Loving Jessie (30 page)

Matt wound his fingers into the thick weight of her hair, tilted her head back and silenced her with his mouth. She melted against him, arms coming up to wind around his neck, her slim body pressed close to his. He kissed her until they were both breathless and dizzy.

“You’re the only woman I know who would plan a seduction around waffles,” he muttered, tracing the line of her eyebrows with his mouth.

“I’ve heard the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she said breathlessly.

“I’d love you even if you couldn’t cook.”

She drew back far enough to look into his eyes. “Then you don’t mind if I never make another chocolate cake?”

His eyes slid away from hers, his expression uneasy. “Well…”

“Cupboard love,” she whispered against his mouth. “I knew it all along.”

“T
hat was a smile,” Matt said firmly. “That was definitely a smile.”

“According to the baby books—” Jessie began.

“What do they know?” he interrupted scornfully. “Who are you going to believe, some writer, a
stranger
, or her father? Do you think I can’t tell the difference between gas pains and a smile?”

Jessie decided it was safest to treat that as a rhetorical question and made a noncommittal noise. If Matt wanted to believe their three-week-old daughter was smiling at him, who was she to argue?

A small child plunged into her path, trailing high-pitched giggles in his wake. Jessie stepped around him, then had to detour around two picnic tables and a very fat dog of uncertain pedigree before she rejoined Matt.

The Labor Day picnic was in full swing. She’d been concerned about bringing Sara, afraid there might be too much noise, too many people, too much everything, but, held close in her father’s arms, Sara seemed oblivious to
her surroundings, blue eyes focused intently on Matt’s face.

“Daddy’s girl already,” Jessie complained.

Matt grinned. “Of course she is. That’s because she’s a child of exceptional intelligence.”

“I thought maybe it was because she knew a sucker when she saw one,” Jessie said dryly.

“That too.” Matt glanced at her, grinning.

Looking at the two of them, Jessie felt an almost painful upwelling of love. If Sara was going to smile at anyone, it would probably be her father. She responded to his voice as readily as she did to her mother’s, her fuzzy gaze seeking him out whenever he was nearby. And he made it a point to be nearby most of the time.

Contrary to the cliché of the nervous father, Matt handled Sara with an easy competence that Jessie envied. It struck her as ironic that she’d spent half her life dreaming of motherhood, and yet, now that it was a reality, she felt clumsy and hopelessly unprepared for the reality that was Sara Marie Latimer. Yet Matt took to fatherhood as if he’d been handling newborns all his life. Diapers, baths, the terrifying delicacy of this tiny new person—none of it fazed him, while she was still reeling with the overwhelming weight of the responsibility.

“Breathe.” Matt’s hand caught hers, his fingers squeezing gently. “Deep breath.”

Jessie obeyed automatically, taking a deep breath and letting it out on a little laugh. He had a knack for sensing when she was teetering on the brink of full-blown panic, and the reminder to breathe had become a sort of joke with them, shorthand for all the reassurances he would offer her if they were alone.

“Do you know how annoying it is that you aren’t pan
icking along with me?” she complained, moving closer to him as they walked past the barbecue pit.

“I figure I’ll do my panicking later, like maybe when she’s sixteen and learning to drive. If she takes after her mother…” He shuddered.

“It was one little tree,” Jessie protested, scowling. “And it didn’t even leave a very big dent.”

“That’s your story, and you should stick to it.” Matt tugged her out of the path of a pair of teenagers who were so absorbed in each other that they were oblivious to everyone and everything else.

“Young love is so sweet,” Jessie said with a sentimental sigh.

Matt raised her hand to his mouth and nibbled on her knuckles. “Old love ain’t half bad.”

“Stop it, you two. This is a family event.” Reilly’s voice was teasing. He left the blanket where Dana was sitting and came over to take the picnic basket from Jessie, pausing to peer down at Sara, who pursed her rosebud mouth at him and made smacking noises.

Family, Jessie thought as she settled on the blanket, lifting her hands to take the baby from Matt. A year ago she’d been dreaming of having a family, only half believing it would happen, more than half afraid that marrying Matt was the biggest mistake of her life. Instead it was the best thing she’d ever done, she thought as she watched Matt and Reilly squabble over the picnic basket. Dana was sitting on one corner of the blanket, managing to look elegant even in a maternity top.

Things hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected, Jessie thought, shifting Sara higher against her chest, bending her head to sniff the sweet baby smell of her daughter. She had the husband and baby she’d wanted, but she’d figured out that family was so much more than a wedding
ring or even giving birth. Family was the people you cared about, the ones you knew you could count on, who counted on you.

Lifting her head, she saw Matt watching her, saw the love in his eyes. Her mouth curved. Husband. Best friend. Lover. It was a hell of a package. And it was all hers.