by Holly Jacobs
Gabriel could hardly argue with her rationale, but he still hated seeing the cuts on her foot. He pulled off the other sock, and this time he let out a long whistle. “Did you put something on this?”
“Peroxide.” She grunted as his fingers ran over her insole. Her perpetual smile was replaced by a grimace.
“It should have been bandaged.” He probed the two-inch cut running along the outside of her foot.
“I couldn’t find anything long enough to cover the whole thing.”
Gently he moved her feet from his lap and stomped up the stairs. That cut must have hurt, but she hadn’t said anything. She’d showered, changed, and rigged up an impromptu litter box for the kitten. Then she had helped serve the dinner she had going in the slow cooker—it had been years since he’d had chicken and dumplings. She’d still managed to help with dinner dishes, take a call from someone at Ripples and get Sophie off to bed.
The whole time it must have hurt to be on her feet. Swearing about stubborn females who didn’t know how to ask for help, Gabriel pulled some gauze from the back of the cupboard and went scrounging for the tape. At the last minute, he grabbed the antibiotic cream.
He went down the stairs and sat on the couch. “Give me your foot.”
“Oh, if you have the gauze that’s big enough, I can put it on myself.”
“Give me your foot,” he repeated, and then threw in a “Please?” when it looked like she was still going to argue.
Frowning, she practically threw her foot onto his lap. “There.”
“Thank you.” He dabbed the cream on the cut.
“Ow,” she muttered. “That hurts.”
He dabbed more gently. It had been a long time since he’d doctored someone. “I’m sorry it hurt. Do you want a kiss to make it feel better? That always works for Sophie.”
Her face paled, and Gabriel wondered what was going through her head. He was never quite sure. The only thing he was sure of was that she fascinated him, and the fascination was growing by leaps and bounds every day.
“I don’t think any kissing is necessary. Actually, it’s already feeling better. Thanks.”
“Just part of the service. But, I still think a kiss might help.”
“Ah, but you don’t want to kiss my foot.” Joy scooted back on the couch.
“Maybe we’d both be a little more comfortable if I kissed you somewhere else.”
He swung her bandaged foot to the ground and reached for her, pulling her closer to him. “Let’s see if this makes it feel better.”
“Gabriel . . .” Whether it was a protest or an invitation, he didn’t know, but the minute his lips met hers, he didn’t care. Tenderness was quickly overshadowed by need as his lips urgently explored hers.
“Daddy, I need a drink.”
Reluctantly, Gabriel tore himself away from Joy. What sort of spell had this woman cast over him? “Wait here,” he said. “We obviously have more to talk about.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. Joy was sitting on the couch looking lost. Though he felt as confused as she looked, Gabriel knew that he wouldn’t undo that kiss, even if he could.
As a matter of fact, he’d like to repeat it as soon as he’d given Sophie her drink.
Hurriedly, he gave her the water and retucked her in her bed. But when he returned to the living room, Joy was gone.
He knew instinctively that she was running from whatever was happening between them.
Gabriel smiled. She could run, but he wasn’t giving up. Eventually he’d catch her and see just what these feelings blazing between them meant.
Sophie might have brought them together, but Sophie didn’t play into what he was feeling for Joy now. He couldn’t quite define those feelings. But Gabriel knew that Joy Aaronson was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met.
Seven
“NO,” JOY SAID.
“I thought Mrs. Francis seemed nice enough,” Gabriel insisted as he navigated the car along the winding dirt road.
“She has six kids of her own—”
“Which means she has experience.”
“—And, she watches two others.”
“To help make the financial ends meet without leaving her children with someone else while she works outside the house.”
“What kind of personal attention would Sophie get with eight other children to compete with? What if she wanted someone to read to her? Can you really see Mrs. Francis having time to read, much less to do—”
“The voices,” Gabriel finished for her and sighed. “You’re right.”
“Sophie doesn’t need Mrs. Francis or anyone else,” Blossom said.
Joy stifled a groan and tried to sneak a peek into the back seat. The fairies cheerily waved at her.
“Hi, Joy,” Fern said. “We won’t embarrass you in front of Gabriel, so you can stop worrying. Just don’t talk back to us, and he’ll never know we’re here.”
“And, Blossom’s right,” Myrtle said. “Sophie doesn’t need Mrs. Francis. She needs you.”
“It’s not my decision,” Joy said to Gabriel for the fairies’ benefit. “And you did have a point. Mrs. Francis seemed nice enough and certainly does know a thing or two about kids.” She shot a glare at the back seat.
“You’re wrong,” three fairies said in unison.
“Joy, I said, you were right,” Gabriel said at the same time.
“Maybe not. I mean, maybe Sophie would enjoy being in the middle of all those kids. She might not miss the stories because she’d be so busy with everything that’s bound to go on when there are eight children together, nine counting her.” She paused. “I . . .” her voice trailed off, as she stared at his lips. They’d ignored the kiss. Neither had mentioned it. But all day his lips had distracted her.
“See, Joy wants another kiss,” Fern said excitedly.
“Just kiss him,” Blossom encouraged.
She could ignore the kiss if he could. Too bad she couldn’t ignore the fairies.
“I should hope not,” Myrtle said.
Their ability to read her mind was annoying.
“Not as annoying as goddaughters who ignore their feelings,” Myrtle said. “You know you want to kiss him again.
Joy was determined to ignore any thoughts of kissing. She might ignore the kiss, but she knew she couldn’t forget it. As much as she knew things between them could never work out, Joy planned to remember that kiss for the rest of her life—when it was safe. And it wouldn’t be safe until the fairies were gone.
“But we’re not going anywhere,” Myrtle assured her.
“At least not until you and Gabriel are settled,” Fern added.
Between fantasizing about Gabriel’s lips and worrying about the fairies, Joy was becoming a basket case.
Gabriel pulled to the side of the road and turned towards her, his frustration written on his face. “Joy, I agreed with you. I think Sophie should be with someone who can focus more attention on her. She’s been through so much and—”
“She needs to feel secure and needs someone who can understand that.” Joy wanted someone like that in her life as well. Instead she had three fairies.
“Kiss him, kiss him,” the fairies quietly chanted, like some insane cheerleading squad.
“We both agree, so why are we arguing?” Gabriel asked.
Agree to kissing? No, they were talking about babysitters, not kissing. “I’m not arguing, I’m just discussing. You’re the one who’s getting all upset.”
And Joy was the one who was having trouble concentrating on anything but Gabriel St. John’s lips. She’d like to have another taste, just to be sure the kiss was everything her memory was playing it up to be. But she knew she couldn’t afford to kiss him again. He had Helen, and Joy was leaving as soon as
they found a sitter.
“Helen doesn’t look very kissable,” Blossom said.
“Sort of cold and aloof,” Fern added.
Gabriel said, “It’s just that you didn’t like Mrs. Francis because she had too many kids. You didn’t like Terry because she didn’t have any.”
“And she was only eighteen.” She didn’t add that Terry was stacked and had been giving Gabriel looks that spoke of more than a desire to babysit.
“Ha, jealousy. That’s a good sign,” Myrtle said. “First you were jealous of Helen, now you’re jealous of Terry. Yes, that’s a very good sign.”
“Eighteen is old enough to watch a child for a couple weeks,” Gabriel argued, not for the first time.
She wasn’t jealous, just like she wasn’t going to kiss Gabriel St. John.
“Oh, yes you are. Sooner than you think,” Myrtle said merrily.
Joy ignored the desire to throttle a trio of fairies, which was almost as difficult as ignoring her desire to kiss Gabriel. “Who watches Sophie is your decision. You’re her father. I’m just along for the ride.”
“I want your opinion. You seem to understand Sophie much better than I do. It’s just that yesterday you didn’t like Starling or Mrs. Matson, either.”
“One was named after a bird and looked like a young vampire.”
“She did not,” he said, more humor than annoyance in his voice.
“She was dressed all in black and . . . Well, hell Gabriel, she was scary. And Mrs. Matson was at least eighty—”
“—seventy-one, and the grandmother of thirteen.”
“—and with her walker, she couldn’t have chased Sophie if her life depended on it. As a matter of fact, if she’d tried to chase Sophie, it might have been her life.” Joy had a feeling she would never find anyone who would be good enough for Sophie, but it wouldn’t do to tell Gabriel that. She’d have to try harder to be impartial, but being impartial was next to impossible where Gabriel and Sophie were concerned.
“Like we said, Sophie needs you,” Myrtle said. “And so does Gabriel.”
“And if you’d stop fighting your destiny, you’d see that maybe you need both of them as well,” Blossom said.
“Fine, so what do I do now?” Gabriel asked.
“You keep looking.” She’d do better, she swore to herself, ignoring the fairies. Gabriel was right. It was only a few more weeks until school started, and she was being way too picky.
“Because you care,” Fern said.
“And in the meantime?” Gabriel asked.
“You kiss,” the three fairies said in unison.
“We make it work.” With no kissing, Joy added silently. “I’ll juggle Ripples, don’t worry.”
“Joy, I can’t ask you to continue putting your life on hold. Helen can always help me out.” He turned back to the wheel and eased the car back onto the road.
“I’ve never asked, but just what does Helen do?” Joy had avoided mentioning Helen’s name. She felt guilty for kissing a man who was involved with someone else.
“She works for me. I thought you knew that.”
“Oh.” How convenient. His girlfriend worked for him. Just what kind of work did they do all day long? Business or business? Joy’s imagination was suddenly filled with images of Helen and Gabriel taking care of business in the office. Not that it was any of her concern what they did. They were two consenting adults.
“You could always consent to a few more of Gabriel’s kisses, and then there would be no worry about Helen,” Fern said.
“Anyway, I’ll ask Helen. It would be great for her to spend more time with Sophie. Look how well they managed yesterday. I’m sure it went just as well today,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, sure it did,” Blossom giggled.
Joy paled. What were the fairies up to now?
“Nothing, Joy. We didn’t do anything,” Myrtle assured her. “But since you’re not kissing Gabriel, we’d better go.”
Joy wished she could scream for them to stay right where they were. She had a bad feeling about Helen and Sophie. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of Gabriel’s house. The bad feeling intensified when she saw smoke streaming out the living room windows.
Gabriel swore as he jumped from the car and ran towards the house.
Joy reached over and turned off the ignition, which he’d failed to do, and hurried out her own door. A blaring noise came from the house.
“Sophie?” she called.
The smell of smoke was almost overwhelming as she entered the door, but underneath it, there was a smell of something else, something . . .
“Daddy! Joy!” Sophie screamed, rushing towards them. Joy released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and then deeply regretted that she had.
The smoke was definitely coming from the kitchen. “Gabriel, help!” came a scream.
“Dinner’s served,” Joy said, smiling at Gabriel.
Helen appeared from the midst of the smoke. “I burned dinner and can’t get rid of the smoke, and that alarm won’t shut up.”
“Joy, could you—”
“Take Sophie outside while you help Helen clean up? Sure.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask,” he grumbled.
“I know, but that’s what I’m going to do.” She scooped up the little girl and headed toward the door and the breathable air outside.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Gabriel said, even as he started towards the vile-smelling kitchen. Gabriel’s obvious annoyance at having to clean up Helen’s mess did nothing to lift her spirits. As a matter of fact, she had the urge to go help him, but she ignored it. Just as she’d ignored all the feelings that were continually fluttering around, turning her inside to jelly. Gabriel had Helen. Joy had Ripples. That was what she told herself for what must have been the millionth time.
Her head seemed to be listening.
It was her heart that was ignoring it.
Gabriel watched Joy and Sophie make their escape, his gaze resting on the slight sway of Joy’s hips as she moved. He sighed and looked around the smoky kitchen. “Well, let’s see if we can shut off that alarm and clean up the kitchen.”
Ten minutes later, with all the windows opened, things were much better.
“Gabriel, I’m so sorry,” Helen said for the hundredth time. “I thought you’d be surprised if I had dinner waiting for you.”
“I promise you, I was surprised.”
“I guess I’m just not domestic. The man at the store promised me that anyone could broil steaks.”
Gabriel felt a stab of sympathy for his assistant. Helen was so very capable at just about anything he asked of her. “It’s nice to find there’s something you can’t do.”
“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” She laughed.
“Sure.” They worked in silence, cleaning the charred remains of the steaks out of the stove. Gabriel’s mind turned from burned steaks to the small woman he’d spent the day with. All day long he’d been plagued with thoughts of kissing her again. Kissing her and more—much more. But Joy had kept her distance, and though she seemed to be her normal, friendly self, Gabriel could sense that something had changed.
Gone was the ease they’d experienced. There was an ever-present tension between them, and he had no idea how to get back to where they’d been those first few days. Actually, Gabriel wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to their easy friendliness. Kissing Joy might just be worth the tension.
He’d fantasized about her lips all day. More than that, he’d fantasized about tasting more than just her lips. He wanted to learn every curve of her body, every inch of her. He wanted . . . He wanted her. And from all appearances she didn’t want him. And yet, when she’d kissed him, he hadn’t sensed the wall she seemed to be trying to pu
t up. He’d sensed passion.
“Gabriel?”
He started and realized Helen was talking to him. “Pardon?”
“I asked if everything is all right? You’re awfully quiet.”
No, everything wasn’t all right. He couldn’t figure Joy Aaronson out. Worse, he couldn’t figure himself out. He sighed. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just fine.” At least it would be as soon as he could kiss Joy again.
“Can you steady the ladder while I put the battery back in the smoke alarm? I think the smoke’s cleared enough to turn it back on.”
“Helen, I can do that.”
“Nonsense. This ladder wasn’t meant for someone as big as you. Just hold it.”
Gabriel grabbed at the small step stool which wobbled under Helen’s slight weight.
“Gabriel!” she shrieked as the ladder began to topple.
Gabriel caught his free-falling assistant. “I told you I should have done that,” he scolded, as he lowered her feet to the floor.
Helen laughed. “I knew you’d catch me if I fell.”
“How’s everything going?”
Gabriel turned at the sound of Joy’s voice. He realized his arm was still around Helen and dropped it guiltily. “Fine. Everything’s just fine.”
Joy studied them both a moment and simply nodded. “Sophie and I decided to call for pizza.”
“Great. Whatever you want.”
She nodded and walked silently from the room.
“I don’t think your babysitter likes me,” Helen said.
“Of course she likes you.”
“Men,” Helen grumbled.
He turned and studied Helen. “What do you mean by that crack?”
“I mean, Boss, that Joy doesn’t like me at all, and it’s nothing personal, believe me.”
“What is it then?”
“You’re a big boy, you figure it out.”
And with that, his mouthy assistant left the room.
Women. Who could figure them out? Certainly not Gabriel St. John. He didn’t have a clue. But he knew one thing—he desperately wanted to kiss Joy Aaronson again.
