The Sheriff's Doorstep Baby by Teresa Carpenter

Author:Teresa Carpenter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I SAW the baby furniture in the room across the hall. I guess David delivered everything.”

“He did.” Keeping her attention on the array of stains and paint on the shelf, Michelle smiled at Nate’s terse tone. “Between the three of us we got it all upstairs and put together. I like Kim. And David. They seem really happy together.”

“You already made your point there,” he said grimly. “We’re not going to talk about their relationship.”

“Okay, fine. What did the attorney say?” After being introduced to the lawyer, she and Jack had waited in the reception area while Nate finished his business.

“Can’t we talk about the weather?”

Concerned, she stopped and faced him. “It was that bad?”

“No.” His expression softened and he cupped the side of her face in his large hand. Briefly, gently, he swept his thumb along her cheek before dropping his hand.

“I liked him. He doesn’t anticipate any problem with the court granting me full custody.”

“Good.” She forced a smile, pretending she didn’t already miss his touch. He was an uptight lawman, in a go-nowhere town, and he stood between her and what she needed to do to get out of said nowhere town. Yet a single caress melted her insides.

That was just wrong.

Intent on self-preservation, she turned back to the shelves. They’d already been to the warehouse store to pick up food and baby supplies. They were now at Wal-Mart and had half the baby section loaded into two carts. Jack sat propped up between her oversize purse and a Spider-Man fleece blanket Nate insisted he needed.

Her last chore was to gather the items on her home improvement list. Best to stay on task.

“Whoa.” Nate’s hand closed around the tin of lavender paint Michelle moved toward her cart. “I said no purple.”

“It’s not purple. It’s lavender.”

“Which is just froufrou for purple.” He put it back on the shelf. “It’s not going in Jack’s room.”

Michelle tried to reach around him to retrieve the can of paint, but he blocked the shelves with his big body. Hands crossed over his chest, he sidestepped every time she did.

“It’s not for Jack’s room,” she assured him, feinting one way then quickly back the other hoping to catch him off guard. He simply wrapped one long arm around her waist and reeled her in.

“I don’t want it anywhere in the house,” he declared.

Suddenly breathless and way too close to his taut, muscular body she went still, ending their crazy dance for power.

“Enough.” She planted both hands on her hips. “It’s not for the house, either. It’s for outside.”

“You want to paint my house purple? Oh, hell no.”

That got her back up. “My house,” she corrected. “I’ll paint it any color I choose.”

“Not while I’m living there,” he responded. “New rule, I get veto power over all improvement projects.”

“I don’t think so. You haven’t put a single bit of yourself in the house. And for the baby’s room your idea of decorating is a stuffed bear, a dump truck and a Spider-Man blanket.

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