Was he misreading her, or did the sudden downturn of her lips mean she was disappointed not to be staying? She’d cuddled the baby closer, as well. As if she didn’t want to let her go.
“Thanks, but I’ve already got leave for today, so I’m good.”
“Um…” She nibbled her lower lip. “Tomorrow will be fine.” Without meeting his gaze, she passed off the baby to him, then grabbed her purse.
“Do we need to talk about what I can pay you?”
Already at the door, she said, “Whatever you can afford will be fine.”
“Sure?”
She nodded, then hurried outside.
Okay, when it came to dealing with women, he’d never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but had he done or said something to tick this woman off?
He didn’t have the opportunity to find out, as she’d already crossed the yard, climbed into a black Volvo station wagon then, without so much as a wave, sped out of his life.
Seeing how Vicki had left much the same way, Jace was starting to get a complex.
Emma would return in the morning, wouldn’t she?
LEAVING her new employer’s house, Emma trembled so badly that she had to pull onto the side of the quiet road. Tears followed. Hot and messy. The kind that well up from deep inside and for her, take hours to subside fully.
Holding the baby girl had been both exhilarating and heartbreaking. Emma had never wanted to let her go. When Jace told her she wasn’t immediately needed, it didn’t compute. The rational part of her realized her baby was gone. But that other part…
Tightening her grip on the wheel, Emma forced a deep breath. She had to pull herself together. She had to use this opportunity to heal, to stop the slide deeper into her solitary existence. Was it wrong of her to want to prove her ex the fool she believed him to be? In blaming her for their son’s death, Rick had hurt her to her core. He’d transformed an already impossible situation into Emma’s own private hell.
For that, she’d forever hate him.
What she would not do was succumb to his accusations. In caring for Jace’s twins, she’d prove to herself that she’d been an amazing mother. Henry’s death had been an unexplainable mystery. Something she’d never truly understand. What she could grasp was the fact that this Marine needed her, and she needed his girls.
Chapter Three
“That’s the official tour,” Jace said. At six-fifteen Monday morning, after having been up most of the night trying to quiet tag-team-crying twins, he was hardly at his best. It was a good thing he was scheduled for maintenance rather than flight. “Questions?”
Emma shook her head.
In the makeshift nursery, she stood alongside the crib, smoothing her hand along the nearest infant’s back. Her smile was serene. Her posture relaxed. He’d had his doubts as to whether she’d even return, but she’d been five minutes early, bearing a canvas tote loaded with what she called supplies. When she hadn’t been looking, he’d sneaked a peak. Lullaby books, DVDs, plush toys and clothes.
“Your references checked out.”
“Oh?” As if in a trance, she didn’t look up from the crib. “That’s good.”
“All four were surprised, though, by your choice of work. You used to be in finance?”
She shrugged. “In another life.”
“You’ve got a Master’s from Stanford.”
“Your point being?”
“Aren’t you kind of overqualified?” It wasn’t in his nature to pry, but the woman would be spending a lot of alone time with his kids. “I mean, most of the women I interviewed had only been to high school.”
“Is there any shame in that?” The hard look she cast over her shoulder said she didn’t appreciate getting the third degree. He didn’t care.
“Not at all, and kindly don’t put words in my mouth. College doesn’t prove a man or woman’s worth. It’s what’s in here—” he patted his chest “—that counts.”
“I agree.”
Sharply exhaling, Jace glanced at the ceiling, then back to her. “Look, the last thing I want to do is argue with you, Em.”
“My name’s Emma. I don’t think we should get too informal.”
O-kay. “All I’m trying to say is that I found it surprising how well-educated you are. I can only afford to pay minimum wage, but you clearly deserve more.”
“Did I complain?”
“No, but…” What was it about him that seemed to draw impossible women like a magnet? He glanced at his watch. Twelve minutes to get to the hangar. “Never mind. Sorry I brought it up.”
Her crossed arms and pressed lips told him she was, too. Sorry, that is, that he’d commented on her past. But hell, what had she expected?
“Is there a number you can be reached at in case of emergency?” Her tone had softened, he noted thankfully.
“Yeah. I put together a list of them and taped it to the fridge.” On his own, such a thing never would’ve occurred to him, but Pam had insisted.
“Thanks. What time should I expect you home?”
That depended. After his duty, he usually grabbed a couple of beers and shot pool with the guys. “Do I have to come straight home? With the babies and all, it’s been a while since I’ve hung with my friends.”
“Take your time,” she said, shoulders sagging as if strangely relieved he’d be late. “Have fun. I’ve got everything under control.”
Though Jace didn’t doubt that, he did wonder how exactly the MBA had earned her caretaking experience.
“IS YOUR NANNY hot?” Jace’s chief maintenance officer, “Red” Murphy asked from his stool at Jar’s Bar—their favorite hangout.
Jace—known to the guys as Leadfoot—rolled his eyes. “For the record—yeah. She’s hot. But since when do I have time for women?”
Granola butted in with, “Looks like you had plenty of time the night your kids were conceived.”
Jace gave his friend a slug. “Knock it off. For what I’ve been through, you all owe me a round.”
Red snorted. “A round of baby formula.”
“Jace, you should be home,” Pam said, swigging her beer. “You have responsibilities now.” Usually, women weren’t allowed at guys’ night, but she’d crashed. Out of respect for Granola, the guys had voted to let her stay. Although now Jace was thinking he might need to rescind his vote. “It’s not right for you to let that poor sitter
