The Marine's Babies Read online

  And truthfully, a little scary.

  She and her sister needed him, and what had he been doing? Worrying about his table-hockey score. No wonder Em had given him such a disgusted look. He just didn’t get it. But from now on…

  “I’m going to try doing better, ’kay, little one?” The words sounded honorable. But would he be able to make good on them?

  ONE WEEK LATER, Emma sat cross-legged on the living-room floor with Bea and Bronwyn on her lap. Emma held a picture book in her hands. Earlier, while the babies napped, she’d cleaned, working out her frustration with Jace on the dusty baseboards and shelves. The scent of lemony furniture polish was comforting—unlike the stale smoke typically clinging to Jace when he came home.

  Emma knew she shouldn’t care that rather than coming home straight after work, Jace usually stopped by a favorite off-base hangout. But on behalf of his daughters, she was livid. Having lost the ability to hold her own child, it was beyond her comprehension how Jace wouldn’t want to spend every available minute of his free time with his twins.

  “Aren’t they young for reading?”

  She jumped to find Jace standing not five feet away. “You scared me,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you this early.” Given the fact she’d just been thinking about him, being this near him made her uneasy. Not in a bad way. More like a hyperawareness that made her hands fidgety and her pulse race.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he said, perched on the edge of the couch.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a swift—and, she hoped, clearing—shake of her head. “Could you please repeat it?”

  “I asked aren’t the kiddos young for books?”

  “No. Studies show even newborns benefit from being read to on a regular basis.”

  “Oh.” He removed his heavy black boots.

  “Want to take over?” she asked, wagging one of the colorful pages.

  “I don’t know,” he said, forehead furrowed. “I probably wouldn’t be any good.”

  “You might surprise yourself.” Grinning, patting the empty spot on the carpet alongside her, she said, “Give it a try.”

  Groaning, he rose.

  With another groan, he lowered his considerable frame beside her. “I’m too old for this.”

  “Get used to it,” she teased. “Just wait until they start demanding piggyback rides.” How often she’d daydreamed of just such a thing. Taking Henry to the park. Rick used to be part of those dreams, but now, she preferred removing him from her imaginary pictures.

  Swallowing the knot in her throat, she handed Bea to Jace, careful to keep touching him to a minimum. “Here’s one, and here’s the other.” Before he had time to object, Jace sat with both girls on his lap, his arms around them. Though he hardly looked at ease, she’d at least give him points for trying. Passing him the book, she said, “The process is pretty straightforward from here.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  Bronwyn started to fuss.

  “Now what?” he asked, looking to Emma for help.

  “Could be any number of things. Maybe she’s hungry or needs a diaper change. She might need burping, or could be nothing more than her needing a hug.”

  “Swell,” he said, eyeing Bronwyn as if she were a creature from another planet. “From those options, what’s your best guess?”

  Shrugging, taking her purse from its usual resting spot alongside the front door, she said, “Beats me. You’ll figure it out.”

  “You’re leaving?” With more groans and a grunt, he staggered to his feet, holding the girls like footballs. “But I need you.”

  “And considering how much overtime I’ve put in lately, I need a nice, long soak in my tub. Bye.”

  Emma waited until she reached the stop sign at the end of the block to fall apart.

  Leaving Bronwyn like that, in her obviously inept father’s care, had been nearly impossible. Tougher yet, pulling off the flippant attitude. Her every instinct had screamed to calm Bronwyn, to cater to the infant’s needs. But that wouldn’t help the girl long-term.

  Jace needed on-the-job training—fast. And since Emma knew she wouldn’t be with the babies indefinitely, even more important than her primary job of giving the twins daily care was her secondary job of teaching their father how to do the same.

  “HA!” At 6:00 a.m. the next morning, Jace tossed open his front door, in the process taking a year off Emma’s life. “Leaving like you did yesterday, you thought I couldn’t handle the girls, but I did.”

  “Good for you,” she said, brushing past him. “And since you scared me to death, you’ll need to do it a lot more.”

  “Oh, now, don’t go getting grumpy. It was just a joke. I saw you pull in, and couldn’t resist. Truce?” He held out his hand for her shake.

  By habit, as she would with anyone, she met his hand, but no one else made her aware of every finger as if she’d been electrified. Freeing herself, she fidgeted with her purse. “I, um, suppose you’re ready to go.”

  “Sure.” But instead of leaving, he stood there, blocking her into the corner of the entry hall. He towered over her. She should’ve felt trapped. Instead, her stomach fluttered at his nearness. His radiant heat. Discounting her body’s traitorous reaction, she said, “If you’ll…ah…let me pass, I’ll check on the girls.”

  “Right.” The way he snapped into action, settling onto the sofa to lace his boots, made her think that during the few awkward seconds, he’d wanted to say something, but couldn’t. “Okay, well, since I’m ready, and you seem ready, I’ll leave everyone in your capable hands.”

  Standing, he walked toward the back door that led into the garage.

  “Have a nice day,” she said, and for whatever reason, followed him. Needing one last look at him to get her through the day? The thought was nonsensical, and, she realized thankfully, fleeting, as Jace had his back to her with his hand on the doorknob.

  But then he turned, flashing that smile of his with all those strong white teeth. “You have a good day, yourself, Miss Emma.”

  He winked.

  She lost the power to breathe.

  Chapter Six

  “Sorry I’m late, but it wasn’t my fault.”

  While Emma was in the midst of cooking peas to go along with the pork chops that were in the oven, Jace burst through the back door. The girls were in their high chairs, and while she’d been singing them silly lullabies, they’d been shrieking along, which must’ve been why she hadn’t heard his car pulling into the garage.

  “What’s up with you always scaring me?” she asked, hand over her heart.

  “I didn’t mean to—at least not this time.” He was back at it with his winking.

  So was her stupid stomach with its fluttering. Apparently, it hadn’t gotten the memo about her intentions to steer clear of all men. Most especially, winking ones!

  “Smells delicious in here.”

  “Thanks. I hope you enjoy it.” With the wild rice already done, she plopped a butter pat into the peas, then sprinkled in basil and a touch of sugar. “And now that dinner’s done, I’ll get going.”

  “Don’t you want to know where I’ve been? Why I was late? Because I wasn’t out chugging beer if that’s what you were thinking.”

  It had been. Her disappointment in the regression of his fathering skills was what had her so grumpy. No way could it have anything to do with her attraction to him.

  “What you do is none of my business. I just work here.”

  Rolling his eyes, he barreled on with, “I was helping my friend Fossil fix a flat. Only we couldn’t get the lug nuts off, so—”

  “Really,” she said, holding up her hands, “I don’t need to know. I trust that you haven’t been at your favorite bar. But even if you had, it’s none of my business.”

  “True,” Jace said, “which makes my compulsion to prove I wasn’t out partying all the more ridiculous. I’m not sure what you’ve done to me. You’re like some odd mix between scolding nun and sex kitten. In either
of your modes, I want to please you.”

  “S-sex kitten?”

  “Oh—I didn’t mean anything by that. Just that you’re hot. But then, no doubt that’s something you already know.”

  “Dinner’s ready,” she said, handing each of the babbling girls a teething ring.

  “You should stay and eat with us.”

  “I’m not hungry, and the girls have already eaten.” Arms tightly folded, she tried to make herself immune to his cute little smile. The one aimed right at her.

  “That’s now. What about later?” Approaching her, he droned on. “You going home to cook again? Nuke a TV dinner?”

  “Why do you care?”

  Laughing, he said, “Naturally, I want the woman caring for my children to be in top-notch health.”

  “Um-hmm.” I’m ignoring you, she sang in her head. Bea had dropped her teething ring and was now pitching a fit.

  Emma seized the opportunity to pick it up, busying herself washing it, then patting it dry.

  “See?” His voice still held a teasing tone. “What if you’d been too weak from hunger to perform that simple task? As a mom to my kids—even a temporary one—you kind of hold an important position within the family.”

  “That what we are?” she asked, returning the ring to Bea, and then slipping on oven mitts to remove the chops. The kitchen had grown uncomfortably warm. “A family?”

  “Sort of. Is that bad?”

  She cast him a dirty look.

  “Now what did I do wrong?”

  “If you don’t know, then forget it. If you want to grab a shower before dinner, it looks like you’ve got about four minutes before the rolls are done.”

  With Jace in the shower, and the girls in their high chairs, Emma released the breath she only just now realized she’d been holding.

  Why was she always so snappy around her employer? Biting off heads wasn’t her nature. But did he have to label them a family, when nothing could be further from the truth?

  Too bad for her, this was a temp gig.

  If Vicki showed up, Emma would be instantly out of a job. Moreover, with every passing day that she read to the girls and played peek-a-boo with them, washed and folded their tiny clothes, she grew perilously more attached. She hated her mother for suggesting Emma borrow a baby. Because with each minute that Emma fell more in love with her charges, her fear of losing them grew stronger.

  And then there was Jace.

  Infuriating one minute, adorable lug the next.

  Even though she’d always loved cooking, having such an appreciative audience on which to hone her skills made preparing a meal all the more enjoyable. So then why had she been upset by his notion of them being a family?

  Truthfully? Maybe because family was something she desperately craved, but feared she’d never have again. Worse, the past couple of nights that Jace had returned home, butterflies had jumped in her stomach the moment she heard his key in the door.

  “Dreaming about my rock-hard abs?”

  “What?” She snapped out of her trance just in time to catch him flexing a goofy muscle-man pose. Laughing, she almost swatted him with a dishrag, but the act would’ve been too forward. Intimate. She’d always wished she and Rick had had a more fun-loving relationship, but he hadn’t been that type, and she’d been too busy to push the issue.

  “Nothing. I was just being stupid. Guess I’ve been around my lugheaded friends too much.”

  “You’re fine,” she said, busying herself with the rolls, wishing those rock-hard abs of his weren’t quite as tempting as he’d teased. “I probably need to loosen up.”

  “You think?” He laughed. Before she could formulate an intelligent retort, he asked, “I see I need to set one more place at the table, but what else can I do to help?”

  For starters, he could head back to the other side of the room. When he was close like this, so near that if she’d wanted, she could rest her head against his shoulder, her mouth went dry and her pulse raced. She wasn’t attracted to him. More like unnerved. He was so different from any man she’d ever encountered. Jace was the sort of manly man she’d only read about in novels. As such, she wasn’t quite sure how to act around him. What should she do with her flighty hands or her eyes that were drawn to the breadth of his chest and the comma-shaped scar just beneath his right eye? And then there was the efficiency of his big hands.

  “Um, I thought we’d already established the fact that I’m not staying for—”

  The phone rang.

  Jace reached to answer. “Hello? Hello?” Hanging up, he said, “This is, like, the third hang-up call this week.”

  Sighing, he tilted his face toward the ceiling before looking to her. “Back to the subject at hand, you are staying for dinner.”

  “No.” She’d already grown too close to the girls. Him. She had to have some separation. Clarity as to where her new family left off and reality began.

  “What if I admitted the real reason I want you to stay?”

  “O-kay,” she practically whispered.

  “As lame as it sounds, I don’t want to be alone.”

  “You mean on your own with the girls?”

  Just then, Bronwyn did a whine-and-kick combo.

  Emma spooned peas from the pan on the stove, checked to make sure they weren’t too hot, and then divided them between the girls.

  Bronwyn dug right into hers, fisting them before globbing them into her mouth.

  Beatrice, however, cautiously looked them over.

  “No. Lately, I’m better with them—at least in regard to their physical maintenance. It’s the time after they’re asleep that bugs me.” Turning his back to her, he fished in the cabinet for a plate. “I can’t believe I’m even admitting this, but lately, when I’m alone, I get to dwelling on the uncertainty of my future. I used to have everything mapped out. Spend another few years in the Corps. Find a wife and settle down. Buy a great house and get a black dog and—”

  “Why a black dog?”

  “Hell, I don’t know,” he said with a laugh. “Guess I always wanted one ever since I was a little kid and my obnoxious neighbor, Brent Martin, got a black lab puppy for his eighth birthday. Every year after that, I asked for my own black lab puppy, but Mom’s a clean freak, and was afraid of our house being infested by fleas.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emma said, fighting the urge to physically comfort him. But that wasn’t such a great idea. After all, if she were back in her fast-paced Chicago office, she wouldn’t go hugging any of her cutthroat coworkers. Yeah, her conscience pointed out, but Stephen—the guy in the office down the hall—hadn’t exactly been the type to pour out his heart about puppy cravings. The fact that Jace was, only made him that much more appealing. Not that she was attracted to him in the physical sense, just that he was a nice guy. He would grow into a great father. “In your mother’s defense, I’ve heard fleas can be a nuisance.”

  “Sure,” he teased while grabbing silverware and a napkin, “take my mother’s side. What is it with all of you women sticking together?”

  “I thought I wasn’t staying for dinner?” she said, eyeing Jace’s latest addition to the table. Because truthfully, she wasn’t emotionally equipped to hear any more of his sweet stories. She was already perilously attached to his girls. Were she to grow a fondness for their father, too, it’d make her eventual departure that much harder to bear.

  “How can you even think of leaving me at a time like this? I not only poured out my soul, but dissed my mom.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’re as melodramatic as a jilted teen.”

  “Maybe so,” he quipped with a dashing wink, “but I still don’t want to eat alone. Please stay? Not for the girls, but because with all of my pent-up puppy grief, I’m needing an extra serving of TLC.” The exaggerated baleful look he shot her was pure, playful fun.

  “Oh, all right,” she finally caved, dragging out the chair opposite his. “But you’re serving me.”

  “Deal,” he sai
d, all smiles.

  “And I’m not staying to do the dishes.”

  “You won’t even help?”

  She firmly shook her head.

  “In that case…” he said, laughter lighting his eyes, “guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  That swat she’d wanted to give him earlier? She used her napkin to follow through!

  “HOW’S IT GOING with the nanny?” Granola held open the door to Mahoney’s—their favorite deli.

  It had been a few days since Jace and Em’s shared meal, and, though that night he had felt like they were at least on the verge of becoming friends, now, he wasn’t so sure. “All right, I guess.” As usual, the place decked out in pink and black fifties memorabilia, was packed. A jukebox blared Buddy Holly. The air smelled richly of cold cuts and cheeses and the famous brownies fresh-baked for dessert.

  Located on Olive’s original main drag—as opposed to the strip mall, fast-food-lined new highway—Mahoney’s got not only locals for lunch but the tourists who shopped in the cutesy downtown stores. The streetscape had time-faded redbrick buildings, with plenty of white columns, shutters and flowerboxes perpetually filled with blooms. Live oaks drizzled in Spanish moss dotted each corner of the ten-block historic district.

  Granola ordered a meatball sub.

  And because Jace was too mentally exhausted to come up with his own order, he got the same. Armed with bottled waters and their order numbers, they managed to snag a table between five suited businessmen and two moms with four, noisy toddlers.

  “Noticed you haven’t been around much.” Granola took a napkin from a chrome holder, and wiped at an oily smudge on the table. “The nanny keeping you at home?”

  Jace shrugged. “Not really. I mean, when I’m out late, I can tell Emma’s not happy about it, but she never really says anything.”

  “I wouldn’t sweat it. Women are weird.”

  “You think I don’t know that? How else would I have ended up in this impossible situation? I get the feeling Em expects me to be this amazing super dad, but how the hell am I supposed to know what’s going on? Know what I mean?”