The Marine's Babies Page 3

  Brow furrowed, Emma scratched her head. “So their mom abandoned them?”

  “Yep.” Jace told her about the one-night stand. How the woman hadn’t even told him she’d been pregnant until caring for two babies on her own had made her come undone. Yes, as Emma well knew, the first few weeks on your own with a baby were tough, but in a wonderful way. What kind of mother just up and left her children? A monster. Emma, having lost her son to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, having missed him every day since, couldn’t conceive of voluntarily giving up one child, let alone two!

  Though she was bursting with questions, the only one Emma gave voice to was, “So the job would be permanent? I would stay on, even if you do find the mother?”

  “Most likely. I mean, though I’m still learning this whole parental thing, I’ve always been a quick study, and one pretty basic item is that you don’t leave your kids. I’ve got the PI on retainer, but once I do find her, I’m not sure what’s going to go down.”

  How could this Vicki not have left an address? Even if caring for the infants had been overwhelming, wouldn’t the woman at least want pictures? Reports of their growth?

  “Anyway, with me being a single dad, that’s where you come in. I’m a helicopter pilot. Work ungodly hours. Sure, I’ve always wanted kids, but to have them dropped on me with as much finesse as a stork…” He sighed. “Bottom line, I need help. Reliable help. You said earlier that these guys reminded you of someone. That mean you have experience with diapers and bottles and stuff?”

  Emma cleared her throat. “Yes. Extra emphasis on stuff.” Emotional stuff that she still didn’t fully comprehend.

  Though she hadn’t meant her comment to be funny, the Marine—Jace—laughed.

  “Have references?”

  From the white leather purse she still held slung over her shoulder, she withdrew a handwritten reference sheet, and then stood, handing it to him. “Sorry it’s not typed. I don’t have a computer.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” he said, reading over the top of the infants’ heads. “All of these are in Chicago. You’re not from around here?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all.” One of the babies he held in the crook of his arms wriggled and fussed.

  “Want me to take her?”

  “Sure.” He cast Emma a smile. “And to make things interesting, how about a wager?”

  “Like what?” Leaving her purse alongside the sofa, she took the complaining infant.

  “Like if you manage to quiet that little lady, I’ll give you the job.”

  “And if I don’t succeed?” Emma asked over increased wails.

  He winced. “Then I guess I’m back to playing Mister Mom.”

  FOR JACE, the next few minutes were entirely too long. Why had he said such a stupid thing? Betting the woman for the job? He, more than anyone, realized how desperately he needed her—even if Vicki showed up one day, he wasn’t just handing over the girls. Maybe if she proved she’d gotten therapy, or something, he might agree to partial custody, but that’s it.

  Lucky for him, before he worked up too big a worry over what might happen should Emma lose the bet, she’d already won, having rocked and cooed the girl back into an adorable, three-toothed grin.

  “How’d you do that?” Jace asked, in awe of the woman’s skill.

  “No biggee. She probably had a gas bubble. Just needed to be jiggled out.”

  “Even so, let’s make it official. Want the job?”

  “Is it mandatory that I live here?” Was he only imagining it, or was she turning up her slim nose at his modest digs? “It’s lovely, but…”

  As her words trailed off, it occurred to him how awkward it could prove having the woman move in. When he’d placed his ad, he’d anticipated a grandmotherly type sharing his digs. Someone who could not only tame a couple of babies, but make gravy and cookies and tackle the laundry. Emma was striking. Long, black hair and sun-bronzed skin. High cheekbones. Eyes clear and ocean-blue. Her flowery yellow sundress was modest, but short enough in all the right places to reveal toned arms and legs. Pink-tipped toes peeked out from white sandals.

  “I get it,” he said. “Tell you what. I’m not expecting night training for at least a couple of months. So, for now, how about you show up around sixish tomorrow morning, and we’ll go from there?”

  “You don’t need me today?” Was he misreading her, or did the sudden downturn of her lips mean she was disappointed not to be staying? She’d cuddled the baby closer, as well. As if she didn’t want to let her go.

  “Thanks, but I’ve already got leave for today, so I’m good.”

  “Um…” She nibbled her lower lip. “Tomorrow will be fine.” Without meeting his gaze, she passed off the baby to him, then grabbed her purse.

  “Do we need to talk about what I can pay you?”

  Already at the door, she said, “Whatever you can afford will be fine.”

  “Sure?”

  She nodded, then hurried outside.

  Okay, when it came to dealing with women, he’d never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but had he done or said something to tick this woman off?

  He didn’t have the opportunity to find out, as she’d already crossed the yard, climbed into a black Volvo station wagon then, without so much as a wave, sped out of his life.

  Seeing how Vicki had left much the same way, Jace was starting to get a complex.

  Emma would return in the morning, wouldn’t she?

  LEAVING her new employer’s house, Emma trembled so badly that she had to pull onto the side of the quiet road. Tears followed. Hot and messy. The kind that well up from deep inside and for her, take hours to subside fully.

  Holding the baby girl had been both exhilarating and heartbreaking. Emma had never wanted to let her go. When Jace told her she wasn’t immediately needed, it didn’t compute. The rational part of her realized her baby was gone. But that other part…

  Tightening her grip on the wheel, Emma forced a deep breath. She had to pull herself together. She had to use this opportunity to heal, to stop the slide deeper into her solitary existence. Was it wrong of her to want to prove her ex the fool she believed him to be? In blaming her for their son’s death, Rick had hurt her to her core. He’d transformed an already impossible situation into Emma’s own private hell.

  For that, she’d forever hate him.

  What she would not do was succumb to his accusations. In caring for Jace’s twins, she’d prove to herself that she’d been an amazing mother. Henry’s death had been an unexplainable mystery. Something she’d never truly understand. What she could grasp was the fact that this Marine needed her, and she needed his girls.

  Chapter Three

  “That’s the official tour,” Jace said. At six-fifteen Monday morning, after having been up most of the night trying to quiet tag-team-crying twins, he was hardly at his best. It was a good thing he was scheduled for maintenance rather than flight. “Questions?”

  Emma shook her head.

  In the makeshift nursery, she stood alongside the crib, smoothing her hand along the nearest infant’s back. Her smile was serene. Her posture relaxed. He’d had his doubts as to whether she’d even return, but she’d been five minutes early, bearing a canvas tote loaded with what she called supplies. When she hadn’t been looking, he’d sneaked a peak. Lullaby books, DVDs, plush toys and clothes.

  “Your references checked out.”

  “Oh?” As if in a trance, she didn’t look up from the crib. “That’s good.”

  “All four were surprised, though, by your choice of work. You used to be in finance?”

  She shrugged. “In another life.”

  “You’ve got a Master’s from Stanford.”

  “Your point being?”

  “Aren’t you kind of overqualified?” It wasn’t in his nature to pry, but the woman would be spending a lot of alone time with his kids. “I mean, most of the women I interviewed had only been to high school.”

  “
Is there any shame in that?” The hard look she cast over her shoulder said she didn’t appreciate getting the third degree. He didn’t care.

  “Not at all, and kindly don’t put words in my mouth. College doesn’t prove a man or woman’s worth. It’s what’s in here—” he patted his chest “—that counts.”

  “I agree.”

  Sharply exhaling, Jace glanced at the ceiling, then back to her. “Look, the last thing I want to do is argue with you, Em.”

  “My name’s Emma. I don’t think we should get too informal.”

  O-kay. “All I’m trying to say is that I found it surprising how well-educated you are. I can only afford to pay minimum wage, but you clearly deserve more.”

  “Did I complain?”

  “No, but…” What was it about him that seemed to draw impossible women like a magnet? He glanced at his watch. Twelve minutes to get to the hangar. “Never mind. Sorry I brought it up.”

  Her crossed arms and pressed lips told him she was, too. Sorry, that is, that he’d commented on her past. But hell, what had she expected?

  “Is there a number you can be reached at in case of emergency?” Her tone had softened, he noted thankfully.

  “Yeah. I put together a list of them and taped it to the fridge.” On his own, such a thing never would’ve occurred to him, but Pam had insisted.

  “Thanks. What time should I expect you home?”

  That depended. After his duty, he usually grabbed a couple of beers and shot pool with the guys. “Do I have to come straight home? With the babies and all, it’s been a while since I’ve hung with my friends.”

  “Take your time,” she said, shoulders sagging as if strangely relieved he’d be late. “Have fun. I’ve got everything under control.”

  Though Jace didn’t doubt that, he did wonder how exactly the MBA had earned her caretaking experience.

  “IS YOUR NANNY hot?” Jace’s chief maintenance officer, “Red” Murphy asked from his stool at Jar’s Bar—their favorite hangout.

  Jace—known to the guys as Leadfoot—rolled his eyes. “For the record—yeah. She’s hot. But since when do I have time for women?”

  Granola butted in with, “Looks like you had plenty of time the night your kids were conceived.”

  Jace gave his friend a slug. “Knock it off. For what I’ve been through, you all owe me a round.”

  Red snorted. “A round of baby formula.”

  “Jace, you should be home,” Pam said, swigging her beer. “You have responsibilities now.” Usually, women weren’t allowed at guys’ night, but she’d crashed. Out of respect for Granola, the guys had voted to let her stay. Although now Jace was thinking he might need to rescind his vote. “It’s not right for you to let that poor sitter work overtime just so you can be out playing. You’re being an ass.”

  “Thanks,” Jace said. “I probably do resemble that statement, but I’m still kinda in shock. Tell me, Ms. Smarty Pants, what would you do if some guy suddenly dumped two kids on your lap, announcing they were yours?”

  “Probably call Ripley’s Believe It or Not, seeing how last I checked, guys couldn’t give birth.”

  “Burn,” Red said with a jab to Jace’s ribs. “She got you there.”

  “Y’all know what I mean. Vicki has some nerve. I mean, if she’d told me about her pregnancy from day one, I’d have had a running start at this parenting thing. I hate her for that.”

  “Think she doesn’t feel a tad bitter toward you?” Pam flashed him a sarcastic smile. “You’ve got a lot of nerve having slept with her, then never so much as calling her again.”

  “I refuse to feel guilty.” Jace downed the rest of his beer. “It wasn’t like we weren’t both consenting adults. Besides, she had my number. She should’ve called. I would’ve liked to have known.”

  “Would you?” Eyebrows raised, Pam said, “Come on, really, Jace, I’m sorry if I’m coming down on you, but I can’t imagine trying to raise one kid, let alone two on my own. Vicki must’ve gone through hell. True, her leaving her twins wasn’t cool, but then neither is this holier-than-thou attitude of yours. Like you’ve done no wrong, and share no part of the end result of that wild night.” She drank more beer, and then snatched a tortilla chip from the basket in the table’s center, biting down hard. “At first, I felt sorry for you, but once I saw how cool you’ve been about the whole thing—mechanical, even—like your twins are machines to be figured out, well, I’m incensed.”

  “Yo, Granola!” Jace shouted across the table. “Mind calling off your pit bull?”

  Raising his hands in surrender, Granola returned with, “Cut me some slack. I’ve got to go home with her.”

  “Glad it’s your problem,” Jace mumbled.

  “Watch it,” Granola fired back.

  WITH THE TWINS cooing along to a Baby Einstein video, Emma had cooked dinner. Cooking had always been a favorite hobby, but working so many hours, her time in the kitchen had been limited to weekends.

  Tonight, thinking the twins were no doubt ready for solid foods, she’d made mashed potatoes and gravy to go along with oven-roasted chicken and fresh green beans. It was a good thing that she’d assumed Jace wouldn’t have thought to purchase high chairs. And bibs. And a double stroller for trips to the grocery store.

  Maybe she’d gone a little overboard, but she viewed this opportunity—however long it lasted—as a vacation from her lonely life. Just like purchasing souvenirs, she’d had to grab a few items to enhance her stay.

  “Whoa. What’s that incredible smell?”

  Emma jumped to see Jace, a baby cradled in each arm, filling the kitchen’s entry.

  “Hi,” she said shyly, dwarfed by his size in the compact space. He wore desert-camo pants, black combat boots and a beige T-shirt that hugged his shoulders and chest. Though he’d been clean-shaven that morning, already his jaw sported stubble. When he’d left, they’d been on tense terms; she hadn’t meant to be so snappy. Upon examining her feelings, it’d occurred to her just how afraid she was that he’d fire her.

  “Hi, yourself. Dang, woman, you’ve been busy.”

  She shrugged. “I thought you might be hungry when you got home. Also, while we can’t be sure what foods the babies have been introduced to, I’m thinking that if you start them on solids, they’ll sleep more soundly through the night.”

  “Sure,” he said. Babies still in the crook of each arm, he managed to open a drawer next to the stove, remove a spoon, then help himself to a heaping sample of her potatoes. Eyes closed, he groaned. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a home-cooked meal. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Why, she couldn’t say, but his appreciation warmed her to her toes. Rick hadn’t been the overly demonstrative type. A defense attorney, he was usually as formal with her at home as he was in the courtroom.

  “Well…” glancing about the kitchen, seeing that her work was done, she said, “you’re probably ready for me to go, huh?”

  “You’re not staying for dinner?”

  “I suppose I could. But I don’t want to intrude.”

  He waved off her objection. “Mind taking one of these?” Nudging alongside her with a baby, he said, “I need to wash up. Hey—when did you get those?” He nodded to the high chairs.

  “This afternoon. Hope you don’t mind.” She explained about also having the double stroller.

  “Of course I don’t mind. I just haven’t yet had time to fully gear up. Thanks. I’ll pay you back. For dinner, too.”

  Now, she was waving him off. “It’s not a problem. I found most everything on sale.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She tucked Beatrice into a high chair, and then turned to Jace, holding out her arms for Bronwyn.

  Bea started to kick and fuss. From the cabinet beside the fridge, Emma rummaged for a box of teething biscuits, giving one to each girl.

  “You’ve thought of everything,” Jace said. “Unlike me.” Head bowed, he sat hard on a kitchen table chair. “Here, I’m a Marine
. I pride myself in handling any situation, but after rumbling with a good friend of mine tonight, then listening to you, I’m feeling lost.”

  “About what?”

  “This whole fatherhood thing. I’ve got the general logistics down. My diapering is now done with precision. But I’m not sure what comes after that. You know, like the being-a-great-dad part.”

  “Give yourself a break.” Emma was careful to keep her tone soft. Encouraging. The last thing she needed was for Jace to think he wasn’t up for parenthood. “You’ve only been a dad for what? A week? It takes time. Trust me, you’ll figure it out.”

  “I’M PAYING you a freakin’ fortune,” Jace said into his cell the next afternoon. He was in between training runs, pacing a weary grass patch between flight hangers. The sun was brutal. Ninety-percent humidity sucking the life out of him. One brave—or stupid—strand of honeysuckle twined up the building’s corrugated metal siding. The sickeningly sweet smell made him want to retch. As did the memory of Pam’s condemning words. And Emma’s supportive kindness. “What do you mean there’s still no sign of Vicki? She can’t have just vanished.”

  “Sorry,” the PI said, “my wife’s eight months pregnant and home alone while I’m out on this wild goose chase. Nobody wants to find this Vicki more than me. Trouble is, the car tag you gave me from the guard gate surveillance tape turned out to be a rental. The contract was under the assumed name of Mary Smith. She showed the proper ID, meaning she had to have been planning this a while.”

  “So?” Furious didn’t begin to describe the emotions raging through Jace.

  “The fact that she had enough foresight to want to stay out of touch tells me this is going to be tougher than I’d originally thought.”

  “But she’s a college student,” Jace pointed out.

  “Where?”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” Slicing his free hand through his spiky hair, Jace lengthened his stride.