could be the only explanation for why, when he stumbled up the stairs and into Juliana’s nursery to find Zoey sitting in the rocking chair singing to the baby she cradled in her arms, he wanted to walk across the room and plant a very thorough kiss on the woman’s lips.
She had changed her clothes at some point during the day and no longer wore the blue hospital scrubs in which he normally saw her—the scrubs that had only hinted at the lush curves he knew must lurk beneath. Now Zoey was dressed in faded blue jeans and an oversize pink sweater that begged him to reach out and feel how soft it was, when what he really wanted to explore was the softness of the woman beneath it.
And her hair... Jonas curled his hands into fists lest he do something really stupid. Because Zoey had let her hair down. It hung loose and cascaded over one shoulder in a shimmer of copper that seemed to catch fire as it reflected the rays of the setting sun streaming in through the window behind her. Never before had he realized just how long and straight, how silky and rich, her hair was.
And in that moment, Jonas knew he was in serious trouble. Because instead of stirring up the anger and resentment he normally felt when he encountered her, Zoey was stirring up something else entirely. Something he hadn’t experienced for a long, long time. Something that felt dangerously like desire. Hot, heavy, urgent desire.
“Hi,” she said with a smile when she looked up at him.
Jonas wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think Zoey had ever smiled at him before. And the knowledge that she was doing so now, that the inviting, welcome-home expression on her face was meant for him and him alone, was staggering to say the least. As if to illustrate, he took a step backward, nearly reeling. Then she looked back down at the baby and, with the distraction of her beauty gone, he was finally able to catch his breath.
“How...how did it go with Juliana today?” he asked, hoping his voice revealed none of the troubling thoughts parading through his brain.
“Great,” Zoey told him.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Really?”
She nodded. “Really.”
“No fitfulness?”
“No, nothing unusual for a baby this age.”
“No crying jags?”
“Only when she was hungry.”
“No screaming fits?”
“Not a one.”
She continued to look at Juliana, and her next words were expressed in the high-pitched, breathy voice people normally adopted when addressing an infant. “We did very well today, didn’t we, sweetie? We ate well, and we played on our quilt, and we watched some birds at the feeder outside, and we read Curious George, and we listened to some reggae music, and—”
“Reggae music?” Jonas repeated. “Where did you find reggae music? I don’t have any reggae music.”
Zoey looked up at him and smiled that mind-numbing smile again. “I brought some tapes in from my car. It’s been my experience that babies love reggae music.”
“They do?”
She nodded. “Evidently. At least, the limited study group I’ve used for experimentation has.”
“How limited?”
“Three. Well, four now, if you include Jules.”
“Jules?”
She nodded again. “I think it fits her much better than ‘Juliana’. Don’t you think she’s more of a Jules?”
Jonas shook his head, feeling more and more bizarre with every passing moment. Zoey Holland was in his home, speaking to him quite civilly, rocking a child in her arms upon whom she had bestowed an affectionate nickname and behaving as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
“I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “I never really thought about it.”
Zoey dipped her head toward the baby, who stared back at her with frank adoration. “Well, I think she’s definitely more of a Jules.”
As if voicing her agreement, Juliana smiled and cooed with much contentment. Zoey laughed and rose from the chair, lifting the baby to her shoulder.
“I wasn’t sure what you planned to do for dinner,” she said, “so I took the liberty of fixing some seafood stew and a tossed salad.”
Dinner, too? Jonas marveled. On top of everything else, Zoey was actually cooking for him? “Where did you find the ingredients?” he asked. “I always order something in or eat out on my way home. There’s never any food in this house.”
“Well, there is now. Jules and I went to the grocery store and stocked up for you. You can pay me back before I leave tonight.”
“You took Juliana to the grocery store?” he asked incredulously.
“Didn’t I just say that I did?”
“You took her out? In this weather? To a public place?”
Zoey laughed as she approached him. “It was a beautiful day today, and—”
“It was thirty degrees!”
“—and Jules had a great time. She’s three months old, Dr. Tate. She’s in excellent health, and she was dressed in perfectly warm clothing. You don’t have to keep her hidden away. On the contrary, you should expose her to as many environments as possible. Stimulate her senses a little. She’s going to get bored if you keep her at home all the time. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why she cries so much.”
Zoey had paused scant inches away from him, close enough for him to reach out and touch the errant strand of hair that fell over her forehead, if that was what he wanted to do. And strangely enough, it was. But before he could lift a hand to do so, she extended the baby toward him.
“Now kiss her hello and take her in your arms,” she instructed.
The panic that always seized him whenever he had to come into close contact with Juliana gripped him fiercely, and he took another step backward. “I can’t,” he said.
Zoey took a meaningful step forward. “Of course you can.”
He shook his head. “You hold her for a while longer.”
“No, you hold her.”
With much reluctance, Jonas turned his hands palm up and slowly, ever so slowly, extended them forward. Zoey stared at him for a long moment before turning her mouth down in disapproval.
“See? Now that’s your problem,” she told him.
“What?” he asked. “What’s my problem?”
“You’re terrified of her.”
“Well, of course I’m terrified of her. Who wouldn’t be?”
“Oh, for
