When he wasn’t sequestered in the boardroom with the rest of the JTT, he was on evening watch duty, doing physio with Eve, working out with Jay, or power napping before his next commitment. She would know. She’d been keeping tabs on him the whole time.
God, she missed him.
Missed his cranky bantering and the wild spark she felt whenever he was near. Missed his bossy voice ordering her around and his grumpy reactions when she defied him. Missed the way her blood rushed when his eyes landed on her, the heat in his gaze melting her from the inside out.
On the counter next to the bathroom sink, Halia splashed in her portable bath, gurgling in the warm water as Summer passed a soft washcloth between her tiny toes. She loved bath time. They both did. It was an opportunity for quiet bonding and trust building, and not for the first time, she wished Jamie would engage.
Halia had everything a child could want or need. A family who loved her. A host of uncles who would die before letting anything happen to her. Women who hugged and kissed and cooed all over her. Even Gray had embraced the baby and brought her crazy to the party, gagging and choking when she’d changed her first diaper earlier in the day.
The memory made her grin as she lifted Halia out of the water, letting her drip over the tub for a bit before setting her down on the plush towel to dry her off. The baby wasn’t the only one bonding with the members of the household. Summer had fallen in love too.
With all of them.
How could she not? They looked out for her—made sure she was safe, fed, happy—in a non-cultish kind of way. Aside from caring for Halia, which she’d gladly do for free, there were no expectations for her to adhere to a strict canon of thoughts and behaviors. No rites to participate in, no rituals to follow, sacrifices to make, or monetary offerings to give.
Despite the physical isolation of her remote location, the security protocols, and the safety precautions, she’d never been freer. Never felt more whole. More herself. Halia, these people, this place. They were pieces of her soul she hadn’t known were missing. And now that she’d found them, she’d be crazy to mess with fate.
Crazy to want more.
And yet—she did—want more.
She wanted her music to be heard, loved, adored. By one or millions, it didn’t matter. She wanted her words, her stories, her melodies to have an impact. To reach people like her. People who needed reassurance. People who needed reminders they weren’t alone in their challenges or suffering.
She’d never wanted to be the one performing on stage or the voice on the radio. Fame and fortune didn’t matter to her. Both were too flighty. Too risky. She wanted constancy. A steady income. Recognition as a talented songwriter.
She wanted her music to endure.
A pipe dream according to Melanie.
She put aside the baby cream she’d been using to coat Halia’s delicate skin and unfolded a diaper. Maybe Jamie was a pipe dream too? His kisses, his possessiveness, his over-the-top concern about her safety giving her false hope and feeding into her delusions.
Sure, he wanted her. She wanted him too. God! How she wanted him.
The difference between them?
He didn’t want to keep her—or Halia—and she wanted forever with them both.
Which meant having sex with him was a bad idea. Bad for a million reasons. The top two? He was her boss, and her heart had gone ahead without her permission and gotten involved.
As much as she wanted to toss her V-card at Jamie and have him be her first, one, and only, she couldn’t risk everything else good in her life. If she lost Halia. Her JTT family. Her home and happiness among them. She’d never recover.
“And we can’t let that happen. Now can we, sweetheart?”
“Can’t let what happen?”
Startled, Summer swallowed a yelp as her stomach bottomed out and her heart leaped into her throat.
Jamie.
He stood framed in the doorway, looking far too sexy with his tousled hair hooked behind his ears. Her mouth went dry as all the fluids in her body pooled their resources and went south for a holiday.
He crossed the tiled floor, his cane absent, his left knee supported by a heavy-duty leg brace. “It’s time for Halia’s bottle,” she said, noticing the lines of fatigue around his eyes as he came near. “I was just saying we can’t let her go hungry.” Not technically a lie. It was almost time for her to feed the baby. “You look tired.”
“Occupational hazard.” He lifted the plastic tub to empty the water into the sink.
“You don’t have to do that. I can clean up after I give Halia her bottle and put her down.”
“I don’t mind.” He dumped the water and dried the tub with a spare towel while she secured the tabs on the diaper, covered Halia with one of her JTT onesies, and then zippered her into a fuzzy peach sleeper. After snapping the closure at the top, she scooped her up for a round of fresh-scented baby kisses.
