The Man Behind the Badge by Sharon Archer

a misguided attempt to impress but she knew it would be unfair. He was too relaxed, Emma was too comfortable, too familiar with him for it to be a rare event.
    Tom Jamieson was genuine. Kayla’s heart gave a painful squeeze. Strength and tenderness all wrapped up in a ruggedly attractive package.
    She was charmed and dismayed in equal measure. His treatment of Ryan and Emma pierced her careful safeguards, leaving her feeling unsettled, susceptible. She was really seeing him, being forced to put aside her preconceived ideas about who he was.
    How odd that this weekend of competitive rough-and-tumble sport should showcase such extraordinary sensitivity. The sooner it was over the better. Back in the hospital flat, in town and working—that was what she needed so she could get some perspective.
    ‘Cluck-ee.’
    Kayla rolled her eyes to find Tom’s amused gaze on her.
    ‘She’ll find something new soon.’
    ‘Promise?’ She managed a smile. ‘Though perhaps you’re right. I shouldn’t complain. The next thing she latches onto might be worse.’
    ‘With a bit of luck, you won’t have to worry about her chattering tonight. With all the fresh air and running around today, she must be worn out. She’ll be out like a light after tea.’
    As though she’d understood his words, Emma yawned hugely and her head drooped onto Tom’s shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. Tom tilted his head and laid his cheek on the snuggling toddler’s hair. Kayla’s heart melted. She tried to imagine her own father carrying Maddy or herself the way Tom held Emma.
    The picture wouldn’t come. If her father had a softer side, she and Maddy had never seen it.
    Tom’s short dark hair was damp and sleek, and she realised he must have found time to bathe between helping to set up for the evening and coming to collect her.
    No shave, though. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw. It looked good on him. She’d felt it when he’d bent to kiss her on the cheek. Along with a soft warmth and a hint of moisture with the brush of his lips. She raised her fingers to her face, remembering. For the tiniest, maddest moment she’d wanted to turn her head, feel that pressure and heat on her mouth.
    With his free hand, Tom reached out to capture hers and she forgot all about Emma’s word obsession. Pleasantly rough skin slid over hers until they were palm to palm. It had been years since she’d held hands with anyone and she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed it. The few men she’d dated had considered themselves too sophisticated for the simple public gesture.
    In this peaceful bush setting, she felt suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of contrasting stimuli. The size and brawny strength of the man beside her, his undeniable masculinity…and yet his poignant gentleness.
    And then there was the example of her friends. Jack, so tall and strong…and yet his tenderness with Liz and Emma.
    It wasn’t…right. It wasn’t…the way things were between men and women, between men and children. Her experiences hadn’t prepared her for the possibility of beauty and softness in the interactions of strong males with those physically weaker than themselves.
    Tom’s hand on hers acted as an anchor while she struggled to deal with her impressions.
    ‘All right?’ he murmured, as though he sensed her turmoil. And his acute sensitivity to her in this moment just made it worse.
    ‘Of course.’ Her throat was raw, her voice rough. She managed a tight smile.
    Just as well Tom had reiterated his promise to be on his best behaviour. It was her own impulses that she was starting to worry about.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    K AYLA suppressed a quiver as Tom’s breath whispered over the tender skin of her ear. ‘Prepare yourself to be welcomed into the Jamieson family fold,’ he murmured. ‘This is all your family?’ she said, looking around at the laughing, talking crowd. Several children were happily playing a chasing game in and around the standing adults and a group of men holding