The Seal’s Baby

by Rogenna Brewer

  “I miss you both,” he said.

  “We miss you, too.”

  “How do you feel about long-distance relationships?”

  He was a good boss. And a better friend. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for them to take each other for granted. But he was not without his faults. Sometimes she thought he mistook their friendship for something more. Poor Peter. He needed someone the exact opposite of her. Which was why she didn’t assign a deeper meaning to his words. But he deserved an answer.

  Saved by a knock on her office door.

  “Peter, I have to go.” She hung up on his goodbye.

  The Commander, Naval Special Warfare, poked his bald head around the open door. This was the first time she’d seen him uncovered. The look suited a man of his stature. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No!” She picked up Fallon and stood. “Admiral Bell, come in, please.” She gestured toward the couch where she’d just finished changing the baby. He remained standing, which was probably just as well considering he wore white from head to toe.

  “We didn’t get much time in the receiving line. I just wanted to find out how you were settling in.”

  “I’ve only been here a couple of days for orientation, but fine, so far.”

  “Good, good.” He moved farther into the office, picking up the picture of Fallon from Hannah’s desk. “Have you enrolled her in swimming lessons yet? They offer Mommy and Me classes on base. I regret not having that experience with Libby. Drown-proofing SEAL style was the extent of our lessons.”

  Hannah pushed the disturbing image aside. She doubted that meant he’d thrown his daughter into a pool with hands and feet bound like the BUD/S in training. Still… “You must have made up for it at some point. She obviously loves the water now.” Hannah wouldn’t be drown-proofing her own daughter anytime soon—if ever.

  “Almost drowned when she was six. Riptide out in the Bay. For years she wouldn’t go near water. But as you pointed out, she loves it now.”

  “Did you need to speak with me about Libby, Admiral?”

  “It’s nothing really.” He took her cue and set the picture aside. “Just that she doesn’t like being the admiral’s kid. So…no special treatment, you understand. She wants to find her own way in the world. Which is of course why she enlisted when her mother and I would have preferred she get a college education and a commission. Or steer clear of military service altogether.” He hesitated for a moment. “She transferred into your unit, Commander, because she sees you as a role model.”

  Hannah adjusted Fallon higher on her shoulder.

  His wise gaze settled on her and the baby in her arms. “I understand you’re a single mother?”

  Hannah stiffened. “Yes, sir.”

  “I imagine you feel a little like you’ve been thrown in the deep end.”

  “We’re keeping our heads above water.”

  “I’m assuming you have a parenting plan in place?”

  This wasn’t the civilian world. He had a right, a responsibility to pry. But men in general just didn’t get it. She needed a wife more than she needed a husband.

  “Just like every other working mother in America.”

  “Only the commute is to hell in a helicopter and the business trips last months, even years,” he pointed out.

  “My note to the nanny includes a power of attorney. And a will. I’ve filled out the Navy’s Dependent Care Certificate. I could fax a copy to your office—” She rummaged the Out box on her desk for proof. “My sister’s taken on the baby’s guardianship—”

  “That won’t be necessary, Commander. I’m just checking to see that everything’s a go for Monday.”

  “Yes, of course. Squadron Nine has coordinated efforts for the joint training op with SEAL Team One. We’ll be wheels up at 0700 sharp.”

  “Just the same, if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask…”

  “Thank you, Admiral. I’m indebted—”

  He shook his head. “Your father already paid that debt.”

  Hannah’s chest tightened.

  “Did you know him?” She failed to keep the wistfulness out of her voice.

  “We served together for a time in the brown water Navy of Vietnam. He hated those mud puddles…” The admiral broke off eye contact. “He spoke of you often.”

  True or not, it was the nicest possible thing he could have said to her. “And after the war?”

  The admiral shook his head. “He stayed with Team One. And I went on to form the counterterrorist group, Team Eleven.”

  “They told my mother he died in a training accident.”

  He wasn’t supposed to die. The war was over. He’d promised to return. He’d kissed her and her sister and her mother and he’d promised.

  “What can I bring you for your birthday, pumpkin?”

  “An Easy Bake oven.”

  He looked helplessly at her mother, standing in the doorway, holding the baby. “Are you sure you’re old enough? How old are you going to be anyway? Five? Six?” he teased.

  “Seven, Daddy. You know I’m going to be seven.”

  “Seven. You can’t be seven. You’re growing up too fast.” He lifted her in the air and spun her around. “I’m going to have to start beating those boys off with a baseball bat. Are you sure I can’t bring you a new ball and glove?”

  She giggled. “You can bring me whatever you want, Daddy, as long as you promise you’ll be home to help blow out the candles and cut the cake.”

  He didn’t promise in words, he never promised in words. But he hugged her so tight the promise didn’t have to be spoken, it was there in the way he loved her.

  The admiral didn’t comment further. He simply nodded and changed the subject. “If I’m not mistaken, last year around this time your squadron drilled with Team Eleven, McCaffrey and his boys?”

  What could she say except “Yes, sir.”

  Maybe the admiral didn’t think the change in subject was such a stretch. He followed his question with a lifted eyebrow, clearly expecting her to elaborate.

  She didn’t.

  He offered one last bit of advice. “Sometimes the only way to conquer a fear is to face the harsh reality of it.”

  When he left, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. She strapped Fallon back into her stroller, then quickly stripped out of her uniform jacket. She’d soaked through her nursing pads to her blouse.

  Luckily she kept spare uniforms at the office and still had a few of her dwindling supply of nursing pads in the diaper bag. Monday would be her first separation from her baby girl—two weeks of training exercises in the Nevada desert. Weaning Fallon earlier than she would have liked had been one of those not so small sacrifices required to do her job.

  Buttoning her jacket after changing blouses, she decided to bolster her confidence with an old flight-school trick. She picked up an orange, an apple and a stress ball from her desk. “Want to see what Mommy can do?” she asked, juggling the balls.

  Fallon followed with bright-eyed fascination.

  “The trick is running through calculations at the same time. If an HH-60H Seahawk leaves S.C.I. at 1000 hours, flying at a maximum air speed of one hundred and eighty knots, how long— Oops!” The orange bounced across the desk, rolling into the flower vase. Hannah averted disaster. Almost. She caught the vase, but she’d dropped several balls today. “The idea is to keep all the balls in the air. And the answer is he never should have made it.”

  Setting her juggling act aside, she plucked the card from the flowers. You’ve taken command of my heart. Love Peter.

  “Shoot!” It looked like she had a man caught in those crosshairs after all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  OFFICERS’ CLUB NORTH ISLAND

  Coronado, California

  “WAITING FOR Lieutenant Commander Stanton?” Mike strode up to the lieutenant, impatiently cooling his heels at the curb outside the Officers’ Club.

  “Sir. Yes, sir.” Spencer “Hollywood”
Holden acknowledged Mike with a sharp salute, but he was trying too hard in Mike’s opinion. He still had a hard time believing the former child-star hadn’t joined the Navy as some sort of publicity stunt.

  “Not anymore,” Mike said, returning the salute. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

  “Sir?”

  “Lend me the getup. Sword and gloves.”

  Holden complied without question. Good thing, because Mike wasn’t in the mood for insubordination.

  Stripped of his gear, Hannah’s co-pilot didn’t seem so Tom Cruise cocky. Which made up for Mike having to stretch the white gloves and let the belt out a notch. But both would do in a pinch.

  Even without the added flash of his Full Dress medals, anyone could see by his ribbon résumé he was a highly decorated officer. A highly decorated officer making an ass of himself over a woman. Hell, he was in good company. For centuries men had waged entire wars over women. And Mike was in the mood for a fight.

  Holden disappeared inside, and Mike took the lieutenant’s place curbside. Somewhere between Hannah’s abrupt departure and the drive over, he’d decided that if she had something to say to him, he wanted to hear it. Even if it was “Take your go-to-hell watch and shove it.”

  He owed her that much at least.

  Identifying the HCS-9 staff car by the Night Hawks flag as it pulled to the curb, he opened the door and offered his arm. “Spence—” she began, using him as leverage, only to be brought nose to shoulder board with his gold epaulet. She snatched her hand back as if from a snake. Once bitten, twice shy?

  He tried not to take it personally; SEALs were called snake eaters, but never cold-blooded reptiles. Besides just her touch was enough to warm his blood.

  “Sorry, not Holden,” he drawled. “Disappointed? And here I strapped on my sword just for you.” Or rather commandeered it.

  “If I’d known, I would have worn my strap on.”

  “Now that I’d like to see.”

  “Then it’s too bad a lady has no need for a tempered-steel phallic symbol.”

  That sounded more like the Hannah he knew and…missed. He let loose a hearty chuckle. How long had it been since he’d felt like laughing? How long had it been since they’d last exchanged banter? “From what I hear the lady created quite a stir arriving at the Change of Command Ceremony unescorted.”

  “So they drafted you to be my handler?”

  “This is an all-volunteer Navy.”

  She raised a perfect eyebrow. “Speaking of volunteers, what have you done with Spence?”

  “Ordered him to get lost.”

  “Rank has its privileges?”

  “Absolutely.”

  That, and the green-eyed monster had reared its ugly head. Holden had been her co-pilot for at least the four years Mike had known her. He wasn’t so cynical that he believed men and women couldn’t be friends, but in his experience sex always got in the way.

  More staff cars pulled up to the curb and he crooked his elbow. “Shall we?”

  RHIP. His rank left her little choice but to accept his offered arm. She acquiesced, latching on to his biceps, and he measured his stride to hers. Although her legs were long and lovely, they weren’t as long as his.

  The side boys opened the double doors.

  “Ladies first,” he insisted, pressing a hand to the small of her back to keep that contact as he guided her toward the cloakroom.

  Once inside, they removed their headgear and gloves, or in his case Holden’s, securing them inside their covers. Hannah handed them off to the hatcheck girl while Mike removed the scabbard and exchanged the ensemble for the ticket.

  “Separate tickets, please,” Hannah insisted, fluffing out her hair.

  “If you insist.”

  “I insist.”

  The hatcheck girl was riveted by their conversation. Mike took the second ticket but didn’t offer it to Hannah right away.

  “I have three hundred guests waiting,” she prompted.

  “Before your mother and sister came along, you were about to say something….”

  “Mike, not here.” She glanced at the girl behind him and cleared her throat. “Given the fact we’ll be working together, I think we should keep it strictly professional.”

  He didn’t care about the girl, but Hannah was lucky. The next wave of guests entered the building, leaving him little choice but to respect her wishes. “If that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  That’s not what her eyes were saying as they held his gaze and wouldn’t let go. Or maybe he was the one who couldn’t let go. “Why didn’t you tell me your father was a Navy SEAL?”

  “You’ve been talking to my mother. What’s there to tell? I barely remember him.”

  “I’m sorry, Han.” He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for—her father’s death, his own disappearing act, or both. How could he explain his fear of hurting her when that’s exactly what he’d done?

  “Are we through with apologies?”

  “I guess we are. And since we’re being so PC, Commander, I’ll expect a formal call at your earliest convenience.” He had no intention of letting this conversation go.

  “Fine. May I have the ticket, please? I’m a big girl and can make it to the party on my own. I’ll call you if I need an escort, Commander.”

  Ouch! He handed over the ticket, more than ready to abandon his duty. But he couldn’t let her go in there unarmed. “Han, word of advice for getting along with these guys. If you’re going to rock the boat, think gentle waves.”

  POSITIONED NEXT TO Captain Loring, behind the giant sheet cake with the Night Hawks logo, Hannah mustered a smile for the camera.

  Think gentle waves and rocking boats.

  Capsized was more like it. Seeing McCaffrey today had turned hers upside down. There was something she wanted to tell him, but couldn’t without rocking several boats.

  The enlisted Photographer’s Mate snapped the photo capturing her frown. “One more of the two of you cutting the cake,” he insisted.

  Loring dipped his sword into the first slice as they both held on to the handle. “I don’t see your mother, Hannah?”

  Hannah cast a sidelong glance at the man just as the photographer took his next snapshot. “Hold for one more,” he said again.

  If she didn’t manage a smile, they’d be here all day.

  “She’s driving over with my sister and the baby in our car. It’s easier than switching Fallon’s car seat back and forth.”

  “Will your mother be in the San Diego area long?”

  “Until the end of next week.”

  “Maybe she’ll have time for dinner with an old friend.” He smiled into the camera.

  Her mom and Captain Loring? Friends? Now that would take some getting used to. A slower, less certain smile spread across Hannah’s face. “Maybe.”

  “Got it!” the photographer said.

  Before the polite applause ended, she found herself searching the O Club for her mother and sister. “Sammy! Over here!” Hannah waved her through the door of the crowded banquet room. “Where’s Fallon?”

  “Fallon’s cranky. Mom had me drive them home.”

  “Oh.” Hannah quickly hid her disappointment. With McCaffrey here maybe it was for the best. “I should go, too.”

  At home she could look into her daughter’s eyes, where the reason for keeping father and daughter apart made sense. She didn’t want to hurt either of them. But it was a decision already causing her pain.

  “No way, this is your big day. Besides, you promised to introduce me to Spencer Holden. I’ve only been in love with him forever.”

  Like every other groupie.

  Holden had caused quite a stir when he’d walked away from the fame and fortune of Hollywood to enroll in an Ivy League college. A few years later he’d walked into a Navy recruiting office. The paparazzi still followed him around as if he were Elvis.

  At first Hannah had found it all amusing, but it soon became annoying.
And now her own sister had joined the ranks of the starstruck.

  Sammy leaned back against the bar and surveyed the room. “Wow! Are all these guys single?”

  “Not all.” Hannah was too jaded not to see past a well-cut uniform—with one exception of course, and he seemed to have disappeared. Finally she could relax. Except Sammy had that kid-in-a-candy-store look that made Hannah want to rush her sister from the O Club before she bit into the goodies.

  “Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander Stanton.” Lieutenant Russell Parish, her Executive Officer squeezed through the crowd and came toward them.

  “Yes, Russ, what is it?” He stopped next to Sammy, who had eyes only for Spence and every other pilot out on the dance floor.

  “Ma’am.” Russ acknowledged Sammy as he reached across her to hand Hannah his calling card.

  Sammy shifted her gaze to give Russ the once-over, but dismissed the crew-cut pilot for other more appealing eye candy.

  Russ was too well mannered to take offense. “When would you like me to come calling, ma’am?” This time the “ma’am” was directed at Hannah.

  “Why don’t I have my social secretary call you?”

  Parish’s eyes skittered to her sister, but he didn’t so much as smile. “Yes, ma’am.” He spared another “ma’am” and a nod to Sammy before he moved away.

  “What a geek,” Sammy said when he was out of earshot.

  Privately Hannah agreed, but he was a geek who followed protocol. She handed Sammy the card. “There are going to be more of these.”

  “Give me a break. I’m not drop-dead gorgeous. I’m not tall. Or thin. Or you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Forget it.”

  Sammy had put on the freshman fifteen in college. Then another as she’d settled into teaching at the elementary level. And another during a rotten relationship that had been a blessing in disguise for Hannah and Fallon—Sammy’s need to “get away” had coincided with Hannah’s need for a nanny— But Hannah had never realized until now that the highs and lows in her sister’s life were marked by weight gain. Or that her sister might be unhappy about that.