Prince Charming in Dress Blues

by Maureen Child

  And Annie felt her heart melt.

  Nine

  “I found formula in the fridge, so when she started fussing, I just fed her,” John said as he looked up and met her gaze. “Hope that’s all right.”

  “Sure,” she said, not bothering to explain that she’d stopped nursing because her doctor had told her she wasn’t producing enough milk for the baby. Another small failure, she thought wryly. But at least Jordan was thriving, and the upside was, when help was available she could take advantage of it. If she was still nursing, John wouldn’t have been able to feed the baby. “But you shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”

  He shrugged. “You needed it.”

  Had she ever. She felt better than she had in days. Rested, alert and, now that she was completely conscious, aware of a certain look in Gunnery Sergeant Paretti’s pale-blue eyes.

  Annie’s stomach pitched, and a slow, deep throbbing pulsed to life inside her. She knew that feeling. Heck, she remembered it. Vaguely. It was the same feeling that had brought her here, to this point in her life. Except there was one major difference: this flash of desire that John Paretti kindled in her was far stronger than anything she’d ever known before. And he didn’t even have to touch her to stoke the flames licking at her insides. A single look was enough to rocket her heartbeat and send warmth shooting to her center. Oh, this couldn’t be good, she thought as her knees liquefied, and she locked them to keep herself from sliding onto the floor.

  How in heaven did the man manage to look so damn sexy while cradling a baby?

  “I made dinner,” he said.

  Oh, God. He cooked, too.

  “And I thought after we eat, we could play with that Web site that’s got you so worried.”

  He gave her a slow smile, and Annie heard her goose being cooked. Not only did he let her sleep, he’d cleaned her apartment, made dinner, cared for her baby and was now offering to help her in her work.

  The man was a saint.

  With just enough devil in his eyes to be completely devastating.

  Oh, man, she was in some serious trouble. And the worst part of it was, she was loving it.

  Once the dishes were done and the baby was asleep and Annie had taken a shower, John sat beside her at the kitchen table and watched as she created an amazing little piece of computerized art.

  The dancing baby shuffled across the screen, stepping on a set of building blocks. Each block held the key for a different page, and as the baby’s feet touched one, it lit up and played a tune. Each block had its own special song that sent the baby into a series of different dance moves. Dazzling color splashed in the background, and the printing font she’d chosen was easy to read and had the feel of a child’s first printing attempt.

  It was damned clever.

  “You’re really good at this, you know?” he said, and was rewarded when she turned to him and grinned.

  “Thanks,” she said, “but the dancing baby was your idea, remember?”

  Of course he remembered. He remembered everything about that week in the mountains. “Yeah, but having an idea and making it work are two different things.” He leaned in closer, close enough to inhale the scent of soap and shampoo and Annie.

  He dragged that scent deep within him, even knowing that it would only fuel the dreams of her that came nightly.

  “And,” she said, “to be fair, it was your idea to use kids blocks as the page keys.”

  “True, but you’re the one who added the different music and made the baby a miniature Fred Astaire.”

  “Ah,” she said, sending him another quick smile. “A mutual admiration society.”

  “You have no idea,” he murmured. Admiration didn’t even come close to describing what he felt for her. There was so much about her that appealed to him. Her strength, her vulnerability, her warm smile and loving touch. Her talent and her quick mind. The way she looked at Jordan and her determination to be everything her child needed. Hell, he even liked how she’d organized her boxes of cereal by height.

  But mostly he loved how she made him feel just by being around her. John gave in to his need to be closer to her and reached over to touch one of the soft blond curls dangling just behind her ear.

  His fingertips brushed against her skin, and she jumped slightly but didn’t pull away. Progress, he thought and indulged himself by enjoying the feel of her silky hair between his fingers. God, he wanted to touch her so badly his palms itched.

  “John,” she said, her voice hushed, strained with what he hoped was the same desire rushing through him.

  “You look beautiful in computer screen light,” he said, making her chuckle. “And I need to kiss you more than I need my next breath.”

  Her laughter stopped dead. She swiveled her head to look at him. He read the flash of hunger in her eyes. And in an instant his own need quickened, blossomed until it nearly strangled him.

  She sucked in a long, shaky breath, then said, “I don’t think—”

  “Good,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Don’t think. Now’s not the time for thinking, Annie.” She tipped her head back to stare up at him. “Now’s the time for tasting,” he said, bending closer to her, “touching,” closer still, “needing.”

  And his mouth came down on hers. At the first touch of her lips, John felt his control crumble. He wanted her desperately and needed her even more. Drawing her into the circle of his arms, he pressed her tightly to him, knowing she could never be close enough. She lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck, and then she tilted her head, meeting his kiss with an urgency all her own.

  On a sigh her lips parted beneath his, and John seized the moment. His tongue swept into her warmth, exploring, tasting. She returned his caress, and their tongues clashed in a wild, warm dance that left them both struggling for air and still it wasn’t enough.

  One hand on her behind, he pulled her hips close, letting her feel exactly what she did to him, letting her know that he was hard and ready and eager for her. She gasped and arched into him, pressing her own body against his strength, and he damn near lost it.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he worked his way along her jaw and down the length of her throat. He paused at the base, to taste the thundering beat of her pulse, enjoying the fact that its crashing rhythm matched his own.

  She sighed again, and that soft sound propelled him onward. Her hands clutched at his back, his shoulders. He felt her hands moving along his spine and wanted nothing more than to tear his shirt off so that nothing would stand between them. Instead he lavished more attention on her. He trailed damp, hot kisses across her chest and cursed softly when he met the edge of her scoop-necked blouse. He wanted more. Needed more. And at her growl of frustration, he realized she needed it, too.

  Walking her backward, he braced her against the kitchen counter, then went down onto his knees in front of her. Lifting the hem of her shirt, he slid his hands up, up, until he captured her small, firm breasts in his palms. Then, while she sagged against the counter, he rubbed her nipples between his fingers until they peaked, and she was shivering.

  “John,” she whispered and he looked up at her. “I can’t…we can’t…it’s too soon after the baby and…”

  “Shh…” he said with a shake of his head. “I know. I know, I just need to touch you. Let me touch you, Annie. Let me feel my way around you.”

  He tweaked her nipples and she let her head fall back as she groaned tightly and curled her fingers around the edge of the counter. “Yes, John. Yes.”

  That’s all he needed to hear. He leaned into her, kissing her breasts, one after the other, letting his tongue and teeth drive her to the brink of madness. And when she was barely holding on, he shifted, kissing her rib cage, her stomach, her abdomen. And then he reached for the waistband of her shorts and slowly pulled them and the scrap of lace-edged panties down and off her shapely legs.

  “John?”

  His hands smoothed over her skin, and when she trembled in his grasp, he steadied h
er.

  “John,” she said again, her voice breathy, strained, “maybe we should stop this now.”

  “Not quite yet,” he murmured as he leaned in toward her and covered her with his mouth.

  “Oh, my!” Annie said, and slapped her hands more firmly on the counter’s edge. “You shouldn’t be—we shouldn’t be—oh my…”

  He worked her most-sensitive flesh with his tongue and his lips. He took her on a wild ride that had her gasping his name and spreading her legs for him eagerly. She shifted clumsily against the counter, trying to give him more room, trying to draw him closer.

  He touched her gently, dipping one finger into her warmth while at the same time, licking at her center as though her body held an exquisite dessert.

  She moved one hand to the back of his head, holding him in place, silently demanding that he finish what he’d started. That he take her to the edge and beyond. That he give her what they both wanted so desperately.

  And John relished it all. He loved that she was so liquid and warm in his arms. That she wanted him as much as he did her. That he was able to give her this—until he was able to give them both so much more. He tasted her, licked at her and touched her until she was writhing against him. And it wasn’t enough. He wanted to push her higher and faster than she’d ever gone before. He wanted to be the man who took her places she hadn’t dreamed existed.

  Annie held on tightly, knowing that if she let go of him—or the counter—she might very well slide off the edge of the world. His mouth. His lips. Dear heaven, his tongue. Her body felt as if it was on fire from the inside. Her hips rocked into him, she went up on her toes as if trying to reach the peak he was driving her toward.

  And yet there was a small, hidden part of her that never wanted to reach that peak. She wanted this to go on and on. To never end. She wanted him with her, on her, in her, as she’d never wanted anything else in her life. She’d been touched before. She’d had sex. Knew the brief, tingle of pleasure that accompanied it. But she’d never known feelings like this.

  So strong.

  So overwhelming.

  She looked down and watched John take her. Watched him stake a claim on her body, on her heart. And while she watched, that tiny tingle of pleasure erupted, leaving her, as always, pleased, but somehow incomplete. At least in this case, the build to that tiny tingle had been more enjoyable.

  Then her body stirred and she realized with a start that it wasn’t over. Annie’s breath caught as the tingle grew and spread, sending tentacles of warmth and spirals of surprise spinning throughout her body. She’d never experienced anything like this. Didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t right, was it? Shouldn’t it be over now, with John easing back with a satisfied smile on his face?

  She shifted, uncomfortable now as the tingling became electrified. As John’s mouth took her further than she’d expected. Further than she’d known she could go. Her hips rocked wildly and her breath staggered in and out of her lungs. She clutched him to her as an unexpected wave of sensation crashed down on top of her, dragging her down, down, and then pushing her up higher than she’d ever gone before. She called out his name when her soul exploded and moaned as the pulsing throbs slowly ebbed, leaving her a limp rag completely at John Paretti’s mercy.

  He stood up, pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her and holding her up while she sagged into him.

  When her heart stopped trying to fly out of her chest, she tipped her head back, smiled up at him and said, “And you cook, too.”

  “Ooh-rah,” John muttered, and kissed the top of her head.

  Amazing, she thought as she let him lead her into the living room and onto the couch. He cradled her against his chest, and Annie didn’t even seem to notice that all she was wearing was her shirt.

  His hands moved over her skin, and it felt so good, so right that she nestled closer against him. “That was…”

  “Good?” he prodded.

  She laughed shortly. “Oh, way better than good,” she assured him, then looked up at him. “But what about you? I mean…” she said in a rush, “it doesn’t seem fair that you’re…well…really you’re not—”

  He kissed her, long and slow and hard, then lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes. “I’m good,” he said tightly, and she heard the strain in his voice so she didn’t quite believe him. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “I want you so bad, my teeth hurt with it.”

  A flush of pure female pride stole over her.

  “And as soon as you’re able, I’m going to show you a few more tricks.”

  Her stomach skittered, and her mouth went dry. “Is that a threat?” she asked.

  “It’s a promise.”

  Oh, boy.

  Three weeks passed so quickly Annie felt as though she was caught inside a whirlwind. She’d never really paid much attention to the passing of time before. But now, looking into her daughter’s tiny face, she noticed. Every day brought a new change. Every morning found Jordan a little more aware of her surroundings, a little more willing to smile and play. A little more forgiving of her still not-so-hot mommy.

  But in her own defense, she had improved quite a bit. Diapers no longer slid off Jordan’s bottom, Annie was able now to recognize the difference between an “I’m hungry” cry and an “I’m bored” cry, and she was no longer terrified that she would somehow emotionally scar her daughter if she did make an occasional mistake.

  And she had to admit that a lot of her newfound confidence was due to John. He made it all seem so easy. So natural. It was hard to be worried about making a mistake when John was there to laugh with her over them. They’d even managed to set a routine of sorts, which comforted the organizational side of Annie’s nature. And John had become a big part of that routine, which delighted the completely irrational side of her nature.

  John Paretti had somehow slipped into her life, her mind and her heart without her even realizing it. She hardly remembered a time when he wasn’t a part of her everyday world.

  He was at the apartment three or four times a week, and though a small voice inside her kept warning her not to let him get so close, she wasn’t listening.

  Jordan’s face lit up whenever he came into a room, and Annie had the distinct feeling hers did, too. Just hearing his step on the walk or his voice from the next room was enough to spur her heart into a wild gallop.

  And the fact that his kisses set fire to her soul and his hands were absolutely magical wasn’t exactly helping.

  But it was so much more than physical want, and that was the really terrifying part. He was fun. He made her laugh. He loved Jordan. And she felt safe with him.

  Which probably wasn’t a good thing at all.

  It wasn’t so long ago that she’d thought Mike Sinclair was the be-all and end-all of her dreams. She’d felt safe then, too. She’d felt loved. Wanted. And then he’d left her so fast her head spun for a week. She’d survived Mike leaving.

  But she wasn’t at all sure she would survive if she actually counted on John and he walked away. That wouldn’t happen, though. She wouldn’t allow herself to care that much. She would just enjoy his company while she had it and not think about the future. A future that, without John, looked mighty empty, she thought.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Annie muttered, “now is not the time.” She finished packing up the diaper bag, deliberately blanking her mind of all thoughts of the tall, dark, gorgeous man who’d turned her life upside down. Bottles, diapers, a blanket, a pacifier, a sweater and another set of jammies just in case. Good Lord, John probably went out on maneuvers with less equipment.

  “And that’s another thing,” Annie said, glancing at her daughter. “He’s not exactly stable right now.” Jordan blew a spit bubble at her. “He doesn’t know if he’s going to stay in the Corps or leave to run his father’s company. And if he doesn’t even know that, how can he know if he wants to be with us or not?” Jordan shook her head and waved her arms.

&
nbsp; “Don’t argue with me, young lady,” she said in a mock stern voice that brought a flood of giggles rippling from Jordan.

  “What’s so funny?” John stepped through the open front door and came across the room in a few lazy strides.

  Annie’s heartbeat skipped crazily for a long minute as she let herself enjoy the sight of him. Long legs encased in worn blue jeans. A red polo shirt with a Marines emblem right above his heart. Her own heart did a slow roll in her chest despite her best efforts to prevent it. Amazing what that man could do to her simply by walking into a room.

  “You ready to go?” John asked as he stepped up behind her and pulled her flush against him.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on the hard, thick strength of his body pressing into hers. Annie swallowed hard and reminded herself to breathe. But it wasn’t easy. Not when every time he was near, all she wanted was his hands on her. As if reading her mind, he turned her around in his arms, keeping her close, and slid one hand up to cup her breast.

  “Mmmm…” she whispered, and closed her eyes as his thumb and forefinger tweaked and tugged at her nipple. Even through the fabric of her pale-yellow sweater and the bra she wore beneath it, she felt his touch. Right down to her bones.

  He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. “Maybe we don’t have to go after all,” he whispered, dropping kisses across her forehead, her temples, the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we could stay right here and—”

  The baby squawked and kicked her feet against the jumper frame, effectively splintering the mood.

  John chuckled, looked over Annie’s head at the baby and, smiling, said, “Darlin’, you and I are going to have to have a talk about timing.”

  “Oh,” Annie countered, easing back out of his arms and took a deep breath. “I think her timing’s excellent.”

  “Coward,” he teased.

  “Oh, yeah,” she agreed, then tore her gaze from his and busied herself by gathering up Jordan’s things. “So,” she said, just a little too loudly, “I still think jeans and a sweater is a little underdressed for Easter dinner.”