Baby Be Mine

by Victoria Pade

  Which it did.

  But then he came back again. And again. Each time for a little longer. Each kiss a little deeper. Until he stayed. Until his lips parted and coaxed hers to part, Until mouths were suddenly open. And his tongue introduced itself to her, tentatively tracing the bare insides her lips, the sharp edges of her teeth, then greeting her tongue, too.

  By then his arms were around her and he was holding her pressed against him. His big hands were played out on her back, doing a massage she began to long for on other body parts. Other, much more sensitive body parts.

  By then her own arms were around him and she was delving into hard ridges of muscle and wishing to feel them without his shirt as chaperone.

  Her nipples were hard knots making themselves known at his chest and yearning for some attention from those wonderful hands kneading her spine, working their way lower, to just the beginning swell of her derriere.

  And if she'd had any lingering doubts about ending things with Lyle before, she certainly didn't have any as Jace's tongue did a circle dance with hers and increased the level of passion play with each orbit, with each meeting of tip to tip, with each stroke of tongue to tongue. Because never had Lyle brought to life the things that just a kiss from Jace brought to life in her. Never had Lyle made her feel what just a kiss from Jace made her feel. Never had she wanted Lyle the way she wanted Jace....

  But when the reality of that sank in it scared her. And she remembered that she hadn't left Lyle behind to find Jace. She'd left Lyle behind to find Willy.

  And kissing Jace – no matter how incredible it was and how much she wanted it to go on and on – was not aiding her cause.

  So, even though she didn't want to, even though her whole body, her whole being, was crying out not to, she ended their kissing.

  "I should go," she said in a low, breathless voice that nearly begged him not to let her.

  "Mmm," he muttered for a second time, recapturing her lips with his and tempting her to forget her resolve.

  "Really," she said between kisses that took first her lower lip between his and then her upper.

  "Are you sure?" he asked, kissing one corner of her mouth, then the other, and nuzzling her cheek with his nose.

  “I’m sure," she said even more breathlessly, less convinced, less convincing.

  But then she thought of Willy again and said, "I'm really sure."

  Apparently that was enough to let him know she meant it, because he took a deep breath, sighed it out and finally stood up too straight to kiss her again.

  “Okay," he conceded reluctantly.

  Then he slid his hands to her shoulders and down her arms until he was holding only her hands. He brought one of her hands to his mouth and kissed the back of it, lingering long enough to breathe a luxury of hot air there before he let go of that hand, too, and took her to the front door holding only the other one.

  “Do you think we'll be snowed in tomorrow the way they're saying?" she asked, hating how enticing the idea was of lying before a roaring fire while drifts of snow piled up outside.

  I wouldn't be surprised," Jace said, his voice still deep and raspy. Then, after a moment of looking down at her intently, a smile playing on those wonderful lips, he seemed to slip out of the intimacy that had been between them and return to a just-friendly tone. "I was thinking about replacing the garbage disposal tomorrow. What would you say to bein' in charge of Willy while I’m at it? The space is too small for him to get into with me and since my head will be mostly inside the cabinet I won't be able to keep an eye on him.”

  “You mean I'd take care of him? On my own?"

  “Well, you'd be takin' care of him here, and I'd be available if you needed me. But basically on your own, yeah."

  "Will he let me do that, do you think?"

  "It'll take some work but we'll just be firm with him."

  "Okay," Clair agreed, but her own insecurity echoed in her voice.

  "If it doesn't work out we'll adjust," he assured her.

  "But it would give me some one-on-one with him," she said, thinking out loud.

  Jace didn't say anything to that, and she wondered if he was having second thoughts. So before he could rescind the offer, she said, "I'd like that. I'd like to try it, anyway."

  "Then that's what we'll do. Why don't you come over about eleven? That'll give me a chance to do some snow shovelin' before I get started with the disposal."

  "I'll be here."

  Clair smiled up at him, thinking that this man had so many facets and no flaws that she could find even now.

  He leaned around her and opened the front door, almost as if he had to or he might have whisked her in the other direction – up the stairs.

  Or maybe that was only Clair's own wishful thinking.

  "I'll see you in the morning, then," he said.

  She nodded and tried to push away a sudden, intense longing for him to kiss her just once more the way he had at the window.

  "Tell Rennie thanks again for dinner tonight."

  "I will," Clair assured him as she finally felt him let go of her hand with one final squeeze.

  "Good night," she murmured, stepping out into the cold night air.

  “G’night."

  Since she had refused to bring a coat, she headed in a hurry for the house next door, wrapping her arms around herself as protection from the frigid air.

  But not even that shock of cold could wipe away thoughts of Jace. Yearnings for Jace. For more of what they'd just shared. And some of what she only wished they had.

  And the whole way to Rennie Jennings's house Clair couldn't help wishing with all her being that the arms that were hugging her weren't her own.

  And that the bed she was rushing to wasn't, either…

  Chapter Seven

  There were fifteen inches of snow on the ground by morning, and it was still falling so heavily that Clair couldn't see to the end of the block when she looked out her bedroom window.

  However, she could see Jace and Willy shoveling the sidewalk that ran in front of Rennie's house, their house and the house on the other side of them. Just the way Rennie had told her Jace did whenever it snowed.

  It was early yet, and Clair was still in her bathrobe, steaming coffee mug in hand. She was headed for the shower before too long, but while she sipped her coffee she couldn't think of another show she'd rather be watching or another thing she'd rather be doing, so she stayed where she was and enjoyed the sight.

  She couldn't see much of Jace's face. He had on an old salt-stained cowboy hat pulled low over his brow keep the snow off his head, and he was looking down at what he was doing, doubly obscuring his handsome features. But it wasn't actually his face that he was interested in at that moment, anyway.

  He had the shoveling down to a rhythm, so it was like watching a well-oiled machine or some kind of interpretive dance. Powerful legs braced his weight and that of the heavy shovelfuls of snow as his broad ill bent to the task and muscular arms wielded the tool.

  It was beauty in motion in its own fashion. Beauty clad in cowboys boots, faded jeans that caressed his thighs and rear end with a loving touch, a jean jacket that brushed his hips and encased his upper body as perfectly as any Armani suit, and shearling gloves that only added to the massiveness of hands that Clair craved the touch of.

  No, that wasn't a good thing to think about, she reprimanded herself. That was a perilous frontier to venture into. All the more perilous because she wanted so much venture into it.

  But she knew she couldn't. In spite of how the previous three evenings had ended.

  She hoped that spending today with Willy, being in charge of him and sort of having him to herself, would finally allow her to connect with him. And then maybe she could speed things up, let Jace know why she was really in Elk Creek and take her nephew back to Chicago with her before whatever was happening between her and Jace went any further. Because Willy was her goal, and she'd spent the last twelve hours trying to burn that into her bra
in so she wouldn't keep lapsing into things she shouldn't be lapsing into with Jace.

  With that in mind, Clair forced her gaze off Jace and onto Willy. Her nephew worked with a plastic toy snow shovel behind the big man, copying his movements with the small amount of snow Jace left behind.

  Willy was dressed much as Jace was except that his boots were snow boots and his coat was the heavy parka Clair had seen him wearing in the past. He wore jeans, gloves and a cowboy hat that made Clair smile. It was too big for him, so it fell ail the way to his eyebrows and the tops of his ears.

  But keeping her eyes off Jace was impossible, and before she knew it she was watching them both as they worked together. As Jace made sure to turn around after every few strokes to see what Willy was up to. As Jace paused to help Willy adjust his gloves and hat when they went askew. As Willy studied how Jace jabbed the shovel into the white stuff, lifted it and tossed it aside, then did the same thing himself. As Willy stopped when Jace stopped and brushed snow off himself just the way Jace did.

  It was funny. But it was touching, too. And for the first time Clair wondered how it would be for the two of them to lose each other.

  Oh, that wasn't a good thing to think about, either, she realized when it stabbed at her from the inside.

  But Jace and Willy weren't family, she thought as she searched for some reason, some rationalization that would ease that ache. They hadn't even been an adopted family for very long. So maybe she wouldn't be doing any actual damage by breaking them up.

  Breaking them up...

  She didn't like the sound of that.

  But that was what she'd be doing, and there was no pill she could put on it that wouldn't make it so. She just had to face it – she was going to hurt them both.

  It wasn't easy to accept that. Hurting anyone was something she tried never to do.

  But what was the alternative?

  The alternative was to leave things as they were. To leave Willy to Jace.

  Just then Willy's hat flew off and, as he looked up to see where it went, Clair caught such a clear glimpse of her sister in him that it made her catch her breath.

  And in that moment she knew she just couldn't accept the alternative.

  In that moment she was reminded all over again that Willy was Kristin's son. That he was Clair's nephew. That he was a Fletcher.

  And whether or not Willy had bonded with her yet, Clair felt bonded to him. She felt bonded to him in a way that Jace could never be, no matter how good he was with him, no matter how much hero worship Willy had for Jace. None of that canceled out that deeper tie Clair had with the little boy. So how could he just turn her back on him, on all of that, walk away and leave him to Jace?

  She couldn't. Not even if it caused some pain for everyone involved.

  The pain would only be in the short run, she reasoned – again in an attempt to make herself feel better about the whole thing.

  And in the long run she truly believed that Willy would be better off with his own family. That he would be better off with someone who could keep his mother alive for him. With someone who could let him know his history, let him know who and where and what he'd come from. That he would be better off with someone who would keep him connected to his roots.

  And Jace, too, would be better off if he were free of raising a child who wasn't his, she told herself. If he were free to go on with his life, to meet someone and fall in love with her without the encumbrance of someone else's child. Free to start a family of his own from scratch.

  In time everyone would be better off, and that was what she had to keep in mind. She was only doing what was right.

  At least she hoped it was what was right.

  No, it was. In the long run, it was.

  Except that, as hard as Clair worked to believe that, deep down she still felt bad.

  Bad for Jace to be without Willy.

  Bad for Willy to be without Jace.

  And bad for herself, too.

  Because when this was finally over and Jace was free to go on with his life, she'd know that was just what he was doing. She'd be left to picture him making that life with someone else.

  And she suddenly knew without a doubt that that would hurt her every bit as much as she was going to hurt him....

  “Doan wanna pay wisCair. Wanna hep you." Willy's decree came in answer to Jace explaining that he needed to work alone today but that Willy got to play with Clair. As if it were a giant treat.

  Willy didn't see it that way.

  “We can do anything you want, Willy," Clair interjected.

  “Wanna hep Unca Ace," came the logical answer, accompanied by a scowl in her direction that said, if the toddler could banish her from the planet, he would.

  You just can't today," Jace said firmly. "Now take Clair into your room and show her your toys."

  “No."

  “Willy..." Jace's tone was full of warning.

  “I doanyike her. She's a gu-wl."

  Clair tried not to let that hurt her feelings but it did.

  “Hey, I don't want to hear that," Jace said sternly. “And since when don't you like girls? You liked Lissa just fine last night."

  “Big gu- wls," Willy qualified.

  “Big girls are the best kind," Jace said, barely supsuppressing a smile as he glanced up pointedly at Clair.

  “You're just being contrary now," he said. "If you're a good boy and you play nice with Clair while I work, we’ll go out and build a snowman when I'm finished. The three of us. But if you aren't a good boy and you don't play nice with Clair, no snowman and no popcorn tonight with the Toy Story movie, either."

  Clair didn't think it was possible but Willy's scowl got darker and deeper. And for the first time she thought he was actually mad at Jace.

  It seemed like a moment she should seize. "Why don't you show me your favorite toy, Willy, and we'll play with it."

  "Go on, now, boy. And be nice," Jace said with just enough force to let Willy know he meant business.

  Willy spent another moment giving him the two-and-a-half-year-old version of the evil eye, then switched it to Clair, turned and stomped off.

  Jace gave her a sympathetic smile. "Okay. You're on your own. Good luck."

  "Thanks. I think I may need it."

  There was no doubt about it, she definitely needed it.

  No sooner had Clair followed Willy out of the kitchen, where Jace was opening his toolbox to get to work, than Clair found her nephew opening the front door and – without a coat on – charging outside as he announced he was "dunna time the twee."

  "You can't go out there and climb the tree," she exclaimed, running after him.

  She caught him just as he was about to go down the porch steps. "It's too cold out here. We have to play in the house," she told Willy as she took his hand and struggled to keep hold of it to pull him back into the house while he fought to get away.

  "Now let's be nice, Willy," she said, attempting to sound like Jace in his authoritative mode. But it had absolutely no effect on Willy, and she finally had to pick him up and carry him inside.

  Once she had, she locked the door so he couldn't run out again and took him upstairs to his room before in put him down.

  "Now let's see... What should we do?" she said, surveying the possibilities among the toys that spilled out of a wooden toy box and lined shelves on two walls.

  “I wanna hep Unca Ace."

  “I know but you can't today. So let's you and I do something run. How about that ball over there? Do you like to throw the ball?"

  “You fo de ball. I wanna go down 'tairs." And off he went, leaving Clair alone in his room before she knew he was going to run away again.

  “Maybe I need more than luck," she said to herself.

  She found Willy in the kitchen with Jace. Jace was on his back on the floor, his upper body inside then cabinet under the sink, his long, jean-clad legs bent at his knees. Willy was standing between them, reciting the “I wannahep you" chant.

 
Down came Jace's arms from working on the disposal to hit the little boy out from between his tree-hunk thighs so he could slide out of the cupboard.

  “He keeps getting away from me," Clair said, stating the obvious and hating the fact that frustration already sounded in her voice.

  Jace nodded knowingly, and Clair wondered if what he knew was how hard it was to keep control of the headstrong two-year-old, or if what he knew was that she wouldn't be good at this.

  But either way he was patient with them both.

  "How 'bout a tent?" he suggested. "Snowy days are good days to make a tent."

  "I make a great tent," Clair lied.

  “And you can take your Digimon guys into the tent to play with."

  Willy frowned at the idea but didn't reject it out of hand the way he usually did.

  "Digimon?" Clair asked.

  "They're these kind of animal-monster things. Pokémon' s competition. ' '

  Clair wasn't sure she knew what Pokémon was, either, but she didn't want to seem stupid or uninformed, so she just acted as if she knew what he was talking about.

  "I'd love to play with your Digimon stuff. And build a tent," she said with elaborate enthusiasm.

  Willy looked at her as if she were nuts, but he actually conceded.

  "You can take a sheet out of the upstairs closet to make the tent," Jace told her then.

  "Should I build it in Willy's room or – "

  Another smile eased its way onto Jace's breathtakingly handsome face as he seemed only then to see through her fib about being a great tent maker. "We like to do it in the living room. That way you can tuck one end of the sheet behind the sofa cushions, tie one of the other corners around a desk leg and the other one to the back of the rocker."

  "Got it," Clair said, tearing her eyes off the appealing sight of the big man sitting on the floor, his wrists resting on his upraised knees, hands dangling over his shins as if he were perfectly comfortable down there.

  “I’m sorry we bothered you," she apologized.

  “No problem."

  But he was beginning to sound skeptical. As if he wasn’t sure she could actually handle Willy.

  And even though she wasn't too sure of that herself, she decided to redouble her efforts to prove she could. But as the day wore on it was no easy task. The tent was a bust. While she rearranged the living room making the tent out of a sheet, Willy played with his Digimon toys. By the time she was finished and the tent was ready to occupy, he'd lost interest, found his toy tool belt and was once again in the kitchen with Jace.