The Paternity Factor. Caroline Cross

“Hey, Chlo, take it easy,” he said, his voice muffled against her silky head.

      Her response was to press a noisy kiss to his ear. He tensed, uncomfortable with the display of affection, only to have his attention diverted as a familiar feminine voice said wryly, “I think she missed you.”

      He looked up and found Jessy standing at the edge of the pathway. For some reason, the sight of her gently amused face seemed to lessen the strain of the moment. “Yeah, I guess.”

      She resumed walking, her long legs eating up the handful of yards between them as she crossed the narrow strip of lawn. Dressed in a pair of white shorts and a cocoa-colored tank top that brought out the gold tones in her hair and skin, she looked strong and healthy and vibrant. “Welcome home.”

      “Thanks.”

      “How did it go?”

      He shrugged. “Okay.” He gave Chloe a cursory pat, then reached up and unsuccessfully tried to unpeel her arms from his neck. Swallowing a sigh, he settled on shifting her sideways, awkwardly holding her in the curve of one arm so he could reach down and grab his suitcase with the other.

      When he straightened, he found Jessy watching him, her expression thoughtful. Catching him by surprise, she leaned close and laid her hand gently on Chloe’s back. “Hey, sweetie. Why don’t you show Daddy what you have?”

      For a few seconds the toddler didn’t react Then, to his relief, she suddenly raised her head and let loose of his neck. Leaning back, she unexpectedly held up a water-filled plastic bag she had clutched in one small hand. “Isa goadpish, Dada,” she said.

      He glanced from the bag, where a skinny little orange fish was doing its best to navigate the swirling, Chloeinduced currents, to her earnest little face and back again. “Nice.”

      She looked excessively pleased. “Wudy gibbed it to me. Wudy has lotsa goadpishes.”

      He looked inquiringly over at Jessy.

      “Rudy Markovich,” she clarified, leaning over and picking up his briefcase. She started toward the front door and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to fall into step beside her. “He lives on the point—the big gray Colonial with the flag. He’s retired and into fish. Mostly tropical, but he also has a goldfish pond.”

      He considered the healthy flush in her smooth cheeks. “I take it you guys have been for a walk?”

      “That’s right.”

      Leave it to Jessy to go for a stroll and wind up making a friend. With his luck, she’d be on a first-name basis with the entire neighborhood by the end of the summer, ruining any chance of totally reclaiming his privacy once she was gone.

      Yet as he glanced down at Chloe’s glowing face, he had to admit his irritation suddenly seemed petty. Besides, what could he do? Ask Jessy to stay in the house with the blinds closed?

      He could imagine her reaction to that.

      With a caustic twist to his mouth, he murmured his thanks as she opened the door for him and they proceeded inside, continuing on into the living area after he’d set his suitcase in the hall.

      He paused in the doorway, struck by how different the room looked. Part of it was due to the new furniture, no doubt. But there was also no denying that Jessy’s presence had brought an infusion of life and color to the place.

      A fuzzy pink pastel baby blanket was draped over the back of the couch; a jumble of red, blue and green blocks were piled next to the entertainment center, and there was a pair of women’s sandals lying in front of a sliding glass door. There were three brilliantly hued fingerpaintings taped to the refrigerator; a half-dozen pillows in rainbow colors piled across one end of the couch, and a child’s yellow plastic pail sat on one end of the breakfast bar, filled to overflowing with a bouquet of summer flowers in crimson, maroon and magenta.

      The lived-in look didn’t end there, either. Out on his formerly pristine deck, there was now a pair of patio chairs with electric blue cushions, a matching chaise longue and a bright turquoise wading pool. A trio of rubber ducks bobbed on the pool’s shallow surface, as did a hot pink beach ball, while a pair of red-and-white beach towels that had been tossed over the rail gently flapped in the breeze.

      It looked like a home. And it smelled like one, too, thanks to the rich, tantalizing scent of roast beef that was wafting from the oven. Against his better judgment, he heard himself say, “Something smells good.”

      Jessy gave a dismissive little shrug. “Pot roast.”

      He glanced at her sharply. Like waffles and Star Wars, pot roast was one of his favorites and he was struck by the sudden thought that she was deliberately trying to please him. For an instant he felt uneasy, wondering what she wanted from him, and then he caught himself. After all, this was Jessy—not Marissa.

      She headed into the kitchen. “So, were you able to get things straightened out with your supplier?”

      “Yeah.” He turned to keep her in sight. “Things are still shaky, but we managed to come up with some interim financing.”

      “That’s good.” She began to search through the cupboards. Finally finding what she wanted, she went up on tiptoe and lifted down a heavy glass bowl. He frowned as he found himself thinking that she wasn’t quite as skinny as he remembered.

      She started toward the sink, only to hesitate as she glanced over and found him staring at her. “Shane? Is something wrong?”

      He jerked his gaze from her fanny to her face. What the hell was wrong with him? he wondered impatiently. “No. No, I just—whers’d that come from?” Hoping he didn’t sound as lame as he felt, he indicated the bowl.

      “Oh. It’s mine.” She turned on the tap and rinsed it out, then filled it with water and set it on the counter. “Chloe, sweetie, why don’t you come with me—” she walked around the end of the counter to where he stood and held out her arms “—and we’ll put your fishie in his new home.”

      “’Kay.”

      She leaned in and he handed her the toddler. For a moment before the transfer was complete, he could feel the soft pressure of her hand as it grazed his chest, and smell her light scent, a pleasing combination of soap and carnations.

      She straightened and walked away. He stared after her. For a few disconcerting seconds there, he could have sworn he’d felt something that bore an alarming resemblance to...awareness.

      Which was absolutely ridiculous. After all, this was Jessy he was talking about. Jessy, who was practically one of the guys, whom he’d known since she was nine, who—although her effort was misguided—was just trying to make his life a little easier by being here.

      He must be more tired than he’d thought, he decided. Either that or he was just plain mistaken, and had simply confused a belated appreciation for her warmth and kindness toward Chloe for something more elemental.

      Yeah. That must be it. Because thanks to what Marissa had done, he didn’t want to be aware of anybody. And even if he changed his mind in the future, the last person he’d consider would be Jess, who was too young and too naive to be expected to cope with the kind of baggage he carried.

      At the counter, she helped Chloe lay the bag on the water, floating the fish the way that was proper. “There. Mr. Fish should be ready to go in the water after dinner.” She glanced over at him. “Have you eaten?”

      “No.”

      “Good. Right after I clean up a certain person—” she tapped Chloe on her button nose “—I’ll fix the salad and then we’ll eat.”

      He shook his head. “You two go ahead. I’m going to shower and change first.” Mistaken or not, he saw no reason to push it.

      “No problem,” she said pleasantly. “We’ll wait. The truth is, I’d really appreciate the company. As much as I like the munchkin here—” she glanced affectionately at Chloe, then flashed