The Non-Commissioned Baby

by Maureen Child

  “I’m cooking for me,” she explained. “There’s simply enough for you, too.”

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Soup, then.” She walked to another cabinet, opened it and stared up at the rows of cans. “Chicken noodle okay?”

  “I don’t care,” he answered impatiently.

  She grabbed one can and opened a drawer, rummaging for a can opener.

  “Laura,” he said.

  She didn’t even turn around. Just started in on that can of soup as though it were the most important thing in the world.

  “Laura, we should talk about last night,” he said, still waiting for a response.

  “Would you hand me that pan?” she asked.

  Grumbling under his breath, he stalked across the small kitchen, grabbed the pan and handed it to her across the table.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “About last night...”

  “I think it’s better if we just pretend last night didn’t happen,” she said, dumping the condensed soup into the pan. Stepping over to the sink, she filled the can with water, and went back to the stove. As she stirred the mess together, she continued, “It was an accident. Something I’m sure we both regret. Let’s go past it, shall we?”

  “Go past it.” He stared at the back of her head, wishing he could see her expression. Look into her eyes.

  “I think that would be best.”

  “Oh, well...” He nodded sharply, though she couldn’t see him, either. He’d wanted to have a reasonable discussion. He’d wanted to have a chance to explain to her that just because the sex had been incredible, it didn’t necessarily follow that there would be a relationship between them.

  Damn it, he had wanted to be the calm, reasonable one.

  Briefly, he wondered why he was so upset. Wasn’t this just what he’d wanted? Hadn’t everything worked out fine?

  All day, he’d wondered and worried about a conversation that she had just initiated and ended in about five sentences.

  A flicker of anger sparked into life inside him. Who the hell did she think she was, deciding something this important for both of them? The fact that he had been going to do the same thing was irrelevant.

  “And what if you’re pregnant?” he forced himself to ask. “Do we just go past that, too?”

  She went completely still. “We’ll worry about that if we have to.”

  “You can’t avoid looking at me forever,” he snapped.

  Slowly, she turned around to face him. Color stained her cheeks. Her eyes glittered with an emotion he couldn’t identify, and her spine was so stiff, she looked as though she might snap in two.

  “Happy now?” she asked.

  “Delirious.” He wasn’t sure how to reach her. She seemed more remote now than she had the day she arrived. “Damn it, where is the woman I was with yesterday?” he demanded.

  If anything, the splotch of color on her cheeks deepened. “She’s gone,” Laura said. “Let her go.”

  “Not yet,” he countered grimly. Why was he fighting this? Why was he poking and prodding for a response even though it would be easier for him if she maintained this unbreachable wall around her?

  He didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted to see the other Laura again. The Laura who had demanded his passion and given her own.

  Coming around the table in a couple of quick steps, he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her close. She tipped her head back to stare up at him. Jeff tried to read the emotions swirling around in her chocolate brown eyes, but they shifted and changed too quickly to be identified.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he admitted, his gaze moving over her features like a dying man looking for signs of heaven. “I couldn’t even work. I kept seeing your face, hearing your voice.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said tightly, letting her gaze slide to one side.

  He shook her gently. “I don’t want an apology,” he told her. “I want...”

  “What?” she snapped, suddenly breaking free of his grip and taking a step away from him. “What do you want?” she repeated. Her voice sounded hollow. Empty.

  He looked down at his hands, then let them fall to his sides. Lifting his gaze back to her, he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know I don’t want you pretending last night didn’t happen. It did, damn it.” He reached up and pushed both hands along the sides of his head. “Ignoring it or brushing it under the rug doesn’t change anything.”

  She blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  His reaction didn’t even make sense to him. But they had shared something incredible the night before. Something that had touched him more deeply than anything ever had, and he would be damned if he’d let her pretend otherwise.

  “Laura,” he said, more softly this time, “I know neither one of us wanted it to happen...”

  She shook her head and bit down on her bottom lip.

  “But it did,” he went on, determined to reach her. “And I think you felt the same magic I did.”

  “Magic?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, taking a cautious step toward her.

  “It wasn’t magic, Jeff,” she corrected, backing away again. “It was lust, pure and simple.”

  “Lust?” It had been a while since he’d had that word applied to him. The last time, he thought, was when he was sixteen and the father of his prom date had “escorted” him to his car.

  “Don’t misunderstand,” she added while he was still testing the sound of that word in his mind. “I enjoyed it.”

  He already knew she’d enjoyed it.

  “But it can’t happen again.”

  He’d been telling himself the same thing all day. Strange that hearing her say it sounded so much more final.

  “Laura—”

  “I’m not hungry after all,” she said thickly. “You can have the soup.” Then she turned and scuttled off to her bedroom.

  Alone, he didn’t move from that spot until he heard the chicken-noodle soup boiling over on the stove.

  Eight

  Three days later, Laura was hurrying down the short, carpeted hallway toward the apartment. Nearly five o’clock, she thought with a hasty glance at her wristwatch.

  Her grip on the stroller handle tightened. She shouldn’t have stayed so late at the park. But Miranda had been having so much fun on the baby swings, Laura hadn’t had the heart to drag her away from them.

  Now, she ran the risk of running into Jeff.

  For the past few days, Peggy’s idea of keeping the baby away from him had been working fine. By the time he came home from work, Miranda had eaten her dinner and was tucked into bed. In the mornings, the baby had her bath after he had left for the base.

  The beauty of Peggy’s plan was that now, on the few occasions Laura had spoken with Jeff, he didn’t want to talk about their night of lovemaking. Instead, he was peppering her with questions about Miranda. Was she still teething? Did she eat the vegetables she hated so much?

  He’d even come home early the night before, trying to catch Miranda still awake. He hadn’t succeeded, but Laura was expecting him even earlier tonight.

  Halfway down the hall. She hurried her steps a bit, determined to get the baby fed and down for the night before Jeff arrived.

  A door on the left opened, and Agnes Butler stepped out of her apartment. Not now, Laura thought. She just didn’t have time to listen to another tirade on the dangers of living with Jeff Ryan. Besides being in a hurry, there was that old adage...locking the barn door after the horse was already out and frolicking in the corral.

  The older woman, one hand behind her back, scowled at Laura briefly, then bent down to look at the baby. For the past week, Mrs. Butler had managed to catch Miranda and Laura every time they left the apartment. Maybe there was something to Jeff’s notion about being spied on.

  “Hello, sweet pea,” the older woman crooned, and Miranda kicked her feet excitedly against the stroller. “L
ook what Agnes has for you.” Pulling her hand from behind her back, she offered the baby a pastel pink, crocheted, stuffed bunny rabbit.

  Miranda babbled incoherently, then grabbed at the toy, immediately stuffing one of the long ears into her mouth.

  Stunned by the gesture, Laura stared at the happy baby for a long moment before turning to study the suddenly surprising woman beside her.

  The heavily lined features were softened as she watched the baby, and there was definitely a glint of some undisguised, warm emotion shining in her eyes.

  “Agnes Butler,” she said thoughtfully, “you’re a fraud.”

  The old woman shot her a sly glance from the corner of her eye. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  Laura smiled and shook her head. “Yes, you do,” she countered, a chuckle in her voice. “You’ve got Jeff fooled, you know.”

  Twin snow-white eyebrows lowered over those sharp blue eyes.

  “Me too, until now.” Impulsively, she reached out and squeezed the other woman’s hand gently, noticing the fragile, papery feel of her skin. “You snap and snarl at everybody, then spend days making something like this for a baby you hardly know.” She shook her head again. “You know what you are, Agnes?” she asked. “Kind.”

  “Kind.” Agnes waved one hand, dismissing the notion entirely. “Nothing kind about it. Feels good to have somebody to do it for. Selfish, really.”

  “If that’s what you call selfish, I can’t wait to see your definition of generous.”

  Agnes sniffed, snatched her hand away and rubbed at the tip of her nose. “You’re a nice girl,” she said, looking Laura up and down. “And I got to say you’re quite the improvement over the sort of females he used to bring around here.”

  Unwillingly, Laura felt a twinge stab at her heart. Which didn’t make the least bit of sense. When you’re in lust with a person, you don’t feel jealousy and envy. For heaven’s sake, lust isn’t love.

  “What kind of women?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “Oh, the high-strung type,” Agnes said, tipping her nose up with the tip of a finger. “Raw-boned skinny, tight smiles, silk dresses.”

  Suddenly depressed, Laura glanced down at her own stunning ensemble and grimaced helplessly. A damp, sand-splattered white T-shirt, baggy gray sweat shorts and tennis shoes. And no one would ever call her skinny.

  “But haven’t seen one of ’em for months,” Agnes was saying.

  “Months?” Why did that news feel like a bright ray of hope?

  “Yeah. Here lately, at least till you came along, keeping my eye on him was about as interestin’ as watchin’ grass grow.”

  “I’ll try to do better from now on.” A deep voice sounded out from right behind Laura.

  Blast it, she’d known he would be home early today. Instead of turning around to face him, Laura watched Agnes Butler’s relaxed, almost friendly features tighten up into a familiar, disapproving mask.

  “Anybody ever tell you it’s rude to listen in on conversations?” the older woman snapped.

  “Not a soul, ma’am,” he responded.

  “I thought not,” she countered.

  Laura swiveled her head to look at him as he stepped up beside her. His lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile as he bantered with Agnes.

  “You could teach me manners,” Jeff offered.

  “I should live as long as that would take,” the older woman retorted, then snorted, already turning into her apartment.

  “You’ll live forever,” he assured her.

  Agnes stopped. Cocking her head, she glared at him suspiciously over her shoulder. “How do you know?”

  He grinned. “Only the good die young.”

  Agnes sputtered, but Laura noted the spark of humor in her eyes.

  “Rude, I tell you. Just plain rude.” With that, the old woman closed her door and systematically turned all four locks.

  Still surprised by the exchange, Laura stared at the closed door for a long moment of silence before turning to look at Jeff. “She likes you, doesn’t she?”

  “Like is pretty strong,” he said, hunkering down to smile at the baby. “Doesn’t hate is probably closer to the truth.”

  After ruffling Miranda’s hair, Jeff stood up and looked at the woman who continued to haunt his dreams.

  “You’re home early,” she said.

  “I have to be these days,” he told her. “If I want to catch a glimpse of you or Miranda.” Her gaze shifted away from his, but not before he saw a gleam of guilt flash across her brown eyes. “I don’t know what you’re up to lately, but do you realize that I haven’t even seen Miranda in days?”

  Laura pushed the stroller toward the apartment. “Isn’t that the way you wanted it?”

  “Wanted what?” he asked as he followed her.

  “You didn’t want to be bothered by the baby.” She dug in her pocket for her set of keys. “I’m seeing to it that you’re not.”

  “Who put you in charge of making Miranda invisible?” Jeff nudged her to one side, unlocked the front door, then opened it, stepping back so she and the stroller could precede him inside.

  “You did,” she said softly.

  “Bull,” he countered. “I never said I wanted her hidden away in an attic.”

  “You don’t have an attic.” Laura shot him a quick look. “But you did say that you never wanted kids. That if you had known Hank was going to make you guardian, you would have stopped him.”

  “That’s different. That’s how I felt before.”

  “What’s changed?”

  He didn’t answer. Hell, he wasn’t sure how to answer.

  Shooting a quick glance at the baby, he felt something inside him turn over. She looked as though she’d grown in the past few days. Stupid, he thought Of course she hadn’t grown in a couple of days.

  But seeing her felt good. Better than he had thought it would.

  It had been a hard thing for him to admit to himself—that he actually missed Miranda. And he didn’t think he was up to the challenge of admitting that fact to Laura. Not yet.

  Quietly, he closed the front door behind him, automatically turning the door lock.

  “What about you?” he asked, watching her.

  “What about me?” She bent down to scoop up the baby.

  “You’ve been keeping out of sight, too.”

  “I’ve been with the baby,” she replied.

  A quick answer. Too quick.

  “It’s more than that,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding me. Deliberately.”

  She glanced at him covertly, then concentrated on smoothing Miranda’s flyaway wisps of hair. “Shouldn’t I be?”

  “I never said I didn’t want a nanny in my life,” he stated quietly.

  She stilled. A tenuous thread of awareness leaped up between them, practically vibrating in its growing intensity.

  “I’m not in your life,” she told him, moving for her bedroom with quick, determined strides.

  Every step she took hammered at him. It was as if she were walking out of his apartment, distancing herself from him. Jeff couldn’t stand the thought of it.

  He caught up with her before she could open the door and disappear again. She held Miranda close to her chest, one hand beneath her little bottom, the other splayed protectively across her back.

  “You’re here, Laura,” he said, curling his hands into fists to keep from touching her. “In my home. In my life.” The words In my heart hovered on his tongue, but he closed his mouth on them.

  “Temporarily.”

  “Now,” he corrected.

  “Don’t do this,” Laura pleaded, her voice breaking slightly.

  “Do what?” he asked. “Tell you I’ve missed you? That I dream of you every night and think of you all day?”

  She gasped, held the breath trapped in her lungs for a long minute, then released it on a sigh.

  “I can’t keep my mind on the job,” he told her, realizing even as he said
it that that was a gross understatement. Hell, the way he’d been feeling lately, the base could have been invaded and he would hardly have noticed.

  “Instead,” he continued, “all I see is a pair of soft brown eyes—” he reached up and slowly touched the pad of his thumb to her lips “—a completely kissable mouth—” he let his gaze drop to her sand-covered shorts “—and lace-covered skin.”

  She shivered and he wanted to shout. He knew that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He felt it in her. He sensed the heat already building between them.

  “Jeff,” she said, taking a hasty half step backward, clutching the baby tightly to her. “I...” Clearly, she was reaching for something to say. Something to put him at bay and keep him there. He had no intention of helping her.

  She sucked in a deep gulp of air, making a deliberate attempt to steady herself. “You’ll have to excuse me,” she said stiffly, “I have to bathe the baby and feed her and...”

  “I’ll do it tonight,” he said, already reaching for the baby, who leaned toward him eagerly.

  Odd that he should be so willing to take on a task that he had resented in the beginning of his forced fatherhood.

  The past few days, he had almost been able to believe that he was again alone in his apartment. He’d had time to himself. Quiet. Uninterrupted peace.

  That should have made him happy. Lord knew in the first few days after Miranda’s arrival, all he’d done was silently complain about his lost privacy and the burden of responsibility he’d been handed. Now, though, after just a taste of what his life had been like before the baby, he realized that he didn’t like it one damn bit.

  In fact, he wouldn’t have believed this possible a month ago, but he actually missed being a part of something more than just his own life. He missed seeing Miranda and had caught himself wondering about her at odd times of the day. He’d become accustomed to the baby’s presence in his life, and her absence had left a void he had never expected to feel.

  Miranda’s smile made him feel as though he could conquer the world, and her tears broke his heart.

  Strangely enough, in a few short weeks, he seemed to have become somebody’s daddy.