His son squirming against him, he turned on the kitchen light and gave her a pointed look. “You should be in bed, Jordan,” he said, his tone quietly censuring. “You’re absolutely exhausted.”
She made a tense gesture toward the hallway. “I thought you were in the nursery. The door was shut.”
He stared at her a minute, then went to the fridge to get the bottle. She intercepted him. “Here,” she said, reaching for the baby. “I may as well feed him.” Clearly avoiding Murphy’s gaze, she left the room, turning down the hallway to her bedroom.
Murphy wearily dragged his hand down his face and exhaled heavily. He didn’t know what in hell to do, but right then he was too tired to think. Stripping off his shirt, he headed for the second bathroom. Maybe a shower would wake him up enough to talk to her.
The scalding-hot, then ice-cold shower did wonders, and he felt almost human when he knocked on her bedroom door. Her soft “come in” had that kind of hush that told him J.J. was either asleep or close to it. The light on the table was turned down low, leaving the room in muted shadows. It was clear from her done-up buttons that she had finished feeding the baby, and she was bending over him on her bed, changing his diapers.
She didn’t look at him, and he could hear that she was very close to tears when she spoke, her voice breaking. “He’s probably going to be so fussy tomorrow, and your family will think he’s a terrible baby.”
Murphy stared at her, his heart skipping at least three beats as realization rushed from the top of his head to the tips of his rocked-out toes. Well, hell, he’d never even considered it from that angle.
Finally getting his thoughts together, he went over to the bed and slid his hands under his sleeping son, gently moving him to the cradle. Careful not to wake him, Murphy covered J.J. with the Baba Blankie. Without saying a word, he caught Jordan by the wrist and hauled her down on the bed alongside him. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, he lifted her head onto his shoulder, then wrapped her up in a tight embrace.
Inhaling the scent of her, he rested his head against hers, his chest so jam-packed with emotion he could barely draw a breath, let alone speak. “Jordan, honey,” he said softly, tightening his hold. “Let me tell you about my family.” He smoothed down her hair, then began rubbing her back, trying to reassure her. “There have been so many babies through our house that everybody just takes each one as they come. It wouldn’t enter any of their heads to judge him. They’re going to make a big fuss over him, then give us enough advice to sink a tanker.” Breaking his own rule, he brushed a light kiss against her forehead. “They’ll love him, Jordan. Warts, colic and all.”
He heard her swallow hard, then she whispered against his neck. “He doesn’t have any warts.”
Murphy smiled, loving the fact that she was right there to champion their son. Giving in to impulse, he did what he’d been dying to do for days. He hugged her hard. “I was speaking of figurative warts, darlin’. We all have ’em, you know.”
He felt her smile, and some of the tension left her and her body softened just a little. His head still resting against hers, Murphy continued to stroke her back as he stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom, trying to find exactly the right words. Giving her another light squeeze, he spoke. “I know that meeting my family is going to be a little daunting for you,” he said, his tone very quiet. “But I really want you to come. They’re good people, Jordan.”
Her hand closed into a fist on his chest, and her voice was still a tight little whisper when she answered. “But maybe it’s best if I don’t go, if they never get to know who I am.”
Shifting his head so he could see her, he caught her under the chin, prompting her to look at him. His gaze was absolutely sober. “No matter what happens,” he said, his voice gruff, “you’re always going to be JJ.’s mom, and that makes you a part of the whole Munroe clan. That’s just how it is with my family.” She stared at him, and he caught glimpses of fear and uncertainty, but he also caught a glimpse of something else—something like wistfulness—something that made his chest plug up. It cost him big time, but he somehow managed to give her a reassuring smile. “And they are all going to have such a good time, telling you about all the rotten things I did.”
It was almost as if she were huddling in his warmth. “What things?” she whispered.
Unable to handle the somber look in her eyes, he tucked her head against his neck, smoothing his hand up and down her bare arm. He wanted nothing more than to just hold her, to shield her from her past, but he made himself talk instead. “My father is going to tell you about the time I dropped the garage door on his brand-new car, and my mother is going to tell about the time I cracked both my wrists trying to hang glide off the roof of the garage in this contraption my brother and I built. And my sisters are going to tell how Mitch—my big brother—and I used to make life hell for their boyfriends.” He rubbed his jaw against her hair and tightened his hold. “Stuff like that.” There was a brief silence, then he gave her another little squeeze to get her attention. “But I gotta level with you, Kennedy. One of the reasons I want you to come is because I’d really rather not face them on my own.”
She abruptly shifted her head and stared at him, trying to determine if he was lying. He wasn’t. She held his gaze for an instant longer, then nodded. “All right. I’ll go.”
He smiled back at her. “Thank you.”
Murphy really, truly expected her to make some excuse and get up, but she didn’t. Instead she turned her face into his neck and grasped the back of his shirt, hanging on for dear life. It knocked the wind right out of him, and he closed his eyes and tightened his hold on her, his whole body responding and his pulse running totally amok. A hot want sizzled through him, and he clenched his jaw against the rush, his lower body growing hard, his swollen flesh pulsating. He tried not to react, tried not to respond, but it was damned near impossible, especially when some sixth sense told him that if he pressed her just a little, she would give him what he wanted. But a sliver of rationality held him back. If he was ever going to build a lasting bridge with her, next time she was going to have to come to him.
Except his throbbing body had a mind of its own, and he had to block out the ache that was urging him to turn on his side and press her full length against him. If it got too bad, he had the choice to leave, but he knew that wasn’t even a remote possibility. He would suffer the agony for the pure relief of having her in his arms. And he’d hold her all night if he got the chance.
Murphy had no idea what brought him sharply awake. But he knew exactly where he was and whose weight was pressing against him. Ever so carefully he tightened his hold on her, then pressed a kiss against her hair.
The table lamp was still on, its light muted and suppressed by the classy bordello shade, and he opened his eyes wide, feeling as if he’d actually gotten some decent sleep. He shifted his head slightly, his attention landing on the split in the drapes covering the balcony doors. A sharp buzz of recognition shot through him. There was no doubt about it; that was the faint gray light of dawn peeking through. Dumbfounded, he swiveled his head to check the clock on the bedside table—5:43 a.m. Hell, it had been after eleven when they put J.J. down. Alarmed, he tightened his hold on Jordan and raised his head, looking at the cradle. His heart clamoring, Murphy braced himself, half expecting to find his son gone. But he was right there, asleep on his side, sucking on his thumb and looking like the absolute little angel he was not.
His pulse still going like gangbusters, he dropped his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, relief making him dizzy. Man, he hoped it was a long while before he had another scare like that.
As the fizz of alarm settled, two things registered. One was that his chest was wet. And two—his son had slept through the night. The whole entire night! That was so astonishing he wanted to shake Jordan awake and tell her the amazing news. But he smiled at the ceiling instead, thinking that finally here was a kid with a sense of timing. Shifting his head on the pillo
w, he ran his hand up Jordan’s arm, suddenly aware of just how wet his chest was. His grin deepened. She was going to be as embarrassed as hell when she woke up and discovered she’d leaked all over him.
Tightening his arm around her, he pressed another soft kiss against her forehead, a sudden thickness forming in his chest. If he had one wish right then, it would be that he could spend the rest of the day like this. His kid asleep in his cradle by the bed, her asleep in his arms. It couldn’t get much better than this.
His lower body sharply reminded him that he was dead wrong—that it could definitely get much, much better than this. Murphy closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. Sex was not part of the big picture. At least not right now. Even setting aside what had happened between them before and the caution required, he had to think of Jordan. She was exhausted, almost dead on her feet from breast-feeding and dealing night and day with a fussy new baby, who—if they were lucky—might sleep two hours at a stretch. The very last thing she needed right now was a big come-on from him. Although it was tempting. Damned tempting.
Gritting his teeth and trying to disengage from the heavy throbbing between his legs, Murphy turned his face into her disheveled hair, a different kind of need welling up inside him. God, but she felt so good, so right in his arms, and he realized just how desperately he wanted her permanently in his life. Except he knew that if he brought it up, she was almost as likely to bolt now as she had last time. That gave him such a knot in his gut that it felt as if his insides were being ripped out.
Jordan stirred and emitted a long sigh, and Murphy tried to disengage from his suddenly sober mood. Rubbing his stubbled jaw against her hair, he smoothed his hand up her arm, knowing he didn’t have much longer before he was going to have to let her go.
He felt her come awake, then go suddenly still, as if she was trying to get her bearings. Then like a diver exploding from the water, she bolted upright, her face frozen in alarm as she looked at the cradle. He gave her enough time to assure herself that Little Stuff was okay, then pulled her back down into his arms, folding her up in a tight embrace before she had a chance to get all flustered about their situation.
“It’s a miracle, Mama,” he said, hoping that she thought his gruff tone was from sleep. “The kid finally took mercy on us. He slept through the night. The whole, entire night. Maybe there is hope after all.”
She was so still that not a single muscle moved. The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement, and he ran his hand up her spine. “It’s okay, Kennedy. Breathe in. Breathe out. That’s what you do when you find out you’re alive.”
He got a little huff of laughter, then she went still again. “Oh, God,” she breathed, a tone of horror in her voice. Ah. She had just figured out why he was very wet.
Murphy chuckled and tightened his hold on her, deciding to give her a hard time. “You know, if you were a dairy cow, you’d be some farmer’s major asset.”
She wasn’t kidding around when she jabbed him hard in the ribs. “That’s not funny, Murphy.”
Still grinning, he caught her hand so she couldn’t give him another kidney shot. “Yeah, it is.”
He could feel her heart pounding and she sounded just a little breathless when she whispered, “I’m sorry I got you all wet.”
Last night’s need came swarming back, making his heart pound and his chest thicken, and Murphy knew he was inches away from doing something really stupid. He wanted her so bad. Sooo bad.
“Murphy?”
The quaver of uncertainty in her voice shut him down like nothing else could, and he pulled away slightly so he could see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice still thick with emotion.
She looked up at him, her eyes so dark with worry they were the color of slate, and he could feel the frantic beat of her pulse where he gripped her wrist. He let go of her and carefully brushed the hair back from her face. “What?” he prompted.
She swallowed hard and looked away, then began fiddling with the button on his damp shirt. “Are you sure it’s a good idea that I go with you to meet your family?”
“Look at me, Jordan,” he commanded, his tone quiet.
He could almost feel her fortifying herself, but she did as he asked. His gaze was steady and level when he spoke. “Yeah, I do think it’s a good idea.” He knew he was playing dusty, but he had to say it anyway. “It’s about family, and I want J.J. to know that. I want us to parent together whenever we can, Jordan. I don’t want to shut you out of the things that I do with him, and I hope you don’t shut me out of the things you do with him.” Needing to touch her skin, he brushed a loose eyelash off her cheek with his thumb, then managed a lopsided smile. “You can’t not be part of the family, Kennedy. My grandma is going to take you under her wing, and that’s going to be that. And if we don’t go over there today, we can sure in hell expect her to show up here tomorrow.”
Sharply aware of how intently she was watching him, Murphy caressed her cheek again, his own gaze turning sober. “I really want you to come, Jordan. I want us to show off our son together.”
As if caught in some kind of trance, she continued to stare at him. Then her breath caught and she closed her eyes, the pulse in her neck very erratic. His own pulse going a little crazy, Murphy knew, as sure as he was lying there, that she had never been more vulnerable than she was right then. Feeling as if an entire cavalry had just been turned loose in his chest, he tried to ignore the demon in his head urging him to go for it. His breathing was getting hot and labored when his conscience finally got into the battle, telling him it wasn’t fair to make a move when her defenses were down, and that if he was a decent man he’d do the honorable thing.
His entire body primed to go, Murphy listened to his conscience. With every nerve in his body on red alert, he tried to quell the ruckus in his chest as he carefully, so very carefully began combing his fingers through her tangled hair. God, he felt as if he were suffocating.
He heard Jordan haul in a jagged breath, then she abruptly turned her face against his neck. Overpowered by raw, driving emotion, Murphy closed his eyes and clasped her head hard against him, his whole body one big pulsing ache. More than anything, he wanted to feel her flush on top of him, and more than anything he wanted to let go. But as much as he wanted to follow through, he knew he’d done the right thing—and maybe, just maybe, he’d gained some critical ground with her. He had to believe that, or he’d go right out of his ever lovin’ mind.
It was J.J., starving and soaked, who put a sharp end to any shreds of hope the little demon inside Murphy’s head might have had.
From there it deteriorated into a personal war against plain old sexual frustration. Deciding he had to do something to keep from climbing out of his skin. Murphy drove over to his house while Jordan was feeding the kid. He had a shower—a very long, cold shower—then picked a huge bouquet of flowers from his out-of-control garden on the way to the truck. Although Murphy noticed it wasn’t as out of control as it had been the last time he’d been there—which meant Baba had been over again. Which probably also meant his fridge and stove were now spotless, and she had refolded all the towels in his linen closet.
Murphy smiled to himself. When he first got his own place years ago, he thought it had come staffed with laundry fairies. His dirty laundry would disappear, only to miraculously reappear—mended, starched, ironed and precisely folded. His married sisters all prayed to the housekeeping gods that he and his two brothers would stay single, because it kept their grandmother so busy looking after them that she didn’t have time to do housekeeping inspections on their houses.
It was just going on ten when Murphy returned to the condo. J.J., strapped in his molded chair, was sitting on the kitchen floor in a patch of sunshine, blowing bubbles and watching his fingers with cross-eyed intensity. Murphy set the flowers in the sink, then crouched down in front of his son, pride swelling up in his chest. Grinning at J.J,, he reached out and pressed his finger against the tiny palm, and J.J. immediately gr
ipped it. “Well, hi, tiger. You were such a big man last night—sleeping so long.” He reached out and straightened the twisted cuff of his son’s sleepers, which were assembled to look like a baseball uniform. “And look at you. All ready for a base hit.”
J.J. turned his head and gave his dad a sloppy smile, and Murphy felt it go right to his chest—as if somebody had pumped his heart up like a balloon. His kid had been smiling for a while, and he was particularly full of them after he had his bath—which Murphy knew was the case now JJ. had that unbelievable scent of a freshly bathed baby. He shook his son’s hand. “So where’s your mother, slugger? Is she having fits this morning?”
He no sooner got the words out than Jordan came whizzing into the kitchen, looking more frazzled than he’d ever seen her. She had on a pair of linen slacks and a cherry-red short-sleeve top that shone like silk. Her hair still wrapped in a towel, she pulled up short when she saw him crouched in front of his son.
He gave her a slow grin. “Looking good, Kennedy.”
She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “Nothing fits. My blouses are too small and these pants are too big and I can’t find the shoes I want. And—” She spotted the flowers in the sink, and it was as if someone had pulled her plug. “Oh.”
Murphy glanced at her, feeling pretty smug that the flowers had stopped her cold. “The flower gardens at the house have kinda gone wild with all this heat. I thought you might like a collection.”
It was odd, how she could go so still, so quiet. With that same stillness, she went to the sink and picked up the bouquet and buried her face in it, inhaling deeply. Then she looked at him, her eyes glowing with appreciation. “They are absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much.” She touched the petals of one of the lilies, then smelled it before getting a vase out of the cupboard. Jordan didn’t just jam a bouquet of flowers in a vase and rearrange them after, like his mother or sisters did. She placed them in, one by one, as if they were very rare and fragile—and extremely precious. It said so much about her that Murphy had to look away.
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