Clay (Texas Rascals Book 11) Page 8

  Their eyes met over the top of her head.

  “You want the high chair or the kid?” he asked.

  “The kid.” Tobie stepped over and released Molly from the chair.

  The baby was truly sobbing now, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. “Now, now, no need to get upset. We’ll have you clean in a jiffy.”

  “Watch your clothes,” Clay warned, but it was too late. Molly reached out and wrapped her arms around Tobie’s neck.

  She’d probably ruined her cocktail dress, plastered as it was with baby food, but Tobie didn’t care. She loved the feeling of the sweet baby glued against her body.

  Molly buried her face in the curve of Tobie’s shoulder and instantly stopped crying. “Come on, Miss Mess, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “I’ll help,” Clay volunteered. “I’ve bathed her by myself; I know how much she wiggles. After we bathe her, I’ll deal with the high chair, while you shower.”

  Clay was right. She would have to shower. Carrying Molly into the bathroom, she stood looking in the mirror and making funny faces at the baby while Clay filled the tub with tepid water, then stepped to the small cabin-sized clothes dryer to toss in a towel to warm for after the baby’s bath. A thoughtful gesture that touched her. How many men would think to heat the towel?

  Molly’s peals of laughter pleased Tobie straight to her toes.

  “Ready?” Clay asked, turning off the water. “Let’s get her undressed.”

  Tobie perched on the edge of the bathtub, the baby clutched in her lap. Clay knelt on the floor in front of them and unsnapped the buttons of Molly’s jumper.

  The image of this man, tall and strong, tenderly undressing the small child, ripped a hole of yearning through Tobie’s very soul. Oh, how she wanted this! A sweet infant and an attentive husband who helped with childcare. Would such happiness ever be within her grasp?

  Molly giggled as Clay tickled her lightly, then he pulled off the soiled jumper and dropped it into the hamper. During the process, his muscled forearm brushed against Tobie.

  She sucked in her breath through clenched teeth, shocked at the erotic sensation. Only the thin silken barrier of her cocktail dress separated their bare skin. The cool porcelain bathtub beneath her bottom provided a sharp contrast to the riotous fire building deep within her lower abdomen.

  The bathroom seemed to grow smaller, closing in on them until a panic gripped Tobie. What on earth was she doing here?

  Schooling her features to display a nonchalance she did not feel, Tobie shifted her weight, trying uselessly to distance herself from Clay.

  He seemed oblivious to her uneasiness. Leaning in closer, he removed Molly’s diaper, his warm breath tickling the hairs on Tobie’s arm.

  “C’mere, wiggle worm,” he cooed, holding his arms wide.

  Molly cooed in return and blew drool bubbles. She kicked her arms and legs, delighted. Her little eyes never leaving Clay’s face.

  A surreal sensation enveloped Tobie. She felt as if she were outside herself, watching the scene unfold. She saw Clay’s fingers, lean and powerful, lifting the baby from her lap. She admired the big kiss he dropped on Molly’s cheek. She breathed in the sweet baby scent clinging to her clothes and mixing with the smell of baby food.

  “Here we go, sweet pea.” Clay knelt beside the bathtub, his shoulder grazing Tobie again as he lowered the baby into the water, her body cradled in the crook of one arm.

  He doesn’t need my help caring for Molly. This man was more than capable of fatherhood.

  Tobie gazed at Clay. Dusty-brown curls trailed down his collar. She suppressed a sudden longing to run her fingers through those touchable locks, cup the back of his head in her palm, and trace her lips over that firm chin, those high cheekbones.

  Stop it. Tobie averted her eyes.

  After Clay had settled the baby securely into the tub, he reached over for a yellow rubber duck nesting on the soap dish. The duck whistled when he squeezed it.

  Molly chortled.

  Clay began singing the “Rubber Ducky” song from Sesame Street, complete with sound effects.

  Tobie tried to imagine Edward doing such a spontaneous, lighthearted thing and failed. At the thought of her broken engagement, her spirits lifted. She’d made the right decision. But just because she was no longer entangled with Edward did not mean she should start anything with Clay.

  She knew little about the man. She’d do well to keep him at arm’s length.

  “Could you pass me the baby shampoo?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Tobie still perched on the edge of the bathtub. “It’s on the shelf beside you.”

  Tobie extended the bottle toward him.

  “Could you please get down here and help me,” Clay said as Molly splashed like a fish. “I need all the hands I can get. This kid is slippery when wet.”

  Laughing, she bunched her skirt in one hand and knelt beside Clay, her knees sinking into the fluffy bath mat.

  “I’ll lean her back in the crook of my arm,” he said. “While you wash the goop from her hair.”

  A startled expression crossed Molly’s face when Clay tipped her back in the water. He spoke to her in a soothing voice, and she relaxed, giggling as the water lapped about her ears.

  Tobie squeezed a modest dollop of shampoo into her palm and lathered Molly’s hair. The baby’s eyes grew wide as she looked from Clay to Tobie and back again.

  “She’s such a little lamb.” Tobie sighed wistfully, massaging Molly’s scalp.

  “Quite a kid,” Clay agreed, beaming down at his niece.

  “She trusts you completely.”

  “You think so?” He shot Tobie a quick glance.

  Her heart torqued again, and the sensation of panic was back. If it wasn’t so late, if she just had a car, if her house wasn’t being fumigated…

  But it was late, and she didn’t have a car, and pest control would be at her townhome bright and early to start the tenting.

  Face facts. Like it or not, she was here for the night.

  Tobie’s sweet violet scent was driving Clay nuts. How he wanted to rest his head against her shoulder and nuzzle that supple neck. Would she like his hot, wet kisses planted there, or would the good doctor prefer a light nip of teeth against her skin?

  “Are you kidding?” she said. “Molly’s crazy about you.”

  “I barely know what I’m doing.”

  “What do you mean,” she said, looking like she meant it. “You’re a natural.”

  They crouched over the bathtub, their shoulders touching. Glancing down, he studied Tobie’s controlled breathing. Did she feel the same burn of chemistry as he? Clay gulped.

  In the small room, the tumbling clothes dryer generated a lot of heat. Pellets of perspiration beaded on his forehead. He swiped at his upper lip with a shirt sleeve.

  The steamy climate left Tobie seemingly unaffected. Like a fairy-tale princess, she remained composed, unruffled. She looked regal instead of incongruous, bathing a baby in a silk cocktail dress.

  Straight jet-black hair framed her pale complexion and accentuated her delicate features. A gold bracelet glimmered at her slender wrist. Smoky-gray shadow shaded her eyelids, and her brows were plucked into perfect arches. She was the epitome of cool. Could anything melt Snow White’s cool exterior?

  “Tobie,” he whispered.

  She raised her head. Their eyes met.

  What Clay saw startled him. The sheer longing in her gaze clutched at his throat and hung on with the intensity of a pit bull.

  Her chin quivered.

  His gut shivered.

  She wanted him!

  In that one split second, he had read her mind, and he just knew. Despite her impervious manner, Tobie was as hot for him as he was for her!

  Molly whined, drawing their attention.

  “Goodness, Clay, you’re getting water in her ears. Hold her higher while I rinse her hair.”

  Clay obeyed. His pulse thundered through his veins as he held the baby aloft
.

  Molly’s whines broke into full-fledged sobs.

  “Okay, okay, princess,” Tobie said. “We’re all done.” To Clay, she said. “I’ll get the towel.”

  Getting to her feet, she stepped to the clothes dryer for the towel Clay had put in to warm.

  He handed Tobie the baby, and she wrapped the tiny girl in the large fluffy towel. Molly’s eyelids drooped, and she yawned.

  “Somebody’s finally getting sleepy.” Clay stood up. He dried his hands on his pants leg and reached out to take Molly from Tobie. “You hop into the shower, and I’ll put her to bed.”

  The very idea of Tobie’s naked body in the shower had him fighting to control his overactive imagination.

  If he didn’t get himself in hand, it would be a very long sleepless night.

  10

  Clay took the towel-swaddled baby and left Tobie standing in the bathroom. Ruefully, she assessed the baby food encrusted on her silk dress and smiled. She could just imagine what Edward would have to say about her appearance.

  Reaching around to undo her dress, Tobie discovered the zipper was stuck. Mumbling under her breath, she let out a yelp of surprise when Clay knocked briefly at the door, and it swung open.

  Why hadn’t she locked it?

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I brought your luggage,” he explained.

  “Could you help me with this zipper?”

  “Um,” he said. “Okay.”

  They were standing in front of the mirror. Tobie turned her back to him so that Clay could work at the zipper. She studied his reflection in the mirror from her peripheral vision.

  He was leaning over slightly, his concentration focused fully on her stubborn zipper. His angular face took on a studious quality. A lock of hair flopped down over one eye, and he brushed it away with the back of his hand.

  Glancing up, he caught her watching him in the mirror and winked a bad-boy wink. Quickly Tobie jerked her gaze away and stared at the floor.

  His nimble fingers gently worked the zipper down until he’d inched past her bra.

  Tobie hitched in a ragged breath. With the clothes dryer off, the room had lost its warmth. Goosebumps carpeted her skin, and she tried not to shiver.

  “Cold?” Clay asked, the heat from his fingers grazing her upper back as he inched the zipper lower.

  “A little.”

  Clay kicked the door shut with his foot. “That better?”

  Good gracious, no!

  She was alone with him, not even the baby for distraction. If she turned around at this very moment, she would be in Clay’s embrace. She found the idea appealing, and that terrified her.

  Things were moving too quickly between them. She’d just broken up with her fiancé tonight, and now she was in another man’s bathroom, feeling his fingers tickle lightly down her back.

  His palm splayed against her bare skin, and Tobie gasped. What on earth was he doing? She heard his ragged intake of breath.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “I’m holding the top of your dress. The zipper has run off its track.”

  “Oh.”

  The coldness invading her body dissipated as fast as it had appeared. In its stead, she felt herself filled with a honeyed heat, her body going limp and pliable as liquid plastic. Did he experience the same deep-down vibrations as she?

  “Where’s Molly?” Tobie asked in a shaky voice.

  “Her Pack ’n Play. Although with that ingenious kid, I shouldn’t leave her alone too long.”

  “Yes. Perhaps you should go check on her,” Tobie agreed. “Thanks for getting the zipper unstuck. I can finish it from here.”

  “You sure?”

  “Oh, yes.” He couldn’t get out of there fast enough to suit her.

  “Okay.”

  “Bye.”

  Clay left the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. He heard the lock click shut and smiled to himself. Was Dr. Tobie Avery feeling the same things he was?

  Did her mouth go dry? Did her pulse race? Did her entire body tremble with the thought of kissing him? If he kept this up, he would need an ice cube shower. How could he possibly keep his hands off her?

  In all his thirty years on the planet, Clay had never been so mesmerized by any woman. He couldn’t stop thinking about her velvet black hair or her pale flawless complexion or those soft kissable lips. Everything about her turned his insides to fire, but it was her sweetness that completely undermined him. He wanted her.

  Needed her.

  Clay sat on the couch with Molly tucked in the crook of his arm, staring unseeingly at the chattering television set. For years, he’d avoided meaningful relationships with the excuse that intimacy was too emotionally costly, too time-consuming, and now it appeared he’d fallen victim to his own tender trap.

  Had it been less than a week since Molly and Tobie turned his life topsy-turvy? For the first time in four years, something took precedence over his invention.

  He heard the shower turn on, and he gulped. His mind detached and wandered from the living room into that damp, warm bathroom with Tobie.

  Groaning, Clay closed his eyes. He could see her, standing naked beneath the nozzle, water pit-patting over her sublime physique, her frilly lace panties folded neatly on the counter, the smell of her ambrosial scent filling the air like a spring floral bouquet.

  The image was so vivid, so starkly real, Clay stuck one knuckle in his mouth and bit down hard.

  Just then, Molly let out a squeal and promptly kicked him in the stomach.

  “Oof.” Clay expelled his breath in an agonized whoosh, his desire instantly evaporating. That kid had a mean kick.

  Molly jabbered and grinned at him.

  “Dang.” He grimaced and rearranged the baby in his lap. “Aren’t you too young for martial arts?”

  She babbled, nodding her head as if she understood every word.

  “Yeah? Well, I pity the poor fool who gets fresh with you on a date.”

  The water in the bathroom went off, and Clay sat up a little straighter. Tobie would step out of the shower now and rub herself dry with a terry cloth towel. She’d finger-comb her moist hair and slip into her pajamas, the downy cotton material molding to her superb form.

  “Better kick me again,” he told Molly. “Your Uncle Clay needs good sense knocked into him.”

  Tobie dressed in her pajamas and shook her hair free from the bath towel. Damp tendrils feathered about her face. Folding her evening dress, she tucked the soiled dress under her arm, unlocked the bathroom door, and stepped out into the hallway.

  She found Clay sitting on the sofa with Molly clutched in his lap. His head was bent over the baby, her bare toes wiggling in the air. Her laughter was high-pitched and delighted. That’s when Tobie realized she’d interrupted a game of This Little Piggy.

  Something squeezed Tobie’s chest. An emotion she couldn’t name.

  Clay glanced up, his face flushed and grinning. Tobie thought he looked unbearably sweet.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice rumbling deep and husky.

  “Hi.” Tobie grinned back.

  His gray eyes met hers, cloudy as a damp spring day. Tobie felt her neck heat. She set her evening dress in the chair next to her purse. For the hundredth time since she’d accepted his invitation to spend the night, she questioned her decision. Convenient it might be. But prudent? No way.

  “Have a seat.” He inclined his head at the sofa cushion beside him.

  Hesitantly, Tobie picked her way across the living room, dodging hunks of sheet metal, a box of tools, Molly’s stroller, and a plastic laundry basket filled with stuffed animals and squeaky toys. What a contrast, she thought, Clay’s mechanical equipment jumbled with Molly’s infant accoutrements.

  Tucking her legs underneath her, Tobie curled up on the sofa beside Clay and Molly.

  “Can I hold her?” she asked, extending her arms to take the baby.

  “Why, sure.” Clay relinquished the child.

 
Molly fit perfectly in the curve of Tobie’s arms. The baby felt soft and snuggly in her little pajamas. Her eyelids drooped, and she stuck her thumb in her mouth. “Are you finally getting sleepy, little one?”

  Clay looked at his watch. “It’s really late. Anne usually puts her down at seven-thirty.”

  Bringing Molly to her shoulder, Tobie gently patted her on the back. “Your sister will be very proud of the way you’ve cared for her baby.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you,” Clay said. “I really appreciate your help. You’ve been a godsend.”

  Tobie couldn’t even tell him how much he and Molly had helped her. If these two had not come into her life when they did, she might never have realized how much she wanted children. She might have stayed in her self-delusional haze and married Edward out of neediness. These two had gifted her with freedom. She owed them a lot.

  “I think she’s asleep already,” Clay whispered, leaning over to peer at Molly’s face. “Let’s put her to bed in the Pack ’n Play.”

  “I can’t get over how good you are with her.” Tobie rubbed soothing circles across Molly’s back as she got to her feet and followed Clay into his bedroom where he had the Pack ’n Play for Molly’s temporary bed. “And the baby seems so happy with you.”

  “I’m happy with her too.”

  She looked at Clay’s face alight with love for his niece. His mouth softened at the corners as he gazed at the infant. A lump formed in Tobie’s throat. Molly was a very lucky little girl. He might be a flaky dreamer, but Clay was also the most kindhearted man she’d ever met.

  Clay took Molly from her and carefully settled the baby in the Pack ’n Play.

  “You and your sister must be very close.”

  “Well,” Clay said, “We don’t get to see each other as much as we’d like.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Do you have brothers or sisters?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I always regretted that.”

  They both stood there looking at the sleeping child for a moment, then tiptoed out of the room, leaving a lamp on the bedside table burning as a nightlight.