“You Can Handle A Baby For A Few Minutes, Can’t You?” Letter to Reader Title Page MAUREEN CHILD 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 Copyright

“You Can Handle A Baby For A Few Minutes, Can’t You?”

Hell, Jeff thought. He could hardly handle being in the same room with Laura! Her cheeks were flushed from the warm, moist air, tendrils of brown hair curled softly around her face, and her eyes looked dewy, despite the spark of challenge she was shooting at him.

His insides twisted with an unexpected pang. Obviously, he thought in disgust, his attraction for her hadn’t weakened any, despite his hopes.

Only one week ago he was a perfectly contented man. His life and career were running smoothly. Now everything around him was in turmoil.

All because of one small person. And her irresistible nanny.

Don’t miss the next installment of the

irresistible BACHELOR BATTALION,

The Oldest Living Married Virgin, coming in

November, only in Silhouette Desire.

Dear Reader,

The perfect treat for cool autumn days are nights curled up with a warm, toasty Silhouette Desire novel!

So, be prepared to get swept away by superstar Rebecca Brandewyne’s MAN OF THE MONTH, The Lioness Tamer, a story of a magnetic corporate giant who takes on a real challenge—taming a wild virginal beauty. THE RULEBREAKERS, talented author Leanne Banks’s miniseries about three undeniably sexy hunks—a millionaire, a bad boy, a protector—continues with The Lone Rider Takes a Bride, when an irresistible rebel introduces passion to a straight-and-narrow lady... and she unexpectedly introduces him to everlasting love. The Paternity Factor by Caroline Cross tells the poignant story of a woman who proves her secret love for a brooding man by caring for the baby she thinks is his.

Also this month, Desire launches OUTLAW HEARTS, a brandnew miniseries by Cindy Gerard about strong-minded outlaw brothers who can’t stop love from stealing their own hearts, in The Outlaw’s Wife. Maureen Child’s gripping miniseries, THE BACHELOR BATTALION, brings readers another sensual, emotional read with The Non-Commissioned Baby And Silhouette has discovered another fantastic talent in debut author Shirley Rogers, one of our WOMEN TO WATCH, with her adorable Cowboys, Babies and Shotgun Vows.

Once again, Silhouette Desire offers unforgettable romance by some of the most beloved and gifted authors in the genre. Don’t forget to come back next month for more happily-ever-afters!

Regards,

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

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The Non-Commissioned Baby

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 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. She is also an award-winning historical writer under the names Kathleen Kane and Ann Carberry.

For Jaime and Kirk Brogdon

with love to celebrate Hayden.

A baby is a wonderful gift.

Enjoy every minute of your little miracle.

One

“Damn cats.” Jeff Ryan muttered and swung both legs off the edge of the mattress. Stumbling across his bedroom in the heavily draped darkness, he slammed his big toe into the leg of a chair.

He jerked his foot up, cursed viciously, grabbed the throbbing toe and hopped to the closed door. Yanking it open, he let go of his foot and hobbled across the living room, wincing at the jagged slices of sunlight slanting through the half-opened blinds.

What was wrong with people? he thought. Why couldn’t they keep their blasted cats at home instead of letting them sit outside his door howling like lost souls on the way to Hell?

Well, he’d had enough. This time, he’d catch the little beast and carry it straight to the manager’s apartment—or the pound.

In a foul mood that was getting worse by the second, Jeff slid back the dead bolt, threw open the door and made a lunge for the cat.

One small problem.

That was no cat screaming from its roost in the basket just outside his door.

“A baby?”

At least, he told himself as he stared down in horror at the red-faced, screaming mass of humanity, he thought it was a baby. At the moment, it more resembled something out of Aliens.

What was going on around here? He looked up and down the length of the short hallway as if he expected to find the culprit who’d abandoned a baby like something out of a 1930s movie. But no one was there.

He looked down at the baby again, still stunned to find it on his doorstep.

Fat little arms and legs swung wildly in the air, while chubby hands grabbed for something that wasn’t there. And the baby’s howl was designed to puncture eardrums.

“Hey, kid,” he said, bending down to jiggle the basket awkwardly. “Stick a sock in it, will you?”

The infant snorted, sniffed, looked at him, took a deep breath and screamed again.

And people wondered why he had never wanted kids.

Scowling in disgust, Jeff looked up and down the third floor’s long hallway again. Not a sign of anybody. Wouldn’t you know it? Where were his nosy neighbors when he really needed them? Sure, at eleven o’clock in the morning, no one was around. But let him come home at 2:00 a.m. with his date for the evening, and at the very least, old Mrs. Butler would have her head poked out her open door.

Glancing back at the Scream Machine, he noticed an envelope jutting up from the side of the basket, half-covered by a brightly colored knitted blanket.

Despite the thread of worry that had suddenly erupted in his bloodstream, Jeff reached down and plucked the envelope free. Slowly, dreading what he would find, he turned it over.

He cursed again, louder this time, as his gaze locked on his own name scrawled across the front of the envelope.

Captain Jeffrey Ryan, United States Marine Corps.

A baby on the doorstep? Things like that didn’t really happen, did they? His fingers suddenly clumsy, he tore at the sealed flap and pulled out the folded papers. Smoothing them out, he read the note first.

Captain Ryan—Sorry to just leave the baby like this, but you weren’t answering your door and I’ve got 45 minutes to catch a transport to Guam.

He paused. A fellow Marine had done this to him?

I volunteered to bring you the baby. The Sarge’s will is enclosed, too, just so’s everything’s legal. A shame about the Sarge, but we all know you’ll do right by his kid Signed, Corporal Stanley Hubrick.

The Sarge? Jeff wondered. Sergeant who? And what did Corporal Hubrick mean, he knew Jeff would do right by the kid?

Head pounding from the baby’s continued screeching, he skimmed the will once, then again, hitting only a few, significant words. Horrified. he lowered the papers and stared accusingly at the infant.

“No offense, kid, but I am nobody’s guardian.”

Ten minutes later, Jeff was on the phone, the receiver tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he rocked the incredibly unhappy baby in his arms.

At least it had stopped screeching. For the moment.

“I can’t believe this,” his sister repeated for the fifth time.

“You already said that.”

“You’re the baby’s guardian?”

“According to this will, yes.”

“Amazing.”

“Peggy,” he tried to reason with his sister, “you don’t understand. I can’t do this. What do I know about kids?”

“I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett!” she said.

He inhaled sharply and gritted his teeth as she laughed.

“Very funny,” he snarled a moment later, the humor in the situation completely escaping him. “Now, are you going to come down here and help me or not?”

“Not,” Peggy said, amusement still touching the tone of her voice.

“Peg—” He stared, horrified as the baby started chewing on the sleeve of his T-shirt. Drool ran down the baby’s cheeks and chin, pooling in the white fabric. “That’s disgusting,” he muttered.

“What?”

Snapping back to the bigger problem, he said, “Never mind. Peg, you’ve got to come.”

“I always said you’d make a great father.”

Yes, she had, but she had been the only one to think so.

“Cut it out.” Silently, he shouted at his long-dead parents for gifting his sister with such a warped sense of humor. “This is serious. I’ve got to see about correcting this mess. Fast.”

“What’s to correct?” she said, and in the background, he heard one of his nephews apparently trying to behead his niece.

Jeff winced. Maybe he’d called the wrong person for advice on kids.

Her hand obviously half over the phone, Peggy calmly said, “Teddy, don’t twist your sister’s arm, you’ll break it.”

Unbelievable. Teddy. A nine-year-old enforcer.

“Honestly, Jeff,” Peggy spoke to him again. “You’re just going to have to deal with this. Whose baby is it, anyway?”

The name would be forever etched into his memory. “Sergeant Hank Powell. We served together in the Gulf. According to the note, Hank and his wife were killed in a car accident.”

“Oh,” soft-hearted Peggy sighed. “How terrible.”

“Yeah,” Jeff muttered, with a glance at the infant staring at him through wide blue eyes. Heck, he hadn’t seen Hank in years. What had Jeff ever done to make the man hate him enough to saddle him with his kid?

“Oops,” his sister said abruptly. “Gotta run. Thomas’s violin lesson is in fifteen minutes. Then Tina has ballet and Teddy has—”

“Karate?”

She laughed. “No, what am I, nuts? Drums.”

Good Lord. Then, realizing she was hanging up on him, he panicked. “Peg, I need help. At least until I can figure out how to get out of this.”

His sister sighed dramatically. After a moment, though, she perked right up. “Of course!” she said. “I’ll call Laura.”

“Laura?” he repeated. “Laura who?”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of her right away,” Peg went on, mostly to herself. “I’m sure she’d be willing.”

“Willing to what?”

“Really, Jeff,” Peggy said abruptly. “I’ve got to rush. Call you later to tell you when to expect Laura.”

“Laura who?” he demanded again.

A dial tone hummed in his ear.

Abandoned, Jeff replaced the receiver and looked down at the finally quiet baby cradled against his side. Actually, when it was silent, holding it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. A peaceful expression crossed the infant’s face, and Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the worst was over.

A moment later, he frowned at the sudden, damp warmth spreading down his hip and thigh. Realization dawned. He held the baby out at arm’s length and stared down at his military green boxers.

Soaked.

In a much more disgusting manner than his T-shirt sleeve.

Slowly, he swiveled his appalled gaze to the baby.

It laughed at him.

Judging from the screams coming from the other side of the door, Peggy’s brother had his hands full. Laura Morgan winced slightly as the baby’s wail hit a particularly high note.

She forced herself not to reach for that doorknob. Every instinct she possessed told her to go inside, pick up that baby and comfort it. But she had to be sure before she did any such thing.

Laura laughed at herself. A little late for rethinking. If she hadn’t been sure, would she have taken a commuter flight from Santa Barbara to San Diego almost immediately after talking to Peggy? Would she even now be standing outside Captain Jeff Ryan’s apartment, her life neatly packed into three battered suitcases?

Okay, fine. So she wanted the job. So it had seemed like a gift from the gods the minute Peggy had mentioned it. Laura loved babies. Had always planned on having several of her own by now. She frowned slightly. The best-laid plans, et cetera.

Now here she was, thirty years old, single and hoping that her best friend’s brother would hire her for the summer. Because the only way she could ease the baby fever still holding her in its grip was with other people’s children. There were no husband and kids in her future. All of those dreams had died with Bill eight years ago.

Well, that’s a good start on the summer, she told herself. Drown yourself in a tidal wave of self-pity. Always a great party favor. Designed to win friends and influence people.

“Psst!”

Laura frowned and looked to her right, but she didn’t see anyone.

“Psst!” The voice was a little louder this time.

Studying the hall carefully, Laura finally spotted one of the apartment doors opened no more than half an inch. Staring at her through that narrow gap was one bright blue eye.

“Are you talking to me?” Laura asked hesitantly.

The door opened a hairbreadth wider, displaying a bit of the face that eye belonged to. A woman. Small, birdlike features, lined and etched by time, topped by wispy, snow white hair. “Are you going in there?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Laura answered with what she hoped was a friendly smile. Maybe the woman was too afraid to step into the hallway. But heck, the nightly news was enough to terrify Laura, for that matter. “I’m here to look after the baby.”

“You look after yourself, missy,” the woman said softly. “That one in there, he’s a ladies’ man.”

“Is he really?” Laura turned a speculative eye on the door from behind which she could still hear the baby’s cries.

“You don’t look his usual type,” the woman continued. “But I thought you should be told. Forewarned is forearmed, you know.”

With that intriguing statement, she closed her door. In quick succession, Laura heard four locks slam home.

Interesting start to a new job, she thought. Yet she couldn’t help wondering what Captain Ryan’s type was.

Then she dismissed the old woman’s warnings, steeled herself and lifted her right hand to knock. She stopped short when she heard a man shouting to be heard over the baby.

“Yeah?” he asked. “If Laura Morgan’s so great, why isn’t she here yet? I had to take the baby to the grocery store! And it wasn’t pretty!”

Laura drew her head back and stared at the closed door as if she could see through the heavy wood to the angry man inside.

“Peggy,” he shouted, “this isn’t funny.”

Laura had to smile. Peggy Cummings’s sense of humor was one of the things she liked best about her.

“I need help,” he said. “Where the hell is this friend of yours, anyway?”

That cue was just too good to pass up. Quickly, she rapped her knuckles against the door.

It opened immediately.

The harried-looking man clutching a cordless phone to his ear stared at her. Well, he didn’t match the description given to her by his sister. Peg had described her brother as “gorgeous, meticulously neat and with enough self-confidence for three healthy people.”

The man in front of Laura now, though, looked wild. Short hair standing almost on end, he wore a white T-shirt stained with several different types of baby food, and a wet patch on his sharply creased trousers, which clung to his thigh. Bare feet only added to the image of a man on the edge.

None of that did a thing to take away from his good looks, though. His sharply defined features, strong jaw, straight nose and slightly full lips worked together to form a man too handsome for his own good. Peggy hadn’t lied. He was gorgeous. Yet it wasn’t only his face that was attractive. There was a strength about him that seemed to call to her. A knot of warmth uncurled in her stomach, sending ribbons of awareness spiraling through her limbs.

She breathed deeply, shifting her gaze to his eyes. A pale, icy blue, they seemed to look straight into her soul, poking and prodding to discover her secrets.

Laura shook her head slightly and looked away from his even stare deliberately. One thing she certainly didn’t need was to start getting fanciful.

“I think she’s here,” he said into the phone. “Call me later.”

He punched the disconnect button and set the phone down on a small table near the door.

“Are you Laura?” he asked, his blue-eyed gaze sweeping up and down her body in a flat second.

Instinctively, she stiffened, forgetting all about that instant, momentary bolt of attraction. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin slightly. She had to do that anyway, to look him in the eye, but she hoped that the action looked defiant to him. Laura knew exactly what he was seeing when he stared at her.

A thirty-year-old woman, no makeup, wide brown eyes, dust brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore comfortable penny loafers, baggy jeans and an oversize sweatshirt that proclaimed Ain’t Life Grand? across the front.

Not very impressive, maybe. And as his neighbor had pointed out, probably not his type at all. But at least she could take care of a baby without looking as though she’d waded bare-handed through a war zone.

“Yes,” she answered stiffly, giving him the same slow once-over that he had given her. “Jeff Ryan?”

He nodded abruptly, stepped past her into the hall and grabbed up her suitcases. Dropping them next to the wall, he closed the front door, then faced her.

“Where the heck have you been?” he demanded. “I expected you a half an hour ago.”

She winced against the blare of the TV combining with the baby’s cries. Pitching her voice a bit louder than normal, she snapped, “The plane was delayed.”

Before he could comment on that, Laura sailed past Jeff Ryan into the unbelievably messy apartment. She paused long enough to turn off the TV, then followed the baby’s screams to a basket set on the floor. Inside that straw-colored wicker bed, the infant lay on a handmade quilt, its chubby arms and legs pumping madly against the air.

Laura’s heart melted.

Forgetting all about the man coming up behind her, she bent down, scooped up the baby and cradled it close to her chest. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she murmured as she rocked slowly back and forth, her right hand smoothing up and down the baby’s back. “You’re all right now. Laura’s got you.”

The screaming stopped.

The baby relaxed against her, its tiny body trembling as it sniffed and hiccuped.

“That’s amazing,” Jeff said softly, clearly afraid to break whatever spell Laura had woven around the child.

“Not really,” she said, sparing him a quick sidelong look. “A little comfort goes a long way.”

He pushed one hand through the little bit of hair allowed by military regulations and shook his head as he looked over the wreckage of his living room.

“I could use a little comfort myself,” he admitted. “She hasn’t been that quiet all day.”

A girl.

“What’s her name?”

“According to the papers, it’s Miranda. Miranda Powell.”

“Well, hello, Miranda Powell,” Laura whispered. She kissed the little head that was nestled just beneath her chin.

The baby’s fingers tugged at the material of her sweatshirt, but Laura felt the small pulls all the way to her heart.

Jeff collapsed onto the cluttered sofa, then winced, lifted one hip and reached beneath him to pull a halfempty baby bottle out of his way. Tossing it onto the floor with a fatalistic shrug, he turned his gaze back to Laura. “You’re not what I expected,” he said.

She was rarely what anyone expected and had long ago ceased to care. But she was already in love with this baby. Laura wanted the job enough to remain pleasant as she asked, “Really, why?”

He shrugged, his gaze running over her carelessly. “Peg said you’re a teacher, but you look like a kid yourself.”

Translation, she thought, short. It was hardly her fault that there were no tall genes in her family. “I’m thirty years old and a kindergarten teacher,” she told him. “I have references if you’d like proof.”

He held up one hand and shook his head. “Peggy’s word is good enough for me. Besides—” he waved one hand to encompass the destruction around him “—as you can see, I’m in no position to quibble. I need help with her until I can figure out what to do about her.”

One light brown eyebrow lifted. Laura felt it go up and tried to stop it, but she couldn’t. What was there to figure out? she wanted to ask. There was only one thing to do with a baby.

Love it.

He must have read her expression because one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. She didn’t want to notice what exceptional things even a hint of a smile did to his already handsome features. But she did.

“So,” he asked, “you still want the job?”

She shouldn’t. That sizzle of awareness she had experienced the second she laid eyes on him was not a good sign. But Laura couldn’t have said no even if she wanted to. Not with Miranda’s warm little body cuddled so closely.

“Yes.”

“You understand that it may be for the entire summer?” he asked. “I mean, if I can handle everything right, the baby shouldn’t be here more than a month or so. But you never know.”

Any interest Laura might have had in him dissolved at his obvious haste to rid himself of the baby. Which was just as well anyway. She had already had her shot at love—and she’d lost. Besides, she could never be attracted to a man who so obviously didn’t like children. Still, she wondered, what kind of man could turn his back on something so tiny? So defenseless?

“I understand perfectly,” she said, and watched him give a satisfied nod.

“Good.” He pushed himself up from the couch. “We can talk about salary tonight, if that’s all right with you. My rules are simple. You take care of the baby. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she said.

He gave her a quick nod and started past her toward one of the closed doors on the other side of the room. He stopped dead in his tracks, though, when she said, “Hold on a minute, Captain. Now it’s time for you to hear my rules.”

Two

Jeff turned around slowly to face her.

All he really wanted was a shower, a nap and a change of clothes. Marine Corps boot camp hadn’t been as rough on him as that one small baby girl had been. And yet, he thought as he looked into a pair of suddenly remote brown eyes, he had a feeling that his troubles were just beginning.

“Your rules?” he asked, determined to keep the upper hand in whatever argument was beginning to erupt. “Since when do employees make the rules?”

“Since now,” she declared firmly.

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. He should have known it wouldn’t be easy. Any friend of his sister’s was bound to be stubborn and independent as hell. He stared into those soft brown eyes of hers again and felt a stirring deep within him. Despite the fact that she was dressed like a refugee from the Goodwill, Jeff found himself wondering what her legs looked like when they weren’t being hidden by seemingly miles of denim fabric.

Why would she dress like such a frump? What was she hiding from?

And why did he care?

He didn’t, Jeff told himself. He couldn’t afford to feel the sense of awareness already creeping through him. Laura Morgan was going to be living in his house, taking care of that baby. He wasn’t about to mess that up by allowing his hormones to do his thinking for him.

Still, he told himself, he must be lonelier than he had thought, to be intrigued by a tiny woman dressed in clothes two sizes too big for her.

The look in her eyes as he continued to stare at her only grew frostier. So much for her sweatshirt, he smirked inwardly. He’d be willing to bet that she hadn’t found anything “grand” about life in years.

But, since the baby was cooing contentedly, he was willing to put up with the poor man’s Mary Poppins. As for his hormones—apparently, he needed to spend some time with one or two lady friends. That should take care of any bizarre interest in Laura Morgan.

“Okay,” he said at last, folding his arms across his chest and completely ignoring the sticky substances on his T-shirt. “What are these rules?”

She nodded. “I’ll stay here and take care of the baby for the summer, but...”

“Yeah?”

She inhaled sharply and tried to draw herself up to a formidable height. He could have told her it was a futile attempt. She couldn’t be more than five foot one. And that was no one’s idea of intimidating.

“You’re not hiring me to be your housekeeper.” She paused for a look around at the mess his apartment had become. “Or,” she added, “your cook and laundress.”

Insulted, Jeff tried to defend himself. “Look, until this morning, everything was under control—”

“Also,” she said, cutting him off neatly, “there will be no walking around naked, no women strolling in and out of the apartment—”

“What are you—?”

“One of your neighbors thought it prudent to warn me about the fact that you’re what she calls a ‘ladies’ man.’”

He shook his head and gave a resigned sigh. “Let me guess. White hair, big blue eyes?”

She nodded, but he thought he saw the ghost of a smile twitching at her lips.

“Agnes Butler,” he said, the elderly woman’s features forming in his mind. “For lack of anything better to do, she spies on me.”

Twin brown eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “Spying? Sounds a little paranoid.”

Briefly, he recalled all the times he had strolled down that short hallway and spotted his neighbor, her eye glued to a partially opened door. Yeah, spying was the right word.

“You’re not paranoid,” he told her, “if they really are after you.”

A moment or two of silence passed. At last, she nodded and said, “Yes, well, the rest of the rules are pretty simple.”

“There’s more?” he asked.

She smiled. “No foul language—”

“Now, just a minute—” he said, trying to interrupt, but she was on a roll.

“No talking before coffee in the morning, and no loud TV or radio after eleven at night.”

Jeff stared at her. Was she finished? Or just pausing for breath? A few seconds ticked by, and he told himself that apparently, she’d reached the end of her demands. Well, fine. Now it was his turn.

He would tell her just what she could do with her rules. This was his house after all. Where did she get off telling him when he could or couldn’t watch his TV? And what about women? So he didn’t exactly have a parade of females trooping in and out of his apartment every day and night. If he wanted to, he wasn’t going to be stopped by her.

“Listen up, lady,” he started, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are...”

She froze, stiffening for a fight.

Miranda sniffled, shifting against a suddenly tense body.

Recognizing the signs of baby distress already, Jeff lowered his voice and spoke in a quiet, reasonable tone. “You can’t order me around. I’m the employer here, you know.”

“I can tell you what I expect,” Laura countered, her voice matching his. “And if you don’t like it, you can find someone else.”

He didn’t believe the threat. Even as she said it, her arms were tightening around the baby as if afraid that he would try to take Miranda from her forcibly.

No worries there.

But with the position he was in, he couldn’t afford to take the risk. If she left, he’d be right back where he started that morning. In deep trouble, begging Peggy for help.

All right, he could swallow a little bit of pride for the sake of his sanity. And he could even learn to deal with her ridiculous rules. Anything to keep her here and the baby quiet. After all, it wasn’t forever. Just for the summer. By the end of three months, he would either have found a suitable replacement guardian for the baby or, God help him, a permanent nanny to help him raise Hank Powell’s kid.

Abruptly, he said, “Fine. Agreed.”

“Thank you.” She accepted his defeat gracefully. “But as long as we’re discussing this situation, I should like to add one more rule to my list.”

He snorted disbelievingly. “What’s left?”

“I’d like to state clearly right from the first,” she said, “that I am not interested in you romantically, so I would appreciate it very much if you would keep your distance.”

Jeff laughed, the first good laugh he’d had all morning. Pointedly running his gaze over her slowly, he shook his head and said, “No problem.”

Once Jeff was out of the shower—and Laura had even resorted to turning on the TV so she wouldn’t have to listen to the spray of water and imagine it pummeling his naked, no doubt gorgeous body—they set things to rights.

The living room was a disaster.

With a fed and changed Miranda watching happily from her wicker basket, Laura and Jeff worked together to rebuild the place. So much for her rule about not being a housekeeper. As most of the clutter was cleared away, she noticed that the apartment wasn’t exactly homey. In fact, it was surprisingly impersonal.

A sprinkling of framed photos and commendations hung on the beige walls, but there were no paintings. Tweed fabric covered the couch and two chairs that sat on the tan wall-to-wall carpeting. There was an impressive stereo system and a large-screen TV on one wall, and a fireplace that looked as though it had never been used stood on the opposite wall. A two-person table sat at the end of the kitchen, and there were two bedrooms, one on either side of the single bathroom.

She tried not to think about having to share that bathroom with Jeff Ryan for the next three months. Luckily for her, she no longer noticed things like just how good-looking Jeff Ryan was. If she had been the slightest bit interested in finding a man, these next few months could have been torture.

Of course, she had thought she was past noticing the fresh, clean scent of a man’s aftershave, too.

“So,” he said, and snapped her attention to him. He folded up yet another brown paper grocery bag as he asked, “How come a kindergarten teacher didn’t already have a summer job nailed down?”

She stacked the last can of formula in what had been an empty cabinet, then closed the door and straightened up. “I did,” she admitted. “This one sounded like more fun.”

He snorted a laugh. “More fun than what?”

“Transferring card catalogs to computer in the local library.”

He whistled low and long. “You’re right, not fun.” He glanced at the baby a few feet away. “But this is?”

“Sure.”

“Lady, you’ve got a strange sense of fun.”

Peggy had told Laura that Jeff not only had no experience taking care of children, but also that he didn’t even like them.

She frowned at him. “Your sister has three kids. Don’t you remember how cute they were when they were little?”

He shrugged and bent down to neatly place the folded bags in the appropriate rack just inside the pantry door. “I remember they cried. A lot,” he said as he stood up again and closed the door. “They smelled bad and they couldn’t even talk to tell you why they cried all the time.”

“No wonder you never visit Peggy and her family.”

He looked at her. “Is that what she said?”

Was he offended? How could he be? “It’s true, isn’t it? You see them about once a year?”

“Yeah, it’s true.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned one hip against the blond wood countertop. “She tell you why?”

“She said you’re uncomfortable around kids.” Laura didn’t tell him the rest. Did he really need to know that his own sister, though she loved him, thought he was too self-involved to be concerned about family?

“That’s part of it,” he admitted, letting his gaze slide from Laura to the baby, now chewing contentedly on her own fist. “But mostly it’s because I can’t even talk to Peggy and her husband anymore.”

“Why not?” Laura asked. Peggy and Jim Cummings were two of the nicest people she’d ever known. Was the woman’s own brother too dense to see that?

He shook his head and smiled without humor. “Before they had those kids, Peggy and Jim and I had some good times. Skiing, sailing, took a few trips together.”

“And?” she prodded, interested now.

“And, the minute the first kid was born, it was all over.” He pushed away from the counter, walked across the utilitarian kitchen and stood, staring down at the baby in the basket. “They became parents in the worst possible sense. All they talked about was Thomas. His teeth. His upset stomach. His first steps. The first time he used a spoon by himself, you would have thought he was Einstein reincarnated.”

Laura smiled to herself as she stared at Jeff’s broad back. His sister was still like that Just a few weeks ago, Peggy had called to crow over Tina winning the second-grade spelling bee.

Like any other good parent would.

“But that’s perfectly natural,” Laura said, and walked to stand beside him. Looking down at Miranda, she smiled. “They’re proud of their children.”

“They’re boring,” he countered, swiveling his head to stare at her. “They used to have plans. Ambitions. Now those ambitions are all for the kids.”

An emotion she couldn’t quite identify flickered in his pale blue eyes briefly, then disappeared. “All parents want good things for their kids,” she said quietly.

“Sure,” he countered. “But do they have to stop being people themselves to be good parents?”

“Peggy and Jim are terrific people,” she argued, defending her friends.

He shook his head as he looked at her. Once again, Laura felt a flutter of awareness dance through her bloodstream. Deliberately, she squashed it.

“Is it so wrong to have ambitions and dreams for your kids?” she asked, determined to keep this conversation going, if only to keep her mind too busy to daydream.

He thought about her question for a long minute, then shrugged. “Not for Peggy and Jim,” he said, shifting his gaze back to the baby, now intently staring up at the two adults. “But that’s not me,” he continued. “I have plans for my career. Plans I’ve worked toward long and hard.”

“Everybody makes plans,” she said.

It was as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I’m going to be the youngest general in the corps,” he stated. Then he glanced at the wicker basket. “And I’m not going to let anything stop me.”

Three

A nightmare.

In less than twelve hours, his life had become a waking nightmare.

Jeff stumbled across the living room, stepped on a fallen pacifier and grunted as the dull yet stabbing pain lanced from his arch straight up his leg.

“Are you all right?” Laura asked, her voice high enough to carry over the baby’s wailing.

“Dandy,” he muttered, then flopped down beside her on the couch. Instantly, he lifted one hip and pulled a leaking baby bottle from under his butt. “How can one kid need so much stuff?” he grumbled to no one in particular as he slammed the plastic bottle down onto the coffee table.

Laura had only one lamp on, and in the dim light, he surveyed what had, only that morning, been his sanctuary.

Blankets, clean diapers, bottles, pacifiers, lotion, powder—there was enough junk in the already small room to satisfy a battalion of babies. So why wasn’t the only baby present happy?

“Why is she screaming like that?” he demanded.

“I think she’s teething,” Laura said, and hitched Miranda higher on her shoulder.

“Perfect,” he said. “How long does that last?”

In the soft light, Laura smirked at him. “According to my watch, she should be finished in another three and a half minutes.”

His eyebrows lifted. He knew sarcasm when he heard it, and if he wasn’t so damn tired, he might have taken a shot himself. As it was, his heart just wasn’t in it.

Laura whispered to the baby while stroking the infant’s back in long, gentle motions. Jeff watched her, at first for lack of anything else to do, but after a moment, because he couldn’t seem to look away.

And he also couldn’t figure out why. That nightgown of hers certainly wasn’t alluring. An oversized T-shirt emblazoned Life Is A Trip, Don’t Miss It hung to midthigh. Although, he thought, the surprisingly shapely legs revealed by that shirt were not bad at all. As he watched, she shifted slightly, tugging the hem down fruitlessly.

Her thick brown hair lay loose on her shoulders, and he had to admit that the casual style complemented her features far better than the scraped-back ponytail she’d worn earlier. Her high cheekbones were more sharply defined in the soft light. Light brown eyebrows arched high over eyes that looked as deep and mysterious as a moonless night. Her generous mouth was curved in a half smile even as the baby in her arms flailed tiny fists against her face. Laura merely caught one of those fists, opened it and kissed the small, chubby palm.

His jaw tightened, and something inside him twisted. A curl of desire trickled through him, and he deliberately squashed it. Shifting position on the sofa, he wished he had taken the time to grab his robe before leaving his room. Wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, Jeff felt suddenly, decidedly uncomfortable.

He was staring.

In the shadowy light, Laura saw his pale blue eyes darken as he watched her. Her gaze slid away, unfortunately dropping to his bare, muscular chest. Her heart beat faster, and her palms were damp. Breath after breath straggled into her lungs even as she told herself that she was probably just too warm in the overheated apartment.

All she needed was to turn the heater down.

This had nothing to do with how attractive he was. After all, she didn’t even notice things like that anymore.

Laura’s gaze flicked to his again, then quickly away. Her stomach fluttered and twitched. Why was he looking at her so strangely? She wasn’t exactly a supermodel, so what did he find so fascinating that he couldn’t stop watching her?

Miranda sucked in a gulp of air, coughed, choked, then cried again, pumping her little legs against Laura’s chest. Immediately Laura dismissed Jeff Ryan and the strange things he did to her stomach and concentrated on the baby.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she soothed in a low, humming tone.

“No, it’s not,” Jeff said, his voice grumpy. “Is she ever going to shut up so I can get some sleep tonight?”

Laura frowned at him, furious at his impatience. Carefully, she shifted the baby to her lap and began to rock slowly. “Well, now that you’ve told her that she’s disturbing you, I’m sure she’ll settle right down,” Laura snapped. “After all, how can the throbbing pain of new, sharp teeth slicing through her gums compare with your being tired?”

He scowled at her and sat forward, leaning his forearms on his thighs. “You know—” he started to say.

“Yes, I do,” she cut him off neatly. “I know that you don’t give a—” she broke off, searched for a word, then continued “—hoot about this baby. All you care about is yourself.”

“Up until eleven this morning,” he reminded her, “that’s all I had to worry about.”

“Well, things’ve changed.”

“Tell me about it.” He waved one hand at her and the baby. “In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve inherited a baby and a snotty nanny.”

“Snotty?”

“Snotty,” he repeated.

Bouncing the baby a little faster on her knee, Laura’s rocking motion became a bit jerky. “You are the one who needed my help,” she told him stiffly, still smarting from the “snotty” remark.

“Help,” he clarified. “Not harassment.”

“Now I’m harassing you?”

“What do you call it?” he asked hotly.

“I call it looking out for this baby when no one else seems willing.”

Miranda sniffled and rubbed her eyes with both fists. Then, reaching down, she snatched at the hem of Laura’s nightgown and lifted it. Jamming the fabric into her mouth, she chewed furiously.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t willing,” he said.

“Of course you did,” Laura countered, paying no attention to the suddenly quiet baby in her arms. “Not five minutes after I got here, you were talking about finding a way out of this situation.”

A long silent moment passed, neither of them aware that Miranda had stopped screaming. Finally, Jeff stood up, and ran one hand across the top of his head. Something Laura had already noticed he did quite often when he was upset.

“Look,” he said, gazing down at her in the half-light, “maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

“How’s that?” She looked up at him, determined to keep her gaze locked on his face. Thankfully, she was immune to the distraction of a well-muscled chest, but there was no point in taking chances.

“I’m not some kind of monster,” he told her, and his voice sounded distant, quiet. “I don’t even hate kids.”

Wow. A testimonial. Her hold on Miranda tightened protectively.

“It’s just that I’m not...” He shook his head and looked off into the shadowy corner of the room. “Hell, I’m nobody’s idea of father material.”

Was that a wistful tone in his voice? “You could be,” she said hesitantly. “If you tried.”

He snorted a choked laugh. “You’re a lot more sure than I am, Mary Poppins,” he commented.

Laura stood up, hitching the baby higher in her arms. Forcing herself to look into Jeff’s eyes, she said, “I thought Marines weren’t afraid of a challenge.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic half smile. She told herself that it was lucky for her she was beyond noticing things like the dimple he had in his right cheek.

“Challenges, no,” he told her. “Slaughters, yes. And I have a feeling that kid’s already got me outnumbered.” Pausing, he listened for a minute, then said, “Hey, she’s not crying anymore.”

True, Laura thought. Miranda had finally settled down, and neither one of them had realized it.

Jeff looked at the baby in her arms, then pulled in a deep breath as his gaze slipped lower.

Laura saw his jaw tighten. Glancing down, she looked for whatever it was that had caused such a reaction in him. Her eyes widened immediately. The hem of her nightshirt was drawn up to just beneath her left breast. Exposed to Jeff’s view was not only a wide expanse of flesh, but the electric blue lace bikini underwear she wore. Laura’s one concession to femininity in her wardrobe had always been her secret weakness for beautiful lingerie.

Well, it wasn’t a secret anymore.

“Oh, my goodness,” she blurted as she tugged at the fabric even while turning her back on Jeff.

“Wow,” he murmured.

Laura silently thanked heaven that it was so dark in the living room. She felt the heated flush of embarrassment rush to her cheeks and was relieved he wouldn’t see it.

“Who would have thought you’d be hiding lace under all that camouflage you were wearing earlier?”

It would have been too much to hope for that he would ignore what he’d just seen. But did he really have to talk about it, too?

“I think it would be better if we just pretend this never happened,” Laura said as she tugged at the fabric, hoping to restore her dignity. But the baby, happily chewing on the soft cotton, was blissfully unaware of Laura’s predicament. Little fingers curled into the material and hung on with a surprisingly strong grip.

“Nothing did happen,” Jeff stated.

Laura shot him a quick, furtive look over her shoulder. An odd gleam shone in his eyes, but she dismissed it as a trick of the low lighting. For whatever reason, he wasn’t going to talk about her underwear anymore. That was enough.

“Good,” she said quickly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she grunted as she stepped around him, keeping her back to him at all times. “I think I’ll put Miranda down. She seems contented enough now.”

He chuckled.

She heard him, but since she still wasn’t decently covered, she didn’t turn around. “What’s so funny?” she demanded, stopping just outside her open bedroom door.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “It’s just that I was thinking how alike Miranda and I are after all.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, knowing even as she did so that it was a mistake.

“It means that pulling a woman’s nightgown up always makes me pretty content, too.”

She inhaled sharply. Straightening her shoulders, she ignored the deep chuckles coming from behind her and walked into her room. When the door was safely closed, Laura leaned back against it.

Miranda laughed, let go of the nightgown and patted Laura’s cheeks.

“Oh, sure,” she said to the smiling baby. “Now you cooperate.”

Jeff cupped his head in his hands and inhaled the scent of the strong black coffee in front of him. His eyes felt like two marbles in a bucket of sand.

Between the baby’s restless first night in his apartment and the heart-stopping peep show Laura had unwittingly given him, he had lain awake most of the night. Visions of blue lace and smooth, lightly tanned flesh had haunted him.

Even now, he could see her, flustered and embarrassed as she turned away from him. If the light in the room had been better, Jeff was willing to bet that he could have seen a blush steal across her cheeks.

How long had it been since he’d known a woman to blush?

He inhaled sharply, blew the air out of his lungs in a frustrated sigh and told himself that he would be in real bad shape if he was attracted to women like Laura Morgan.

Thankfully, he wasn’t.

Give him a well-dressed, sophisticated career woman every time. The motherly type had never done a thing for him. Although, you really couldn’t classify those blue lace bikini panties as motherly.

He groaned quietly.

Should have taken another sick day, he thought A man just couldn’t function on two hours’ sleep. Unless of course, he thought as he leaned back in his chair, he was on a battlefield. Live ammunition whizzing past your head had a way of waking you right up.

“Captain?”

Jeff blinked groggily, almost surprised to find himself in his office. He looked at the younger man poking his head in the doorway. “What is it, Corporal Warren?”

“A Private Higgins is here, sir. Says he has those files you wanted.”

“Send him in,” Jeff ordered sharply. He’d been waiting all morning for these records to arrive.

A young, eager-looking redheaded kid in the standard camouflage utility uniform strode into his office. File folders tucked neatly beneath his left arm, the kid came to an abrupt stop in front of Jeffs desk and flashed a picture-perfect salute.

Nodding absentmindedly, Jeff reached for the files.

“This is all I could find, sir,” the private said as he handed the manila folders over. “If you’d like, I could make a few calls, see if there’s anything else available.”

Jeff opened the files and glanced quickly over the pages inside. Then he looked up again. “That won’t be necessary, Private. Thank you.”

“Aye, sir.” Another salute, an abrupt about-face and the kid was gone.

“Corporal Warren,” Jeff called. His clerk appeared instantly.

“Sir?”

“Close my door, Corporal. No interruptions.”

“Aye, sir.”

In seconds, the door was closed and Jeff was alone. Picking up his coffee, he started reading all about the man who had given him Miranda. Not that he didn’t remember him. But it had been more than five years since he’d seen the sergeant. And in the military, an officer served with so many men—sometimes names and faces blurred without a good prodding of the memory.

Twenty minutes later, Jeff sat back in his chair, flipping the file closed with the tips of his fingers. Setting his elbows on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingers and stared at the windows opposite his desk.

Memories raced through his mind. Desert sun, mind-boggling heat and the constant adrenaline rush of impending battle. Days and nights spent in the company of men willing to die at a moment’s notice.

Abruptly, he reached for his phone and the Rolodex on the corner of his desk. He flipped quickly through the cards until he’d found the one he wanted.

Punching in a phone number, he held the receiver to his ear, sat back again and waited.

Laura woke up instantly and lay perfectly still.

Even before her mind had assured her that everything was all right, she heard his voice, a hushed whisper in the darkness.

Turning her head on the pillow until she was facing the newly purchased crib against the far wall in her room, Laura saw Jeff, leaning his forearms on the top rail, staring down at the sleeping baby.

“I remember your father now, kiddo,” he was saying, his voice oddly tight. “I called up his service records today.”

The baby whimpered in her sleep, and Jeff reached down to awkwardly pat her. Laura smiled in the darkness.

“He was a good man, your dad,” Jeff said. “Got a Bronze Star for bravery.”

Miranda kicked her blankets off, and Jeff carefully replaced them.

A trickle of warmth moved through Laura. Maybe she had misjudged him. Maybe he cared more for the baby than even he knew.

Moonlight, peering through a part in the curtains, washed her otherwise dark room with a pale ivory cast. In the indistinct light, Jeff was no more than a shadow, yet she could read tension in every line of his body.

“We fought together, you know.” He sighed heavily and shook his head, as if lost in the memories. “Hank kept me from making a damn fool of myself during my first battle. And I saved his sergeant’s stripes for him when he came up against a major with more brass than brains.”

Laura held her breath, wanting to say something to him, to let him know that she wasn’t asleep. But at the same time, she wanted him to go on. She wanted to know more about him.

She told herself that it was only because she was working for him and would be living in his house for the next three months.

But it was more than that, and she knew it.

Somehow, in the past twenty-four hours, he had forced some of the ice around her heart to melt. Why and how, she wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was the helpless expression on his face when he looked at Miranda. And maybe it was what he did for a pair of boxer shorts.

She scowled to herself, disgusted at this turn of events. Laura didn’t want to care about another man. She’d already found and lost the love of her life. What was the point of settling for second best?

“You had a good dad, Miranda,” Jeff said quietly, bringing Laura’s attention back to him. “I’ll do my best to see to it you get a good one again.” He reached into the crib and smoothed his palm gently across the top of the baby’s head. “Good night, kiddo.”

So much for her giving him the benefit of the doubt. All of her warm, fuzzy feelings for nothing. Apparently, he still had every intention of finding a way to squeak out of being Miranda’s guardian.

Laura bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from speaking. How could she possibly be attracted to a man who could so casually walk away from a baby entrusted to his care?

Her gaze followed him to the door and the slice of light spearing in from the living room. Laura ground her teeth together in frustration. She couldn’t say anything. If she did, he would know that she had deliberately lain there eavesdropping.

“And good night to you, too, Laura,” he added softly, just before leaving and closing the door behind him.

She sat straight up in bed.

Blast him. He had known the whole time that she was awake! He must be laughing himself sick right now, guessing what it had cost her to keep her mouth shut

Well, he wouldn’t laugh long. Whether he knew it or not, he had just given her permission to make a few comments on what he’d been telling Miranda.

Casting a quick look at the baby, Laura climbed out of bed and headed for the door. She paused briefly to snatch up her bathrobe and throw it on.

If they were going to talk, she’d make sure his mind was on what she was saying. Not on her underwear.

Four

In the kitchen, Jeff smiled to himself as Laura’s bedroom door opened, then closed again softly. He’d known she wouldn’t stay in her room. In fact, he’d been counting on it. For reasons he didn’t want to explore at the moment, he wanted, no, needed to see her.

Picking up the chilled bottle of wine, he poured each of them a glass and was turning around to hand it to her when she walked in.

Surprised, she blinked and stopped dead. Instantly, the taunting memory of blue lace bikinis withered and died along with his fantasies. Looking her over quickly, he wondered just how old that bathrobe was.

Faded pink terry cloth hung on her small frame with all the grace and dignity of a drunk clutching a light pole. The nubby fabric, rubbed smooth in places, was a patchwork of stains and tears. Long, loose threads waved lazily every time she moved, and the single front pocket looked stuffed with tissues and God knew what else.

“Nice robe,” he commented wryly.

She tightened the threadbare sash around her waist and tossed her hair back behind her shoulders. One light eyebrow arched high on her forehead as she looked him up and down quickly. “Nice camouflage,” she snapped. “Were you out hiding in the forest?”

He grinned. Ratty robe or not, he was glad to see her.

“You knew I was awake the whole time, didn’t you?”

Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair looked soft and tousled, as if a man had spent hours running his fingers through it.

Jeff inhaled sharply. Better if he didn’t let his mind wander too far down that road. Deliberately, he took another look at her worn robe before meeting her deep brown eyes. Those shadowy depths sparkled with impatience and suspicion as she watched him.

“Not the whole time,” he said with a shrug, and held out one of the crystal wineglasses toward her. “Wine?”

She ignored the offer. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was talking to Miranda,” he said, wondering now why it was that he’d wanted to see her. “Do you want the wine or not?”

“Oh.” She looked at the glass, then back to him. “I don’t think so.”

Still holding it toward her, he said, “It’s only half a glass, Laura.”

She thought about it for a moment longer, then reached out and took it from him. “All right. Thanks.”

Inclining his head slightly, he said, “You’re welcome.” Taking his wine, he walked past her into the living room. A single lamp had been left on. The room lay mostly in darkness, with deeper shadows gathering in the corners.

Tossing his hat onto the coffee table, Jeff sat down on the couch, leaned his head against the high back and sighed heavily. Damn, it felt good to relax. He propped one foot on the edge of the table, and as proof of his tiredness, didn’t move a muscle when Laura stepped over his extended leg to take a seat beside him on the sofa.

Turning his head slightly, he looked at her. She was watching him again, with that solemn stare he was already getting used to.

“Bad day?” she asked.

“Long day,” he corrected.

Moments of sweet silence stretched out between them. After being surrounded by people and the noise and hustle at the base all day, Jeff had always craved the peace and quiet of a few minutes alone. Solitude helped him think. Gave him time to consider his past, his future.

He’d been alone for so many years, this small ritual was second nature to him. But tonight it was different. Tonight there was someone else’s breathing whispering into the darkness. Instead of absolute, undisturbed silence, he heard the hush of skin brushing against skin as she crossed her legs beneath her, Indian style. When she took a sip of her wine, the tiny clink of her front teeth hitting the crystal sounded out.

Surprising himself, Jeff found that he was actually enjoying sharing this moment of quiet with someone who valued peace enough to know not to talk.

It was...comforting in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Was it true?” she asked softly.

Jeff smiled to himself. Apparently, Laura could be quiet. She simply preferred not to. “What?” he asked.

“Everything you said about Miranda’s father?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, took a drink of wine and sat higher on the couch, half turning to look at her.

“But you said yesterday that you didn’t even remember him.”

“I know.” He reached up and rubbed one hand across his face. Jeff had read through Hank Powell’s files three times. Each time, he had asked himself how he could have mentally misfiled the man.

The only answer he had come up with was one he was sure Laura wouldn’t understand.

“I just don’t get it,” she said. Scooping one hand through her hair, she propped her elbow on the sofa back. “How can you forget a friend?”

Jeff shook his head. “I didn’t say he was a friend.”

“You said he saved you from making a fool of yourself.”

He winced tightly. There was a memory he didn’t particularly want to relive.

“He did,” Jeff admitted, hoping she’d let it go at that. He should have known better.

“Then—”

“He wasn’t my friend,” Jeff interrupted. “He was my sergeant.”

In the dim light, he saw her shake her head in confusion. Suddenly unable to sit still, he got up, walked to the nearest window and yanked on a nylon cord. The window blinds flew up with a loud clatter. When they were secured, Jeff set his wineglass down on the windowsill, leaned both palms on either side of it and stared through the glass at the town outside.

Bright splashes of neon decorated the night. Shimmers of primary colors reflected off the night sky. Convenience stores, gas stations, even the theater down the street added to the blazing clutter.

He stared at civilization’s landmarks until they faded into a kaleidoscopic blur of light and color. Slowly, his mind replaced the familiar view with one he’d spent years trying to forget.

A sun-washed desert rose up in his memory. Men and machinery moving across endless miles of sand and heat under a sky so wide and empty it glittered in the noonday sun like a stainless steel skillet.

Hank Powell, a grizzled, tough, no-nonsense first sergeant, had had the guts to look a fresh, young, know-it-all lieutenant in the face and tell him he was wrong.

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