Elizabeth Bevarly - Dr. Daddy

Zoey flinched a little, but made no move this time to restrict him. Evidently encouraged by the less violent reaction, he dipped his hand lower to rub her back again. She told herself to stay calm and not overreact, forced herself to stand still and let him touch her. Unfortunately, that plan of action didn’t work, either. Because his simple caress still felt like the most inviting of gestures and, instinctively, she wanted to pull away before things got out of hand.

“I’m fine,” she lied, taking a few deep breaths to steady her heart rate and get her lungs moving normally again. For some reason, though, when she inhaled the musky aroma of him, her heart rate became anything but steady, and her lungs wanted to gulp in the air at a staggering speed. “I’m fine,” she repeated, though whether she was trying to convince Jonas or herself of that, she wasn’t entirely sure.

His hand continued to make lazy circles on her back, and she found herself standing there, immobile, gazing into pale brown eyes that were fixed on her face. For long moments, the two of them only stared at each other in silence, until Zoey made a halfhearted move to pull away.

But instead of removing his hand from her back to allow her passage—because, clearly, she was okay now, Zoey thought, and there was no need for him to remain so close—Jonas settled his free hand on the counter to prevent her from going anywhere. He cupped the fingers of his other hand lightly over her nape and, exerting just the slightest pressure on her neck, he started to bring her head toward his.

“Don’t,” she said softly, trying to pull back.

But Jonas seemed not to hear her and continued the gentle coercion of her head toward his. For one wild moment, Zoey forgot about the animosity she felt for him, forgot the reason she was normally so cautious around men. For one wild moment, she allowed herself to be drawn forward. His eyes were so compelling, the shape of his mouth so intriguing. He smelled so good and his touch was...oh...so gentle. No man had ever touched her in quite that way before. But when she realized what he was trying to do, understood that he had every intention of kissing her, she panicked, bolting from his arms to race to the other side of the room.

She purposely positioned herself so that the kitchen table was between them, knowing the gesture was silly even as she completed it. As if that meager barrier might actually keep him away from her if he wanted to try to again kiss her again, she thought. As if such a move would prevent her from reaching out to him.

“I’m fine,” she insisted for a third time, clutching the back of a chair when she realized how badly she did, indeed, want to reach for him again. Good heavens, what was happening to her?

“You certainly are,” Jonas agreed in a quiet, ragged tone of voice unlike any she’d ever heard from him.

He cleared his throat abruptly and returned to his seat at the table, then proceeded to sip his coffee casually, as if the past few moments had never occurred. Zoey eyed him curiously, wondering if maybe she had completely misinterpreted what had just happened between them.

Of course she had, she told herself with a silent sigh of relief, lifting a shaky hand to her forehead. She must have. He’d only been trying to stop her coughing. There was no way he had intended to kiss her. She simply must have misread the signs. She’d just pulled a double duty at the hospital, she reminded herself, and had just come off the graveyard shift. She was tired and, as usual, Jonas Tate’s presence was making her edgy. Considering their history and the quickness with which the two of them generally went for each other’s throats, the last thing the man would want to do was kiss her.

The realization brought with it an odd mixture of reassurance and regret, but she ignored the feeling as she returned to her own seat at the table and pulled the chair away. Before she could sit down, however, Jonas stood, moving quickly toward the other side of the room to stand in precisely the same spot Zoey had just vacated.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he stared at the ceiling as he asked, “Would you? Help me out, I mean. With...with the baby. With Juliana.”

When she said nothing in reply, he dipped his gaze to the floor and rushed on, “You’re obviously good with her. She took right to you, the moment you held her in your arms. She likes you, Zoey. That’s a hell of a lot more than I can say she feels about me. I don’t know what to do. I’ve had her for more than two months now, and I...” He lifted his head to meet her gaze levelly as he concluded, “I just...I don’t know what to do.”

It was costing him plenty to ask for her assistance, she realized. Clearly, he was at his wit’s end if he was coming to her for help. The two of them were mortal enemies, completely at odds over just about everything. He didn’t like her, and she didn’t like him. But he was desperate for help. So desperate, he’d even ask her to come to his aid. It was a strange feeling to have Jonas Tate dependent on her.

Zoey knew what it was like to have a newborn suddenly placed in one’s care—the shock and panic, the lack of sleep and abundance of exhaustion, the feelings of helplessness and fear that accompanied a baby’s arrival. And that was with people who’d had nine months to prepare for the event. Jonas had become a father virtually without warning and was obviously still unequipped for the responsibilities that had been heaped upon him. He did, indeed, need help. And she was perfectly capable of helping him.

If she wanted to.

“Why do you need my help?” she asked him. “Don’t you have someone looking after her during the day while you’re at work?”

“Not anymore. No one has seemed appropriate. I don’t know if you realize it, but there’s a real child-care crisis going on in this country.”

She twisted her lips into a wry grin. “So I’ve heard. There’s also a very good day-care center at the hospital for employees. Olivia McGuane keeps her son, Simon, there during the day while she’s at work. So do most of the other nurses who have kids. I’m sure Juliana would thrive and be perfectly happy there.”

Jonas shook his head. “Juliana hasn’t thrived or been happy since she arrived. I’d worry about her constantly if I didn’t think she was getting continuous, one-on-one supervision at this point. At least until she gets over this...this anguish...this despondency she seems incapable of ridding herself of.”

Zoey shook her head in disapproval. “She’s only a baby, Dr. Tate. She’s not in charge of her happiness and contentment—you are. You can’t expect her to behave and react like an adult.”

“I don’t, I—” He ran a big hand helplessly through his hair. “Look, Zoey, I know we’ve had our differences in the past,” he continued, moving slowly back toward the table. “And I know we haven’t always gotten along very well.”

“Very well?” she repeated with a unfelt chuckle. “We haven’t gotten along at all.”

“I know,” he told her as he sat down. “And I apologize for that. I haven’t been the easiest person to deal with since Juliana’s arrival, and I’ve been rough on everyone at the hospital.”

“Maybe so,” she agreed. “But you seem to go out of your way to come after me in particular. Most of the people at Seton like you in spite of your behavior.”

Jonas noted well the unspoken statement that Zoey was one of the people who didn’t. He wished he could deny her assertion, wished he could laugh off the pronouncement as simple paranoia on her part. Unfortunately, he knew what she said was true. There were times when he did seem to single her out for some reason. And if he were in a crowded room, a room full of people who’d ticked him off for one reason or another, he knew it would always be Zoey he wanted to come down on first.