late-afternoon sun played on his dark hair, pulling forth highlights of deep mahogany. Clint was one of the few men she knew who wore a uniform well. The dark-brown slacks fit his long legs and lean hips as if tailor-made just for him. The tan shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders as he reached into the car trunk and withdrew what appeared to be the wooden parts of a crib.
She knew she should go out and help him with the load, but she still harbored a touch of resentment that he’d managed to involve her in this whole situation. He’d manipulated their friendship and her genuine caring for him, and she was—exactly where she didn’t want to be.
However, her irritation with him didn’t stop her from opening the door for him as he stepped up on the front porch.
“Where did you get that?” she asked as he maneuvered the wooden railings and child-size mattress through the door and into the living room.
“Etta Mae let me borrow it.” He leaned the pieces against the wall and threw a smile in Kathryn’s direction. “I’ve got more stuff out there,” he said. “Be right back.”
Once again she watched as he raced back out to the car. He waved at one of his neighbors, then opened the back car door and pulled out several plastic shopping bags.
As he walked back toward the house, Sherry wondered what it was that had kept him single all these years. He was a handsome man, with clean-cut features and blue eyes that promised intelligence and humor. He was considered the major catch of Armordale, yet rarely dated and had never come close to marriage other than with her.
“Etta Mae made me a list of things I’d need,” he said when he was back in the house and unloading the shopping bags.
Etta Mae was the fifty-six-year-old woman who worked as a dispatcher at the sheriff’s office. She was combination co-worker, mother and confidante to the men she worked with, calling out codes and procedure with the same confidence she offered wisdom and advice.
“Rice cereal, baby food, more diapers…” He crouched and pulled each item from the bags and placed them on the floor next to him. “Rattles, teething ring, sleepers.”
Sherry eyed the array of items. “This doesn’t look like a two-week stay,” she observed.
Clint stood and shrugged. “Babies require a lot of stuff.” He pulled the last item from the bag, a stuffed white bear with a bright pink bow.
“Ah, yes, that definitely looks like a must,” she observed dryly.
He shrugged again and smiled sheepishly. “I couldn’t resist.” His blue eyes danced with pleasure as he set the soft bear next to Kathryn.
Of course he couldn’t resist, Sherry thought with a pang to her heart. Every daddy should buy their daughter their first teddy bear. “I already ate supper and fed her. Her diaper has just been changed so she shouldn’t need anything for a little while. Since you’re home now, I’ll go unpack and get settled into the spare room.”
He looked at her in surprise, his dark brows pulling together. “You already ate? I thought maybe we’d, you know, eat dinner together.”
“You can’t fool me, Clint Graham,” she replied as she picked up the baby paraphernalia from the floor. “You assumed you would come home to a nice, home-cooked meal—a meal I would have slaved over all afternoon.” She grinned at him knowingly. “I always suspected you harbored a latent streak of chauvinism in your heart.”
He laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “All right. I’ll confess, I did have a little fantasy of walking in this evening and smelling the savory scent of dinner cooking. As I remember, you used to make a mean hamburger casserole.”
“That was a long time ago. I don’t do much cooking anymore.” Sherry carried the teddy bear and other items into the kitchen, aware of Clint trailing behind her. “I’m here to take care of the baby while you’re at work,” she said as she placed the baby food in the cabinet. “But I’m not here to take care of you.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ringing with sincerity. “And I do appreciate what you’re doing for me…and for Kathryn.” He said the baby’s name with a lilt in his tone, a tone that told her he’d not only accepted the possibility that Kathryn was his but considered it probable.
As Sherry placed the last of the items in the cabinet, Kathryn let loose a wail from the living room. Sherry turned and looked at Clint. “I’m officially off duty. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
Without waiting for his reply, she left the kitchen, went down the hallway and into the spare room. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, conflicting emotions bubbling inside her.
Baby beds and baby food. Rattles and stuffed bears. They were all things she’d put behind her, wishes that belonged to another woman, a lifetime ago.
She shoved herself away from the door and unpacked the few articles of clothing she’d brought. It’s not Clint’s fault, a little voice niggled inside her. And it isn’t Kathryn’s fault. Neither of them had manufactured the situation, yet Sherry had been subtly punishing them both from the moment she’d reluctantly agreed to help Clint out.
She finished unpacking her few toiletries, then sank down on the edge of the bed. Clint’s baby. It’s what Sherry had wanted for him. It was why she’d broken their engagement years before. She’d wanted him to have all the things she’d never have…like babies.
If the baby did belong to Candy, then what on earth would possess the woman to leave her on Clint’s doorstep with nothing but a vague note?
Of course, in Candy’s case the dire circumstances might be anything from a jealous wife after her hide, to the lure of a Caribbean cruise, where a small child would cramp her style.
In any case she was once again brought back to the fact that none of this was Clint’s fault. When he’d asked for her help, she’d had the option of giving it or not. She’d chosen to be here, but so far had acted rather poorly.
She stood, deciding an apology was in order. Before she could reach the door to leave the room, a knock sounded. “I’m sorry to bother you,” Clint said when she opened the door.
He’d changed out of his uniform and was now clad in a pair of worn jeans and a navy T-shirt. “Could you help me put the crib together? It would be easier with two people instead of one.” He held up a screwdriver and a pair of pliers.
“Of course,” she agreed. “Where are you going to set it up?” she asked as they went back into the living room.
“Uh…” He frowned a moment, thinking. “I guess in my bedroom. If you’ll grab Kathryn, I’ll carry all the parts in there.”
“Okay,” Sherry agreed. She swooped the baby up in her arms, drawing in a deep breath of baby fragrance. The scent created a blend of joy and torment inside her.
Clint’s large bedroom was a study in masculinity. A navy spread adorned the king-size bed, and a heavy, dark-wood double dresser took up much of the length of one wall. Scenic pictures of trout streams adorned the walls. A wooden mallard duck with a scooped-out back for pocket change sat on the dresser amid a variety of cologne bottles.
Clint carried the baby-bed parts to the empty space in front of the single window the room contained.
