Chapter Eight


John had thought long and hard about going back to Tulips. He'd known Marnie didn't have any interest in having a man in her life—raising a baby on her own, re-directing and growing her business in Tulips and settling into a new home were all she could handle.
He'd been willing to move on for a while, continue on the path he'd planned for himself, and then come back to do exactly what he'd said he would: play house father for Liza while Marnie got on her feet.
He set the dollhouse on the ground. Marnie stared at it, her eyes huge and startled.
"Did you build this yourself?"
"I did." It hadn't been hard since he built large homes and mansions. He'd enjoyed the challenge of designing a dream dollhouse for little Liza. If he had a daughter of his own, this would be something he would teach her to do. "It's a small-scale version of my house, actually."
"It's lovely." Marnie crouched to look inside the windows. "The detail is amazing."
"Thank you." He felt pretty proud of what he'd created, and glad that Marnie admired it. He'd hoped their shared joy in creating things would be a link that they could build on.
"How did you get this here on your motorcycle?" She stood to look at him, and he realized she was thinner, making her seem taller. He was six two, so he figured her at about five seven. Her hair was longer, no longer in a true page boy, a more relaxed style for her. She'd been an attractive woman pregnant, but now he found himself thinking she was even sexier. Was it wrong to think that way with her holding a baby?
He straightened, bracing himself against the surprising emotions. "I bought a truck in Alaska."
"What happened to your motorcycle?"
He'd been watching her lips as she spoke and nearly missed the question. So soft and supple and feminine… "The bike's in the back. I needed a truck for the road conditions, but I couldn't give up the Harley."
"You're quite a traveler, aren't you?" Marnie asked, letting Pansy and Helen take Liza from her. The ladies walked inside the house with the baby, murmuring something about a diaper change.
"It's been a goal of mine for a long time," John said. "I haven't taken a vacation in a few years. Five, actually. It was time."
"Time?"
"Time to get away. See new things." Her, for example. He'd never have met Marnie and Liza in this tiny town if he hadn't finally made a chink in his calendar for free-spirited wandering. "I'm thirty-five. Old by your standards, I suppose."
She arched a brow. "I'm twenty-nine, old-timer."
"And in the settling down phase. Anyway, I'm back to keep my end of the bargain."
"We had no bargain, at least not after you paid for the doors."
"But I'm a man of my word," John said, "and you need a helping hand if you're going to make the doors for that quaint saloon I saw in town. The Tulips Saloon makes great ******s and tea. Now they just need a proper door."
"There's no door on this charming dollhouse," Marnie said, bending down once more to look inside, and he nodded.
"I know. I figured if you turned me down for Liza duty, I'd at least commission you to do the front door for her dollhouse. And as I recall, you're hoping to put doors in your portfolio."
Marnie noted John's shrewd appeal to her business and artistic side. "You want me to design the door for your gift to Liza."
"To match the doors you're creating for the Tulips Saloon," he said, his dark eyes twinkling, "so she'll have something distinctly historical and meaningful from her new town."
Smooth, Marnie thought—but she'd been smooth-talked before.

Chapter Nine


"I've booked a room at Pansy's," John said, to further convince Marnie that she had nothing to worry about. "As your personal assistant, I can be here every morning as early as eight, or whatever time you like to work. And I cook breakfast. I should warn you, the kitchen is my favorite domain."
Marnie looked at him, sorely tempted, not only because of the help he was offering but of the sexual longing tugging at her. How many women had a hunk offer to be their personal assistant? "John," she said, her conscience giving her desire one last good fight, "I don't know you…"
"And so I'm providing personal references," he said cheerfully. "I brought a letter of introduction from my mother, who jumped on this opportunity to brag on me, a letter from my sister, who thinks the dilemma I've gotten into is a hoot and one from my ex-wife, who, strange as it may seem, is sort of a best friend/sister to me. She thinks I'm reaping my just desserts. But you can read that in the letter."
Marnie raised her brow. "Just desserts?"
"Yeah." He grinned. "One of the reasons we divorced was that I wanted children, and Susie just didn't. It was a lifestyle difference. She was kind of a wanderer and liked her freedom."
"I would have said that was your description."
John shook his head. "Not me. I'm a homebody. Susie said I was boring in an attractive way. But I still think there's nothing more appealing than settling down in your house at night with your wife, your kids, your dogs and maybe a glass of something good to drink. I see that in my distant future."
"I don't believe you." He hadn't been home in months! That didn't seem very homebody to her.
"Okay. Sex after the kids go to bed. That would complete my idea of the good life, when and if I ever get around to it."
She didn't know what to say to that. Her throat had gone terribly dry.
"Don't you agree?"
Her gaze took in the T-shirt stretched over his chest and the tight cling of his jeans. "I'm sorry. Agree to what?"
He chuckled. "That my description of a dream home life is—"
"A dream." Marnie began walking toward the house, anxious to get away from the thoughts she was having about John.
"Wait," he said, tugging gently at her hand. She stopped, gazing up at him. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable." She was…afraid. Prince Charmings usually couldn't be trusted, except in fairy tales where writers wrote the endings. Real life was never so happily-ever-after.
"So," he said, gently touching her cheek, "if you're not uncomfortable, will you take me up on my offer? I promised myself one good deed on my road trip."
That was a story if she'd ever heard one. Marnie looked at him. "How are your diapering skills?"
"Nil," he said, "but I'm a fast learner."
A wriggling baby would soon test that theory. Marnie nodded. "As long as we agree to a one-week trial period. If your personal assistant skills are lacking, off you go, no questions asked."
"I'll keep my truck keys handy."
"Good." She walked inside the house and into the kitchen—a safe zone—all too aware of John following behind and a delicious longing waking inside her.
He set the dollhouse on her kitchen table. "By the time you do the saloon and dollhouse doors, you'll have a nice addition to your portfolio."
"By the time you watch Liza, you'll have a nice addition to your dad skills."
He smiled. "I'm looking forward to getting to know her better." His dark eyes glowed with teasing directness. "And her mother."

Chapter Ten


A knock on the front door saved Marnie from John's teasing. He was disappointed—he'd really wanted to set her off-balance. Her veil of unattainability was getting to him. Was she as cool as she acted toward him?
He hoped not. He felt anything but cool toward her.
She let in a big man dressed in a sheriff's hat, worn jeans, a badge and wearing a big smile for Marnie, whom he warmly greeted.
"Hello, Sheriff Forrester, just passing by?" she said, obviously no stranger to the tall man's welcome wagon.
Pansy and Helen came into the kitchen with baby Liza. Pansy filled John in on Sheriff Duke Forrester's story in a soft murmur. "Sheriff Duke's bride left him at the altar a few months ago. Of course, Duke will never get over Liberty. He's still reeling over our town's best girl's desertion. He and Marnie are becoming fast friends, but then that's Duke, always Tulips' best face forward. Duke's sister, Pepper, is a doctor up north, and we're ready for her to come home. Their younger brother, Zach, is a rascal, in the nicest sort of way. The Forrester family is our drama pageant, but that's what makes Tulips a town with heart. "
Duke reminded John of the cowboy in Union Junction, Mason Jefferson, who'd befriended Marnie. If she liked tall, dark, and…well, scruffy, he amended, then John should fit right into Marnie's check list. What was it about him that didn't earn him the warmth that Mason and this sheriff guy received?
"This is John Colby from West Virginia," Marnie said. "John, this is Tulips' sheriff, Duke Forrester."
"Saw your truck outside," Duke said, shaking John's hand in a firm grip, "and your bike. Traveling man, huh?"
"You could say that." John didn't like Duke's comment, as if Duke was hopeful that he'd travel on any moment and relinquish Marnie to him.
"Come on, little pumpkin," Duke said, taking Liza from Pansy, "Uncle Duke has missed you."
John needed a fire extinguisher for the flames of jealousy he could feel practically engulfing his body.
"Look at this wonderful dollhouse John made Liza," Marnie said, and Duke nodded.
"Carpenter?" he asked John.
"Builder." John didn't want to clarify anything more.
"We could use a good builder around here," Duke said. "We're developing a three-year plan to bring new settlers to our tiny little dot on the map we call Tulips."
"John's going to stay with Pansy while I re-do the doors for the saloon," Marnie said.
"Oh, you're the guy who—"
Marnie put a hand on Duke's arm to silence the rest of his comment. "He's the man who's going to watch Liza for me while I work."
Duke nodded, his gaze attentive. "Nice of you to help Marnie out, John."
"It most certainly is," Helen said, and Pansy nodded her agreement.
Awkward silence permeated the room until Marnie said, "Well, there's probably no time like the present to get started," and everyone took that as their cue to leave. Pansy and Helen kissed Marnie and Liza goodbye, and Duke gave Liza to Marnie and shook John's hand without any ill will, and suddenly, the door closed and John was alone with Marnie.
"Here you go," Marnie said, placing Liza in John's arms. Liza began to wail instantly. That will run him off, Marnie thought, and then I'll be safe.
Maybe safety was overrated, but fighting the attraction she felt for John seemed like her best option.

Chapter Eleven


John held the crying baby, a little startled, a little apprehensive, and yet, a lot excited. "Hey," he said to the baby, "I promise I don't bite. At least I won't bite you."
At the sound of his deep voice, Liza hesitated, then settled her fist into her mouth.
"She might be colicky," Marnie said, "but I'm not certain of that. Every once in a while, she seems to get a tummyache."
"Are you breastfeeding?"
He noted the attractive blush that hit Marnie's cheeks.
"Yes."
"Has she eaten recently?" he asked.
"Actually, right before you arrived." The blush became a little pinker.
He studied Liza again. "You're too young for a motorcycle seat and most likely a stroller, as well," he mused. "So what is your choice of wheels?"
Marnie held up a baby carrier. "Too young for wheels just yet, I'm afraid. This is her mode of transportation."
"And so," John said, taking the baby carrier, "we'll tour Tulips by foot because there's nothing better than a twilight stroll to take the edge off our tempers. Ms. Pansy said you love walks and that I should take you out often for fresh air. We'll assume that's the magic cure for your tummy."
With practiced hands that had held his sister's children, John slipped Liza into the carrier and put it on. "What did fathers do before these things, man purses and handheld TVs?"
Marnie looked at him. "You actually don't look bad wearing that." There was nothing sissy about John. The truth was, he was one of those men who was even sexier taking on domestic duties. He wasn't metrosexual or trying to be up with the times; he was just big and strong and looked completely comfortable with a baby strapped to him.
"We'll be back after we stroll off some tears," John told Marnie, leaving with a wink. The house fell silent after their departure. Marnie frowned, thinking she should have offered to go with him.
But by walking together, they would have looked like a family. She didn't want that. Nor, she suspected, did he. She wasn't certain she completely bought the ex-wife being a best friend explanation. She hadn't read the letters of introduction he claimed he'd brought with him, but how many women would let a handsome, sexy, comfortable-in-his-skin man go easily?
And yet she'd just allowed him to walk out the door with her child. Panic hit her. She flung open the front door to offer to walk with him and halted once she made it to the sidewalk. He was down the block, talking with Sheriff Duke and two older gentlemen who'd been introduced to her as town elders Bug Carmine and Mr. Parsons. The men were laughing and Liza wasn't crying anymore.
Going back to her house, she closed the door, telling her heart to calm down. New mother nerves, she told herself—perfectly reasonable. Plus no man who'd created such a wonderful dollhouse could be bad.
In the kitchen, she sat down to examine the dollhouse. She'd been too surprised by it earlier to do little more than thank John.
The white house had a grandiose, curved balcony and a wide porch. A black roof sloped down, and gables graced the second story. Inside, two antebellum-style staircases swirled up to the second and third floors. All the rooms had crown moldings, and five of the rooms of the house contained lovely fireplaces. There was a library, painted with a collection of classics. Marnie caught her breath, seeing a claw-foot bathtub and tiny marble pieces for flooring in the master bath. The second floor was mostly hardwood, possibly for dancing or holding large gatherings. Most amazing was the floor under the gabled eaves, which was outfitted on one side for a large children's nursery with toys painted on the walls.
There wasn't any furniture in the house, and no front door or windows. Marnie could design glass pieces, and one day Liza would enjoy choosing furniture for her dollhouse. Delicately scrolled letters on a near-hidden wall of the kitchen caught her eye.
"Even a big house is small and empty without love," she murmured, her breath catching at the sentimentality expressed in the artwork. And it made her wonder just who John Colby was and why he seemed so determined to give her child a world filled with whimsical dreams.

Chapter Twelve


An hour later, John returned, a calm and sleepy Liza in his arms. "She's been passed around like crazy. Everyone in Tulips has admired her. And I enjoyed cinnamon ******s at the Saloon. Life is good." He grinned at Marnie. "But I estimate feeding time can't be too far away for this little gal." He laid a small white paper bag on the kitchen table. "Compliments of Helen and Pansy. They said you really like the frosted tulip ******s." He hoped his offering would cheer Marnie up; she seemed so tentative around him.
"Thank you. And thank you for walking Liza."
"You're welcome." He hung the carrier over a chair. "If you give me my work hours, I'll be on my way. Pansy is stirring up some fettucine for me, and I don't dare be late."
"You are getting the royal treatment."
"Yes." Although he'd prefer to be stirring up fettuccine for Marnie, he didn't suggest it. She was far too skittish with him, but perhaps in the coming days she'd be more comfortable with their arrangement.
"John, you really don't have to do this. I can work while Liza sleeps."
That sounded distinctly like a woman who didn't want him around. John looked at Marnie, admiring her independence. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yes," she said, her voice uncertain.
"Where's Liza's father?"
Marnie shook her head. "I honestly don't know."
"But he knows about her?"
"Yes. He did."
Sadness for Liza sank his heart. "He has no plans on being part of her life?"
Sighing, Marnie moved to the nursery with Liza. "No. He broke off our engagement when he found out. I misunderstood the depth of his commitment to me and what he wanted in life."
"What did he want, if not a family?" John could hardly believe a man could walk away from a woman like Marnie and a sweet baby. He was having enough trouble walking away, and he had no reason to hang around. Marnie didn't give off many signals that would lead him to hope that she was interested in what he had to offer.
"I don't think he knew what he wanted. But when I became pregnant, he knew very well what he didn't want."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Marnie raised her chin. "It's the best thing that could have happened to Liza and me. I'd rather have honesty than someone staying with me out of obligation."
He blinked. "I don't feel obligated."
"Don't you?"
Slowly, he shook his head at the question in her puzzled eyes. "Absolutely not," he said. "Obligation is the last thing I feel for you."
And to prove his point, he slid his fingers along her cheek, drawing her to him for the most convincing kiss he could lay on her.