Baby Be Mine. Victoria Pade

One of their boys is a little older than he is, and they play real well together. Some days they ask for him to come.”

      Jace looked at her for a moment, somewhat pointedly, she thought. Then he said, “Seems to me this is a better way for a boy to grow up than havin’ to spend his days indoors at a day care center or a baby-sitter’s or something. He’s out in the open, learnin’ things, playin’, gettin’ his self-assurance and self-esteem built up by findin’ he can be a help and actually do some chores like he did today.”

      It was hard to disagree with any of that, because she’d seen all of what he was talking about, and he was right.

      But she couldn’t not argue her own side.

      “There’s something to be said for day care when they begin to work on skills kids need for school. Plus they learn there are rules they have to follow and they learn how to work and play with other kids. A good day-care center can give a child a head start.”

      “You think it’s better for a boy to be shut up in an institution every day rather than be out in the fresh air and sunshine with somebody who’s giving him one-on-one attention?”

      “‘Shut up in an institution’?” she repeated. “You make it sound like an insane asylum. There are playgrounds and equipment—it isn’t as if kids are locked in windowless dungeons and fed gruel. They get accustomed to structure and order and schedules. They learn to compromise. They learn that there’s a time for work and a time for play, that there needs to be a balance in life. They learn discipline and order. Hygiene and—”

      Jace laughed. “Are you thinkin’ Willy should be groomed for the military? Childhood as extended boot camp?”

      “Of course not. It’s just that there’s something to be said for today’s day-care centers and for being free to do your own work without the hindrance of a child.”

      The moment she said the word hindrance she knew she’d made a mistake, and the sobering of Jace’s expression only confirmed it.

      Jace leaned forward enough to check on Willy, to make sure the little boy wasn’t hearing any of this.

      Then he said, “I haven’t for a single minute thought of havin’ Willy with me as a hindrance.”

      “I know. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just meant that there’s nothing wrong with a child being cared for by someone other than a parent or guardian while the parent or guardian works.”

      “I enjoy havin’ Willy with me. He enjoys bein’ with me. I think we’re both lucky to have the chance to spend this time together.”

      And that seemed to conclude the conversation as he pulled into his driveway.

      Which was for the best as far as Clair was concerned, because she knew she’d lost more points than she’d gained all the way around today.

      Jace got out of the truck and Clair followed him, stopping to wait near the hood while he went around to the passenger side to unbuckle Willy.

      But as she stood there, she began to wonder where she should go from there. If she should continue to tag along into the house or if the end of the day signaled the end of her time with Willy and Jace—something she was suddenly inordinately loath to have happen.

      She hated to invite herself to stay if Jace was tiring of her company, but she also didn’t want to leave and have him think she’d had her fill, either.

      Luckily Jace solved her dilemma.

      “Tuesday night is pizza night at our house. Want to come back in an hour or so and see what an evening in the life of Willy Miller is like now that you’ve seen what his day involves?”

      A swell of gratitude rose inside Clair, and it occurred to her that she liked this man very much. There was something so strong and confident about him that he wasn’t threatened by the idea of sharing Willy—at least as things stood now. Strong and confident enough that he was trying to help her get to know her nephew, get closer to him, even if Willy wasn’t cooperating.

      It was just plain nice of him. And that was a refreshing change for her.

      Not to mention that it made him all the more appealing….

      “I’d like that,” she said belatedly, when she realized she hadn’t responded to his invitation yet.

      “Great. An hour’ll give me a chance to shower off some of today’s grime and get my dough to risin’.”

      He could surprise her, too.

      “Your dough? You mean you make the pizza?”

      “Somebody always ‘makes’ the pizza, Clair,” he said, teasing her by explaining the obvious.

      “I know someone makes the pizza. I just didn’t think, when you said it was pizza night, that you were the someone. I figured you ordered out.”

      “Can’t order out pizza as good as I make.”

      “And you even make the dough?”

      “Mmm-hmm. The sauce, too. I cook up a batch and can it myself.”

      “Amazing.”

      “I’m a man of many talents,” he said with a voice full of innuendo and a lascivious arch to his eyebrow that made her laugh this time.

      But she didn’t doubt him. And she also realized that there was a part of her that was far too interested in learning just what all he was talented at….

      “An hour then,” she repeated. “I’d like to clean up, too. Can I bring something? I could run into town for—” She was going to say she could run into town for a bottle of wine but she realized that made it sound too much like they were planning a date. So she quickly changed course. “—for something for dessert. Does Willy like ice cream?”

      “Sure, but there’s some in the freezer if we get the urge. After my pizza you might not have room.”

      What Clair was afraid of was just what kind of urges she might end up having. But she didn’t say that. Instead she played off the braggadocio in his last comment.

      “Pretty proud of your pizza, are you?”

      His supple mouth eased into a wicked grin, and only then did it occur to her that the way she’d said that had made it sound as if she was referring to something more personal than pizza. Something a whole lot more personal than pizza.

      But he didn’t miss a beat before saying, “Yeah, I am,” in much the same tone.

      Clair decided she’d better get away from there before either of them ventured any further into the flirting neither one should have been doing.

      “I’ll be back in an hour,” she said with a hint of chastisement in her tone.

      “I’ll be here.”

      “See you in a little bit, Willy,” she called to her nephew, who was hunkered down in serious study of a dead spider.

      Willy ignored her yet again.

      “Mind your manners, little man,” Jace warned amiably enough.

      “Bye-see-ya,” the boy answered without looking away from the spider.

      But Clair had successfully accomplished what she’d wanted, and whatever sparks had been flying between her and Jace were defused. Or at least they were muted some.

      “I guess that says it all. Bye-see-ya,” she parroted, heading off across the lawn toward Rennie Jennings’s house.

      But she could feel Jace’s eyes on her as she did, and she only realized after she was doing it that she’d put the tiniest sway into her walk.

      Knock it off, she ordered herself.

      But even the command and the reminder that she wasn’t there to start anything up with Jace didn’t help. Her hips seemed to have a