Tender Loving Care

Chapter Eight

Just as Zoe lifted the toothbrush to her mouth, the bathroom door was nudged open. “Morning, Snookums.” Parker was still trailing his blanket.

“Morning, pumpkin,” she replied to the wearer of the sagging teddy-bear pajamas, and whisked an eye to the doorway where his sidekick stood.

“Morning, Snookums.” Aaron yawned.

“Morning, lovebug.” Her hips shifted back to make room as both boys climbed up on stools and reached for their toothbrushes. Especially this morning, she would have appreciated an ounce of privacy, but the assembly line was already being organized. They brushed and spit in a harmonious trio, followed by three face washes, and then immediately the boys scrambled up on the vanity and perched on either side of her. Aaron patiently held the hairbrush and Parker automatically started to open lipstick tubes to figure out which one matched her outfit. Some day that decision could take time, but today her outfit for work was jeans and a fisherman’s sweater. Parker could choose any color he liked, his favorite game.

“Which perfume today, Zoe?” Aaron asked sleepily.

“This one. You can spray it.” Neither showed the least expression when she unlocked the medicine cabinet to remove a vial of perfume, though they both knew darn well she usually kept the scents on the dresser in her bedroom. “Did you give Uncle Rafe a hard time yesterday?” she asked casually.

Two small jaws dropped. “’Course not. We were wonderful,” Parker assured her.

“I take the question back,” Zoe said wryly. “Let’s put it this way. You are going to go easy on Uncle Rafe today, understand?”

“Sure.”

“Sure.”

“Because if you go very easy on Uncle Rafe today, late this afternoon you can come visit me and my whales.”

“We will be awesome.”

She listened patiently to the rash promises. Aaron was going to make lunch for everyone. Parker was going to remember to flush every time. Both planned to cultivate silence. No one was going to hit anyone even if Aaron hit him first.

“’Scara, Zoe?”

“Thank you.” With the mascara wand in her hand, she leaned closer to the mirror, her movement mimicked by the two urchins, who never seemed to lose their fascination with the mascara wand. She’d just finished one eye when a fourth reflection appeared in the mirror.

All she could think of was: and now we pay the piper.

The man standing behind her was wearing navy blue pajama bottoms, which were tied with a drawstring below his navel. His arms were loosely folded over a golden chest peppered with dark hair. His whiskered chin gave him an unkempt, dangerous look; his muscled shoulders again made Zoe think of a lumberjack’s, and there was an elemental maleness about this particular man-fresh-out-of-bed that set her nerve endings rippling like the stir of a breeze on the surface of a cool, smooth pond.

His slash of a smile set off waves of more intimate proportions. Suddenly and privately conscious of a delicate tenderness between her legs directly related to the man in question, Zoe felt color seep up her cheeks. It deepened when he uncrossed his arms and moved directly behind her.

“You helping Zoe get dressed?” he asked the twins.

“We always help her,” Aaron affirmed. “She couldn’t do it without us.”

“And I can see you do a terrific job.” Yawning, he reached for his toothbrush…by sliding both arms under Zoe’s from behind her, and made the boys giggle when he applied toothpaste to the brush the same way.

“You look like you got four arms, Snookums!”

And one set was distinctly male, not to mention what was pressing intimately against her back. She scolded him with her eyes in the mirror.

“Shouldn’t I be brushing my teeth in front of the kids?”

Such innocence, and she must have jumped sky high when the fingers of his left hand walked all the way down her spine and ended up with a private little pat. “We’ll just go out and start breakfast,” she said swiftly.

He behaved no better in the kitchen. When she leaned over the table to pour Corn Flakes, her fanny was treated to a surreptitious squeeze. When she reached into the refrigerator for milk, Rafe reached in front of her, slid his hand over her breast and emerged with butter for toast. At the sink, he stood behind her length to length. At the table, he brushed imaginary toast crumbs from her lips. When she bent down for goodbye kisses at the door, Rafe was third in line. He managed a loud smack like the kids, but those weren’t a child’s eyes staring back at her. They were a man’s, and that unrepentant grin made sure she knew it.

She reached for the doorknob with a heart gone thumping and her nerves in shreds.

“Forgot your jacket, Zoe,” he said idly.

“Yes.” She rushed back to the front closet for her navy parka.

“Forgot your purse, Zoe.”

The shoulder strap was dangling from his finger. Completely addled, she snatched that, too.

“Zoe?”

She turned back one last, exasperated time.

“Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything else,” he said cheerfully from the door.

Over lunch with her coworkers, Zoe considered sending Rafe a package of darts in payment for his dangerous sense of humor. She knew exactly what he didn’t want her to forget. The foolish man-if she were knocked out, half dead, unconscious or suffering from amnesia, she still couldn’t forget having made love with him the night before.

But she wasn’t about to pretend that making love solved their problems. She knew it simply aggravated them. For the long term, the twins had to come first. Slowly, her feelings about children had been changing over the past four weeks. Long-closed emotional doors were creaking open, sometimes painfully. Possibilities skimmed the corners of her mind, but nothing she was absolutely sure of yet, any more than she was sure of Rafe. No matter how often she’d seen him bestowing love and caring on the kids, he’d never once mentioned his willingness to take them on without her. All she knew-all she could know-was that making the best long-term decisions for the children had to be her first priority.

But those decisions didn’t have to be handled quite yet, and it was short-term options that plagued her as she slid on a wet suit later in the afternoon. Rafe wasn’t going to be content with making love one time, she knew that.

And she didn’t want him to. Before Rafe, she’d never had to face how seriously both the surgery and Steven’s rejection had affected her confidence as a woman. Because of Rafe, she was coming out of limbo. Feeling again, hurting again, living again, wanting again.

Zoe, you’re in such trouble…

“She’s in the third holding tank. Come on, I’ll show you.” Sandy bobbed a grin at the two boys and threw a quick appreciative glance at Rafe before pushing open the lab door.

Rafe bundled the twins into their jackets, which he’d unzipped during the makeshift tour of the lab and institute Sandy had insisted on giving them.

“Where is she?” Parker tugged at his arm.

Which was the problem that was twisting his gut. According to the little brunette, Zoe was in the water. With a blasted whale. Evidently, she spent a great deal of her time in the water with whales.

Teeth clenched and adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream, he leaned against the metal fence with the kids and waited. When a sleek white fin emerged on top of the water, he felt his stomach tighten up in an acid ball. When the whale arched in the water and lunged back down, he caught a glimpse of the mammal’s size and came darn close to losing his lunch. Zoe was in there? Sure, she’d told him what she did for a living, but if he’d really had any idea…

“Well, hi! Darn it, I expected to be done by the time you guys got here!”

“Zoe!”

“Snookums!”

Both boys rushed over to the ladder. Rafe had to wait a minute before the bile trickled back down to his stomach. In a sleek black wet suit, she looked even more petite and far more vulnerable than usual. Halfway up the ladder, she tugged off the hood and tossed her hair. Her smile was natural and infectious, her eyes sparkling with life.

“Well? Did you see George?” she asked the little ones.

“Is that George?” Aaron motioned to the water.

“That’s George…probably the biggest baby in the entire Pacific. Not that he’s so large for an orca, he isn’t; he just seems to require more pampering than your average ten whales put together.”

“Did you pet him, Zoe?”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I did with him in just a second.” After peeling off her scuba gear, she tugged off her flippers and then started to unzip her wet suit, talking all the while.

She told the kids how whales had a fantastic gift called echolocation. “See, toothed whales, like the orca, can send out sound beams so powerful that they can detect the presence of their prey, or their enemies, and they can use those same sound beams to find their way if the water’s dark or murky.” She told them that when something went wrong with a whale’s echolocation powers, it could become disoriented and confused; it could even swim toward shore and get stranded at low tide. She told them about the experiment she was doing with George, and a two-ton magnet in the water. “See, the deal is this, guys. Scientists figured out that those sound beams are affected by magnetism. You know what a magnet is, don’t you? And whales are incredibly smart, but not smart enough to understand that certain parts of the land are loaded with magnetism-just as if there were zillions of little magnets in the ground. And we don’t want those whales to get stranded, so we figured…”

The kids asked questions almost faster than she could answer them. Rafe listened, and loved her. Her hair dried fast in the brisk breeze, and locks of chestnut silk fluttered around her face. Her skin turned pink from cold, and she shivered when she first climbed out of the wet suit and tugged on a navy sweatshirt that was obviously three sizes too large for her. Her slim hands moved expressively when she talked; he loved those hands.

Memories of last night washed over him like a fog. He couldn’t let her go. She was a blend of fragility and incredible courage, all give and subtle stubbornness. Animated like this, she gave the impression that she thrived on blithe laughter. He’d never met a more complex woman, or one so deeply caring at the core.

“You sure that doesn’t hurt George?”

Zoe leaned over to ruffle Aaron’s hair. “Of course I’m sure, lovebug. I’d never do anything to hurt George. In fact, he’s perfectly free to go whenever he wants, but he’s sort of adopted us here. See, he lost his mom, and we fed him from the time he was a baby, so I think he’s got this idea he’s half human-”

“You have some kind of weapon when you’re down in the water?”

“Weapon?” She raised surprised green eyes to Rafe’s. At that exact instant, he felt something tight begin to ease inside him. She just looked at him, but it was the way coral suddenly touched her cheeks, the way her lips parted, and the sparkle in her eyes turned helplessly soft. All day long, he’d been afraid she’d do something damn foolish, like think too analytically about what had happened the night before. All day long, he’d been braced for the argument that last night had been a one-time-only occurrence for her.

He knew she wasn’t ready to talk about a lifetime commitment; he knew she didn’t yet believe such a commitment was possible for her, not in any relationship where children were involved. Truthfully, he was so certain he’d have a fight on his hands when he saw her today that her soft smile took him aback. Maybe that enigmatic curve of her lips disturbed him even more than a fight would have.

“A weapon, Zoe. Do you go down there protected, in case something goes wrong?”

She shook her head. “Of course not.”

“You usually go down with another diver, at least?”

“Often, yes, but not always. There’s a monitor in the lab, and no one’s ever down for long without someone checking, so occasionally we dive alone. Some whales, particularly the orcas, develop confidence in only one person.” She cocked her head, as if trying to fathom the reason for his questions. “Rafe, even a toothed whale wouldn’t hurt a human unless it was threatened or hungry. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.”

“Exactly how much does George weigh?”

“I don’t know, somewhere around three tons, I imag-”

“Get dressed, would you? You and I are going to have a little talk.”

He delivered his little talk on the beach after dinner, to Zoe’s amusement. He phrased his questions very carefully, so he wouldn’t come across as a Neanderthal-macho-chauvinist. “Look, you could rent out boats if you like the water so much. Or teach oceanography. Or run an aquarium…”

The boys had raced ahead and were playing catch with the tide. The wind had calmed down like a dream, and the water had the sheen of a green pearl blanket. Waves lapped softly, with a rhythm like music and a salt-sting freshness that she inhaled greedily and that was heady as champagne. She tucked her arm in Rafe’s to comfort him because he was so distraught. “Have I said one word about your work with earthquakes? You’re going to tell me that doesn’t have an element of danger in it?”

“That’s completely different.”

“Certainly it is. Because you’re a male, you ox.”

He gave a frustrated sigh. “This has nothing to do with my being a man. It has to do with you being damn fool enough to play with three-ton breaching ‘babies.’”

“Earthquakes are harmless, hmm?”

“I study them. I don’t make a point of being there when one hits.”

“I study whales. And I’m really outstanding at avoiding those that aren’t too fond of humans.”

“You’re only a hundred and ten pounds!” Rafe roared.

“So that’s it.” She nodded sagely. “I can’t tell you how easily that problem’s solved. All we have to do is buy doughnuts on the way home. Believe me, I could gain another two pounds really fast.”

He knew better than to push Zoe, but damn the woman! It wasn’t his fault; she gave him no immediate choice. He swung her around and laced his arms around her neck and clamped down on her lips fast and hard. He wanted her safe. Preferably naked, warm, beneath him safe, and then if she was still in a sassy mood, he’d welcome that, too.

His hands wandered through her hair. The silky strands were all wind-rumpled; her cheeks had the slightest coat of salt, and her lips tasted sweet, far too sweet. Her tongue flicked between them, and he thought with despair, More sass. Now how am I supposed to stay mad at you, Zoe…

Her arms curled around his neck, and he knew the exact moment she went up on tiptoe; her slim thighs pressed against his for balance at the exact same time the blood surged through his veins like whitewater rapids. The slight but deliberate rotation of her pelvis against him was unmistakable. Her hand climbed back down from his neck, and her fingertips drew lines down his spine, little teasing lines that ended brazenly on his rear end. The little witch was pressing. There wasn’t a chance in hell he could be seen in public for the next twenty minutes.

He broke off the kiss only because there was a damn good chance she was going to be naked in three seconds flat in front of all Puget Sound if he didn’t. He glanced up swiftly, but the kids were now a good distance from the water, climbing and sliding down a miniature sand dune. Still, kids and water were always a potentially dangerous combination, and he forced his pulse to climb down from the sky. His eyes flickered back to Zoe. “You realize what’s going to happen to you when they’re asleep, don’t you?”

“I have a fairly good idea.”

“You don’t have any idea,” he corrected gruffly.

She nodded agreeably, but her eyes were dancing. “I guess I don’t have any idea.”

“Your jeans-I’m going to have a particularly good time peeling off those jeans of yours.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m going to kiss you. Starting with your toes. Working up to the backs of your knees. I’m going to kiss your thighs. And you know what I’m going to do to you then?” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek possessively. He suddenly understood her fascination with the sea. Her eyes were like the sea, fathomless, silver-green, lonely sometimes, dancing with exhilaration sometimes, secretive sometimes. Her eyes were secretive now, filled with a woman’s secrets, elusive, compelling, disturbing. “Why aren’t you fighting me?” he whispered.

“Would it do any good?”

“None at all.”

The wisp of a smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I came to that same conclusion. Would you like to hear me say that I want you, Rafe? Because I do. And that I love you? Because I think I fell just a little bit in love with you as far back as a wedding six years ago.”

Her words might have satisfied him yesterday. “I want you to see that there’s nothing we can’t work out. But that solutions that start with two are best. With you and me. With being honest about what we have.”

She said nothing, just offered him a smile.

“Zoe?”

The children bounded up, and there wasn’t a prayer on earth he could get his answer after that.

She gave him back rubs most evenings. He needed them. One night he made brownies-he claimed it was his one baking specialty and it was, but she’d never seen a kitchen so completely destroyed at the end of the little project.

“I’ll clean it up,” he promised. “You weren’t supposed to come in here until I was finished.”

“What did you do, mix them on the floor?” She grabbed the dishcloth and started filling the sink with sudsy water.

He got out a sponge mop and attacked the chocolate-spattered floor. “No criticism of the cook allowed until his product’s been tasted.”

“I can’t taste them,” she said swiftly. “I’m sure they’re terrific, Rafe, but I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I have this thing about brownies.”

“I know that. You crazy woman, why on earth do you think I made them?”

She shook her head firmly. “If I could stop at one-but the thing is, I’ve never had the strength of will to stop at one. And they go straight here, Rafe.” She clapped her hands ruefully on her hips.

His frown looked dead serious as he rinsed out the mop and put it away. “Where do they go?”

“To my-”

“Show me exactly.”

“Behave,” she said in the ominous tone of a schoolmarm.

“You’ve got room for one brownie here. And another one here. And if we unbutton your jeans-”

“We?”

He popped a chunk of brownie between her lips. “Besides, I know an excellent way to work off calories. Chew fast, sweet. You’re going to like this exercise program.”

Zoe toyed with a pencil and stared unseeing at the stack of papers on her lap. Feet propped on the desk, she had a report to do that was going to be finished by lunch if it killed her. A staff meeting was scheduled for one; she had to concentrate.

Only she couldn’t think. They were nearing the end of the second week in Washington. At the end of three weeks, Rafe’s leave would be over and he would have to return to Montana. They had to decide what to do about the children.

They had to decide what to do about the two of them as well.

For two weeks, they’d tucked the kids into bed and then played. For two weeks, Zoe had had a lover of a kind she could never possibly find again. For two weeks, she’d slept, breathed, imbibed being in love with him. For two weeks, she’d been able to feel herself growing stronger and stronger as a woman, and that was the exact draw of Rafe, the exact reason why she’d never been able to say no to him.

She was a passionate lady with a right to express her feelings. She had a right to feel good about herself. To feel whole. To feel wanted for herself. Rafe had ingrained all of those feelings in her until a new Zoe had taken shape, a woman who was not afraid of children, a woman who was not afraid she was less than adequate, a woman who finally felt ready to let good healthy scars heal over the old wounds, and go on.

She’d fallen in love with a man and two children over the weeks they’d been together. The pencil broke in her hands, and she stared at it, distressed. She’d been living with a rash of secret maybes for days. Maybe the four of them could make it work. Maybe she no longer needed a contract signed in blood. Maybe Rafe’s feelings for her had nothing to do with wanting a caretaker for the kids.

Unfortunately, she was less and less sure of his feelings for the boys. She knew-dammit, she knew he loved them. He wasn’t a selfish man, but he kept making little comments to the effect that she shouldn’t jump to the conclusion that he was ready to handle them. He claimed he couldn’t. He claimed he wanted a lifestyle built around two, not four.

She’d kept thinking time would change his mind. Six weeks might not be enough time, but it was all they had. The situation was complicated by their work, which forced them to live in different states. How would they solve that problem?

But there was no solution at all if Rafe really didn’t want the kids. She couldn’t desert them. Her doubts about being a good mother were still strong, but not like before. How could she possibly choose between the only man who’d ever really mattered to her and the children, who had no one but Rafe and her?

Guilt racked her like pain. She was the one who’d put them all in a position of emotional risk. If she’d been less selfish, none of this would have happened. If Rafe had been less than Rafe, if she’d needed him less, if she could have loved him less, if she’d never let that first kiss happen, if she’d never…a thousand guilts pounded in her head. She couldn’t seem to live with any of them.

A phone jangled in the next office, and she’d swung her feet off the desk before she heard Sandy’s bright voice answering it.

“Zoe?”

Dragging a hand through her hair, she picked up her receiver.

“Zoe. Parker’s sick. Come home, would you?”

She was home within twenty minutes. As she burst through the door, she wasn’t absolutely sure who looked sicker, Parker or Rafe. Wrapped in Rafe’s arms, the little boy clutched his blanket; his eyes were teary and his complexion so white her heart turned over. But Rafe-until now she’d never seen him less than cool in an emotional crisis. His face was drained to ash color, his eyes were frantic and his hair looked as though he’d run his hands through it a thousand times. As he paced the room with Parker, Aaron trailed after the two of them like a forlorn waif.

“He was fine this morning,” she said swiftly.

“His fever’s a hundred and one! He was perfectly okay, and then all of a sudden-”

“I’ll call a doctor.”

“We’re not calling a doctor. We’re going to a doctor.”

“Yes.”

“Or a hospital. Dammit, where’s the closest hospital?”

In every problem with the kids, she’d been the one to panic and he’d been the rock. For that reason alone, she strove for patience as Rafe strode through a crowded doctor’s office and tried to bully the nurse into scheduling Parker as an emergency. Not that a far too warm Parker wasn’t downright miserable, but there was a child with a broken leg and another little one with a cut on her arm that obviously needed stitching.

And Dr. Thornby’s examining room barely held two, much less four. Zoe took the only chair, with Aaron on her lap. Rafe stood beside her, his hands crammed in his pockets, while the young doctor bent over an irritable Parker. Rafe had taken one look at Thornby and decided he didn’t like the town’s only pediatrician.

“He’s too damn young,” Rafe mouthed to Zoe.

“For heaven’s sake, would you give him a chance?” she mouthed back.

“If you put that stick in my mouth, I’m going to throw up all over you,” Parker warned the doctor. “I hate doctors, and so does my brother.”

“See, the kids don’t even like him,” Rafe mouthed to Zoe. “I think he’s a quack.”

“Rafe.” This time Zoe spoke aloud. She stood up, still holding Aaron, and handed him to Rafe. “Sit,” she ordered him firmly, received a look of shocked surprise and wandered over to Parker.

“Listen, lovebug,” she told the boy, “I know you don’t feel good, but in this family we don’t talk about hating anyone. Ever. If we’re scared, we say we’re scared. Okay, monkey?”

The doctor shot her a wink. “Believe me, I’ve been through this before. Not to worry.” A few minutes later, he adjusted his stethoscope around his neck and said quietly to Zoe, “He has a little cold and a very mild ear infection-”

“Mild!” Rafe snorted from the corner.

“-which I can treat with an antibiotic. It’ll clear up in a few days. I’ll give you a prescription for a nonaspirin fever reducer, too. Bring Parker back in a week for a checkup. He should be perfectly healthy by then. In fact, it’s my best guess he’ll be stomping around in three days.” He leaned over to pat Parker’s knee and then smiled at Zoe. “For the father, I prescribe two straight shots before dinner and an early bedtime.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Hasn’t he ever seen the child with a little cold before?”

Parker peered around the adult bodies to level fever-glazed eyes on his brother. “Did you hear that? Uncle Rafe has to have the shots.”

It was an hour before they were back home, because they had to stop at a drugstore for the prescriptions. By then, Zoe had high hopes Rafe would turn back into Rafe. Instead, she was ready to ship him off to the nearest asylum by the kids’ bedtime. She was as concerned as he was, but pacing around the house like a caged tiger was not helping. And trying to reason with a four-year-old about why he had to swallow terrible-tasting medicine was all very nice, but it went on for thirty minutes until Zoe tipped the tablespoon in Parker’s mouth and held his lips closed until he swallowed.

“That,” Rafe said heavily, “was cruel.”

Zoe set a shot glass in front of him and went into the other room to get the kids into their pajamas. Aaron closed his eyes the minute his head hit the pillow, but Parker wasn’t about to sleep. “My ear hurts, and I can’t breathe when I lie down,” he complained.

“We’ll fix it so you don’t have to lie down,” she whispered back. Bringing in the rocker from the living room, she swaddled Parker in a light blanket and rocked him. When his cheek cuddled sleepily on her shoulder, she closed her eyes and felt love ache through her like a surprise.

She’d known feelings were growing inside her for the twins, but not like this. For three years, every time she’d seen a child, she’d thought of the children she couldn’t have. For three years, she’d held her chin high and told the whole damn world she didn’t care. She cared. She’d always cared, but the wonder was holding and loving Parker and not having an ounce of emotional baggage intrude on that. Parker was himself, not the children she couldn’t have, not other children, not the source of something that had cut up her life. He was just…Parker. A little boy who needed someone to love him.

A little boy she loved very much.

Barely a half hour passed before Rafe appeared in the doorway. On stocking feet, he edged toward the bed. Aaron never moved when Rafe adjusted his blanket, or even when he sat down at the foot of the bed near the rocker.

“Is he asleep?” he whispered, nodding at Parker.

“Yes.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing, love.” The endearment slipped out.

His voice was as heavy as lead. “Zoe, it’s entirely my fault that he’s sick.” He leaned forward. In the darkness, his features were blurred and indistinct except for the dark orbs of his eyes. “I told you I took them to the park a few days ago. But I didn’t tell you it started to rain.”

“If you don’t stop this,” Zoe whispered patiently, “I’m going to call the doctor to get you a knock-out drug. Dammit, Rafe, can’t you remember getting a few sore throats and colds as a kid? And I’ve heard Janet say that Parker was prone to minor ear infections. The doctor said it was common and nothing to worry about. Getting wet never hurt anybody.”

He said nothing for a while, and then, “Do you want me to rock him?”

“I’m afraid to move him for fear he’ll wake up again.”

He nodded, then carefully eased himself down on the bed next to Aaron. Finally, he admitted in a whisper, “I can’t stand it, you know. Never could.”

“What?”

“Feeling helpless.”

At eleven she tried putting Parker back to bed, but he immediately woke and started whimpering. Rafe insisted on taking his turn in the rocker, and it was Zoe’s turn to lie down on the bed. Parker was asleep within seconds, and not long after that so was Rafe, his chin nestled on top of the child’s head.

Zoe couldn’t seem to move away from her three males, any more than she could go to sleep. She studied Rafe’s moonlit profile, loving him-maybe more so after today. Even a rock had the right to crumble sometimes. If she’d ever wondered what his Achilles’ heel was, she certainly knew now.

Rafe had no tolerance for feeling helpless, for not being able to help those he cared about. It seemed to Zoe the most endearing and human of weaknesses, but it disturbed her as well. It was the first clue she’d had as to why he didn’t want the responsibility of raising the children. Being a parent meant having to watch little ones stumble and fall, make mistakes and learn from them, suffer growing pains and colds.

Maybe day in, day out caretaking had taken its toll on Rafe. Instead of bringing him closer to the boys, perhaps the constant contact had sealed his feelings in the other direction. He had a fascinating job, an independent lifestyle that included travel and freedom. He valued privacy. Now, instead of enjoying stolen moments of lovemaking, he was faced with the prospect of wiping an urchin’s runny nose all night…How could she blame him for not wanting to make that kind of change in his life?

Parker woke three times in the night. She and Rafe took turns rocking him. In the morning, his fever was down; he ate two bowls of Corn Flakes and picked three fights with his brother. Rafe kept studying him in disbelief. Finally, he poured coffee and shook his head as he whispered to Zoe, “I don’t care what he looks like. I never want to go through another night like that one!”

She took a sip of the steaming brew, but it settled in her stomach like despair.