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“Good advice,” Liz said, a subtle note of surprise in her voice. “But when you add a demanding new baby to the dynamic, whose needs take precedence? How do you deal with that? What about taking the child into bed?”
Joe watched the majority of women nod questioningly. Now he knew that Liz was putting him on the spot, deliberately testing him. He couldn’t blame her. This was her “baby,” her territory, her sphere of expertise. And he was a fish out of water. However, he’d always been a good test-taker. And he didn’t turn his back on a challenge. He had something to prove to Nurse Ratchett. Thinking back, he tried to remember what Rosie had said when her daughter was an infant.
He cleared his throat. “At bedtime start the baby out in his or her own bed. If they wake up during the night and it doesn’t look good for getting them to sleep easily, then you have to make a decision about whether or not to take them in with you.”
A general murmur went up as the women commented to each other. Since they were nodding their heads and smiling, Joe figured he’d done good.
Another woman raised her hand. “Mr. Marchetti, I like bringing the baby in bed with us. I want to know that he’s all right and to strengthen the family bonds. My husband doesn’t mind. But lately he’s been wondering when, you know, he and I can…well, you know,” she finished with a shrug and shy smile.
Keep it light, he told himself. Don’t let on that you’d rather be shooting hoops or pumping iron. Anything but advising new mothers about “you know.” “I guess you’re referring to what my mother calls ‘the wild thing.”’ They all laughed, easing the mood. “When the baby goes to sleep and the two of you are alone opportunity knocks. Answer the door,” he said simply.
“What if you have other children?” someone asked.
“If you’re lucky enough to have grandparents to take over, ask them for help and go to the cabin in the mountains like my folks did. If you don’t have that support, try to find a routine that puts the kids in bed early so that you and your husband have time for each other.”
Just then, Barbara’s baby, who had finished eating, began to wail. She stood and rocked him from side to side. “It’s not easy to find a routine. Every time we do, the master,” she said glancing at the unhappy infant, “changes the rules.”
“Mind if I try?” he asked. After fielding the questions he just had, he figured he’d take his chances with the little guy.
“Are you kidding?” Barbara answered. “Be my guest.” She held out the child.
Joe walked over to her and took Tommy from her arms. It had been a while since his niece had been this small. At first he felt awkward, holding the warm body in the bend of his elbow. The little fella’s face scrunched into an unhappy look as he started to whimper. Uneasily, Joe raised the infant up onto his shoulder. No dice.
The cry increased in intensity. It was almost as if the child knew he was in unfamiliar arms. Joe didn’t know what else to do but rock those arms—already feeling the burn—back and forth. Nada. The cry escalated into a full-blown scream.
“Just talk amongst yourselves,” he said above the crying. “Tommy and I will take a stroll around the room. If that’s okay with you,” he said to the baby’s mother.
She nodded. “It’s you I’m worried about. He can keep this up for hours. How long can you hold out?”
“I’m tough,” he said with more confidence than he felt.
He started walking around the room. The baby’s ear-splitting wail slowed, but he still wouldn’t quiet. Joe stopped and instead of moving him from side to side, he commenced an up and down motion. Almost instantly the baby stopped crying. Every head in the room turned to look at him. When the quiet continued, jaws began to lower. Including Liz who stared at him as if he had two heads.
“I don’t believe it,” his mother said.
Neither do I, Joe wanted to chime in, but knew that would undermine his accomplishment. He wished he could take credit for the technique. But it was something he’d learned on his niece. He was glad he’d remembered. He hoped this was the final exam, the last test to show Liz that he had what it took to be in her program.
It was something he wanted to do. On top of that, as the Human Resources Director for Marchetti’s, Inc., he was conducting his own unofficial research to see if on-site child care was feasible. He was always searching for forward-looking ideas to benefit the employees.
“I’m impressed, Joe,” Liz said.
Was there a grudging note of respect mixed with the sincerity in her voice? He hoped so.
“Thank you,” he answered, handing a dozing Tommy back to his mother.
Another baby started to fuss. Joe remembered it was the baby with the shallow latch. Valerie. Her mother, Andie, looked at him pleadingly. “Want to go for two?” she asked hopefully.
“Sure.” He took the infant and tried the same technique. In a few minutes, the fussy child had calmed.
For the rest of the evening, he became the resident nanny. It gave the mothers an opportunity to listen without interruption to the group. It gave him a chance to prove something to Liz Anderson. He didn’t know why that was so important to him, he only knew it was.
When time was up, the mothers all filed out and he thought their spirits were lighter than when the evening had started. Their radiant smiles as they walked past him were a big clue. So this is what a women’s support group was all about, he thought. Their husbands must be grateful. He was looking forward to learning more about the program. Not to mention the intriguing and exceptionally cute Nurse Anderson.
Andie looked up at him. “Do you hire out your services?” she asked wistfully.
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Are you going to be here next week?” Barbara asked.
“I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Your social calendar?” someone asked.
“And business,” he added.
Barbara smiled at him. “You would make a wonderful father, Joe. I can’t believe no woman has snapped you up.”
He shrugged as he looked at the group of new mothers. “All of you are already taken.”
Then he was alone with Liz. She was looking at him strangely. “That was an interesting experience.”
“Interesting good, or bad?” he asked crossing one ankle over the other as he leaned back against one of the gray plastic chairs.
“I’d have to say good,” she answered slowly.
“You don’t sound convinced. I think it was clear that they love me,” he said.
“Those women are so tired they would love Godzilla if he could give them a minute-and-a-half of peace and quiet.”
“Are you comparing me to the giant lizard who ate Tokyo?”
“If the shoe fits.” She laughed. “I’m kidding. There’s no question that you were wonderful tonight. A real hero.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Before she got a chance to cancel out her compliment with a zinger, his cell phone rang. He flipped it open and said, “Hello?”
“Joe? It’s Abby.”
“Oh, geez. Abby. We had a date, didn’t we?” He smacked his forehead. He’d agreed to meet her and help her pick out a wedding present for her fiancé, his brother Nick. “I’m about ten minutes away. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sorry, Ab. I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He flipped the phone closed and met Liz’s gaze. “That was my sister—”
She held up her hand. “Please don’t insult my intelligence by saying that whoever called was your sister. I can’t believe you forgot your date.”
“It’s not a date. It’s just Abby.”
“I can’t believe you have so little respect for her.” She shook her head. “And it is a date. By definition a date is a particular time to meet someone, usually of the opposite sex.”
He nodded. “All of that is true. But Abby is practically my sister.”
“Come on, Joe. This is me. I’ve already got your number. You don’t have to pretend. It won’t impress me. I’m immune.”
“I’m not trying to impress you. It’s the truth. I’m supposed to shop with Abby for—”
“Don’t. What you do on your own time is your business. The volunteer program is mine.” She headed for the door. “If you fulfill that obligation, I’ll be impressed.”
“Liz?”
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “What?”
He saluted. “I will be here bright and early for orientation. I’ll be the best darn cuddler you ever had.”
Chapter Two
Joe held up the tiny disposable diaper and turned it over and over, eyeing it from every angle. He slid Liz a look that was part mischief, part puzzled—and one hundred percent appealing. Her heart did a little skip and she tried hard to work up a good annoyance at him for causing it. She even resurrected her feelings from the other night when he’d tried to pass off the girl on the phone as his sister. She was only marginally successful in blunting the force of her attraction.
“Even a bag of microwave popcorn has directions that say ‘this side up,”’ he said. “How come there’s no arrow for top and bottom on this sucker?”
“A bright guy like yourself can figure it out. This is the end of orientation, the final exam. No cheating.”
Liz was alone with him in the newborn nursery. He was the only trainee volunteer, darn the luck. It would have helped if other trainee volunteers were there to take the edge off the one-on-one orientation.
Liz stood beside him, next to the changing table. In front of him was a battered rag doll for practicing. She wished she could say that the green wraparound lab coat Joe wore diminished his appeal, or blurred his heartthrob image. But no such luck.
He shook his head. “You never said anything about changing diapers when you were trying to discourage me from volunteering. The term ‘cuddling’ seems self-explanatory and does not encompass this.”
“Backing out already, Mr. Marchetti?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I never said I wanted you to quit.”
“Not in so many words,” he shot back. “But my work experience is with people. I’ve learned to read between the lines, decipher the body language. All the tricks of the trade.”
“That’s something we have in common then. I’ve got some people experience myself. And in mine, nine times out of ten, they’ll let you down.”
“Then I’ll just have to show you I’m a ten,” he said, giving her a boyishly mischievous look.
“Everyone needs a challenge. Mine is to make sure you can handle our little bundles of joy. The key word here is joy. You have to trust me on this. Cuddling is a more satisfying experience for everyone involved if the baby is clean and dry.”
He frowned at the diaper in his hand. “Then show me the blueprint for this.”
She grinned. “Sell it somewhere else. I might buy your performance if I hadn’t seen Act One the other night. You know more about this baby stuff than you’re letting on. The question is why you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”
Call her a reverse chauvinist, but she found it hard to believe that a man would volunteer to cuddle babies. Not only that, he’d shown up ten minutes ahead of schedule for his orientation. Since a part of her had expected him to let her down, she was still a little off-kilter from his early arrival.
As hard as it was to admit, Joe Marchetti was too good-looking, too charming, and too likable. She would have to be made of stone to keep from having feelings, more accurately a small, almost infinitesimal crush on the man. Her antidote—she would see his appeal and raise him a healthy dose of apathy. That meant she could neutralize the Marchetti toxin before it had a chance to work on her. She would bet her favorite stethoscope that he wasn’t used to women ignoring him. But ignore him she must.
She didn’t believe in happily ever after with any man, let alone a proven playboy like Mr. Marchetti. Her own father had been one. She would be a fool to fall for Joe’s shtick and get dumped, or go through years of misery like her mother had. Either way her heart would come out the loser.
“Pull the wool over your eyes?” He gave her a bogus look of smarting dignity. “I’m wounded, Liz. My incentive for being here is completely aboveboard. One would think that you think I have an ulterior motive.”
“Let’s just say I’m skeptical.” She smiled sweetly at him.
“Want to tell me why?”
She shook her head. “I want to wait and see.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“After all, you signed the volunteer contract. Item one—a commitment to actively participate in the Volunteer Program, for no less than three months, three hours per week.” She smiled and rubbed her hands together. “That means I have you, my pretty, for the next three months—no matter what.”
“Define ‘no matter what.”’
“Never you mind. Just do me proud. The life of the Cuddlers Program may be in the balance.”
“You got it.” Then he looked at the diaper again, and the doll used for training. “But if you ever tell anyone that I was playing with dolls, that contract won’t be worth the paper I signed it on.”
“Deal,” she said. She looked around the nursery. Empty isolettes were parked haphazardly against the wall. “It’s a slow day in here, or I would let you show off your skill with the babies.”
“You would trust me?” he asked, phony humility in his voice.
“Now you’re fishing for compliments. Like I said, the way you handled the support group babies the other night convinced me you already have a certain amount of expertise. But remember, those babies were a few weeks old. You’re going to be handling little ones a couple of hours old. There’s a difference.”
“Piece of cake. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget.”
“You wouldn’t want to share how you acquired the knowledge in the first place, would you?”
“You already know I’m an uncle.”
She nodded. “But that doesn’t qualify you for nanny of the year. I know a lot of men who want nothing to do with babies, let alone children.” My father included, she thought before she could stop it.
“My sister Rosie strong-armed me into babysitting.”
Liz glanced from the top of his head to his worn jeans below the hem of his lab coat, then to the tips of his scuffed loafers. He was tall and had a muscle or two tacked on to that rather attractive frame. He was no lightweight. She remembered Rosie Marchetti Schafer. Joe’s little sister wasn’t strong enough to force him to do anything he didn’t want to. If his acquired knowledge came from babysitting his niece, it was definitely because he wanted to.
“How is your sister?” Liz asked, genuinely interested. She remembered the pretty, dark-haired woman and her hunky husband. They were hard to forget, let alone jettison the surprising envy Liz had felt watching a loving couple like Steve and Rosie Schafer.
“Fine.”
Liz put a hand on her hip and shook her head at him. “I can see you didn’t inherit the gift of gab.”
“What?”
“Fine?” she mocked. “No embellishment? That’s all you have to say?”
He stared at her for a moment, then proceeded to expertly diaper the doll without blueprints, arrows, or visual aids of any kind.
Task accomplished, he gave her his full attention. “Okay. I’ll embellish. Stephanie, my niece, is beautiful, healthy and in the process of being spoiled rotten by her doting uncles and grandparents. My sister and her husband are ecstatically happy. They love being parents. They could be the poster couple for the American family.”
For just a moment, Liz thought she noticed a wistful look in his eyes when he mentioned family. Then it was gone and she figured she must have imagined it. Easy to do considering where she worked.
Every day she saw moms and dads bring new babies into the world. Some of them had other children who came to visit and welcome a new brother or sister into the family. She recalled that Joe had several brothers. The Marchettis seemed to be a large and loving clan. That didn’t necessarily mean the sons were one-woman men. If nothing else, his looks made him a babe magnet. The attention he must get from women would be hard to ignore.
Not for a minute did she believe his spin from the other night. She would give anything to be able to dump her skepticism. But her childhood had been a front row seat in watching how imperfect marriage was. His parents may have stayed together for thirty-five years, but she would bet they weren’t happy about it. He was just doing what playboys did. Charm a roomful of women with what he thought they wanted to hear.
She wanted to accept that he had volunteered for the reasons he’d told her the other night. But the doubting Thomas in her believed that women were nurturers who derived pleasure from holding a baby. A man who was there ostensibly for that reason had to have an ulterior motive. Either he planned to milk the experience for publicity for the family restaurant chain, or he was there to meet women. Whatever his motivation, she would do what was necessary to protect the program.
“Anything else you want to know about Rosie?” he asked.
“No. I think you’ve embellished sufficiently,” she said sweetly.
“Good. Have you covered everything? About my orientation?”
She nodded. “Except which shift you want.”
Just then, the nursery door opened. Samantha Taylor walked in. She was an obstetrics nurse, and a tall redhead.
“Hi, Sam,” Liz said.
“Hey, boss.” She glanced at Joe as if she were trying to place him, then back to Liz. “What are you doing here?”
“This is Joe Marchetti,” Liz said as if that answered the question.
“Hi.” Sam held out her hand. “You look familiar.”
“We met about a year ago,” he said shaking her hand. “My sister had her baby here.”
“Yes,” Sam said nodding. “Now I remember. We talked that night. I told you about the cuddlers program.”
“That’s right,” he said, smiling that charming, orthodontia-ad smile of his.
Liz wouldn’t be surprised if she’d just come face to face with the Marchetti motivation. But had Sam heard about how badly he’d used one of the other nurses? Liz wondered if she should warn her friend that he was the love ’em and leave ’em type. She couldn’t blame Joe for wanting to get to know Sam better. Although signing up for the cuddlers program seemed a little extreme. Because pretty much all he had to do was stand there to make an impression on a woman.
Correction, Liz told herself, any woman but her.
Was it possible that she was wrong about him? Joining the cuddlers seemed like an awful lot of trouble to go through to meet a woman.
She smiled at Sam. “It seems your pitch made a profound impression on Mr. Marchetti. He’s decided to be a cuddler. I’m orienting him to the nursery.”
“Ah, that explains what you’re doing here on your day off,” the other woman said. “I refuse to waste my breath reminding you what the word delegate means. Or explaining the downside of employee burnout. I just came to get some money out of my purse for lunch.”
Joe looked at his watch. “Is it that time already?”
Sam laughed. “I don’t need a clock. My growling stomach say it’s time to take a trip to the cafeteria.”
“Now that you mention it, I’m hungry too,” he said.
Liz had to give him credit. He’d just given himself the perfect playboy lead-in to join Sam for lunch and cast his line, work his magic, lay the groundwork for his conquest. Sam was a big girl. She could handle him. They would actually make a very attractive couple. Part of her rebelled at that thought. The other part was glad that he would show his true colors and be out of there before anyone learned to depend on him.
“Good,” Liz said. “Sam can give you an impromptu tour of the hospital on the way.”
“On the way where?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“To the cafeteria.”
“You in a hurry to get rid of me?” One dark eyebrow rose questioningly.
Sam cleared her throat. “If she’s not, she should be.”
Joe looked at her a moment, then chuckled. “I’m going to assume you didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“I didn’t.” She looked sheepish. “What I meant was that this woman spends too much time here—six days a week on average. Last I heard she wasn’t supposed to come in today.”
“A workaholic dedicated to showing one volunteer the ropes,” Joe said, shaking his head. “This is all my fault.”
“No. There’s always something,” Liz said. “So I’ll leave you two to the rest of the tour—” She gasped when Joe took her elbow and headed her toward the door.
He looked over his shoulder and said to a grinning Sam, “Nice to meet you. Don’t let me keep you from your lunch. I’m sure I can find out where you hide the cafeteria another time. After ruining her day off, I owe this lady some R and R. Bye.”
Thirty minutes after leaving the Encino hospital Joe parked his convertible in a beach lot overlooking the Pacific Ocean. There were picnic tables scattered in the sand nearby. He half turned to look at Liz. Her hair curled charmingly around her small face. A becoming pink colored her cheeks. Sunglasses hid the keen intelligence in her eyes. But what really drew his attention was her smile. A rare phenomenon he was beginning to realize. And that was a shame. Because it was very attractive and incredibly appealing.
He was only slightly miffed that driving with the top down had produced the occurrence and not his own witty repartee. No matter. He planned to bring it out more frequently. Everyone needed a challenge. Even a confirmed bachelor like himself.
“This is the spot I was telling you about,” he said.
She sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I drove to the beach.”
He grabbed the brown bag with the sandwiches he’d bought at a stand on Pacific Coast Highway and got out of the car. Rounding it, he opened the passenger door and took the cardboard container of drinks that Liz had been holding on her lap.
“Let’s sit on one of those benches over there,” he said pointing. “Great scenery.”
She nodded and slid out. They walked to the picnic table and she clambered over the bench, settling herself to face the ocean. Joe never missed a chance at that view. This time it was a perfect excuse to sit beside her, his arm brushing her shoulder. She shivered slightly, then shifted a bit to the side.
“You cold?” he asked.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Not after Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride in that car with the top down. And I meant that in a good way.”
“Which part? The wild ride? Or Mr. Toad?” he asked wryly.
“Let me just say, nice car. Really, really nice,” she finished, glancing over her shoulder to look at it with an exaggerated sigh.
Joe loved his sporty red convertible. But he couldn’t tell whether she really meant what she’d said, or if there was subtle criticism in her voice.
“I like it,” he said cautiously.
She peeked over her shoulder again. “No back seat. That’s good news and bad.”
“How’s that?” he asked. He liked the fact that Liz kept him on his toes, always wondering what she would say. What zinger would she lob his way? And how would he defend himself?
“Well, the good news is that car is a babe magnet.”
“If one were looking to attract ‘babes.”’
She studied him. “Isn’t that what playboys do?”
There was the zinger. And he suspected his best defense was offhandedness. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Well if you didn’t write the whole thing, I’d bet you contributed at least a chapter to the how-to book for bachelors on the make.”
On the make? Defending himself for something he’d done was one thing. But she had him all wrong. For some reason he didn’t have a clue about, she’d pegged him in a negative light from the day he’d walked into her office. It was time to find out what had tied her stethoscope in a knot.
“And why would you think that?” he asked.
“You fit the profile.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re good-looking, smart, and you have a great job.”
“Thank you.”
“Observation, not compliment.” She sipped her soda. “Those attributes are a triple whammy. Women must swarm all over you.”