Some Girls Do (23 page)

“Spaghetti kitchen?” Michael echoed.

“Yep. Spaghetti stretches and when you gotta feed a lot of people cheap, it's the food of choice. I bet they'll be serving into the night. Thank y'all for coming. Y'all take care now.”

“I've never heard of a spaghetti kitchen,” Michael murmured, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“I think I'd like to go,” Katie said, warming to the prospect of a distraction.

He looked at her in disbelief. “You want to serve spaghetti to a lot of people you don't know in a town that's not yours.”

She wiggled her shoulders. “It's not like we have anything else to do,” she said, trying not to think about the officer's suggestion.

He opened his mouth to disagree, then appeared to think better of it. “Okay,” he said. “I'll drop you off after we eat.”

“Thanks,” she said and devoured her meal.

They quickly finished eating and Michael got directions to the elementary school. He pulled next to the front door. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely,” she said, already pushing open the door. She couldn't wait to escape his brooding glances and the memory of what they'd done last night. Every time she thought about how he'd made love to her, her bones turned to butter, and Katie suspected she was going to need a backbone of steel to get her through the coming days and weeks.

Michael spent three hours catching up on office work via E-mail and phone. The bed and breakfast was nice, but the sight of the romantic canopied bed got under his skin after a while, so he decided to check on Katie. He returned to the elementary school and the sight that greeted him nearly gave him a heart attack. She was feeding triplet baby girls.

He got a strong feeling like the worst case of heartburn he'd ever experienced in his life. What if Katie was pregnant with triplets? The thought of being responsible for one baby was enough, but multiples…Gulping, he forced himself to remember that the statistical probability was very low, and something told him that if anyone could handle triplets it would be Katie.

Brushing aside the disturbing thought, he walked toward her. “Practicing?”

She whipped her head around and threw him a dark look.

“Not funny. Here,” she said, giving him a spoon and a jar of baby food.

Michael looked at the baby food in disgust. “Where's mom?”

“Chasing two toddlers,” she said. “She told me she uses the rhythm method of birth control. People who use the rhythm method are called parents,” she said, throwing him another dark glance.

Michael sighed and contorted his legs so he could sit down on the chair designed for an elementary school age child. “Damn, how do you keep from getting a cramp?”

“Watch your language in front of the girls,” she said.

He chuckled and dipped the spoon into the carrots to offer a bite to the baby with the orange face in front of him. “What? You afraid that'll be their first word?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don't know much about children, do you?”

“I used to be one,” he said, offering the baby another bite. “Who am I feeding?”

“Charlotte. Diaper time after feeding.”

Michael wrinkled.” That's definitely a job for next of kin.”

“Real men change diapers “she said with alight of challenge in her eyes that did strange things to his gut and other places.

“Real men who can't get out of it change diapers.” He offered Charlotte another bite and she worked it around in her little mouth. She was pretty cute considering her cheeks matched her orange hair. “Do you like carrots?” he asked her.

She smiled coyly and dipped her head.

“She's flirting with you,” Katie said.

“Really,” he said, oddly pleased with himself. “I guess I'm just irresistible to women of all ages.”

“She doesn't know any better,” Katie told him.

“At least she smiles at me,” he said, offering her another bite. Charlotte backed her head away. “One more bite, sweetheart.” Michael poked it past her pursed lips. Charlotte held it in her mouth for three seconds, then spit the carrots right back at him.

Baby carrots splattered his chin and shirt. Michael grabbed some napkins and mopped at the orange mess. He heard Katie snicker and glanced at her.

“You think she might be finished?” she asked in an arch voice.

“I think that like most females, she's a living, breathing booby trap. All smiles one minute, spitting on you the next.”

“Well since feeding time is over, you know what time it is?”

Diaper time.
“Not for me. Where's the mother?”

Katie gave a heavy put-upon sigh. “Never mind. If you're that afraid, I'll do it myself.”

“I didn't say I was afraid,” he said.

“Then here,” she said and tossed him a diaper bag. “Wipes, diaper, and changing pad inside. You can change her over there.” Katie pointed to a small vacant corner of the cafeteria.

“I'm supposed to change her in public?” he asked in horror. “Won't that scar her or something?”

“I doubt she'll remember it,” she said in a dry voice as she continued to rotate spoons into the two mouths of the other babies. “Especially if you're fast.”

Great, Michael thought, feeling a tight itchy sensation at the back of his neck.
I'm not only supposed to be good. I'm supposed to be fast.
He couldn't remember feeling this much pressure since timed tests in the military. Mentally swearing, he shook it off.

“If I change this diaper, then I want something in return.”

Her gaze turned wary. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if I change this diaper, I don't want to hear any more remarks on how inferior men are in the area of child care.” He didn't know why it was so damn important to him that she didn't think he was a complete washout with kids. He'd have to think about that later.

“Deal. But not if she cries.”

“Okay. She won't cry,” he said with far more confidence, than he felt. He wiped off Charlotte's cheeks and hands, then lifted her from her infant seat and carried her away. “You might have to help me with this, sweetheart.”

Mentally hearing the starting gun, he reached the corner and tossed the changing pad, diaper, and wipes from the bag. He knelt down and put Charlotte on the pad. She immediately put both her fists in her mouth.

Good start. She would have a hard time crying if her fists were in her mouth. Hopefully. He spread out the diaper and looked for the front and back. He frowned. They both looked the same. Charlotte started to kick.

The clock was ticking. Michael felt that tension in the back of his neck return. He pulled a wipe from the container and set it on top, then examined Charlotte's clothing. “Snaps,” he muttered, popping them open. “Clever.” He unfastened the diaper and was greeted with a big surprise.

“Oh, Lord,” he said, wondering how a cute little baby could produce so much…He started wiping and quickly realized he was going to need more than one. Charlotte started to kick again, getting her foot in the mess.

“Oh, shit.” Michael scrambled to clean her foot, then trapped both legs and used baby wipe after baby wipe. Her little arms started to flail and she was making moderately displeased noises.

Michael felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. He whipped the diaper underneath her bottom and made a calculated guess as to where to put the tabs, careful not to attach them too tightly. Charlotte continued to kick and started to whine.

Out of desperation, Michael made car noises while he struggled with the teensy snaps. The whining paused, so he continued more loudly. The damn snaps resisted, but he finally conquered them and gave a sigh of relief. He picked up Charlotte and turned around to a group of five women. They applauded.

“Well done,” one said.

“The noises were a great touch,” another said.

“The diaper's a little loose,” another one warned.

“You might want to tighten it or you could end up with a surprise.”

A surprise.
Michael tensed. He could only imagine. “Can I do it without unfastening the snaps?”

She shook her head in sympathy.

Sighing, he mentally girded himself. Still holding Charlotte, he undid the snaps, then he carefully pulled loose the tabs, but the plastic from the diaper stuck to the adhesive.

“New diaper,” the woman coached.

Charlotte began to kick again.

Michael began to sweat and make car noises. He dug out another diaper and situated it around Charlotte's bottom, then secured the tabs and pushed the snaps together. Just as Charlotte began to make fussy sounds, he pulled her up against him.

The woman gave a nod of approval. “You'll get the hang of it. You're a good father.”

“Oh, I'm not her father,” he said. “I'm just helping out.”

The “woman's eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Oh, my. Amazing. Listen, I have a younger, single sister I would love for you to meet. Can I get your number?”

Michael shifted Charlotte in his arms. “I'm not from around here. Just temporarily delayed due to the flood.”

“Well, that's okay. Maybe you two could—”

He shook his head “You're too kind. Thanks for the diaper-changing advice,” he said and walked triumphantly toward Katie.

She lifted her brows when he stood in front of her. “I must confess. I'm surprised. I didn't hear any screaming or crying.”

“Nothing to it,” he said, wondering why he felt exhausted.

“No problem at all?” she asked doubtfully.

“None. Didn't you see those women cheering for my performance?”

“I thought they were looking at your butt.”

He blinked, affronted and flattered at the same time.

“They were impressed with my diaper-changing ability. One of the women even wanted to hook me up with her sister.” He hesitated a half beat. “I didn't think you'd noticed my body.”

Her lips parted in surprise and the you-caught-me expression flashed in her eyes. Her glance slid away. “I'm not blind.”

It would be pulling teeth to get the woman to pay him one lousy compliment. Except when she'd been coming apart in his arms last night. The vivid sensual memory made him warm again.

“Did you get rid of the dirty diaper?” she asked, clearly eager to change the subject.

“That's next. I need to get directions to the nearest toxic dump.” He set Charlotte in her infant seat and slid her closer to Katie.

“So you really had no problem changing her diaper?” Katie repeated, a speculative gleam in her eye.

“None at all.”

“Then how about changing Emily's?” she asked with a grin.

“Oh, no. I don't want to deprive you of the thrill of that accomplishment. I did mine. You do yours.”

“But what are you going to do?”

Something less stressful like detonate a bomb.
“Serve spaghetti. Those people look like they need a break. Ciao, Priss.” He waved and deliberately turned so she could get a good look at his backside while he walked away.

Katie tried hard not to steal glances at Michael and his very nice rear end the rest of the evening, but if she were being graded on the percentage of time she looked away from him versus the time she looked at him, she would have flat-out flunked.

It wasn't just that Michael was attractive. That was no news. It didn't help, however, that she knew his body much more intimately, so that when she looked at his chest, she knew how it felt against her bare breasts. She knew how his thighs felt pushing hers apart. She knew how his tongue felt when he kissed her mouth, nipples, and lower. She knew what it felt like to have Michael inside her and some insane part of her had never felt more complete. That same insane part, she reminded herself, was probably hormone-driven and could very well be related to the drive to reproduce.

And Katie definitely didn't want to reproduce. Her mind wandered to Jeremy and the brief call she'd made a few days ago. The school was equipped with special telephones that enabled the students to see the caller's conversations in text, but not being able to see his face had been hard. She'd heard the disappointment in his voice when she'd apologized for not being able to visit him on Sunday. She'd promised she would be there for his birthday even if she had to ride a donkey from Texas to Pennsylvania.

She glanced at the sleeping triplets, then her gaze was drawn again to Michael. He was smiling at an elderly woman as he served her a sandwich. Katie was surprised at his friendliness and willingness to serve for so long. After all, the spaghetti line had long since closed and it was almost nine o'clock now.

He caught her looking at him and she almost looked away, but couldn't muster the energy to hide her curiosity. He gave her a long look that sent a zinging sensation through her, nodded, then continued to dole out sandwiches.

After a few more moments, the line died down and he walked toward her. “You look tired. Are you ready to go?”

She was tired, but she wasn't ready to face sharing a bed with him. “I'm okay.”

“Why were you staring at me?” He looked down at his shirt. “Do I have spaghetti on me or something?”

“No, just rejected strained carrots,” she said, unsuccessfully smothering a chuckle when he rolled his eyes.

He crumpled his long frame into a tiny chair beside her. “Then why were you staring?”

She felt her stomach take a little dip and she shrugged. “I don't know. I guess you surprised me.”

“How?”

“Well, you've been—” She paused at the inevitable word that came to mind. “You've been charming today. You almost seem like you've enjoyed yourself helping with Charlotte and the spaghetti line.”

“It wasn't bad. I just followed your lead.”

“What do you mean?”

“There's nothing I can do about finding Wilhemina. I'm stuck. Might as well make the best of it.”

“I think it's the first time I've seen you when you didn't have a one-track mind. You haven't been Dick Tracy today.”

“Same with you,” he-said, his gaze wrapping around her like a hug she'd needed all day long.

“Same with
me
?”

“Yeah, since you accepted Ivan's mission impossible, you've had a one-track mind. Matchmaker, matchmaker.”

That stopped her. “I don't know what to say. I hadn't thought of myself that way. I was too busy trying to keep my job and make sure Jeremy was taken care of.”