“Don’t Misunderstand, Sergeant. I’m Going To Take Care Of Your Baby. Not You.”

One light brown eyebrow lifted and Kathy’s toes curled. Oh, brother, what was she letting herself in for?

“Strictly business?” he asked.

She cleared her throat noisily. “Business.”

“Good. It’s a deal, then,” Brian said, and held out one hand.

She looked at it as if it were a snake and had to work up her nerve before she slid her hand into his. But even braced for the contact with his skin, as his fingers were curled around hers, she felt a white-hot burst of light shoot straight from her fingertips, along her arm to dazzle her heart.

She was in deep trouble. She could feel it in her bones.

The Daddy Salute
Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my editor, Karen Taylor Richman, with thanks for her support and her belief in me. Karen, I wish you joy with your little miracle. You’re entering an amazing new world…enjoy the magic.

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, Maureen 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.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

One

“You can’t die! Not now.” Kathy Tate turned the key one last time, listened to the dreaded coughing and droning of the engine, then shut it off and slapped the steering wheel. “For Pete’s sake,” she reminded her trusty Bug, “you just had a checkup.” An overhaul, she thought with disgust, that had cost her a whopping six hundred dollars.

The battered old VW sat silent, apparently having nothing to say in its own defense.

Well, perfect. She stared out the windshield at the tree-lined suburban street. How was she supposed to get into town and deliver the stack of résumés she’d been up all night typing and printing?

“U.S. Marines to the rescue, ma’am.” A deep voice interrupted her thoughts, and she slowly turned to look out the driver’s side window.

Oh, man. Talk about from the frying pan into the fire.

Her heartbeat did a weird little thump as she stared into the crystal-blue eyes of her across-the-hall neighbor, Sergeant Brian Haley. He and a friend of his had been playing basketball in the driveway when she’d left her apartment only a few minutes ago. She’d managed to get past them with just a quick wave, but now she was trapped. By her own blasted car. The traitor.

Her “rescuer” bent at the waist, put both hands on his knees and peered in at her. Sharply chiseled features, short, marine-regulation haircut and bare, tanned, sweat-dampened muscles that looked to have been meticulously carved into his chest made for one impressive package. Unfortunately, in the month since he’d moved in, she’d learned that he was all too aware of his impact on women.

Oh, not that he seemed conceited or anything. It was more subtle than that. When he smiled that crooked smile of his, it was clear that he fully expected a woman to turn into a puddle of goo. And, since Kathy Tate puddled for no man, she’d become something of a challenge to him. Lately it seemed that whenever she turned around, there he was.

“Need some help, ma’am?” another deep voice spoke up, and Kathy swiveled her head to look out the passenger window at Brian’s friend. Judging by the high-and-tight haircut, he was also a marine. But then, in Bayside, a town only a mile or so from Camp Pendleton, you couldn’t swing a broom without hitting a marine.

“No, thanks,” she said. She didn’t need help. What she needed was for her stupid car to start.

“Kathy Tate,” Brian said, “this is First Sergeant Jack Harris. Jack, meet Kathy. My new neighbor.”

“Hi.” He gave her a friendly smile that Kathy returned with ease once she noted the gold wedding ring on his left hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

“I say she needs help, Jack.” Brian shook his head slowly as he gave the little car a good once-over. Then, looking past her at his friend, he asked, “What do you say?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Kathy turned to stare at Brian. One corner of his mouth was tilted into that patented lady-killer smile, but his eyes were all innocence. Yeah. Like she believed he was an innocent. “Okay, guys, I appreciate the offer. But look, the car will be okay. It just needs a rest, that’s all.”

“A rest?” Brian repeated with a short laugh. “For how many years?”

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and gritted her teeth. It was one thing for her to insult poor old Charlie the VW; it was quite another for somebody else to take a shot at it. “Sergeant Haley…”

“Gunnery Sergeant,” he corrected for her.

“Whatever,” she snapped, and shot him a look that should have singed the soles of his feet. However, he seemed completely unaffected. “I didn’t ask to be rescued, so why don’t you just go back to your game?”

He grinned at her and glanced at his friend. “Well, Jack, do the marines wait around to be asked or do we go where angels fear to tread?”

“Ooh-rah!” the other man said in a hoarse grunt.

“Oh, brother…”

“From the Halls of Montezuma…” Brian intoned in a deep, steely voice.

“…to the shores of Evans Avenue,” Jack finished for him as they both straightened up.

“Come on, you guys,” she said loudly, but they were already moving toward the back of her car. Kathy slapped her forehead against the steering wheel once, muttered a curse she hoped her car understood, then hopped out to keep an eye on the cavalry.

They had the little hood open by the time she got there. With their backs to her, she had quite a view of what looked like miles of tanned, muscled flesh. If nothing else, she had to give it to the corps. When they advertised “building men,” they weren’t kidding.

“So,” Jack asked, “what do you think the problem is?”

“Nothing a good round of mortar fire couldn’t fix.”

“A mortar?” Kathy repeated, leaning over them, trying to keep an eye on what they were doing.

Brian glanced at her over his shoulder and explained. “It’s a gun. A really big gun.”

“Very funny,” she retorted.

“Who’s kidding?” he asked on a snort of laughter. “This thing’s on its last legs.”

“VWs can go forever,” she said.

“And this one obviously has.” He shook his head, reached past a cluster of greasy wires to the shadowy interior of the engine and pushed and poked around for a minute or two. “Still,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else, “never let it be said that a marine couldn’t get a machine to run.”

“Oh, perish the thought,” she muttered. Kathy thought she heard Jack chuckle, but she couldn’t be sure. A moment later, Brian stood up abruptly and almost knocked her over. He reached for her automatically to steady her, and where their hands touched, she felt a blast of white-hot heat that nearly swamped her.

He let her go instantly and took a step back, as if he’d experienced that strange sensation, too, and wasn’t sure what to do about it. Heck, Kathy knew what she was going to do. Ignore it.

“Okay,” Brian said, as Jack stood up. “Kathy, get in the driver’s seat, and when I tell you, try to start it.”

“Fine,” she said, knowing it was pointless to try to reason with a man who was attempting to outsmart a car. Besides, it would get her out of his immediate presence and put a nice, solid car door between them.

Once she was settled, she pushed the clutch in, grasped the key and waited for the signal. That’s when she heard it—a stream of harsh, guttural sounds pouring out of Brian Haley’s mouth. He shouted, he snarled and he did it all in a language she’d never heard before, though she suspected its origins.

Then he called out, “Okay, try it now!”

She did, whispering a little prayer as she turned the key. Instantly good old Charlie fired up, his throaty roar splintering the otherwise quiet of the afternoon.

Both men strolled up to the driver’s side window, and Kathy turned to look up at them.

“Outstanding,” Jack said.

“Consider yourself rescued,” Brian told her.

Okay, so she hadn’t wanted their help. She hadn’t wanted to be indebted to Sergeant Smile. But it had turned out all right. The least she could do was be gracious. Looking right at him, she squinted into the sunlight and said, “Thanks.”

One brown eyebrow lifted, and he nodded his head briefly. “You’re welcome.”

Then, because she couldn’t stand not knowing, she heard herself ask, “Were you speaking in German a minute ago?”

That grin of his widened, and she had to take a firm grip on her blood pressure.

Shrugging, he said, “I was stationed in Germany a few years ago. Learned enough curse words to give any German car a taste of home and shock it into doing what it’s supposed to do.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she wondered aloud.

“Lady,” Brian said as he leaned one hand on the roof of her car and lowered his head to within inches of hers, “as you get to know me, you’ll find I’m just one surprise after another.”

Kathy smiled sweetly at him and said, “I don’t like surprises, Sergeant.”

“Gunnery Sergeant.”

“Whatever.” Then she shoved the car into first, gunned the motor and took off, letting the gunnery sergeant scramble to find his footing.

As the VW coughed and snarled its way down the street, Brian shook his head slowly. “That woman is really starting to get to me.”

“Yeah?” Jack said and slapped him on the back. “From where I’m standing, it looks like Hands-on Haley is striking out.”

Brian shot him a look and grinned. “Jack, my man, I’m just comin’ up to bat.”

“Not a chance. That was a clean swing and a miss. I call that strike one.” Laughing, he started back toward the driveway to finish their interrupted basketball game.

Brian stared in the direction the VW had gone, long after it had disappeared from sight. Strike one, huh? Well, he had two more coming to him. And he’d never been a man to give up easily.

“Hi, neighbor.”

Caught. Kathy stopped short at the sound of that deep, rumbling voice. She’d hoped to get into her apartment without seeing him again today. But apparently the man had some sort of radar where women were concerned. She took a long, steadying breath before turning around to face the man standing behind her.

It didn’t help.

As always, her pulse skittered and her heart pounded against her rib cage. Her palms went damp and her mouth went dry.

Brian Haley, six foot two inches of solid muscle and practiced charm stood in the open doorway of his apartment and smiled down at her. And it was truly an amazing smile. Kathy was forced to remind herself, again, that she wasn’t interested.

Unfortunately, that fact was getting harder and harder to remember.

“Been shopping?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb and folding his arms across his broad chest, now covered in a red T-shirt emblazoned with the U.S. Marine Corps emblem.

She flipped her hair back out of her face, forced a smile and said, “Boy, nothing gets past you, does it?” Then she hitched the twin grocery sacks in her arms a bit higher.

His grin only widened at the sarcasm. Reaching for the bags, he cradled them both in one brawny arm and said, “Marines are trained observers.”

“Lucky me,” she said, and took a moment to stick her key in the lock and turn it. Then she made a grab for her grocery bags. “Thanks for the help, but I’ll take them from here.”

“No trouble,” he said, moving out of reach. “Any more downstairs?”

Stubborn, that’s what he was. Stubborn and gorgeous and, like all good-looking men, programmed to flirt with any female in range. Well, she’d been flirted with before and withstood temptation. With her less-than-stellar track record in the romance department, resistance was the best defense.

“Your car give you any more trouble?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said. “Started up every time all afternoon.”

“Probably needs a tune-up, anyway,” he told her.

“It just had one, thanks.” She opened the door and walked inside, determined not to stand around in a too-narrow hallway with a man whose touch had the ability to start small electrical fires in her bloodstream.

Brian followed her in, still carrying the groceries. She’d let him inside, thank him for his help and then send him the heck out of there, fast.

He set the bags down on the bar counter separating the kitchen from the living room, then turned slowly to admire her place. It looked like her, he told himself. Soft, feminine. White lace curtains at the front windows splintered the afternoon sunshine into frothy patterns that lay across the wood floors in snowflake patterns. Overstuffed chairs and a love seat were pulled up to a round coffee table strewn with books and magazines. Pictures of country lanes and lighthouses dotted the walls, and the faint, sweet scent of lavender flavored the air.

“It’s nice,” he said after a long moment, and turned to look at her. Her soft brown hair fell straight to her shoulders, then curved under at the ends. A few wispy bangs feathered her forehead and her liquid chocolate eyes looked at him warily. Irritation fluttered through him. He still saw disinterest and a cool distance in her eyes every time she looked at him. After a month of living in such close quarters, you’d think she’d at least let her guard down a little.

Hell, he was a marine.

One of the good guys. Though he doubted that meant a thing to her.

He hid a smile as he realised she was standing in her kitchen, barricaded behind the counter. As far from him as she could possibly get.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “Look, I appreciate the help, but I—”

“You’re busy,” he finished for her. “I know.” He wasn’t surprised she was giving him the bum’s rush. Though she was always polite, she’d made it clear she didn’t want to get to know him as well as he’d like to know her.

And maybe that was a good thing. He didn’t like complications. And starting up an affair with a woman who lived right across the hall from him would definitely be complicated.

Then again, he thought with another quick look up and down her small, but curvy body, she just might be worth it.

She cleared her throat, and he blinked.

“Thank you…?” she said pointedly. “And goodbye…?”

“Right,” Brian said, nodding. But before he left, there was one thing he wanted to know. Moving a bit closer, he leaned both elbows on the faux butcher-block countertop, locked his gaze with hers and asked, “What exactly is it you don’t like about me?”

She looked startled by the question. Sliding her hands into the back pockets of her tight, faded jeans, she cocked her head to one side and said, “I never said I didn’t like you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he assured her.

She took a deep breath and sighed it out. “I don’t even know you.”

He gave her a small smile. “We could fix that.”

“No, thanks.” A quick shake of her head emphasized that statement.

“See what I mean?”

She frowned at him. “Now I’ve got a question for you, Sergeant Haley.”

“Gunnery Sergeant,” he corrected her.

“Whatever.”

“Shoot.”

Both of her eyebrows lifted, and she pursed her lips as if she was actually considering doing just that. A look like that could give a man pause.

After a long moment she asked, “Why are you trying so hard to make me like you?”

“I’m not trying to—”

“You replaced the fixture in the hallway,” she said, interrupting his futile attempts to deny her accusation.

Brian had to defend that one. “The landlord wasn’t going to do it anytime soon, and that hallway was like the black hole of Calcutta at night.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, and pulled her hands free of her pockets only to fold her arms across her chest. One foot started tapping against the kitchen floor.

He glanced at it, shrugged and said, “I guess I’m just a small-town kind of guy. Helpful, neighborly.”

She smirked at him. “You told me you were from Chicago.”

“My neighborhood was small.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “You fixed my doorbell without being asked.”

“Faulty wiring can cause a fire.” He smiled again. No response. So shoot him for being a nice guy.

“Heck, you even washed my car yesterday.”

“It was no trouble. I was washing mine, and yours looked as though it could use a bath.” Actually, in his opinion her dented, ancient, VW Bug looked as if it needed burying, but now didn’t seem the time to say so.

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, Kathy?” he asked, straightening up from the counter and looking down into brown eyes that had haunted more than a few of his dreams lately. “We’re the only two renters in this building younger than sixty. Why can’t we be sociable?”

She ignored the latter question and answered the former with a question of her own. “The point is, I don’t get it,” she snapped. “I’ve made it fairly obvious that I’m not interested, but you keep trying. Why?”

He’d asked himself that question often in the past four weeks, and he’d yet to come up with an answer. So instead of admitting that, he asked a question of his own.

“Is there any reason we can’t be friends?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Boy, you’re stubborn.”

“Marines don’t surrender without a fight.”

“There’s always a first time.”

“You haven’t know many marines, have you?” he asked.

“You’re my first.”

Now, he liked the sound of that.

Before he could say so, though, she stepped past him, and their arms brushed. Another lightninglike flash of heat shot through him, just as it had earlier today. She felt it, too. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her soft intake of breath.

He reached out and laid one hand on her forearm. The heat sizzled between them until she took his hand and lifted it off.

Looking into her eyes, he whispered, “There’s something between us, Kathy. You feel it, too.”

“The only thing between us is that hallway.”

“Pretending it isn’t there won’t make it go away.”

“Wanna bet?” she quipped, then walked to the open front door and stood beside it, clearly waiting for him to leave.

Ah, well, he thought. He headed for the doorway. As he stepped into the hall separating their apartments, he turned and laid one hand flat on the door before she could shut him out.

“I’m curious about something,” he said, letting his gaze slide over her features.

“What’s that?” She stood half-behind the door, using it as a shield.

“Is it all men you don’t trust?” he asked, and waited a beat before adding, “Or is it just me?”

One dark-brown eyebrow lifted slightly as she said, “It’s all men, Sergeant Haley…”

Well, good, he thought.

Then she added, “And especially you.”

Swell.

“I’m a very trustworthy guy,” he argued.

“And I should take your word for that, I suppose.”

“You could call my mother,” he offered with a grin.

Her lips twitched, but she shook her head. “Thanks. I’ll pass. Now, good night.”

Kathy closed the door and instinctively turned the lock. The snick it made as it clicked into place seemed overly loud to her in the sudden stillness. Then, going up on her toes, she put one eye to the peephole.

Brian backed up and stared right at her, as if he knew she was watching him. Winking, he said just loudly enough to be heard, “If you change your mind, my mom’s number is 555-7230.”

Two

The phone rang as soon as Brian entered his apartment. His mind still focusing on Kathy Tate, he crossed the room and absently noticed that the vertical blinds on the front windows were opened. Sunlight speared between the slats, laying prisonlike bars of pale-golden light across the floor. He shook that thought off, snatched up the receiver and said, “Hello?”

“Hi, Bri,” a throaty, female voice purred into his ear.

“Dana.” He tried not to wince. Even his mother hadn’t called him “Bri” since he was eight years old. But, he reminded himself firmly, he hadn’t objected to the nickname when he first started dating Dana Cavanaugh.

“I was wondering,” she went on, snapping Brian’s attention back where she wanted it, “if you’d like to come have dinner at my place tonight.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door that led to the hallway, and beyond that to Kathy’s apartment. “Dinner?” he asked in an obvious-to-anyone-but-Dana stall. Idly he drew his fingertips through the layer of dust covering the small tabletop. Man, if he couldn’t bring himself to clean, he ought to hire someone to do it.

“C’mon Bri,” Dana implored and his eyelid twitched in response to the whine in her voice. “It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah, well.” A splinter of guilt poked at him. “I’ve been busy. Work’s piling up on base…” That sounded lame even to him. But what should he do? Admit to her that ever since meeting his new neighbor, he’d lost interest in the other women he knew? Hardly. The fact was almost too humiliating to admit to himself.

“Are you too busy to eat dinner now?” she asked.

He shifted slightly to take a look at his kitchen—a small, dark room where no pot bubbled on the stove. Across the hall, Kathy Tate was busy ignoring him, and soon he’d be contemplating which frozen entrée to zap in the microwave. So why was he even hesitating? A dinner invitation should sound to him like a gift from the gods.

After all, it wasn’t as if he was making any headway with Kathy. And why shouldn’t he have a nice dinner with a gorgeous woman rather than sit here alone regretting the fact that his legendary charm hadn’t succeeded in breaching Kathy’s defenses? Besides, he hadn’t gone anywhere but to the base in the past four weeks.

“Bri,” Dana asked, “are you still there?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m here.” Then before he could change his mind, he added, “And soon to be there.”

“Really?”

“Why not?” He forced a smile. “What are we having?”

She laughed, and the throaty sound that used to kick his hormones into high gear now seemed forced and just a bit theatrical.

“Let me surprise you,” she said.

All kinds of invitations were included in that one sentence, and it really irritated the hell out of him that he wasn’t filled with expectation. Was this some sort of weird cosmic justice? Was the perpetual ladies’ man destined to lose his heart to the one female who didn’t want it?

But even as he entertained that notion, he discarded it. Hearts were not involved here. And if, a few weeks later, he would look back on this moment and wonder how he could have been so stupid…well, he was blissfully in the dark now.

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he said, and hung up. A quick shower and he’d be on his way. And hopefully an evening with the delectable Dana would push Kathy Tate out of his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, Kathy heard his door slam and braced herself for the sound of a brisk knock at her own door. Brian Haley apparently didn’t want to take “No, thanks” for an answer.

But his footsteps went off down the hall.

“Well,” she said aloud, and was glad there was no one to hear her, “that should teach you a little humility.” Without even thinking about it, Kathy walked across her apartment to look out the front windows.

Turning back the edge of the curtains with her fingertips, she looked down onto the residential street below. A group of kids riding their bikes in the late summer sun raced along the quiet street and disappeared, leaving echoed hoots of laughter in their wake. An ocean breeze rattled the leaves of the old poplar trees lining the sidewalks, and somewhere in the distance a lawn mower growled and dogs barked.

She stiffened when Brian hurried down the front steps and along the curving walkway. Following him with her gaze, Kathy didn’t miss his crisply ironed blue sport shirt and the tan khaki slacks. Looked like date clothes to her. “I’m glad to see rejection doesn’t keep him down for long.” She shook her head and went up on her toes to see him better. He moved quickly, like a man on a mission. “Anxious, isn’t he?” she muttered through gritted teeth.

So much for her theories about her own irresistibility. Not only wasn’t he pining from her lack of interest, he’d gone directly from flirting shamelessly with her to a date with someone else.

Unlocking the door of his black Jeep, he slid inside, fired the engine and was gone a moment or two later.

Only then did Kathy notice her grip tightened on the curtains, pressing dozens of wrinkles into the sheer fabric. She smoothed them out as best she could, then turned around to face her empty apartment.

This was a vindication, of sorts. She’d known all along that Brian Haley was what her mother would have called a womanizer. So she’d done the right thing in standing firm against his flirting and turning down his less-than-subtle invitations to get to know him better.

“I win,” she mumbled, and tried not to wonder why victory tasted so much like defeat.

Three days later Brian looked up from his computer screen as First Sergeant Jack Harris walked into the office. “You’re late,” he said.

“Shoot me,” Jack told him, and crossed the room to his own desk.

“Trust me. Today, you shouldn’t tempt me.”

“Oh, aye, aye, Gunnery Sergeant Haley, sir.”

Brian shook his head. “Shut up.”

Jack laughed shortly, flipped on his computer and glanced at his friend. “What’s the matter with you?”

Brian scrubbed his hands over his face and mumbled. “Nothing.”

“Good,” Jack said. “I need to see those finished fitness reports today.”

“Thanks for the concern,” Brian said, “but I’ll be fine.”

Jack laughed shortly, leaned back in his chair and said, “All right, let’s have it.”

“Have what?” He bit the words off.

“Could this be…” Jack said, his expression mirroring his amusement, “dare I think it…lady troubles?”

“Who said anything about a woman?” he grumbled from behind his hands.

“You didn’t have to,” Jack told him. “I recognize the signs.”

“What signs?” He dropped his hands to his desk and glared at the other man.

“Signs that a man’s been lying awake at night thinking about a woman he can’t have.”

Brian had been around in the early days of Jack’s marriage to Colonel Candello’s daughter, Donna. And he remembered vividly how on edge Jack had been then. He also recalled not having had a lot of sympathy for the man. Ironic.

Still, this situation was entirely different. Brian wasn’t married. Hell, he hadn’t even had a date with the woman slowly driving him nuts. Irritation swelled inside him, and he shot his old friend a dirty look. Pushing away from the desk, he folded his arms across his chest, glared at Jack and demanded, “Why do you automatically assume that I’m having a problem with a woman?”

Jack turned away from his work and grinned. “Maybe because I saw the way you looked at Kathy Tate…and the way she avoided looking at you.”

“Thanks for nothing.”

“No problem.” Jack was enjoying this, and it showed. “So tell me. I saw strike one for myself. Was there a strike two in the past few days?”

“Why in hell did a nice woman like Donna marry you?”

“She refused to settle for less than the best.”

“And yet she picked you.”

“You’re stalling,” Jack said, pointing a finger at him. “Afraid to admit you’ve finally found a woman you can’t charm?”

“You’re a laugh riot, Jack.” Disgusted, Brian snatched up the first of the fitness reports and made a great show of reading it over.

“This is no laughing matter,” Jack said soberly and Brian shot him a look in time to see the smile on the man’s face. “There’s a pool, you know.”

“A pool?”

“Yep.” Jack rocked easily in his chair, folded his hands atop his chest and studied the water-marked ceiling. “And the pot’s getting bigger every day.”

“You guys are betting on me striking out with Kathy?” Brian threw a glance at the open doorway and the hall beyond. How many of his “friends” were in on this, anyway? And how, he wondered, sliding a suspicious look at Jack, had they found out about Kathy?

Jack chuckled gleefully. “There’s not a marine on base who wouldn’t like to see you strike out completely for once.”

“Surrounded by friends and supporters.”

“Hey, anybody with the kind of luck you have with females is bound to inspire a little…”

“Envy?” Brian provided, one eyebrow arching high on his forehead.

“I was thinking more along the lines of enmity.”

“And you felt it was your responsibility to tell everybody about my next-door neighbor.”

“After what I saw the other day,” Jack said on a laugh, “you bet.”

“What happened to semper fi?” Brian asked, throwing his hands up in the air. “Marines sticking together? Always faithful?”

“In battle, sure. In this kind of situation, it’s every man for himself.”

Brian laughed and shook his head. Typical.

“So, what’s happening anyway?”

“Nothing,” he said on a snort of derision. “That’s the problem.” Dinner with Dana had been a disaster. As soon as he’d arrived, she’d poured him a drink, told him dinner wouldn’t be ready for another hour and suggested several ways to pass the time until then.

Bound and determined to prove to himself—if no one else—that nothing in his life had changed, Brian had given her suggestions his best shot. But in the middle of what should have been a delicious kiss, he found himself imagining that the woman in his arms was shorter, a little plumper, with softly waving brown hair and eyes wide and deep enough to lose himself in.

In short, even Dana’s charms couldn’t keep his mind from straying to Kathy. Which irritated the hell out of him…and Dana, when he suddenly announced that he’d made a mistake and couldn’t stay. With the slam of her door still ringing in his ears, Brian had driven straight back to the base. It was a sad thing indeed to have to admit that work sounded like a better idea than dinner with Dana.

Jack laughed and Brian realized he’d never noticed what an evil chuckle his friend had.

“What’s so damn funny?” he demanded.

“It’s always entertaining to watch the mighty take a fall.”

“A fall?”

“This could be better than I’d hoped,” Jack said, amazement in his eyes. “This could work into love, Gunnery Sergeant. You may have finally met your match.”

Love?

“I think marriage has warped what was left of your mind, Jack. I hardly know this woman…” Then, to make his point, he admitted the most humiliating fact of all. “She won’t even go out with me.”

“This just gets better and better,” Jack chortled.

“Thanks for your support,” Brian snapped and jumped to his feet. His uniform boots beat a heavy tattoo against the linoleum floor as he paced back and forth. Then he stopped in front of Jack’s desk, shoved his hands into his pockets and said, “I’m not in love, and I sure as hell don’t plan to be.”

“None of us do,” Jack pointed out.

“Yeah? Well, some of us,” Brian told him, slapping himself on the chest, “have a little more self-control than others.”

“Oh, yeah. I can see that.”

Brian scowled at him. “Is there a reason why we have to share an office?”

“Probably.”

“It’s not good enough, whatever it is.”

“Hell, Brian,” Jack said on another suspiciously evil laugh, “you’ll live through this. We all do.”

“Quit lumping me in with you and your kind.”

“My kind?”

“You know, married marines. Formerly happy men, now dragging wife and family from base to base…packing dishes and furniture and worrying about schools and doctors and God knows what else.”

Jack shifted uneasily in his chair and deliberately looked away from the picture of Donna and their daughter, Angela, that had a prominent spot on his desk. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure I do,” Brian snapped. “Heck, there’s some kind of marriage epidemic sweeping the base. More marines have been picked off here lately than at Iwo Jima!”

Jack stood up slowly, planted both hands on his desk and leaned in. “I wasn’t ‘picked off,’ Brian.”

“Sure you were…hell, Donna’s a sharpshooter! You never even saw it coming.” He lifted one hand to stop Jack from interrupting. “I like Donna, and Angela’s the prettiest baby I ever saw, but, man…you were taken out by a sniper and didn’t even know it until after the vows were read.”

“Back off, Brian.”

“No, you back off.” Nose to nose now, the two men squared off. “You’re not sucking me down into the hole you jumped into. I like my life,” Brian went on, his voice getting louder with every word. “I like packing a duffel and taking off. I like being deployed all over the world. I like living in furnished apartments. I like answering to no one but me.”

When Brian finished, he took a deep breath and listened to the sudden silence in the small room. Jack’s features were stiff, but after a few seconds ticked away, he seemed to relax a bit. Finally he spoke up. “Who’re you trying to convince here? Me? Or you?”

“I don’t need convincing,” Brian muttered, turning for his desk and the pile of weapons reports that awaited him. “I just needed reminding. So thanks.”

“Anytime, gunny,” Jack muttered, sitting down and getting back to work. “Anytime at all.”

Case closed, Brian thought and felt sanity pour back into his soul. No more moaning around like some lovesick kid. He was a marine, for pity’s sake. In charge of enough weapons to start World War III. And damn it, it was time he started acting like it again.

He had more names and numbers in his address book than any man he’d ever known. He’d just call a few and get back into the game. He must have been nuts spending the past four weeks daydreaming about a woman who couldn’t see him for dust.

Kathy Tate wasn’t interested. So what? There were plenty of other women in this city. Mind racing, resolutions forming and solidifying in his brain, he snatched at the phone on his desk when it rang and answered impatiently, “Gunnery Sergeant Haley.”

The voice on the other end of the line started talking. With every word spoken, Brian’s newly reinforced world started shaking. He couldn’t seem to draw air into his straining lungs. His thoughts spun, and his stomach lurched. The familiar sights and sounds around him seemed to evaporate, and all he could hear was the stranger on the phone shattering what was left of his once-so-comfortable life.

Three

“She’s getting married again.” She cringed inwardly as she said those words aloud.

“Who?” Tina Baker asked.

Kathy shot a long look at her friend, swallowed down the embarrassment choking her and said, “Three guesses.”

Tina wiped oatmeal off her infant son’s cheeks and frowned thoughtfully. A moment later comprehension dawned on her features. “Your mom?”

Sitting back in her chair, Kathy turned her coffee cup between her hands and glanced at her friend. “Yep. The queen of matrimonial nightmares is at it again.”

“Wow.” Tina handed the baby a teething ring to slam against the tray of the high chair, then sat down opposite Kathy. “So this will make husband number five? Or six?”

She made it sound like such a reasonable question. Thank heaven for Tina. Friends since high school, they’d always kept in touch. And no matter how humiliating Kathy found her mother’s behavior, Tina had never made a big deal out of it.

Moving to Bayside two years ago was the best thing Kathy had ever done. At least she had one stable person in her life. Tina was madly in love with her husband and constantly trying to convince Kathy that marriage was a good thing.

But Kathy had made up her mind years ago. With her mother, Spring, as a shining example of how not to live your life, Kathy had decided to stay single. Better to live alone than to go from one broken marriage to another.

Not that that had ever bothered her mother.

Oh, boy. Wasn’t the rule of families that children were supposed to embarrass parents? No doubt, across the country, middle-aged parents were going about their perfectly normal, rut-filled lives, lamenting their offspring’s loony life-styles. But not in the Tate family. No sirree.

Nope. Here in never-never land, Kathy was the adult, and her mother was the forty-eight-year-old teenager. Not that she didn’t love her mom, but honestly, was it too much to hope for that Spring Hastings-Watts-Tate-Grimaldi-Grimaldi-Hennesey-Butler-soon-to-be would grow up? That she would settle down into the kind of everyday, ordinary mom Kathy had always wanted?

A voice inside whispered, Yes. She’s never going to change, so just learn how to deal with it.

“Kathy?” Tina spoke up, and Kathy shook her head to clear it.

After taking a quick gulp of coffee, she answered, “Technically, this is marriage number six. But Mom says five. Because she married number three twice, she only counts him as one husband.”

Tina smiled, noticed Kathy’s disgusted expression and said, “I’m sorry, hon. I know it’s not funny, but you’ve got to admit, your mom is really something.”

“Oh, she’s something, all right.” Kathy shook her head and stood up.

“I swear, her life is like a soap opera.”

“Well, I wish she’d hire some new writers.”

No matter how kind or understanding Tina was, she’d never really be able to know what it was like growing up with a mother like Spring. Kathy had had to learn early on that she was the responsible one in the household. She’d grown up fast in order to make up for her mom’s not growing up at all.

But even as those thoughts rattled around inside her mind, Kathy felt disloyal. After all, her mom had done the best she could. At least she had stuck around, which was more than Kathy’s father had ever done.

“So when’s the wedding?”

Kathy started wandering around the cozy, cluttered kitchen. Her gaze drifted from the crayon artwork proudly displayed on the refrigerator to the dog bowl on the floor to the child-size fingerprints on the windows. This is what a kid’s world should be like, she told herself. And that’s why she’d never have children of her own. A bubble of emptiness rose up inside her, then settled down into the pit she usually kept it in. As much as she would love to have the kind of family Tina had, she knew it wasn’t in her cards. She refused to be a single mother. She’d seen firsthand just how difficult that was. And she would never get married, so that left kids out entirely.

Thank heaven she at least had Tina’s kids to pour all of her maternal feelings into.

“Kath?” Tina’s voice prompted her. “The wedding? When is it?”

The wedding. “Three weeks,” she said, and leaned against the counter.

“She’s been single so long,” Tina mused, “I wonder what made her decide to get married again.”

“Who knows?” Kathy said, throwing her hands high. It had been six years since her mom’s last divorce. Kathy had actually begun to hope that Spring was slowing down. Oh, well.

“Where is it?”

This time Kathy had to chuckle. Really, what else could she do with a mom like Spring. “Where else? Vegas.”

“Well,” Tina said, and reached over to lift Michael out of his high chair, “maybe this time it will work out. Maybe this time she’s really in love.”

Spring had sounded different when she’d called to give Kathy the news about the impending wedding. There’d actually been a little tremor in her voice. As if she was nervous. Though any woman who’d recited the wedding vows as often as Spring had surely shouldn’t have anything to be nervous about. No, it was probably just her imagination working overtime. This was simply another wedding for Spring.

“And maybe our little résumé service will put us both on the Fortune Five Hundred list,” she said, and winced slightly. She didn’t mean to sound bitter, for heaven’s sake.

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Anything you say, partner,” Kathy said, then changed the subject by asking, “Have you got the new ad ready for the newspaper?”

“Yeah, it’s in the other room. Hold the baby for a minute?”

“Sure,” Kathy said, always eager to get a little baby hugging in. She stepped forward to pluck little Michael out of his mother’s arms. Fifteen pounds of warm, cuddly love squirmed against her, and Kathy’s heart melted. She ran her palm gently over the top of his head, smoothing down the wispy, fine, blond hair.

Regret roared through her with a vengeance as she realized again that by denying herself marriage, she was denying herself this. A child of her own to love. And the closer she came to thirty, the harder that truth hit her. The phrase biological clock had become pretty much a cliché these days, and darned if she couldn’t hear hers ticking.

Michael cooed and batted at her shoulders with two small-fisted hands. She caught one of them and rubbed his little fingers with her thumb. “You’re a sweetheart, you know it?” she asked, and grinned when he giggled from deep in his throat.

Tina stepped into the kitchen and paused, watching them. “You’re good at that, Kath.”

Kathy glanced at her. “It’s not hard to love a baby.”

“Or a man,” Tina said.

“Don’t start,” Kathy told her, shaking her head. Tina’s one major flaw was that she insisted on playing matchmaker.

“There’s a guy in Ted’s office who—”

“Stop right there,” Kathy warned her.

“Come on, Kath. There’s no reason for you to live like a nun.”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Tina laid the manila envelope she was carrying down on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “And when was the last time you actually spoke to a real, live man?”

Think fast. “Three days ago,” she blurted.

“Who?” Tina asked.

“My neighbor.”

“The marine?” Tina’s blue eyes widened in anticipation.

Oh, man, she shouldn’t have started this. Perching Michael on her hip, she bounced him up and down.

“Details, Kath. Details.”

“He fixed my car for me,” she said with a shrug. “Then he helped me with my groceries.” And she’d managed to avoid him ever since.

“And…”

“There is no and,” Kathy told her, and walked across the room to hand over the baby. Then she snatched up the ad copy and tried to make her escape.

“There could be an and,” Tina said hurriedly.

“I don’t want any and.” She picked up her purse from the table and headed for the back door. Tina’s voice stopped her cold in the doorway.

“You’re not your mother, Kathy.”

She meant well, but that didn’t change the facts. “No, but I am her daughter.” Glancing over her shoulder at her friend, Kathy added, “We live what we learn, Tina. And I’d be just as bad at marriage as my mother is. I won’t do that. Not to me and certainly not to some poor, unsuspecting baby.”

Then she slipped out the door before Tina could continue the old argument.

Brian listened to the dial tone for a few long seconds, then held the receiver away from his ear and stared at it as though he half expected it to blow up in his hand.

“Brian?”

He blinked and shot a quick glance at Jack.

“Bad news?” the man asked.

“Bad?” He didn’t know if he’d say bad. Maybe catastrophic. Horrifying. But bad? He checked his wrist watch. He only had two hours. Nice of them to wait until the last minute to call.

“Hey, man,” Jack said, watching him. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I, uh…” Carefully, gently, Brian set the receiver down in its cradle. “I have to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“The airport.”

“Airport?” Jack sounded as confused as Brian felt. But that couldn’t be. No one on earth could possibly be as confused as Brian Haley was at that particular moment.

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he said. Later. As in, when he was actually able to repeat the words he’d just heard over the phone. Right now he could hardly force himself to think them, let alone say them out loud.

“Jack, I gotta go.” He looked at his watch again. Another minute gone. He felt his life ticking away. The world as he’d known it was about to come to an abrupt end, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Damn it, Brian…”

He shook his head and spared his friend a quick glance. “Trust me on this. I have to go.” He pushed away from his desk, glanced at the unfinished reports and said, “I’ll take care of those tomorrow.”

“They’re due today,” Jack told him. Brian looked at him, and some of his desperation must have shown on his face because his friend took one look at him and offered, “Leave ’em. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, and started for the door. He snatched his hat off the coatrack, then settled it firmly on his head.

“Hey!” Jack called out, and Brian stopped. “Is everything all right?”

Rubbing one hand across his face, Brian swallowed heavily and muttered, “Hell, no.”

“Call if you need help.”

Help? Hell, he was going to need all the help he could get. But it went against the grain to ask for it. He was a marine, for pity’s sake. Tough, strong, dependable. He’d stood fast in battle and lived all over the world. It was his job to protect and defend the United States of America against all of her enemies.

How in the hell could he yell help?

He nodded at Jack, muttered, “Thanks,” and left. He ran down the hall, stopping only long enough to help a corporal pick up the files Brian had knocked out of his arms. Then he was out the main door into the California sunshine.

Mentally he heard a clock ticking. Softly at first, then louder as the seconds passed. Time was running out. He had just enough time to get home, change his uniform and make it to the airport.

Then all he had to do was wait. Wait for the stranger from Child Services in South Carolina, who would soon be flying in to deliver into Brian’s care the thirteen-month-old daughter he hadn’t even known existed.

Ooh-rah.

Four

At the airport Brian stalked through the sliding glass doors and spared a quick glance at the life-size, bronze statue of John Wayne as he passed it. It had to be his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard the big man laugh at him.

But then, hell, who wouldn’t?

Hunching his shoulders, Brian hurried past The Duke, cast a quick look at the arrivals screen, then made for gate 36. His footsteps echoed hollowly against the tile, and as fast as that tapping sounded, it wasn’t as fast as the pounding of his heart.

Good God. A baby? Him?

He ran one hand across his face and tried to gather the thoughts that had been scattered since receiving that brief phone call.

He could still hear the social worker’s voice ringing in his ear. You recall having a relationship with Mariah Sutton?

Mariah Sutton. Sure, he remembered her. A couple of years ago. In South Carolina. Pretty, warm, fun. Mariah and he had had a mutually satisfying relationship that had lasted a total of six weeks.

But according to the social worker he’d spoken to nearly two hours ago, the memory of their affair was still alive and well and living in the person of one Maegan Sutton-Haley, thirteen months old.

Brian shook his head as his back teeth ground together. He dodged an elderly woman pushing a black suitcase in front of her like a battering ram, then joined the line of people waiting to pass through the security gate.

Mariah’d given the lady his name, but hadn’t bothered to tell him about his daughter. What the hell was that about? Why hadn’t she told him? He rubbed one hand along the back of his neck and moved forward another inch or two. What would he have done if she had told him? he wondered. Honestly, he didn’t know. He’d like to think he’d have done the right thing, whatever that was these days. But how could he be sure? He couldn’t. Now he’d never know what might have been.

But was that really important at the moment? No. What mattered now was the simple fact that Mariah Sutton had died in a car accident, naming him father and guardian of their little girl.

Damn it, he’d never wanted kids.

Even as that thought entered his mind, another chased right behind it. If you didn’t want kids, you shouldn’t have been so careless, huh?

“Afternoon, Sergeant,” the man at the security portal said as Brian moved up to take his turn.

He nodded and stepped through.

Naturally the damn thing beeped.

Brian glanced down at his uniform, guessing rightly that the medals on his left shirtfront pocket had set off the alarms. He looked at the security officer. “Want me to take them off?”

The old man smiled and shook his head. “Just step over here a moment.”

Brian left the line and held still while the officer ran a hand-held security wand up and down his body. When it came across the medals, it beeped just like its mother ship had. He shrugged apologetically. “Sorry.”

“No problem, marine,” the man said, then waved him on. “We’re used to dealing with the military. You have a good day.”

Not much chance of that, Brian thought. “Thanks,” he muttered, and hurried on to meet his fate.

Milling around at the back of the crowd, waiting for the plane to unload, Brian studied the happy, excited faces surrounding him. Apparently he was the only person there who wished he was anywhere else. His heart pounded frantically. Stomach churning, he tried reminding himself that he was a marine for Pete’s sake, but it wasn’t helping.

Good Lord. A daughter.

What was he supposed to do with a little girl? A baby?

Briefly he told himself he should have paid closer attention when his older sisters had started producing grandchildren for his doting mother. But anytime one of those kids had shown up, Brian had beaten a hasty retreat.

This must be some kind of karmic joke.

One of the airline personnel opened the door for the soon-to-be-appearing passengers, and Brian felt his throat close up. Impossible to be covered in a cold sweat and feel completely dried out, but there you go. Actually, he thought, trying to be objective about this, he felt just the way he had the first time someone had shot at him.

The first few people straggled up the gangway, juggling bags way too big to be considered carry-ons by anyone. A few happy squeals sounded from the crowd, and as people slowly met their friends and families and drifted off, Brian stood alone. Waiting.

Then she was there.

A woman came toward him, older, a bit gray, with kind eyes and a tired droop to her posture. Over one shoulder she carried a Winnie the Pooh bag and on her right hip was perched a baby girl.

His baby girl.

Maegan Haley.

God help them both.

“Gunnery Sergeant Haley?” the woman asked as she stopped in front of him and swung the bag to the floor.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, unconsciously shifting stance to attention. His gaze flickered to the baby, who stared at him through eyes so much like his own he felt an invisible fist crash into his belly. Well, whatever else had happened, Mariah hadn’t lied.

His daughter.

The woman saw his reaction and gave him a soft smile. “I’m Mrs. Norbert, and this…is Maegan.”

“Uh, huh.”

“If you wouldn’t mind showing me some identification?”

She looked as though she was having second thoughts about handing over the baby. He didn’t blame her. Still he showed her all the ID he had and she appeared to be satisfied.

“So,” she said, “everything seems to be in order.”

Real good, Haley, he told himself. Impress the woman with your articulate style.

But she didn’t seem to mind that he’d been struck dumb.

“In the bag there are a few diapers, a bottle of apple juice and some teething biscuits.”

“Teething biscuits?” Oh, man, he was in deep trouble here.

“Something like a hard cookie.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded, and in an effort to sound at least halfway knowledgeable said, “It looks like she’s got all her teeth.” He knew this because the baby was baring said teeth at him.

“Oh, most of them, yes,” the woman said. “but those back teeth are tough little beggars.”

Swell.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Norbert went on, “you’ll have to do some shopping right away, but at least you don’t have to worry about formula.”

“Formula?”

“Yes.” She looked up at him and shook her head slightly. “Maegan drinks regular milk now, and she can eat people food.”

Well that worked out well, but then he hadn’t planned on feeding her cat chow.

“Although, you might want to go easy on regular food and stockpile some jarred toddler foods.”

“Uh-huh.” Numb. Completely numb. And the baby didn’t look too happy about the situation, either.

“So! If you’ll just sign these…” The woman dipped a hand into her large black purse and pulled out a sheaf of legal papers.

Brian took them and stared down at the words, watching as they blurred and fuzzed. He was about to sign his life away, and for some reason his eyes were refusing to focus.

“A pen. Do you have a pen?” she asked.

“No.” A bayonet maybe. A gun. But no pen. “No, I don’t.”

“Never mind, I do,” Mrs. Norbert told him, digging into the bowels of that purse again. “Here, you just take the baby and I’ll find it.”

With that, she plopped Maegan into her daddy’s arms, and man and child stared at each other warily. Brian studied her, noting the heart-shaped face, the string of drool hanging from her pouting mouth and the butterfly hair clip attached to impossibly fine, light-brown hair. She wore a frilly blue dress, shiny black shoes and white tights straining over a well-padded behind.

Brian held her exactly as he would a live grenade—with extreme caution, at arm’s length.

Maegan looked him over, and he was pretty sure she didn’t approve of him. Of course, how could he blame her? Some strange woman had just loaded her onto a plane, flown across the country and dropped her into the arms of another stranger. What did she have to be happy about?

As if to prove him right, Maegan started kicking her little feet wildly, then screwed her face up into a mask of displeasure just before howling like some crazed hound on the scent of fresh meat.

“Geez!” he choked out. “Hey, hey stop that,” he told her, and jiggled her slightly.

The only effect that move had was to make the sound of her cries go up and down like a talentless kid playing scales on the piano.

“Oh, pay no attention,” Mrs. Norbert said as she came up with the long-sought-for pen. “She’s just tired and cranky.”

“I know how she feels,” he muttered. In fact, he was getting crankier by the minute.

“Excellent,” she said, taking the baby from him so he could sign the papers that would make him solely responsible for one tiny, loud scrap of humanity. “I’m sure you’ll get along wonderfully well. It will just take some time.”

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