“I wouldn’t think a man like you would be interested in cuddling,”

Liz told Joe.

“Define ‘a man like you.’”

“An upwardly mobile businessman, single and—” She hesitated.

“And?” he prompted, one dark, well-formed eyebrow lifting with the question.

She’d been about to say “attractive,” but didn’t dare. “And busy.”

“That’s all true. Although I’d like to know how you knew I was single.”

The flirtatious manner was a big clue, although why she couldn’t say. Another lesson from her past experience was that flirting wasn’t exclusive to single men. Married ones could philander at the drop of a hat or the swish of a skirt, too.

“It was just a hunch…until now.”

With a Little T.L.C.
Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Andrea Pascale—your encouragement, support, friendship and love mean more than I can say. My gratitude for sharing your little Valerie with her “outlaw” cousin. The refresher course in baby stuff added so much to this book. Many thanks.

TERESA SOUTHWICK

is a native Californian who has recently moved to Texas. Living with her husband of twenty-five years and two handsome sons, she is surrounded by heroes. Reading has been her passion since she was a girl. She couldn’t be more delighted that her dream of writing full-time has come true. Her favorite things include: holding a baby, the fragrance of jasmine, walks on the beach, the patter of rain on the roof and, above all—happy endings.

Teresa also writes historical romance novels under the same name.

Dear Reader,

If there’s a woman anywhere who can resist the sight of a hunky guy holding an infant, I’ll eat my computer. On second thought, I’ll make her a heroine with enough baggage to tour the continental United States. In fact, I did just that in With a Little T.L.C.

I’ve always loved babies. Even after raising my two sons, the baby bug isn’t out of my system. For a long time now, I’ve wanted to be a volunteer in a newborn nursery. Few things come to mind that are as rewarding as listening to the sounds of a baby as you hold that small, warm body close. Even better is knowing that something so simple can make an important impact on a new life. Studies have been done documenting the critical role of touch in a newborn’s ability to thrive. Unfortunately, I never seem to have enough time to indulge my purely selfish need to cuddle babies.

But I’m a writer. I can send my heroine where I don’t have time to go. Or, better yet, my hero. The challenge was irresistible. We take it for granted that women are nurturers. But why would a man, especially a goodlooking bachelor like Joe Marchetti, spend time holding babies? Remember that heroine with all the baggage? Nurse Liz Anderson can’t help being cynical about her newest volunteer cuddler. Is he just a guy with a scheme to meet women? Or is he really as incredibly wonderful as he seems?

The only thing more rewarding than holding a baby is writing about someone else who holds them. It was fun discovering right along with Joe and Liz that even the most cynical heart can be healed With a Little T.L.C.

Enjoy!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

“You want to be a cuddler?”

Nurse Liz Anderson stared at the gentleman on the other side of her desk. And she did it without gawking, she thought proudly. Not easy when the man gave new meaning to the phrase tall, dark and handsome. Six feet if he was an inch. Brown almost black eyes full of intensity, charm, and humor in equal parts. And so handsome she was grateful that her voice had worked to form the words into a question.

“You sound shocked,” he said.

“That’s because I am.”

He folded his arms over a mighty impressive chest. Almost a year ago she had dragged him out of his sister’s hospital room by his ear because he balked at leaving when visiting hours were over. Considering that impressive chest, how in the world had she managed to do that?

“Why should my intentions surprise you?”

Those words spoken in that deep voice mobilized tingles that skittered down her neck and across her shoulders.

“It’s not every day that I get that kind of offer from a man.”

“It’s their loss.”

A flirt, she thought warily. She’d run into the type before and knew enough to steer clear. “I take cuddling very seriously, Mr. Marchetti.”

“You remember me,” he said, rubbing his ear. “I wondered if you did.”

He grinned, a pleased expression that showed off a masterful job of orthodontia or sensational genes. She wasn’t sure which. But any second she expected a diamondlike sparkle from his teeth, a movie hero come to life. In any case, she thanked her lucky stars that she was already sitting. It wouldn’t take much to knock her on her keister.

“You’re pretty unforgettable,” she muttered softly.

“Am I?” he answered, his smile growing wider.

She hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Apparently all his flaws were in character because his hearing was pretty darn good.

Instead of lowering his hunky frame into one of the two chairs provided for visitors, he sat on the corner of her desk. Proving to her, as if she needed more proof after their one and only meeting, that he was a rule-breaker.

Now he sat a few scant inches from her. His tie was loose and the top button of his white dress shirt undone, allowing a couple of chest hairs to peek out. He’d rolled up his long sleeves revealing strong, tanned forearms. The gray fabric of his slacks pulled tight across his muscular thighs. His cologne added the deathblow to her composure. The wonderful masculine scent surrounded her, adding stomach flutters to her shoulder tingles.

On top of that, she could see the sexy five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and jaw. She glanced at the clock on her desk—6:30 p.m. Wasn’t it past time for him to go home and shave?

Realizing she’d been staring, Liz resisted the urge to shake her head and clear it. No point in giving a man like him more fuel for his over-inflated ego. She knew he’d asked her a question. Now if only she could remember what he’d said, she would answer appropriately.

As if he could read her mind, he asked, “What else do you remember about me?”

That he’d charmed her by teasingly threatening to lock her in the broom closet when she’d told him visiting hours were over. That he had dated one of the nurses and dumped her in a nasty, hurtful way. Liz didn’t especially like the woman but no one deserved to find the man they were involved with in bed with another woman.

“I remember that you left here with a beautiful blonde,” she said.

He frowned for a moment as if he was trying to recall. Then he nodded. “My secretary. She’d left her husband in the car. They’d brought a gift for my sister’s baby.”

Liz didn’t really care what kind of relationship he had with the woman. That was his business. She had a program to run. “Now let me ask you a question.”

“All right.”

“Are you really here to be a cuddler?”

“Yes.” He pointed to the completed, orange volunteer form he’d handed her when he walked into her office. “It says so right there.”

“Holding the babies?” she confirmed.

He nodded. “That’s my intention.”

“I just wanted to make sure we were talking about the same thing.”

Because it was tough to believe he would be interested in spending time with infants. The last time she’d seen him in the hospital he’d hit on one of the nurses, dated then dumped her. Ninety-nine percent of her cuddlers were nurturing women who loved holding babies. The other one percent were retired men looking for something to fill their time. Then in walks Joe Marchetti, a proven playboy and flirt. What was she supposed to think when he plunked his volunteer paperwork down on her desk?

“Do you know what’s involved, Mr. Marchetti?”

“Joe, Miss…”

“I beg your pardon?”

He looked at the gold, upright name plate resting on her desk. “Liz,” he said, then met her gaze. “Call me Joe.”

With every ounce of willpower, fortitude and any other character attributes she possessed, she resisted the power of the charming look he leveled at her. “All right, Joe,” she said with more calm than she felt. “I’ll ask you again. Do you know what’s involved?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She leaned back in her chair, a move designed to look casual, professional, and in control. The first two weren’t a problem. The last was tougher to pull off. “I wouldn’t think a man like you would be interested.”

“Define ‘a man like you.”’

“An upwardly mobile businessman, single and—” She hesitated.

“And?” he prompted, one dark, well-formed eyebrow lifting with the question.

She’d been about to say attractive. “And busy.”

“That’s all true. Although I’d like to know how you knew I was single.”

The flirtatious manner was a big clue, although why she couldn’t say. Another lesson from her past experience was that flirting wasn’t exclusive to single men. Married ones could philander at the drop of a hat or the swish of a skirt too.

But she merely answered, “You’re not wearing a wedding band.” Then she held up his filled-out volunteer form. “And it says so here.”

He glanced at the sheet of paper and then his hand. She followed his gaze and didn’t miss the fact that his fingers were long and there was a great deal of harnessed strength in his hand and wrist.

“I’m getting the impression that you doubt my sincerity. How can you judge me based on one meeting?”

“When your sister was a patient here,” she clarified.

“After my niece was born,” he added, rubbing his ear again.

She grinned, remembering the incident. “You were breaking the rules. Visiting hours were over.”

“A simple ‘please leave’ would have sufficed,” he said, feigning indignation. “You didn’t have to yank my ear off.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Aren’t we being a tad melodramatic?”

“Marchettis never do anything halfway. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Why would I need a warning?”

“Because you’re the nurse in charge of the cuddlers and I’m signing up to volunteer. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.”

“Look, Joe. This program isn’t fluff and feathers. Children need the best possible start in this cold, cruel world. Statistics prove that babies stimulated by touch gain weight faster.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“They cry less, have more even temperaments, sleep better and are more likely to calm and console themselves without intervention.”

“I understand.”

“People who aren’t touched much as children don’t touch much as adults and the cycle continues. The volunteers work with babies from at-risk families. This program is designed to break that cycle.”

“Hey, I’m a sure thing. I’m here to do my bit. You don’t have to convince me.”

“No. But we have to count on you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let me ask you something first,” she said.

“Okay. I’m all ears,” he said, rubbing the one she’d yanked.

Liz swallowed the smile that hovered, refusing to let his clever pun distract her. “Why do you want to be a cuddler?”

He looked thoughtful, as if remembering something. “After my niece was born and you bounced me out of my sister’s room, I wandered by the newborn nursery. It was just before they shut the curtains and your staff left them open a little longer for me.”

Considering his movie star good looks, Liz couldn’t blame them.

“I watched the volunteers holding the babies,” he continued. “And I talked to one of the nurses on duty that night who explained everything you just said. I was impressed,” he finished.

When he mentioned the nurse, Liz’s interest piqued. That was it. He was on the make and figured a hospital was a good place to meet women. She’d been burned like that before. What other reason could a guy like him have for being here?

“But if I remember rightly, your sister had her baby almost a year ago. As the saying goes, what took you so long?”

He shrugged. “Time got away from me.”

“So why now?”

A shadow crossed his face as he remembered. “My secretary gave birth recently, a very small baby. It turned out that she was a failure-to-thrive infant.”

“That’s rough,” Liz said, sincerely sympathetic. “What happened?”

“She’s doing okay now, but they came too close to losing her. It took extra attention and stimulation. Not to mention that I lost the best secretary I’ve ever had.”

“Really?”

“She quit because she didn’t have family to leave the child with and didn’t trust anyone else. I admire her commitment because they’ll have it tough financially. Anyway, the point is that after the birth, and during the extra time in the hospital, she couldn’t hold the baby twenty-four hours a day. The cuddlers filled in and made a difference. I decided there was no time like the present to do something worthwhile.”

“I’m glad the baby is doing well,” Liz said. “But think about this. We integrate our volunteers into the schedule. The nurses count on them to pick up the slack when it gets busy. You’ve seen firsthand how important it is that they show up.”

He frowned. “And your point is?”

“You’re a single guy with a busy social calendar.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because you look like—” She stopped. What was this need she had to keep tossing him crumbs that would swell his head to the point where finding a hat to fit would be impossible?

“Never mind,” she said. “Picture this scenario—you meet someone and you’d like to take her out on the spur of the moment. But you’re scheduled to be here with the babies.” She held one hand out. “Here we have Miss Nubile.” She held out her other hand. “And here we have Miss Crankypants Infant screaming her head off. Which female do you think you’d pick?”

He scratched his chin. “Tough choice. Is Miss Nubile a blond or a brunette?”

“Which are you more partial to?”

“Tall redheads.”

With an involuntary flash of disappointment, Liz figured a short brunette like herself was safe from him. “Okay, let’s make Miss Nubile a tall, titian-haired temptress.”

“Okay, let’s.”

“I knew you were impossible the first time we met.”

“Thank you very much,” he said brightly.

She sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. “My point is that when you don’t show up because you and Miss Nubile are tripping the light fantastic somewhere, it’s the babies who lose out. The role of touch is critical in child development. We need people we can count on for this program.”

“You’re prejudging me.”

“Not you specifically, but men in general—”

“So this third degree has to do with the fact that I’m a man.”

More than you could possibly imagine, she thought. But she only said, “Our average volunteer is female.”

“Aren’t there laws against gender discrimination?”

“Not discrimination. A screening process to protect the babies.”

“I would never hurt them.”

“I’m not suggesting you would deliberately harm them, but neglect—”

He stood suddenly and his agreeable, flirtatious facade disappeared. “I don’t neglect children, Liz. I firmly believe that they are our most precious natural resource.”

Funny, she thought. She liked his anger more than his charm. She believed it. She stood too. “That’s something we see eye-to-eye on.”

“By definition I thought you had to take anyone who shows up.”

“True. But I won’t approve any volunteer who might reflect badly on the program. It’s not firmly established yet.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “It’s just about a year old. We’re coming up for review soon. Some members of the hospital Board of Directors feel the volunteers could be better used elsewhere. I don’t want to give them any ammunition to cancel the cuddlers. I have to insist on high standards.”

He looked down at her, way down. “Spell it out.”

“Reliability is a must. And a minimum commitment of one three hour shift a week. We require you to work four weeks in the newborn nursery before going to the Neonatal Intensive Care.” She shrugged. “Those are the rules.”

“You’ve got yourself a new recruit. When is the orientation?”

“Saturday. Ten a.m. Sharp.” She glanced at his paperwork, making sure he’d filled it out completely. “Tardiness isn’t an excuse.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Read and sign the back of this please,” she said, sliding the paper across her desk.

He picked it up and scanned the words. Liz knew it was an agreement to adhere to all hospital rules of safety and confidentiality. It also said a volunteer could be terminated from the program for any reason deemed sufficient by the Director of Volunteers. She didn’t suppose Essie Martinez would consider booting Joe Marchetti before he started because he was too good-looking.

“May I borrow your pen?” he asked.

Hoping she wasn’t making a big mistake, she handed him one and he signed the form. “So we’ll see you bright and early Saturday morning?” she asked.

“I’ll be here.”

She gathered a file from her desk and started for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Where are you off to in such a hurry? Hot date?” he asked, preceding her out the door.

“Sort of. I moderate a new mothers’ support group on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.” She thought of something as she locked her office. “Sooner or later all the cuddlers are required to attend. I think it gives the program some continuity. Maybe you would like to join us now? Unless you have somewhere to go?”

“No, now is fine,” he said without hesitation.

Good, she thought, wondering if this would scare him off. It was never too early to separate the men from the boys, test his mettle. If he was going to chicken out, better sooner than later.

Joe sat in a gray plastic chair at a long table in the front of classroom 2 and watched Liz. Wearing navy slacks and a matching blazer with a bright yellow sweater underneath, she looked stylish and professional as she stood at the door greeting everyone. Women filed in, most of them carrying infants, all of them looking tired.

He studied Ms. Liz Anderson. She was a little thing, which had wounded his male pride when she’d yanked him out of Rosie’s room by his ear. But it was that moxie that had gotten his attention. She was attractive, but not one of those women who gave men whiplash when she walked down the street. Her hair, an ordinary shade of brown, was cut pixie short. Which suited her. Big hazel eyes dominated her small face. If he had to choose a word to describe her it would be cute.

The next one that popped into his mind was wary.

With him a few moments before, she’d been pleasant enough, but he’d bet all of his profit shares in Marchetti’s, Inc. that she didn’t want him in her cuddlers program. She expected him to welsh on his promise. His gut told him there was more to it than that. Which made him wonder why she’d asked him to sit in on the parent’s support group.

He noticed that her manner with the new mothers was warm and pleasant. Everyone got a hug. And when she looked at the babies, her face grew soft, with a glowing tenderness that made her beautiful. He wondered if she had children of her own. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring—he’d made it a point to look. But that didn’t necessarily mean she was attached—or unattached.

“I guess we should start,” Liz said, walking to the front of the room.

Several new mothers holding their babies sat around the long table, blankets, diapers and bags placed haphazardly on chairs in between them. They watched Liz as she made her way to the lectern with the chalkboard behind it. Joe sat in the chair closest to her.

She met his gaze. “We have a guest tonight. Ladies, this is Joe Marchetti. He’s interested in joining the cuddlers program here at the hospital.”

He nodded to the women settling themselves. Some were discreetly nursing their infants. Some were standing, rocking from side to side. The lucky ones sat with sleeping babies in their arms. “Hi,” he said. He’d never understood the expression “fish out of water” better than he did at this moment.

Liz cleared her throat. “We’ll leave the door open. There are always stragglers. You all know that with a new baby there’s no guarantee of getting anywhere on time.”

He leaned over to her and whispered, “Would any of those stragglers happen to be fathers?”

“This is a new mothers’ support group.” Liz shrugged.

“Ah,” he answered. “I guess I just assumed some dads would come along.”

“Sometimes they do,” she said. “And they’re always welcome. But in most cases, women are the primary caretakers, and the one whose life is most impacted with the responsibility of caring for and feeding the infant. Which reminds me. Andie, how are you doing with nursing Valerie this week? Is it going any better?”

“I think so.” A dark-haired woman on the other side of the table spoke up. She had circles under her eyes, and a denim shirt that looked as if it had spent several weeks at the bottom of the ironing basket. “I called some of the people you suggested, Liz. I think Val has a shallow latch and as long as I make sure she’s secure, I’m not as sore.”

Joe concentrated on sitting still and looking impassive. All of this was the most natural thing in the world. His sister had nursed in front of him without embarrassment. There was no reason to be uncomfortable.

“Good.” Liz nodded at the woman with satisfaction. “Anyone have any questions, problems they’d like to bring up for discussion?”

A blonde raised her hand. She was discreetly nursing her baby with a light blanket thrown over her shoulder. “What is it, Barbara?” Liz asked.

“My husband is concerned about bringing Tommy into bed with us,” Barbara started, with a quick loving glance at the child in her arms. “I explained that when he wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s easier if I can doze while he nurses. I get more sleep that way. But he, my husband,” she clarified, “is afraid that it’ll start a habit and the baby will go off to college before we get any privacy. If you know what I mean,” she finished.

Joe felt everyone in the room look at him, including Liz. They were waiting for a reaction. So, this was a test. He decided he could act one of two ways. Embarrassed at such intimate discussion, or treat it as the earthy part of life it was. The woman who’d initiated the question had done it of her own free will. She wasn’t put off by his presence. Why should he be uncomfortable?

“A child’s needs versus intimacy is a dilemma that a lot of couples face,” Liz said. “Since we have a guest of the male persuasion, and access to his point of view, what do you think about asking him? Mr. Marchetti, would you care to comment?”

He stood and cleared his throat. “I’ve never been married, but my parents have been together for going on thirty-six years. According to my mother, it’s important for a man and woman to work on their relationship. That’s the foundation of the family. If it’s weak, the first crisis will topple everything.”

“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.”

“You make me sound like the bait for a roach motel.”

She laughed. “Just remember the insect image is yours, not mine. But seriously, you would have to be stupid not to play the field.”

If she was bitchy or nasty, he could get mad and fight down and dirty. But her manner was conversational. Light and breezy. This was one for the books—Nurse Ratchett with overtones of Tinkerbell. Her good nature was infectious even while she was tossing verbal barbs his way. She’d lobbed him so many backhanded compliments, he felt like a tennis player. How could he defend himself against that?

He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “I suppose you could describe me as relationship challenged,” he said. “I prefer that to stupid.”

“So being relationship challenged has set in since Trish Hudson?”

Joe remembered his short acquaintance with the nurse. Something about her had put him off and he’d ended things with her in a straightforward way. “What about her?”

“Didn’t you date?”

“We went out a couple times,” he answered carefully.

“What happened?” Liz seemed tense, as if she was ready to pounce on his response.

He was no stranger to the need for diplomacy in employee relations. Liz and Trish worked in the same hospital. Just because he’d ended things on account of the negative vibes she’d given off, there was no need to spread that to her co-workers. “Things just didn’t work out,” he finally said.

“So that’s what you call it?” she asked, an edge to her voice.

“What?” he asked, honestly at a loss.

“Never mind.” She stared at the water for a few moments before asking, “Relationship challenged? Does that mean you don’t fool around?” she asked skeptically.

“I used to. Not anymore.”

“And you don’t flirt?”

“Flirt is a relative term. I’m a people person. Friendly. It’s a management style. An asset for the Human Resources Director of Marchetti’s, Inc.”

“There are assets, and then there are assets. In your position, you get to scope out the territory right off the bat.”

“What does that mean?” he asked sharply.

“You can check out every new female employee.”

“Red light,” he said, shaking his head. “No way. It’s my job to make sure that kind of thing doesn’t happen. We stop short of restricting employee fraternization. But it’s strongly discouraged.”

“That could explain why you’re a volunteer.”

He wondered what she meant by that—nothing good probably. Watching her for a moment, he tried to figure out why he cared whether or not she thought badly of him.

Tamping down his annoyance he said, “Does the phrase ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’ mean anything to you?”

“Have you ever heard ‘if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck’?” He stared at her for a few moments and she said, “What?”

“I’m just trying to figure out when I quacked or waddled. What behavior have I exhibited to make you think so poorly of me?”

“The very first time I met you, you were trying to impress me with your charm.”

“And you nearly ripped my ear off. Apparently my technique could use some fine tuning. Or I need a brush-up course.”

She shook her head. “Don’t waste your time on my account. I’m immune.”

No kidding, he thought. The question was why?

He wiped his hands on a napkin. “Turnabout is fair play and I’ve been getting a grilling that would do the CIA proud. Let me ask you something.”

“Fair enough. Shoot,” she said, chewing contentedly.

“How long have you been divorced?”

She almost choked. “What makes you think that?”

“You have a chip on your shoulder the size of Texas. You camouflage it pretty well with humor. But you’ve got some baggage, lady.”

Her eyes widened, and he expected her to dispute his words. But she only said, “Thankfully it wasn’t a nasty divorce. One would have to be married first.” She fiddled with her sandwich wrapping. “I’m proud to say, I’ve never had that pleasure. I’m single and satisfied and plan to stay that way.”

“Then someone dumped on you.”

“You think? What was your first clue?”

“Because you’re wary. Of men. You don’t get that way without some help. And I’m paying the price for what some other guy did.”

He knew he’d hit close to the mark when she looked away. Watching her profile, he could see her jaw clench.

“I’m not wary of men,” she finally said. “I just have a problem with the ones who don’t play by the rules.”

“And you think I fall into that category?”

“The first time we met you threatened to pick me up bodily and lock me in the broom closet. If I recall correctly, your exact words were that visiting hours were for everyone but you.”

“I was kidding about the broom closet.”

“I know. But not about breaking the rules.”

“Cut me some slack, Nurse Ratchett. My baby sister had just had a baby. First one in the family. I wanted to spend some time with her.”

“And you think you’re the only new uncle who feels that way? Picture what would happen if everyone acted the way you did.”

“The obstetrics wing would be full of lots of happy uncles.”

“Probably. Followed quickly by anarchy and chaos.” She shook her head. “Not on my watch. Mothers and babies at risk? Completely unacceptable. It’s my job to keep order.”

Joe couldn’t help admiring the fact that she took her job seriously. Protecting new mothers and babies. Patients in her care were lucky. He had a feeling anyone she cared about would be lucky. But there was a protective shield around her, emotionally speaking, and he wondered why she worked so hard at keeping it in place.

“The fact that I’m volunteering at the hospital does nothing to alter your opinion of me?”

“It would if I didn’t get the feeling that on the heels of your good deed was a rule waiting to be broken. Or a skirt waiting to be chased, so to speak.”

“Why would you think that?”

“By the time I’d met you twice, you were coming on to three different women.” She held up her hand and started counting on her fingers. “There was the blonde I saw you with when you visited your sister in the hospital, Trish Hudson, and Abby, the woman you practically stood up because you got sidetracked scoping out the volunteer program.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘benefit of the doubt’?” he asked wryly.

“Yes. But I can’t help feeling that you don’t know the meaning of the word longevity or sincerity. And your heart is a revolving door. I’m sorry, but based on what I’ve seen it’s hard for me to believe your motivation is anything but self-serving.”

Joe considered himself a pretty easygoing guy. From the moment he’d walked into her office, he’d taken it in the shorts from Nurse Ratchett without fighting back. No more Mr. Nice Guy. It was time to set the record straight.

He rolled his sandwich wrapping into a ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then he turned to Liz.

“All right,” he said seriously. “You win. I’ll tell you my ulterior motive.”

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