They fell into a strange routine. Jack showed up in the morning early enough to have coffee with Melanie, and he was there when she came home at night. He cooked something fantastic every evening, and they dined together, but after Juliana was tucked in bed, he’d leave with a casual, “See ya.”
Melanie found herself wishing he’d hang around a little bit longer, but she knew that would only lead to trouble. He hadn’t tried kissing her again, but every time he was within a foot of her, she felt her insides clench and pull. She acted as if it didn’t matter, as if she didn’t feel it, but alone at night, she felt only the torment of need.
It was tough when she was learning so much about him and finding something else to admire. The veil between them was growing blurred and it didn’t stop the feeling that she was being worn down. Therein lay the trouble, she thought. He was making himself indispensable. He’d be gone soon, off on some dangerous, classified mission that most of the government wouldn’t know about, and that scared her.
It made her realize that with one mission Juliana could lose her father. And she’d lose a friend. Friends. Yeah, she thought. She never imagined they could come to that equitable of a relationship, but they had. Only, she was coming to expect him to be around, and his job said clearly he wouldn’t be.
She was deep in those thoughts when she stepped into the house and called out. When she didn’t get a response, she set down her briefcase and went looking for Jack. In the backyard, Juliana was in her playpen under a tree, and her father was building something fantastically large in Melanie’s modest yard.
“Jack,” Melanie said patiently, and he looked up. His gaze moved over her from head to foot and she realized he did that a lot.
“Hi, tough day?”
“Not as tough as yours, apparently.” Melanie gestured to the pile of lumber and bolts. “She’s six months old. She doesn’t need a gym set like that.”
“Every kid does. Besides, she’ll grow into it.” Jack kept working.
As she lifted the baby out of the playpen, Melanie’s gaze slipped over the wooden gym set rising in her backyard. It hadn’t been there this morning. He was getting sneaky, she thought. “You really have to stop this buying spree,” she said.
“I didn’t buy it. I made it.” He tightened a bolt and stood, looking at her and not his work.
Melanie gaped at the castlelike set. “You made it? It’s incredible, Jack. When did you have time to do this?”
“At night, at my sister’s place.”
“But you’re here almost every night.”
He shrugged big shoulders. “It’s a simple design, and Lisa’s husband, Brian, has a fair amount of tools in his garage. I did the cutting and sawing there. All I’m doing now is assembling it. The swing and glider were the hard stuff to find. Juliana and I just went on a search together during the day. The red swings were her choice.”
Melanie smiled at him, hitching the baby onto her hip. “You are such a sap, you know that?”
He flushed a little. “Yeah. Besides, it’s a father’s right to dote on his daughter.”
“But a stuffed pony?” She gestured to the taffy-colored stuffed creation as big as a real pony, resting near the playpen.
“Prelude to the real one I’ll get her someday,” he said just to get Melanie going.
Melanie smiled, shaking her head as she walked toward him. “You’re hopeless. And no pony, ever. Unless you plan to clean up the mess and teach Juliana to ride. Because I have no idea.”
“Me, neither.”
“Fatherhood has destroyed your brain cells,” she said, deadpan.
“Maybe we could all learn to ride together.”
“I keep walking right into your verbal traps, don’t I?”
“I’m not trying to trap you.”
“No, you’re not,” she admitted. “Just wiggle.”
He shot her a very manly offended look. “I do not wiggle.”
She laughed and Jack felt knocked to his knees. She hadn’t done that much while he was around. She kept her distance, emotionally and physically. And all he wanted to do was have both from her. He wondered how long he was going to last before the need to kiss her overtook him again.
He glanced at his watch. “You’re home early.”
“Banker hours.” She smiled and stared at him. And there was a lot to stare at, too. He was sweaty and tanned, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms rippled as he tightened a bolt, then lifted the plank for the next piece. His tank shirt did nothing more than absorb the sweat pouring off him, and Melanie’s insides clenched as she remembered what those damp muscles felt like beneath her palms. Beneath her mouth. Pressed against her naked flesh.