The Non-Commissioned Baby

“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.”

“Everybody makes plans,” she said.

It was as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I’m going to be the youngest general in the corps,” he stated. Then he glanced at the wicker basket. “And I’m not going to let anything stop me.”

Three

A nightmare.

In less than twelve hours, his life had become a waking nightmare.

Jeff stumbled across the living room, stepped on a fallen pacifier and grunted as the dull yet stabbing pain lanced from his arch straight up his leg.

“Are you all right?” Laura asked, her voice high enough to carry over the baby’s wailing.

“Dandy,” he muttered, then flopped down beside her on the couch. Instantly, he lifted one hip and pulled a leaking baby bottle from under his butt. “How can one kid need so much stuff?” he grumbled to no one in particular as he slammed the plastic bottle down onto the coffee table.

Laura had only one lamp on, and in the dim light, he surveyed what had, only that morning, been his sanctuary.

Blankets, clean diapers, bottles, pacifiers, lotion, powder—there was enough junk in the already small room to satisfy a battalion of babies. So why wasn’t the only baby present happy?

“Why is she screaming like that?” he demanded.

“I think she’s teething,” Laura said, and hitched Miranda higher on her shoulder.

“Perfect,” he said. “How long does that last?”

In the soft light, Laura smirked at him. “According to my watch, she should be finished in another three and a half minutes.”

His eyebrows lifted. He knew sarcasm when he heard it, and if he wasn’t so damn tired, he might have taken a shot himself. As it was, his heart just wasn’t in it.

Laura whispered to the baby while stroking the infant’s back in long, gentle motions. Jeff watched her, at first for lack of anything else to do, but after a moment, because he couldn’t seem to look away.

And he also couldn’t figure out why. That nightgown of hers certainly wasn’t alluring. An oversized T-shirt emblazoned Life Is A Trip, Don’t Miss It hung to midthigh. Although, he thought, the surprisingly shapely legs revealed by that shirt were not bad at all. As he watched, she shifted slightly, tugging the hem down fruitlessly.

Her thick brown hair lay loose on her shoulders, and he had to admit that the casual style complemented her features far better than the scraped-back ponytail she’d worn earlier. Her high cheekbones were more sharply defined in the soft light. Light brown eyebrows arched high over eyes that looked as deep and mysterious as a moonless night. Her generous mouth was curved in a half smile even as the baby in her arms flailed tiny fists against her face. Laura merely caught one of those fists, opened it and kissed the small, chubby palm.

His jaw tightened, and something inside him twisted. A curl of desire trickled through him, and he deliberately squashed it. Shifting position on the sofa, he wished he had taken the time to grab his robe before leaving his room. Wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, Jeff felt suddenly, decidedly uncomfortable.

He was staring.

In the shadowy light, Laura saw his pale blue eyes darken as he watched her. Her gaze slid away, unfortunately dropping to his bare, muscular chest. Her heart beat faster, and her palms were damp. Breath after breath straggled into her lungs even as she told herself that she was probably just too warm in the overheated apartment.

All she needed was to turn the heater down.

This had nothing to do with how attractive he was. After all, she didn’t even notice things like that anymore.

Laura’s gaze flicked to his again, then quickly away. Her stomach fluttered and twitched. Why was he looking at her so strangely? She wasn’t exactly a supermodel, so what did he find so fascinating that he couldn’t stop watching her?

Miranda sucked in a gulp of air, coughed, choked, then cried again, pumping her little legs against Laura’s chest. Immediately Laura dismissed Jeff Ryan and the strange things he did to her stomach and concentrated on the baby.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she soothed in a low, humming tone.

“No, it’s not,” Jeff said, his voice grumpy. “Is she ever going to shut up so I can get some sleep tonight?”

Laura frowned at him, furious at his impatience. Carefully, she shifted the baby to her lap and began to rock slowly. “Well, now that you’ve told her that she’s disturbing you, I’m sure she’ll settle right down,” Laura snapped. “After all, how can the throbbing pain of new, sharp teeth slicing through her gums compare with your being tired?”

He scowled at her and sat forward, leaning his forearms on his thighs. “You know—” he started to say.

“Yes, I do,” she cut him off neatly. “I know that you don’t give a—” she broke off, searched for a word, then continued “—hoot about this baby. All you care about is yourself.”

“Up until eleven this morning,” he reminded her, “that’s all I had to worry about.”

“Well, things’ve changed.”

“Tell me about it.” He waved one hand at her and the baby. “In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve inherited a baby and a snotty nanny.”

“Snotty?”

“Snotty,” he repeated.

Bouncing the baby a little faster on her knee, Laura’s rocking motion became a bit jerky. “You are the one who needed my help,” she told him stiffly, still smarting from the “snotty” remark.

“Help,” he clarified. “Not harassment.”

“Now I’m harassing you?”