He glanced at the clock. It was almost seven. Didn’t little kids go to bed by now? He didn’t suppose Caitlyn could tell time. Maybe, he could fool her into thinking it was bedtime even if it wasn’t. He looked down at Carter. His food-encrusted eyelids were definitely drooping.
“Okay. Time for bed. Go put on your pajamas.”
Caitlyn started to say something, but then closed her mouth. She turned as if to do his bidding, then stopped, looking like she was ready to cry herself. “I dunno where I’m s’posta sleep.”
Rich propped the baby over his shoulder, and felt a surge of an unfamiliar emotion when the kid snuggled up against him. “I guess you can sleep in Ski’s room.” He pointed toward Ski’s closed bedroom door, then he remembered the extensive collection of Babe of the Month posters on the wall. “Oops,” he said, yanking her back. “On the other hand, you can sleep in mine.”
He pushed open the door and ushered her in, pointing to his queen-size bed. “See, it’s big enough for both of you.” He started to put the baby down, but Caitlyn shook her head. “You hafta get his portacwib. He’ll fall off da bed.”
Portacrib? He’d seen Rebecca with a couple of suitcases, but he didn’t remember anything that looked like a crib. He looked back out into the living room to the pile of stuff Ski had dragged in before he left. There were more supplies there than he’d need for a two-week hike. He looked at the bewildering pile of kid paraphernalia and blew out a tired breath.
Caitlyn marched over to a flattened contraption of wood and mesh. “Tha’s it. You gots to unfode it.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, wondering how he could accomplish that and hold on to Carter, too. This project was going to take both hands.
“Can you hold your brother for me?” he asked, already knowing it wasn’t going to work.
Caitlyn shook her head. “Mommy says I might dwop him.”
Rich was beginning to run out of options here. If he put Carter on the bed, he might roll off. If he tried to hold Carter and assemble the bed, he’d surely drop the kid flat on the floor. That’s it. The floor.
He laid Carter down in the middle of the rug and held his breath to see if he repeated the siren routine. So far, so good.
The mechanism wasn’t too complicated, and Rich had the bed set up in short order. Just a few minutes and he’d have the kids squared away. Then he could clean up and catch some Z’s of his own. He reached for Carter to put him in the crib, but the prim expression on Caitlyn’s face stopped him. “Now what?” he asked irritably.
“You gots to put a sheet on,” she said as if he were the dumbest man in the world.
“You got one on you?” he snapped, his patience stretched as far as it would go.
“Huh?” Caitlyn had apparently not heard that expression before.
“Never mind.” He went to the hall closet and grabbed a sheet. The one with the beer can design. Carter wouldn’t know the difference. He’d thought they were cool when he bought them; now he was thinking otherwise. He clumsily covered the plastic mattress and looked at Caitlyn. She might only be four years old, but she was the expert in the room.
“Okay,” she said, looking like a less-than-pleased drill sergeant.
He put Carter in. The baby fussed a little, but seemed ready to go to sleep. He turned toward Caitlyn.
“You gots to change his diaper.”
He was afraid she’d say that. He turned back to the crib. Carter looked pretty cozy, and he was reluctant to disturb him, but he figured a kid with diaper rash would really be hard to deal with.
Rich managed to get the wet diaper off easy enough, but he didn’t have a fresh one to put on. He looked at Caitlyn. She pointed to another diaper bag.
“Mommy always throws a diaper over him until she’s done,” Caitlyn said matter-of-factly.
Rich wondered if she was shielding her daughter from a close view of the male anatomy, and decided as long as he stayed between her and Carter, he could manage until he got the new diaper and put it on him.
He turned back and quickly learned why Sherry covered him with a diaper as a jet of liquid squirted nearly to the ceiling. “Whoa! How the he—heck does one kid hold so much?” He tossed the disposable diaper over the stream, startling Carter and making him cry. This parent thing was tough duty, he couldn’t help thinking as he struggled to fasten the thing.
The diaper looked none-too secure, but it would have to do. He turned to Caitlyn. “Okay, young lady. Time for you to hit the sack.”
“I can’t go to bed until Mommy hears my prayers,” she said. “We gots to call her up.”
Rich rolled his eyes and blew out an impatient breath. “How ’bout I listen tonight?” he suggested, knowing instantly it wouldn’t fly. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done with the number, and if Rebecca had left him any, he didn’t know where they were.
“No. Mommy. I gotta say ’em for Mommy.” So far, Caitlyn had behaved like a trouper, but Rich had a sinking feeling he’d just run out of luck.
“I want my Mommy,” she wailed. Carter, who had almost drifted off to sleep, joined the chorus.
Rich had the greatest urge to join in, too, but that would solve nothing. He needed a kid expert, and he needed one fast. He called directory assistance and dialed the home number of the only person he could think of who might be able to help.
When she answered, he blurted out a desperate plea. “Jennifer, can you come over to my place? I need your help. Fast.”
Chapter Four
Jennifer switched the phone from one ear to the other as she listened to Rich’s panicked request. For one brief moment, she’d thought he was asking her for a date, but her fluttering heart skidded to a halt when she heard the unmistakable sound of a child crying in the background.
“Okay,” she said, tempering her disappointment. It was probably better this way anyway, she convinced herself. And her curiosity was running at full throttle. “Why don’t you tell me just what’s going on.”
She was on the living room phone, tethered by an eight-foot wire, and she needed to be in the kitchen. The spaghetti was past done, and if it didn’t get drained soon, all she’d have was mush. She stretched as far as the cord would allow her and turned off the stove and listened.
Rebecca Tucker had stuck Rich with Sherry’s kids. The woman had to be truly desperate if she was entrusting them to him. The man might be able to hack his way through a jungle with one hand tied behind him, but she’d bet he was clueless when it came to child care. Another wailing voice followed the first one.
She would definitely win that bet.
“Tell you what,” she finally said when Rich had finished his desperate explanation. The guy had to be at the end of his rope if he’d actually admitted that he needed her. Even if it was just to help with his niece and nephew. “I don’t have that much experience with kids, and I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I just got finished cooking up a batch of spaghetti sauce. I’ll bring it over. Once we get the kids settled, we can eat.” If they got the kids settled, she didn’t say. Of course, that meant that the noodles she’d already cooked were toast, but that couldn’t be helped. She had plenty more to cook later.
Jennifer could almost feel Rich’s relief coming through the phone wires. She wanted to think it was because she was coming, not to help with the kids, not to bring the food, but for herself. But she was realistic enough to know that wasn’t the case. Besides, she’d already learned her lesson about that kind of man. She didn’t need that.
Rich needed a woman to help with the kids. Period. Any woman who’d passed Child Care 101 would do.
Her experience with kids was limited, at best. She didn’t have many friends with children, and her siblings hadn’t started having theirs when she’d married and moved away. She wasn’t sure how much help she’d be, but she’d give it her best effort.
“Jennifer?”
She hadn’t realized that she’d been woolgathering and found herself blushing even though she was alone in the
room. “Yes, sorry. I was thinking about the logistics of getting this stuff over to you,” she said. “I’ll be there in about half an hour.”
“Great! You don’t know how glad I am to hear that. I’ll be waiting.”
Probably watching at the window, Jennifer thought. Too bad the cavalry wasn’t going to be that much help. “Just one thing, Rich. Go ahead and let Caitlyn call her mother. I’m sure that will be the best thing for everybody.”
Rich mumbled something about not knowing what the number was, but Jennifer didn’t respond. She just hung up. She wasn’t sure why she’d just agreed to do this. She just knew she had to.
For the kids, she told herself.
She almost believed it.
FEELING SOMEWHAT relieved, Rich hung up. Jennifer was coming. Finally, an expert in the house. If he could only survive till she got here. Half an hour. He could do it.
He hoped.
In the meantime, he had to find the number so Caitlyn could call Sherry. She should have known that he wouldn’t make a satisfactory mom substitute, even if Rebecca didn’t. Hell, he didn’t even know that diaper thing.
He looked at Caitlyn, her pixie face puffy and wet with tears. She looked back, her eyes wide and questioning. For the moment, she wasn’t wailing, but her small body shuddered violently with residual sobs.
Rich took a deep breath.
“Caitlyn, did your Aunt Becky leave me any phone numbers in all that stuff?” He gestured toward the mountain of kiddie gear he’d yet to explore.
“Inna diaper bag,” she said, then wiped her nose with the back of her arm. “Mommy always puts a piece a paper inna diaper bag in case of a ’mergency.”
Rich exhaled and headed for the bag. He just hoped that Rebecca did the same thing. She wasn’t a mother, so she might not know.
That stopped him. Jennifer wasn’t a mother either. What if she didn’t know anymore about what to do with the kids than he did?
No, he wasn’t going to think that.
Even if she didn’t have real mother experience, surely mothering was a woman thing. Didn’t they have instincts? Wasn’t child care know-how part of the package?
He found a sheet of folded paper, with neat printing on it, tucked into a pocket on the outside of the diaper bag. The numbers.
Damn, it had every number imaginable on it. From Sherry’s to Rebecca’s home number—where Rebecca wouldn’t even be—to the pediatrician and poison control. Poison control? What did she think he was going to do with the kids, feed them tranquilizers?
Then he looked at Caitlyn, still sniffling, and glanced at Carter, whining in the tiny crib. It was tempting, but he did know better than that.
“Okay, Short Stuff, let’s go call your mom.”
“’Kay,” Caitlyn said, still gulping back an occasional sob. She edged closer to him as he reached for the phone and dialed.
Rich held his breath while the circuits connected and the phone started to ring. What if she wasn’t there? Two rings. What if something had happened? Three rings. What would Caitlyn do if Sherry didn’t answer?
She did, and Rich exhaled with relief.
“Hey, Sis. There’s a little girl who needs to speak to you.” He listened while Caitlyn held out her hand for the receiver. “Yeah, they’re fine. Everything’s under control,” he lied. “Yeah, Caitlyn really wants to talk to you. Here she is.” He handed the phone to Caitlyn and hoped she wouldn’t squeal on him.
He was doing the best he could under the circumstances. And, besides, Rebecca had no business dumping them on him without, at least, some warning. Then he glanced at Caitlyn’s little face, her eyes bright and shining as she spoke to her mother, and his heart swelled with emotion. No, he was glad he could help. And Sherry would surely make allowances for his lack of experience.
Surely, she understood that Rich was a rank amateur in all this. Even if Caitlyn didn’t.
WHEN JENNIFER reached Rich’s apartment complex, she stopped to consider what she was getting herself into. She hardly knew Rich Larsen. In fact, prior to this moment, all they’d had was a business arrangement. Should she be here at all?
She thought of the two small children caught in the middle of it all and decided that she wasn’t doing this for Rich. She was doing it for them. If Rich hadn’t sounded so desperate, she surely would have told him to take a long walk off a short pier.
Or would she?
Jennifer stared up at the second floor of the building that Rich’s apartment was on and wondered what kind of place it was. Was it one of those ultra-messy bachelor pads? A passion pit waiting for the next victim? What was she getting herself into?
Then she reminded herself of the kids. They would be there. They were the reason. It had nothing to do with Rich. She reached for the grocery sack containing the fixings for a spaghetti dinner, then stopped. Why was she even thinking about him?
No sense even thinking about anything more than baby-sitting, Bishop, she told herself as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. There were going to be two pint-size chaperons in attendance.
In spite of all her arguments against getting involved with another combat controller, she wasn’t sure a family evening was what she really wanted.
Mentally chastising herself, Jennifer shifted the bag of groceries in her arms. Her hands were sweaty and her heart pounded. So much for appearing cool and confident, she thought as she raised her hand to knock.
What happened next would be up to Rich.
And the kids, she reminded herself.
RICH HAD NEVER been so glad to hear the doorbell ring in all his life. It had to be Jennifer. He hadn’t ordered a pizza, and they weren’t making enough noise for the downstairs neighbors to be complaining.
He hoped.
Caitlyn had settled down some after talking to Sherry, but it was obvious that she was in no frame of mind to sleep. And Carter had woken up, too, right after Rich had managed to clean up most of the baby’s supper mess.
Rich successfully maneuvered another diaper off and a fresh one on, but the baby didn’t seem the least bit inclined to sleep. How did mothers do it?
Carter seemed happiest—translation, quietest—when Rich held him, so hold him he did. He shifted Carter in his arms and went to let in the reinforcements.
He flung the door open wide and thanked his lucky stars that it really was Jennifer who’d rung. She stood there in the open doorway, her long hair restrained with a blue ribbon that complemented the print of her summer dress. She looked like a guardian angel come to his rescue.
Her arms were laden with a brown sack that emitted an aroma that had his mouth watering and his stomach clamoring for a taste. Rich swallowed and beckoned her in.
“Hi,” he said. “I’d offer to take your bag, but as you can see, my hands are full.”
She just stood there and stared.
“Jennifer?”
Jennifer blinked and tried to force her eyes back into her head. She had been totally unprepared for the sight in front of her: Rich Larsen, bare-chested, wearing camouflage BDU pants, and holding a baby.
Her breath caught in her throat. The vision was so sweet she almost wanted to weep. That innocent little boy with a halo of red peach fuzz snuggled against that hard, wide, bare chest. The baby’s eyes were half closed, and he sucked on one finger.
This was, by far, one of the most tantalizing, sexy sights she could ever have imagined. Any mother seeing that, would have to fall even deeper in love with her child’s father. Jennifer swallowed, moistened her lips and swallowed again. “What happened to your shirt?” she finally managed.
Rich looked down at his bare chest, and Jennifer could have sworn he was blushing. “Oh,” he said. “Carter thought it was fun to spray his dinner everywhere. I swear, he got more stuff on me and the walls than went in him. I took my shirt off to put in the wash, but I never made it to the bedroom for a clean one.”
Bedroom was not the right thing to say, Jennifer thought as she nodded her understanding. How cou
ld she be lusting after the man as if he were Mr. September in a hunk-of-the-month calendar? She just didn’t do stuff like that.
She shook herself out of her wandering thoughts. “If you’ll tell me where to put this…” She indicated the grocery sack. “I’ll put it away, then take the baby. So you can get a shirt on,” she added pointedly.
“Kitchen’s over there.” Rich inclined his head toward an archway on the far side of the room.
Jennifer entered the kitchen expecting to find a disaster area of the first degree, but the room was surprisingly orderly. There was a pile of soggy towels in the corner, but other than that, it appeared reasonably clean. Apparently, he’d found some time to tidy up.
She set the bag on the counter, removed the salad fixings and a bottle of wine and stashed them in the fridge.
Maybe the wine was a little optimistic, she couldn’t help thinking when she considered that the baby was still awake and there was no sign of the little girl. But she had planned to have a glass with her meal when she thought she would be eating it alone. Why not share it?
“Whatcha doin’?” a tiny voice asked.
Jennifer spun around to find a redheaded sprite gazing, wide-eyed, at her. She hastily stashed the wine in the refrigerator and turned back to the child. “Hello,” she said, much too brightly. Gee, she thought, you’d think the girl had caught her trying to abscond with the family silver. “I’m just putting away some stuff for supper.”
“I already had a sammich. My name’s Caitlyn,” the pixie said without missing a beat.
“My name is Jennifer. I’m a friend of your uncle.”
Uncle Sarge Page 5
