Sheriff Needs a Nanny by Teresa Carpenter

interminable torture.
    “I’m only here for you.” She leaned over Mickey. “And let’s get one thing clear up front. I don’t do needles—uh-uh, nada , no way. If there are shots involved, your daddy is on his own. In fact—” she flipped a block with her finger “—this is the perfect opportunity for father and son to go it alone. Yep, the two of you can bond over tongue depressors.”
    Mickey picked up the block to hand to her, but dropped it instead. He gave a small mew and shifted to look over the side of the stroller, then shifted his hopefulgaze to her. He looked so angelic, with his little bow mouth, baby-soft skin and windblown curls.
    She handed him the fallen block and earned a smile. She sighed. “Okay, for you I can probably hang tough. But only if your dad asks for help. Otherwise I’m staying put.”
    “Daddy.” He grinned.
    “That’s right. You and your dad are a team.”
    He went back to his blocks, and she returned to flipping leisurely through an entertainment magazine. She and three other women sat in navy short backed chairs. The walls and carpeting were beige on beige. An overflowing toy chest in the corner provided the only splash of brightness in the bland room.
    The outside door opened and, like every other woman in the room with a sick child, looking for a distraction, Nikki glanced up. And, like every other woman in the room, her heart quickened at the sight of Trace. His broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped frame neatly filled the opening. His air of authority and control—elements he wore as easily as he did the crisp khaki uniform and gun belt—preceded him into the room. And shot up the temperature of every woman within viewing distance.
    How unfair was it that the best-looking man in a fifty-mile radius had to be her boss? Not only did that put him both professionally and contractually off-limits, but the man was as disconnected from commitment as it was possible to be.
    She sighed, and resigned herself to being his friend.At least he was finally here, and they could get this appointment over with.
    The clock over the receptionist’s head read two-fifteen exactly. The perky blonde hopped to her feet, her bright smile aimed at Trace. “Sheriff Oliver? The doctor is ready to see Carmichael.”
    Wasn’t that convenient? Nikki met Trace’s gaze and slowly stood. The flash of panic, so unlike him, revealed a vulnerability she couldn’t ignore. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
    “Yes, please.” He took control of the stroller and followed the nurse to an examination room.
    Trace quickly expressed his concerns to Dr. Wilcox, sparing himself not at all.
    An older man, with a ring of graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses, the doctor listened intently, nodding occasionally.
    “Well, let’s see what the real damage is.” Dr. Wilcox smiled at Mickey, who scowled back at the man. With good reason. The doctor asked Nikki to strip the baby, and the poking and prodding began.
    For a usually docile child, Mickey certainly made his displeasure known, twisting and turning so Nikki almost lost her grip on the boy.
    “Here, let me have him.” Trace stepped forward to trade places with her. He easily held the boy in place, but Mickey’s distress only increased. He lifted his little arms toward Trace. “Daddy.”
    Trace’s jaw clenched, but he stayed tough.
    Thankfully, the doctor soon ended the exam. “Okay,you can dress him.” He picked up his chart. “Do you know what inoculations he’s had?”
    Nikki stepped forward to dress Mickey.
    Trace reached in his pocket. “I went by my in-laws’ place this morning and found a few things. This is a list of the immunizations he’s had. I also called his pediatrician there, and asked for a copy of his file to be sent to you.”
    “Thanks. That’ll be helpful.” Dr. Wilcox looked over his glasses to scan the list Trace handed him. “And this looks current.” He sat back and folded his arms over a barrel-size chest. “You can calm