“You’ve got that right.” He grinned. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”
“Just typical parents, Cody.”
The simple words were no more than the truth, yet Cody felt as if he’d just heard something terribly profound spoken for the first time. He was a parent, a certified grown-up, with responsibilities he couldn’t slough off. Responsibilities, in fact, that he actually yearned to accept.
He wanted more Sunday mornings just like this one, waking up to the sound of his daughter making some sort of commotion to get attention, fixing breakfast for all three of them, sitting at the kitchen table across from Melissa. He renewed his vow to himself to do everything within his power to convince Melissa they ought to be a family.
After they’d eaten and after he’d cleaned up most of the scrambled egg Sharon Lynn had managed to rub into her hair or fling halfway across the kitchen, he sat back with a sigh of pure contentment.
“Don’t get too settled,” Melissa warned, a teasing note in her voice. “Your daughter needs a bath. I think I’ll let you do the honors since that egg she’s smeared everywhere was your doing.”
“You sound as if that’s punishment,” he said. “What’s the big deal?”
“You’ll see,” Melissa retorted a little too cheerfully to suit him.
She ran the inch or so of bathwater into the tub, then left him to it. It didn’t take long for Cody to figure out why she’d had that smug expression on her face when she’d exited the bathroom.
Sharon Lynn really loved water. She loved to splash it. She loved to scoop it up by the handful and dribble it all over him. She loved to throw her toys into it, sending yet more splashes into the air.
She wasn’t quite so crazy about soap. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to get away from him. Slippery as an eel, she evaded capture until she’d managed to soak him from head to toe. In fact, he was fairly certain that he was wetter and soapier than she was.
Melissa chose that precise moment to reappear. He heard her chuckling as he tried to towel his daughter dry.
“You find this amusing?” he inquired softly.
“Mmm-hmm,” she admitted. “I sure do.”
He dipped his hand in the scant remaining water that was actually in the tub and splattered it straight in Melissa’s smug face. A startled, incredulous expression spread across her face.
“You brat,” she muttered, turning on the faucet in the sink and scooping up a handful of water to pour over his head.
Sharon Lynn squealed with glee as water splashed everywhere.
Cody nabbed a plastic cup from the counter behind him, dipped it into the bathwater and soaked Melissa’s front. Only after the damp bathrobe clung to her body did he realize the mistake he’d made. His breath snagged in his throat at the sight of her nipples hardening beneath that suddenly transparent silk. He swallowed hard, aware of the tightening in his groin and the flood of color climbing into his cheeks—and equally aware of the impossibility of pursuing the desire rocketing through him.
Melissa’s gaze locked with his for what seemed an eternity, then dropped to the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. A smile slowly tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Serves you right,” she taunted as she turned and padded off to her room.
Cody groaned and wished like crazy that he knew Melissa’s neighbors so he could plead with them to baby-sit for the rest of the morning. He wanted to finish what she had started with that provocative taunt.
Instead he forced himself to concentrate on getting Sharon Lynn dried off and dressed. The task was somewhat complicated by the soaked condition of his own clothes. He was dripping everywhere.
As soon as he had his daughter settled in her playpen, he grabbed a towel, went into the laundry room, stripped, and tossed his clothes into the dryer. He wrapped the towel snugly around his waist and retreated to the kitchen to drink another cup of coffee while he waited for everything to dry.
When Melissa wandered in a few minutes later her mouth gaped. “Where are your clothes?” she demanded, her gaze riveted on his bare chest.
“In the dryer.”
“Get them out.”
“I can’t wear damp clothes,” he observed.
“Whose fault is it they’re wet?”
“Yours, as a matter of fact,” he said blithely. “You’re the one who insisted I bathe Sharon Lynn. You obviously know what she’s like in water.”
She fought a grin and lost. “Yeah, I do,” she admitted. “But, Cody, you cannot sit around in nothing but a towel.”
“You have any better ideas?” He didn’t wait for any suggestions from her before adding, “We could go back to bed.”
“In your dreams.”
He deliberately caught her gaze. “Absolutely,” he said softly. “You have no idea how vivid my dreams have become lately.”
From the fiery blush in her cheeks, he had the feeling, though, that he’d been wrong about that. He got the distinct impression that Melissa’s dreams had been just as erotic as his own lately. He vowed that one day soon they’d compare notes…and make them come true.
Chapter Thirteen
The rapport between them lasted all the way back to White Pines. In fact, Cody had high hopes that he was finally beginning to make progress with Melissa. He was convinced that his presence during the previous night’s medical crisis had started the difficult process of convincing her that he wasn’t going to bolt out of their lives at the first sign of trouble.
It had been such a small thing, being by her side during those tense moments, but he’d heard the gratitude in her voice this morning, seen the first faint flicker of renewed faith in her eyes. He couldn’t allow anything to shake that trust again, not until he’d had time to strengthen it.
As they drove up the long, winding lane at White Pines he was startled to see his father emerge from the house.
