her quietly. “If there’s a decision to be made, we talk it over, understood? We’re in this together, darlin’. Get used to it.”
* * *
Sharon Lynn didn’t know what to make of a man like Cord Branson. How many men would assume responsibility for an abandoned baby? How many would insist on being a part of any decisions that were made? The men in her family would have, even worrywart, by-the-book Justin, but Adams men were a breed apart. She hadn’t met many others like them.
Of course, as a practical matter, Cord was at White Pines. The baby was here in town with her. She was responsible for the day-to-day care, the middle-of-the-night feedings, the diaper changes, juggling the baby and work. How often was Cord likely to pop in for a few minutes of cuddling the baby, maybe a feeding? How long would it be before he tired of making the long drive? How long before the novelty of make-believe parenting wore off?
Quite a while, she finally concluded at the end of the week, when Cord had turned up every single evening promptly at six and insisted on taking over Ashley’s care.
“You’ve had her all day. I’ll pitch in now,” he told her emphatically on Tuesday and every night after.
She’d never seen a man so taken with a child. On the one hand, knowing how precious little time they might have, she begrudged him every second he spent with the baby. It was time lost to her. On the other hand, it was amazing and wonderful to see just how tender and patient he was. Ashley responded to him with gurgles of delight. No matter how fussy she’d been, she quieted at once in his arms. He had a magic touch, all right. Sharon Lynn envied him that.
“Why the disgruntled expression, darlin’?” he inquired from his perch on a stool at the counter. Ashley was settled in his arms with a pacifier in her mouth.
“Sorry,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Better, but I don’t believe it. What’s on your mind?”
She slapped down the rag she’d been using to wipe the counter. “Okay, here it is. I just don’t get it. She’s been cranky all afternoon. You walk in, pick her up and bam, she’s peaceful as a little lamb.”
He grinned. “Seems to me you’re the cranky one, darlin’. You want to slip up here in my lap and see if I can settle you down, too?”
She scowled. “That is not what I meant.”
“No, what you meant is that you’re doing all the hard work and then I waltz in and get duty that’s a snap. You get the tears. I get the smiles.”
He’d hit the nail on the head, but it seemed selfish and mean-spirited to admit it. “You don’t have to help out at all,” she told him stiffly. “I can manage.”
“I thought we’d settled that. I’m going to do my share, at least as much as I can, given our circumstances. Now, come on. Finish up here and I’ll take you out to dinner. Then you can go home and get a decent night’s sleep. I’ll bunk on the sofa and take the 2:00 a.m. feeding. I don’t have to work in the morning. Your brother’s taking over for me.”
Sharon Lynn regarded him skeptically. “Harlan Patrick volunteered for extra duty? Why?”
“I didn’t ask questions. I just grabbed at the chance to relieve you.”
“I suppose this was Daddy’s bright idea,” she muttered under her breath. “Or Grandpa Harlan’s.”
“Does it really matter? I thought you’d be grateful.”
“Oh, I am,” she said, thinking longingly of getting an uninterrupted night’s sleep for a change. But she had a feeling that whoever had dreamed up the notion had been more interested in throwing her and Cord together overnight. Fortunately he seemed oblivious to that particular motive.
When she’d put the last of the cleaning supplies away, she glanced up and saw Cord watching her.
“On second thought,” he suggested, “why don’t we go to your place? You can prop your feet up, put on a little music, relax and I’ll cook.”
“You cook?”
“Well enough. Tempted?”
“Oh, yes,” she said fervently. “It sounds like heaven. Maybe I could even take a nice long bubble bath, while you’re in the kitchen.”
“If you’d like,” he agreed, though his voice suddenly sounded a little husky.
Sharon Lynn discovered that she was enjoying the reaction just a little too much to let it pass. “That wouldn’t bother you, would it?” she asked innocently.
“Bother me?” he echoed irritably. “Why would it bother me?”
“I can’t