The 15 Lb. Matchmaker. Jill Limber

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      Finally he glanced up at her and spoke. “Isn’t he too young to do those things?”

      “No. He should be reaching and crawling and even pulling himself up to stand.”

      Griff rubbed his palms against his blue-jean-clad thighs and stared at Riley.

      Jolie waited for him to absorb the information, then asked gently, “What has his pediatrician told you about his development?”

      “Pediatrician?” He looked at her blankly.

      “Do you take him to your regular doctor?” Maybe he used a family practice doctor.

      Griff shrugged, still staring at the baby. “I haven’t taken him to the doctor.”

      Jolie was appalled. What about his well-baby checks and vaccinations? “Never?”

      “I just got him, okay?”

      Jolie’s head jerked up at his rough tone that didn’t quite mask the pain underneath. “What?”

      Just got him? It hadn’t occurred to her that Riley might have been living elsewhere. She assumed his ex-wife had left him and the child.

      “You heard me.” He clamped his mouth shut so tightly a muscle twitched in his jaw.

      She had heard him, and what he said made a big difference. She decided to try another approach. “Look, I know you think I’m prying, but there are things I need to know if I’m going to take care of Riley.”

      Agitated, Griff told himself he had wasted too much time eating the rabbit food she passed off as dinner, and he had heard more than enough talk. She may have a degree in some field about children, but she didn’t know what she was talking about.

      Dread he didn’t want to face had him standing up so fast his chair tipped over and crashed against the floor.

      Furious at himself for reacting to her, he jerked the chair upright and turned on her. “You are prying. There’s nothing wrong with the kid. I hired you to feed him and watch him. That’s all.”

      If he didn’t get out of the kitchen he was going to say something he’d regret about her nosy ways. He walked out the door, leaving her with her pretty little mouth hanging open.

      Griff stopped in the middle of the yard and ran his hands through his hair. It was a wonder he could keep his temper at all around her. She was a managing kind of female with a body that made him want to weep.

      There was nothing wrong with Riley. If there had been, the social worker would have said something.

      The problem was her. It had to be her. He couldn’t handle it if it wasn’t.

      Exhaustion dragged at him. It would be hours tonight before they finished riding the fence line. He tipped his head back and stared at the stars, just starting to show in the evening sky.

      He had awakened several times last night with the thought that she was sleeping just down the hall. Usually when he was working as hard as he had been lately, he slept like a rock.

      He was horny, tired and hungry. None of the conditions improved his disposition.

      Last night, on his way back to the house, he had decided that he wasn’t going to sleep with her. He had learned the hard way that the hotter his blood ran for a woman, the colder his bed was when she left.

      The decision seemed reasonable until he was in the same room with her.

      To get his mind off her sweet little body, he thought about what she had said about his nephew.

      She was wrong about Riley. The kid was fine. Just quiet, like him.

      There was such a thing as too much education, and he suspected that was Jolie Carleton’s problem. She wanted to see things that weren’t there.

      Riley had looked okay to Griff, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. The kid didn’t need toys. He didn’t play with the spoons and stuff he had. And if he hadn’t started to crawl yet, that just made her job easier. She didn’t have to chase after him.

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