Rich grabbed up the piles of laundry and noticed that Jennifer was watching him, a skeptical look on her face. “I do know not to wash the dark stuff together with the others,” Rich said. He started toward the door. “I’ll just put these in and you can go.”
“No hurry,” Jennifer said, out of habit. But once Rich had gone, she realized that she’d meant it. In spite of everything, she’d enjoyed the feeling of belonging to a family this afternoon. And she’d enjoyed Rich’s company. She felt like a weight was lifted after opening up to Rich about her relationship with Duke.
Maybe, once all this was over, they could be friends.
The trouble was, she thought, as she cleaned up the remains of the pizza, friendship wasn’t all that she wanted from Rich Larsen.
THE THOUGHT of Beverly’s baby may have brought warm and fuzzy thoughts into Jennifer’s mind, but seeing the tiny infant had multiplied them tenfold.
She couldn’t wait to have one of her own. She wished she’d been able to hold the baby, but considering Caitlyn’s bout with the flu bug, she’d only looked at Nicole Marie though the glass observation window at the nursery. She’d get a chance to see her close-up soon enough.
Jennifer stood in the doorway to Beverly’s room. If she’d thought about it, she probably shouldn’t have come to see Beverly at all. Nick sat on the edge of her bed, and they both had their backs to the door. Jennifer rapped quickly on the jamb. “Hey, Mommy and Daddy. How do you feel?”
They both turned and grinned, though Nick’s smile looked brighter than Beverly’s.
“Like a million bucks,” Nick said.
“I’d deduct about $999,999 and $.50,” Bev said wearily. She nodded toward a chair. “Come in. Sit.”
Jennifer shook her head. “I probably shouldn’t have come at all. Caitlyn seems to have had a stomach bug, but she’s nearly over it now.” She smiled. “I looked at little Nikki through the observation window, though. She’s the prettiest one there.”
“Of course, she is,” Nick agreed. “I can’t wait to get her home.”
Beverly leaned back against the pillows. She looked tired, though happy. “Well, if they want to let me stay here a couple more days, I won’t object. I was not prepared for how hard it is.”
A nurse bustled past Jennifer. “It’s harder on you when the baby comes early. Your body wasn’t finished getting ready. In a day or so, you’ll feel better.” She handed Beverly a paper cup containing a pill and then poured her some water from a pitcher on the bedside table.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Beverly said, accepting the glass of water. She swallowed the pill and washed it down. “It was worth it, though.” She smiled, a faraway look in her eyes.
The expression of love on Beverly’s face was enough to make Jennifer cry. Would she ever feel that way? Or had she wasted her one chance at happiness on Duke Bishop?
She blinked at the moisture that unexpectedly blurred her vision and swallowed a lump in her throat. “I can see you’re tired,” Jennifer said. “How ’bout I let you rest, and I’ll see you when you and Nikki get home.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Beverly said through a yawn. She patted her husband on the hand. “You go home, too, hubby. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
“Roger that,” Nick said. “Tomorrow I get to learn what it’s like to be a daddy for real.”
Jennifer had to smile as she watched him kiss his wife. She wondered if he knew just what he was getting into? And she wondered, if everybody got to do what she and Rich were doing before marriage, would anybody have a child?
She waved to Beverly and turned away. Nick might not know about how rough it is, but he’d soon find out. And, considering her trial by fire had not prevented her from thinking about having one of her own, she didn’t think it would have daunted either Beverly or Nick.
“DAMN,” RICH MUTTERED as he looked at the five dryers whirling away. His four loads of laundry were done, but there wasn’t a single dryer free. Why there were six dryers to eight washers made little sense to him, and to make matters worse, one of the dryers had an out-of-order sign taped to it. He checked the timers on all the machines. From the looks of it, they’d just been activated.
He dreaded going back upstairs and telling Jennifer that she’d have to stay even longer. Though she’d seemed excited about seeing the baby, she really looked beat.
Rich waited around for a couple more minutes in hopes that somebody would come and empty one of the dryers, but no such luck. He drew in a deep breath, set the timer on his watch to remind him in fifteen minutes, and headed upstairs.
The living room was dark, and Jennifer wasn’t there, but Rich heard voices from the bedroom. He tiptoed to the half-closed door and listened.
Caitlyn must have wakened, for Jennifer was reading her a bedtime story. The voices he’d heard were really just one, but Jennifer was acting out all the characters, giving each a voice and a personality of his own. What a wonderful mother she’d make!
Eyelids drifting downward, then fluttering back up, Caitlyn listened with rapt attention. She was obviously fighting sleep to hear the end.
He couldn’t wait until he and Jennifer had their own kids to read to. Whoa! The thought whammed him like a round from a Howitzer. No, he told himself. Surely, he didn’t mean children belonging to him and Jennifer jointly, but each having their own.
They’d never really had a date, unless you counted tonight and the wedding. It was a far cry to suddenly start thinking about children with her.
But, once that notion had entered his brain, Rich had a hard time letting it go. Would it be so bad to have what Nick and Beverly seemed to have?
No. He shook his head. He couldn’t do that. There was too much of his father in him. He was sure that Rick Larsen had expected to be a good father, but look what had happened to him. No, there was no way he was going to put any child through what he’d been through.
No way in hell.
“And they all lived happily ever after,” Jennifer read. She closed the book and sighed. “Wasn’t that a nice story, Caitlyn?”
Caitlyn didn’t respond, and Jennifer looked down at her and smiled. “Goodnight, sweetie,” she said, then kissed her on top of her curly red head and carefully slipped away.
She put the book on the bedside table and tiptoed toward the door. She must have just noticed him standing there, Rich realized, because she stopped short as she reached for the light switch. Her breath caught.
“I didn’t see you there,” she said, recovering.
“I didn’t want to disturb the performance,” Rich said. “Where did you learn to read stories like that?”
“My mom always read stories to me,” Jennifer said, switching off the light. “It was a given.” She stepped out and shut the door behind her.
Maybe his mother had read to him like that when he was a kid, but Rich didn’t remember. He remembered the fights, and the arguments, and the days when his dad was too drunk to stand. Maybe Mom wanted to do things like that, but his father had kept her too busy defending herself.
He wondered why she’d stayed all that time.
“Did you get the stuff in the dryers?”
Jennifer’s question jerked him back. “You’re not gonna like this,” he said.
“Try me. Did you turn everything dingy gray?”
Rich rolled his eyes. “No, I did not turn everything gray, but the dryers were all in use.”
Jennifer shrugged philosophically. “It happens. Did you check to see when they’d be done?”
Proud that he’d had the foresight, Rich grinned. He tapped the face of his watch. “Yep, set the timer to remind me to go back and check.” As if to verify his statement, it beeped. “That’s my cue.” He headed for the door. “Cross your fingers that the other guy is keeping track, too.”
“Fingers duly crossed, sir,” Jennifer said, raising her hands to show him.
“Thanks,” he said. “Be right back. I hope.”
JENNIFER GLANC
ED at the clock on the VCR. Rich had been gone for an awfully long time. Was he planning to stay in the laundry room until all the washing was dry?
She leaned back against the couch cushions. Now that she’d had a chance to sit down, the fatigue she’d been fighting all day returned with vengeance. She yawned and stretched and leaned back. Maybe if she just closed her eyes, she could rest. What could it hurt if she slept for a few minutes?
FINALLY, the washing was spinning in the dryers. Whoever had left the stuff in the dryer hadn’t come down to get it. After waiting almost thirty minutes, Rich had done the most expedient thing he could think of. He’d taken the dry clothes out and placed them on the folding table.
Rich looked around. There was still no sign of the owner of the clothes, and Rich hated the idea of leaving them piled in a heap. So he’d folded the towels and sheets, but left the woman’s intimate things alone. He wondered if he knew the owner of the stuff, then shook away the notion. Why waste his time thinking about her?
He had a woman of his own to go back to. Sort of.
He checked the timers on the machines and, again, set his watch. Maybe that other woman had time to wait. He didn’t. Jennifer had to go home.
Not that he would mind if she stayed all night. Hell, he wouldn’t mind if she stayed forever.
No, he reminded himself as he trudged upstairs. It was stupid to go there. He was not the kind of man who would make it over the long haul. He might want to, but there was nothing he could do about it. It was in his genes.
And you couldn’t argue with heredity, he told himself as he let himself into the apartment.
Jennifer was curled up on the couch sleeping like a baby. He chuckled, and thought how much she looked like Caitlyn.
He started to wake her, but shrugged. No, she could wait for the laundry to dry asleep as well as she could awake, and obviously, she needed the rest.
He went to the kitchen and turned on the light. Two slices of pizza left in the fridge earlier were calling to him, and he could think of worse ways to kill time.
The pizza was good, even warmed up, and by the time he’d eaten and cleaned up, it was time to retrieve the wash.
Baskets laden with fresh-smelling laundry, Rich let himself back in. Jennifer was still asleep, and he hated to wake her, but he had to.
He put the basket down and knelt beside her. “Jennifer, I’m done, you can go home.”
She muttered something, but didn’t rouse.
Rich touched her on the shoulder. “Jennifer. You have to wake up now.”
“Lea’ me ’lone,” she murmured, clumsily brushing his hand away. “Tired.” She rolled toward the back of the couch.
Rich drew in a deep shuddering sigh. Now what? He knew he should wake her, he knew he should send her home, but he couldn’t.
He lifted her gently into his arms and carried her into Ski’s room. To the bed.
Chapter Twelve
Rich had intended to be a gentleman and sleep on the couch, but after only a few minutes that seemed like hours on the five-foot sofa, his six-foot-plus frame felt twisted like a pretzel. He’d tried the floor, but the carpeting had less padding than the sleeping bag stowed away in the equipment locker at the squadron. He’d slept in worse conditions, but then he’d had the luxury of a bedroll between him and the hard ground. And he’d been dead tired.
He hadn’t been distracted by lustful thoughts about a woman sleeping just a room away.
Linking his fingers behind his head, he lay back and stared at the patterns of light sneaking in through the cracks between the venetian blinds. The lights weren’t as distracting as the posters had been, but with his only choices the floor and the tiny couch, he wasn’t likely to sleep.
He had to get up in the morning, do PT, and show up ready and able for duty. Rich willed himself to sleep.
As if that would work.
After what seemed like hours spent trying to make himself comfortable, he gave it up.
There was plenty of room in Ski’s bed, and he’d just lie down long enough to get some shut-eye. He’d roll out of bed before Jennifer even knew he was there. He needed a comfortable place to sleep. That was all, he convinced himself.
He tiptoed to the bedroom door and looked inside.
Jennifer was curled up in a ball right in the middle of the queen-size bed. She appeared to be sleeping so soundly that a grenade could go off next to her, and she wouldn’t hear a thing. If only Rich had that kind of exhaustion to sedate him into unconsciousness.
There was plenty of room on either side, and he just needed to get some Z’s. Nothing more.
He positioned himself carefully beside her on top of the covers. He wasn’t cold, just tired. Jennifer was doing him a huge favor, and no way was he going to take advantage.
He lay there, hugging his side of the bed, hardly daring to breathe. Eventually, he willed his tense muscles to relax. This was going to work, he told himself.
Then with a whimpering sigh, Jennifer shifted positions.
Rolling over in her soft, dark cocoon of slumber, Jennifer encountered an obstacle. A warm, comfortable obstacle that seemed to fit itself to her. The sensation was not unpleasant, and she snuggled closer. It was warm and soothing against her, and Jennifer melted into its embrace and succumbed again to healing sleep.
She dreamed of strong arms holding her, of warm breath on her chilly skin, and whispered words of love. If only it were true, she thought from the depths of her subconscious. True or not, she could enjoy the dream. She might have no control over what happened in real life, but in sleep she could have whatever she wanted. True love, happiness, children.
Anything.
She could have anything, but she wanted Rich.
How real this dream seemed! Jennifer could almost smell Rich’s aftershave mingled with the warm, man-scent that was uniquely his. How wonderful it was to lay protected in the shelter of his embrace.
Jennifer drew in a deep, satisfied breath. Halfway between waking and sleep, she rolled to her back and stretched like a lazy cat in front of a blazing fireplace. “I could lie like this forever,” she murmured.
She heard a rumble in response. Had she spoken aloud?
She turned toward the sound, and rolled to her side and pillowed her head on one bent arm so she could see. What did she almost see in the dim light between her and the window?
“Are you all right, Jennifer?” He moved and rolled toward her.
Perhaps, if she hadn’t been caught between her dreams and the real world, this might have alarmed her. In her fuzzy state, it seemed perfectly natural.
“Rich, you’re here,” she murmured, her body tingling with delight as his warm hand settled on her hip, and branded her with its heat.
He didn’t answer right away, and Jennifer thought she had succumbed to wishful thinking. Maybe she was still asleep, and she had dreamed it.
“Yeah,” he answered finally, his voice husky and thick with sleep. “You okay with it?”
Jennifer shivered as she realized it wasn’t a dream.
“You drifted off while I was downstairs in the laundry room. I couldn’t wake you, so I put you in Ski’s bed,” he answered softly.
Had she asked the question out loud? Or had Rich just read her mind?
Jennifer roused from her sleep-drugged state and looked around. She was fully dressed and tucked snugly under the covers. Rich lay on top, still wearing his BDU pants and the olive-drab T-shirt stretched tightly across his considerable chest. Except that his arm was draped protectively over her hip, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back, he had made no untoward advances.
She couldn’t help wishing he had. Though she and Duke had been separated for over a year, and had been officially divorced for months, she still kept her birth control prescription filled. Not because she had been sleeping around, but because of what it did for her complexion.
Still, since she was taking them…
Why not…?
She shouldn’t
be thinking about that. Getting any more deeply involved with Rich Larsen would be a giant mistake, she told herself.
“Go to sleep, Jennifer,” Rich whispered. Then he drew his hand away and rolled to face the window.
Jennifer heaved a frustrated sigh. Now, she was wide awake, and the only thing she could think about was making love to Rich. Why was he being such a gentleman?
She rolled to face the window and found him silhouetted against the light coming through the broken blinds. She turned over to face the wall. How was she going to sleep? She punched her pillow, and wriggled around, trying to make herself comfortable like a puppy in the hay.
As comfortable as she could possibly get, considering the circumstances, Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut and tried to count sheep. But the only image that materialized behind her closed lids was Rich’s face. No fluffy lambs, bleating ewes or proud rams, just Rich. Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them till she saw flashes of light, but Rich reappeared as soon as she let up.
She was not going to sleep at all if this continued all night. She had to face it. She wanted Rich. As a lover and a friend.
Rich had never indicated that he didn’t want her. In fact, his kisses had told her what neither of them had been willing, or able, to admit. Jennifer drew in a long, deep breath. “Rich?”
“Yes,” he murmured in response.
“I can’t sleep. Will you hold me?”
Rich hardly dared to breathe. He was afraid that if he touched her again, he wouldn’t be able to stop with just touching.
Finally, Rich expelled a long, slow breath. He had never taken an unwilling partner in his life, and it was the last thing he wanted to do now.
“Just hold me. That’s all,” she said in a breathy whisper.
Rich reached over to hold her, to draw her into his arms. His muscles, his loins were coiled so tightly he feared he might explode. He pressed her against his chest, her back to him to hold temptation at bay.
Uncle Sarge Page 15
