Free SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... by Mary Margret Daughtridge Page B

wails escalated to screams. "No! The hurr'cane's going to get us! We have to run away! Let me go!"
    Jax held the little flailing hands in one big hand, confining the squirming body in one muscular arm. The ease with which he held the child was apparent, as was the fact that he only used enough strength to confine, not overpower.
    Ruddiness stained Jax's bronze cheeks. "I'm sorry about this meltdown. His grandmother is the nervous sort. She really managed to scare him."
    Unless Pickett missed her guess, what his grandmother was, was the idiotic sort, who was not happy that Jax was going to Pickett's and had attempted to manipulate the situation by getting Tyler upset. That was low.
    Pickett made her decision.
    "Tyler," Pickett used the voice a client once said was steel encased in goose down. "Tyler, look at me." Drowned gray eyes peered at her from the reddened, tear-streaked face. "Now feel your daddy's arms. Your daddy's arms are warm, aren't they? And you can feel how strong they are." The little body relaxed slightly, allowing the strength to hold him. "Your daddy will keep you safe. Your grandmother was scared of the hurricane and so she had to run away. But your daddy is not scared, he is strong and he can keep you safe. Now let's get your things in the house, because we have a lot to do."
    In the house she introduced Tyler to Lucy and Patterson, and assured him that she really did have a duck. Quackers was nowhere to be seen but would show up at dinner time.
    "I think I'll let the two of you share my room and I'll use the day bed in my office," she forestalled Jax's protest with a wave. "I'm afraid you'd be pretty miserable on the day bed and Tyler will be more secure in a strange place if you're with him. Anyway, it's only for one night."

    Jax shouldered the luggage and followed Pickett down the cool, dim hall, admiring the view of Pickett's backside.
    Who would have thought those classically restrained slacks and man-tailored blouses concealed a lush, utterly feminine body? Full breasts tapered to tiny waist then flared again to rounded butt, softly hugged by green running shorts.
    Her legs were all shapely curves flowing from trim ankles to substantial thighs. He knew women worried about heavy thighs but personally he found that evidence of womanly strength erotic.
    He jerked his mind from the implications of strong, yet soft thighs, and made himself take in the furnishings of the room.
    The antique four-poster was piled with the most pillows Jax had ever seen.
    "Plus je vois les hommes, plus j'adore mes chiens." He read the saying on the pale green needlepoint pillow in the center.
    "The more I know about men, the more I love my dogs," he translated. He gave a snort of laughter, and turned to Pickett. "I wouldn't have figured you for a misanthrope."
    "That's a housewarming present made by my sister Lyle who lives in New York. I think she meant it as a joke, although with Lyle you're never sure." She tilted her head. "You recognized the quote. Are you fluent in French?"
    He nodded absently. "Why so many pillows?"
    Was she blushing? What brought that on? Her eyes moved from the bed to him a couple of times. She shrugged. "I like pillows. But feel free to move any that you don't want." She put her hand on the doorknob. "I'll leave you to get settled. Be aware that this house was built long before central heat, so every room, including the bathroom, opens into the adjoining room as well as into the hall. For privacy, make sure you close both doors."
    The latch clicked behind her. She liked pillows. Standard pillows, a long pillow that crossed the width of the bed, big pillows, and small fluffy pillows. Pillows of plush velvet and pillows covered with crocheted lace. Jax felt his body tighten, again. He could imagine her naked, her peach skin bare against that white lacy cover-thing, as she curled among all those pillows.
    Whoa. That was so not going to happen. There was no reason to pursue women who might have regrets