Baby Be Mine

And all she could do was hope that the trip they were about to embark on was short.

For a while, as Jace drove through town, neither of them said anything, and Clair was every bit as hyper-sensitive to his proximity as she’d feared she would be.

The scent of his woodsy, clean-smelling aftershave didn’t help. In fact it almost seemed to intoxicate her and make her even more aware of every little detail about him. Even more vulnerable to what she thought had to be just plain animal magnetism.

He seemed to be trying to give her as much space as he could, because he was hugging the driver’s side door, bracing his left elbow on the armrest and leaning his jawbone on his fist.

It was actually a pretty relaxed way to drive since he was using his right wrist to control the steering wheel on the straightaways, leaving his hand to dangle on the other side of the wheel.

But nothing could put more than an inch of distance between his thigh and hers, and Clair was excruciatingly aware of it. It left her with the inexplicable sense that she could feel the heat of that thigh seeping into her in a very sensual way….

“How far is this ranch you work on?” she asked, to escape her own reaction to him and in the hope that it wouldn’t be long before they got to their destination.

Jace looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled as if he could take offense to that question but chose not to. “The ranch is about ten miles outside of town. But I’m not a hired hand. It’s my family’s place. My place. My dad passed away three years ago after a heart attack, but my brothers and my mother and I keep it going.”

“Brothers—those would be the uncles you mentioned?”

“Right.”

“I didn’t count, but it sounded like there are a lot of them.”

“Five.”

“No sisters?”

“Nope. My dad always joked that my mom gave him sons because they couldn’t afford ranch hands.”

“So all six sons make their living on your family’s ranch?”

“Everybody but my brother Devon. He’s a veterinarian in Denver. The rest of us work the place, yeah, but we’ve all been known to pick up odd jobs here and there to supplement what the ranch brings in. My brother Josh, for instance, was just elected sheriff.”

By then they were on the outskirts of Elk Creek, and Clair began to see what she assumed were ranches or farms—she couldn’t tell the difference. Basically what she saw were huge stretches of open countryside with an occasional large house, barn or outbuilding sitting far back from the road.

Jace must have noticed her interest in the three houses they passed—all very impressive—because he said, “Our spread isn’t up to par with what you’re seein’ so far. We’re smaller.”

There was a note to his voice that told her it was a sore spot with him.

“So you live in town and just go out to your ranch to work? Is there not a house on it?”

“Sure there’s a house. I grew up in it, and my mother and brothers still live there. I just moved into town when I became Willy’s guardian—that house belonged to Billy and Kim. Now, technically, it’s Willy’s. But I thought Willy had had enough trauma, and he didn’t need to be moved out to the ranch on top of everything else.”

“It must be inconvenient for you to live in Elk Creek instead of on your land with your family, though.”

“Some, but it’s no big deal. I may consider moving back with Willy later on, renting out the house in town. The money from something like that could pay for Willy’s education when the time comes. Then, after he’s all grown-up he can take the place over. But for now this is what’s best for him.”

Clair glanced over at Willy. “So you’re already a homeowner, huh?” she joked.

Willy looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language and turned his head again.

“We’re just up the road,” Jace informed her as he turned off the main drag onto a flat dirt road that was a straight shot to a house that stood about a quarter of a mile ahead.

As they drew nearer Clair could see more details. The house was a two-story square box. A steep, black, shingled roof dropped eaves over three multipaned windows on the top level, and a matching roof shaded a wraparound porch on the lower level.

It was definitely not as fancy, as elaborate or as large as the houses they’d passed before, but it showed care in the flawless white paint and the black shutters that stood on either side of all the windows, including the two picture windows that looked out onto the porch.

There were homey, loving touches in the twin carriage lamps that adorned the shutters that bracketed the door, in the planters that hung in the center of each section of the cross-buck railing that surrounded the porch, and in the old-fashioned spindled benches and high-backed rocking chairs situated here and there.

But regardless of the care lavished on the place, it was still just an old farmhouse that couldn’t compare to those other houses they’d driven by.

“Mop?” Willy said excitedly, as Jace drove around the house to the big red barn behind it.

“She’s already gone by now, Willy. So’s everybody else.”

“Mop?” Clair repeated.

“That’s what he calls my mother. Near as we can tell he heard all of us calling her Mom, figured she wasn’t his mom, and settled for Mop.”

“Mop,” Willy said again in confirmation, as if it made perfect sense.

“We’re getting a late start today or the whole gang would be here and I’d introduce you. As it is, there’s no reason to go in when it’s the paddock fence I’m fixin’ today. But we have the run of the place if you need a bathroom or anything,” he informed her as he pulled the truck to a stop near the barn’s great door.

“I can keep Willy out of your way while you work,” Clair suggested.

“I hep you, Unca Ace,” Willy insisted, again with that two-year-old forcefulness, as if Clair were interfering.

“Uncle Ace?” she parroted, unable to suppress a laugh as she did.

“He doesn’t do too well with js,” Jace explained, giving her a sheepish grin that was so charming and endearing she didn’t have a doubt that it gave him tremendous leverage with whatever woman he used it on. Her included, although she didn’t want to admit it.

Then, to Willy, he said, “Yep, you can help me. And maybe we’ll put Clair to work, too.”

Willy scowled at her but didn’t come out with the usual no. That seemed to Clair like progress.

Jace got out of the truck, and Clair followed him, glancing around as he took Willy from the car seat.

Not that there was a lot to see—some farm equipment, a garage about the same size as the barn, with four doors and what looked to be an apartment on top. The winter’s remaining bales of hay were stacked in a lean-to. Several towering apple trees provided shade for the rear of the house and the mud porch that jutted out from it. A brick-paved patio held a picnic table, benches and stacked lawn chairs awaiting summer.

“There you go, little man,” Clair heard Jace say as he set Willy on his feet.

No sooner did he let go of the small boy than Willy took off like a shot for the barn, disappearing through the big open doors without a word to Jace.

“Where’s he going?” Clair asked.

“To say good morning to Tom. He’s our barn cat. Willy never gets near the barn without going in after him.”

“Would you mind if I went, too?”

“No, go ahead. I need to get the wood out of the truck and start work. I’ll be right over there.” He nodded toward the white rail fence that surrounded an area of dirt beside the barn. The paddock, Clair assumed, although it didn’t really matter to her what it was called.

Willy was all that was on her mind as she took off in the same direction he had, entertaining visions of the two of them bonding over the pet.

She expected to find boy and cat the moment she stepped through the barn’s main door but all she saw was a long center aisle with empty stall after empty stall lining both sides.

“Willy?” she called.

The child didn’t answer her, but from outside Jace’s booming baritone said, “He’ll be in the tack room.”

Clair wasn’t sure what a tack room was, but since there was a door at the end of the center aisle, she headed for that. Along the way she looked into each stall just in case, but to no avail. Neither Willy nor the cat were in any of them.

“Willy?” she called again tentatively as she approached the door.

She could see one end of a tall workbench. Harnesses, reins and various paraphernalia hung from hooks on the walls. But she still didn’t see her nephew or the cat.

Until she actually reached the door.

But she’d only taken two steps in the direction of the workbench when the cat let out an angry meow, and Willy wailed, “Ouch!”

Then Willy scrambled out from under the workbench and charged passed her, crying loudly, “Unca Ace! Unca Ace!”

Terrified of what might be wrong, Clair ran after him, arriving at Jace’s side just as he scooped Willy into his arms.

“What’d you do, Willy?” he asked patiently, scanning a scratch on the boy’s hand.

“I talked back of cat, cat talked back of me,” Willy lamented.

“Mmm-hmm,” Jace said as if he understood exactly what the little boy had said. “You were pulling Tom’s tail again, weren’t you? And he hissed at you, you told him to be quiet, and went right on pulling it until he scratched you. Right?”

“Yep,” Willy said pitifully.

“You can’t be mean to Tom. What did I tell you about that?”

“He’s mean on me.”

“He’s only mean to you when you’re mean to him first. You can’t pull his tail.”

“I wanna.”

“Well, you can’t. And if you do it again, I won’t let you go in and see him anymore.”

Out jutted Willy’s bottom lip and down went his brows into a dark frown. But then he said, “I wanna hep you,” in a conciliatory whine.

“You can help me as soon as we wash out that scratch.”

And with that they took a quick, first-aid break in the mudroom.

Clair only watched from the sidelines because every time she got too near Willy insisted she, “Dit away!” as if she’d been the cause of his misery.

Then, once Jace was certain Willy was well taken care of, they all went back outside.

Jace had unloaded the new rails from the truck bed and stacked them on the ground behind it. He pointed at them as they passed them on their way back.

“You guys can bring those over to the fence,” he suggested. “Willy can take one end and Clair can take the other.”

It was clearly a chore he’d left purposely for them, because he could have hauled the whole lot of it in one trip himself. Clair appreciated that he was encouraging the togetherness so she could interact with her nephew. But Willy wanted no part of it, and the minute Clair put a hand on one of the rails, he dropped his end, picked up another board and dragged it himself.

“He’s an independent little guy,” Jace said apologetically when, after the third try, she’d given up and left the chore to Willy, settling near where Jace worked just to watch the boy.

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Clair said. But she knew she didn’t sound convincing.

Jace used the claw end of a hammer as leverage to pull off the damaged rails he intended to replace. He had a rhythm going, and it caught Clair’s eye even as she meant to be only watching Willy.

But Jace was something to see as he braced a booted foot against the lowest rail, jammed the claw behind the board and nail and then put muscle into yanking them free.

Clair told herself not to pay attention to it. That “Unca Ace” was not why she was there. But with the March sun streaking his hair with gold and illuminating his handsome face as perfectly as a photographer’s lamp at a photo shoot, he was a hard sight to tear her gaze from.

When he’d pulled off a number of rails and Willy had all the new ones haphazardly deposited nearby, he said, “Okay, pal, if you’re careful to grab the old boards in the middle where there aren’t any nails you can take them to the trash for me. Maybe we can get Clair to stand over there and throw them in for us.” Then, under his breath, he said to Clair, “He has to have help with that.”

Willy might have needed her assistance, but that didn’t mean he was interested in socializing during the process.

Clair followed him to a large metal trash receptacle where he gave each board to her as solemnly as if it were the Olympic torch. But she got no response to anything she said to him to try to draw him out, except when she asked about the picture on the front of his T-shirt. Then he said, “I watch Dooby-Doo on TV,” and went back to ignoring her.

That was how the bulk of the day went, and by the end of it, Clair was both weary and dejected.

But she didn’t want Jace to know it, and so, as they drove back into town, she decided to do some subtle pleading of her own case.

“It doesn’t seem very practical to contend with a two-and-a-half-year-old while you work every day,” she said, slightly out of the blue and confident that Willy wouldn’t be aware of the conversation because he’d fallen instantly asleep in his car seat.

He gave her the sideways glance he’d given her on their way out to the ranch, taking his eyes off the road for only a split second and not turning his head. “Oh, I don’t know. I think we make a pretty good team.”

“You must not get as much done, though. Stopping to deal with a child every few minutes is distracting, and the time it takes away from your work adds up.”

Jace smiled mysteriously, and she had the impression that he was seeing through her again. “What are you, an efficiency expert?”

“I’m just saying that—”

“It isn’t as if I’m in an office with a quota to fill. I don’t see anything wrong with what we’re doin’. If my job for the day can’t be done with him around, one of my brothers is invariably doing something he can be there for, or my mother takes him with her to the McDermots’ place. She works around their house, and they don’t mind havin’ Willy over if need be. One of their boys is a little older than he is, and they play real well together. Some days they ask for him to come.”

Jace looked at her for a moment, somewhat pointedly, she thought. Then he said, “Seems to me this is a better way for a boy to grow up than havin’ to spend his days indoors at a day care center or a baby-sitter’s or something. He’s out in the open, learnin’ things, playin’, gettin’ his self-assurance and self-esteem built up by findin’ he can be a help and actually do some chores like he did today.”

It was hard to disagree with any of that, because she’d seen all of what he was talking about, and he was right.

But she couldn’t not argue her own side.

“There’s something to be said for day care when they begin to work on skills kids need for school. Plus they learn there are rules they have to follow and they learn how to work and play with other kids. A good day-care center can give a child a head start.”

“You think it’s better for a boy to be shut up in an institution every day rather than be out in the fresh air and sunshine with somebody who’s giving him one-on-one attention?”

“‘Shut up in an institution’?” she repeated. “You make it sound like an insane asylum. There are playgrounds and equipment—it isn’t as if kids are locked in windowless dungeons and fed gruel. They get accustomed to structure and order and schedules. They learn to compromise. They learn that there’s a time for work and a time for play, that there needs to be a balance in life. They learn discipline and order. Hygiene and—”

Jace laughed. “Are you thinkin’ Willy should be groomed for the military? Childhood as extended boot camp?”

“Of course not. It’s just that there’s something to be said for today’s day-care centers and for being free to do your own work without the hindrance of a child.”

The moment she said the word hindrance she knew she’d made a mistake, and the sobering of Jace’s expression only confirmed it.

Jace leaned forward enough to check on Willy, to make sure the little boy wasn’t hearing any of this.

Then he said, “I haven’t for a single minute thought of havin’ Willy with me as a hindrance.”

“I know. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just meant that there’s nothing wrong with a child being cared for by someone other than a parent or guardian while the parent or guardian works.”

“I enjoy havin’ Willy with me. He enjoys bein’ with me. I think we’re both lucky to have the chance to spend this time together.”

And that seemed to conclude the conversation as he pulled into his driveway.

Which was for the best as far as Clair was concerned, because she knew she’d lost more points than she’d gained all the way around today.

Jace got out of the truck and Clair followed him, stopping to wait near the hood while he went around to the passenger side to unbuckle Willy.

But as she stood there, she began to wonder where she should go from there. If she should continue to tag along into the house or if the end of the day signaled the end of her time with Willy and Jace—something she was suddenly inordinately loath to have happen.

She hated to invite herself to stay if Jace was tiring of her company, but she also didn’t want to leave and have him think she’d had her fill, either.

Luckily Jace solved her dilemma.

“Tuesday night is pizza night at our house. Want to come back in an hour or so and see what an evening in the life of Willy Miller is like now that you’ve seen what his day involves?”

A swell of gratitude rose inside Clair, and it occurred to her that she liked this man very much. There was something so strong and confident about him that he wasn’t threatened by the idea of sharing Willy—at least as things stood now. Strong and confident enough that he was trying to help her get to know her nephew, get closer to him, even if Willy wasn’t cooperating.

It was just plain nice of him. And that was a refreshing change for her.

Not to mention that it made him all the more appealing….

“I’d like that,” she said belatedly, when she realized she hadn’t responded to his invitation yet.

“Great. An hour’ll give me a chance to shower off some of today’s grime and get my dough to risin’.”

He could surprise her, too.

“Your dough? You mean you make the pizza?”

“Somebody always ‘makes’ the pizza, Clair,” he said, teasing her by explaining the obvious.

“I know someone makes the pizza. I just didn’t think, when you said it was pizza night, that you were the someone. I figured you ordered out.”

“Can’t order out pizza as good as I make.”

“And you even make the dough?”

“Mmm-hmm. The sauce, too. I cook up a batch and can it myself.”

“Amazing.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he said with a voice full of innuendo and a lascivious arch to his eyebrow that made her laugh this time.

But she didn’t doubt him. And she also realized that there was a part of her that was far too interested in learning just what all he was talented at….

“An hour then,” she repeated. “I’d like to clean up, too. Can I bring something? I could run into town for—” She was going to say she could run into town for a bottle of wine but she realized that made it sound too much like they were planning a date. So she quickly changed course. “—for something for dessert. Does Willy like ice cream?”

“Sure, but there’s some in the freezer if we get the urge. After my pizza you might not have room.”

What Clair was afraid of was just what kind of urges she might end up having. But she didn’t say that. Instead she played off the braggadocio in his last comment.

“Pretty proud of your pizza, are you?”

His supple mouth eased into a wicked grin, and only then did it occur to her that the way she’d said that had made it sound as if she was referring to something more personal than pizza. Something a whole lot more personal than pizza.

But he didn’t miss a beat before saying, “Yeah, I am,” in much the same tone.

Clair decided she’d better get away from there before either of them ventured any further into the flirting neither one should have been doing.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” she said with a hint of chastisement in her tone.

“I’ll be here.”

“See you in a little bit, Willy,” she called to her nephew, who was hunkered down in serious study of a dead spider.

Willy ignored her yet again.

“Mind your manners, little man,” Jace warned amiably enough.

“Bye-see-ya,” the boy answered without looking away from the spider.

But Clair had successfully accomplished what she’d wanted, and whatever sparks had been flying between her and Jace were defused. Or at least they were muted some.

“I guess that says it all. Bye-see-ya,” she parroted, heading off across the lawn toward Rennie Jennings’s house.

But she could feel Jace’s eyes on her as she did, and she only realized after she was doing it that she’d put the tiniest sway into her walk.

Knock it off, she ordered herself.

But even the command and the reminder that she wasn’t there to start anything up with Jace didn’t help. Her hips seemed to have a mind of their own, and they went right on swaying all the way inside.

Chapter Three

Clair climbed Jace’s porch steps exactly one hour later. As she did she silently repeated to herself, I’m here to see Willy. I’m here to see Willy. I’m here to see Willy.

Not to spend the evening with Jace.

But she could hardly believe herself, knowing Willy would never notice that she’d showered and shampooed her hair for the second time today, reapplied blush, mascara and eyeliner, and carefully chosen her best cashmere turtleneck sweater to wear over her black slacks because the color made her skin look luminous.

She was there to see Willy. There to see Willy. There to see Willy…

“The door’s open,” Jace called from inside when she rang the bell.

Clair let herself in to Jace’s second call. “We’re in the kitchen.” She followed the sound of his voice instructing Willy. “Pat it out like a mud pie the way I showed you.”

From the living room she went into the dining room, then through the swinging door and into the kitchen, which she’d barely caught a glimpse of before. The walls were painted bright blue around the natural oak cupboards and white appliances. A large round table monopolized the center of the room, surrounded by four ladder-back chairs.

Jace was standing at the table, and Willy was beside him, kneeling on the seat of one of the chairs. There was a wooden pastry board in front of them both, and while Jace pressed dough into a round pizza pan at one end, Willy attempted to do the same with a considerably smaller piece on a cookie sheet at the other end of it.

“Hi,” Jace greeted her, glancing up from what he was doing to cast her a welcoming smile that seemed to make the kitchen even brighter.

“Hi,” Clair answered. Then she added, “Hi, Willy.”

Willy, of course, barely muttered a “Hi” in return, without so much as looking at her.

“He’s learnin’ to be a pizza man,” Jace said proudly.

“Pizza man,” the little boy repeated as if it were a title he was eager to have.

Clair watched the two of them pressing floured fingers into the soft dough to spread it ever wider. Willy put too much pressure into it most of the time and jammed his fingers all the way through, leaving holes here and there.

But Jace was more adept, and she marveled at how such powerful hands could be so agile. Agile enough, she supposed, to knead a woman’s flesh much the same way, with just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of tenderness, just the right amount of firmness…

“Pull up a seat,” he said, interrupting her wandering thoughts none too soon. “We’re just about to put on all the trimmings.”

Clair straightened her posture, took a deep breath and once more reminded herself that she was only there to see Willy.