Babies By The Busload. Raye Morgan

shook her head firmly. “She only has one tooth,” she said sensibly.

      Jack shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “There, you see? We’re loud, but we’re basically civilized around here. Go on. Pick her up.”

      J.J. took a deep breath. Reaching down, she practically dosed her eyes as she took hold of the child, but a few seconds later, Kristi was in her arms and she held her awkwardly. Jack rose, carrying his little bundle gently and nodded toward the rocking chair.

      “Go ahead and sit there,” he said. “They love it.” And he left the room.

      J.J. hesitated, but there wasn’t much choice. Kristi was yelling too hard to do much else with. Sitting gingerly and shifting the baby, trying to position her up against her shoulder the way she’d seen the others do, she held her breath as she tried to settle the child, but the crying seemed to be increasing in intensity, and though the baby didn’t struggle, she was weeping as though the world had turned against her and her heart was about to break.

      J.J. looked over at Annie, feeling definitely inadequate. Annie’s baby was quieting, snuggling against her and winding down to a whimper.

      “Good boy, Baby Mack,” Annie said. “Good boy.” She gave him a pleased pat and looked up at J.J. “Kristi likes to cry,” she noted. “Daddy says she’s the champion crier in the family.”

      Oh, great. They gave her the most difficult one right off the bat? She started patting and rocking and praying under her breath, but without much hope. Surely she was doomed to spend the night rocking with a baby howling in her ear. That just seemed to be the way things were going to fall.

      But as she rocked, a strange thing began to happen. The little body that had felt so stiff and awkward began to relax. The round head stopped bobbing against her shoulder and pressed into the hollow of her neck. One little fist grabbed hold of the collar of her shirt. And the crying began to slow.

      And another funny thing happened at the same time. When she’d first picked the baby up, she’d almost wrinkled her nose, sure the child would be sticky and smelly. And at first, the rejection she’d felt from the baby had made her think she was right. But now…well, now, with Kristi snuggling against her and only whimpering, and slowly falling asleep, a whole new sense of her came over J.J.

      Now she was soft and sweet and delicious to hold, like nothing she’d ever held before.

      Funny. Very funny.

      Looking around the room, she noticed that Annie seemed to have taken the one they called Baby Mack off to bed. Jack came back into the room and she looked at him warily, but his smile was pleased, if quirky.

      “Well, you did it—is it Miss Jensen?” he said, taking the baby from her and slinging her effortlessly against his shoulder with the practiced ease of a longtime daddy.

      “J.J.,” she said, moving to the edge of her seat and watching him, impressed, if a bit confused. This scene hardly fit the picture she’d had of Jack all these years, and certainly seemed at odds with her more recent vision of him as a playboy.

      “Ah yes, J.J.” Kristi had settled down immediately in those familiar arms, her eyelids heavy and falling over her bright blue eyes. She was worn-out from all that crying and ready to rest up for her next round. He patted her rhythmically and swayed to the beat, turning to smile at J.J. again.

      “Well, you need some refreshment, I can see that.”

      “That’s all right.” She jumped up like a startled deer, ready to make her escape. “I’ll just be going now.”

      “Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t get off that easily.”

      He said it with such authority, she found herself sinking back into the chair again as though she’d been programmed into doing what he said, as though he were still the boss.

      “You need a cup of tea,” he said cheerfully, starting toward the bedroom with his bundle. “And I’m brewing a pot right now. You just sit right there and relax. I’ll be back.” He dropped a kiss on his baby’s fuzzy head. “Come on, angel face,” he crooned to her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

      Sitting back, she watched him go, feeling torn. She thought of her bag of fast-food chicken sitting on the counter in her own condo drying up, and she thought of her early call for the morning show, but she had to admit there was something about this beautiful man that drew her in. She wanted to stay for a few minutes, just to see what made this guy tick.

      Annie came out of the bedroom and gazed at her. “I have new shoes,” she told her seriously. “Black ones. I’m going to wear them to church on Sunday.”

      “Lucky girl.” J.J. smiled at her, noting again how similar her facial structure was to her father’s. “I love new shoes.”

      Annie nodded, and Jack came out, dropping to sit on the couch with a sigh of weary relief. “They’re all asleep, at least for now,” he said.

      “Can I have juice?” Annie asked.

      “Oh, sure, honey,” he said absently, “But say ‘may I?’“ he added as she left for the kitchen. Turning, he gave J.J. a warm, encompassing smile that made shivers start down her backbone, reminding her to keep her guard up. The man was too attractive for his own good—and for hers. She had to be careful not to fall under his spell.

      “You’re a lifesaver, J.J.,” he said easily. “J.J.,” he repeated. “What are the initials for?”

      “My name,” she replied shortly.

      “Ah, it’s a secret.” He grinned as though that only made her more enchanting. “Can anybody guess?”

      She raised an eyebrow. Why on earth did he deem it necessary to turn the old charm on her, of all people? “You can guess all you like,” she said, her tone almost defensive.

      “A lady of mystery.” He looked at her speculatively as Annie came out of the kitchen with a plastic tumbler of juice in her hands.

      “It isn’t Jennifer Jones, by any chance? Or are you too young to remember who she is?”

      “I’ve seen a few old movies in my time. And no, it isn’t Jennifer Jones.”

      “Julie Junie?” asked Annie, getting in on the act. “Janie Jamas?”

      Jack threw his head back and laughed. “Never mind, pumpkin,” he told his serious little daughter. “J.J. wants to be called by those initials, and that is what we shall call her. It’s none of our business why she wants to keep her name a secret.”

      J.J. opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. He was teasing her and she knew it. Enough. She wasn’t going to get sucked into his games.

      “Well, you seem to have your hands full with all these children,” she noted, trying to change the subject.

      He nodded. “That we do. It must seem a madhouse to you. But things will get back to normal around here soon enough.”

      “If Marguerite comes back,” Annie muttered tragically.

      There was an awkward pause, and then Jack filled it with a quick laugh.

      “Marguerite,” he said scornfully. “Let her go, I say. We’ll find someone better than Marguerite.” He turned and looked with interest at J.J., as though he’d suddenly had a bright idea. “Can you cook?”

      J.J. didn’t get a chance to answer. The telephone rang and Jack went to take the call while she stayed behind, fuming. Could she cook! What a question.

      She began glancing at the door, wondering how she could get out without that long-promised cup of tea, when he returned to the room and said breezily, “The tea should be just about ready. I’ll get us some. You sit tight.” And he went on into the kitchen.

      J.J. looked at Annie. Annie looked back. J.J. tried to think of something to say. What did one talk to a five-yearold about? Luckily