“I think she’s here,” he said into the phone. “Call me later.”
He punched the disconnect button and set the phone down on a small table near the door.
“Are you Laura?” he asked, his blue-eyed gaze sweeping up and down her body in a flat second.
Instinctively, she stiffened, forgetting all about that instant, momentary bolt of attraction. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin slightly. She had to do that anyway, to look him in the eye, but she hoped that the action looked defiant to him. Laura knew exactly what he was seeing when he stared at her.
A thirty-year-old woman, no makeup, wide brown eyes, dust brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore comfortable penny loafers, baggy jeans and an oversize sweatshirt that proclaimed Ain’t Life Grand? across the front.
Not very impressive, maybe. And as his neighbor had pointed out, probably not his type at all. But at least she could take care of a baby without looking as though she’d waded bare-handed through a war zone.
“Yes,” she answered stiffly, giving him the same slow once-over that he had given her. “Jeff Ryan?”
He nodded abruptly, stepped past her into the hall and grabbed up her suitcases. Dropping them next to the wall, he closed the front door, then faced her.
“Where the heck have you been?” he demanded. “I expected you a half an hour ago.”
She winced against the blare of the TV combining with the baby’s cries. Pitching her voice a bit louder than normal, she snapped, “The plane was delayed.”
Before he could comment on that, Laura sailed past Jeff Ryan into the unbelievably messy apartment. She paused long enough to turn off the TV, then followed the baby’s screams to a basket set on the floor. Inside that straw-colored wicker bed, the infant lay on a handmade quilt, its chubby arms and legs pumping madly against the air.
Laura’s heart melted.
Forgetting all about the man coming up behind her, she bent down, scooped up the baby and cradled it close to her chest. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she murmured as she rocked slowly back and forth, her right hand smoothing up and down the baby’s back. “You’re all right now. Laura’s got you.”
The screaming stopped.
The baby relaxed against her, its tiny body trembling as it sniffed and hiccuped.
“That’s amazing,” Jeff said softly, clearly afraid to break whatever spell Laura had woven around the child.
“Not really,” she said, sparing him a quick sidelong look. “A little comfort goes a long way.”
He pushed one hand through the little bit of hair allowed by military regulations and shook his head as he looked over the wreckage of his living room.
“I could use a little comfort myself,” he admitted. “She hasn’t been that quiet all day.”
A girl.
“What’s her name?”
“According to the papers, it’s Miranda. Miranda Powell.”
“Well, hello, Miranda Powell,” Laura whispered. She kissed the little head that was nestled just beneath her chin.
The baby’s fingers tugged at the material of her sweatshirt, but Laura felt the small pulls all the way to her heart.
Jeff collapsed onto the cluttered sofa, then winced, lifted one hip and reached beneath him to pull a halfempty baby bottle out of his way. Tossing it onto the floor with a fatalistic shrug, he turned his gaze back to Laura. “You’re not what I expected,” he said.
She was rarely what anyone expected and had long ago ceased to care. But she was already in love with this baby. Laura wanted the job enough to remain pleasant as she asked, “Really, why?”
He shrugged, his gaze running over her carelessly. “Peg said you’re a teacher, but you look like a kid yourself.”
Translation, she thought, short. It was hardly her fault that there were no tall genes in her family. “I’m thirty years old and a kindergarten teacher,” she told him. “I have references if you’d like proof.”
He held up one hand and shook his head. “Peggy’s word is good enough for me. Besides—” he waved one hand to encompass the destruction around him “—as you can see, I’m in no position to quibble. I need help with her until I can figure out what to do about her.”
One light brown eyebrow lifted. Laura felt it go up and tried to stop it, but she couldn’t. What was there to figure out? she wanted to ask. There was only one thing to do with a baby.
Love it.
He must have read her expression because one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. She didn’t want to notice what exceptional things even a hint of a smile did to his already handsome features. But she did.
“So,” he asked, “you still want the job?”
She shouldn’t. That sizzle of awareness she had experienced the second she laid eyes on him was not a good sign. But Laura couldn’t have said no even if she wanted to. Not with Miranda’s warm little body cuddled so closely.
“Yes.”
“You understand that it may be for the entire summer?” he asked. “I mean, if I can handle everything right, the baby shouldn’t be here more than a month or so. But you never know.”
Any interest Laura might have had in him dissolved at his obvious haste to rid himself of the baby. Which was just as well anyway. She had already had her shot at love—and she’d lost. Besides, she could never be attracted to a man who so obviously didn’t like children. Still, she wondered, what kind of man could turn his back on something so tiny? So defenseless?
“I understand perfectly,” she said, and watched him give a satisfied nod.
“Good.” He pushed himself up from the couch. “We can talk about salary tonight, if that’s all right with you. My rules are simple. You take care of the baby. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she said.
He gave her a quick nod and started past her toward one of the closed doors on the other side of the room. He stopped dead in his tracks, though, when she said, “Hold on a minute, Captain. Now it’s time for you to hear my rules.”
Two
Jeff turned around slowly to face her.
All he really wanted was a shower, a nap and a change of clothes. Marine Corps boot camp hadn’t been as rough on him as that one small baby girl had been. And yet, he thought as he looked into a pair of suddenly remote brown eyes, he had a feeling that his troubles were just beginning.
“Your rules?” he asked, determined to keep the upper hand in whatever argument was beginning to erupt. “Since when do employees make the rules?”
“Since now,” she declared firmly.
Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. He should have known it wouldn’t be easy. Any friend of his sister’s was bound to be stubborn and independent as hell. He stared into those soft brown eyes of hers again and felt a stirring deep within him. Despite the fact that she was dressed like a refugee from the Goodwill, Jeff found himself wondering what her legs looked like when they weren’t being hidden by seemingly miles of denim fabric.
Why would she dress like such a frump? What was she hiding from?
And why did he care?
He didn’t, Jeff told himself. He couldn’t afford to feel the sense of awareness already creeping through him. Laura Morgan was going to be living in his house, taking care of that baby. He wasn’t about to mess that up by allowing his hormones to do his thinking for him.
Still, he told himself, he must be lonelier than he had thought, to be intrigued by a tiny woman dressed in clothes two sizes too big for her.
The look in her eyes as he continued to stare at her only grew frostier. So much for her sweatshirt, he smirked inwardly. He’d be willing to bet that she hadn’t found anything “grand” about life in years.
But, since the baby was cooing contentedly, he was willing to put up with the poor man’s Mary Poppins. As for his hormones—apparently, he needed to spend some time with one or two lady friends. That should take care of any bizarre interest in Laura Morgan.
“Okay,” he said at last, folding his arms across his chest and
completely ignoring the sticky substances on his T-shirt. “What are these rules?”
She nodded. “I’ll stay here and take care of the baby for the summer, but...”
“Yeah?”
She inhaled sharply and tried to draw herself up to a formidable height. He could have told her it was a futile attempt. She couldn’t be more than five foot one. And that was no one’s idea of intimidating.
“You’re not hiring me to be your housekeeper.” She paused for a look around at the mess his apartment had become. “Or,” she added, “your cook and laundress.”
Insulted, Jeff tried to defend himself. “Look, until this morning, everything was under control—”
“Also,” she said, cutting him off neatly, “there will be no walking around naked, no women strolling in and out of the apartment—”
“What are you—?”
“One of your neighbors thought it prudent to warn me about the fact that you’re what she calls a ‘ladies’ man.’”
He shook his head and gave a resigned sigh. “Let me guess. White hair, big blue eyes?”
She nodded, but he thought he saw the ghost of a smile twitching at her lips.
“Agnes Butler,” he said, the elderly woman’s features forming in his mind. “For lack of anything better to do, she spies on me.”
Twin brown eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “Spying? Sounds a little paranoid.”
Briefly, he recalled all the times he had strolled down that short hallway and spotted his neighbor, her eye glued to a partially opened door. Yeah, spying was the right word.
“You’re not paranoid,” he told her, “if they really are after you.”
A moment or two of silence passed. At last, she nodded and said, “Yes, well, the rest of the rules are pretty simple.”
“There’s more?” he asked.
She smiled. “No foul language—”
“Now, just a minute—” he said, trying to interrupt, but she was on a roll.
“No talking before coffee in the morning, and no loud TV or radio after eleven at night.”
Jeff stared at her. Was she finished? Or just pausing for breath? A few seconds ticked by, and he told himself that apparently, she’d reached the end of her demands. Well, fine. Now it was his turn.
He would tell her just what she could do with her rules. This was his house after all. Where did she get off telling him when he could or couldn’t watch his TV? And what about women? So he didn’t exactly have a parade of females trooping in and out of his apartment every day and night. If he wanted to, he wasn’t going to be stopped by her.
“Listen up, lady,” he started, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are...”
She froze, stiffening for a fight.
Miranda sniffled, shifting against a suddenly tense body.
Recognizing the signs of baby distress already, Jeff lowered his voice and spoke in a quiet, reasonable tone. “You can’t order me around. I’m the employer here, you know.”
“I can tell you what I expect,” Laura countered, her voice matching his. “And if you don’t like it, you can find someone else.”
He didn’t believe the threat. Even as she said it, her arms were tightening around the baby as if afraid that he would try to take Miranda from her forcibly.
No worries there.
But with the position he was in, he couldn’t afford to take the risk. If she left, he’d be right back where he started that morning. In deep trouble, begging Peggy for help.
All right, he could swallow a little bit of pride for the sake of his sanity. And he could even learn to deal with her ridiculous rules. Anything to keep her here and the baby quiet. After all, it wasn’t forever. Just for the summer. By the end of three months, he would either have found a suitable replacement guardian for the baby or, God help him, a permanent nanny to help him raise Hank Powell’s kid.
Abruptly, he said, “Fine. Agreed.”
“Thank you.” She accepted his defeat gracefully. “But as long as we’re discussing this situation, I should like to add one more rule to my list.”
He snorted disbelievingly. “What’s left?”
“I’d like to state clearly right from the first,” she said, “that I am not interested in you romantically, so I would appreciate it very much if you would keep your distance.”
Jeff laughed, the first good laugh he’d had all morning. Pointedly running his gaze over her slowly, he shook his head and said, “No problem.”
Once Jeff was out of the shower—and Laura had even resorted to turning on the TV so she wouldn’t have to listen to the spray of water and imagine it pummeling his naked, no doubt gorgeous body—they set things to rights.
The living room was a disaster.
With a fed and changed Miranda watching happily from her wicker basket, Laura and Jeff worked together to rebuild the place. So much for her rule about not being a housekeeper. As most of the clutter was cleared away, she noticed that the apartment wasn’t exactly homey. In fact, it was surprisingly impersonal.
A sprinkling of framed photos and commendations hung on the beige walls, but there were no paintings. Tweed fabric covered the couch and two chairs that sat on the tan wall-to-wall carpeting. There was an impressive stereo system and a large-screen TV on one wall, and a fireplace that looked as though it had never been used stood on the opposite wall. A two-person table sat at the end of the kitchen, and there were two bedrooms, one on either side of the single bathroom.
She tried not to think about having to share that bathroom with Jeff Ryan for the next three months. Luckily for her, she no longer noticed things like just how good-looking Jeff Ryan was. If she had been the slightest bit interested in finding a man, these next few months could have been torture.
Of course, she had thought she was past noticing the fresh, clean scent of a man’s aftershave, too.
“So,” he said, and snapped her attention to him. He folded up yet another brown paper grocery bag as he asked, “How come a kindergarten teacher didn’t already have a summer job nailed down?”
She stacked the last can of formula in what had been an empty cabinet, then closed the door and straightened up. “I did,” she admitted. “This one sounded like more fun.”
He snorted a laugh. “More fun than what?”
“Transferring card catalogs to computer in the local library.”
He whistled low and long. “You’re right, not fun.” He glanced at the baby a few feet away. “But this is?”
“Sure.”
“Lady, you’ve got a strange sense of fun.”
Peggy had told Laura that Jeff not only had no experience taking care of children, but also that he didn’t even like them.
She frowned at him. “Your sister has three kids. Don’t you remember how cute they were when they were little?”
He shrugged and bent down to neatly place the folded bags in the appropriate rack just inside the pantry door. “I remember they cried. A lot,” he said as he stood up again and closed the door. “They smelled bad and they couldn’t even talk to tell you why they cried all the time.”
“No wonder you never visit Peggy and her family.”
He looked at her. “Is that what she said?”
Was he offended? How could he be? “It’s true, isn’t it? You see them about once a year?”
“Yeah, it’s true.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned one hip against the blond wood countertop. “She tell you why?”
“She said you’re uncomfortable around kids.” Laura didn’t tell him the rest. Did he really need to know that his own sister, though she loved him, thought he was too self-involved to be concerned about family?
“That’s part of it,” he admitted, letting his gaze slide from Laura to the baby, now chewing contentedly on her own fist. “But mostly it’s because I can’t even talk to Peggy and her husband anymore.”
“Why not?” Laura asked. Peggy and Jim Cummings were two of the nicest people she’d ever known. Was t
he woman’s own brother too dense to see that?
He shook his head and smiled without humor. “Before they had those kids, Peggy and Jim and I had some good times. Skiing, sailing, took a few trips together.”
“And?” she prodded, interested now.
“And, the minute the first kid was born, it was all over.” He pushed away from the counter, walked across the utilitarian kitchen and stood, staring down at the baby in the basket. “They became parents in the worst possible sense. All they talked about was Thomas. His teeth. His upset stomach. His first steps. The first time he used a spoon by himself, you would have thought he was Einstein reincarnated.”
Laura smiled to herself as she stared at Jeff’s broad back. His sister was still like that Just a few weeks ago, Peggy had called to crow over Tina winning the second-grade spelling bee.
Like any other good parent would.
“But that’s perfectly natural,” Laura said, and walked to stand beside him. Looking down at Miranda, she smiled. “They’re proud of their children.”
“They’re boring,” he countered, swiveling his head to stare at her. “They used to have plans. Ambitions. Now those ambitions are all for the kids.”
An emotion she couldn’t quite identify flickered in his pale blue eyes briefly, then disappeared. “All parents want good things for their kids,” she said quietly.
“Sure,” he countered. “But do they have to stop being people themselves to be good parents?”
“Peggy and Jim are terrific people,” she argued, defending her friends.
He shook his head as he looked at her. Once again, Laura felt a flutter of awareness dance through her bloodstream. Deliberately, she squashed it.
“Is it so wrong to have ambitions and dreams for your kids?” she asked, determined to keep this conversation going, if only to keep her mind too busy to daydream.
He thought about her question for a long minute, then shrugged. “Not for Peggy and Jim,” he said, shifting his gaze back to the baby, now intently staring up at the two adults. “But that’s not me,” he continued. “I have plans for my career. Plans I’ve worked toward long and hard.”
The Non-Commissioned Baby Page 2
