His hand was firm and warm in hers, his face now just kissing distance away. The delicious maleness of him invaded her senses. She tried to ignore the hammering of her heart. This was crazy, it couldn’t be happening.
“Put your arms around my waist,” Joe ordered, his grin widening. What else could she do with him holding her son in his arms and an impatient, dancing line of people behind him? She put her arms around him, the mother behind Joe did the same to her, and the rocking conga line moved on, snaking around the hall. Allison found herself swept up by the rhythm and the fun and the sheer joy of being so close to Joe.
Even through his T-shirt and dungarees, she was aware of Joe’s solid, muscled strength and the warmth of his body. Her awareness was as much cause of the flush on her cheeks as the exhilaration of the dance and the laughter—her own and that of the other people in the hall.
Who could have dreamed she’d feel so happy, dancing around the room, laughing with strangers, reveling in being part of the special magic Joe was weaving on his audience—and the spell he was weaving on her.
If only this feeling could go on forever. If only things could be different. But Joe had said he could never care for another man’s child. He’d even been in sympathy with her father whose similar attitude had made her childhood a cold and lonely place.
Never could she put Mitchell through what went through with her stepfather. She loved Mitchell with a love she could never measure; any man in her life would have to feel the same. If Joe couldn’t, there was no future for her with him—no matter how he made her body sing and her heart soar.
Her birth mother had given her away to strangers. It was an un-erasable hurt she would always carry with her. Joe came from a loving family; he would never feel that pain. Could he ever understand her determination to protect Mitchell from the agony of rejection?
The song came to an end and the audience cheered uproariously, a cacophony of hooting, whistling and stamping. In the midst of so much enthusiastic happiness, Allison felt like weeping. She wanted Joe—wanted him desperately. And she liked and admired him, felt he could be a soul mate as well as a lover. But having him in her life would only lead to heartbreak—for herself and for Mitchell.
Joe led the conga line back to the stage, his hips swinging in a sensual rhythm beneath her hands. When he reached the stage, he asked the conga line to break up, and the kids and the parents to return to their places. Reluctantly, Allison let go of Joe’s waist, her arms feeling bereft.
Joe turned around and handed Mitchell back to her. “There you go, Tiger,” he said.
“Thanks,” Allison said. “That was fun. For both of us.” She tried to smile but her trembling mouth wouldn’t curve upwards. She started to back away.
Joe gripped her arm so tightly it hurt. “Don’t go,” he said, his voice rasping with urgency. His eyes searched her face. “Wait for me. Until the show’s over.”
Allison knew she should go. But it was easy to resolve never to see him again when she wasn’t standing next to him. Her resolutions crumbled when she was kissing distance from those navy-blue eyes with their fringe of dark lashes, that sensuous mouth, that wild frame of dark hair. Her mind was telling her one thing, her heart something very different.
“Please stay, Allison.”
Unable to speak, she nodded.
The concert finished with three encores and riotous applause. Allison—with Mitchell—had watched and danced and clapped along with the rest of the audience, her admiration for Joe’s talent growing with every minute.
Now the audience had departed, and Joe’s band was packing up backstage. From where she and Mitchell sat to the side of the empty auditorium she could hear them calling out to each other, their laughter echoing through the large, empty room.
She felt alone and conspicuous and nervous of what she would say to Joe when she saw him. A sudden thought struck her—would the other members of Joe’s band think she was some kind of groupie hanging around to throw herself at the star? She couldn’t resist an inward giggle. How many groupies came encumbered with an eighteen-month-old baby?
Then Joe came out onto the stage, and her knees went all shaky at the sight of him—even wearing dungarees printed with teddy bears he was the sexiest man alive. He leaped down off the stage and came over to where she sat with Mitchell snuggling drowsily in her arms.
At the sight of him, Mitchell was wide-awake and struggled out of her arms toward Joe. Joe swung him up into his arms. Allison’s heart lurched at how her son’s little face lit up at the sight of his beloved nanny. Was it so impossible for Joe to learn to love another man’s child? But he couldn’t see himself as a stepfather—and he’d been honest with her about that.
She stood up. “Hi,” she said, shy and not at all certain what to say.
“I’m glad you waited. I’ve done a deal with Pete. He’s doing my share of the packing up.”
“Pete?”
“Pete-Bear. There’s him, Greg-Bear and Lindy-Bear.”
Allison couldn’t help a giggle. “And I guess you’re Joe-Bear.”
He grinned. “That’s right. We’re Teddy Bear Beat.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the band?”
“You obviously had me down as a feckless rock musician, so I didn’t like to disillusion you.”
Allison blushed. Had she been that obvious? She’d misjudged him so badly.
“But why were you nannying if your band is so successful?”
“We don’t make a fortune on the concerts. Yet. And the royalties on the CDs took a while to roll in, especially from the American and European markets. But you were my last nannying job.”
“Mitchell missed you,” she said, the words coming out a little stiffly. “He can’t say a lot yet, but he certainly let me know how upset he was that you’d gone away.”
Joe’s face softened, and he ruffled Mitchell’s ginger hair. “I missed him too. I felt bad that I couldn’t say goodbye.”
He paused and shifted from one foot to another. “And I...uh...I missed you too.”
Allison felt her heart do a little leap. She looked up at Joe, noticing his uncertainty, how a slight frown creased his forehead. There was something very appealing about a big, manly guy like Joe, who normally exuded an abundance of self-confidence, looking wary at what her reply might be.
“I missed you, too,” she murmured.
There was tangible relief in Joe’s eyes but his voice was jokey in tone.
“Not just my babysitting services?”
“That, too. And the chef service. But...”
Now she was the one feeling uncertain. It was hard to meet his eyes and she found herself looking down at his sneakers. She shouldn’t be joking about this. It was too important and she sensed he had tensed, waiting for her to reply. “Let’s just say I missed you.”
“I’m glad,” he said and she quickly looked up at him again.
“Glad?” Her voice came out shaky and uncertain.
“Glad you missed me.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Hell, that’s not what I meant to say. I don’t know what I meant to say. I just want you to know I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Me too. Well, uh...I mean not thinking about me, thinking about you.”
Joe’s face lit up. Allison was amazed at how pleased he seemed with her words. Still holding Mitchell, he leaned down. Her heart thudded in anticipation of his kiss, but his mouth had only just grazed hers when one of the Teddy Bears came out on to the stage and shouted down, “We’ve packed up Joe, we’ll catch you later—oh, excuse me…”
Allison flushed with embarrassment at Joe’s friend’s frankly curious stare.
Joe turned and called out his thanks then turned back to Allison. “That’ll give them something to gossip about. He’ll go straight to Lindy.”
Lindy? The pretty, red-haired girl-Teddy? Why would Lindy be so interested in who Joe kissed? Allison remembered long, auburn hair gleaming under a streetlamp.
“Did Lindy jus
t have her hair cut?”
“Yes, she did. How did you know?”
Allison shrugged. “That first night you worked at my house, a girl picked you up.”
“That was Lindy.”
The words came out stiffly. “Are...are you involved?”
Joe looked incredulous for a moment. “Involved? With Lindy? Heck, no. We’re friends, have been for years. You thought...?”
Remembering the girl’s arms going around Joe’s neck, Allison nodded.
Joe looked very serious. “I’m not involved with anyone, Allison. What about you? What about Clive?”
Allison shook her head. “I told him there could never be anything between us but a working relationship.”
“Good,” said Joe, so fiercely Mitchell started. He began to squirm and whimper in Joe’s arms.
“He’s hungry,” said Allison, one part of her desperately wanting Joe to stay with her, another knowing it would be best if they said goodbye.
“Me too, little guy. Want to have lunch with me?”
Mitchell nodded and grinned his gap-toothed grin.
Joe looked at Allison. “Mommy, too?”
Allison hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” she said.
“You don’t sound so sure.”
She took a deep breath. “To be honest, I’m not.”
“It’s just lunch, Allison,” Joe said gently.
She swallowed hard. “I know, but I swore I wouldn’t see you again. You see...” She struggled for the right words. “I’m not the type for an affair. And Mitchell loves you so much already I can’t bear to see him hurt. When...when...whatever might happen between us happens and then ends... I don’t care about me. Not really. Well, I do. But it’s Mitchell...”
“Is that why you ran away from me during the concert?”
She nodded. “You told me how you felt about taking on another man’s child.”
Joe’s brows drew together. “Can’t we just enjoy each other without worrying about how things might end?”
“You mean, when they haven’t even started yet?”
He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “Yeah, that’s just what I mean.”
Careful, Joe, the warning sounded in his head, don’t blow it with her a second time. Choose your words carefully. He was twenty-seven with a whole new career ahead of him. He wasn’t thinking marriage, but he wanted this woman in his life. Wanted her badly. Already, he cared enough about her not to want to hurt her. But surely if they were dating, and things didn’t get too serious, no one could get hurt?
He hadn’t thought a lot about the step-fatherhood thing, hadn’t needed to before. Maybe he needed to talk some more with her about why he felt the way he did. But not here. Not now.
Mitchell was practically asleep. Joe held him close with one hand and, with the other, tilted Allison’s chin so she was forced to look right up at him. Her eyes were wary, her mouth trembling. With desire for him? He kissed her on the mouth, tasting her sweetness and feeling passion shoot through him when her lips parted and the tip of her tongue met his.
“Why worry so much about what might be?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.
Her forehead wrinkled with worry and she looked adorable. “You don’t understand. I always have to consider Mitchell. I can’t take the risk—”
“What risk? That he’ll take it badly if we break up?”
She nodded.
“But Allison, we haven’t even dated yet. You can’t go through life without taking risks, surely you as a banker know that?”
She was flushed and a little agitated, and he was fascinated by the rise and fall of her breasts under her T-shirt. She looked great in jeans and a T-shirt, the tight denim molding to the curviness of her hips and butt. Was she wearing sexy black underwear?
“True, but taking risks with dollars and cents is different.”
“So where’s the risk in having lunch with me today?”
She laughed, but it was a shaky laugh. “Okay,” she said. “Where to? I’m not dressed for anywhere fancy.”
“Hey,” he said, “check out what I’m wearing. Pizza is what I’m thinking of. C’mon, I’m seriously starved.”
She hesitated again. “I’ve got my car here.”
Oh no, he wasn’t going to give her a chance to sneak off again.
“Come in mine, we’ll come back for yours later.”
Joe’s station wagon had seen better days and it smelled—not unpleasantly—of dog. But the child seat was new and secure, Allison was relieved to see. Joe explained he used it for his little sister, Lissa. He was so great with kids. So different from any of the men she knew. And yet he was more man than any of them.
Mitchell woke as Joe strapped him in to the car seat. She expected him to howl with terror at waking up in a strange place. But through half-closed, drowsy eyes her baby looked first at Joe then at her, smiled contentedly, and then nodded off again.
A bittersweet pain shafted through Allison. All’s right in his little world with both me and Joe in it, she realized. But that couldn’t be.
But why couldn’t it? Joe had accused her of anticipating the end of their relationship before it had even started. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had over-reacted. Maybe she was being way too pessimistic.
Joe finished tucking Mitchell into his seat. Then he turned to her. “At last, two arms free,” he said.
He held her tightly against him. Her nipples pebbled and a tingling spread to the pit of her stomach. She put her arms around his back and pulled him even closer. This is where she wanted to be, in Joe’s arms, kissing him, wanting him, on the edge of falling in love with him.
She jumped at the loud blast of a car horn and pulled away from Joe, her face flushed, her breath coming in gasps. A small truck painted bright blue with a teddy bear and the words “Teddy Bear Beat” honked again, and loud male voices whooped and whistled as it drove by. Joe shook his fist in mock anger at its rear view. But he was laughing and so was she.
As Allison got into Joe’s car she felt happier than she had for a long time. Who knows what could happen as she and Joe got to know each other? If a month ago someone had told her she’d want to date a biker babysitter with long hair and an earring, who got up on stage and danced in teddy bear dungarees, she would have questioned their sanity. Maybe Joe, too, was finding himself in an unexpected, un-anticipated situation. Maybe he could grow to care for both her and Mitchell. Maybe—
There she was again, getting way ahead of herself. And fantasizing again.
She’d always thought of herself as not given much to daydreaming. That had changed the minute Joe Martin had walked in her front door. Now she seemed to spend half her life dreaming about him, and what could be.
But right now she should settle in and enjoy the very real experience of sitting next to him in his car. She couldn’t help from surreptitiously admiring his hands with their long, tapering fingers on the steering wheel. She knew how they felt on her body and it made her shiver involuntarily with sudden desire.
“Cold?” asked Joe.
“No,” she said hastily. Just dreaming—again. Dreaming impossible dreams of Joe, her, and Mitchell as a family. She had to stop it. The next thing she’d be thinking about choosing bridesmaid’s dresses—the black leather or the teddy bear print?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Allison checked her appearance in the mirror for what must have been the twentieth time. She straightened her shoulders and sucked in her tummy as far as she could. Why had she allowed that shop assistant to talk her into this dress?
She never wore pink. But the too-persuasive girl had convinced her it wasn’t pink, it was peach. Silk the color of a ripe, downy peach. But now she saw it at night, it looked more like the colour of slightly flushed naked skin. And, talking of skin, there was a heck of a lot of it on display. Especially in the cleavage department where the dress swooped in the front, fastened only with a single hook and a wrap tie.
This wasn’t really the dress to wear to
the Banker of the Year Awards Dinner. Last year she’d worn black, high-necked; the year before black, button-through.
But on neither of those occasions had she been escorted by Joe.
She picked up a comb, intending to pull it viciously through her hair. The hairdresser had put it up, but not in the severe style Allison usually favored. It was purposely tousled, disheveled—the latest look, the stylist had assured her.
What kind of a wimp had she turned into, letting shop assistants and hairdressers talk her into styles she wasn’t used to wearing?
A wimp who wanted to take Joe’s breath away when he came to pick her up, whispered a disconcerting inner voice.
She put the comb down on her dressing table. The hair wasn’t what she had asked for, but she had to admit it didn’t look half bad. And she loved the dress. It was amazing what a difference a slinky, silky dress could make to her confidence. She felt good in this dress—it was a temptress’s dress, womanly, sexy.
Heaven knows what Joe would be wearing. He was a man who swore he’d never wear a necktie again. Who saw a suit as some kind of symbol of freedom lost and creativity stifled. She’d only ever seen him in jeans, leathers, or in overalls printed with teddy bears.
The banking industry was renowned for its conservatism. And tonight was a formal, black-tie occasion. Did Joe even own a tailored jacket?
She’d be the talk of the bank if she showed up with a guy wearing biker leathers. The industry was as gossip-ridden as it was conservative. She knew the talk might not do her career any good. But she didn’t care. Having decided on a last-minute impulse to ask Joe to escort her, she had to accept him the way he was. She’d stand proudly beside him no matter what he chose to wear.
They came from two different worlds and maybe the twain would never meet. But it wouldn’t be from lack of effort on her part.
Clive had hit the roof when she’d told him who was to be her escort. “You must be insane to bring along your bit of rough—keep him at home in the bedroom.”
She knew his crude words were fuelled with jealousy—he’d taken it badly when she’d told him she only wanted to be friends—but they’d hurt. Not for herself. But for Joe. How dared Clive belittle him? Her response to Clive had been cold and he hadn’t liked that.
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