Melting Into You (Due South Book 2) (2 page)

“You’ll be staying at Due South or one of the B&Bs then?”

Marci tossed her mane of hair. “Oh, I’m not staying. Just Jade. I’m returning to Auckland tonight.”

Kezia stared. Blood thrummed crazily in her head until her ears buzzed. Her politically correct teacher-
self got kicked to the curb and the Italian mamma in her roared to life. “
Merda
! You’re leaving her here? Alone?”

Marci’s forehead creased into a “V,” her baby blues frosting. “Jade’s eight, not a baby. She’ll have a blast, especially with someone her own age to keep her ente
rtained.”

A blast? Being left with a complete stranger on a t
iny settlement over nine hundred miles from home when you were eight years old was not a blast.

Kezia sucked in a deep breath and forced the lava rush of blood in her brain down to her boot soles. “But your little girl doesn’t know Ben.”

Cocking a hip, Marci folded her arms. “They’ll get along fine. He’s a bit of a cold fish, but he’s still a good guy. He’ll look after her.”

Kezia’s belly gave an inappropriate little flutter. When Ben crossed her mind, as he’d started to do a lot recently, the first adjective she thought of wasn’t cold.

“Yes, he’s a good man.”

“Great.” Marci slid a not-so-subtle glance at her watch. “I’m going to peek into that little gift shop in town, then relax with a coffee before the ferry leaves. It’d be wonderful if Zoe could be friends with Jade. She’s a little…shy.”

Kezia bit her tongue. Literally nipped her teeth down on it so it wouldn’t get her into trouble. She remembered Jade, with her chin sunk to her chest, her white-knuckled hands gripping the pink Barbie backpack, trudging up the road after her mother.
None of your business, Kez
. Hah. None of her business said no red-blooded Italian woman ever.

“Zoe will love having someone to play with. There aren’t any girls her age on the island.”

“Well, this tiny outpost is pretty, of course. But why would people actually want to live here?” Marci blinded Kezia with a dazzlingly insincere smile. “Anyway, nice to meetcha.”

With a
toodle-loo wave, Marci stepped aside and clopped down the road as fast as her ridiculous wedges would allow.

Kezia walked to the back door of her cottage and toed off her rubber boots. She padded in thick socks across the tongue-and-groove flooring to the sink. Fil
ling a glass, she watched a bellbird on one of the many trees surrounding their home. He shook his olive-green feathers and his mate fluttered to the branch next to him, cocking her head inquisitively.

Ah…
amore
.

She rolled her eyes as Zoe poked her head around the kitchen door.

“Mamma, can I have a muffin since I’ve been cleaning so hard?”

Kezia cast another glance out the window, even though she couldn’t see Ben’s house up the hill. What about Jade? Dumped on a big, intimidating stranger who likely couldn’t cope with her unexpected arrival. While there was no shortage of love in the Murphy
household, would the poor girl find any affection with Ben?

The blueberry muffins she’d baked earlier sat on the counter. “How about we take some muffins up to Ben’s place?”

Zoe grinned. “And I can meet my new friend? Cool!”

“Jade’s only here for the holidays,
cara
. She’ll go home to Auckland once school starts.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “There’s such a thing as e-mail, Facebook, and Skype, you know.”

“Let’s just welcome her to the island first. She might be feeling a little scared right now.” Since her mother chose to shop, instead of making this difficult transition easier.

“I’ll be a good friend, ‘cause I know what it’s like being scared in a strange place.”

Kezia crossed to her daughter and hugged her tight. She refused to allow the vision of sterile hospital corridors and rooms filled with hollow-faced children back in her head. “I know you’ll be a good friend to Jade. You’re the bravest kid in the world.”

Zoe snickered and wriggled out of her arms. “Not the world but probably on the island.”

“You’re the bravest kid in my world, because you are my world.”

“Yeah, Mamma, I know. Can we go?” Her nose crinkled. “But maybe you’d better have a really quick
shower first. You don’t smell nice, and there’s a leaf in your hair.”

Kezia chuckled and gave her daughter’s butt a gentle swat. “See if you can change out of your gardening clothes by the time I’ve finished getting beautiful again.”

Zoe skipped down the hallway to her room. “You are beautiful, Mamma. Not the most beautiful lady in the world but definitely on the island.”

Yes, more than enough
amore
filled their little home. With Zoe, Kezia had everything she needed.

***

Ben sat. Jade sat.

He stared. She looked at her hands.

He coughed. She startled and flinched away.

Angling his head, he glared at the ceiling. How could Marci just spring this kid on him and walk away? This wide-eyed, terrified kid? This little girl swamped by his armchair, her black boots dangling off the cus
hion at least five inches above the floor. So small.

His daughter.

What was he supposed to do now? A bead of sweat trickled down his ribs, and he pulled his tee shirt away from his throat.

Marci had left fifteen minutes ago, and, so far, his entire conversation with
his daughter
consisted of him asking awkward questions and her shaking or nodding her head.

Ben hunched in his chair and tried to appear small and unthreatening. A near-impossible task for a guy who’s six-foot-two and built like an armored tank. “Sure you don’t want some juice?”

Pigtails flicked from side to side.

Time to pull out the big guns. “There’s Coke in the fridge. You could have that instead.”

“Mum says Coke rots your teeth.” Her voice was half a pitch above a whisper.

But still, longest sentence since she’d arrived. Pr
ogress.

“Yeah, she’s probably right about that.” He wracked his brains.
Bingo
. “It’s Easter next weekend, so the Easter Bunny will bring you chocolate eggs.”

Wait, did eight-year-old girls believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny still? Jade raised her chin and stared at him incredulously. Guess that was a no.

“I’m not allowed too much chocolate, or I’ll get fat.”

Ben recoiled. Fat? Where did a kid get an idea like that?

“Listen, kiddo—” The knock on his front door saved him from attempting to tackle that mine-loaded topic with
his daughter
.

Jesus Christ on a
souped-up moped. He still couldn’t get his head around the idea.

Ben leaped out of his chair and bolted for the door.

Please let it be Marci. PleaseletitbeMarci!

He wrenched open the door to Kezia with her knuc
kles poised to knock again. For a moment he forgot all about unexpected hook-ups from his past and the unexpected progeny of said hook-up.

Not a pencil skirt in sight but the brunette bombshell in front of him still blew brain-cell after brain-cell. Leggings clung to her lower curves, and the orange ca
rdigan thingy she wore acted as a beacon, directing his attention to her amazing rack. His gaze jerked up to the mass of curls spiraling over her shoulder and her lush, wide mouth. A mouth made for the kind of sin he’d dreamed of this morning before his rude awakening.

“Ben?” Dark chocolate eyes snapped with amus
ement and something else he may’ve been able to identify. If he could herd his remaining brain cells together.

Who was he kidding? When it came to this woman he couldn’t identify crap. Every time he ran into her she rendered him half mute with
baffled lust. He hadn’t a frickin’ clue what went on behind her smile.

But right now, Kezia Murphy was his savior—because Kezia knew kids. Beside her stood Zoe, a s
econd, shorter version of his redeemer. While his usual modus operandi involved avoiding any person under the age of ten, he’d never been so glad to see this mini-chatterbox in his entire life.

Ben didn’t question what they were doing on his doorstep, he just jabbered, “Come in, come in.”

Zoe stepped out of her polka-dot gumboots and walked inside. She shoved a basket into his arms. “We brought muffins. Where’s Jade?”

He started and flicked a gaze to Kezia, who shrugged.

“In the family room.”

“I’m
gonna go say hi.” Zoe streaked toward the doorway, her socks skidding on the wooden floor.

Zoe had been in his place a couple of times while Shaye babysat. They’d stopped by with some leftovers for
Shaye’s poor, domestically challenged bachelor brother. Handy having a sister who was a sous chef—her leftovers beat micro-nuked baked beans any day.

Kezia, however, had never been in his home.

“Muffins.” Ben looked down at the basket and took a whiff. Sugar and spice, but not as delicious as Kezia’s perfume. Her exotic scent wafted around him as she moved closer. “Thanks.”

From his family room drifted Zoe’s excited greeting and the softer murmur of his daughter. Kezia laid a hand on his forearm and he froze.

“A bit of a shocking morning for you, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

She squeezed his arm and dropped her hand away. “Have you eaten? Had your three cups of breakfast coffee?”

He mustered a faint grin. “Heard about that, did you?”

“Shaye’s mentioned your caffeine addiction.”

His stomach growled and she laughed, a smoky chuckle that rolled over his frazzled nerves like silk.

“Point me to your kitchen, and I’ll make you some coffee to go with the muffins.”

She partially turned away from him, and before he could stop himself he grabbed her wrist.

“Kezia,” he blurted. Her gaze locked with his. “I can’t do this.”

Chapter
2

Kezia stared up at him, fighting to keep her jaw from sagging. The top of her head only reached his chest—his really big chest, framed by broad shoulders and cut biceps.
Delizioso
!

Ben’s face, ruggedly arresting but by no means pre
tty-boy handsome, creased into harsh lines as he glanced toward the family room and Zoe’s chirpy voice.

“I don’t know anything about being that kid’s dad.” He scraped a hand over bed-rumpled, sandy brown hair.

“You’ll learn, Ben. And you’ve friends and family who’ll help.”

He made a low rumble in his throat and shrugged, so crestfallen that she stepped forward and hugged him. That’s what she did when one of her four older brothers got upset. She ignored all their machismo
bullpucky and hugged the hell out of them.

Kezia’s breasts brushed the hard wall of Ben’s body and warmth spread in concentric circles outward, pric
kling pleasurably across her skin. Oh my. Part of her wanted to cuddle closer like a kitten, but then his abdominal muscles contracted on a sharp inhale, his body pulling away a fraction. She froze, nose to a tee shirt scented with lemon laundry detergent and freshly woken man.

A man who was not one of her brothers.

She jerked away, her hands sliding from around the taut, unyielding flesh at his waist. Shoving her fists in her cardigan pockets, she dropped her gaze. Ben still clutched the basket of muffins in one white-knuckled fist.

Awwk-warrd
, as Zoe would’ve sing-songed.

Stretching a tight smile on her lips, she backed up another step. “So. Coffee?”

“Kezia?” A little rough, a little edgy, the questioning note in his voice went unanswered as Zoe popped through the family room doorway, dragging Jade behind her.

Saved from imminent humiliation.
Thank you, bella
.

“Mamma, can we have a muffin? Jade’s starving.”

“If it’s okay with Jade’s . . .” What would Ben call himself? Kezia glanced sidelong to where he leaned against the wall—tall, stoic, and smooth as black ice. “With Ben.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Jade, this is Ms. Murphy. She’s Zoe’s mum and a teacher at the school.”

Jade’s eyes remained downcast, her hand limp in Zoe’s grasp. “Hello, Ms. Murphy.”

Sympathy for the girl overshadowed her previous embarrassment. “You can call me Kezia.”

“Okay.” The girl twisted one pigtail around and around her finger.

“How about some hot chocolates?” Ben asked.

“Yes, please!” Zoe squeezed Jade’s hand and whispered something in her ear.

Jade nodded and tucked closer to Zoe’s side.

“Come on through.” Ben gestured to the door behind the girls.

Kezia followed them into a large sunny room, dom
inated by a dark-red leather couch and a flat-screen TV. Sliding glass doors opened onto a wide deck, with unobstructed views of Oban and the choppy waters of Halfmoon Bay harbor. The connected family room and kitchen were decorated in the style she’d expected, comfortable and masculine, but not boring. Not with the two enormous canvases mounted on the wall.