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Jillian looked at Zane’s weary eyes, rumpled clothes, and electric-chair hairdo. Obviously, his small charges had run him through the blender. Under less serious circumstances, she might have laughed. Worry about what Mrs. Stevens would think killed the urge. Her gaze settled on three gigantic boxes of extra-strength ibuprofen stacked on the counter. “Rough afternoon?”
“You could say that.” Zane heaved a sigh. “I don’t know how you moms do it day after day. There’s not enough ibuprofen in the western hemisphere.”
Mrs. Stevens gave him a thin smile. “Parenthood isn’t for cowards.”
“You can tattoo that on my aching forehead.” Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure you’ll find the living room much more comfortable while I clean up here.”
Mrs. Stevens shifted her briefcase to the other hand. “I’d like to speak to you alone first. After that I’ll speak to both of you together, then Casey, then Jillian.”
Zane nodded. “All right. How about some iced tea? There’s a pitcher in the fridge.”
Mrs. Stevens cast a dubious glance at Robbie, naked and submerged to the armpit in purple Kool-Aid.
Zane flashed one of his irresistible smiles. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Stevens, Jillian made the tea.”
Mrs. Stevens chuckled dryly. “In that case, I’d love some.”
“Have a seat in the living room. I’ll bring it in.”
The other woman strolled out, and Jillian set her purse on the counter, carefully avoiding the mess. “How did you end up with the dynamic duo?”
“I’m still not quite sure. It was a sneak blitz.”
Jillian frowned. “I saw their mother’s car pull into their driveway as I headed in. Casey and I can walk them home while you talk to Mrs. Stevens.”
“What kind of read did you get on her?”
“She seems firmly no-nonsense, but hopefully, she’s open-minded.”
“Perfect time for her to show up.” He waved at the trashed kitchen. “She’s gonna fry my ass.”
Jillian decided not to admit her anxiety that the caseworker would do just that. “She’s familiar with the ways of children. Have faith.”
He grimaced. “Damn, the world must look all bright and shiny through rose-colored glasses.”
“You can borrow them anytime you’d like.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’ll take the boys home. Go charm the skirt off Mrs. Stevens.”
He peered through the doorway and hissed a soft curse. “Maybe literally. She just sat on the wet couch cushion.”
“How did the couch—” She clamped her lips together. “Never mind.”
Jillian tried to set aside stomach-churning concern while she shook out Robbie’s sugar-coated clothes and dressed him, then she and Casey hustled the boys home. Beneath the dented armor, her shadowed knight had a kind heart, courageous spirit and impeccable honor. If Mrs. Stevens was any judge of character she couldn’t fail to see Zane’s true nature.
Jillian and Casey returned via the back door. She fixed Casey a sandwich and a glass of milk and settled him at the table. While the child ate, she fidgeted. How long would the caseworker talk to Zane? She poured an iced tea but didn’t drink it.
After an eternity, Zane called her into the living room.
She turned to Casey, who was now coloring. “Casey, please stay at the table for a little bit, okay?”
Tea in hand, she strode in, forcing a confident smile. She sat close to Zane on the sofa, conscious of the need for a unified appearance. Though he appeared outwardly relaxed, tension radiated from his lean-muscled frame.
Opposite them in the overstuffed chair, Mrs. Stevens sipped her tea. “So when do the two of you plan to inform Casey that Zane is his biological father?”
Jillian shot a nervous glance at the kitchen before looking at Zane. Holy crap, what if Casey overheard?
Because she understood Zane’s thoughts nearly as well as her own by now, she recognized the flare ofwhen-hell-hosts-an-ice-skating-partyin his eyes.
She licked dry lips and jumped in to answer, “When he’s emotionally secure enough that the news won’t adversely affect him.” The caseworker didn’t need to know Jillian wasn’t referring to the child, but his father.
