as he walked down the short hallway, rolling his shoulders to ease the ache and rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes.
“Good morning, little Bee,” he told the eleven-month-old, who was sitting on her makeshift bed of blankets and a sleeping bag in the middle of the bedroom floor. “What’s wrong?”
Breanna’s mouth quivered as tears glistened on her eyelashes. From the way she eyed him, she’d obviously felt as if she were living her worst nightmare, too. And she probably was. Wanting her mother and getting him instead had to be as stressful for her as the situation was for him. He, at least, had the advantage of understanding what had happened but Breanna did not. She only knew that she wanted her old life with her mother, not this new one with a man she’d never met.
What were you thinking, Dee? he silently railed. You knew I wasn’t cut out to be the sort of father figure a kid needed.
But whatever plane in the universe where Dee had gone didn’t allow for two-way communication. He was on his own, left to devise a plan for a situation he hadn’t anticipated in his wildest dreams. And at the moment the first thing to do was to sort out what Breanna wanted…
Uncomfortable in his new role as father, Joe had learned enough in his crash ‘daddy’ course to change her diaper and he did so with clumsy hands. He’d never felt as helpless as he did now—as he had for the past thirty-six hours. Nothing he did made the little girl happy and he’d already exhausted his small store of parenting ideas. He needed help…and fast. But who could he call?
Honestly, Dee, what made you think I was the best candidate to take care of your daughter?
His little voice corrected him. Dee said you were all she had, remember?
“She was wrong,” he said aloud, ignoring the idea that denying Dee’s claim didn’t make it so.
The doorbell pealed and he frowned at the interruption. Dressing Breanna for the day would have to wait.
He freed her snuggle bunny from being buried in the blankets and tucked it next to her, hoping he could deal with his early morning guest before Breanna realized he’d left the room and raised the roof again.
A minute later, to Joe’s amazement, he saw his fellow paramedic, Maggie Randall, fidgeting on his porch. She’d obviously come directly on her way home from the fire station because she still wore her blue uniform. Her long, tawny hair was restrained in her customary braid and her expression reflected the wariness he was coming to expect when she spoke to him.
He wasn’t so physically and emotionally exhausted not to realize that he was responsible for the caution in her chocolate-brown eyes, but what could he expect? They’d butted heads from the very beginning and all because it was the only way he could counteract the electrical jolt a single, innocent and accidental touch had given his system. Right now, though, she was a familiar face and a welcome sight.
“Am I glad to see you,” he said fervently.
She blinked, clearly taken aback by his declaration. “You are? Oh. Well, good morning to you, too.” Her gaze swept over him, making him conscious of his babyfood-stained T-shirt, tousled hair and bare feet. “Sorry to show up unannounced, but you missed a shift so I thought I’d check on you and make sure everything was OK.”
The concept of anyone questioning his absence and worrying about him was foreign and completely disconcerting, especially when Maggie was the one worrying. She was an attractive woman with a vivacious, caring personality that he found very appealing. For the hundredth time, he wished Maggie had chosen another field because she stirred him in ways he shouldn’t be stirred if he wanted to keep their relationship on a professional footing.
“Actually, things aren’t OK,” he began.
Sympathy shone from her eyes. “I can see that. You look a little rough around the edges. The stomach bug going around right now is vicious.” She thrust a container at him. “My mother swears there isn’t anything that chicken-noodle soup can’t cure, so I got up early and threw it together just for you.”
The dish was still warm. Once again, it was humbling to realize Maggie had gone to the trouble when she didn’t have to bother. It was even more humbling to think she’d made the effort when he hadn’t exactly endeared himself to her. “How did you manage? You couldn’t have had time to go shopping…”
“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I raided the cupboards at the station so I’ll replace what I took the next time I’m on duty. It’s no big deal.”
Her effort may not be a big deal to her, but to him it was. “Thanks, but I’m—”
“Don’t worry, I left out the arsenic.”
Unable to help himself, he chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. If anything happens to me, you’ll be the first suspect.”
Her smile lit up her face. “Exactly. However, if I were you,” she continued as if she were in a hurry to leave now that she’d done her good deed, “I’d go back to bed and get some rest. Do you have the usual home remedies? Acetaminophen, decongestant, cough medicine, soda and crackers? If not, I’ll be happy to run to the store or do whatever…”
“I’m not sick.”
She hesitated. “You aren’t?”
“Something came up,” he began as an idea popped into his head and instantly took root. “Something personal.”
“Oh.” She took a step backward. From the way her face turned a beautiful shade of pink as she eyed the bowl in his hand, she clearly regretted her kind action. “Then I’m sorry to bother you,” she said stiffly.
“You aren’t bothering me at all,” he assured her. “In fact, you’re the very person I need, Maggie.”
Before she could do more than stare at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.
Maggie didn’t know what threw her off center the most—the tingles his touch sent up her arm or the claim from the most independent, do-it-himself man she’d ever met that he needed her. Although her heart warmed at hearing the words, she also knew that being needed was her weak point. She hadn’t fully recovered from the last time a man had taken advantage of her good nature with those words.
“Excuse me?” she asked politely as she found herself in his foyer, where she heard a baby wailing.
“I don’t know who else to turn to,” he admitted. “When you showed up on my doorstep…trust me when I say you’re a gift from heaven.”
She eyed him with suspicion, purposely staring at his face to avoid the sight of his wide chest, the well-defined muscles under his snug-fitting gray T-shirt, and the runner’s legs revealed by his athletic shorts. “A gift? Come on, Donatelli. This is me you’re talking to, not one of your weekend bimbos. Are you sure you haven’t been nipping the cough syrup?”
“I haven’t taken a drop,” he insisted. “I just need a few pointers…”
The wailing grew louder until she saw the source of the noise crawling toward them in a pink sleeper. The little girl with tousled light brown curls and a scowl on her pixie face dragged a lopeared bunny in a tight-fisted hand.
“You’re
