A Bride by Summer. Sandra Steffen

stepped out from behind the bar and followed, switching lights off along the way. “You two are looking for a nanny for the baby. That’s why Marsh practically offered me a job earlier.”

      “He what?” Reed stopped so abruptly she slammed into him, every lush inch of her front pressing against every solid inch of his back.

      Her hands landed on his waist like a pair of fluttery birds, her breath warm and moist on his shoulder. She was svelte and soft and slender, and if his hands hadn’t been busy carrying the cumbersome carton containing Lacey’s cameras, there was no telling where he might have put them.

      The contact was over quickly, and yet her imprint remained. Heat surged under his skin and need churned in its wake. Heat and need. Man and woman. Hunger and allure.

      This was not good.

      It felt good, damn good. That wasn’t good, either.

      “Sorry about that,” he said, his voice huskier than it had been moments earlier. “I guess I shouldn’t stop in front of you without warning.”

      An awkward silence stretched like evening shadows. Her cheeks were pink and she didn’t seem to know where to look. Reed couldn’t stop looking. A vein was pulsing wildly in the little hollow at the base of her neck. One strap of her tank top had slipped off her shoulder again, baring a faint sprinkling of golden freckles he wanted to touch, with his fingertips, and with his lips.

      Not good. Not good at all.

      Attempting to move his thoughts out of dangerous territory—again—he cleared his throat and said, “You must have made quite an impression on Marsh in order for him to have offered you the position without consulting me.”

      “At the time,” Ruby said on her way once again toward the open door, “I thought it was strange when he asked me if I’ve ever been arrested or cheated on my taxes or had an overdue library book.”

      That sounded like his older brother, Reed thought. “Did you accept his offer?”

      She made a sound men were hard-pressed to replicate. It was a breathy vibration females learned at a young age. He couldn’t see her expression, but he imagined she was rolling her eyes as she said, “Accepting job offers from complete strangers in crowded restaurants is on my bucket list along with picking up hitchhikers, hiking in the woods with serial killers and amputating my toe for fun.”

      Reed walked outside smiling.

      At the threshold of the tavern’s back door, she quietly asked, “What about Joey’s mother?”

      That, he thought, was the million-dollar question. He hoisted the carton of cameras a little higher in his arms and said, “She’s either someone I met during a layover in Dallas last year or an artist Marsh fell for on vacation earlier in the same month. Unfortunately, it could take up to four weeks for the paternity test results to be processed and mailed back to us.”

      “And if she returns in the meantime, as her note implied? What then?” she asked.

      “We’d know which of us is his father, wouldn’t we?”

      “Why did that sound as if you have a plan?” she asked.

      Reed was accustomed to feeling unsettled. Feeling understood was new and far too pleasant.

      Not good. Not good at all.

      “I couldn’t hand Joey back to his mother and pretend this never happened. I couldn’t forget he exists, and I doubt Marsh could, either.”

      “You’d fight for custody?” Ruby asked.

      Shifting slightly beneath the blazing afternoon sun, he opened the trunk of the Mustang he was driving until the mirror on his other car was repaired. “If I’m Joey’s father, and if Cookie had a good reason for leaving him with no explanation—and it would have to be a very good reason—it’s highly likely she’ll be in my life. I don’t know how this is going to end or what’s going to happen between now and then.”

      Shading her eyes with one hand, she said, “Now isn’t a good time for me to lose my direction and it isn’t a good time for you to change yours.”

      “I appreciate the recap.”

      She pulled a face, but she couldn’t help smiling at his wry humor. “Good luck, Reed. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

      “I prefer not to rely on luck.” He closed the trunk and strode to his door. “We’ve hired the most successful P.I. in the state. And by the way—” he turned back toward the bar and pointed “—we’re keeping our eyes open for the young woman Lacey and Noah saw climbing out the tavern’s window.”

      “What?” Ruby yelped. “What woman? What window?” Her voice rose in pitch and volume with every query.