Mommy Midwife

“It sounds like you’re being too hard on yourself.”

Since he was coming clean, he might as well let her know everything. He left the table and went to his duffel. From a front pocket, he removed a case, took out a pair of silver-rimmed eyeglasses and stuck them on his nose. Wearing them was an admission of declining vision, but it was nice to be able to see the food on the plate. “Right now, I just need them for up close. My long-range vision is okay.”

“I like the glasses,” she said. “They make you look smart.”

He winced. “And it’s well-known that a high IQ strikes terror in the hearts of bad guys.”

“Is that what you want? To strike terror?”

He shook his head. “I’m still in better shape than ninety percent of the guys out there. That’s not my point. I need to be the best, the fastest, the sharpest. Otherwise, I could be putting my men in danger.”

“This must be hard for you,” she said. “Will you miss the action?”

He thought for a moment before responding. “In spite of what you might think, I’m not an adrenaline junkie. I don’t get a thrill from putting my life on the line. My proudest accomplishment as a leader is that I’ve never lost a man, not a single one in fourteen years. I’m happy to quit while I’m still ahead.”

When he looked across the table and met her gaze, he noticed a glow that he’d never seen before. Approval? She smiled gently. “What will you do now?”

“I could continue to go along with my men in a supervisory position, staying behind the lines and giving orders. Or I could opt for a training position at Camp Lejeune. I’d rather be a trainer.”

“A desk job?”

“Hell, no. I couldn’t handle that. I’ll have some time on the training courses and some in the classroom.”

As her smile grew brighter, her blue eyes glimmered. Definite approval. He felt like he’d won the lottery. Her voice was warm. “You’ll be a good teacher.”

“Why do you think so? Is it the glasses?”

“You’ve got the patience for it.” She lifted a forkful of green veggies to her mouth. “You’ve been able to put up with me for all these months. And I can be pretty stubborn.”

“Like a mule.”

“But you never gave up,” she said. “Even though I said no, you asked again and again and again and—”

“You liked it,” he interrupted. “On some level, you liked that I sent flowers for your birthday. You always thanked me.”

“Just being polite.”

He knew it was more than that, but he didn’t push. This dinner was going well. The food was good, and conversation was beginning to come more easily. She talked about what she wanted to do after the baby was born, and they discovered a common interest in rock climbing. He mentioned his interest in historical books and biographies, especially those of presidents and statesmen.

“Do you like politics?” she asked.

“It’s not the politics,” he said. “It’s the strategy that goes into decision making. What do you read?”

“Fiction, all kinds except espionage for obvious reasons. I’ve been into vampires for a while, but that’s not the best kind of book to be reading while I’m sitting with a mom in labor. It’s a little too gory.” She leaned back in her chair, rested her hands on her bulge and grinned. “This is nice.”

“We haven’t spent a lot of time like this...just talking.”

“Well, we only had two quickie dates before I showed up on your doorstep and pounced.”

Things would have been different if they’d gone through a regular courtship. He doubted the outcome would have been the same. From the first time they’d met, there had been physical chemistry, but there had also been logistical obstacles with his international assignments and her mountain lifestyle. There might have been a couple more dates, but they didn’t really have a lot in common—not until she’d pounced.

Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up. A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. “My sister.”

“Answer it.”

She talked for half a minute. Her frown deepened.

Thrusting the phone toward him, she said, “It’s my dad.”

Reluctantly, Troy took the call. His relationship with Olivia had progressed more in the past forty-five minutes than it had in eight months. They were enjoying each other’s company, growing accustomed to each other.

He was pretty sure that talking to Richard Laughton would change the situation.

Chapter Five

Olivia glared at the closed bedroom door where Troy had retreated for his conversation with her father. Apparently, he needed privacy to discuss how the two of them would handle the potential threat to her life. Heaven forbid that she be consulted.