The director grimaced and accepted the bag gingerly. She hustled into her office and returned in a few moments, minus the bag.
A whoosh and rush of fresh air behind Daci announced someone coming in the front door. Jax? A little early for legal aid to arrive, but... Daci turned to face the newcomer, and her welcoming smile faded into openmouthed amazement. Dismay might be a better term. Somebody please tell her this person was not her assignment.
The garishly made-up woman’s anxious gaze darted from Naomi to Daci and back again. “I’m on time somewhere for once, aren’t I?”
“Of course, Serena,” Naomi answered kindly.
The woman wriggled her whole curvy body like a puppy who’d been praised. “Wow! Cool!”
Naomi stepped forward. “I’d like you to meet another new employee. Serena, this is Daci. Daci, this is Serena. You’ll both be working with our infants.”
“Hi.” Serena’s purple-painted lips curved into a smile, and she waggled a set of fingers at Daci.
The sharply filed nails were painted a brilliant shade of magenta sprinkled with glittery spangles. Those would have to go. As Daci lifted a hand in return greeting, she resisted glancing at her own neatly trimmed fingernails.
Surely, it wouldn’t be her responsibility to instruct the young woman in grooming details, as well as the nitty-gritty of childcare. The task would challenge a professional makeover expert. Short, stiffly spiked hair sported streaks of hot pink between puffs of artificial yellow, sticking out like sheaves of wheat straw. Distressed jeans and the multicolored blouse that hung off one shoulder screamed wannabe teenager rather than twenty-three-year-old mother.
Daci stifled a deep groan. Classic! Addiction stunted the natural maturing process. She understood that concept better than most people on the planet, but bitter experience had left her cold toward the addict caught up in the phenomenon.
“Come on, ladies.” Naomi motioned them deeper into the building. “Let me show you the infant rooms, and I’ll introduce you to the lead teacher for that age group. Then we can issue your staff polo shirts we want you to wear every day at work.”
Daci resisted the urge to wipe imaginary sweat from her brow. One fashion change would be taken care of without her having to add it to her already brimming plateful. She followed the day care director, dragging heavy chains of doubt about her ability to pull off the assignment of chumming with a recovering addict.
* * *
Jax leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and watched Daci interact with a one-year-old on the nursery floor. Since her back was to him, and she was engaged with the little girl, Daci hadn’t noticed his entrance. Her inattention to him suited Jax fine—it gave him an opportunity to observe this fascinating woman when she had no reason to be self-conscious.
He’d spent longer than he’d be willing to confess researching her online last night. He gave himself the excuse that he needed a solid sense of the background and experiences of his colleague, which was only part of the reason for his interest—maybe the smaller part. His discoveries had astonished him. Daci, more than most, had a web presence that had nothing to do with social media. In fact, as far as he could tell, she didn’t participate in social media at all, and he didn’t blame her. The professional media had already hurt her enough.
Their documented history of Candace “Daci” Marlowe gave fresh meaning to the term “poor little rich girl.” Not that anybody looking at her understated grooming and attire would ever guess that her personal resources could put her in with the jet set rather than the workaday world. No doubt, her parents’ antics had soured her on empty glitz and glamour, but she could have easily chosen a quiet life, out of the spotlight, without putting herself in danger. Why choose a career in law enforcement? Had witnessing her grandmother’s murder left her with a score to settle with the bad guys of the world?
As much as he’d discovered in his research, Jax still had a lot of questions about Ms. Marlowe. It was anyone’s guess whether she’d offer him any answers, and he had reasons of his own for not pressing for that level of intimacy, despite his attraction to her. He’d have to force himself to rein in his need-to-know mind. Easier said than done.
“Ja-ax!” Serena’s singsong voice made two syllables of his name.
He turned to find the young woman scurrying up to him, bright red lips pulled wide in a grin. Jax stiffened, then ordered himself to relax.
Last time Serena had rushed toward him like that had been in court when he’d successfully argued not to allow Chase to be placed with her until she’d proved herself capable of remaining sober. She hadn’t been happy with him in that moment and had used vivid language to clue him in on her feelings. At least it had only been words. He’d thought she was going to use those nails on his face.
“Hello, Serena,” he said as she invaded his personal space.
Despite her tendency to overpaint herself, she was a pretty woman, and with sobriety, the health of her personal appearance had steadily improved—eyes clear not bloodshot, cheeks filled out rather than gaunt, and interesting hair clean rather than lank with grease and neglect. “You’re looking well today.”
She wriggled at the compliment. “I feel good, and I’m doing real good. Everything’s perfect, except...” The smile abruptly fell away, and a pout took its place.
“Except what?” Jax rose to the bait.
“Chase isn’t here today.” Daci supplied the answer as she came to stand with them.
His breathing hitched. “Where is he?”
“Those foster parents of his called him in sick,” Serena said. “I think they’re making up excuses. Like, how am I supposed to bond with my son and learn how to care for him if they keep him away from me?”
“You don’t trust people much, do you?”
“Why should I?” Serena crossed her arms over her chest. “All my life, people have done nothing but mess with me.”
A troubled expression flitted across Daci’s face, and she laid a hand on the shorter woman’s shoulder. “I get that sentiment totally, but it really is against the rules to bring a sick child to day care.”
“Ja-ax.” Serena gazed into his eyes and smoothed the lapels of his suit jacket with her palms. “Would you please check on my baby for me?”
He took a half step backward. “I can do that.”
Poor Serena. Her life experiences so full of certain types of men had her thinking that any request made to a man had to be based on sex appeal in order to get his agreement. No doubt, her counselors were working with her in this area, but it took a while to overcome deeply ingrained mind-sets.
“Oh, thank you!” Serena folded her hands together. “Like, as long as I tell myself his foster parents are making stuff up, I can be mad, but if my little boy really is sick, then I’m going to be sad. I need to know. You know?”
“I think Mr....er, Jax gets it,” Daci said, sticking out her hand toward him. “Daci Marlowe, teacher’s assistant.”
Jax didn’t miss a beat in shaking her hand. If Daci were to have a chance at
