Baby Be Mine

As Clair stared into her open suitcase trying to decide what to wear to the ranch, she realized that her options were limited.

She’d only packed one pair of blue jeans, so that narrowed that choice. But what to wear with them was more difficult since she wasn’t sure how dirty she might get.

She opted for the oldest sweater she’d brought with her—a hunter-green V-neck that she wore with a white T-shirt underneath—in case it was ruined.

Once that decision was made and the clothes were laid out on the bed, she took a shower and shampooed her hair, all the while trying once again to calm those familiar jitters in her stomach.

The cause was two-fold today—thoughts of Jace Brimley and thoughts of Willy—as her nephew was apparently called.

Although it wasn’t something Clair would ever admit to Jace, she’d never been much of a kid person. Not that she didn’t like kids. She did. She just hadn’t had very much experience with them.

She’d baby-sat for Kristin. Their ten-year age difference had made her perfect for that. But her younger sister had been the only child with whom Clair had had contact. And that had been a long time ago. So she wasn’t altogether sure how to relate to Willy. How to make friends with him. How to get him to warm up to her. Especially when he seemed to have been totally oblivious to her the previous evening, during the brief time before he’d been dispatched to watch his Barney tape.

Would he even notice she was there today? And if he didn’t, how would she draw his attention? Because she needed to have his attention. She needed him to like her. She needed to win him over. If she could accomplish that, she’d have a firmer footing to stand on when she put in her bid to take custody of him from Jace Brimley.

Jace Brimley. Another cause of her jitters.

Clair didn’t like not being perfectly honest and up-front with him. She wasn’t a deceptive person, and practicing even a small deceit made her uncomfortable. But even if she hadn’t been sure before, she knew that after seeing Jace with Willy last night, he wouldn’t just give her the little boy for the asking.

In fact, she was convinced that if she’d been open and aboveboard about why she was really in Elk Creek, Jace wouldn’t have welcomed her the way he had or allowed her free access to Willy. That would have kept her from bonding with her nephew the way she hoped to and would have left her on shakier ground both in getting Jace to agree amicably to give the boy over to her and in winning any court battle, if it came to that.

She definitely hoped it didn’t come to that, though. She hoped that she and Willy would hit it off and that she could develop the kind of relationship with him that Jace seemed to have. She hoped that, when Jace saw it, he would concede that a blood relative should have precedence over someone who was merely a designated guardian.

Clair towel-dried her hair, then fluffed and scrunched it with her fingers, thinking that gentle persuasion, finesse, tact, and diplomacy were most certainly the routes she wanted to take with Jace Brimley.

After meeting him, after seeing him, she knew that he would not be an easy person to do battle with. Not with those big, bulging biceps and those broad, broad shoulders and those penetrating, blue eyes…

Clair paused in the middle of brushing a light dusting of blush on her cheeks and shook her head disgustedly at her own reflection. What was she thinking? That Jace Brimley would pummel her with those massive muscles or that lasers would shoot from his eyes to burn her alive?

Of course there was no physical danger from Jace Brimley. Any man who could so tenderly handle a toddler a fraction of his size was hardly likely to react with some kind of he-man, World Wrestling Federation antics when she finally admitted openly that she wanted to raise her nephew.

If he decided to fight her over Willy he would likely be a force to be reckoned with. But he wouldn’t present any danger to her.

No, if she were honest with herself, she had to admit that what was really dangerous about Jace Brimley was the fact that her own thoughts kept wandering to things like his bulging biceps and broad shoulders and penetrating blue eyes. Not to mention the rest of his incredibly handsome face and well-built body and even the deep baritone of his voice…

Clair paused again, this time with her mascara wand halfway to her eye. She’d been so lost in thoughts of Jace Brimley that she hadn’t even realized she’d moved on to eyeliner and mascara.

Oh, yes, there was definitely danger in her own wandering thoughts, she told herself as she finished her makeup and abandoned the small vanity table to go to the bedside to get dressed.

In essence, Jace Brimley was the enemy, and it certainly wasn’t good strategy to think about the enemy in terms of staggering good looks and a spectacular body, she reasoned. Even if staggering good looks and a spectacular body were what the enemy had. It also wasn’t good strategy to be distracted by the thrumming of her own heart every time he so much as flashed through her mind. That was truly where the danger lurked. And she wasn’t going to allow any of it.

Of course, if she had met Jace Brimley at a party one Saturday night in Chicago, the staggering good looks and spectacular body and her own involuntary response to it all might make him someone she would be interested in personally.

But this wasn’t a Saturday-night party in Chicago, and being interested in Jace Brimley personally was not part of the plan. She’d come to Elk Creek for one reason and for only one reason—to get her nephew—and that was all she was going to do here. Period.

But as she pulled on her socks and shoes, gave her hair a last fluff and applied a little lip gloss, she realized that the jitters she was feeling had an added element to them. An element that felt suspiciously like eagerness. And not just eagerness to see Willy again. Eagerness to get next door to see Jace Brimley again, too.

And no amount of willpower or reasoning with herself dispelled it.

Especially not when the image of the gloriously handsome man popped into her head again and her heart did another round of that uncontrollable thrumming in response.

I’m here for Willy. And for Kristin’s sake, she reminded herself firmly. And nothing else.

But still her heart kept thrumming, and a little voice in the back of her mind said, But if this was a Saturday-night party in Chicago things might be a whole lot different….

Willy was on the porch when Clair crossed the two yards at exactly nine o’clock. He was so cute that just one look at him made her smile.

He had on miniature blue jeans with the legs cuffed on the bottoms to expose tiny suede work boots. He also wore the heavy parka Clair had seen on the sofa the night before. It wasn’t zipped in front, so between the open sides she could see a navy-blue T-shirt with a bright picture of a cartoon dog and the words Scooby-Doo arched over the dog’s head.

Clair wasn’t sure what Willy was doing, but he was very busy scanning the perimeters of the porch, looking into the two empty clay flowerpots that sentried the front door and even studying the swing seat.

“Hi, Willy,” she greeted as she reached the porch steps.

The little boy cast her a glance from beneath a suspicious frown but he didn’t answer her. Instead he went on about his business.

Clair climbed the stairs and sat on the porch floor, bracing her back against the railing so she could watch him at his own level.

“What are you doing?” she tried again.

“Nussin’,” he finally responded under his breath, pressing his adorable red head as far as he could between the railing slats to peer into the surrounding bushes that hadn’t yet begun to leaf.

“It doesn’t look like you’re doing nothing,” Clair persisted, hoping she’d translated nussin’ correctly. “Did you lose something?”

“No,” he said forcefully, even though searching for something was what he appeared to be doing.

“Can I help?”

“No,” he said, adding impatience and surliness to the forcefulness.

He must have spotted whatever he was hunting for because suddenly he ran as fast as his little legs would take him, around Clair, down the steps and toward the driveway where he snatched something from the side of the porch.

Then he bounded back the way he’d come and charged into the house as if Clair wasn’t there at all.

“Whoa, boy!”

She heard Jace’s deep voice come from just inside as she stood to follow Willy. By the time she was on her feet again Jace was out the door, one big hand on Willy’s head to urge him in the same direction.

“’Mornin’,” Jace said, ignoring Willy’s obvious lack of desire to rejoin her.

“Good morning.”

Willy tugged on Jace’s pant leg—apparently a signal that he wanted to be picked up, because the tall man bent over and did just that, settling the child on one hip.

When he was situated, Willy whispered something in Jace’s ear and in response to it, Jace said, “Her name is Clair. She’s your aunt—that’s someone like Josh and Beau and Ethan and Scott and Devon. They’re your uncles, and ladies like them are called aunts.”

Willy shook his head, vigorously, solemnly and muttered, “Ants’re bugs.”

Clair felt her heart clench at the continuing rejection, but she laughed at his reasoning, anyway.