When A Hero Comes Along

“Thanks. Come in.”

He followed her inside and said, “I wasn’t sure about coffee and caffeine for J.T.—”

She held up her cup. “It’s decaf and I miss my morning jolt. Want some?”

The sight of her had already given him a jolt and no caffeine was involved. “Coffee would be great.” He looked around and saw J.T. propped up in a high chair and gnawing on something that looked like a bread stick. He had goo and residue, presumably from a food source of unknown origin in his hand, all over his face and as far down his body as was visible. He reached to the top of his head and ran a grubby hand in his hair, grabbing a hank before pulling it straight up.

“Hey, buddy.” He walked over and squatted in front of the boy who was watching him with big, interested blue eyes. “You’ve got a punk-rock thing going on there.”

“I wouldn’t get too close,” Kate warned, coffeepot in hand. “He’s a mess.”

“Yeah. I have visual confirmation,” he said wryly.

“He’s pretty quick with those hands if you’re not careful. Just like you—” She stopped and her cheeks turned pink. “Never mind.”

Impossible not to mind when she reminded him of how good the sex had been. Not that he needed much reminding. But she was right. It was better not to go there.

He smiled at the baby. “What’s up, J.T.?”

“He is,” Kate said, glancing over her shoulder. “And a lot during the night, too. I think he’s teething. As a matter of fact, that gross thing in his hand is a teething biscuit. He likes to chew on it. Keeps him busy for a long time.”

Joe moved to the bar and watched her put sugar and fat-free half and half in her steaming mug. She was very particular about it, he remembered now. Coffee was practically a religious experience.

With another cup in her hand, she moved to the counter, keeping the bar between them. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He took the steaming mug from her and set it down to cool. Black was how he liked it.

There was nothing like the smell of a good cup of coffee. Unless it was the sweet scent of Kate. The fragrance of her skin drifted to him and all he could think about was fresh flowers and feminine heat. For a woman who hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, she looked awfully darn appealing. For a man who’d given her up, he was still pretty damn attracted. What had he been thinking?

That was a no-brainer. He’d walked before she could. He didn’t want to get burned again. It was as simple as that. But there was nothing simple about the way he got lost in her big, expressive eyes.

“You’re here for a crash course in child care. So—” She dragged out the single word, then took a sip of coffee. Nervous. Good. It wasn’t just him.

“Not quite the way I’d phrase it,” he said and couldn’t help smiling. “More like the basics of baby boot camp.”

“Well put.”

“Where do we start?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the gurgling, babbling baby. “Bath first. Do you want to get him out of the chair?”

He blew out a breath. “A pilot has to take the controls sooner or later.”

“Just remember he’s really sturdy and crying is actually good for his lungs.”

But not so good for my heart, Joe thought.

Last night, his son had cried because he didn’t know his own father. Joe had felt angry, powerless to help, and it had made him hurt in a place he’d never known existed. He hated that. Kate had easily handled the situation. But she had a four-month headstart. More than that if you counted the time she’d carried the boy inside her. It was the time Joe could never get back which had sparked his anger. All he could do was start now and learn, because he never wanted to feel that helpless again.

He started to lift the child out of the chair, then released the seat belt when he got hung up. The baby’s feet caught on the tray and, with one arm around J.T.’s waist, he untangled them.

“And we have lift off.” In more ways than one, he thought when there was an unmistakable sound from the region of the baby’s tush. Sniffing, he said, “Tell me that isn’t what I think.”

Kate grinned and it could only be described as evil, with a little wicked thrown in for good measure. “There’s never been a better time for diaper-changing 101.”

Joe groaned. He held the boy in both hands, out in front of him so as not to squish anything any more than necessary.

Kate instructed him to put the baby down on the changing table, which was the easy part. Keeping him there was like trying to lasso a hurricane. His son wanted to roll sideways, chew on his feet and grab tubes, tissues and everything else lined up for this operation. Joe felt a trickle of sweat on his back, not unlike the first time he’d taken the controls of a helicopter.

“You’re going to need wet wipes and lots of them,” Kate said, amusement dripping from every word.

With one hand firmly on the baby’s midsection, he looked at her. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I know.” She smiled.

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “This is just too good for words.”

She verbally walked him through the process, but remained hands-off while he struggled to keep small hands and feet out of the radioactive zone. Then she told him what he could do with it, the diaper that is. Who knew there was a gizmo that magically contained odors? There was a good reason it was called a Diaper Genie.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Not so fast, Marine.” She laughed. “You’re not finished yet. It’s bath time.”

Lord have mercy, he thought. Words that struck terror into his warrior soul. At least she took pity on him and put out the supplies, then filled the tiny tub. Keeping the baby contained in it was diaper-changing bad times ten. Holding on to a slippery baby was like trying to steady his chopper in a twister. When goo and God knows what else was washed off, Kate handed him the towel. Probably not because she wanted to help him as much as because she didn’t want the baby to get cold.

“I’ve put out his clothes,” she explained.

“Changing table?” He held back the groan.

“You’re catching on.”

Not really, but he was glad she thought so. When he put J.T. down, Kate handed the baby a toy that went straight in his mouth. It also kept his hands busy. She could have done that before.

“Here’s a fresh diaper.” She held out a small, folded, not-quite-square white thing.

“Where are the schematics and operating manual?”

She laughed and opened the square, sliding it under the baby’s bottom, getting in close to Joe’s side. Her shoulder brushed his arm and he swore there were sparks. She glanced at him, then stepped sideways.

“Just cover him and hook the tabs,” she instructed. “Here’s a onesy.”

“A what?”

“It’s a shirt that snaps between his legs so it won’t ride up. One piece. A onesy.”

“Not a very manly name.”