He settled Sharon Lynn into her high chair, found a soft toy bear to entertain her, and searched through the cabinets. Nothing conclusive there beyond an assortment of frosted cereals that seemed more likely to appeal to a one-year-old than her mother. Then again, he didn’t know much about Melissa’s breakfast habits, either. On the rare occasions when they’d slept in the same bed before he’d left for Wyoming, breakfast had been the last thing on their minds first thing in the morning.

A glance in the refrigerator suggested that juice might be a good place to start. He recalled buying an awful lot of apple juice at the store. He filled a bottle and handed it over. Sharon Lynn tossed her bear on the floor and accepted it eagerly.

Scrambled eggs struck him as a safe bet. Besides, he and Melissa could eat them, as well. Fixing one meal for all of them appealed to him. It struck him as cozy; a family tradition of sorts. Their very first.

He started the coffeemaker, popped four slices of bread into the toaster, put butter and jelly on the table, then broke half a dozen eggs into a bowl and whipped them with a fork until they were foamy. Suddenly he heard the faint sound of footsteps behind him. He pivoted around and discovered Melissa leaning against the doorjamb.

“My goodness, you’ve been busy,” she murmured, yawning and bending over to pick up the bear Sharon Lynn had tossed aside in favor of her juice. “How long have you been awake?”

Goose bumps chased down his spine at the sleepy sound of her voice and the sight of that cute little fanny draped in a very short, very revealing, silk robe.

“Our daughter’s better than any rooster I ever heard. She woke me at the crack of dawn.”

“Obviously she’s feeling better,” Melissa said, going over to touch her hand to the baby’s forehead. “No more temperature.”

“Seemed that way to me, too.”

“Did you take it?”

He shook his head, drawing a grin.

“Turning into an old hand already,” she teased. “No more panicking.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, shuddering at the memory of that icy fear that had washed through him in the wee hours of the morning. “But I am going to borrow that book of yours and read it from cover to cover.”

He reached for Melissa’s hand and pulled her toward him. He was vaguely surprised that she didn’t put up a struggle. Maybe he hadn’t imagined the closeness between them the night before.

When she was standing toe-to-toe with him, he had to resist the temptation to tug the belt of her robe free. Instead he brushed a strand of hair back from her face and gazed into her tired eyes.