consisted of being surrounded by moody infants, Zoey couldn’t bear to hear a baby crying in anguish. Instinctively, she reached for the child in Jonas Tate’s arms, tamping down all the questions that swirled in her head at his appearance. She noted only that he surrendered the baby willingly, and she pushed past him into the house, nudging the door shut with her foot before the cold morning air could chill the infant. She rocked the baby carefully, murmuring soothing, meaningless sounds. The tiny thing stopped crying almost instantly, focusing intently on Zoey’s face, blinking her teary, red-rimmed eyes.
“There’s my good girl,” Zoey said quietly, knowing immediately that the child was female. She placed a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead, inhaling the sweet aroma of powder and soap, and she smiled. “Here,” she added to Jonas, jerking the patient file out from under her arm and thrusting it toward him without looking at him. “Dr. Forrest asked me to drop this off on my way home. She said you’d need it today.”
When he didn’t take the file from her right away, Zoey glanced up. Now she had no choice but to take note of him, and she didn’t like what she saw. Well, she liked what she saw, she amended reluctantly, taking in the expansive chest covered with dark hair and corded muscle, the broad, steely shoulders and the pajamas dipping low on trim hips beneath a flat abdomen. She just wished the attributes she was appreciating belonged to someone other than Jonas Tate. When her gaze traveled up to meet his, he had arched a dark brow in question, and she realized he knew full well how closely she’d been inspecting his wares. She felt herself blush.
Unwilling to trust her voice just then, she shook the file in her hand to bring his attention to it. When he still did not take it from her, she cleared her throat discreetly and said, “Dr. Forrest seemed to think it was important.”
Jonas took the folder from her hands and tossed it onto the sofa without looking at it. Instead, his attention seemed to be focused completely on Zoey and the baby, who still stared solemnly up at her. And because she felt infinitely more capable of dealing with a baby than a nearly naked man, Zoey dropped her gaze back to the infant in her arms.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” she asked in a soft, breathless voice, rubbing her bent knuckle gently against the baby’s cheek. “Hmm? What’s your name?”
The baby gurgled and smiled, making Zoey laugh in response.
“Juliana,” a deep, husky voice said beside her. “Tate. Her name is Juliana Tate.”
Zoey feared that if she looked up, she would find Jonas standing much too close to her, and then she would no doubt do something really foolish. Like reach out to touch him, which was what she definitely wanted to do. So she kept her gaze trained tightly on the baby and spoke to her instead. “Well, that’s an awfully big name for such a little baby, isn’t it, Juliana? Yes, that’s an awfully big name for you to grow into.”
Juliana cooed and smiled again.
“How did you do that?” Jonas asked.
Zoey glanced away from the baby and up at Jonas and, sure enough, regretted the action completely. Up close this way, she could see that his shoulders were deliciously freckled, and could make out every smooth plane of muscle from his neck to his waist. She swallowed with some difficulty before asking, “Do what?”
“You made her stop crying,” he indicated. “Just by holding her, you made her stop. And now she’s actually smiling at you. She’s never smiled at me.”
“I...I don’t know,” Zoey said honestly. “You can’t ‘make’ babies do anything. They choose whether to smile or to cry or to stop, and usually they have very good reasons for doing all three.”
His lips thinned into a tight line, and he settled his hands on his hips, an expression and pose Zoey had seen often enough to know what it meant. It meant she’d made him mad.
“So