moment, nevertheless Wendy was surprised to find herself actually falling through the doorway. Jonathon’s arms instantly wrapped around her, cradling her safely against his strong chest. One shoulder was pressed against him and her free hand automatically came up to the lapel of his suit jacket.
Suddenly she was aware of several things. The sharply crisp scent of his soap. The sheer breadth of his chest. And the clean, just-shaven line of his jaw, which was the first thing she saw when she looked up.
Normally, she did a decent job of ignoring it, but Jonathon Bagdon was the stuff of pure, girlish fantasies. He always looked on the verge of frowning, which lent his expression an air of thoughtful intensity. Though he rarely smiled, when he did, deep dimples creased his cheeks.
At just shy of six feet, he wasn’t too tall, but his physique more than made up for what he lacked in height. He had a build more suited to barroom brawls than boardroom negotiations. He was strong and muscular. She’d never seen his naked chest, but he had a habit of shucking his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt when he worked. Obviously she spent too much time looking at him. But until this moment, she’d never noticed he had a single mole on the underside of his perfectly square jaw.
Staring up into his green-brown eyes, she felt something unexpected pass between them. An awareness maybe. Some tension she’d never felt before. Or perhaps something she was too smart to let herself feel.
He swallowed. Fascinated, she watched the muscles of his throat shift mere inches from her face. She flattened her palm and pushed herself out of his arms.
She was all too aware of Jonathon’s gaze following her every move. And even more aware that her outfit was inappropriate for work. He’d never seen her in jeans before. Certainly not topped with her favorite T-shirt, a retro Replacements concert T-shirt she’d bought online as her twenty-first birthday present to herself. It was old and ratty and she’d cut the neck out of it years ago. But somehow the shirt was all comfort. And today, she needed comfort more than she needed professionalism.
But, dang it, she wished he would stop looking at her with that hungry look.
It wasn’t the first time in the five years they’d worked together that she’d seen him look at her like that. As if she was a temptation he had to resist. But it was the first time she’d allowed herself to feel even the faintest bit of need in return. Jonathon may be the stuff of feminine fantasies, but he was hell on women. She’d watched up close and personal as he’d trampled countless female hearts. She’d promised herself long ago that she’d never join the legions of women crushed by Jonathon Bagdon.
She could only hope that this new awareness she felt for him was the result of her exhaustion. Or perhaps her emotional vulnerability. Or maybe some bizarre hormone malfunction. At any rate, she wouldn’t be around long enough for it to matter.
Jonathon wanted to pull her back into his arms. He didn’t, of course. But he wanted to.
Instead, he held open the office door with one hand and shoved the other deep into his pants pocket, hoping to hide the effect her nearness had had on his body. As ridiculous as it was, in the few seconds he’d held his tempting little assistant against his chest, his body had responded. Only her shoulder and her palm had touched him and he’d still gone rock hard.
Of course, he’d felt that punch of desire for Wendy before. But normally he was better at schooling his response to her. Then again, she was usually dressed in blandly professional, business casual clothes. Not today. Her faded jeans were skintight and her T-shirt hung loose on her, its wide neck baring a tempting swath of collarbones, part of one shoulder and a hot pink bra strap.
He swallowed again, forcing his gaze back up to her face, searching for something to say. Something other than “Lose the shirt.”
“I trust your trip went well,” he finally ventured.
She frowned and took another step back.
Then he remembered she’d been to a funeral. Hardly the kind of trip that would go well. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he added. Her frown deepened. Were those tears in her eyes? “However, I am very glad to have you back.”
He sounded like an idiot. Which was not wholly unexpected. He didn’t deal well with emotional women.
“I—” she started.
Then she broke off again. She turned away from him and pressed her hands to her face. If the tension in her shoulders was any indication, she was about two seconds away from bursting into tears.
In five years, Wendy had been nothing but completely professional. If she was going to break into tears, why couldn’t she have done it when Ford was here to deal with her? Ford had three sisters, a mother, a stepmother, a wife and a daughter. Surely all of those women in his life had better prepared him for dealing with this sort of thing.
Jonathon followed her into the front office and placed a hand on her back. He meant it to be comforting, but he was instantly aware that he’d placed it on the shoulder bared by her shirt. She twisted to look at him, her eyes wide and surprised, damp with unshed tears, but lit with something else as well. Beneath his hand her skin was hot, the strap of her bra silky and tempting.
She bit her lip again before pulling free of his touch.
And then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of crying. But not a woman crying. And it wasn’t coming from Wendy.
Confused, he walked in and scanned the room for the source of the sound. It wasn’t all-out screaming. More of a soft, mewling noise. Like a puppy might make. The room appeared empty. He moved toward the sound as Wendy rushed up behind him and practically threw herself in his path.
“I can explain!” She held up her hands in front of her as if warding off an attack.
“Explain what?” He dodged around her to look behind the desk. Her chair had been shifted to the side and where Wendy normally sat was an infant’s car seat. And in that was a pale pink bundle.
He turned back to Wendy. “What is that?”
“That’s a baby.”
Jonathon’s shock was palpable.
If she didn’t know better, Wendy would have thought he’d never even seen a baby before. Though she imagined they were rare in his life, surely he had encountered at least one. After all, Ford had one himself. Jonathon must have been in the same room as his best friend’s child at some point.
She dashed around him and squatted beside the car seat. She gave the back of it a gentle nudge but Peyton continued to fuss. Peyton’s sleepy eyes flickered open, blinked and then focused on Wendy.
Something inside of Wendy tightened into a knot. A gut-level reaction to those bright blue eyes. Perhaps the only thing she’d ever felt that was actually stronger than that burst of attraction she’d felt for Jonathon just now.
Of course, she couldn’t have Jonathon. She wasn’t stupid enough to try. But for now, she did have Peyton. And she’d do anything in her power to keep her.
She unfastened the buckle strapping Peyton in and picked up the pink cotton bundle. Snuggling the baby close to her chest, she pressed her lips near Peyton’s ear and made shushing noises. Then she drew in a breath scented like tear-free shampoo and pure love.
Suddenly
