style="font-size:15px;"> She didn’t want to cause the woman more work. “I’m happy to come and get it.”
Waving her hands in dismissal, Thelma tsked. “Don’t want to hear another word about it. You just get the little one settled.”
Chloe exhaled in relief. Thelma was proving to be an ally. “Thanks.” As Thelma left, Chloe knocked lightly on the connecting door frame to Jimmy’s room. “Mind if I come in?”
“Uh-uh.” Jimmy sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the large window. Still dressed in his best clothes, as though waiting for something that would never happen, he looked completely, inescapably alone.
“Know what I was thinking?” she asked in an encouraging voice.
He shook his head.
“We could get in our jammies, scrunch up on this amazing chair in front of the fireplace in my room and tell stories.” Chloe wriggled her eyebrows. “Might even be some hot cocoa in the deal.”
“My dad used to read me a story every night and Mommy would sing.”
Chloe sat down beside him, putting her arm around his shoulders. “You know, I seem to remember packing a few of your favorite books.”
Leaving him to change into his pajamas, Chloe did the same. By the time she’d tied the sash on her thick, fluffy robe, she heard a light knock on the door. Expecting Thelma, she whipped open the door with a smile.
Evan Mitchell’s muscular frame filled the doorway and his forbidding expression sent her smile plummeting.
“If you need anything,” he began uncomfortably. “Just ask Thelma.”
Chloe clutched her pink robe, excruciatingly aware of the matching bunny slippers on her feet. Trying to tuck them backward just pulled his attention toward the embarrassing footwear.
Straightening her shoulders, she tried to look as businesslike as possible. “We’re fine, thank you.”
He didn’t reply.
Unnerved, she tried to think of something else to say, to distract him, to remove his all-too-male presence. “Thelma’s making us some hot cocoa.”
“Right.” He glanced down the empty corridor.
Chloe fervently wished Thelma would make an appearance.
But the hall remained empty.
“I’ll say good night then,” Evan finished.
“Good night.” Rattled, Chloe shut the door and retreated to the burgundy velvet chaise. Not that she needed the heat from the fire. Touching her cheeks, she confirmed they were warm and no doubt bright red. Oh, yes. Evan Mitchell had seen past her professional facade. All the way to her pink bunny slippers.
Chapter Two
The fire was dying down and their cups of cocoa were empty. Chloe had read three of Jimmy’s books, told him several of her favorite stories and he was finally nodding off. It had been an eternally long day for her. She could only imagine how it had tired him. But the little guy didn’t complain. Instead, he had cuddled close on the chaise, listening to the stories, and trying to stay awake.
Certain that he was ready for bed, she scooped him up from the lounger.
“I’m not sleepy,” he mumbled, his head falling on her shoulder.
“I know, big guy. We’ll just rest for a while.” Chloe carried him through the adjoining door into the nursery. Thelma had made up both the child’s bed and the single bed nearby. Chloe gently deposited him on the smaller bed. Then she grabbed his stuffed dog, Elbert, and laid it close. Pulling the sheet and handmade quilt up to his chin, she kept her voice low. “Snug as a bug in a rug.”
Jimmy’s eyelids were drifting closed, but he struggled to keep them open. “Don’t go.”
“Okay.” She sat on the edge of his bed, softly singing one of the Irish lullabies her mother had sung to her when she was little.
Chloe hummed the chorus again, watching until finally the gentle rise and fall of his chest told her that Jimmy had nodded off. Quietly she returned to her room, leaving the door to the nursery open. Warmed by the dwindling fire, she crossed over to the bay window. Old-fashioned streetlights—that she guessed had been converted from oil—softly illuminated the brick-paved street below. She hadn’t imagined such quaint places still existed. As she studied the engaging landscape, she spotted a lone figure walking up the lane. When the man reached the Mitchell home he turned and headed to the tall oak on the knolled rise of the lawn.
Unable to take her eyes from the man, she glimpsed his face when he stepped beside the gas light in the yard. Evan Mitchell. She shouldn’t be surprised. After all, it was his home. Continuing to watch, she saw him sit on a stone bench that curved around the tree. Evan just didn’t seem like the sort of man to take solitary nighttime walks. Fleetingly she wondered if he was cold.
Not that it should matter to her. His behavior had been utterly frigid. Still, she wondered why he sat alone, what drove him out in the chilly night. Wisps of clouds drifted, allowing some moonlight to filter downward. Evan looked up in the direction of the light. His expression was so bleak, Chloe’s hand flew to her mouth to stop an automatic cry of distress. What was troubling him so deeply?
Not that he would confide in her. Nor should she want him to. Evan was the enemy, the man who decided Jimmy’s fate. But the part of her that always reached out to others refused to stay quiet. Was it possible that Evan had issues that she needed to learn? Issues he had to resolve before accepting a child in his life?
The questions stilled. Because Evan Mitchell dropped his head in his hands. And Chloe couldn’t intrude on his private moment any longer.
Even though the soft feather bed was incredibly comfortable, Chloe couldn’t sleep. Literally tossing and shifting in the bed, she’d twisted the sheets and lace crocheted coverlet into a tangled mess. But sleep was impossible with the mass of conflicting thoughts racing through her mind. Hearing a sudden cry, she bolted upright. Remembering the small set of wooden stairs beside the mattress for climbing in and out of the tall bed, she clicked on her lamp so she could find them. Untangling herself from the covers, she grabbed her robe and raced into the adjoining room.
Jimmy was sitting up in the bed, looking terrified.
Immediately, Chloe reached out to pull him into her arms. Rocking him back and forth, she imparted all the comfort she possessed. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You’re safe. I’m right here.” He shook with a convulsed sob and Chloe’s eyes filled. If only she could take his pain for him. Rubbing his back, she held him until he was finally still. Pulling back slightly, she smoothed the dark hair from his forehead. “Was it a dream?”
He nodded, a jerky motion. “And when I woke up I didn’t know where I was.”
“I wasn’t having much luck sleeping either. I’d probably go to sleep faster if I wasn’t alone.” She rubbed her chin as though in deep concentration. “Do you suppose I could sleep on the extra bed in here? It would really help me out.”
This time when he nodded, he looked up at her with relief in
