A Passionate Proposal

“Patrick’s getting the tools from the truck. I thought I might learn something in Bath 101.” He lowered the toilet lid. It wasn’t until after he sat down that he realized the room wasn’t big enough for two—three if you counted the squirt. His knees bracketed Tracy, and his mind took an X-rated detour. Unless he wanted to embarrass himself, now was not the time to fantasize about Tracy on her knees in front of him.

He blew out a slow breath and focused on her hair. She’d tortured it into that tight twist again, and it looked like only one pin held it in place. The urge to pull the pin and see the strands tumble over her shoulders nearly overwhelmed him. He twisted the towel in his hands.

He’d liked her hair long, and so did Josh. His son’s tiny fingers had played with the length of Tracy’s braid yesterday while she changed his diaper. He wouldn’t mind burying his own hands in the shiny strands to see if they were as soft as they looked.

He plucked at the collar of his knit shirt. The heat and humidity of the bathroom were getting to him. “You’re good with kids, and it’s clear you like them. Why don’t you have a houseful of your own by now?”

“I spent my childhood mothering my brothers and sisters. It’s time to put myself first. Kids aren’t a part of my plan.”

He wondered if his brothers had ever resented having to baby-sit him. Brand, Patrick and Caleb had been more like parents to him than his own father. He didn’t remember his mother. She’d left when he was two.

Josh wouldn’t remember his mother, either.

He shoved aside the sobering thought. “Do you put yourself first? From what Libby said, it sounds like you’re still combining the roles of platoon commander and Mother Teresa.”

“Libby talks too much. Grab that towel and take this wiggly fella.” She lifted Josh out of the water and turned.

The wet fabric of Tracy’s shirt clung to the lacy bra and the peachy skin underneath, distracting him from the chore she’d assigned him. His abdomen tightened. He sucked a deep breath to clear his head. Tracy’s sweet scent mingled with the baby bath soap to short-circuit a few of his brain cells.

“Cort?” She sounded breathless.

He snatched up the towel and snapped it open. Tracy pushed Josh into his arms, and her fingertips grazed his chest. He flinched. The woman packed the electric charge of a defibrillator, and every time she touched him his heart took a jolt. He bundled Josh in the towel, terrified he’d drop him.

“Cort, relax. Your tension transfers to him.” She kneaded his tense biceps, and other parts of his body tensed.

Sure enough, Josh’s smile vanished and his lip quivered. Cort couldn’t have been happier to hear Patrick’s boots on the outside stairs. He passed Josh back to Tracy, and his knuckles inadvertently brushed her breast.

She gasped, and their gazes locked.

He hated the wariness in her caramel-colored eyes. He swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Excuse me.”

Seducing Tracy was not part of his plan. He’d be in Texas less than three months, and Tracy deserved more than a quick roll in the hay. That was all he had to give. Even if he were staying longer, he wasn’t fool enough to offer another woman the opportunity to wipe her feet on his heart. “I’ll call when his crib’s ready.”

He hustled out of the tiny bathroom. What was the matter with him? It had to be the sheer terror over being responsible for Josh, causing the tension in his gut and making his brow sweat.

He feared he would bungle being a single father as badly as his dad had—only Josh didn’t have older brothers to pick up the slack.

Josh’s crying woke Tracy at two in the morning.

She lay in the darkness waiting for the baby to settle, but he seemed to grow more agitated as time passed. Before going to bed tonight she and Cort had agreed on a tentative schedule. This was Cort’s shift, but Josh had been crying for almost thirty minutes.

Throwing back the covers, she shrugged on her robe, climbed the inside stairs and knocked on the door. Cort didn’t answer. He couldn’t possibly sleep through the baby’s crying, could he? She turned the knob and, finding the door unlocked, stepped into the apartment.

Cort, wearing nothing but scrub pants riding low on his narrow hips, paced the den with Josh crying on his shoulder. Muscles rippled in Cort’s shoulders as he awkwardly patted and rubbed the baby’s stiff back.

She could have lived without the knowledge that he had dimples flanking the base of his spine. Adrenaline coursed through her blood, erasing the remnants of sleep from her brain and turning her insides to mush.

“It’s all right, kid. We’ll get the hang of this soon. Everybody says so. Just put up with me until then, okay?”

Josh’s piercing wail jerked her out of her hormonal stupor. No wonder Cort hadn’t heard her knocking. Before she could speak he reached the end of the room, turned and stopped in his tracks when he spotted her across his living room. “Damn. I’m sorry we woke you.”

“You shouldn’t swear in front of the baby,” she corrected automatically.

Even in the dimly lit room she couldn’t miss the well-defined muscles of his broad chest and shoulders. A small gold medallion glinted in the dark hair dusting his chest. Finer hair marked a path between his washboard abdominal muscles. She didn’t want to consider what he was—or wasn’t—wearing beneath the thin fabric of his scrubs. Cort had always been athletic, but ten years ago he’d been an eighteen-year-old boy. As a twenty-eight-year-old man, he’d matured beyond expectations.

Strange feelings stirred in her belly. She dampened her dry lips. “Did you change him and give him a bottle?”

“Yes to the diaper. No to the formula. The baby book says not to feed a nine-month-old more often than every six hours.” He grimaced. “It also says to let him cry himself back to sleep, but I tried that, and I can’t handle it.”

His dark curls went every which way, reminding her that he’d also been in bed. She looked through the open door beyond his shoulder to the rumpled sheets on his bed, and her stomach clenched. “Sometimes it’s best to ignore the books and go with your instincts. Would you like for me to fix his bottle?”

He shook his head. “Thanks, Trace, but if you think that’s what he needs I’ll take care of it. Leanna warned me to keep bottles already made in the fridge. You go back to bed.”

If she had half a functioning brain she’d do as he suggested, but Cort and Josh obviously needed her. “Let me help.”

She walked into the tiny kitchenette, opened the refrigerator and extracted a bottle. The cool air washed her hot cheeks. Lordy, the man exceeded every secret fantasy she’d ever dreamed up. Suddenly hot, she plucked at her robe.

While the formula heated in the bottle warmer she stepped closer to Cort and Josh and stroked a finger along the baby’s damp cheek. “Hi, fella.”

Josh whimpered and reached for her. After a second’s hesitation, Cort passed him to her. Her forearm brushed his bare chest as she took the baby, and the skin on her arm burned as if she’d pressed it against the radiator in her classroom. The fine hairs on her body stood on end, and her toes curled in her slippers.

Josh immediately buried his face in her neck and clutched handfuls of her hair.

Cort gently extricated the tiny fingers and as he did so, his fingertips brushed the skin of her shoulders and neck. She hoped he didn’t notice her goose bumps or the shiver she couldn’t suppress. “He likes you better. Can’t say I blame him.”

Her heart clenched at the pain lacing his voice, and her pulse raced at his half-naked proximity. “He’s probably accustomed to women taking care of him.”

He parked his hands on his hips, and his muscles flexed in a most distracting way. The urge to smooth his rumpled hair, to test the suppleness of his skin or to trace the line of dark curls bisecting his navel was difficult to ignore. But ignore it she would.

When Cort turned away to get the bottle, she laid a hand over her misbehaving heart and took a moment to gather herself and her wayward thoughts. Calm. In control. Professional. You are his nanny now. Act like one.

A fragment of common sense asserted itself. “Shake the bottle well to avoid hot spots and test it on the inside of your wrist to make sure it won’t burn his mouth.”

He did and then offered her the bottle, but she shook her head. He had to learn. “Sit down. You give it to him.”

Cort sat in the overstuffed chair, and Tracy placed Josh in his arms, being extra careful not to touch Cort’s bare skin during the transfer. Cort nudged the nipple against Josh’s lips, but the baby refused. “Come on, buddy. Fill your tank.”

Josh wailed. Both males were as tense as a newly strung clothesline. She touched a hand to her temples and looked skyward. Why me? Is this some kind of test? She blew out a long, slow breath.

“Relax, Cort, or he won’t either.” Knowing she’d probably regret it, she stepped behind the chair and kneaded Cort’s knotted shoulder muscles. The heat from his supple skin traveled from her fingertips to her breasts and thighs. Cort’s tension ebbed from him to her, swirling in the pit of her stomach and coiling around her chest. She almost groaned aloud when she identified the cause. Desire.

Obviously, she’d never gotten over her crush on Cort Lander, except now she had the adult, X-rated version dancing through her mind and shortening her breath.

As Cort’s muscles unwound, so did Josh’s. After one last whimper, the baby hungrily latched on to the bottle.

Cort exhaled. “Can’t say I blame you, kid. After the last hour I could use a drink myself.”

Tracy dropped her hands to her sides, wiping them on her gown as if she could erase the feel of him from her memory. She had no need for inhibition-relaxing alcohol. Her senses were already spinning out of control.

She wanted the impossible. She wanted Cort Lander. “Don’t forget to burp him.”

She let herself out of the apartment before she did something foolish.

Who’d have expected practical, down-to-earth Tracy to have magical fingers or hair as soft as satin sheets?

Cort smothered a yawn and blinked his tired, gritty eyes. He’d kept an erection for hours after she’d left last night, and consequently, he’d hit the snooze button on his alarm clock one time too many this morning.

“Okay, kid, let’s try this again.” He tucked a spoonful of baby mush between Josh’s lips. Josh promptly sprayed it all over him. Aw, hell. He’d have to change shirts, which meant he’d probably be late for his first day on the job.

“Can’t say I blame you. This stuff looks and smells like casting plaster.”

A tap on the inside door meant the cavalry had arrived. Remnants of last night’s dreams jolted his libido and heart into overdrive. “Come in.”

Tracy stepped over the threshold looking good enough to eat in jeans that hugged her hips and a peachy-colored top that reflected the blush on her freshly scrubbed cheeks. The thick braid of her cinnamon hair fell over her shoulder to loop around the tip of her breast like a lover’s tongue. Oh, man. He clenched his teeth on a groan.

Tracy took one look at the situation and shook her head. “I have Cheerios downstairs.”

Before he could say another word she vanished and his heart sank, but she reappeared seconds later and deposited an armload of stuff on the table. He could have kissed her for coming back. He was definitely out of his element here, but he wasn’t sure about the yellow box of cereal and the banana. “The book didn’t say anything about regular food.”

“Would you trust me on this one?” Her white teeth dug into her lush bottom lip, and he figured he’d probably agree to just about anything if she kept that up. Scraping a hand across his chin, he nodded. She had to know more about babies than he did, and he’d always been able to count on Tracy steering him in the right direction.

She set a bottle of stain remover on his side of the table and then scattered a few cereal rings on the high chair tray. Josh snatched them up, shoving them into his mouth as fast as a linebacker at a buffet. He greeted the banana with the same enthusiasm.

Tracy’s gaze traveled over him. “You’d better change and get out of here.”

“You’re right. Thanks for helping.” He stood and peeled off his shirt. Tracy inhaled swiftly. He hesitated. Did she feel the same fierce attraction that twisted his hormones into a pretzel? Or had he offended her? He started to shrug the shirt back on.

Her eyes were big and round and her cheeks bore a fresh wash of color. “It’s okay. I’ve seen a man without his shirt before. I’ve seen you without your shirt before.”

She’d seen him without more than his shirt that time she’d surprised him at the river. Did she remember? “So you have.”

Her gaze drizzled over him like melting caramel. Did she have any idea what a look like that did to a man? If he stood here long enough there’d be no doubt. He moved away from the table.

“Wait.” Tracy moved forward and reached for him. Every muscle in his body locked. She picked bits of cereal from his hair, his ear, his eyebrow, and her featherlight touches nearly drove him out of his mind.

He clamped his lips closed and tried to breathe normally. Her scent filled his senses. She stood so close that all he had to do was lift his hands a few inches to span her waist. But he wouldn’t. Casual friend-to-friend kisses and touches were one thing, but that wasn’t what he wanted right now. Need charged through his body like a pack of hungry dogs. Need that would go unfulfilled. He clenched his fists.

Her gaze met his and her smile slowly faded. She lowered her hands, wet her lips and glanced back toward Josh. Her throat worked as she swallowed once, twice, and a dark flush swept her cheekbones. There was no mistaking the sexual tension clogging the air.

She cleared her throat and busied herself with cleaning up his breakfast dishes. “Tomorrow, I’ll handle breakfast.”

The last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship.

“Thanks.” His voice sounded as though he’d swallowed a handful of gravel. He beat a hasty retreat, eager, he was ashamed to admit, to get out of the house before he did something stupid like kiss her until they ended up naked and horizontal.

What he needed was a good dose of something that didn’t make him feel like a failure. Work. He had an exemplary bedside manner, and his diagnostic skills were superb, or so his instructors back at Duke had told him.

Obviously, Josh didn’t see the same qualities.

Cort shrugged on a clean shirt and tie. He’d never shirked hard work, but usually his diligence produced visible results. No such luck with Josh. The harder he tried, the worse the situation seemed to get with his son. The baby books were a prime example. He’d practically memorized the parenting books he’d found on Kate’s shelves only to have Tracy tell him to ignore them and follow his gut instinct.

Not a chance. He trusted his gut when it came to patients, but not with his personal life, because with Josh and Tracy his gut was one big knot of apprehension.

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