long as I can find the coffeepot.”
Zach took hold of her shoulders to steer her away from the kitchen, and when his hands came down on her, she jolted as if she’d been zapped by a live wire. His hands dropped away. “Why don’t you take Emma up to her bed while I make the coffee?”
She decided it was probably good advice and, ignoring the tingles that coursed through her veins in response to his touch, turned back to the sleeping child in the living room.
By the time she’d returned to the kitchen after checking Emma’s diaper and tucking her into her crib, the coffeepot was gurgling away.
“Boy or girl?” he finally asked, passing a mug across the counter to her.
For the first time since walking into the disaster zone that had once been her house—at least for the summer—she smiled. “Boy,” she answered. “Marcus Allan Richmond—for both of Megan’s and Gage’s fathers. Eight pounds ten ounces, twenty-two inches with big blue eyes and gorgeous blond curls.”
“And how’s the new mommy doing?” Zach lifted his own mug to drink.
“She’s great. Amazing. Overjoyed. And Gage was so thrilled with both his wife and new baby, he actually cried.”
“I’ll bet you did, too,” he guessed.
“Just a little,” she admitted.
“When did all of this finally happen?”
“11:47.”
Zach glanced at his watch. “You obviously didn’t hang around for very long after.”
“Long enough to congratulate the new mommy and daddy and steal a quick cuddle with the baby. But they had more than enough company to keep them busy through half of the night.”
“And—despite the fact that you called four times from the hospital—you were worried about Emma,” he guessed.
“Obviously with good reason.”
He shook his head. “Nah, she was in complete control. If you were going to worry about anyone, it should have been me.”
She smiled again. “I do appreciate you staying with her,” she said, and realized it was true. “It would have been a nightmare trying to keep her entertained at the hospital all night.”
“Instead, you came home to a nightmare.”
She closed her eyes and held a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’m trying not to think about that right now. Hopefully by morning I’ll have the energy to tackle the mess.”
“You look exhausted,” he noted. “Why don’t you head up to bed and I’ll load the dishes in the dishwasher before I head out?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You have to be at least as tired as I am.”
“I had a nap,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, you looked as if you were resting comfortably when I came in,” she noted drily.
“Believe me, your living-room floor is like a premium mattress in a five-star hotel compared to some of the places I’ve had to sleep.” Zach grinned and her heart hitched.
Honestly, the man’s smile was a potent weapon, and because Paige knew she was too weary to continue to fight, she opted for retreat. “Well, I’m looking forward to my real bed,” she said, taking her empty cup to the dishwasher.
“Go ahead,” Zach said. “I’ll lock up when I go.”
She hesitated, still not entirely sure she trusted him and yet all too aware that he’d given her no reason not to. And if he was willing to make a dent in the kitchen, she was certainly willing to let him. “If you’re sure,” she began.
“I’m sure. Good night, Paige.”
“Good night.”
Emma was, as usual, awake by six the next morning, which meant that Paige was, too. After changing the baby’s diaper, Paige tucked her against her hip and started down the stairs. When she stepped into the living room, she had a moment to wonder if she’d only dreamed the disaster she’d come home to the night before because the room was absolutely immaculate. Continuing on to the kitchen, she found that the same was true there.
She settled Emma in her high chair with a cup of juice and set about making a pot of coffee. Emma banged her sippy cup on the tray.
“Yes, I know you want breakfast,” she said soothingly, “but I need my caffeine kick in the morning.”
Emma banged her cup again but was somewhat appeased when Paige sprinkled a few Cheerios on her tray. She put the cereal box back in the cupboard and opened the fridge to retrieve the eggs and milk. When she closed the door again, the note tacked to it fluttered.
Please don’t call the police. I didn’t steal your car—I simply borrowed it to get to the B and B because you still have the keys to my Jeep. I’ll be back early in the a.m., but please call my cell (201-555-4757) if you need your car before then.
Zach
She set the eggs and milk on the counter before she retraced her steps to the living room, peering out the front window just in time to see her car pulling into the driveway beside the Jeep that was still parked there.
The driver’s side door of the Audi opened and Zach stepped out.
His blue eyes were shaded from the sun by dark glasses and he was casually dressed in a Just Do It T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and a pair of well-faded jeans that hugged his narrow hips. He truly was an exceptional specimen of masculinity and—judging by the speed with which Melanie Quinlan raced down her walk, practically dragging her Chihuahua behind her—she obviously wasn’t the only woman who thought so.
Though Paige couldn’t hear what Melanie said, she knew her neighbor had called out to Zach, because he turned to respond. But he didn’t chat with her for very long, since he was almost at the front door when Paige pulled it open.
Zach smiled and her pulse leaped.
“I’m not too early, then?” he said by way of greeting.
“No. Emma is an early bird.”
“And you’re not,” he guessed.
“I never used to be, but I’ve learned to adapt.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude on your morning,” he said, “but I wanted to get your car back before you needed it.”
“I was just going to make some eggs if you wanted to join us.”
“I didn’t come over here to be fed,” he protested, though not very vehemently.
“And if I wasn’t already planning on making breakfast, I wouldn’t have offered to feed you,” she told him.
“In that case, I’d love some
