Zach couldn't drag his eyes off Julia Sinclair's legs propped atop the sterile white hospital blankets.
The allure of those legs blindsided him like a bogey from his six o'clock. Granted, they were mighty incredible. Likely the best he'd ever seen—long, slim, with just the right mix of toned muscle and soft curves.
Awesome legs he had no business checking out.
His gaze snapped up to her face—her very surprised face. And she didn't know the half of it. One hint of all the images churning through his head, and she would bash him over the head with a flower arrangement.
One hint that he was mired in an investigation of her husband, and she would do more than bash him over the head.
Zach looked away, studying the It's a Boy balloon bobbing beside a plastic pitcher as if it held a full flight plan inscribed on its blue surface. He didn't speak. Apologizing for his unguarded stare could only make the situation more awkward.
Julia eased to her feet, standing almost eye-level with him, a novelty for Zach as he usually developed a crick in his neck from leaning when he talked to a woman.
Or kissed a woman.
The bogey was damned persistent today.
Julia spiked her fingers through her short blond waves. A flicker of confusion shifted through her dewy green eyes before she turned from him. "Ivy's card will look just right tucked between the roses from the Clarks and the plant from the squadron.">He cleared his throat, but didn't move. The normally confident man hesitated. "Sorry.
Didn't mean to interrupt the baby's, uh, eating."
A tingle of realization prickled at her scalp.
Uh-oh. Worse than barefoot, she'd forgotten she was also too darn close to being bare-breasted.
Heat crawled all the way from her toes straight up over her half-covered chest to her nose. Thank goodness Patrick's snoozing face covered as much as any bathing suit. "He's just sleeping, not eating, I mean not yet anyway."
The commander's gaze darted everywhere around the room—everywhere she wasn't. "I can come back later."
Julia stifled the urge to shout a resounding acceptance of his offer to hightail it to the nearest elevator. Women breastfed in public every day, after all. "Don't go. Just give me a second to..." Get dressed? Put away her breasts? "Just give me a second."
"Sure, no problem." He turned, his profile backlit by the fluorescent glow from the hall.
The hard angles of his face shadowed forbiddingly, another difference from Lance. Her husband had been light-hearted, easygoing—and so blasted good-looking some had labeled him downright pretty.
No one would ever dare call Zach Dawson pretty.
Rugged. Magnetic. Starkly attractive like the no-nonsense Texas desert he hailed from.
But never pretty.
Julia jerked her gaze away. The poor guy would fall asleep standing in her doorway if she didn't stop daydreaming. She secured the last button and cradled Patrick in her arms. "All set. Sorry about that."
He pivoted on his boot heel toward her again. "No need to apologize or be embarrassed."
A half smile tipped his craggy face as he circled around a discarded IV pole. "It hasn't been so long since Shelby and Ivy were that size nursing round the clock."
Great. Even Zach Dawson knew more about breastfeeding than she did.
Julia gave herself a mental shake. She refused to surrender to self-pity in front of him.
Maybe the best way to ward off those weepy hormones might be to resort to the teasing that had become the hallmark of their relationship over the last few months. "Thanks.
You're a doll to make me feel better."
"A doll?" One brow arched up into his coal-dark hairline.
This man was far from being anyone's kewpie doll, but it was fun wringing a smile from him. And she could use some fun today. "Absolutely. Hasn't anyone ever called you that before?'