Secrets Of An Old Flame. Jill Limber

scooped his son up, cradling his tiny head in his palms, and kissed his forehead. Michael made a grab for Joe’s ear.

      The touch of those small fingers went straight to Joe’s heart.

      Chapter 4

      Nikki awoke slowly in the darkened room. Her mouth felt like she’d been chewing on cotton balls. Still groggy from the medication, she rolled to her side and stared into the playpen. Seeing it empty, a spurt of panic bloomed in her chest. Then she remembered coming home with a migraine. And Joe.

      He had been so caring and gentle with her. He made her want to fall back to the habit of depending on him, and she couldn’t let that happen. Never again would she trust him after the way he’d used her.

      She had her reasons not to depend on Joe, but she had no doubts Joe would take very good care of their son.

      Their son.

      She turned onto her back and picked the cold lump of washcloth off her pillow. It was the first time she had ever considered sharing Michael. The thought unsettled her. She didn’t want to think about giving up time with her baby to someone else.

      Nikki propped herself up on one elbow. She needed to pull herself together. Then she wouldn’t be tempted to let him back into her life.

      Her first move would be to sell what she could and raise some cash. While she was doing that she had to figure out a way to get Joe out of her house and out of her life. This day-to-day living with him was not going to work.

      She needed to do an inventory and get things organized while she waited to hear from Mr. Carey, but right now there were more pressing matters. The dim light showing through the crack between the drapes told her it must be early evening. Michael hadn’t eaten since the bus ride home hours ago. She could tell by the ache in her full breasts it was way past his feeding time.

      She swung her feet over the side of the bed and sat quietly while she tried to orient herself, wiping away the crust of salt the tears had left behind.

      She remembered Joe coming to check on her at least twice.

      She cringed when she thought about throwing up in front of him in the guest bathroom. Just the fact that it bothered her he had seen her at her worst meant trouble. She was still attracted to him and didn’t want to be.

      Why should she care what he thought? Whatever she’d thought was developing between them a year ago was over. He’d used her vulnerability when she’d needed him the most. She’d never trust him with her heart again.

      She had to admit it was wonderful to have someone take over when she had a headache. Rarely did she have the luxury of sleeping away the pain since Michael’s birth.

      She always had a strange hollowed-out feeling after one of the headaches passed. She made her way carefully to the bathroom, walking gingerly, like someone who had been confined to bed with a long illness.

      She washed her face and combed her hair. It always surprised her how bad she looked after one of her headaches. Out of habit she started to reach for her makeup bag, then pushed it away. She wouldn’t make herself attractive for him.

      She shimmied out of her slip, pulled on fresh panties and a pair of old soft knit pants, thick socks and a worn college sweatshirt.

      As she made her way down the back staircase, she heard the television on in the den beyond the kitchen. She paused as she heard his voice.

      Who was he talking to? She peeked into the room and saw Joe on the couch, Michael propped on his lap, his back against Joe’s chest. Joe anchored him in place with one big hand. Both of them seemed intent on a football game on the television. Their profiles were identical. Michael would grow up to look like Joe.

      Her son would be a handsome man, but he would be a constant reminder of his father. Nikki wondered if Michael’s looks would be a blessing or a curse for her.

      She stood quietly in the doorway, watching the two of them.

      Joe had changed into a polo shirt and jeans. He looked good in casual clothes. His knit shirt fit loosely, only showing a hint of the strong muscles of his shoulders and chest.

      Joe hadn’t noticed her. He laughed and pointed at the television screen. “That was a quarterback sneak with a lateral pass. Gutsy move in this situation, but it worked.”

      Michael waved both his hands and blew a spit bubble in seeming appreciation.

      Nikki shook her head. Male bonding. How like Joe to introduce the baby to his passion. He’d played football in high school and college and loved to watch the game. Nikki remembered a photo hanging on the wall of his apartment showing a much younger Joe flying through the air as he tackled another player.

      She stepped into the room. “I need to feed him.”

      Both dark heads swung in her direction. Joe smiled and reached out to her. “How are you feeling?”

      She took a step back to stay out of his range and before she could answer Michael let out a howl. Instantly her milk let down and formed two wet spots on her sweatshirt.

      Joe moved Michael into the crook of his arm and looked worriedly at Nikki and then down at his son. “Hey, buddy. What’s the problem?”

      Nikki reached up under her sweatshirt and unhooked the cup of her nursing bra as she crossed to the couch. She lifted the baby out of his arms. “No problem. He’s hungry.”

      “You said he’d let me know. The boy has a good set of lungs.” He beamed at her, his face so full of pride it made her want to look away. Her life would be easier if Joe was an indifferent father.

      She pushed the thought back and turned away, carrying the baby to the living room. She settled down on the far end of the bigger sofa, snuggling the baby up under her oversized sweatshirt, guiding him to her nipple. He latched on and sucked hungrily, the suckling noises loud in the quiet room.

      The comforting weight of his little body and the tugging on her breast relaxed her. It always surprised her how all her worries calmed down when she shared precious time with Michael.

      Joe followed her into the room. “Is it all right to feed him after you’ve taken pills for a migraine?”

      Nikki bristled at his question. Michael was always her first priority. “Do you think I wouldn’t check that out with my doctor?” She took a less effective medication for just that reason.

      Joe spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Hey, I’m new at this. I was just curious.”

      An awkward silence ensued as he watched the whole process intently. “He decided awfully suddenly that he was hungry.”

      Nikki glanced over at Joe, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. She didn’t want him there during the feeding. This was her special time with her baby. She didn’t want to share.

      “He’s smart. You’ve never fed him. He didn’t remember he was hungry until he heard my voice. It’s been hours since he ate last.” She stiffened up when Joe sat at the other end of the couch.

      Joe slid a little closer. “How are you feeling?”

      Like a bowl of overcooked pasta, she thought. “Fine,” she said with a bored shrug, wishing he would go back to his game.

      Joe didn’t take the hint. “How often do you feed him?”

      She eyed him closing the distance between them. “Whenever he’s hungry. Sometimes it’s every three hours. Usually around every four hours.”

      “At night, too?” He came off the couch and squatted down on his haunches in front of her. She drew her feet up onto the couch and tucked them under.

      She could smell his aftershave. By the late afternoon it mingled with his male scent into an appealing smell that was all Joe. “No. I can stretch him to six sometimes at night.”

      He reached out and stroked Michael’s