“A Celibate Marriage?” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Epilogue Copyright

“A Celibate Marriage?”

Tom Asked.

Kate sniffed and pulled her dress over her head. Wriggling into it, she shook her hair back from her face and stared at him. “At first, Tom, yes.”

“At first?” He clung to those two words like a drowning man snatching at a piece of driftwood.

“I just think it would be best if we didn’t sleep together right away. If we took our time.”

He cocked his head and looked at her through wary eyes. “How much time?”

“I don’t know. However long it takes for us to get to know each other. Become friends.”

A snort of laughter shot from his lungs. “Friends...”

“What’s wrong with that?” she asked, glaring at him.

“Kate,” Tom said, giving her a slow up-and-down look. “I’ve got lots of friends, and not one of them makes me want to strip them naked and carry them off to the forest primeval.”

Dear Reader

April brings showers, and this month Silhouette Desire wants to shower you with six new, passionate love stories!

Cait London’s popular Blaylock family returns in our April MAN OF THE MONTH title, Blaylock’s Bride. Honorable Roman Blaylock grapples with a secret that puts him in a conflict between confiding in the woman he loves and fulfilling a last wish.

The provocative series FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE BRIDES continues with Leanne Banks’s The Secretary and the Millionaire, when a wealthy CEO turns to his assistant for help in caring for his little girl.

Beverly Barton’s next tale in her 3 BABIES FOR 3 BROTHERS miniseries. His Woman, His Child, shows a rugged heartbreaker transformed by the heroine’s pregnancy Powerful sheikhs abound in Sheikh’s Ransom, the Desire debut title of Alexandra Sellers’s dramatic new series, SONS OF THE DESERT A marine gets a second chance at love in Colonel Daddy, continuing

Maureen Child’s popular series BACHELOR BATTALION. And in Christy Lockhart’s Let’s Have a Baby!, our BACHELORS AND BABIES selection, the hero must dissuade the heroine from going to a sperm bank and convince her to let him father her child—the old-fashioned way!

Allow Silhouette Desire to give you the ultimate indulgence—all six of these fabulous April romance books!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor. Silhouette Desire

Please address question and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadians P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Colonel Daddy

Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MAUREEN CHILD was born and raised in Southern California and is the only person she knows who longs for an occasional change of season. She is delighted to be writing for Silhouette Books, and is especially excited to be a part of the Desire line.

An avid reader, she looks forward to those rare rainy California days when she can curl up and sink into a good book. Or two. When she isn’t busy writing, she and her husband of twenty-five years like to travel, leaving their two grown children in charge of the neurotic golden retriever who is the real head of the household. Maureen is also an award-winning historical writer under the names Kathleen Kane and Ann Carberry.

To my editor, Karen Taylor Richman, for her support and her belief in me. Thanks for everything, Karen.

One

“Major Jennings to see you, sir,” the young corporal said over the intercom.

Colonel Tom Candello pushed a button and said, “Send her in.”

He sat back in his chair, his gaze locked on the door across from him. Major Katherine Jennings. Kate. Instantly his mind filled with erotic images. Memories of their last R and R together.

A week in Japan and they’d hardly left the hotel. But it had been like that between them since they’d first met in Hawaii three years ago. A week-long, incredible affair had led to them deciding to meet again the following year. And then the year after. It was always the same. They arranged their leave time to coincide, met at an agreed-upon location, and surrendered to the overwhelming passion they’d found in each other.

And except for that one week a year, they led separate lives. Each of them were career Marines, but they were posted at different bases, thousands of miles from each other, which kept them from ever crossing paths.

Until recently.

Two months ago, Kate had been transferred to Camp Pendleton, California. His base. His command. Now she was not only his once-a-year lover, she was one of his officers. He’d hardly seen her since she arrived. But for one or two brief meetings, where they were surrounded by other Marines, he hadn’t really spoken to her since their last morning in Japan.

He stood up abruptly, pushed one hand through his short, black hair and walked to the window. Staring out at the base, he told himself to get rid of the mental images he carried of Kate, naked in bed, her arms held up to welcome him. This wasn’t Japan. This wasn’t even R and R. This was work, and their two worlds were about to collide.

He felt as though he was on a speeding train heading for a cliff. The brakes were out, and there was no stopping the disaster looming just ahead. All he could do was hang on and wait for it.

A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts. He turned around, pulled in a deep breath and raced over the edge of the precipice. “Come in.”

The door swung open, she stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her. Then she was there. Standing in his office.

At attention.

“Good afternoon, Colonel,” she said stiffly, her right hand slanted in a perfect salute.

“Major,” he said and returned her salute, despite feeling a bit awkward about saluting a woman whose body he had explored intimately, thoroughly. “At ease.”

She relaxed instantly and his gaze swept over her. Dark green, brimmed cap settled firmly on her head, her short blond hair curled under to lie just along her jawline. Her khaki uniform blouse was starched and ironed to perfection, and a row of ribbons and commendations lay just atop her left breast Her slim, straight dark skirt stopped just above her knees and she wore regulation high heels that did amazing things for her legs.

He lifted his gaze to her face before he could torture himself further with memories of those legs wrapped around him, holding his body within her tight, damp heat. Damn, this was not going to be easy.

Clearing his throat, Tom spoke up. “Kate, it’s good to see you.” The understatement of the century, he thought, and tried to will his hardened body into submission.

“Thomas,” she started and he had to smile. She was the only person he knew who always called him Thomas.

He took a step toward her, but she backed up and held out one hand toward him, palm up, to stop him.

“Thomas, we have to talk.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, knowing she was right to keep her distance. Ever since the day they’d met, there had been fireworks between them. Distance was their only hope. “We do. Kate, we can work with this situation,” Tom said. “We’re both professionals. Our private time together doesn’t have to intrude on our careers.”

She took off her hat, tossed it onto a nearby chair, then ran her fingers through her hair. He thought he detected a glimmer of a wry grin before her expression evened out again.

“I’m afraid that ship has sailed, Thomas,” she told him softly.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, not really sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Do you remember that last night in Japan?” she asked, gripping her hands in front of her waist so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Remember it? he wanted to say. The memories still kept him awake at night, his body hard, his mind filled with thoughts of her. They’d toasted each other over a bottle of champagne and spent an hour deciding where they would meet the following year, finally settling on Copenhagen. Then they’d gone out to the balcony of their ridiculously expensive hotel suite and made love under the stars for hours. The memories were so fresh, so ingrained on his mind, Thomas could almost smell the sea air, taste the champagne he’d dribbled onto her nipples and then licked off as she writhed beneath him, moaning his name.

He groaned silently as his body tightened uncomfortably. Aloud, he said only, “Yeah. I remember.”

His gaze locked on her face, he saw that she, too, was recalling that night. And if he didn’t know better, he’d swear that Major Kate Jennings was blushing. But Kate didn’t have an inhibited bone in her gorgeous body, so that couldn’t be right.

As their gazes met and held, he began to feel the first twinges of misgiving. She didn’t look like a woman who’d just dropped in on her lover for a little stroll down memory lane. “What’s this about, Kate?” he asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

As he watched, her pale complexion went shades lighter. Not a good sign. She sucked in a gulp of air like a drowning woman, then blurted, “I’m pregnant, Thomas.”

Was that an earthquake?

Tom would have sworn the room had just trembled around him. He shook his head and flicked an uneasy glance at the framed picture of the President, hanging on the wall nearest him. Nope. The picture wasn’t swaying. There was no loud, trainlike rumble of sound.

So. It wasn’t the earth shaking.

It was him.

Katherine stared at him and watched several different expressions slide across his features. Stunned shock. Disbelief. Anxiety. And finally, acceptance. She recognized all of them. Hadn’t she seen the very same expressions staring back at her in the mirror only a month ago?

She hadn’t wanted to believe that early pregnancy test kit. At the time, she had still been so stressed from being transferred to Thomas’s base, she’d assumed that stress was messing up her cycle. After all, it wasn’t going to be easy to face her new commanding officer when that officer had seen her naked. So naturally, she’d bought a few more kits, hoping for a different result. But as she’d stared down at the four little test wands, each of them with a neatly stamped plus sign staring back at her, Kate had had to accept the truth.

She was single, thirty-two years old, a major in the Marines and pregnant for the first time.

Now, after living with the secret for a month, she waited to hear her lover’s reaction.

“How did this happen?” he said, almost to himself.

Her eyebrows lifted as she looked at him. “You said you remembered the balcony.”

“I do.”

“Then you also remember how neither of us wanted to get up and go inside for another condom.”

He rubbed one hand across his face as that one defining moment reared up in his mind. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah.” Unable to stand still another moment, Kate started pacing. Her high heels clicked against the linoleum floor, sounding like a rapidfire heartbeat.

Strange, she’d thought the burden of this secret would be lightened by sharing it. But nothing had changed. She was still facing a situation she had no idea how to handle.

And added to that, she couldn’t help worrying about what Thomas would say when he recovered from the initial shock.

Her career, her life, hung in the balance and seemed to be resting precariously on a tipped pair of scales. She’d spent nearly fourteen years in the Corps, building a career and a reputation to be proud of. It was all she knew. All she’d ever wanted.

All she had.

Now, that was all threatened. A pregnant, married Marine was acceptable. A pregnant unmarried Marine—particularly an officer—could find herself discharged. Or at the very least disgraced and her exemplary career in ruins. At that thought, Kate winced. If she lost the Corps, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself.

Hell. She wouldn’t even know who she was.

“Kate,” Tom said from across the room, “don’t work yourself up like this. We’ll figure something out.”

She stopped short suddenly and swiveled her head to look at him. One thing she had to make perfectly clear right from the beginning. “You should know, Thomas. Ending this pregnancy is not an option.”

He nodded and gave her a small smile. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure I do,” she countered and started pacing again. She had never given much thought to social issues. Especially the ones that didn’t concern her directly. She’d always been too focused on her career for that. But even Kate had been surprised at the strong, protective instinct that had swelled within her at the discovery of her pregnancy. “I’m a career woman, Thomas. And a firm believer in the ERA. Frankly, I didn’t think I’d feel like this. And I can’t tell other women what decisions to make about their lives. But for me, I’ve discovered that there is no decision to make. This baby is a fact. One that we have to deal with. One that isn’t going away.”

“Good.”

She stopped again, turning her head to look at him. “Good?”

He nodded and moved toward her. “I’m glad you feel that way, Kate. We can handle this. We’ll think of something.”

“We will, huh?” she said, and started pacing again. The sound of her heels on tile echoed on and on in her mind. So stupid. So...irresponsible. How could they have let this happen? They weren’t teenagers. They were supposed to be mature adults. Marines for God’s sake! Her stomach churned uneasily. “Think, you said?” she shook her head. “I hope you have better luck than I’ve had.” She paced right up to the wall and turned for the return trip. Glancing into his dark chocolate eyes, she added, “I’ve known about this for a month now and I haven’t been able to think of a blasted thing.”

“A month?” he asked. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“It’s not the easiest thing in the world to tell a man, you know,” she snapped, then caught herself. Sarcasm wasn’t going to be a big help here. Throwing her hands up only to let them fall again, she said. “I needed time. To think. To...” pretend it wasn’t happening? she asked silently as her words trailed off.

“Do you want to leave the Corps?” he asked quietly.

“No!” Kate stopped dead, frozen in her tracks. Then she faced him. “Leave the Corps?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “I can’t resign. The Corps is my life. As much as it is yours. I can’t—no. I won’t give it up.”

Did her voice really sound that shrill? Or was it just her?

“Well, then,” Thomas said. “That makes things even simpler.”

“I don’t see how.”

His gaze locked with hers. “You know the regulations on pregnancy as well as I do.”

A short breath shot into her lungs and caught. “I know.” Of course she knew. Wasn’t that what had been driving her quietly insane for the last month? Wasn’t that why she was wearing a path in his linoleum? Wasn’t that why she felt like crying, for goodness’ sake?

Another long minute passed in silence. Finally Thomas said, “Then you know what the answer to all this is.”

She held her breath again and absently wondered if all of this breath holding would hurt a baby currently no bigger than a peanut.

“I would be honored if you would consent to marry me, Kate.”

That pent-up breath exploded from her in a rush. Even though she had half suspected he would do exactly this, she was still almost shocked to hear the words out loud.

Marriage.

She should be happy, damn it.

Over the past three years, she’d secretly clung to the hope that one day, he would propose to her. Of course, she had also hoped that a little thing like love would prompt his proposal. Instead, it was duty and responsibility guiding the oh-so-honorable man in front of her.

No orange blossoms, candlelight and soft music for them, she mused. Nope. Marine green and Duty.

Lord, how romantic.

She lifted one hand and rubbed at a spot between her eyes, hoping to ease the throbbing headache centered there.

It didn’t help.

Kate knew he was right. Their getting married was the only possible solution. But her heart cringed at the notion of a dutiful marriage.

How strange. She’d managed to avoid marriage and motherhood all of her adult life. Now suddenly she was jumping feet first into both.

“Kate?” Tom asked, watching as her expressive face displayed each of her emotions in turn. “This is the best way. The only way.”

She nodded stiffly, but he could see she wasn’t convinced.

“Kate, this can work,” he said, walking across the room to her side. Hands on her shoulders, he held her gently but firmly, ignoring the sudden, white-hot jolt of desire that shot through him like a mortar blast. If she accepted his proposal, there would be plenty of time to indulge in the passion they shared. “We like each other. We get along well.”

“Like,” she repeated numbly and crossed her arms in front of her before letting her gaze slide from his.

He cupped her face in his palm and turned her back to look at him. “This will work,” he repeated, warming to his theme. Sure, he’d never intended to get married again. One failure in that department had been more than enough for Tom Candello. And here was another chance to show the world what lousy fathers the Candello men made. Like his own dad before him, Tom had failed at fatherhood. And the thought of another failure wasn’t a pretty one. But this was a special circumstance. Kate was pregnant. With his baby. Their child. He couldn’t let her down.

She needed him.

And for now, that was enough.

On that thought, he suggested, “Think about this as if it’s a Corps assignment, Kate.”

“What?”

“We’re fellow officers. We like each other. We understand each other’s work.”

She smiled sadly. “Not much to base a marriage on, Thomas.”

“More than some people have,” he said, and smoothed her hair back behind her ear.

“And less than others.”

He knew what she was talking about. Love. Well, love wasn’t something he was interested in. Desire at least was honest. And he did desire her. Plus he genuinely liked her. Wasn’t that better than some indefinable emotion that broke as many hearts as it healed?

Stroking her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, he said quietly, “Love’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Kate. I believe we can have a better-than-average marriage just by keeping love out of it. We’ll still manage to raise our child in a happy enough environment.”

Kate stared up at him for a long, thoughtful moment. The knot in her throat seemed to grow to colossal proportions, threatening to choke off her air entirely. His words keep repeating themselves over and over in her mind, like a tape stuck on Playback. “Keep love out of it. Happy enough environment. Better than average marriage.”

Not at all what she’d secretly yearned for the moment she’d first laid eyes on Colonel Thomas Candello. But fantasies and dreams had to give way to the realities of life...didn’t they?

And the cold, harsh reality was...she was pregnant. She was a Marine. And without the Corps she would have nothing to offer either herself or her child.

Because she really did have no choice at all here, she finally said, “All right, Thomas. I will marry you.”

He let out a pent-up breath and pulled her to him. As he wrapped his arms around her, Kate let herself lean against him, drawing on the strength he was offering her. Hoping they were doing the right thing.

For the baby and for them.

All she knew for sure was that the man she loved was marrying her—not because he couldn’t live without her—but because of a baby neither of them had counted on.

Two

“Now that that’s settled,” he whispered against the top of her head, “how about dinner tonight? We can talk about the specifics.”

Kate pulled back from him, despite the reluctance to leave the circle of his arms. Staring up into those dark brown eyes, she repeated, “Specifics.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Wedding date. Place. Time. Guests.”

“Oh, my,” she muttered, and shook her head. “Suddenly this is getting so involved. So complicated.”

“Would you prefer a whirlwind trip to Vegas?”

“Do I detect a hint of surliness in your tone?” she countered.

He frowned, walked to his desk and leaned one hip against the edge. “Not surly. Confused.”

“Join the club,” she muttered. For pity’s sake, she’d hardly gotten used to the idea of being pregnant. Not to mention his spur-of-the-moment proposal. Now she was supposed to pull out a pad of paper and eagerly make out a guest list?

Come on. Even Wonder Woman would have needed a few days.

He folded his arms across his chest, cocked his head to one side and looked at her as though she was a particularly intriguing germ on a glass slide under a microscope. “I don’t get it.”

“What?” Stupid question.

“This about-face,” he said. “A minute ago, we agreed that a marriage was the only answer. You did say yes, didn’t you?”

She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Of course I said yes...”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked.

“How much time do you have?”

He smiled, God help her, and that lone dimple in his right cheek made its first appearance. Damn it. Why was she such a sucker for that dimple?

“All the time you need, Kate. Talk.”

Talk. Easy enough for him to say. Hands locked tight behind her back, she paced again, feeling the need to burn off the excess energy that had her stomach roiling and her mind spinning. Back and forth, up and down, she looked at his office, the plain beige paint, the picture of the president, the dried-up splotches of the last rain on the windows and the halfdead ficus tree in the corner.

Talk. Where should she start? With ridiculous dreams or the painful reality?

She’d been hoping for so much more when she had put in a request for a transfer to Camp Pendleton.

For three years, Kate had loved Thomas Candello. And for those same three years, she’d kept quiet about it. She knew all too well his thoughts on marriage and love and happily-ever-after. He’d made no secret of the fact that his first marriage had been a disaster from the word go and that he had no intention of ever committing that particular mistake again.

So, wary of scaring him off, she’d patiently swallowed the three little words every time they threatened to roll off her tongue. She’d pretended to be as satisfied with their once-a-year tryst as he was. And she’d hoped that one day he would look into her eyes and see the love shining there and want to claim it.

So much for “hope springs eternal.”

“Kate?” he prompted from his place by the desk. “What’s going on?”

“Too much,” she said and came to a stop by his office door. Turning around, she braced her back against it and looked at him from across the room. Unfortunately, distance didn’t help. The liquid warmth in his eyes, that blasted dimple, his mouth, even several feet of empty space couldn’t dilute their power. “Thomas,” she said at last, “we can’t just up and get married.”

“Why not?” He pushed off the desk and started for her.

She held up one hand, stopping him in his tracks. If he expected her to think, then he needed to give her some breathing room.

“We’re both single adults. Unattached.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed shortly and shook his head. “Sorry, you lost me.”

She sighed heavily. “In the month I’ve been here, we’ve hardly spoken more than once or twice.”

“So?”

“So, don’t you think people will be just a little bit curious if we announce our imminent wedding?”

“And if we don’t get married, in a couple of months,” he snapped a look at her still flat abdomen, “they’ll be curious about a whole lot more than that.”

“I know.” She buried the flash of nerves that leaped into life in the pit of her stomach. “But still, we can’t go from supposed strangers to newlyweds overnight.”

He thought about it for a minute or two, then shrugged again. “Does it really matter? Is it anyone’s business?”

“Yes,” she said. “And no.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, it does matter and no, it’s not their business. But that won’t stop the gossip and you know it.”

“Military bases run on gossip. There’s no way to avoid it.”

“Maybe not, but we could slow it down a little.”

He smiled. “What have you got in mind?”

“Dating?” she suggested.

This time he laughed. “Kate, we’re a little beyond the dating stage, don’t you think?”

“Okay, sure.” She nodded and started pacing again, the sound of her heels against the linoleum tapping out a rhythm for her thoughts. “I suppose we could tell people that we’ve been seeing each other for three years.”

“A lot of each other,” he added.

“Yes, well, they don’t need to know that, now do they?”

“Kate,” Tom said, and crossed the room to her before she could stop him. “You’re making this more difficult—more complicated than it has to be.”

“I don’t see how.”

“We’ll date,” he said, and smiled down at her when she winced. “And after a whirlwind courtship, we’ll have a nice, quiet wedding a few weeks from now.”

“People will still talk.”

“It won’t matter. We’ll be married. The talk will die down.”

“Until I start showing.”

“You can’t prevent people from counting.”

“I suppose,” she said, and wished he would hold her again.

Tom reached for her, holding her tightly to him. He’d never seen Kate like this. Distracted. Worried—no, scared.

He pulled in a deep breath, enjoying the familiar, floral scent of her shampoo even as his mind told him she had a right to be scared, and if he had half a brain, he would be, too.

He’d done this before. He’d been married and made a damn mess of it. He’d had a child, too, and blown that, as well.

Oh, yeah, he was just the guy Kate needed—an already-proven failure as a husband and father.

His stomach turned over, and a fist tightened inside it.

There were two ways this could go, he told himself. One, it could all blow up in his face, hurting him, Kate and the poor unsuspecting baby stuck with him as a father—or, it could be his chance to make up for doing everything so badly the first time around.

Heaven or hell.

The lady or the tiger.

Tom closed his eyes and held her more tightly.

A pounding headache throbbing behind her eyes, Kate sat at her desk, taking deep breaths and telling herself the worst was over. She’d told him about the baby. Nobody had fainted. He hadn’t held up a rope of garlic to keep her at bay. And most important, she’d managed to keep her stomach from rebelling in the disgusting manner that was becoming all too familiar these days.

So why didn’t she feel better?

Because it wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

She was going to be a mother, God help the poor little thing nestled unknowingly inside her. And a wife. To a man who didn’t want a wife.

Kate groaned out loud, pushed both hands through her short hair and held on to her skull to keep it from exploding. Trying to distract herself, she glared at the mountain of paperwork awaiting her attention. Files and folders and stapled sheafs of papers lay across her desk in what to anyone else’s eye would look like a disorganized jumble. To Kate’s credit, she knew what every single piece of paper was, where it belonged and how to put her finger on whatever was needed at a moment’s notice.

That didn’t mean she liked it.

Thomas was wrong, she thought, stealing a quick glance at the In pile that had grown substantially in the fifteen minutes she’d been gone. The military didn’t run on gossip. It ran on paper. Piles and piles of paper.

A knock at the door delivered her and she looked up. “Yes?”

The door opened and her assistant, Staff Sergeant Eileen Dennis, poked her head in. “Excuse me, ma’am, but the other files have arrived.”

“Perfect,” Kate groaned and leaned back in her chair.

“Can I help, ma’am?” Eileen offered, stepping farther into the room and dropping at least ten more manilla folders onto an already precariously tilted stack.

Kate sighed. Tempting, but no. She might be pregnant and about to marry a reluctant groom, but she was still a Marine. And she could do her job—at least until her belly was so swollen she couldn’t pull her chair in close enough to reach the desk.

She managed to stifle the groan building inside her as she scooted her chair in extra tight, just because she could.

Looking up at the younger woman standing opposite her, Kate figured Eileen Dennis to be about twenty-eight Her bright blue eyes were sharp. Her smart cap of night black hair was regulation, yet somehow managed to look feminine. Spit and polish, the creases on the woman’s uniform had creases. The staff sergeant was young, eager, dedicated and ambitious.

Everything Kate had always been herself. So why then did she suddenly feel like Grandma Moses in comparison?

“Thanks, Eileen,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can manage.”

She actually looked disappointed. “If you’re sure...”

“I am,” Kate said. “But if you can find me a cup of coffee, I’ll put you up for promotion.”

Eileen grinned at the joke. “Black, one sugar?”

“Yeah.” Just as the door started to close, though, Kate said, “No. Wait.” Caffeine. Not a good thing for growing babies. She caught Eileen’s eye. “Make that tea.”

“Tea, ma’am?” Surprise etched itself onto her features.

“Herbal.” Lord, just saying it made her want to retch. How would she ever get through the next six months without a jolt of caffeine every day?

“Yes ma’am,” Eileen said, and slowly closed the door again.

When she was alone, Kate pushed away from the desk and crossed the room to the one tiny window her office provided. Staring out at the busy base, she absently watched her fellow Marines carrying out their everyday tasks. The world was rolling right along, she thought. It didn’t seem to matter that her own personal world lay in shambles at her feet.

Her phone rang and grudgingly Kate turned toward the desk again. She snatched it up on the third ring. “Yes?”

“Colonel Candello on line one, ma’am.”

Her stomach twisted. Had he changed his mind already? Had the idea of a baby and marriage made him want to resign and catch the first sailboat to Tahiti?

A click, a hum, then Thomas’s voice. “Kate?”

“I’m here.”

A long pause. “You never agreed to dinner tonight. Let’s get this courtship started.”

So much for Tahiti.

“Tonight?” Her fingers tightened around the receiver.

“Any reason not to?”

She stared down at her desk, told herself she should work late and clear up all the files. But they’d be right there in the morning, waiting for her. “No,” she said. “I guess not.”

“Good. Seven?” he asked, and even over the phone his voice raised goosebumps on her skin. “I’ll pick you up at your place?”

She rubbed one hand over her forearm, as if she could wipe away the effect he had on her.

“You don’t know where I live,” she said. Good heavens, she was marrying a man who didn’t even know where her apartment was. This couldn’t be right, could it? Right for any of them?

“I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Kate sat down in her chair, propped her elbows on her desk and didn’t even glance at the two manilla folders that slid off, spilling papers across her floor. “Thomas—” She rested her forehead in one palm. “This is all so weird. It feels... awkward.”

“I know, honey,” he said, his voice deepening into a low rumble of sound. “But we’ll figure it all out.”

She hoped so, because at the moment, her world felt about as steady as a ball twirling on the tip of a trained seal’s snout.

“You still like Italian?” he asked.

Kate smiled, ridiculously pleased that he’d repeated the stupid little joke they traditionally used to start off their yearly week together. Even more ridiculous, his saying it now actually made her feel better. So she gave him the answer he was waiting for.

“I still like one Italian.”

“That’s a relief. You had me worried there for a minute, Kate.” His chuckle carried across the line before he said, “So, Major. Give me your address so I can start sweeping you off your feet.”

A moment later, Tom hung up. His hand still lying atop the cradled receiver, he stared blankly at the window opposite his desk. Weak winter sunshine fell through the spotty glass pane, painting a polka-dotted slash of gold across the linoleum.

All things considered, he told himself, that had gone pretty well. He flashed a look at the phone and frowned to himself. He’d managed to sound encouraging, uplifting and supportive without once letting his voice betray the sliver of panic that had torn his guts open at her news.

While he was on a roll, he snatched up the phone again and dialed his daughter’s number. After two rings, she answered.

“Hi, kiddo,” he said quickly.

“Hi, Dad, what’s up?”

Way too much to go into over the phone, he thought. His fingers toyed with the curly telephone cord. “A change in plans. I can’t make dinner tonight”

“Your loss,” his daughter informed him. “I’m making Grandma’s lasagna.”

He smiled at the receiver. “Rain check?”

“Naturally,” she said. “Anything wrong? You sound funny.”

Funny? No, he didn’t. He sounded exactly what he was. Terrified. But he wasn’t going to say anything to Donna and her husband, First Sergeant Jack Harris, until he and Kate had had time to talk this whole thing out

“No,” he assured her. “Nothing’s wrong.” Then, because his whirlwind courtship was about to start, and she might as well start getting used to the idea, he said as casually as possible. “Actually, I have a date.”

“Intriguing,” his too-sharp daughter said. “Bachelor Colonel with a date. I haven’t even seen you look at a woman since your barbecue a few months ago.”

Just before his last trip to Japan, Tom remembered. He’d actually toyed with the idea of dating a woman he saw more than once a year. But, after dinner and a movie, he’d discovered that as nice as the woman was, she wasn’t Kate.

“Who is she?” Donna prompted. “Anyone I know?”

“Major Katherine Jennings,” he answered, and added silently, Kate. The woman I’ve been having an affair with for three years. The mother of your new little brother or sister. Oh, man.

“Nope,” Donna told him. “Don’t know her.”

You will, he thought, but said only, “I’ve gotta go, kiddo.”

“Okay, but you owe me,” she warned. “Dinner here, next week?”

“Deal.” Already moving to hang up, he said, “Say hello to Jack.”

“Okay. ‘Bye, Dad.”

He set the phone down, Donna’s last word ringing in his ears. Dad. Lord, he’d been a lousy parent the first time around. He swallowed back the knot of bitterness that always threatened to choke him when he recalled those lost years with Donna.

As teenagers he and Donna’s mother had married with the best of intentions, only to see their relationship die within a couple of years. After the divorce, he’d concentrated solely on his career, moving up in the ranks—and he’d missed so much of Donna’s childhood, he’d hardly known her when she had come to live with him when she was thirteen.

Shame simmered inside him, pushing him to his feet and demanding he move. He paced, unconsciously following the same path Kate’s heels had trod only a few minutes ago.

Pregnant

It had taken years to rebuild a relationship with Donna. Years filled with anxiety, frustration and the fear that he would never be able to overcome the “parenting” lessons he’d absorbed from his own father.

And now it would all start again. A knot of tension tightened in his gut Was it fair to saddle some poor innocent baby with him as a father?

Just like the last time he’d gotten married, the bride would be carrying his child. God. Hadn’t he learned anything in his forty-five years?

He rubbed both hands across his face viciously. A grown man, and he’d been as irresponsible as he had been at seventeen. A sad thing to note about yourself, he thought.

But instantly that night in Japan rolled back into his mind.

The two of them, locked together on that tiny balcony. Kate’s flesh beneath his hands, her legs locked around his middle, the hot, tight feel of her body embracing his. In memory, he saw her head fall back, her lips form his name as another climax tore through her. He should have stopped then. Should have pulled away long enough to make sure she was safe. But he didn’t. His greed for her had spilled through him, and he could no more have left her—even for a moment—than he could have stopped breathing on command.

So instead, with the sounds of the city far below them and the soft glow of the moon and a trillion stars above them, they’d created a life.

A life that had a right to expect a few little things like security and love from its parents.

Three

Tom pulled up in front of the small duplex, parked beneath the lamppost, set the brake and turned off the ignition. Opening the door, he pocketed the keys and slid out of his new truck.

Idly he ran one hand over the flashy red paint that looked a dingy gray in the weird glow of the yellow fog light. The day he’d bought it, just a month ago, he’d actually called Donna, to tease her about the “new baby” in his life.

A short laugh shot from his throat. New baby had suddenly taken on a completely different meaning.

He could just imagine the look on Donna’s and her husband’s faces when he announced the arrival of her little brother. Or sister.

Shaking his head, he started around the front of the car. A muffled roar of sound rolled toward him. Out of the darkness, four young boys appeared as shadows in the gloom, then sailed past him, ably surfing the asphalt on skateboards.

Their laughter hung in the air for a long minute after they were gone, and Tom stared after them. Skateboarding. In the dark. Fearlessly pitting themselves against drivers who would have a hard time spotting them in their blue jeans and sweatshirts.

A cold chill swept over him. The kids couldn’t have been more than ten, tops. When his child was ten, Tom would be fifty-five. Nearly sixty. He groaned tightly. How in the hell would he be able to keep up with the kid?

Shaking his head at the thought, he turned to stare at the small, neat apartments in front of him. A singlestory, craftsman-style duplex, ‘Kate had told him hers was the one on the right. Tom shifted his gaze to the square of lamplight making the blue drapes across a wide front window glow with a nearly serene light. He tried to imagine her there, inside.

He should have come by sooner. Called her. He’d wanted to. But she was right. This did feel awkward. Sure, they’d known each other for three years. But they’d only spent three weeks of that time together.

In the month she’d been on base, Tom had hardly seen her. He’d deliberately kept his distance, wanting to give her time to settle in. To get used to the idea of their being in such close quarters for the first time.

But it had taken every ounce of his self-control to keep from calling her, talking to her. Honestly, he’d wanted to give her time to decide if she even wanted to continue the affair that had come to mean so much to him over the past three years.

Now, it seemed the choice had been made for her.

Dragging in a deep breath of sea-flavored air, he started for the front door. Along the way, he noted the neat flower border that lined the narrow, curved walk. Tiny statues of squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits dotted one half of the thumbnail-sized front lawn, and he smiled, wondering if Kate had set them out or if they belonged to her neighbor.

How little he knew about her, the person, he mused. Oh, he knew that rubbing the back of her knee lightly would make her purr in pleasure. But he didn’t know the simple things. For instance, what was her favorite color?

What the hell kind of relationship was this?

Two front doors met him. The door on the left, painted a bright blue, also sported a wild-looking wreath made of dried flowers and boasting a stuffed canary on its straw ribbon. He glanced at it and it opened.

A small, older woman in skintight pink pants topped by a neon yellow sweatshirt stepped out onto her porch. She looked up at him, smiled and instantly lifted one hand to unnecessarily smooth her chic, silver hair. “Well,” she said, her tone openly interested. “Hello. I heard you walk up, thought you were one of the girls. But you’re most definitely not, so just exactly who are you?”

“Tom Candello, ma’am,” he said, and couldn’t help noticing when she winced slightly at the “ma’am.”

She recovered quickly though and, stepping toward him, she held out her right hand. “Evie Bozeman,” she said, giving him a wide smile. “You’re here to see Kate, then?”

“That’s right,” he said, and snapped a quick look at the still-closed door on the right.

“And are you a Marine, too?” she practically cooed at him.

“Yes ma’am, I’m a colonel.”

“Ooh, fascinating,” she murmured, then her gaze swept him up and down. “A shame you didn’t wear your uniform. I do so love a man in uniform.”

“I don’t usually wear it off base,” he told her and silently counted his lucky stars that he hadn’t worn it tonight, especially.

“As I said, a shame. Ah, well, jeans are nice, too.” She inhaled sharply, beamed a smile at him and tightened her grip on his hand. “I’m delighted Kate has a date. I’ve told her and told her, she’s too young to just sit at home all the time.”

Too young, Tom thought with an inward groan. At thirty-two, she was too young for lots of things. Including him. As he’d told her often over the past three years.

“You take me, for example.” Evie was talking again, tugging him toward Kate’s door. “Why, I’m almost never home. Tonight’s different, of course. The girls are coming over for a game of cards. We invited Kate to join us, but she said she had plans.” She actually batted her eyelashes at him. “And she certainly wasn’t lying.”

There was a gleam in Evie Bozeman’s eyes that had Tom wanting to call out the troops for backup.

From out on the street, a car horn sounded and Evie looked past him, thank heaven, squinted a bit, then grinned and waved. “The girls are here,” she told him, and tugged him around again to face the walkway.

Tom glanced over his shoulder at Kate’s unadorned door and wondered where the hell she was. Then it occurred to him that she might be watching all of this and thoroughly enjoying it instead of coming out to rescue him. As soon as that thought registered, though, he reminded himself that he was a colonel in the Marine Corps. He shouldn’t have to be rescued from a woman who had to be at least sixty-five.

Determinedly he tried to pull his hand free, but Evie held on in a grip that told him she’d done this before.

“Now, don’t run off, Tom,” she said, waving one arm in a wide arc, to hurry her friends along the flower-lined walk. “I want you to meet the girls.”

Surrendering to the inevitable, he followed her gaze to the four women hurtling up the walkway. Each one well into her sixties, they wore jeans or the same kind of tights Evie was wearing. Sweatshirts, T-shirts and running shoes completed the ensembles, and Tom had to admit they looked nothing at all like what he would expect from a bridge club.

“Girls,” Evie announced proudly, “this is Tom.” She paused for effect, then added, “He’s a Marine. A colonel.”

Tom shifted uneasily as four pairs of interested eyes turned on him.

“Where’d you find him, Evie?”

“My, what a looker!”

“Whose is he?”

“Can we keep him?”

This last from a tiny woman with carrot red hair and an eager glint in her eye.

Tom met that look and took an instinctive step backward. Where were all of the nice grandmotherly type women he’d known when he was a kid?

From behind him a door opened and he almost groaned in relief when he heard Kate say, “Tom?”

Taking advantage of Evie’s surprise, Tom pulled his hand free and made a quick move for the blond woman standing in the open doorway. He didn’t remember ever being so glad to see her as he was at this minute. The porch light glimmered on the lightest blond streaks in her hair, making the short, curledunder cut shimmer like silver and gold threads. The dress she wore was enough to destroy a lesser man, and the light, flowery scent he always associated with her enveloped him.

She smiled up at him as she closed and locked her front door behind her and his heart hammered against his chest. Yep, he told himself. Worse than a teenager.

An audible sigh of disappointment came from “the girls.”

“Hello, Kate,” Evie said brightly. “I was just introducing Tom to my friends.”

“So I see,” she said, and fought down a ripple of excitement that shook through her when Tom’s arm brushed against her. She didn’t even want to think about the look she’d seen in his eyes a moment ago.

“Going someplace nice, are you?” Evie asked, her gaze fastening on Kate’s dark blue, brushed-wool dress.

“I don’t know,” Kate said, shooting a look at Tom. “Are we?”

He rubbed one hand across the back of his neck. “I was thinking about the Pasta Pot.”

“Good choice,” Evie told him, then began to herd her friends toward her front door. “Have a nice night. And Kate? Maybe you can join us for cards next week?”

“I’d like that,” Kate said, smiling at the woman who’d become a friend in the past month.

“I didn’t know you played bridge,” Tom muttered.

Before she could correct him, her neighbor did it for her.

“Bridge!” Evie exclaimed on a laugh. “That’s for old women. We play poker, honey, down and dirty.”

“Poker?” Tom repeated, and Kate dipped her head to hide a smile.

“Five-card stud. Wimps and wusses need not apply.” She sailed into her apartment with a wave and a high-pitched “Toodle-oo!”

After a long moment of stunned silence, Tom muttered, “Now there goes a completely terrifying woman.”

The tension she’d felt all afternoon shattered, Kate looked up at him and laughed. “Wonderful, isn’t she?”

“Interesting,” he said, then confessed, “For a minute there, when ‘the girls’ arrived, I knew just what it felt like to be a nicely browned Thanksgiving turkey when dozens of hungry eyes are locked on it.”

Kate looked him up and down quickly, covertly and couldn’t really blame Evie and the others. He looked good enough to eat. Black hair with just a dusting of gray at the temples. A red knit shirt that stretched tight across his muscled chest and broad shoulders was tucked into the narrow waistband of a pair of jeans that hugged his long, truly great legs. No wonder Evie and her friends had briefly captured him. It wasn’t every day a gorgeous man wandered up that walk.

Something inside her quivered, like a guitar string plucked and left to vibrate. Kate swallowed hard and strived for a calm, easy tone in her voice as she said, “When I first moved in, Evie made me dinner every night for a week. Said I shouldn’t have to bother with anything other than unpacking because moving was such a bitch.”

He chuckled, and the sound brought back memories of black nights, starlit skies and soft music. She could almost feel his warm breath on her neck. Almost taste the champagne they’d used to toast each other their last night together. The night they’d made a baby.

A shriek of laughter rose up from next door, and Tom glanced that way, unaware of Kate’s spiraling thoughts. “She’s something, all right,” he said. “I look at her and try to imagine my own mother wearing that outfit.”

“And can’t?” she asked, dropping her keys into her purse and starting down the walk.

“Angelina Candello?” he asked as he followed her. “In neon? I don’t think so.”

“Angelina’s a beautiful name,” she said softly and waited for him to unlock the truck door.

“Yeah.” He held it open for her. “You would have liked her.”

“Would have?”

“She died about six years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged but she caught a glint of remembered pain shining briefly in his eyes. Then he closed the door and walked around the hood to climb in beside her. As he fired the engine and pulled away from the curb, Kate watched him, her mind racing.

Three years, she thought. Three years she’d known him and yet she really knew so little. Swallowing back the sadness welling inside her, she asked quietly, “Your father?”

“Died when I was a kid.” Tom kept his eyes on the road, “Angie raised me. What about you?”

Kate’s hands smoothed the fall of her dress across her knees and watched the ripple of material as she said, “I never knew my father. My mother died when I was fifteen.”

“So we’re both orphans.”

She shot a look at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Yes. I guess we are.”

Another long moment of silence stretched out between them until finally, when they stopped at a red light, Tom spoke. Gently he asked, “Do you realize how little we know about each other?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Strange and sad and lonely. She’d loved him from the moment she laid eyes on him. She could map every inch of his body from memory. She’d held him inside her, found magic in his touch and was now sheltering his child within her and she didn’t even know his middle name.

“What is your middle name?” she asked abruptly, determined to start mining him for information.

He stared at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “My middle name?”

“It’s a place to start, don’t you think?” She crossed her legs, black silk stockings swishing. She linked her shaking hands around her knee.

Someone behind them honked, and Tom turned his head forward and stepped on the gas.

“Yeah, all right.” He nodded and moved into the left lane. The fingers of his left hand tapped nervously against the steering wheel. “Nice night.”

She stared at him as he steered the truck into a well-lit parking lot. When he didn’t say anything else, she commented, “You’re stalling.”

“Hmm? Why would I be stalling?”

“You don’t want to tell me your middle name.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He snorted a laugh as he pulled into a parking slot, set the brake and killed the engine.

“I think so.”

He winced. “You haven’t heard it yet.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Was he embarrassed? Another piece of information to add to the paltry store of things she knew about the man she loved.

Kate locked her fingers together tighter to keep from reaching out to touch him. In the dim, muted glow of the overhead lights, his face was shadowed but she still read the stubborn reluctance on his features.

“Okay,” she said softly, “now I have to hear it.”

One corner of his mouth tilted up, and that dimple of his creased his cheek. Kate’s stomach slipped and she forced air into her lungs in an effort to quiet it.

“This is top secret, Major,” he warned, giving her a mock glare.

“Sir!” she snapped, and freed one hand long enough to give him a sharp salute.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Only a handful of people know what I’m about to tell you.

“I’m honored.”

“I’m embarrassed.”

“I noticed.”

“Fine.” Frowning, he leaned in close and muttered, “Salvatore.”

Kate pulled back and looked at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Would I make that up?”

No, she supposed not. Aloud, she tried it out. “Thomas Salvatore Candello. Hmm.”

“It gets worse.”

Her eyes widened. “There’s more?”

“Thomas Salvatore Giovanni Candello.”

“Wow.”

He nodded sagely. “Now you understand the reason for secrecy.”

Actually her hormones were making her just sappy enough to find his full name sort of...romantic. But instead of saying so, she told him, “Your secret’s safe, Colonel.”

“It had better be, Major,” he said with another warning look. “Now it’s my turn. Give.”

“Give?”

“The middle name, Major. Let’s have it.” He crooked one finger at her.

“It’s not nearly as...interesting as yours.”

“Undoubtedly,” he admitted. “Still. Fair’s fair.”

“It’s Marie,” she said. “Katherine Marie.”

He looked at her for the space of several heartbeats, then smiled softly. “It’s beautiful.”

Something inside her trembled.

“You’re beautiful,” he added, and leaned toward her again. “Lord, I’ve missed you, Kate.”

“Thomas...,” she said on a sigh and wasn’t sure if she’d meant it as an invitation or a warning. His eyes flashed and in their depths she read his hunger. His desire. She recognized it effortlessly because she was sure the same emotions were glittering in her own eyes. It happened every time he got within three feet of her.

But this wasn’t supposed to happen tonight. Their first real chance to talk since she’d arrived in California, heaven knew they had plenty to talk about. All afternoon she’d reminded herself that this was a night for conversation—not for picking up where they left off in Japan.

Steeling herself with that thought, she unsnapped her seat belt, opened the truck door and swiveled to climb out.

“Kate?”

She turned to look at him. With a helpless shrug she said, “If you start kissing me now, Thomas, we’ll never get anything settled.”

He pulled in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled in a rush. Nodding briskly, he muttered, “You’re right. First things first.”

When they met at the back of the truck and he took her arm to escort her into the restaurant, though, he paused, waiting until she looked up at him. “But you have to know how much I want you, Kate.”

She shivered beneath his touch and the fiery sparks in his eyes. “Believe me, Thomas,” she assured him. “I know.”

The Pasta Pot was small, and the crowd friendly. A veritable jungle of flowers and ivy spilled out of baskets hanging from the wide oak beams overhead. Candles dotted every table and the flickering flames looked like fireflies in the atmospheric gloom.

On a weeknight, there was no wait for a table, and Tom walked behind Kate and the hostess to a corner booth in the back. Once their orders had been taken by a waitress who attended them promptly, Tom turned his full attention on Kate.

“It’s pretty,” she said, glancing around the room as the muted strains of Beethoven floated to them from the overhead speakers.

“Food’s good, too,” he said.

Her gaze slid to his. “This is so weird.”

“Yeah,” he agreed and reached across the gleaming oak table to lay one hand over hers. “But we’ll work it out.”

At that, something inside her seemed to burst. She started talking, and the words poured from her like water from an upended bucket

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she started with a shake of her head. “How can we do this? How can we get married? We hardly know each other.”

“We knew each other well enough to make a baby,” he pointed out.

“A baby.” She propped her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hands. “Ohmigod. How can I be a mother?” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “I can’t cook, I don’t sew,” she threw him a wild look. “I can’t even bake cookies, for Pete’s sake! Shouldn’t a mother know how to bake cookies? Isn’t that a requirement?”

“I don’t think so,” he said and tried to smile. “As far as I know, you don’t have to be able to chop wood, stoke a fire or slaughter your own meat anymore, either.”

She groaned and shook her head. “You don’t understand, Thomas. I don’t even keep plants. They always die. No matter what I do,” she went on, now tangling her fingers together and squeezing. “Too little water, too much water, no fertilizer, too much fertilizer, sunlight, shade...doesn’t matter. I kill ’em all.”

“Kate...” He smiled. “It’s not the same thing.”

“An indiscriminate plant killer, Thomas.” She met his gaze, and he saw with heartstopping clarity the sheen of tears beginning to well in her eyes. “I’ve been blacklisted in every garden nursery from here to Guam. So I ask you,” she added as she blinked those tears back, “is this the kind of person who should be a mother?”

He slid closer to her on the maroon leather booth seat and pulled her into his arms for a quick hug. Something inside him tightened painfully, then relaxed again with an almost painful release. “You’ll be great” he said confidently.

“How can you know that?”

“Because you care so damn much,” he whispered. “That’s all the baby will need. Heck, that’s all the three of us will need to make this work, Kate. Caring.” He ran one finger along her cheek gently. “If we care enough, everything else will take care of itself.” Tom repeated that last phrase to himself silently and hoped to God he was right. “Trust me, Kate.”

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