has been both an author and an editor of romantic fiction for over fifteen years. She believes that a good romance will make the reader experience all the tension, thrills and agony of falling madly, deeply and wildly in love. She enjoys watching the characters in her books go crazy for each other, but hates to see the blissful couples disappear when it’s time for them to live happily ever after. In addition to writing romance novels, Kate also writes fiction and nonfiction for young adults. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband and daughter.

To Spencer, my “real life” romance hero and to our precious “Kate Little.”

One

Jessica yanked another tissue from the box on her desk, dabbed her eyes, then soundly smacked the side of the old portable TV to clear the static. She didn’t know why she kept watching this darn old movie. It must have been the fifth time since Thanksgiving and it still made her weepy. A person would think a person spending Christmas Eve alone would know better.

“Bet I could lip synch the entire script by now,” she muttered. “Bells ring. Angels get their wings. Everyone in Bedford Falls lives happily ever after…”

On the small screen a young, smooth-cheeked Jimmy Stewart swooped his daughter up with one arm and with his other, hugged his adoring wife. All around them, a circle of friends and family smiled and sighed, radiating love and holiday cheer..

Jessica sniffed into a tissue as the theme music rose up and the happy scene faded.

The picture suddenly changed to a commercial, a homespun production featuring a local used-car dealer dressed as Santa, ho-hoing his way around a snowy car lot.

As Jessica snapped off the set, she heard the bells on the entrance to the café jingle, announcing the arrival of a late customer.

A very late customer. And the only one so far tonight. She wiped her eyes with another tissue and quickly smoothed back her hair. A few reddish gold curls escaped from her lopsided, upswept hairdo and she pushed them behind her ears.

Whoever was stopping by so late had better be satisfied with nothing more than coffee. Make that coffee to go. She didn’t have the energy to start messing up the kitchen, not at midnight, when she should have flipped the Closed sign in the window an hour ago. And she would have, too, if that ridiculous movie hadn’t distracted her. And if she’d had somewhere to go tonight, or someone to go to…

“Be right with you—” she called out as she left the small room that doubled as the café’s storeroom and office. She walked briskly through the big kitchen and pushed through the swinging doors into the seating area, grabbing the coffeepot en route in a gesture that had become total reflex.

She glanced around, all set to explain that the menu was extremely limited. But the dining area, gaily decorated with lights and pine garlands, was empty. She looked around twice to make sure. Whoever had come in had left. Maybe over the TV she hadn’t heard them enter, and the bells had signaled their exit?

Then she saw it—a large wicker laundry basket sat smack in the middle of the counter. Right between the cash register and a stainless-steel napkin dispenser. A plaid woolen blanket stuck out of the top. What in the world—was this some kind of joke? Jessica put the coffeepot on the counter and looked around the dining area again, this time peering in the wooden phone booth and then out through the front window at Hope Springs’ desolate Main Street.

The snow that had started hours ago now fell fast and thick. The town’s Main Street, with its old-fashioned storefronts, holiday decorations and cast-iron streetlights, looked like a scene that had been lifted right off a Christmas card.

“Not a creature was stirring,” she whispered to herself, turning back to look at the basket. “Not even a—”

Her breath caught in her throat as a small white hand popped up from the blanket. She blinked and shook her head. Then, just as unbelievably, a small bare foot emerged, as well. Hypnotized, Jessica watched as the tiny hand swatted the air, grabbed for the foot and finally caught it. Then a sound, an unmistakable baby gurgle of satisfaction, followed.

With her heart pounding wildly in her chest, Jessica ran over to the basket and swiftly flipped the blanket aside. A bit of powdery snow that had collected in the folds sprinkled down to the floor.

“Oh my Lord!” Jessie said out loud.

A baby stared up at her, looking serious and wide-eyed, still clutching its foot in one hand. Not quite believing that the infant was real, Jessica reached out and ran one fingertip gently along the baby’s smooth pink cheek. The baby tilted its chin against its chest, looking as if it might burst out crying. Then suddenly the baby smiled and clutched Jessie’s finger in a sticky grip.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jessie cooed. The baby’s smile widened in response.

The baby appeared to be wrapped in about three flannel receiving blankets that were now bunched around its middle. Jessica worked her way through the blankets and found that the baby was dressed in nothing more than a thin and stained pink-and-white nightgown. She reached into the basket and pulled the baby out, holding its small warm body close to her chest. “Where did you come from, little angel? Huh?”

The baby put a fist in its mouth, then rested its head against Jessica’s shoulder. Golden curls rubbed against her cheek and Jessie thought she’d never felt anything so soft and fine. A mixture of baby lotion, formula and some other subtle, elusive perfume mingled in a scent that was distinctly baby. Jessica took a rich, intoxicating lungful and felt her heart clutch. Yes, there was indeed a lump of genuine, delectable babyhood in her arms. Pink and white and sweet as spun sugar. A lamb. A dove. A real live baby. Holding the baby to her chest in a firm but gentle embrace, she rocked from side to side, quieting the baby’s soft whimpers.

“You’re okay, kid. You’re okay with me, little sweet potato,” Jessie whispered.

The blankets had been dragged out of the basket and now Jessica could see that under the cushy bed the basket held some baby clothes, a number of disposable diapers and a plastic bottle.

A scrap of paper taped to the basket caught her eye and she pulled it off. It was a note written on a piece of white writing paper, folded in half and addressed on the outside “To Whoever Finds This Baby.” Jessica sat down on one of the counter stools and propped the baby in the crook of her arm so she could read the note.

The handwriting was plain printing, clear and neat.

Please look after my baby. Her name is Daisy and she is real sweet. I can’t take care of her no more. 1 just can’t do it. Help her find a good home with people who love her and can buy her things, etc. I am sorry.

Jessie dropped the note on the counter and turned to look at the baby again. “Daisy,” she said out loud, smiling at the baby. The name suited her, with her big brown eyes, bright smile and halo of golden hair. “Hello, Daisy sweetheart. Hello, little girl. You must be hungry, I’ll bet. You poor little thing. You poor sweetheart.”

Daisy stared up at Jessica, wide-eyed and attentive. Jessie laughed at her. Then, without a second’s warning, the baby burst out crying.

“Oh, golly—oh, my.” Jessie bounced the little girl in her arms, not quite sure of what to do next. “Oh, now, sweetheart, please don’t cry. What’s the matter, honey? What is it, sweet?” she asked the baby. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?” The baby paused for a second and stared at her, taking in a lungful of air, then exhaled, screaming even louder.

Jessie willed herself to keep calm. Though she adored children and desperately wanted her own, the truth of the matter was that Jessie had little hands-on experience with kids, and no experience at all in caring for a small baby.

“Uh, let’s see now. What could it be? Maybe your diaper is wet. Is that it?” Jessica stuck a finger under the edge of the baby’s diaper and felt around. It felt perfectly dry. No luck there.

The baby’s cries were rising, becoming sharper and louder. “Okay, let’s see,” Jessie said out loud. “You must be hungry then. That must be it.”

The baby’s cries continued. Well, there’s only one way to find out if I’m on the right track. This little muffin sure can’t tell me, Jessie thought.

“Let’s fix you something to eat, Daisy. How about a nice bottle of milk? It might just be tonight’s special,” Jessie said as she whisked the baby back in her basket and, carrying it, headed for the kitchen.

Jessie set Daisy’s basket down on the big butcher-block table in the center of the kitchen. Then she held Daisy while she rummaged through the basket to find the bottle.

The ride from the dining room to the kitchen had temporarily quieted the baby. But now Daisy started to make small fretting sounds again, which Jessica guessed would soon build into a full-fledged wail. She hurried around the kitchen, grabbed a container of milk out of the refrigerator and began to fill the bottle. But how much should Daisy get? She had no idea. She filled the bottle to the top, figuring the little girl might be real hungry. But shouldn’t it be warmed up a little? Yes, that was right. You were supposed to warm it, Jessie decided. She took the bottle, emptied the contents into a pot and put in on the stove to warm.

Daisy was crying at the top of her lungs. Just about rattling the pots that were hanging over the stove, Jessie noticed. She tried to soothe her by rocking her basket, then picked her up and held her close and did a few laps around the butcher-block table, but to no avail.

“Your order is coming right up, ma’am. One bottle, room temperature. Sorry for the delay. Just happens to be the cook’s night off and the kitchen is a bit backed up,” she chattered to the baby in a bright, waitressy voice.

The baby stared at her. Her crying lessened to a soft whimper.

“We make a wonderful bottle of warm milk here, if I might say so myself,” Jessie continued. “Babies come from miles around for our bottles and I think you will truly enjoy it, ma’am.”

Finally the bottle seemed warm enough. Jessie placed Daisy back in her basket, then took bottle and baby back out to the dining room where she could sit down comfortably.

With Daisy settled in the crook of her arm, Jessica offered her the bottle. The baby clamped on and sucked with astounding force.

“This one is on the house, honey. And do let me know if there’s anything else I can bring you—”

Daisy’s face soon glazed over with a look of utter contentment. With her eyes half-closed, she reached up and held onto the bottle. Her little fingers rested trustingly on Jessie’s and Jessie gazed down at the tiny hand, feeling a strange and wonderful thrill. A little milk dribbled down Daisy’s chin and Jessie quickly wiped it away with a paper napkin.

She was just so darn cute, Jessie thought. How in the world had anyone had the heart to leave her?

While Daisy sucked away, Jessie guessed that calling the police and reporting she’d found a baby should be the next order of business. But then they would come and take Daisy away—wouldn’t they?

The bells on the door jingled again and Jessie quickly looked up. Drat, she’d forgotten to lock the door and turn the sign. Well, she’d just have to tell whoever it was that she was closed.

A man entered. A huge, snow-covered man who stood with his head bowed, cursing softly to himself as he shook the white powder from his thick dark hair and stomped his heavy boots. The gesture and the sheer size of him distracted Jessica from the baby for a moment.

“Sorry, but we’re closed,” Jessica shouted in his direction. “You can have a cup of coffee to go, but I have to warn you, it’s been sitting there all night and must taste like mud,” she added, looking up at him again.

He had finally picked up his head and stared at her with brilliant blue eyes, eyes the color of a cloudless summer sky. The expression on his face, however, was anything but cloudless—it could only be described as a dark scowl. His dark brown hair, wet and slicked back from his forehead, accentuated his bold features—a wide brow, high cheekbones and square jaw. He was in need of a shave, she noticed, and looked as if he’d had a hard night that wasn’t going to end anytime soon. But he was definitely one hell of a good-looking man. If you liked them tall, dark and difficult, that was. Which she certainly did not.

“Luckily I’m not here for the coffee,” he curtly informed her.

“Well, the rest room is back and to the right,” Jessie said, her attention still fixed on the baby. “Normally, it’s for paying customers only, but I suppose on a night like this it can’t be helped.”

“And I didn’t stop in to use the damn john,” he said, sounding more than a bit insulted, she thought, at her assumption. “I came in to tell you to close up. There’s a fullblown blizzard out there, lady, or haven’t you noticed?”

“I guess I didn’t,” Jessie replied truthfully. She glanced out the window. Yes, it was snowing buckets, but as a native New Englander, the sight of a little—well, a respectable amount of—snow didn’t throw her into a panic.

“Even if you’re not concerned for yourself,” he added in a disapproving tone, “you certainly ought to give a thought to your baby.”

“Listen, you—whoever you are—” Jessica began, ready to set the stranger straight.

The baby had sucked the bottle down to the very last drop and now made a loud sucking sound on the nipple. Jessica turned her attention back to Daisy and gently pulled the nipple from her mouth.

“Now, wasn’t that nice?” Jessie said to Daisy. “You were hungry, weren’t you?”

Totally satiated, the baby stretched across Jessie’s lap as floppy as a rag doll. Jessie wondered if she should just let her go to sleep. Wasn’t there something else you were supposed to do?

Jessica rocked Daisy in her arms, trying to remember what it was you were supposed to do after babies ate.

“Aren’t you going to burp her?” an annoying masculine voice asked. “She’ll just wake up screaming with a gas bubble later.”

That was it! They needed to be burped. Though grateful for the information, Jessie didn’t thank him.

“Of course I’m going to burp her,” Jessie said indignantly. She lifted Daisy up to her shoulder and began patting the baby’s back, as she had seen it done.

Why did people make such a big deal out of taking care of a baby? There didn’t seem to be all that much to it.

As she gave Daisy’s back gentle pats, she turned back to the object of her ire, who had now come closer and was standing right over her. At close range he was even bigger, more imposing…and even better looking.

“Who the hell are you, anyway? Barging into my place, sticking your two cents where it definitely doesn’t belong—”

“This is your place?”

“That’s right. Jessica Malone, owner, manager, tonight’s star waitress.” She introduced herself, her tone edged with sarcasm.

He did not look the least bit mollified.

“Sorry, I’m new in town. I haven’t gotten around to meeting all the local—” She could have sworn he was about to say “characters” but he caught himself just in time. “Business owners.”

He smiled at her, not exactly a warm smile. Still, it did something wonderful to his face, Jessie couldn’t help but notice, crinkling his eyes most attractively around the corners and causing an astoundingly deep dimple to crease one cheek. She would bet dollars to doughnuts—baked on the premises, of course—that this man didn’t smile often. Not from the heart, anyway.

“Apology accepted,” she said. “And you are—?”

“Clint Bradshaw, town’s new sheriff.” He flipped open one side of his jacket to show her his badge, pinned on a black crew-neck sweater that stretched across his muscular chest.

“Congratulations,” Jessica said dryly. She felt her gaze fix on the man’s rather impressi e physique. He caught her looking and smiled again, just the hint of a grin at the edge of his well-formed lips that said, “Gotcha!”

She turned away, feeling the color rise hotly in her cheeks.

It was a classic, nonverbal, male-female exchange, one of the “taking inventory” variety. Not that Jessie had been taking inventory of all that many men lately. But at twenty-nine years old, with one broken engagement under her belt and a few more “definite almosts” on her record, she certainly knew the difference between looking at a man and looking.

She’d been caught looking, and now, at this very moment, she could feel Sheriff Clinton Bradshaw looking at her. She shifted in her seat, patting Daisy a little faster and feeling suddenly self-conscious.

All right, she knew she was a sight tonight, her outfit chosen for comfort, not high fashion. The pink waitress uniform was borrowed for the night from one of her employees, Ivy—who was ten years younger, ten pounds thinner and a good three inches shorter. It fit Jessica like a short, tight minidress. Beneath the short-sleeved dress she wore a red, long-sleeved thermal undershirt. But if that wasn’t bad enough, Jessica had chosen to cover the damage with Aunt Claire’s old gray wool vest. The handknitted vest, a most valued piece of her wardrobe, now looked like the ragged coat of an old dog, she knew, but she couldn’t resist wearing it from time to time for purely sentimental reasons. Especially on a night like tonight, when she had felt so alone and down in the dumps.

Foreseeing the snow, she’d pulled on a pair of black tights and thick socks and her beat-up, clunky hiking boots that gave her legs a real Frankenstein look. Her long reddish gold hair had been swirled into a careless knot and secured with a large clip. The arrangement was now listing to one side of her head, the loose strands hanging in corkscrew curls.

Jessie unconsciously smoothed a few curls behind her ear as the moment of uncomfortable silence stretched on and she tried to think of something, anything, to say that would send this man on his merry way.

Daisy saved her, letting loose an amazingly loud burp.

Both of them stared wide-eyed at the baby for a moment, then Jessica started to laugh. She switched the baby from her shoulder to a sitting position on her lap. Daisy stared up at both of them, smiling and looking quite pleased with herself.

Clint didn’t join in her laughter, Jessie noticed. But he smiled just enough to cause that devastating dimple to make another brief appearance. Jessie met his gaze for a moment and felt her toes curl inside her hiking boots.

“Look, the point is,” he said, “I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d close up here and let me give you two a lift home. Your husband must be worried about you driving in this weather with a baby.”

His tone suggested that any man worth his salt would not only be worried about the situation, he would be parked at the doorstep, waiting to escort the two of them home safe and sound in a snug little snowplow.

Jessica stood up and cradled Daisy’s little head against her shoulder. The baby’s prize-winning burp seemed to have worn her out completely. Though her eyes were wideopen, Jessie had the feeling that if she played her cards right, the baby would drop off to sleep in no time. Without another ear-splitting crying jag, she hoped.

She rocked the baby from side to side, mulling over her situation. She knew that sooner or later she had to officially report that she’d found an abandoned baby. And quite conveniently out of the blue, here was a suitable “official” to report it to. Yet, Sheriff Bradshaw had assumed that Daisy was her baby and her heart told her to just let Sheriff Bradshaw continue on with his assumption.

It wasn’t as if she were telling him a lie; she just wasn’t telling him…everything. If she did tell him the truth, it would only set the official wheels in motion and part her and Daisy all the sooner. Daisy sighed, snuggling closer. Jessica brushed her chin against the baby’s unbelievably soft hair.

Couldn’t it all wait until tomorrow? Or even the next day? her heart whispered.

But Jessica hadn’t been raised that way. It was simply impossible for her to be anything less than completely and totally forthright. Although at times like tonight, she wished her nature would let her get away with just a little white lie here and there.

“No husband,” Jessie succinctly informed him, “so I don’t have to worry about anybody worrying.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his shoes for a moment, then back up at her. His expression was unreadable but his gaze was intense, making her lose track of her thoughts for a moment.

“Not only is there no husband, Sheriff, this isn’t even my baby.” Jessie took a breath and held Daisy a little closer in her arms. “I found her. That is, someone came in here a little while ago and left her. Right on the countertop in that laundry basket.”

“Left her? Are you sure?” His thick brows came together in a frown.

Clearly the good sheriff was having a hard time believing that anyone could be so unconscionable as to abandon a helpless little baby.

“Is anyone you know in the habit of misplacing their baby?” Jessie asked him. “Here, look at this. It was attached to the basket.”

Jessica picked up the note from the counter and handed it to him. His head bowed, he quickly read it.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He let his hand drop to his side, still clutching the note. “Have you reported this to anyone yet?”

“Well, I’m reporting it right now, to you, I guess,” Jessie told him.

He looked right into her eyes and for an instant she imagined that he had read every thought running through her head. I know you didn’t really want to tell me about this baby, did you? she could almost hear him saying aloud.

“You’d better tell me the whole story, from the beginning.”

“Well, let’s see.” She took a deep breath, deciding there were some details she’d just as soon edit out. Sobbing over that silly old movie, for one thing. “It was just about midnight, I guess. I was in the storeroom, catching up on some bookkeeping. The TV was on, too. I had just shut it off when I heard the bells on the front door ringing. Then I called out to whoever it was that I’d be right out—”

“There was no one else here?” he asked. Jessie nodded. “You don’t run this place by yourself, do you?”

“I gave everyone time off for the holiday. I—” She caught herself starting to disclose some more personal details. “I decided to keep the place open anyway.”

She didn’t have to tell him everything about herself, did she? Yes, she was alone here because she had given Sophie, Ivy and Charlie the night off. They all had somewhere to go and she didn’t. It was that simple.

Oh, she’d had invitations—more than she could remember refusing—from Sophie, who was making a huge dinner for her three children and eight grandchildren. From Charlie, who was going to his daughter’s home in Maryland. From Ivy, who was going to spend the holidays with her folks who lived just outside of town. And of course, from Aunt Claire, who was on the first leg of a world tour and had tried to persuade Jessie to join her in the Greek Islands. Claire was spending the holidays exploring ancient ruins, then heading off for India.

Jessie always had invitations from the good people who worked for her and all her friends in town. But somehow, this year, she didn’t feel like being part of someone else’s celebration. She didn’t feel like being the designated “favorite aunt,” the close friend of the family who sat just outside the golden family circle, looking on hungrily at other’s people’s happy marriages and growing children. Christmas was a time for family, and Jessie didn’t have one. And this year, she didn’t feel up to the challenge of wearing a happy face while, inside, she felt so keenly the lack of all she was missing.

Now, did Sheriff Bradshaw need to know any of this?

Not on her life, Jessie decided. Daisy, who was resting with her head propped against Jessie’s shoulder, gave a soft sigh. The baby felt relaxed and heavy, Jessie noticed, the milk in her belly taking effect.

“I think she’s about to fall asleep,” Jessie said, rocking slowly side to side.

Clint stared down at her solemnly and seemed suddenly lost in thought. Jessie was willing to wager that he wasn’t thinking about her or even about the baby. No, he was miles away in some very private place, a place that wasn’t a very happy one, either, Jessie would guess, for the expression that flashed across his face was one that Jessie could classify only as total emptiness. Sadness. Loss.

It transformed his strong features for an instant, then just as swiftly, it was gone and he looked at her again, wearing an expression that revealed no emotion at all.

“So you heard the door and came out here,” he said in a low tone, mindful of the baby. “Then what?”

“There was no one here when I came out. I saw the laundry basket on the countertop, and then, after a moment or so, I realized what—or rather, who—was in it.”

“And you didn’t see anyone around, out on the street or getting into a car?”

“No, didn’t see a soul.” Jessie shook her head. “There was just that note.”

Clint’s gaze rested on the baby, who was fidgeting a little as she tried to fall asleep, burrowing her head into Jessie’s shoulder.

“What kind of a mother would leave her little baby like that?” he asked, and the intensity in his blue eyes was frightening, Jessie thought.

“Oh, I don’t know…A young, scared, overwhelmed kind?” Jessie offered.

Maybe it was her Christmas spirit acting up, but Jessie didn’t want to judge whoever had left Daisy and that note too harshly. At the very least, whoever it was had thought to bring her somewhere safe and warm.

Had they known that Jessie would be alone tonight in the café? Had they chosen her specially to find Daisy?

Jessie felt the baby’s head drop against her shoulder and her breath go heavy and slow. “Are her eyes closed?” she whispered.

Clint stooped over to check. “Out like a light.”

He lifted his big hand toward the baby’s cheek, paused, then let his hand drop without actually touching her.

He straightened up and was all business again. “I suppose I’d better take her over to the hospital in Whitewood.”

“She doesn’t seem sick,” Jessie said. “She seems perfectly fine to me.”

“It’s routine procedure in a case like this. She needs to be examined and observed for twenty-four hours.”

“But Whitewood is over an hour’s drive, even in good weather,” Jessie pointed out. “Do you really have to take her there tonight?”

He stooped over and peered at the baby again. “Regulations—besides, what else can I do with her? Wrap her up and slip her under someone’s Christmas tree, maybe…”

His voice trailed off as he regarded Daisy’s angelic expression.

“I’ll take her,” Jessie piped up, trying to control the eagerness in her voice. “She’ll be just fine with me. I live only a few miles away and it will be safer driving her to my house than all the way over to Whitewood in this weather, don’t you think?”

“I suppose—” Clint frowned, trying to weigh his official responsibilities against the flat-out convenience of Jessie’s offer. The baby appeared to be perfectly healthy. There was no reason why she had to be rushed over to a hospital in a snowstorm. Which would certainly be putting the rules above consideration for the child’s safety and comfort. And as for taking a chance on Jessica Malone, she certainly seemed to handle the baby with a gentle touch. And he could always make a few calls tonight to check her out. Everyone seemed to know everyone in this town. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get a quick character check on Jessica Malone.

Clint considered himself a good judge of character; in his line of work he figured he had to be. He had made up his mind in about ten seconds about Jessie Malone. She was smart, stubborn and more than a little eccentric, he thought. For example, the way she was holed up all alone here, hiding out from the holiday.

But still unable to hide her good looks, he had to note, even in that getup, an outfit that made her look half chorus girl, half bag lady. When she’d stood up before and strolled around the place with the baby, he couldn’t help but notice the enticing sweep of her long lean legs, her slim waist and soft full breasts. That mop of red hair looked as if it led a life of its own, and those huge brown eyes were lethal.

But no man in sight. Now, he found that curious. Maybe the “too damned independent for her own good” type? She had a story to tell, he’d wager. Still, something about her got to him, from the first moment he’d set eyes on her. Clint told himself he’d just been away from female company for too long. And he didn’t plan on getting involved with any of the local citizens. Hell, he wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone. Besides, just one glance at the way she was cradling and cooing to that baby should be warning enough for him to steer clear.

He raked his hand through his dark hair and finally met Jessie’s questioning gaze. “You know how to take care of a baby, I guess, right?”

“Uh, sure I do. Nothing to it.” Jessie casually shrugged, trying not to disturb Daisy. “I’ve taken care of loads of babies. Loads.”

The sheriff met her gaze with his penetrating blue eyes and Jessie stared back at him, willing herself to look innocent and honest.

Okay, so she was lying a little. She was lying big-time, actually, but she just couldn’t help herself. Besides, she and the baby were getting along just fine, weren’t they? She’d already managed to feed her and burp her—with a little prompting—and had put her to sleep like a pro. As for diaper duty, she’d get to that in due time, she had no doubt. She could handle this, Jessie assured herself. For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t rocket science.

Besides, it would take a crowbar to pry the baby out of her arms. It felt so good holding her, Jessie thought, she wasn’t about to give her up without a struggle.

“I guess you can take her home tonight,” he said finally. “That seems the most sensible thing to do, under the circumstances.”

“Can I really? That’s just great,” Jessic said in a hushed tone.

The radiant look on her lovely face nearly took his breath away. He pulled his gloves from his pocket just to supply some distraction.

“Like I said before, I’ll drive you two home,” he said. “Where do you live?”

“I’ve been driving in snow like this and worse my whole life. I won’t have any problem,” she assured him.

“Are you always so darn contrary, or is it just something about me?” he asked her in a curious tone. “Is it the badge? Some people have a real thing about authority, you know. It’s not at all uncommon.”

Jessica paused for a second. He was staring at her in a way that was downright unnerving. She nervously bit down on her lip. “I’m not sure, Sheriff,” she ventured with a small, teasing grin. “Maybe it’s your after-shave.”

“I don’t wear after-shave,” he replied, the corner of his

mouth tilted up in the hint of a smile—but he was fighting it all the way. “If you don’t need a ride, I’ll follow you. And I’ll take the baby in my car. I need to make sure you get her home safely,” he responded in a stern tone.

“Whatever you say,” Jessie responded with a shrug.

She blew at an errant wisp of hair that was hanging down along the side of her cheek, tickling her nose. Before she could shift the baby around to reach it, Clint reached out and brushed it back behind her ear. His fingertips brushed soft as a whisper against her cheek, but the brief contact jolted her as if she’d been touched with the live end of an electric wire.

Their gazes met for one searing second; his eyes darkened and Jessie looked away.

“Uh, thanks,” she mumbled.

He stepped back and cleared his throat. “I guess we’d better get out of here.”

“Right,” Jessie said. “I’ll just wrap her up.”

She carried Daisy to her basket and began to wrap blankets around her with shaky hands. What in the world was happening here? Was she getting all tangled up inside over this grim lawman?

Nonsense, she told herself. It was the snowy, silent night, and the sheer adventure of finding a baby—period, Jessie told herself.

“We’re ready,” Jessie said, slipping on her coat and scarf.

Clint took the basket from her and headed out to the car. As he walked along she could hear him talking softly to the baby, and she smiled. Jessie gave the café one last long look before closing the lights and locking up, and she felt suddenly hopeful and bright, as if one part of her life were ending and new one just about to begin.

But it didn’t have one damn thing to do with Clint Bradshaw, she reminded herself.

And it wasn’t going to, either.

Two

The snow was falling fast and deep as Jessie slowly drove the familiar route home. Her small white farmhouse was just a few miles outside of town but she had rarely recalled the ride taking so long. As she guided the Jeep over bumpy, snow-covered roads, she could see the police car’s headlights shining steadily a short distance behind her. She thought of the baby, secure in her basket in the back seat of Clint’s cruiser—and she thought of Clint—and tried to ignore the odd little glow inside her.

The Jeep fishtailed as she turned into the long driveway and she steered hard to avoid skidding into a pine tree. Finally the vehicle lurched to a stop, the front end sunk into a hip-high drift.

She sighed and rested her head on the steering wheel for just a second before turning off the engine. She would have to do some digging to get this heap on the road again, but right now she had more important business to tend to.

Jessie hopped out, then glanced back to the police car that had pulled up behind her. Clint was already reaching into the back seat for Daisy’s basket. He was quickly at Jessie’s side, his long legs gliding effortlessly through the deep snow.

“You go ahead and open the door,” he said.

Jessie trekked up to the door and got it unlatched, Clint following close behind. He stumbled into the house, holding out the basket like a fullback coming over the fifty-yard line.

“This baby could sleep through a tornado,” he said. “Where do you want her?”

“In the living room will be fine for now, I guess.” Just behind him, Jessie peeked inside the basket as he carried it into the living room and set it down near the Christmas tree. Daisy was still, miraculously, sound asleep. Jessie reached in and arranged the blankets around her.

“Don’t start fussing over her too much now—she’ll wake up,” Clint whispered as he crouched down next to her.

“Do you think she’s okay in there? Maybe I should make a little bed for her from a dresser drawer or something,” Jessie whispered back.

“She looks pretty snug as is. I wouldn’t move her. You’ll put her in your bedroom tonight, while you’re sleeping, right?” he asked.

“Of course I will—” Jessie turned to him, wide-eyed and indignant. “As if I’d let this little girl sleep down here all by herself.”

“All right. Just checking,” he whispered back with a hint of laughter under his voice. “No more questions, promise. I know you’ll take good care of her.”

She would indeed. That was certainly no lie. She’d take the most excellent care of this baby, even if she had to stay up all night staring at her like a loyal watchdog. What she didn’t know about baby care Jessie was determined to make up for in dedication.

“Tell me something, Jessie,” he whispered. “When you got up this morning, did you ever think you’d find something like her under your tree?”

Jessie glanced at him, but made no answer. He had a teasing edge to his voice that Jessie would bet one didn’t hear too often. She looked down at the baby again and made a tiny adjustment in Daisy’s blanket.

“To tell you the truth, she’s exactly what I asked Santa to bring me.”

“You must have been a very good girl this year,” he replied.

She gave him a questioning sidelong glance, then looked back at the baby. “What are you expecting in your stocking this year? A lump of coal, I’d bet.”

“Sounds about right,” he admitted with a nod. “But I do have my memories.” His wicked grin made her heart skip a beat.

She smiled despite herself, but didn’t dare stare into his eyes for too long.

“She’s a miracle, isn’t she?” Jessie said, turning the conversation back to the baby.

“She is, indeed.” Clint nodded, his gaze moving from the baby back to Jessie. Had he done the wrong thing by letting her take this baby home, even for one night? The expression on her lovely face was enough to move even his old battered heart. How was it that she wasn’t married with a houseful of kids of her own? This lady wanted a baby—a baby and all the trimmings. All the things that he could never give a woman.

And he had wondered why he was even thinking in that direction. It had to be the baby that had put him in this strange mood. He knew how a child, a sweet little baby girl like this one, could so easily steal your heart. And he knew the pain of losing one.

“Well, everything seems to be under control,” he whispered. “I’ve got to go.”

Abruptly he stood up. Jessie stood up, too, wondering about his abrupt change of mood. She had just been about to offer him coffee, but it was probably better that she hadn’t, she decided. She had to admit that now that he was leaving, she felt just the tiniest bit nervous about being alone with the baby.

Get a grip, she urged herself. You can’t admit now that you don’t know beans about taking care of her.

Besides, it was probably better that he was leaving. This dark, strong, mercurial man genuinely unnerved her. Still, she wondered why, while half of her was willing him to go, the other half was already wondering when she’d see him again.

“So, what happens next?” Jessie asked as she followed him to the door.

“Someone will come by tomorrow and pick up the baby. I guess they’ll call you in advance for directions and such. You’d better give me your number,” he added and took a small pad and a pen out of his jacket pocket.

Jessie gave him the number, silently registering that the someone who would call and come for the baby wouldn’t be Sheriff Bradshaw.

“Oh, and you’d better save all her blankets and the clothes that she’s dressed in. We’re going to need all of that for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“We’ve got to try and find her mother, or whoever it was that wrote that note,” he explained, sounding very much like an officer of the law, Jessie thought.

“But whoever left her doesn’t want her. It says so right in the note,” Jessie said. “Daisy wouldn’t be returned to someone who doesn’t want to take care of her, would she?”

The note of concern in her voice touched a nerve. The woman certainly had a point, but he sure as hell didn’t make the rules.

“It will be up to the court to decide,” he said simply. “That is, if we find her mother, or some other relative.”

“And if you don’t find anyone?”

“Then she’ll be adopted. There are thousands of couples waiting to give a baby like that lots of love and a good home,” he assured her.

Thousands of couples. The phrase echoed in Jessie’s mind. Sometimes it seemed that the world was designed like Noah’s ark; you couldn’t get anywhere if you weren’t traveling in a twosome.

“Yes, I guess there are,” she said quietly. Then in a brighter tone, she added, “Just one more thing before you go, Sheriff—”

“Yes?” he answered sharply, pinning her with a definite “what is it now?” look.

“Merry Christmas,” she answered.

“Right—Merry Christmas,” he replied gruffly. “You’ve been a great help with this situation. Thanks.”

“No thanks necessary,” Jessie replied lightly. “Thanks for trusting me with her.”

“Well, don’t think I’m not going to check you out before the night is through,” he warned her in a half-teasing tone.

“Oh?” Jessie’s eyes widened. Then she laughed. “Well, let me know if you find out anything interesting. A woman likes to live up to her reputation.”

He didn’t answer. He just stood staring down at her for a long moment, his gaze floating over her hair and eyes, lingering on her mouth. Jessie felt something passing between them that was positively electric. He was going to lean down and kiss her. She felt as if she could barely breathe. Jessie looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Her lips parted. She held her breath…

But he didn’t. He stepped back, and pulled open the door. “Good night,” he said abruptly. And without waiting for her reply, he stepped out into the falling snow.

Jessie watched from the doorway as he walked down the path to his car and drove away. He was a puzzle, wasn’t he? A tempting puzzle for a woman attracted by that kind of man.

But not her.

Not by a long shot.

She wasn’t going to get her tail tied in a knot over Sheriff Clint Bradshaw. Not tonight, anyway. She had a baby to tend to and the very thought made her glow with excitement and shiver with flat-out fear.

This was a definite case of “watch out what you wish for because you just might get it,” she reflected as she walked back to Daisy’s basket. Well, it was just one night, she reminded herself, and the night was nearly over besides. Surely she could manage to care for one little tiny baby for a few hours? Why, the poor little girl would probably be asleep the entire time anyway.

It was almost as if Daisy had read Jessie’s mind and had, on cue, decided to prove just how wrong a person could be about a baby. One moment, she was sleeping peacefully as Jessie looked on, contemplating how her tiny features were set in the most angelic expression. And a split second later, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, her body stretched with tension, her little face turning as red as a Christmas ball.

“Here we go again,” Jessie mumbled, shaking her head as she reached for the baby. “Oh, now, now, sweetie. What’s all this racket about, honey pie?” she asked the baby as she lifted her up.

It seemed unlikely that Daisy would be hungry so soon after having virtually inhaled that huge bottle, Jessie reasoned. It had to be something else. Her diaper! Yes, that was it. She hadn’t given the downtown area any attention recently and was sure that must be the cause of Daisy’s hysteria.

“Okay, sweetie. I think I have a clue now—” With the crying baby slung over her shoulder, Jessie scampered around the house, pulling open drawers and closets with her one free hand as she tried to fix up a makeshift diaper station.

She brought all the supplies into the living room and tossed them on the couch. Then she laid Daisy down on the couch on an open bath towel and got to work. Removing the dirty diaper and cleaning the baby’s bottom was no problem. But the disposable diapers were not nearly so easy to use as they looked. Jessie found that securing one around a squirming, wailing infant was quite a challenge. Almost as fast as Jessie could get the diaper on her, Daisy seemed to twist and burst out of it, messing up all the sticky stuff on the tabs.

When Daisy was finally, though haphazardly, diapered to Jessica’s satisfaction, the room was littered with clean but unusable failed attempts.

The baby’s nightgown and undershirt were also wet, Jessie noticed while diapering her. After another long bout of squirming, crying and figuring out what seemed to Jessie a very complicated arrangement of snaps, Daisy had on a fresh diaper and a clean, dry undershirt and nightie.

Exhausted but proud, Jessie picked up Daisy and carried her back to her basket. Just as she was placing the baby back in her basket, however, she realized that somewhere during the clothes change, Daisy had managed to dirty her diaper again.

This time, in a more substantial manner.

“Courage, Malone,” Jessica said, bolstering herself. “You can do it.”

Daisy smiled up at her and stuck her fist in her mouth.

Jessica carried her back to the couch, and went through the entire operation one more time.

By the time Jessie had Daisy cleaned up again, the baby had begun a whimpering cry. Jessie realized that several hours had passed since she’d been fed. She fixed Daisy’s bottle quickly and fed her.

She was careful this time to remember to burp the baby. As Daisy gave out another astounding burp, Jessie glanced at the clock. It was well after three. Didn’t babies need to sleep a lot? Daisy seemed totally unaware of that part of her job description and did not look to Jessie at all likely to fall asleep anytime soon.

Jessie swaddled Daisy in a blanket and sat down with her in a rocker near the Christmas tree. The only lights in the room were the brightly colored tree lights, and through the large bay window Jessie could see the snow outside still falling.

In an hour or two, Christmas would be here, Jessie thought. As she rocked Daisy and hummed a lullaby, she thought back to the Christmas-morning rituals of her childhood. No matter how early she woke up, Aunt Claire had always gotten up just a little before her and there was a big mug of hot cocoa and a slice of her aunt’s special cinnamon Christmas bread waiting at her place. And even though the bread and cocoa were delicious, Jessie couldn’t sit still at the table long enough to eat them. With her mug and dish in hand, she’d dash into the living room and start unwrapping her presents as Aunt Claire looked on.

Jessie missed her aunt especially on the holiday. She could only dimly remember her parents, who died in a car accident when she was four years old. Claire, her father’s older sister, had taken her in.

Claire had never married or had children of her own, and though she was well into middle age when Jessie arrived in her life, she was a wonderful, devoted parent. She had showered Jessie with love and had been there for her, to celebrate her successes and support her over the rough spots.

Not that there had been all that many rough spots, Jessie conceded. She’d just hit one great big one, on Christmas Day five years ago; a major pothole on the road of life that had spun her life around like a crash car in a demolition derby.

She was to marry Sam Kincaid, the boy she’d grown up with, the first boy she’d ever kissed, had ever flirted with, danced with, had ever made promises and plans with. But when the time had come for their marriage ceremony to begin, Jessie had waited at the church, dressed in her white satin gown, as her family and friends looked on. Even now she remembered thinking how lucky it was that the veil had been pulled over her face, concealing her distraught expression as she’d waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally the minister had taken her aside. Some flowers had been delivered for her. He’d led her to his office and had given her the bouquet. A letter had been attached, from Sam. It’d been full of regrets and apologies. But still, Sam didn’t want to marry her. It wouldn’t be fair, he’d explained, since he had fallen in love with someone else. That someone else being a woman who was willing and even eager to make a life in the city—in Boston, or maybe even New York. While he knew that Jessie would never willingly leave Hope Springs.

I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, Jessie, he’d written, but I know someday you will look back and see that it has all turned out for the best.

Well, five years to the day had passed and still that elusive “someday” had not arrived. Jessie wondered if it ever would. Oh, she had quickly learned that there was indeed life after Sam. She’d picked up her skirts and plowed on, as Aunt Claire would say, and had never wasted a moment feeling sorry for herself.

The time had passed. People finally stopped talking about her “disappointment.” Year to year, her life changed. Aunt Claire decided she’d had enough New England winters for one lifetime and had retired to Arizona. She left Jessie the café and enough money to buy her own home.

In the past five years, Jessie had done her fair share of dating, yet she had never fallen in love again. Did you only get one chance for love and happiness? she sometimes wondered. Had her chance been used up on Sam Kincaid?

Maybe she was waiting in vain for something that didn’t exist. Maybe she should just marry the next nice, acceptable man that came her way. Was there even such a thing as true love? She believed she had felt it for Sam and yet, their marriage had been so…expected. Expected by their parents and friends—by the whole town, actually. Thinking back, she couldn’t even recall if Sam had actually proposed to her. Had she and Sam really loved each other—or were the feelings they shared more a mixture of familiarity, friendship and adolescent hormones?

Perhaps the only deep regret she had now about missing out on marriage was the fact that she wanted a baby—a baby just like sweet little Daisy, who was cuddled against her and not far from sleep.

Jessie glanced at the presents under her tree that her aunt and friends had sent her. The best gift of all this Christmas was Daisy, she realized, looking down again at the bundle in her arms. Daisy had finally fallen asleep, her head nestled against Jessie’s breast. Jessie stared down at her in wonder. She knew now what it was to hold an angel in her arms.

If only I could keep her, she thought. Keep her forever.

Daisy shifted in her sleep and Jessie wondered if she should get up and settle Daisy comfortably in her basket. But then she decided not to risk waking her so soon after she’d fallen asleep. Jessie closed her tired eyes and kept rocking.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Jessie opened her eyes. Someone was banging on the door. She started to get up and her sleep-muddled mind wondered for a second why she had fallen asleep in the rocker. Her body ached—especially her arms—and she realized in a flash that the strange weight in her arms was a sleeping baby.

Jessie’s eyes fully opened and it all came back to her. She had fallen asleep in the rocker with Daisy. She wondered what time it was. The living room was dark, but not nighttime dark. She glanced out the window and realized that the snow was still falling.

The thumping had stopped for a moment, but now started again in earnest. Daisy was squirming, but not quite awake. Jessie got up from the chair with the sleepy baby cuddled against her shoulder.

Jessie trudged to the door and pulled it open. She felt a knot instantly clench up in her stomach.

“Looks like I woke you,” Clint Bradshaw greeted her.

She hadn’t been able to guess who was banging on her door. But he was the last person she’d expected to see. Was he here to take Daisy after all? So early?

“I guess you did.” Jessie lifted a hand to her sleeptousled hair. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like. She didn’t want to know. “We—uh, had a late night,” she said. She pulled the door open wider and stepped aside. He came inside, his big body instantly filling up the small foyer and creating an uncomfortable sense of intimacy between them.

He stared down at her. “How’s the baby?”

“Oh, she’s fine.” Jessie looked at the drowsy baby, then back up at Clint. “Still a little sleepy, I guess.”

“Did she cry much last night?”

“A little,” Jessie replied. “I guess she missed her mother.”

Jessie could now recall falling asleep with Daisy in the chair the first time. Daisy waking, getting fed and changed and having another crying spell a few hours after that and Jessie ending up right back in the chair with her sometime right before dawn, only to fall asleep again.

“Yes, I guess so,” he answered, nodding.

Enough of the small talk, Sheriff, she wanted to say. It’s really not your style anyway.

“Have you come to take her?” Jessie forced herself to ask him.

He removed his hat and gloves. His expression showed no emotion. “Tired of her already?”

“No—no, not at all. She’s not a bit of trouble,” Jessie protested, some part of her mind registering that in some sense, her words weren’t entirely true. The baby had been heaps of trouble and had kept her running all night long. But she wouldn’t have traded those hours with Daisy for anything.

Clint looked down at her, his gaze narrowed. And though the look was clearly a suspicious one, Jessie couldn’t help but notice the attractive little lines fanning out at the corners of his eyes. Damn, but the man was something to look at. Even more so in the light of day.

“Well, you can keep her here until tomorrow. Or maybe even the day after,” Clint said. “Providing, of course, you want to.”

“Two whole days?” Jessie felt her deflated heart fill with joy. “You mean it?”

“I guess that’s a yes,” Clint said dryly, the hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth.

“Of course it’s a yes.” Jessie smiled up at him. “But why? I thought you said someone would come for her today.”

“The roads between here and Whitewood are a mess with the snow and the social services people at the hospital are all off for the holiday anyway,” he explained. “Nobody seems to think that there’s any emergency about bringing her in.”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jessie happily whispered to Daisy. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and it will snow for a week.”

“Yeah, well, it just might.” Clint didn’t seem to consider this a fortunate turn of events, Jessie noticed. “We’ll see how you sound two days from now, snowed in with a tiny baby.”

“I wouldn’t mind being snowed in with her for a month,” Jessie replied.

Daisy, who was balanced on her hip, reached up and grabbed a long loose curl of Jessie’s hair. She yanked it with surprising strength. “Ouch!” Jessie yelped and gently pried the baby’s fingers free. “No, honey. Not the hair,” Jessie said patiently.

Clint glanced down at her with an “I told you so” look, but she ignored him.

“I brought you some supplies,” he said. “They’re out in the car.”

“Supplies?”

“Diapers, bottles, formula, rubber ducks. Hell, from what I’ve seen, babies need mountains of stuff,” he said as he pulled on his gloves and hat again. “And you can’t very well take her out in this weather,” he added, his hand on the door. “She doesn’t even have a snowsuit or a car seat.”

“Uh, no, she doesn’t. I guess you’re right,” she had to agree.

Snowsuits? Car seats? Jessie wondered how he had become so well-versed in the secret language of babies. Was he married with enough offspring to fill a minivan? He looked and acted single. And he didn’t wear a wedding ring. But all that could be said of many men who were anything but unattached, Jessie reminded herself.

“I’ll be right back,” Clint said, swinging open the door. “Better keep her out of the cold draft.”

“Oh, right. I’ll leave the door unlatched,” Jessie said, heading for the living room.

As Clint disappeared out into the snow again, Jessie dashed to her bedroom, hugging Daisy close. She set Daisy on the bed and quickly changed her diaper. She had perfected her technique during the night and now managed to put a fresh diaper on the baby without using up half a bag of them in the process.

She was about to scoop Daisy up and take her back out to the living room when she caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror over her oak dressing table.

Jessie winced.

After bringing Daisy in last night, she hadn’t had a moment to think about herself. Not even time enough to shower and change into her nightgown. She had slept in the rocking chair, wearing a big plaid bathrobe over her waitress uniform. Half the pins had fallen out of her hair and it now looked like something was nesting on her head.

Oh, Lordy! It was amazing the man didn’t turn and run when I opened the door this morning, she thought. She was about to put Daisy down and attempt some emergency repairs when she heard an unholy roar from the living room.

“What in God’s name—” It was Clint. She scooped up Daisy, then rushed down the hallway just in time to see Clint standing in the doorway of her living room with white parcels hanging from each hand.

She wondered what the problem was. Had he hurt himself? Twisted an ankle in the snow? She drew closer and stood right behind him. She looked past his broad back and through the doorway to see what he saw.

The living room looked like a cyclone had struck. Large, white balls of rejected diapers littered the couch and floor. Baby clothes, towels, all of Daisy’s blankets, cotton balls and a few brightly colored plastic cups that Jessie had used to amuse the baby, covered every flat surface.

Just the fallout from her wild night with Daisy, but she hadn’t had a chance to tidy up.

He turned to her, his expression dark, his gaze pinning her like a butterfly on a specimen tray.

“What the hell happened in there?”

“It…uh, got a little out of control last night with the baby, I guess,” Jessie stammered. “She wasn’t…um, quite as easy as I thought to take care of.”

“You told me you knew all about taking care of a baby,” he reminded her in a stern, quiet tone.

Jessie’s mind raced. She could lie her way out of this. She could tell him that Daisy was a particularly difficult baby. The roughest, toughest, most stubborn little critter she’d ever come across. Though the baby’s present calm disposition certainly belied that explanation.

“Well? Do you or don’t you?” he demanded.

“It’s just—” Jessie cleared her throat and started over. “It’s just that it’s been a while since I watched a baby alone and those darn disposable diapers must have been factory rejects because—”

Daisy reached up and swatted Jessie’s mouth. The baby had obviously been entranced by the movement of her lips, but the gesture made Jessie think she was trying to say, “Cut the bull, Jessie. This guy isn’t buying.”

Jessie paused and looked down at Daisy. She took her little hand and pressed a soft kiss on the baby’s palm. Daisy gurgled and smiled.

“You don’t really have much experience caring for kids, do you?” he asked again, in a softer tone.

“Uh, no.” Jessie glanced up him, then down at Daisy again. “No, I don’t,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I must say I got a crash course last night.”

“It sure as hell looks like somethin, crashed in there,” Clint said, glancing into the living room again. “Crashed and burned.”

Jessie studied his expression. The elation she’d felt hearing that Daisy was staying for the next two days instantly drained away.

She walked past him into the living room and sat down in the rocker. She sat Daisy on her lap and rocked. The baby’s eyes widened and she smiled as the chair dipped to and fro.

“I guess that means you don’t want to leave her with me after all,” Jessie said with her gaze still fixed on Daisy.

Clint was standing near the chair, looking down at the two of them. He pulled off his gloves, then removed his jacket and placed it on a chair. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand.

“I don’t know that I have much of a choice,” he finally replied.

Jessie looked up at him. She could feel her gaze getting misty, her eyes filling with tears. This was so silly. She knew the baby had to go sooner or later. Today or the day after next. What did it matter? And she had lied to him. She could no longer deny it.

She sniffed and looked down at Daisy again. She didn’t want to cry. At least not in front of him.

Daisy was happily amusing herself with Jessie’s fingers. She let out a happy, high-pitched shriek that shattered the tense silence.

“What now?” Jessie asked him in a thick voice.

He ran a hand absently through his thick hair. A muscle twitched in his lean cheek, yet his expression showed nothing. Not anger or even annoyance. Certainly not sympathy.

“I guess I’ll have to take her back,” he said.

And the look on her face just about broke his heart. Those huge brown eyes, glistening with unshed tears. Her head bowed again as she stared down at the baby who sat so contentedly in her lap. She looked as if she’d run herself ragged last night, he noted. Without a word of complaint, either. He had the craziest urge to lean over and wrap his arms around her, to feel her head rest on his shoulder as some of that wild, wonderful hair brushed against his cheek.

You are ten kinds of a fool, Clint silently cussed himself. He should have known better than to get involved with this woman—he should have known a hell of lot better by now.

Jessie cleared her throat and looked up at him. “You seem to know a lot about babies,” she remarked in a quiet voice. “What to do for them and everything.”

His eyes narrowed. His expression hardened. “I’m not able to care for Daisy, if that’s what you’re driving at. For one thing, there’s no one to stay with her when I’m on my shift, or called out for an emergency.”

All he’d said was true and certainly logical. But there was something under his words, some other, more personal reason why caring for Daisy by himself was not an option—though he clearly knew how. Something in his past, Jessie guessed. She had the urge to probe further, yet something in the way Clint looked at her at that very moment warned her off. His look told her that she was treading on very sensitive ground and would do best to back off.

“Oh, I understand,” Jessie said. “I wasn’t suggesting that you could look after her. It’s just that, I was thinking, since you do seem to know how to care for her so much better than I do, that you could stay awhile and show me what to do. You know, sort of give me some baby lessons?”

Three

“You want me to give you baby lessons?” He stared at her; his thick dark brows rose and his blue eyes widened. “Are you this crazy all the time? Or is it just because of the baby?”

“Well, why not?” Jessie argued. She stood up, holding Daisy against her shoulder. “You could run through the basics with me for an hour or two. If you still don’t think I can handle her after that, then you can take her to Whitewood and I promise I won’t say a word.”

Clint shook his head and tossed his hands up in the air. “I can take her right now, you know. I don’t exactly need your permission,” he reminded her. “And besides, you lied to me last night, Jessie.”

Jessie stared at him and bit down on her lower lip. The way he’d said her name, as if they’d know each other for years, instead of hours, momentarily distracted her, his deep voice like rough velvet sweeping across her senses.

“Yes, that’s true,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry I did that. I apologize. It’s not normally, well, something I do. But I thought I could handle her.” Jessie looked down at Daisy, who was contentedly fingering a strand of her hair. “And I guess I just couldn’t resist trying.”

Clint drew in a deep breath. He was standing quite close to her, so close that she had to tip her head back to see his face. She was distracted by his nearness, yet didn’t feel she wanted to—or was even able to—step away. His expression was unreadable; his well-formed mouth pursed in a frown.

“All right,” he said finally. His voice was so low and deep, she’d hardly heard him. “I’ll show you what to do. But if it doesn’t work out, no arguments. Promise?”

“I promise,” Jessie agreed eagerly. She could feel herself smiling so widely, it practically hurt. “I’ll be good at this. You’ll see.”

The only thing he could see at that moment was a beautiful, warmhearted woman whose dejected expression had suddenly turned to pure joy. And now all that radiant loveliness was aimed right at him, shining just for him, and he felt as if he’d been hit by a zillion watts of sunshine. And appropriately enough, he thought wryly, he was melting at her feet, like a lump of something soft and sticky.

“Let’s get started,” he said gruffly. “I don’t have a lot of time for this today.” Although in truth, his shift didn’t start until the evening.

He collected the bags of supplies he’d abruptly dropped in the hallway and carried them into Jessie’s kitchen. Carrying Daisy, Jessie followed.

The first task on the agenda, Clint determined, was giving Daisy a bath. While providing a running, instructional commentary, he efficiently cleaned Jessie’s kitchen sink and countertop. Then he set up the counter with a fresh towel and washcloth, bottles of baby shampoo, skin lotion and other essentials.

The tub was filled with lukewarm water and Daisy was gently submerged. Daisy looked too adorable for words in her bath, Jessie thought. She gazed up curiously at Clint and didn’t even cry when he washed her hair.

“Some people like to rinse the baby’s hair with a football hold,” he told Jessie. At this point she knew that meant securing the baby under one arm, running-back style. “I prefer rinsing with a cup with one hand and shielding her eyes and ears with the other.” He gently spread his big hand over Daisy’s forehead as he rinsed the soap from her hair with a cup of warm water.

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