Her gaze drifted down to the baby he was holding awkwardly, out and away from his body. He flashed a small, baffled grin at her. “He needs changing. I tried to get the nurses to do it, but they said I needed the practice. It’s scary stuff holding a wiggling baby in the palm of my hand.”

“That’s not the right way to hold him, Jake,” she counseled gently. “You want to keep his body close up against yours so he feels safe.”

“He’s wet.” Jake made a face.

“He’s the baby, not you. Put him on the bed so you can change him.”

Jake couldn’t get the diaper on to save his life. He put the boy down on the bed beside Emma as he worked, all thumbs, to get the diaper to stay on. The moment he lifted the infant, the covering would slip off and fall to the bed. The baby wailed in protest, little arms flailing about in the air while Jake made a production of raking his hands through his hair and breathing hard.

“You aren’t doing it right.” Emma’s voice was tinged with amusement.

Jake felt triumph burst through him, but he kept an agitated, helpless frown on his face. “I can see that,” he admitted, gritting his teeth. “There seems to be some secret eluding me.” He kept one hand on the baby’s stomach to prevent him from falling off the edge of the bed and glanced at Emma.

The louder the baby cried and the more he squirmed, the more color seemed to come into her pale face. Jake could see she was getting distressed watching his apparent ineptness.

She leaned toward the baby. “Let me.”

Jake allowed himself to sink down onto the bed beside her. “I don’t know if you should be moving around too much.”

“It’s just my leg,” Emma said. She winced as she tried to shift her injured limb beneath the blankets, stretching out to sit up straighter.

Jake sighed. “Here. You take the wet boy and I’ll move your leg for you.”

He practically dumped the baby into her arms, sagging diaper and all, before reaching under the covers and half lifting her to pull her into a more comfortable position. “How’s that?”

Emma nodded without answering Jake, looking down instead into the baby’s face. He looked like his father. His eyes. Not the normal fuzzy blue color of most newborn’s but rather serious golden eyes that didn’t smile. That was what bothered her about Jake. His voice was expressive, and sometimes his mouth smiled or frowned, but there was no emotion in his eyes. And there was little in his son’s eyes. As if the boy already had suffered too much pain and sorrow. She knew about that and didn’t want the infant to start out his life in sadness.

“It’s all right, little one,” she murmured softly. “No one’s ever going to hurt you.”

Jake’s head jerked around. “Don’t promise him that. Don’t tell him lies.” His voice was harsh, and he reached for the infant, dragging him out of her arms.

Emma studied his face. There was something there. Finally. Real emotion. In his eyes. A dark, twisted pain that she glimpsed briefly before he blinked and it was gone, as if it had never been. Deep. Wrong. Glittering with menace. Making her heart pound with dread. Jake Bannaconni was a very dangerous man.

Jake looked down as the little boy squirmed in his hands and for the first time Jake actually saw him. The boy had his eyes and a wild tuft of dark hair. There was intelligence in those antique-gold eyes, so much that Jake found himself running his fingers over the boy’s hands, searching for evidence of anything unusual beneath that soft baby skin. The tiny bones felt perfect, although birdlike. The baby stopped crying to watch him with those unblinking cat’s eyes.

“People lie,” he said gruffly. “I’ll do my best to protect you, but people can’t be trusted.”

“Jake.” Emma’s voice was soft with compassion. “He doesn’t need to be taught that right now. He just needs to feel safe and secure, to have his diapers changed and food in his tummy. Most of all he needs to be surrounded with love.”

Jake’s belly knotted at that word. Everyone made claims of loving everything and everybody, but in reality it was all about what they could get. At least he was honest with himself. He wanted Emma to look at him the way she had looked at Andrew. He was willing to use any weapon in his vast arsenal to get what he wanted. He looked down at his son, knowing right at that moment that the infant was his best choice, better even than money.

Jake forced a smile as he laid the child down directly in front of Emma. “Who knew changing diapers could be so difficult?” He handed her the diaper. “I named him Kyle,” he added.

“Is that a family name?” Emma asked.

“No,” he responded tersely, took a breath and tried to soften it. “No, I just liked the name.”

Emma’s lashes fluttered. “Well, it’s a beautiful name.” She put her finger in the tiny hand of the baby and Kyle instantly closed his hand around hers. “He’s beautiful.”

“Yes, he is.” Jake really looked at his son, a little in awe. The tiny, perfect face, his legs kicking with such force. Before, he’d thought of him as wriggling and red, but now he took note of the boy’s features, the catlike eyes, the bowed mouth and the tuft of dark hair. He found himself smiling. “He really is, isn’t he? But he’s so little, he scares me.” There was some truth in that as well. “I’ve never held a baby, let alone been responsible for one. I feel like I’m all thumbs.”