Her heart leaped and blood rushed to her head. Seth.
“What are you doing here?” she asked without slowing down, somewhat dazed she hadn’t sensed his approach. “As of today, I know you know where I work, so don’t give me the excuse that you couldn’t call to set up a meeting.”
“Actually, I did call,” he said in that resonant, severe, sexy voice that made her feel like a cat being taunted with a bowlful of cream. “But alas, you’d already left for the day.”
“And you decided another surprise visit would somehow be a good idea?”
“It’s been several days, Becca. You can’t expect me to wait forever.”
Breathing in through her nose, she stopped and faced him. Dressed in khakis and a casual, short-sleeved royal blue shirt, he shouldn’t have held the same austere, commanding presence that he had on Saturday in his dress blues. But somehow, he did. Her eyes slid down the length of him before embarrassment dragged them back up. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Do you?” he asked in a humor-drenched voice. “Please fill me in. What am I doing?”
“You’re trying to keep me in a perpetual state of…of—” Dang it! What was the word she wanted. Unable to find it or deal with his self-satisfied smirk, she settled for, “Weakness. Strike when the enemy is least prepared, right?”
“I don’t consider you my enemy, Rebecca. But yes, surprise is a method often employed to achieve the upper hand in most types of negotiations.” Shadows, dark and searching, entered his eyes, his expression. “We both know what Saturday was about. I’d rather not waste additional minutes backtracking over already-covered ground.”
“Agreed. As long as you understand I’m not accepting your proposal.”
“That would be called backtracking, as you made that quite clear three days ago.”
She couldn’t decide if he was up to something or simply trying to put her at ease. Raising her chin, she said in a bore-no-room-for-argument tone, “I won’t change my mind.”
“Understood.” Seth reached out to touch her, but pulled back. “You look upset. I’ve heard that stress can sometimes cause problems during pregnancy. My goal isn’t to upset you.”
“I’m fine and so is the baby.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “We’re okay.”
Relief eased the furrows that etched his brow. He bent slightly at the waist, as if he were a gentleman from a long-ago time and she his lady, and held out his hand. “Shall we continue with your walk then?”
Because the idea of walking side by side with Seth was so very appealing, she pointed to the school a few blocks up. “I’m going there. Then, I’ll go home. Why don’t you wait on my porch and let me finish my walk in peace. We can talk when I get back.”
“I’d rather stay with you.”
“I won’t be long and you…you can spend the time searching for your ring.”
One corner of his mouth quirked in a delicious sort of half smile. “Drives you crazy that I left the ring there, doesn’t it?”
“Not crazy. I happen to think it’s…senseless.”
“It’s a valuable ring,” Seth said with less concern than he might show for a lost quarter. “Someone could find it…probably resell it for a decent amount. Finders keepers, I guess.”
“Exactly. Which is why you should locate the dang ring.”
“I find I’m…content knowing the ring is on your property. So, Rebecca,” he said, lifting his fingers to flutter gently in her hair. “If you really want to return your engagement ring, you’ll have to conduct your own search.”
Her breath caught at his touch, at the tingles of pleasure that teased and bobbed along her skin so effortlessly. “Your ring,” she said in a husky whisper. “I never accepted it.”
“But you did, sweetheart. I have vivid recall of that moment.”
She pulled out of his hold, fast, before she did something utterly stupid and kissed him. Because yes, that was exactly what her traitorous body craved. Nothing but hormones. “I can claim what was in my head far more accurately than you can. And I did not accept your ring.”
“Hmm. I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.” Seth captured her hand in his. “Let’s finish our walk before it gets dark. Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“Um…no. I thought I’d make dinner later.” Without thinking, she matched her stride to Seth’s when he took off toward the school. “Sandwiches and fresh fruit. Nothing special, but enough for two. If you’re hungry, that is. Since we have to talk, anyway.”
Gracious. Now she was blabbering.
“That sounds good.” Seth’s thumb traced an invisible circle on the outside of her hand. “Maybe we can go out for ice cream after.”
“Maybe.”
Seth continued to absently rub his thumb in that lazy, circular motion. Warmth followed his touch, wherever skin met skin, until she’d have sworn a circle of fire had been branded on her hand. She wasn’t supposed to be doing this—holding hands with Seth, taking an evening stroll together and talking about what their plans were for the evening.
This was not what she wanted.
They reached the sidewalk that ran alongside the school. Nodding toward the benches on the far side of the playground, she said, “Let’s stop here for a minute. I’m a little tired.”
Seth’s hold on her hand tightened. “You’re feeling okay, though?”
“Yes, Seth. Nothing’s wrong that a few minutes off my feet won’t cure.”
“We should have turned back sooner,” was his gruff response. But he led her to the benches, and once there, waited for her to sit before taking the spot next to her. “Is it normal to tire after a few blocks of walking? Should I be worried?”
“It is normal, and no, you shouldn’t worry.” Deciding to poke a stick into the cage to see if she could wake the bear, she said, “You don’t seem angry with me anymore. Why is that?”
“I’ve calmed down,” he said in a quiet, if terse, timbre. “Remaining angry at something that can’t be changed is useless. I’d rather move forward.”
“Forward how?” One breath in, another out. “I’m confused by your change in behavior. What’s your plan here?”
“I thought we’d finish our walk, have some dinner, engage in a little conversation and maybe go out for ice cream,” he said easily. Convincingly. “I thought we’d established that.”
“What about tomorrow, or the next day, or the one after that?”
Stretching out his legs, he said, “We’ll figure that out tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.”
Had she ever met such a confusing man? Rebecca didn’t think so. Actually, she’d be willing to bet she hadn’t, and she hated games of chance. “Thanks for clearing that up.”
“No problem.” Suddenly, he tipped his head to the right while his gaze shifted away from hers. He scooted off the bench, and before her brain could piece together his movements, Seth Foster was, once again, kneeling in front of her.
“No! No way.” Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa went her heart. “I told you earlier that I am not accepting your proposal. Ever. This isn’t the 1800s, or even the 1950s. A woman can remain single and have a baby. It happens all the time now.” She started to pull herself up, which frankly, wasn’t that easy of a task, when Seth’s hand grasped her foot.
“Relax, Rebecca. I’m not proposing. Though, it bears saying that your repeated and emphatic refusals are beginning to wear on me.” He sighed the sigh of a hurt man. She didn’t buy it for a second. “I do have some pride, you know.”
Not proposing? “But you’re kneeling.”
“I am.” He tugged at the laces on her left sneaker. “I’m tying your shoe, before you fall and I have to spend the night pacing in the hospital, worrying if you and our baby are okay.”
“Oh.” She took that in and shrugg
ed in feigned indifference. “Well, then. Go ahead.”
“Besides which,” he said in an irritatingly cheerful manner, “You’ll be proposing to me soon enough. And when you do, Rebecca, I promise you that I will say yes.”
Chapter Four
Seth plugged the address he’d written down that morning into his GPS and put the car into drive. Mild temperatures, lush greenery and a dynamite view of Mount Hood on a clear day—like today—made Portland in June a beautiful place to be.
He’d loved growing up here. If he’d chosen a different career, he’d likely never have left—though the fact he piloted C-17s kept him relatively close to home, as he was based a few miles outside of Tacoma at McChord AFB. When he wasn’t deployed or away on an overseas mission, visiting his family on a somewhat regular basis hadn’t proved problematic.
Stopping at a red light, Seth rolled down his window. Air, fresh and clean and vibrant with the city’s afternoon energy, filled his lungs. Yes, he loved this city. Even so, chances were good he’d never live here again. He’d known for a good portion of his life that he was built for the Air Force. This surety had less to do with wanting to fly—though that need ran hard and deep in his blood—than it did with what the Air Force represented.
His desire to have an active role in the protection, stability and growth of the United States of America drove him day in and day out. Some would describe his unwavering commitment as a calling, and perhaps they were right. Seth could no sooner walk away from that aspect of his life, of who he was, than he could his own child.
A possible quandary, given his current predicament.
That reason alone made it worthwhile to keep moving forward. He’d screwed up his initial plan of using calm, reasonable logic to convince Rebecca to marry him the second he allowed his anger—justified as it might be—to get the better of him.
As much as he despised the possibility of being a part-time dad, he gave the idea due consideration. Yes, he’d see his kid whenever he came to Portland. Later on, the child could visit him. If given no other choice, he could and would make the setup work. But every cell in his body resisted the notion. He wanted more. His child deserved more.
Perhaps he was being overly idealistic, but he still felt marrying Rebecca made the most sense. His new plan was to show her that he was good father and husband material until she reached the same conclusion he had and proposed to him. A long shot for sure, but he had to try.
Seth tightened his grip on the steering wheel when the burn of his earlier anger resurfaced. Eventually, he’d have to make peace with that anger, with what Rebecca tried to do. But not yet. Smarter, for now, to focus on concrete goals. He’d once seen the possibility of a future with Rebecca. It wasn’t such a reach to bring that future back into view.
The female, robotic-sounding GPS voice told him to prepare for an upcoming left-hand turn. He did, and as he continued toward his destination, he tried not to feel too optimistic. It was still early days, and last night technically couldn’t be called a victory.
Even so, Seth had spent almost an entire evening with Rebecca without once being asked to leave. His stomach did an unmanly flip-flop when he recalled the sultry-eyed, begging-to-be-kissed look she’d given him. The same look that haunted his memories.
Maybe he could allow himself a minute amount of optimism. Cautious, in-no-way-was-the-war-won optimism. Next time, he might even take her up on that look.
Seth pulled his car into the driveway of a well-kept house in one of Portland’s higher-income neighborhoods. The Carmichael family home was a two-story Colonial that boasted symmetrical lines, shuttered windows and a squared-in porch surrounded by pillars. A large willow tree graced the front yard, along with various types of neatly trimmed shrubbery.
Unless he’d completely misconstrued Allison Carmichael’s voice when they’d spoken that morning, she hadn’t been surprised to hear from him. She’d been relieved. He hoped that was the case. It would make gaining her assistance that much easier.
The bright red-painted door swished open seconds before he raised his fist to knock, but not by Rebecca’s mother. Ah, hell. He hadn’t considered that the wild-eyed, fit-to-be-tied, acid-tongued sister would be in residence. Based on the tight-lipped scowl currently decorating Jocelyn’s face, he guessed she was as unhappy to see him as he her.
He reminded himself that he’d fought much tougher foes than a five-foot, one-hundred-pound, overprotective urchin of a girl. Perhaps this particular urchin caused him greater concern than any mission he’d ever undertaken, but she wasn’t going to derail his plans.
“Jocelyn,” he said in greeting. “I believe your mother is expecting me.”
Flashing green eyes narrowed. Her denim-covered hip jutted to the right as her arms crossed over her purple, pink-and-black tie-dyed tank. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”
“Your mother isn’t expecting me?” he asked, deadpan. “I can come back later. When won’t you be home?”
The barest hint of a grin surfaced. “August.”
“What’s in August?”
“California. Grad school. Going for my MBA,” she said in short, clipped syllables that didn’t mask her excitement.
“Yeah? That’s great. Stanford?”
She blinked in surprise. “How’d you guess?”
“California. Grad school. MBA,” he repeated in the same clipped tone she’d used. “Where else would you be going? Had to be Stanford.”
“Wow.” An actual smile appeared, complete with dimples. “So, I guess you’re not a complete idiot.”
“Careful. Your compliments might go to my head.”
“From what Rebecca says, your head can’t get much larger.”
“Is that so? You talk to her recently?”
“This morning.” Jocelyn sniffed in either annoyance or humor. Maybe both. “Ordering her to marry you was stupid. Following that moronic move up with informing her that she’ll be proposing to you was—”
“Priceless?” he filled in.
“Not the word that comes to mind. Try dim-witted.”
“Not so dim-witted when it’s the truth.”
Jocelyn gnawed on her bottom lip. “You really want to marry her?”
“I do.” Seth looked over Jocelyn’s head, hoping to see Allison. Someone needed to save him before the pixie asked about his feelings for her sister. He couldn’t answer that for himself, let alone anyone else. No sign of Allison. Seth sighed and asked, “What are you, the gatekeeper? Does your mom even know I’m here?”
“Yes, actually, I am the gatekeeper. And no, I haven’t informed my mother of your arrival.” Jocelyn spread her arms wide and flattened her palms against the doorframe, physically barricading his entry. “But I might let you in to talk to her if I like what you have to say.”
What was it with the Carmichael women holding him hostage on their front porches? He forced himself to stand tall and schooled his features. “What do you want to know?”
“Why are you so set on marrying my sister?”
Go with the emotional or the practical? Thinking fast, he chose the practical. “Whenever possible, I believe a child deserves a two-parent household. To me, that means marriage.”
She made a choking sound. “Oh, come on, Seth. You’re really taking that antiquated stance? I expected more.”
“Wanting to give my child a normal family life isn’t antiquated,” he argued. Jocelyn didn’t look impressed. “Look, if I didn’t think that Rebecca and I were capable of creating a good marriage, I would consider other alternatives.”
“And your definition of a good marriage would be…?”
Sweat began to form on the back of his neck. “I’d start with mutual respect, similar goals and the ability for each party to communicate without throwing breakable objects at each other.”
Jocelyn arched an eyebrow. “And?”
“Ah…let’s see.” This girl was tough enough to lead an Army into battle. “A good sense of humor is also important. You know, the best medicine and all that.”
“Bravo, Seth.” Jocelyn brought her hands together in a few halfhearted claps. “Great answers if my parents ask that question. Geez, add in a bit about love and romance and taking care of Rebecca and even my father will adore you. But right now, it’s just you and me.”
“I gave you a truthful response.” Damn if he didn’t feel like he was talking to his commander. What did she want to hear that he hadn’t said? “Compromise!” he nearly shouted. “Obviously, a good marriage takes a fair amount of compromise.”
“Hmm. Yes.” Jocelyn leaned forward and slugged him on his bicep as if they were buddies sharing war stories over a beer. “What about toe-curling sex? I don’t know. I’d think hot, crazy, mind-blowing sex would be a vital ingredient in a strong marriage.”
Red, itchy heat crawled up Seth’s neck. He yanked at his suddenly too-tight collar to relieve the discomfort. “It…ah…wouldn’t be a detriment.”
The corners of Jocelyn’s lips twitched. “So I can safely assume that you and my sister—”
“That’s all I’m saying on that topic, kid.”
“Chicken?”
“You bet.” Especially when it came to discussing sex with Rebecca’s baby sister. “You’re very scary for a pixie. Anyone ever tell you that before?”
“Constantly. Speaking my mind tends to rattle people into blurting out unseemly bits of fun information. Which is why I do it.” She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “You hold your own better than most.”
“Does that mean I can come in?”
“Well…you and Rebecca are having a baby together.”
“We are.”
Jocelyn wrinkled her nose. “And I suppose Rebecca could do worse.”
An Officer, a Baby and a Bride Page 5
