Dr. Daddy

Three

Zoey stared at him in disbelief, her voice failing her completely. Help him? she thought incredulously. Help him? Help Jonas Tate? With a baby? What was he, nuts?

She continued to gaze at him in silence, and the coffee she had sipped as he’d uttered his request—his plea—sat in her mouth until it tasted like mud. Finally, she remembered to swallow, but when she did, she gagged and began to choke. The hacking that ensued brought Jonas around the table to pat her soundly on the back, an action that just made her cough harder because it was such an unexpectedly inflammatory gesture. Inflammatory because the feel of his palm pressing into her well-covered flesh, in a manner that was in no way seductive, somehow felt just that—seductive.

Alarmed, Zoey jerked away from him and leapt out of her chair, moving blindly toward the sink in an effort to escape. But Jonas followed her, seeming to pen her in where the countertops came together at a ninety-degree angle. Honestly, all he was doing was making sure she was okay, she told herself. But for some reason, he seemed to be much closer than he really needed to be, seemed to be intent on doing much more than helping to alleviate her cough.

Zoey had never liked it when people got too close—emotionally or physically—without her permission. There was a reason for that, she recalled all too readily, and without thinking further, she flattened her palms against his chest and pushed him away. Hard.

Jonas stumbled backward, his eyes reflecting his surprise at her gesture. But apparently undaunted, he approached her again and lifted his own hand slowly toward her. “Are you all right?” he asked as he cupped his palm cautiously over her shoulder.

Zoey flinched a little, but made no move this time to restrict him. Evidently encouraged by the less violent reaction, he dipped his hand lower to rub her back again. She told herself to stay calm and not overreact, forced herself to stand still and let him touch her. Unfortunately, that plan of action didn’t work, either. Because his simple caress still felt like the most inviting of gestures and, instinctively, she wanted to pull away before things got out of hand.

“I’m fine,” she lied, taking a few deep breaths to steady her heart rate and get her lungs moving normally again. For some reason, though, when she inhaled the musky aroma of him, her heart rate became anything but steady, and her lungs wanted to gulp in the air at a staggering speed. “I’m fine,” she repeated, though whether she was trying to convince Jonas or herself of that, she wasn’t entirely sure.

His hand continued to make lazy circles on her back, and she found herself standing there, immobile, gazing into pale brown eyes that were fixed on her face. For long moments, the two of them only stared at each other in silence, until Zoey made a halfhearted move to pull away.

But instead of removing his hand from her back to allow her passage—because, clearly, she was okay now, Zoey thought, and there was no need for him to remain so close—Jonas settled his free hand on the counter to prevent her from going anywhere. He cupped the fingers of his other hand lightly over her nape and, exerting just the slightest pressure on her neck, he started to bring her head toward his.

“Don’t,” she said softly, trying to pull back.

But Jonas seemed not to hear her and continued the gentle coercion of her head toward his. For one wild moment, Zoey forgot about the animosity she felt for him, forgot the reason she was normally so cautious around men. For one wild moment, she allowed herself to be drawn forward. His eyes were so compelling, the shape of his mouth so intriguing. He smelled so good and his touch was...oh...so gentle. No man had ever touched her in quite that way before. But when she realized what he was trying to do, understood that he had every intention of kissing her, she panicked, bolting from his arms to race to the other side of the room.

She purposely positioned herself so that the kitchen table was between them, knowing the gesture was silly even as she completed it. As if that meager barrier might actually keep him away from her if he wanted to try to again kiss her again, she thought. As if such a move would prevent her from reaching out to him.

“I’m fine,” she insisted for a third time, clutching the back of a chair when she realized how badly she did, indeed, want to reach for him again. Good heavens, what was happening to her?

“You certainly are,” Jonas agreed in a quiet, ragged tone of voice unlike any she’d ever heard from him.

He cleared his throat abruptly and returned to his seat at the table, then proceeded to sip his coffee casually, as if the past few moments had never occurred. Zoey eyed him curiously, wondering if maybe she had completely misinterpreted what had just happened between them.

Of course she had, she told herself with a silent sigh of relief, lifting a shaky hand to her forehead. She must have. He’d only been trying to stop her coughing. There was no way he had intended to kiss her. She simply must have misread the signs. She’d just pulled a double duty at the hospital, she reminded herself, and had just come off the graveyard shift. She was tired and, as usual, Jonas Tate’s presence was making her edgy. Considering their history and the quickness with which the two of them generally went for each other’s throats, the last thing the man would want to do was kiss her.

The realization brought with it an odd mixture of reassurance and regret, but she ignored the feeling as she returned to her own seat at the table and pulled the chair away. Before she could sit down, however, Jonas stood, moving quickly toward the other side of the room to stand in precisely the same spot Zoey had just vacated.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he stared at the ceiling as he asked, “Would you? Help me out, I mean. With...with the baby. With Juliana.”

When she said nothing in reply, he dipped his gaze to the floor and rushed on, “You’re obviously good with her. She took right to you, the moment you held her in your arms. She likes you, Zoey. That’s a hell of a lot more than I can say she feels about me. I don’t know what to do. I’ve had her for more than two months now, and I...” He lifted his head to meet her gaze levelly as he concluded, “I just...I don’t know what to do.”

It was costing him plenty to ask for her assistance, she realized. Clearly, he was at his wit’s end if he was coming to her for help. The two of them were mortal enemies, completely at odds over just about everything. He didn’t like her, and she didn’t like him. But he was desperate for help. So desperate, he’d even ask her to come to his aid. It was a strange feeling to have Jonas Tate dependent on her.

Zoey knew what it was like to have a newborn suddenly placed in one’s care—the shock and panic, the lack of sleep and abundance of exhaustion, the feelings of helplessness and fear that accompanied a baby’s arrival. And that was with people who’d had nine months to prepare for the event. Jonas had become a father virtually without warning and was obviously still unequipped for the responsibilities that had been heaped upon him. He did, indeed, need help. And she was perfectly capable of helping him.

If she wanted to.

“Why do you need my help?” she asked him. “Don’t you have someone looking after her during the day while you’re at work?”

“Not anymore. No one has seemed appropriate. I don’t know if you realize it, but there’s a real child-care crisis going on in this country.”

She twisted her lips into a wry grin. “So I’ve heard. There’s also a very good day-care center at the hospital for employees. Olivia McGuane keeps her son, Simon, there during the day while she’s at work. So do most of the other nurses who have kids. I’m sure Juliana would thrive and be perfectly happy there.”

Jonas shook his head. “Juliana hasn’t thrived or been happy since she arrived. I’d worry about her constantly if I didn’t think she was getting continuous, one-on-one supervision at this point. At least until she gets over this...this anguish...this despondency she seems incapable of ridding herself of.”

Zoey shook her head in disapproval. “She’s only a baby, Dr. Tate. She’s not in charge of her happiness and contentment—you are. You can’t expect her to behave and react like an adult.”

“I don’t, I—” He ran a big hand helplessly through his hair. “Look, Zoey, I know we’ve had our differences in the past,” he continued, moving slowly back toward the table. “And I know we haven’t always gotten along very well.”

“Very well?” she repeated with a unfelt chuckle. “We haven’t gotten along at all.”

“I know,” he told her as he sat down. “And I apologize for that. I haven’t been the easiest person to deal with since Juliana’s arrival, and I’ve been rough on everyone at the hospital.”

“Maybe so,” she agreed. “But you seem to go out of your way to come after me in particular. Most of the people at Seton like you in spite of your behavior.”

Jonas noted well the unspoken statement that Zoey was one of the people who didn’t. He wished he could deny her assertion, wished he could laugh off the pronouncement as simple paranoia on her part. Unfortunately, he knew what she said was true. There were times when he did seem to single her out for some reason. And if he were in a crowded room, a room full of people who’d ticked him off for one reason or another, he knew it would always be Zoey he wanted to come down on first.

Nevertheless, he said, “Now you know that’s not true. There are plenty of people at Seton who would tell you that they’re the ones I go after most often. That’s how many enemies I’ve made since I came to work here.”

He paused briefly before continuing, “I can’t manage Juliana on my own. Not yet. I need help. And you’re as likely a candidate as any. You know about babies—you’re surrounded by them every day. It’s your job to care for them. I realize there’s absolutely no reason why you would want to help me, but I’m asking you, anyway. I’d appreciate it, Zoey. It would mean a lot to me. And I’ll return the favor somehow, someday. So what do you say?”

She studied him thoughtfully for a moment and opened her mouth to speak, but Juliana’s cry rang out from the monitor on the counter. Quickly, she jumped up and headed for the stairs with Jonas right on her heels. She pushed open the nursery door and immediately reached for the crying infant, and he watched with much interest as she cradled the baby’s head in one hand and settled Juliana easily against her shoulder.

“Shh,” she murmured to the baby, moving her own body back and forth to rock the child. “Shh. You’re all right now. Zoey’s here. I won’t let anything happen to you, sweetie. You’re all right.”

Immediately, Juliana stopped crying and nuzzled closer to Zoey’s neck. Zoey smiled and kissed the baby’s temple, then turned to look at Jonas. For one brief moment, he experienced the oddest sensation that the three of them were perfectly situated there in the baby’s room. That he and Zoey and Juliana belonged together in a way that was solely restricted to other people—to people who comprised families.

Then he shook the feeling off and tried to put it out of his head, in much the same way he tried to forget how badly he’d wanted to kiss her in his kitchen only moments ago. He must be exhausted, he thought now, if he’d actually had the urge to take Zoey Holland into his arms.

“I can give you two weeks,” she said suddenly, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that the offer was drawn from her reluctantly. “Jeannette’s sister is in town and she wanted me to trade shifts with her for two weeks. Originally, I was only going to switch with her on a few nights because I didn’t want to give up that much of my time.”

“But now you will?” Jonas asked.

She shrugged negligently. “Now I will. I’ll stay with Juliana during the day while you’re at work and then spend part of the evening helping the two of you get comfortable together. I’m not sure when I’ll find the time to sleep,” she added after she placed another soft kiss on the infant’s head, “but it’s only for a couple of weeks.”

“You’re willing to surrender that much of your life for me?” Jonas asked quietly.

“No, not for you,” she told him with an adamant shake of her head. “For Juliana.”

He nodded his understanding but said nothing.

Zoey turned to look at the baby again. “I know what it’s like to be a burden,” she said so softly that Jonas had to strain to hear her. Bending her forehead to Juliana’s, she whispered further, “I know what it’s like to be thrust on to someone who doesn’t want you. Who has no idea about your needs and desires. I know what it’s like to be resented.”

Jonas wasn’t sure what to say, so he remained silent. But as he continued to look at Zoey and the baby, he felt a strange heat wander through his body and settle around his heart. Relief, he told himself. That’s all he was feeling. Relief that there would be someone to help him get through this ordeal. Oddly enough, however, that relief was accompanied by an inexplicable satisfaction that the someone in question would be none other than the infuriating Nurse Zoey.

* * *

When Jonas pulled into his driveway late that afternoon, he was beat. He was also frankly amazed that he hadn’t killed himself or someone else driving home from Bethesda, so exhausted had he been by the end of the trip. Only God and drive-through coffee had prevented such a catastrophe. Now, in addition to being exhausted, he also had way too much caffeine zinging through his system, a combination that resulted in a very strange view of the world.

That could be the only explanation for why, when he stumbled up the stairs and into Juliana’s nursery to find Zoey sitting in the rocking chair singing to the baby she cradled in her arms, he wanted to walk across the room and plant a very thorough kiss on the woman’s lips.

She had changed her clothes at some point during the day and no longer wore the blue hospital scrubs in which he normally saw her—the scrubs that had only hinted at the lush curves he knew must lurk beneath. Now Zoey was dressed in faded blue jeans and an oversize pink sweater that begged him to reach out and feel how soft it was, when what he really wanted to explore was the softness of the woman beneath it.

And her hair... Jonas curled his hands into fists lest he do something really stupid. Because Zoey had let her hair down. It hung loose and cascaded over one shoulder in a shimmer of copper that seemed to catch fire as it reflected the rays of the setting sun streaming in through the window behind her. Never before had he realized just how long and straight, how silky and rich, her hair was.

And in that moment, Jonas knew he was in serious trouble. Because instead of stirring up the anger and resentment he normally felt when he encountered her, Zoey was stirring up something else entirely. Something he hadn’t experienced for a long, long time. Something that felt dangerously like desire. Hot, heavy, urgent desire.

“Hi,” she said with a smile when she looked up at him.

Jonas wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think Zoey had ever smiled at him before. And the knowledge that she was doing so now, that the inviting, welcome-home expression on her face was meant for him and him alone, was staggering to say the least. As if to illustrate, he took a step backward, nearly reeling. Then she looked back down at the baby and, with the distraction of her beauty gone, he was finally able to catch his breath.

“How...how did it go with Juliana today?” he asked, hoping his voice revealed none of the troubling thoughts parading through his brain.

“Great,” Zoey told him.

He eyed her suspiciously. “Really?”

She nodded. “Really.”

“No fitfulness?”

“No, nothing unusual for a baby this age.”

“No crying jags?”

“Only when she was hungry.”

“No screaming fits?”

“Not a one.”

She continued to look at Juliana, and her next words were expressed in the high-pitched, breathy voice people normally adopted when addressing an infant. “We did very well today, didn’t we, sweetie? We ate well, and we played on our quilt, and we watched some birds at the feeder outside, and we read Curious George, and we listened to some reggae music, and—”

“Reggae music?” Jonas repeated. “Where did you find reggae music? I don’t have any reggae music.”

Zoey looked up at him and smiled that mind-numbing smile again. “I brought some tapes in from my car. It’s been my experience that babies love reggae music.”

“They do?”

She nodded. “Evidently. At least, the limited study group I’ve used for experimentation has.”

“How limited?”

“Three. Well, four now, if you include Jules.”

“Jules?”

She nodded again. “I think it fits her much better than ‘Juliana’. Don’t you think she’s more of a Jules?”

Jonas shook his head, feeling more and more bizarre with every passing moment. Zoey Holland was in his home, speaking to him quite civilly, rocking a child in her arms upon whom she had bestowed an affectionate nickname and behaving as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

“I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “I never really thought about it.”

Zoey dipped her head toward the baby, who stared back at her with frank adoration. “Well, I think she’s definitely more of a Jules.”

As if voicing her agreement, Juliana smiled and cooed with much contentment. Zoey laughed and rose from the chair, lifting the baby to her shoulder.

“I wasn’t sure what you planned to do for dinner,” she said, “so I took the liberty of fixing some seafood stew and a tossed salad.”

Dinner, too? Jonas marveled. On top of everything else, Zoey was actually cooking for him? “Where did you find the ingredients?” he asked. “I always order something in or eat out on my way home. There’s never any food in this house.”

“Well, there is now. Jules and I went to the grocery store and stocked up for you. You can pay me back before I leave tonight.”

“You took Juliana to the grocery store?” he asked incredulously.

“Didn’t I just say that I did?”

“You took her out? In this weather? To a public place?”

Zoey laughed as she approached him. “It was a beautiful day today, and—”

“It was thirty degrees!”

“—and Jules had a great time. She’s three months old, Dr. Tate. She’s in excellent health, and she was dressed in perfectly warm clothing. You don’t have to keep her hidden away. On the contrary, you should expose her to as many environments as possible. Stimulate her senses a little. She’s going to get bored if you keep her at home all the time. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why she cries so much.”

Zoey had paused scant inches away from him, close enough for him to reach out and touch the errant strand of hair that fell over her forehead, if that was what he wanted to do. And strangely enough, it was. But before he could lift a hand to do so, she extended the baby toward him.

“Now kiss her hello and take her in your arms,” she instructed.

The panic that always seized him whenever he had to come into close contact with Juliana gripped him fiercely, and he took another step backward. “I can’t,” he said.

Zoey took a meaningful step forward. “Of course you can.”

He shook his head. “You hold her for a while longer.”

“No, you hold her.”

With much reluctance, Jonas turned his hands palm up and slowly, ever so slowly, extended them forward. Zoey stared at him for a long moment before turning her mouth down in disapproval.