She nodded stiffly, but he could see she wasn’t convinced.
“Kate, this can work,” he said, walking across the room to her side. Hands on her shoulders, he held her gently but firmly, ignoring the sudden, white-hot jolt of desire that shot through him like a mortar blast. If she accepted his proposal, there would be plenty of time to indulge in the passion they shared. “We like each other. We get along well.”
“Like,” she repeated numbly and crossed her arms in front of her before letting her gaze slide from his.
He cupped her face in his palm and turned her back to look at him. “This will work,” he repeated, warming to his theme. Sure, he’d never intended to get married again. One failure in that department had been more than enough for Tom Candello. And here was another chance to show the world what lousy fathers the Candello men made. Like his own dad before him, Tom had failed at fatherhood. And the thought of another failure wasn’t a pretty one. But this was a special circumstance. Kate was pregnant. With his baby. Their child. He couldn’t let her down.
She needed him.
And for now, that was enough.
On that thought, he suggested, “Think about this as if it’s a Corps assignment, Kate.”
“What?”
“We’re fellow officers. We like each other. We understand each other’s work.”
She smiled sadly. “Not much to base a marriage on, Thomas.”
“More than some people have,” he said, and smoothed her hair back behind her ear.
“And less than others.”
He knew what she was talking about. Love. Well, love wasn’t something he was interested in. Desire at least was honest. And he did desire her. Plus he genuinely liked her. Wasn’t that better than some indefinable emotion that broke as many hearts as it healed?
Stroking her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, he said quietly, “Love’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Kate. I believe we can have a better-than-average marriage just by keeping love out of it. We’ll still manage to raise our child in a happy enough environment.”
Kate stared up at him for a long, thoughtful moment. The knot in her throat seemed to grow to colossal proportions, threatening to choke off her air entirely. His words keep repeating themselves over and over in her mind, like a tape stuck on Playback. “Keep love out of it. Happy enough environment. Better than average marriage.”
Not at all what she’d secretly yearned for the moment she’d first laid eyes on Colonel Thomas Candello. But fantasies and dreams had to give way to the realities of life...didn’t they?
And the cold, harsh reality was...she was pregnant. She was a Marine. And without the Corps she would have nothing to offer either herself or her child.
Because she really did have no choice at all here, she finally said, “All right, Thomas. I will marry you.”
He let out a pent-up breath and pulled her to him. As he wrapped his arms around her, Kate let herself lean against him, drawing on the strength he was offering her. Hoping they were doing the right thing.
For the baby and for them.
All she knew for sure was that the man she loved was marrying her—not because he couldn’t live without her—but because of a baby neither of them had counted on.
Two
“Now that that’s settled,” he whispered against the top of her head, “how about dinner tonight? We can talk about the specifics.”
Kate pulled back from him, despite the reluctance to leave the circle of his arms. Staring up into those dark brown eyes, she repeated, “Specifics.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Wedding date. Place. Time. Guests.”
“Oh, my,” she muttered, and shook her head. “Suddenly this is getting so involved. So complicated.”
“Would you prefer a whirlwind trip to Vegas?”
“Do I detect a hint of surliness in your tone?” she countered.
He frowned, walked to his desk and leaned one hip against the edge. “Not surly. Confused.”
“Join the club,” she muttered. For pity’s sake, she’d hardly gotten used to the idea of being pregnant. Not to mention his spur-of-the-moment proposal. Now she was supposed to pull out a pad of paper and eagerly make out a guest list?
Come on. Even Wonder Woman would have needed a few days.
He folded his arms across his chest, cocked his head to one side and looked at her as though she was a particularly intriguing germ on a glass slide under a microscope. “I don’t get it.”
“What?” Stupid question.
“This about-face,” he said. “A minute ago, we agreed that a marriage was the only answer. You did say yes, didn’t you?”
She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Of course I said yes...”
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked.
“How much time do you have?”
He smiled, God help her, and that lone dimple in his right cheek made its first appearance. Damn it. Why was she such a sucker for that dimple?
“All the time you need, Kate. Talk.”
Talk. Easy enough for him to say. Hands locked tight behind her back, she paced again, feeling the need to burn off the excess energy that had her stomach roiling and her mind spinning. Back and forth, up and down, she looked at his office, the plain beige paint, the picture of the president, the dried-up splotches of the last rain on the windows and the halfdead ficus tree in the corner.
Talk. Where should she start? With ridiculous dreams or the painful reality?
She’d been hoping for so much more when she had put in a request for a transfer to Camp Pendleton.
For three years, Kate had loved Thomas Candello. And for those same three years, she’d kept quiet about it. She knew all too well his thoughts on marriage and love and happily-ever-after. He’d made no secret of the fact that his first marriage had been a disaster from the word go and that he had no intention of ever committing that particular mistake again.
So, wary of scaring him off, she’d patiently swallowed the three little words every time they threatened to roll off her tongue. She’d pretended to be as satisfied with their once-a-year tryst as he was. And she’d hoped that one day he would look into her eyes and see the love shining there and want to claim it.
So much for “hope springs eternal.”
“Kate?” he prompted from his place by the desk. “What’s going on?”
“Too much,” she said and came to a stop by his office door. Turning around, she braced her back against it and looked at him from across the room. Unfortunately, distance didn’t help. The liquid warmth in his eyes, that blasted dimple, his mouth, even several feet of empty space couldn’t dilute their power. “Thomas,” she said at last, “we can’t just up and get married.”
“Why not?” He pushed off the desk and started for her.
She held up one hand, stopping him in his tracks. If he expected her to think, then he needed to give her some breathing room.
“We’re both single adults. Unattached.”
“Exactly.”
He laughed shortly and shook his head. “Sorry, you lost me.”
She sighed heavily. “In the month I’ve been here, we’ve hardly spoken more than once or twice.”
“So?”
“So, don’t you think people will be just a little bit curious if we announce our imminent wedding?”
“And if we don’t get married, in a couple of months,” he snapped a look at her still flat abdomen, “they’ll be curious about a whole lot more than that.”
“I know.” She buried the flash of nerves that leaped into life in the pit of her stomach. “But still, we can’t go from supposed strangers to newlyweds overnight.”
He thought about it for a minute or two, then shrugged again. “Does it really matter? Is it anyone’s business?”
“Yes,” she said. “And no.”
“Huh?”
“Yes, it does matter and no, it’s not their business. But that won’t stop the gossip and you know it.”
“Maybe not, but we could slow it down a little.”
He smiled. “What have you got in mind?”
“Dating?” she suggested.
This time he laughed. “Kate, we’re a little beyond the dating stage, don’t you think?”
“Okay, sure.” She nodded and started pacing again, the sound of her heels against the linoleum tapping out a rhythm for her thoughts. “I suppose we could tell people that we’ve been seeing each other for three years.”
“A lot of each other,” he added.
“Yes, well, they don’t need to know that, now do they?”
“Kate,” Tom said, and crossed the room to her before she could stop him. “You’re making this more difficult—more complicated than it has to be.”
“I don’t see how.”
“We’ll date,” he said, and smiled down at her when she winced. “And after a whirlwind courtship, we’ll have a nice, quiet wedding a few weeks from now.”
“People will still talk.”
“It won’t matter. We’ll be married. The talk will die down.”
“Until I start showing.”
“You can’t prevent people from counting.”
“I suppose,” she said, and wished he would hold her again.
Tom reached for her, holding her tightly to him. He’d never seen Kate like this. Distracted. Worried—no, scared.
He pulled in a deep breath, enjoying the familiar, floral scent of her shampoo even as his mind told him she had a right to be scared, and if he had half a brain, he would be, too.
He’d done this before. He’d been married and made a damn mess of it. He’d had a child, too, and blown that, as well.
Oh, yeah, he was just the guy Kate needed—an already-proven failure as a husband and father.
His stomach turned over, and a fist tightened inside it.
There were two ways this could go, he told himself. One, it could all blow up in his face, hurting him, Kate and the poor unsuspecting baby stuck with him as a father—or, it could be his chance to make up for doing everything so badly the first time around.
Heaven or hell.
The lady or the tiger.
Tom closed his eyes and held her more tightly.
A pounding headache throbbing behind her eyes, Kate sat at her desk, taking deep breaths and telling herself the worst was over. She’d told him about the baby. Nobody had fainted. He hadn’t held up a rope of garlic to keep her at bay. And most important, she’d managed to keep her stomach from rebelling in the disgusting manner that was becoming all too familiar these days.
So why didn’t she feel better?
Because it wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
She was going to be a mother, God help the poor little thing nestled unknowingly inside her. And a wife. To a man who didn’t want a wife.
Kate groaned out loud, pushed both hands through her short hair and held on to her skull to keep it from exploding. Trying to distract herself, she glared at the mountain of paperwork awaiting her attention. Files and folders and stapled sheafs of papers lay across her desk in what to anyone else’s eye would look like a disorganized jumble. To Kate’s credit, she knew what every single piece of paper was, where it belonged and how to put her finger on whatever was needed at a moment’s notice.
That didn’t mean she liked it.
Thomas was wrong, she thought, stealing a quick glance at the In pile that had grown substantially in the fifteen minutes she’d been gone. The military didn’t run on gossip. It ran on paper. Piles and piles of paper.
A knock at the door delivered her and she looked up. “Yes?”
The door opened and her assistant, Staff Sergeant Eileen Dennis, poked her head in. “Excuse me, ma’am, but the other files have arrived.”
“Perfect,” Kate groaned and leaned back in her chair.
“Can I help, ma’am?” Eileen offered, stepping farther into the room and dropping at least ten more manilla folders onto an already precariously tilted stack.
Kate sighed. Tempting, but no. She might be pregnant and about to marry a reluctant groom, but she was still a Marine. And she could do her job—at least until her belly was so swollen she couldn’t pull her chair in close enough to reach the desk.
She managed to stifle the groan building inside her as she scooted her chair in extra tight, just because she could.
Looking up at the younger woman standing opposite her, Kate figured Eileen Dennis to be about twenty-eight Her bright blue eyes were sharp. Her smart cap of night black hair was regulation, yet somehow managed to look feminine. Spit and polish, the creases on the woman’s uniform had creases. The staff sergeant was young, eager, dedicated and ambitious.
Everything Kate had always been herself. So why then did she suddenly feel like Grandma Moses in comparison?
“Thanks, Eileen,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can manage.”
She actually looked disappointed. “If you’re sure...”
“I am,” Kate said. “But if you can find me a cup of coffee, I’ll put you up for promotion.”
Eileen grinned at the joke. “Black, one sugar?”
“Yeah.” Just as the door started to close, though, Kate said, “No. Wait.” Caffeine. Not a good thing for growing babies. She caught Eileen’s eye. “Make that tea.”
“Tea, ma’am?” Surprise etched itself onto her features.
“Herbal.” Lord, just saying it made her want to retch. How would she ever get through the next six months without a jolt of caffeine every day?
“Yes ma’am,” Eileen said, and slowly closed the door again.
When she was alone, Kate pushed away from the desk and crossed the room to the one tiny window her office provided. Staring out at the busy base, she absently watched her fellow Marines carrying out their everyday tasks. The world was rolling right along, she thought. It didn’t seem to matter that her own personal world lay in shambles at her feet.
Her phone rang and grudgingly Kate turned toward the desk again. She snatched it up on the third ring. “Yes?”
“Colonel Candello on line one, ma’am.”
Her stomach twisted. Had he changed his mind already? Had the idea of a baby and marriage made him want to resign and catch the first sailboat to Tahiti?
A click, a hum, then Thomas’s voice. “Kate?”
“I’m here.”
A long pause. “You never agreed to dinner tonight. Let’s get this courtship started.”
So much for Tahiti.
“Tonight?” Her fingers tightened around the receiver.
“Any reason not to?”
She stared down at her desk, told herself she should work late and clear up all the files. But they’d be right there in the morning, waiting for her. “No,” she said. “I guess not.”
“Good. Seven?” he asked, and even over the phone his voice raised goosebumps on her skin. “I’ll pick you up at your place?”
She rubbed one hand over her forearm, as if she could wipe away the effect he had on her.
“You don’t know where I live,” she said. Good heavens, she was marrying a man who didn’t even know where her apartment was. This couldn’t be right, could it? Right for any of them?
“I was hoping you’d tell me.”
Kate sat down in her chair, propped her elbows on her desk and didn’t even glance at the two manilla folders that slid off, spilling papers across her floor. “Thomas—” She rested her forehead in one palm. “This is all so weird. It feels... awkward.”
“I know, honey,” he said, his voice deepening into a low rumble of sound. “But we’ll figure it all out.”
She hoped so, because at the moment, her world felt about as steady as a ball twirling on the tip of a trained seal’s snout.
“You still like Italian?” he asked.
Kate smiled, ridiculously pleased that he’d repeated the stupid little joke they traditionally used to start o
ff their yearly week together. Even more ridiculous, his saying it now actually made her feel better. So she gave him the answer he was waiting for.
“I still like one Italian.”
“That’s a relief. You had me worried there for a minute, Kate.” His chuckle carried across the line before he said, “So, Major. Give me your address so I can start sweeping you off your feet.”
A moment later, Tom hung up. His hand still lying atop the cradled receiver, he stared blankly at the window opposite his desk. Weak winter sunshine fell through the spotty glass pane, painting a polka-dotted slash of gold across the linoleum.
All things considered, he told himself, that had gone pretty well. He flashed a look at the phone and frowned to himself. He’d managed to sound encouraging, uplifting and supportive without once letting his voice betray the sliver of panic that had torn his guts open at her news.
While he was on a roll, he snatched up the phone again and dialed his daughter’s number. After two rings, she answered.
“Hi, kiddo,” he said quickly.
“Hi, Dad, what’s up?”
Way too much to go into over the phone, he thought. His fingers toyed with the curly telephone cord. “A change in plans. I can’t make dinner tonight”
“Your loss,” his daughter informed him. “I’m making Grandma’s lasagna.”
He smiled at the receiver. “Rain check?”
“Naturally,” she said. “Anything wrong? You sound funny.”
Funny? No, he didn’t. He sounded exactly what he was. Terrified. But he wasn’t going to say anything to Donna and her husband, First Sergeant Jack Harris, until he and Kate had had time to talk this whole thing out
“No,” he assured her. “Nothing’s wrong.” Then, because his whirlwind courtship was about to start, and she might as well start getting used to the idea, he said as casually as possible. “Actually, I have a date.”
“Intriguing,” his too-sharp daughter said. “Bachelor Colonel with a date. I haven’t even seen you look at a woman since your barbecue a few months ago.”
Just before his last trip to Japan, Tom remembered. He’d actually toyed with the idea of dating a woman he saw more than once a year. But, after dinner and a movie, he’d discovered that as nice as the woman was, she wasn’t Kate.
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