SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... (17 page)

After lunch Jax disappeared into Pickett's office with the textbook. He reappeared a half hour later to ask if he could borrow a note pad, only to disappear immediately. Since she couldn't do housework and couldn't access her case notes, Pickett gave herself permission to read her new Jennifer Cruisie novel.

Tyler and Lucy, with Patterson refereeing, had started a noisy game of hide-and-seek in the hall that involved much running up and down the stairs with accompanying squeals, barks, banging of doors, clatter of boy feet, and clicking of dog toenails.

Jax came into the living room, one finger marking the place in the Braselton text. He gestured with his head toward the stairs. "Are you supposed to let him make that much noise in the house?"

"Are you asking whether I'm supposed to or whether you're supposed to?"

"Whether one is supposed to."

"I don't mind it. I kind of like it, really. It's happy-sounding and there's not much trouble they can get into. Let them be free to run and play and make noise."

"Isn't it necessary to teach children to be quiet?"

"When appropriate, yes. But when a child's too quiet, it's not a healthy sign."

Jax digested that for a moment, then took a seat at the other end of the couch, spreading out the book and his notes. "I have some questions."

Pickett pointed to the book opened to a page about three-quarters through. "You've already read that much?"

"Finished it. Now I'm going back and reading for detail."

Pickett knew her amazement showed on her face. His quick grasp of things had been obvious from the start, delighting her with his ability to keep up mentally with her. But somehow she hadn't expected a man so obviously physical to be willing to really study

"Why are you surprised? You gave me the book to read. I read it."

Pickett didn't feel inclined to tell him that she'd imagined he would leaf through the book at most, then set it aside. It wasn't the kind of book that anybody who wasn't interested in child development would read all the way through.

She also thought he wouldn't be flattered to know she expected him to turn Tyler's care over to her, as soon as he found out what was in the book.

"What are your questions?" she asked.

"Check me out to see if I'm understanding this and getting the most important points."

He quickly summarized his study, then moved on to discuss sections of the book which described children of Tyler's age group. In moments they were deep into discussion of height/weight charts, sleep and nutritional requirements, developmental milestones.

Once again Pickett was amazed that he had acquired so much information and understood its significance to Tyler in so short a period, and said so.

"SEALs never stop training. You have to be able to learn fast and thoroughly to keep up." It was said with such simplicity that Pickett wondered if he really thought it was no big deal. No. He knew it was a big deal. He glanced at his notes. "I have some more questions."

The room was stuffy. Heavy gusts of wind and downpours still accompanied fast-moving squall lines, but the roaring center of the storm was well past. Even with the windows closed, moisture-laden tropical air had seeped into the house, and Pickett wished it were possible to at least turn on a fan. She felt a film of perspiration coating her arms and legs, sticking her bra and panties to her skin. She shifted on the sofa, trying to find a position that was both ladylike and didn't require any part of her skin to touch to any other part.

She settled for propping her feet on the chest that passed for a coffee table. She tried folding her hands over her middle but sweated through her shorts in a matter of minutes, so she just let her arms dangle at her sides.

Jax had no such constraints. He sat in a loose-limbed sprawl, one arm along the back of the couch. He was gleaming with sweat, and yet it made him more attractive, defining the contours of his arms and thighs, the strong column of his neck, even emphasizing the almost ascetic quality of his features that took his face from good-looking to compelling. He didn't look uncomfortable. He didn't even look like he noticed that the room was uncomfortable.

A surge of pure resentment tightened the back of Pickett's throat. It was so unfair. Being sweaty made him gorgeous. She probably looked like— she didn't want to think about what she looked like. She pushed at tendrils of hair that kept escaping the clip to cling damply to her neck. What had he asked? Did she think Tyler was typical in development for his age?

His focus seemed to be absolute, but to keep hers Pickett found herself slipping into the old trick she had used in college of dividing her mind into a part that paid attention and another that observed.

Did he really have to be smart, single-minded, well built, and good-looking? Some remnant of fairness forced her to acknowledge that it really wasn't his fault that he had it all, while she still felt like fat, nerdy Pickett, perpetual disappointment to her family On the outside she had changed, but it seemed like the old feelings were there to trip her up anytime she let herself be tempted to wish, or dream.

Pickett recognized the slippery slope from resentment to self-pity and jerked herself up short. That was the past. If she was attracted to this man, she should let him know that his attentions would not be unwelcome.

Being attracted was the problem. He affected her with a sensual blast, the likes of which she had never before experienced. Finding out he was brilliant had ratcheted up the sex quotient by a factor of ten. Just when she was sure he was a shallow jerk—he had married Danielle for no better reason than that she was beautiful, for goodness sake— and when
that
didn't work out—surprise!—he'd abandoned his son. It didn't matter what Jax's excuses were; that's what Tyler would believe had happened. And then Jax would do something that showed he really cared for his son, and was trying to be a good father, however belatedly Like reading a reference work on child development from cover to cover.

From one moment to the next Pickett couldn't decide whether she should kick his butt, or throw him on the sofa and have her way with him (after reading a book to find out how).

Pickett could hear herself answering questions. Yes, she agreed Tyler was more like a five-year-old than a four in language skill. Motor development seemed on track. He was possibly a little immature for his age in emotional/social development but children commonly regressed under stress.

"Stress?" Jax seized the word. "You think Tyler is under stress?"

"Aren't
you
under stress? Why wouldn't he be?"

"I thought he was unhappy to be with me, maybe that he didn't like me."

"That may be true, but I would guess he's seriously worried about what is going to happen to him. His mother abandoned him, his grandmother left him with you, and he probably thinks you will do what you've always done: show up for a short while and then leave again. And then he'll be alone. Absolutely alone."

"His mother didn't abandon him. She died."

"I doubt if the difference means much to someone who is not quite five."

Jax was silent for a moment, gazing sightlessly out the window where a momentary break in the clouds bathed the dripping yard in sunshine.

When he looked back his gray eyes were dark with pain. "Does he really think I would abandon him—just go off and leave him behind to fend for himself?"

A lesser person might have turned away from the look of tragic horror on his face, or tried to paper over the moment with platitudes and reassurances.

Pickett felt her own eyes grow moist, yet she did neither.

Her great gift was her willingness to stay with someone, not shielding either herself or them, while they went through the sometimes harrowing process of uncovering their own inner knowledge about the deep truths of their life.

Suddenly a loud thump, followed by a wail, sounded from the room above.

Before Pickett could shift her legs from the pine chest, Jax had vaulted over the sofa and was out of the room. Pickett got to the door in time to see his powerful legs cover the stairs in no more than four easy-looking strides.

Knowing she couldn't hope to match his speed, Pickett stayed where she was. In moments Lucy and Patterson raced down the stairs clattering and jingling, followed much more slowly by Jax carrying a red-faced Tyler.

He pushed out his lower lip and turned accusing eyes on Pickett. "Patterson made me fall down."

"He did? That wasn't very nice, was it?"

"No. And I bumped my head." He rubbed a tiny red spot on his forehead, then tucked his face into the crook of Jax's neck.

A look passed between Pickett and Jax. An odd sense that he was sharing with her his fright, his relief, his vulnerability to his child's pain.

"So, I guess you're just going to let Daddy hold you, until it feels better."

Tyler stiffened in momentary surprise, then nodded while snuggling his face deeper against his father's shoulder. A tiny starfish hand came up to rest against the other side of his father's neck.

Jax shifted his precious burden to allow the child to settle more comfortably against him.

The sun chose that moment to come out again, spilling the golden light of late afternoon through the high window on the landing. Like a benediction it gilded the two heads and illuminated the man's tender expression. The tiny body lay against its father's broad chest in complete trust.

This was their moment. Pickett quietly excused herself to go to the kitchen to make snacks.

Pickett's one loaf of bread was running low so she fixed apple slices and peanut-butter crackers. Tyler didn't like the rice crackers, which was all Pickett had, so he licked the peanut butter off them, alternating with bites of apple. Jax pronounced the extremely crunchy texture of the crackers to be interesting, but Pickett thought he didn't much like them either.

He asked if they had fewer calories than regular crackers and looked surprised when Pickett said she didn't know. Having found her knowledgeable about child development, she wondered if he now expected her to know everything about everything.

It wasn't worth pursuing, however, so she pointed out that they should take advantage of the break in the rain to walk outside for a few minutes.