Had she called him Cam? "I can't believe you're here already," she admitted, a sigh of defeat coloring her tone. "I haven't even told Child Services about you. I haven't even put together my battle plan."
He laughed a little, releasing his finger, but remaining at Callie's level. " Battle plan?"
'This is war. You are going to try and take my baby and I'm going to fight you."
For a long moment, he just stared up at her, then he stood to his full height, surprising her with how tall and substantial a man he was. How could she have forgotten? He'd been on top of herin bed.
"What makes you think that's why I'm here?"
Her body clutched in expectation as he came around the playpen, toward her. Expectation ? Did she think he'd come for any reason other than to mess up her life? "Call it a wild guess."
"Well, you're wrong."
The first glimmer of hope since she'd left his apartment started to burn in her heart. "I am? You're not here to try and take her?"
"I had a couple of long talks with Quinn and Colin."
"And?" she asked, forcing herself to breathe.
"And we decided that I should make a trip out here to meet Callie, and see your home and business, to know how"
"So this is a test? An interview?" She didn't know whether to be insulted or hopeful.
"Just think of it as avisit. Okay?"
She considered that for a minute, her gaze darting be-hind him to where Callie had positioned herself in the corner of the playpen. Already the child was mesmerized, her soulful eyes following his every move.
"Are your brothers coming out for a visit , as well?" she finally asked.
"Nope. We drew straws." He winked at her. "I won."
A trackload of responses clashed in her headand heartas she tried to figure out how to handle this new development. "You know," she told him, "part of me wants to point you to the door and tell you what you can do with your visit."
"And the other part?"
She nodded slowly and levered herself off the desk, taking a step closer to him. "That part says I should welcome this opportunity to show you what a stable and loving home I'm giving Callie."
His gaze dropped over her face, settling on her mouth for a quick second, then back to her eyes. "Who wins? The intelligent, rational, mature Jo or the stubborn, cautious, protective Jo?"
She fought a smile. He was so smart. "They can both be pretty persuasive."
A half smile teased his own lips, and then he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, his gentle grip forcing her to look up into his face. "So can I. You know I have to do this, and the intelligent, rational, mature Jo accepts that. Right?"
She nodded, and he inched her just close enough to send that thrill of expectation back through her. Speaking of purely pathetic.
Then he dropped a brotherly kiss on the top of her head. "Good girl. I like that part of you."
But what about that other part of her? The achy, craving, lusty Jo who wanted to throw her head back and offer her mouth for a kiss that was anything but brotherly.
Well, she'd just have to hammer out that part.
"Let's take a hike."
"A hike?" Did she just tell him to take a hike? Cam sat on the cold cement floor of a body shop and watched Jo sand the last edges of the dent with the finesse of a sculptor crafting a masterpiece.
A sexy sculptor. In a damn-near see-through cotton top that was cut off just an inch or two above a slender waist, and work pants that fit so low on her hips that when she leaned under the truck his throat just went dry at what might be exposed. But all he saw was a glimpse of something dark red at the top of her buttocks and hip. Something small. And permanent.
A tattoo.
His whole lower half got heavy at the possibilities.
"Yeah, a hike." She threw him a get-with-the-pro-gram look from behind her goggles. "We're in the mountains. That's what we do here on Sunday afternoons. We hike. Or raft the rapids." He could tell she was grinning behind the surgical mask she wore. "Would you rather tackle the Whitewater? Or are you too jetlagged from your trip?"
He heard the implied challenge. She might as well have added "city boy."
"Whatever you like. I'm all yours for a week."
"A week?" She clunked the sander into a tool box and pulled off a latex glove. "What the heck am I going to do with you for a week?"
His gaze tripped down toward her hips. You could show me that tattoo . "I won't get in your way."
She ran one long, slender finger over the metal, which showed absolutely no evidence of the wreck it had been. He couldn't believe what she'd done to that dent in forty-five minutes. "You're already in my way." The mask muffled her comment, but not her trademark candor.
To her credit, she seemed to accept his arrival with more ease than he'd expected. Her initial tension subsided after a few minutes and the baby distracted them from any in-depth discussion. Callie had fussed enough to earn a bottle, which Jo administered like a pro.
When Callie had fallen asleep in the playpen, Jo had eased the bottle out of the baby's grip, cleaned it efficiently in the small sink in her office and covered her charge in a pink blanket. Then she'd pointed toward the shop, issuing a silent invitation for him to join her. He'd been sitting on the floor watching her work ever since. Far enough away to avoid sand spray, but close enough to see details.
Like the edge of that tattoo. And the gentle jiggle of her breasts every time she swiped that sander back and forth.
She hoisted herself to a stand, brushed her pants and then scooped up the handle of her tool case. "All right. That's done." Turning toward the glass-enclosed office, she peered at the baby. "She won't sleep much longer."
He rose and took the tool case from her. "Where do you keep this?"
Surprise brightened her eyes.
"Are these tools too precious for me to touch?" he asked.
"No. I'm just not used to having any help."
"I don't mean to insult your masculinity, sweetheart. I just want to get to that hike as soon as possible."
With a laugh that told him she didn't believe a word he said, she pointed toward the opposite side of the shop. "Over there. I'll go see if she's waking up."
As he followed her instructions, he studied the shop. For a garage, it was remarkably clean, and bright with natural sunlight. There was a freshness about itodd, considering what kind of place it wasbut the work bays and tool racks all had a woman's touch to them. Not that they were pink. Just polished. Neat. Inviting, even.
Like the owner.
"You looking for code violations, counselor?"
She surprised him, having come up behind him soundlessly in her rubber-soled work boots.
"Just admiring your shop," he assured her. "It's nice. It'sfeminine somehow."
Her laugh was sudden and disbelieving. "You want feminine? You should see Fluff."
Fluff? Oh, Katie's shop next door. "Maybe later," he replied. "Is Callie awake yet?"
"Any second. She's making moaning sounds. The books say I should wake her and get her on the schedule I want, but that just seems so cruel."
"You don't strike me as someone who worries what the books say."
That earned him a satisfied grin. "I don't normally. But there are so many experts on child rearing, and I want to be certain I'm doing everything right."
"I'm sure you are," he said, following her across the garage toward the office.
"Oh, there she is."
He paused and listened. "I don't hear anything."
Then he heard a faint noise that sounded like someone twisting a balloon a hundred yards away. Was that a baby ? Jo's pace picked up as she headed toward the office. When she opened the door, the squeak became a full-force wail.
Through the glass, he could see her swoop into the baby cage and lift the tiny body. He couldn't hear Jo's words or sounds, but he imagined her crooning as she patted and cradled the squirming baby, punctuating her comments with kisses on Callie's head.
Whatever books she'd been reading couldn't teach her as much as nature had already given her. She was clearly born to be a mother.
He used to think some women just didn't know how to mother, and that's why his own abandoned the task. But now he knew he was wrong about thatwrong about his mother.
And yet here he was, twenty-six years after she bailed on her husband and sons, considering the possibility of stepping into this makeshift family and breaking it up. Just so he could heal the age-old hurt?
It didn't feel right to him. But he'd made a deal with his brothers that he would at least observe the situation and make the right decision for the child. Quirm was oddly certain that would mean bringing the baby back east to be raised by them. He and Nicole were discussing that very option this week.
And, as Cam had expected, Colin had preferred to handle their father. With his office still in Pittsburgh, Colin was closest to the older man and had kept a close eye on Mm. Colin had been the one to inform them that Dad had been so reclusive the past few years that he bordered on becoming a hermit.
Was that a result of decades-old guilt?
Cameron wanted to verify his mother's side of the story and trusted Colin to break the news to their dad and get his side of the story.
Jo interrupted his thoughts by waving him into the office, the baby apparently over her tears.
"Hey, kid," he said to the damp-eyed child when he entered, loving the little zing that went through him when her face lit up. She looked so much like Colin and Quinn at that age that he almost laughed out loud. "Do you hike, too?"
"She's a pro," Jo assured him with a glance down at his Docksiders. "It's her uncle that I'm worried about."
"I have better shoes in my rental car," he offered. "Unless you want to lend me a pair from your collection of men's boots."
She wriggled her nose and leaned into Callie's ear. "Bad uncle," she whispered.
But Callie reached her chubby little hand toward him and grabbed his nose. The sensation was almost as appealing as the chime of Jo's laughter, and the echo of her open reference to him as Callie's uncle.
"Come on," Jo said, gently tugging the baby's grip from his nose. With her free hand, she scooped up a giant bag decorated with orange bears, and indicated the door with a tilt of her head. "We'll go home first to pack a lunch. And she needs a snack."
Cam had planned to stay at one of the many bed and breakfasts he'd seen in the quaint tourist town. "I have to check in. Which one of those gingerbread places on Carvel Street do you recommend?"
"None, unless you're ready to part with way too much money. You can stay with me."
A sharp stab of temptation seized him. "With you? Are you sure?"
Her look told him she caught the implication but refused to acknowledge it. "How else are you going to see what kind of stable home environment Callie enjoys? You'll need to give a complete report to those nosy brothers of yours."
So she did understand exactly why he had come. But didn't she realize how combustible their chemistry was? Or was he the only one haunted by the memory of how her body felt underneath him?
"I appreciate the offer" He hesitated a moment, considering how to phrase his concerns.
"I can handle it," she said, shutting down any arguments with a no-nonsense tone. "I believe you said I can handle anything."
With a long, lazy look, he took in the baby in her arms, the bag on her shoulders, the beautifully feminine hands that operated a sander with the same grace that they prepared a baby bottle. "You can handle anything."
But could he?
* * *
Chapter Seven
J o checked her rearview mirror a dozen times to be sure Cam's rental car could stay with her on the twisty turns up the hillside to her house. Not that she thought there was any chance she'd lose him, but the sedan was no match for her four-wheel drive track.
Of course, he was right there. Cameron McGrath wasn't going anywhere. He was one great big, hunky, sexy, charming, threatening, sexy, funny, handsome did she say sexy ?fact of her life. For a week.
The thought sent a wicked shimmy through every nerve ending in her body. k week .
'"What was I thinking inviting him to stay with us?" she asked Callie, glancing back at the baby tucked safely into the car seat in the small back seat of the truck.
Callie chewed on a blue plastic pretzel, lost in her own form of ecstasy, her eyes half-closed and a steady stream of baby drool rolling down her chin.
"You're right," Jo said with a bittersweet sigh. "I wasn't thinking. Who can think around that man? I practically hammered my own fingers six times while he sat therejust" How had he been looking at her? "Eating me with his eyes."
Jo laughed at the look she got from Callie. "It's just an expression, toots. Go back to your pretzel. Pay no attention to Aunt Jo."
"Jojojojojojo."
The sound sent a bolt of happiness right through her and a sharp reminder of precisely why Jo should be thinkingand thinking hardabout the real reason Cameron McGrath had come to California. It had nothing to do with the electrical charge in the air when they were together and everything to do with the baby in the back.
The truck rumbled around the last turn. Through an opening of towering pine trees, she could see the white fence that lined her five acres in the mountains. At the sight of the rambling old farmhouse, a rush of security and familiarity filled her. Today, however, a different mix of sensations tugged at her heart. She was proud of the home she'd bought and restored so lovingly, but how would he see it? A man who lived in a chrome box that touched the sky?
He'd see it for the restored beauty it was, of course. A cozy two-story house with a wraparound porch, generous skylights and the finest handmade pantry in Nevada County. If he had an eye for a good carpentry job, that was.
If not, he'd see a twenty-five-year-old fixer-upper with creaky stairs, two painfully small bedrooms, a drafty chimney and a powder room in sore need of an update.
Puling up to her closed garage door, she climbed out of her truck and opened the back to get Callie. He parked behind her and was out and next to her before she could get the car seat unbuckled.
"You live here?"
Oh, boy. Here we go. She eased out of the cab to see the expression on his face. He was imitating her, of course, tipping back to see the tops of her trees the way she'd leaned back to see his massive skyscraper.
"No express elevator, but we call it home."
He grinned and opened the track door wider. "Need a hand?"
"I got her." She lifted Callie from the seat and threaded the straps of her diaper bag with a free arm. When she emerged, she saw him studying the house and the heartstopping view of the white-tipped mountains that surrounded the valley beyond.
"Nice piece of real estate." The tease disappeared from his expression.
She looked around, seeing it through his eyes. Spring had left the mountains painted in lime and emerald greens, with pine forests so dense they looked black. Enormous white clouds broke the endless blue sky, casting shadows over the valley and the river that meandered through it.
"I told you my views were different.'" She made no attempt to mask the pride in her voice.
"You weren't kidding."
His look of approval washed over her. She wanted him to be impressed with Cailie's home. She wanted him to realize what an incredible place it was to raise a child. Even though she'd been bom and raised here, Jo had never gotten tired of the overwhelming beauty of the Sierra Nevadas.
She waited while he retrieved a canvas bag and a nylon-covered briefcase from his car.
"You planning on working while you're here?" she asked as they climbed the steps to the porch.
"No, the firm can easily live for a week without me signing work orders for a new supply of legal pads."
She detected a note of wistfuhiess in the comment. "No big cases in the works?'^
He shook his head. "Not these days. I suffer from a classic syndrome. Promoted so
high I don't get to do the work I love anymore. I haven't seen the inside of a courtroom in a year."
"Then why the laptop? To send daily reports back to McGrath and McGrath?"
He grinned. "They did ask if I would e-mail a picture of Callie."
Her stomach tightened as she tossed her keys and bag on the mirrored antique dresser that served as an entry-way table. It was only a matter of time until they were all out here, fighting for Callie.
Burying a kiss in the folds of the baby's neck, Jo stepped aside, opting to ignore the comment. "Come on in," she said, breezing through the living room and heading to the kitchen, to what she considered the heart of her home.
In the oversize country kitchen, Callie's playpen and high chair sat near the long table under a window with a view that could double as a page from a scenic calendar.
"Wow," he said as he followed her into the kitchen, magnetically drawn to the breathtaking vista like everyone who entered the room. But he was looking at the counters, tracing a finger over her butcher block. "You're right. Not a seam in sight."
She couldn't hold back a quick laugh as she settled Callie into her high chair. "Right back there," she nod-ded toward the small room off the kitchen, "is a little office and guest room. You have to pull out the couch, but everyone says it's real comfortable. And you can connect your laptop into my wireless, if you like."
Aware that he watched her more than the view, she opened a container of applesauce and poured some crackers onto Callie's tray, then turned to the refrigerator to get some juice. As she did, Cameron dropped into the seat closest to the high chair. "Can I feed her?"
The request stopped her cold. Slowly, insidiously and, oh, so easily, he would worm his way into Callie's world, and then Callie would repay him by worming her way into his heart.
But Jo had invited him to see Callie's stable home, so she had only herself to blame.
"Sure," she said brightly. "You'll need a bib as much as she does, though. She might fling applesauce at your T-shirt."
"And deface the Yankee logo?" The question was more directed to Callie in tone. "You wouldn't do that, would you, sweetheart?"
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