Page 9 of Baby for My Best Friend's Brother

“I’m not cut out for this,” Cliff mutters under his breath as he pretends to eat a plastic hamburger.

“Actually you are.” I grin at him. “The kids love you.”

“That’s because I let them use me as a jungle gym.”

I watch as another one of the boys demands to be picked up. Once he’s hoisted up, he cuddles against Cliff’s chest, and sighs.

“That’s not the only reason.” I swallow past a lump in my throat. “It’s because they trust you.”

He glances at me, and something I can’t quite decipher flickers in his eyes. “Well, I try to be a safe person.”

I swear, I can practically feel my ovaries pinging. Forget IVF. I’m going to end up pregnant standing here watching Cliff in total Dad Mode. Not that I can say that.

One of the girls tugs on my arm, calling, “Mommy, mommy, mommy.”

“Yes, my darling?” I ask.

“Mommy, you and Daddy have to kiss now.”

My heart stutters. “What?”

“It’s the rules,” she insists. “Every mommy and daddy kisses when they play house.”

“Rules are rules,” Cliff says seriously. A twinkle in his eye gives away his real thoughts.

Fully committed now, the kids chant: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

We exchange a look. He lifts an eyebrow in silent challenge. Daring me to chicken out.

“Okay.” I try to sound though my heart is hammering out of my chest. “I can give Daddy a kiss. For the game.”

“Right.” Cliff nods. “For the game.”

Setting down the children in his arms, he steps closer to me. He flattens his palm against my lower back, pulling me close. My body thrums at his touch. And delicious shivers run up and down my spine.

He leans in slowly. Giving me time to pull away. I don’t.

His lips brush mine. Softly. Gently. Barely there.

It’s chaste and completely G-rated.

But holy hell, my toes curl in my tennis shoes.

I feel it in my knees. My spine. My scalp. My soul.

Cliff pulls back slowly, eyes lingering on mine.

Half of the kids cheer. The others making gagging sounds.

“Daddy!” One of the kids wedges between us and tugs on Cliff’s flannel shirt. “I want another hamburger.”

Cliff clears his throat, suddenly very interested in the toy ketchup bottle.

I force a laugh and start pass out invisible juice boxes.

But my pulse is still racing.

Later, while the kids are off chasing bubbles, I take a moment beside him on the grass.

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