little one,” he said, approaching her crib. Gently he picked her up, held her close. “Good morning to you, too.”
He kissed the top of her head, breathed in the sweet baby freshness of her skin, the scent of baby powder.
“Hi,” Mackenzie said, her voice soft.
He turned and saw she was wide-awake and looking refreshed. “You’re up bright and early.”
“I got a lot more sleep than I have since before I became pregnant.” She came to take Haven from him, and he smelled an entirely different smell: strawberry shampoo, delicate floral soap, sexy woman.
His heart did one of those funny flip-flops he’d gotten used to feeling around her.
“Thanks for watching them last night.” She gazed up at him. “I think I slept so well because I knew you were standing guard.”
Oh, boy. There went the heart. “It was no problem. Part of the job.”
“Not part of the job I hired you to do.” She looked at him funny.
He backed up a step when he realized he was staring at her pink, glossy lips. “It’s the job Frog and Fellows are applying for.”
“That’s Ty’s bright idea. And by now, you know Ty can be a bit of a squirrel.” She smiled. “Babysitting isn’t part of your job description. But thank you.”
Warmth expanded in his chest at her smile. He wondered if he’d ever met a woman he was so blindingly attracted to—and decided in a hurry that was a terrible thought to have about his boss. Definitely a dead end. There was no way on this planet he had any business being attracted to her.
“I’m going to get some coffee. You want a cup?”
“No, thank you. You go on.”
He nodded and turned to leave.
Turned back around, met her gaze. Started to say that sitting up with her daughters hadn’t been work; he hadn’t done it because of Frog and Friends. He’d done it because he’d wanted to. Wanted to make her happy, help her out.
But it was a bad idea to make such a confession. No purpose to it at all, and he didn’t do anything unless he knew the purpose.
Shutting his stupid yap tight before it could say weird, mushy things, he left.
“Hello, handsome,” Justin heard as he got out of his truck, which he’d parked right in front of Madame Matchmaker’s small shop.
He turned, found Daisy Donovan just about too close for comfort, chest-high, tiny and dangerous. The brunette was dressed in a short denim skirt, brown cowboy boots and a white halter top. She smiled at him mischievously. All the sex appeal being aimed at him had warning bells ringing like mad inside his head.
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