Jingle Bell Baby. Kate Little

      “Uh, no.” Jessie glanced up him, then down at Daisy again. “No, I don’t,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I must say I got a crash course last night.”

      “It sure as hell looks like somethin, crashed in there,” Clint said, glancing into the living room again. “Crashed and burned.”

      Jessie studied his expression. The elation she’d felt hearing that Daisy was staying for the next two days instantly drained away.

      She walked past him into the living room and sat down in the rocker. She sat Daisy on her lap and rocked. The baby’s eyes widened and she smiled as the chair dipped to and fro.

      “I guess that means you don’t want to leave her with me after all,” Jessie said with her gaze still fixed on Daisy.

      Clint was standing near the chair, looking down at the two of them. He pulled off his gloves, then removed his jacket and placed it on a chair. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand.

      “I don’t know that I have much of a choice,” he finally replied.

      Jessie looked up at him. She could feel her gaze getting misty, her eyes filling with tears. This was so silly. She knew the baby had to go sooner or later. Today or the day after next. What did it matter? And she had lied to him. She could no longer deny it.

      She sniffed and looked down at Daisy again. She didn’t want to cry. At least not in front of him.

      Daisy was happily amusing herself with Jessie’s fingers. She let out a happy, high-pitched shriek that shattered the tense silence.

      “What now?” Jessie asked him in a thick voice.

      He ran a hand absently through his thick hair. A muscle twitched in his lean cheek, yet his expression showed nothing. Not anger or even annoyance. Certainly not sympathy.

      “I guess I’ll have to take her back,” he said.

      And the look on her face just about broke his heart. Those huge brown eyes, glistening with unshed tears. Her head bowed again as she stared down at the baby who sat so contentedly in her lap. She looked as if she’d run herself ragged last night, he noted. Without a word of complaint, either. He had the craziest urge to lean over and wrap his arms around her, to feel her head rest on his shoulder as some of that wild, wonderful hair brushed against his cheek.

      You are ten kinds of a fool, Clint silently cussed himself. He should have known better than to get involved with this woman—he should have known a hell of lot better by now.

      Jessie cleared her throat and looked up at him. “You seem to know a lot about babies,” she remarked in a quiet voice. “What to do for them and everything.”

      His eyes narrowed. His expression hardened. “I’m not able to care for Daisy, if that’s what you’re driving at. For one thing, there’s no one to stay with her when I’m on my shift, or called out for an emergency.”

      All he’d said was true and certainly logical. But there was something under his words, some other, more personal reason why caring for Daisy by himself was not an option—though he clearly knew how. Something in his past, Jessie guessed. She had the urge to probe further, yet something in the way Clint looked at her at that very moment warned her off. His look told her that she was treading on very sensitive ground and would do best to back off.

      “Oh, I understand,” Jessie said. “I wasn’t suggesting that you could look after her. It’s just that, I was thinking, since you do seem to know how to care for her so much better than I do, that you could stay awhile and show me what to do. You know, sort of give me some baby lessons?”

       Three

      “You want me to give you baby lessons?” He stared at her; his thick dark brows rose and his blue eyes widened. “Are you this crazy all the time? Or is it just because of the baby?”

      “Well, why not?” Jessie argued. She stood up, holding Daisy against her shoulder. “You could run through the basics with me for an hour or two. If you still don’t think I can handle her after that, then you can take her to Whitewood and I promise I won’t say a word.”

      Clint shook his head and tossed his hands up in the air. “I can take her right now, you know. I don’t exactly need your permission,” he reminded her. “And besides, you lied to me last night, Jessie.”

      Jessie stared at him and bit down on her lower lip. The way he’d said her name, as if they’d know each other for years, instead of hours, momentarily distracted her, his deep voice like rough velvet sweeping across her senses.

      “Yes, that’s true,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry I did that. I apologize. It’s not normally, well, something I do. But I thought I could handle her.” Jessie looked down at Daisy, who was contentedly fingering a strand of her hair. “And I guess I just couldn’t resist trying.”

      Clint drew in a deep breath. He was standing quite close to her, so close that she had to tip her head back to see his face. She was distracted by his nearness, yet didn’t feel she wanted to—or was even able to—step away. His expression was unreadable; his well-formed mouth pursed in a frown.

      “All right,” he said finally. His voice was so low and deep, she’d hardly heard him. “I’ll show you what to do. But if it doesn’t work out, no arguments. Promise?”

      “I promise,” Jessie agreed eagerly. She could feel herself smiling so widely, it practically hurt. “I’ll be good at this. You’ll see.”

      The only thing he could see at that moment was a beautiful, warmhearted woman whose dejected expression had suddenly turned to pure joy. And now all that radiant loveliness was aimed right at him, shining just for him, and he felt as if he’d been hit by a zillion watts of sunshine. And appropriately enough, he thought wryly, he was melting at her feet, like a lump of something soft and sticky.

      “Let’s get started,” he said gruffly. “I don’t have a lot of time for this today.” Although in truth, his shift didn’t start until the evening.

      He collected the bags of supplies he’d abruptly dropped in the hallway and carried them into Jessie’s kitchen. Carrying Daisy, Jessie followed.

      The first task on the agenda, Clint determined, was giving Daisy a bath. While providing a running, instructional commentary, he efficiently cleaned Jessie’s kitchen sink and countertop. Then he set up the counter with a fresh towel and washcloth, bottles of baby shampoo, skin lotion and other essentials.

      The tub was filled with lukewarm water and Daisy was gently submerged. Daisy looked too adorable for words in her bath, Jessie thought. She gazed up curiously at Clint and didn’t even cry when he washed her hair.

      “Some people like to rinse the baby’s hair with a football hold,” he told Jessie. At this point she knew that meant securing the baby under one arm, running-back style. “I prefer rinsing with a cup with one hand and shielding her eyes and ears with the other.” He gently spread his big hand over Daisy’s forehead as he rinsed the soap from her hair with a cup of warm water.