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Pregnant and Protected
Lilian Darcy
For months, heiress Lauren Van Schuyler didn't know the identity of the man who'd saved her life and that of her unborn child. He'd kept her calm and safe, then slipped away in the chaos of their rescue. But when she met her new bodyguard, Daniel Lachlan, her pulse leaped and her heart cried out, It's him!The handsome single father of twins tried to keep things strictly professional between them. Yet in Daniel's care, Lauren felt secure and cherished as never before. As her body blossomed, so did her feelings for her reluctant hero. Could Daniel's honorable intentions stand up to the fiery mom-to-be's determination to follow her heart…right into Daniel's arms?



Pregnant and Protected
Lilian Darcy


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

LILIAN DARCY
has written nearly eighty books for Silhouette Romance, Silhouette Special Edition and Harlequin Medical Romance (Prescription Romance). Happily married, with four active children and a very patient cat, she enjoys keeping busy and could probably fill several more lifetimes with the things she likes to do—including cooking, gardening, quilting, drawing and traveling. She currently lives in Australia, but travels to the United States as often as possible to visit family. Lilian loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 532, Jamison P.O., Macquarie ACT 2614, Australia, or email her at lilian@liliandarcy.com.

Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue

Chapter 1
OUT OF ALL THE class rooms in all the preschools in Chicago, he had to walk into hers. Curt Black well. Even his name conjured up deep and dark memories.
The years hadn’t been kind to him, Jessica Moore noted. But then kindness and Curt Black well had never had much in common.
Twelve years. It had been twelve years since she’d seen him. They dropped away in an instant.
Multiple images hit her as she stared at him with quiet dread. He was a study of contrasts. The rigidity of his cropped dark hair and crisp military attire were at war with the sensual fullness of his mouth and the heated intensity of his brown eyes. He’d always had the ability to consume her with a single glance.
She was surprised by how much he’d changed and yet still remained the same. He’d obviously stayed in the Marine Corps and the dress blue uniform looked good on him. Better than good.
There was a U.S. Marine Reserve Training Facility not far from here. She passed it on her way home every night, but she never dreamed that Curt would end up there. The last she’d heard, he’d been in some hot spot overseas.
Her eyes sought out the little things she remembered about him, like the scar near his right temple—the result of a dispute between him on his motorbike and a tree. The tree had won, he’d once told her. But he wore new scars now, including a fairly recent one that formed a ragged line along his jaw.
Despite the years that had passed, Jessica had recognized him immediately. But she saw no similar recognition on his part, which didn’t surprise her. Curt had a track record of not seeing her. Only a few weeks after sharing the most in credible night of her life with her, he’d acted as if she were in visible.
Thrusting that humiliating memory out of her mind, she focused her attention on the little girl who stood nervously beside him, close enough to touch him but not doing so. Instead the little girl’s hand was clutching the hand of the preschool’s director, Sarah Connolly.
“We’ve got a new student here at the Happy Days Pre school and Day Care center,” Sarah cheer fully announced. “This is Blue Black well, she’s three years old, and she’s just moved here from San Diego. And this is Curt, her father.”
Curt’s daughter? In her class? The magnitude of the pain caught Jessica by surprise.
Pull it together, idiot, she fiercely ordered herself. You can’t fall apart. Not here. Not now.
Years of dealing with crises allowed Jessica to make a fairly smooth recovery as she leaned down to the little girl. “Hello, Blue. We’re glad you’ve joined us.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll leave her in your hands,” Curt said un com fort ably, clearly eager to follow Sarah as she left.
Much as she wanted him to disappear, she had Blue’s welfare to think of. The little girl would be terrified if Curt just dumped her off in a strange environment.
“You’ll be joining us too, Mr. Black well,” Jessica stated, using her best teacher voice, the one that said I mean business.
Apparently it had little effect on a marine, because he just shrugged off her words and kept heading to the door. “I’ve got to get back to work,” he was saying. Was there an edge of desperation in his voice or was she imagining things?
Jessica had no choice but to put her hand on his arm. By now she was so numb with shock that she didn’t even register the physical contact. All she noticed was that it stopped him. “This will only take a few minutes, but it is necessary and extremely important for your daughter’s comfort.”
“Okay—” he shot an impatient look at his watch “—but I don’t have much time.”
Satisfied that he would stay, Jessica quickly dropped her hand from his arm and returned her attention to Blue. “My name is Jessica, and I’m going to be your teacher.”
The little girl just nodded but didn’t say a word. Blue’s brown hair was tied up into two lopsided pigtails. Her blue jeans and white T-shirt were crisp with newly bought stiffness, and her black patent shoes shone. She wore a beat-up lime-green thin jacket better suited for San Diego than the chilliness of late March in the Midwest. She didn’t appear to have a backpack or any school supplies yet.
After introducing Blue to the rest of the class as well as Jessica’s two teaching assistants, Lisa Yu and Tawanna Houston, Jessica teamed Blue up with another little girl, Susan, who was the most outgoing in class and had the biggest heart. “Why don’t you show Blue where she can put her coat?” Jessica suggested to Susan. “Then we’ll begin story hour, and Blue can sit next to you.”
Once the two girls had moved away, Jessica spoke to Curt in a quick under tone. “You can’t just sneak out after leaving Blue in a new class room. I want to make sure that she knows you’re coming back for her. You need to tell her that. If you sneak out, you’re breaking the trust she’s placed in you.” Just like you broke the trust I placed in you all those years ago. The thought streaked through Jessica’s mind before she shoved it aside. She refused to give in to the past. She had a job to do here. “It would have been best if her mother could have been here with you,” Jessica added.
“Her mother is dead,” Curt said.
She blinked at the terseness of his announcement and the lack of emotion with which it was delivered. “I’m sorry to hear that, but in that case it’s even more important that you don’t sneak out on Blue. You’re all she’s got, and she needs to know that even though you’re leaving now, you’ll be coming back for her later.”
He shifted impatiently. “Why can’t you tell her that?”
“Because I’m not her parent, you are.”
The noise level in the room suddenly rose as the small group of preschoolers sensed their teacher’s distraction and decided to make the most of it. Grabbing the sheep off her desk, the one with a big brass bell around its furry neck, Jessica shook the sheep and made the bell ring.
Recognizing her quiet signal, all the students made the universal shush signal. Except for the class hellion, four-year-old Brian, who rushed forward to tug on Curt’s sleeve. “Do you drive a tank? Are you stronger than Hercules?”
Curt just stared at the boy as if he were an alien creature before saying, “I left my tank at work. And I need to get back to it now,” he added with a pointed look in Jessica’s direction.
“Then we’ll leave you alone so you can talk to Blue for a minute,” Jessica replied with a look just as pointed. “Come along, Brian. Which book do you think we should read for storytelling today?”
Although she stepped aside to give Curt and his daughter some privacy, her class room wasn’t big enough, nor Curt’s voice soft enough to prevent her from hearing what he said to Blue. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll be leaving you at this facility and will return to pick you up at fifteen hundred hours.”
It was as if Curt were speaking to one of his recruits, not a child. The man clearly didn’t have a clue how to deal with his daughter, who just stared at him while nervously nibbling her lower lip.
Gathering her up into a hug as Curt made a hurried departure, Jessica said, “You’re going to be having lots of fun with us, and you’ll be seeing your daddy again before you know it.”
“He don’t like me,” Blue whispered un steadily.
“Oh, honey, what makes you say that?”
“He said so.”

Curt was behind schedule and he hated it. He prided himself on getting the mission accomplished—whether it was a mission in Iraq or registering his kid in preschool.
His kid. He still couldn’t get over the fact that he had a daughter.
It had been a hell of a week. On Monday he’d gotten the final report from the medics in forming him that the limp the sniper’s bullet had left him with would most likely be permanent and would result in his being re as signed to a desk job. Frustration at his reassignment gnawed at him. He was a doer, not a damn paper-pusher.
And what had Fate done to help him out in his time of need? Delivered an almost-baby daughter he hadn’t even known he’d had on his doorstep. That had only been three days ago.
The child welfare worker had filled in the blanks. It seems that Gloria, the earthy cocktail waitress he’d had a short interlude with in San Diego nearly four years ago before he’d been transferred and shipped overseas, had had his baby.
Curt was no idiot. He’d known that Gloria had a thing for marines and that he hadn’t been the only man in her life. But it had only taken one look at the little girl to know she was his. The straw berry-colored birth mark just above her knee matched the one he had on his own leg.
The kid was his. He had a daughter.
Presto, he was a father.
Curt knew he was totally unqualified for the job. He hadn’t known his own father, who’d taken off before he was born. But Curt wouldn’t take off on Blue. He wouldn’t desert her. He lived up to his responsibilities. He was a marine, by God.
Not that his uniform had im pressed Blue’s teacher. She’d looked at him as if he were pond scum. And ordered him around. Curt wasn’t used to taking orders from a civilian. And he hated feeling like a raw recruit who was incompetent.
So he was no pro at this pa renting stuff. How hard could it be? He was a member of the United States Marine Corps with a legacy of duty, strength, sacrifice, discipline and determination. He had a feeling he’d need all those things and more to measure up in that disapproving teacher’s book.

The minute Jessica let herself into her Lincoln Square condo, she kicked off her shoes and grabbed her cell phone. She dumped her tote bag filled with school work on the floor before sitting on the denim couch. The blue corduroy jumper she wore was baggy enough that she had lots of room to curl her legs beneath her, a pose she resorted to whenever she was extremely nervous.
Normally she’d change into com fort able sweats as soon as she got home, but today she needed to talk to her best friend, Amy Weissman, before doing anything else. She’d known Amy since they’d shared a freshman English class in high school.
“You’ll never guess who walked into my class room this morning,” Jessica said. “Curt Black well.”
“Curt ‘Bad Boy’ Black well?” Amy’s voice reflected her disbelief. “From high school?”
“The one and only.” And he’d been Jessica’s one and only in more ways than one. The only one who’d captured her heart with the total surrender of first love. The only one she’d given her virginity to. The only one who’d ever kicked her in the teeth afterward.
She didn’t have to vocalize any of those things to her best friend. Amy already knew. “Tell me he’s come crawling back to you after all these years, and you shoved his tonsils down his throat,” Amy growled, never one to be docile in her defense of her friends.
“Not exactly. He didn’t even recognize me. He came to register his daughter in my preschool class.”
“Oh, Jessica, I’m so sorry.”
Jessica closed her eyes and saw herself as a senior in high school, the nerdy brain and social misfit, the only girl in her class who didn’t have a date for the prom. And then there was Curt, the bad boy she’d had a crush on since her freshman year. When she’d run across a tipsy Curt behind the public library on prom night and he’d flashed his wicked smile at her, she’d finally given in to her feelings and they’d ended up making love in the back seat of his beat-up Mustang.
She could still remember the smell of fresh-cut grass drifting through the open window of his car, the scratchy feel of the cracked vinyl of the seat against her bare thigh, the sound of her name on his lips and the heat of his hand on her skin—the for bid den passion and the in credible outcome. Her only thoughts had been of him, her only wish to be with him.
But the next day Curt was gone. The United States Marine Corps had a prior claim on him.
Even though he’d left, Jessica had been sure that Curt would write to her from boot camp. He didn’t. She didn’t panic. Not until she skipped her period. Then she’d panicked.
Curt had come home for a few days after completing boot camp, but she’d only found out he was back thanks to a chance meeting on the street. When he didn’t even speak to her…when he instead turned away from her with an embarrassed look on his face, her heart and her foolish dreams of a future with him had crumbled.
Her period had started the next morning, the pregnancy scare over. She’d eventually gotten over the feeling of betrayal. But when he’d walked back into her life, the past had come rushing right at her. If she really had been pregnant all those years ago, she and Curt would have had a child together. A daughter maybe. Would she have looked like Blue?
“What are you going to do?” Amy softly asked, bringing her back to the present.
Jessica took a deep breath before replying. “I’m going to teach his daughter. I’m a professional. I won’t blame the child for the sins of the father. And that little girl really needs someone to help her. Curt is still in the marines, and he treats her like she’s a recruit instead of his daughter. And she’s such a sweet little girl.”
“What happened to her mom?” Amy asked.
“She’s passed away, that’s all I know. I can’t turn my back on Blue,” Jessica said firmly. “First and foremost she’s a person in her own right. And she deserves to have someone care about her, especially after what she’s been through. Curt only got to me today because I didn’t see him coming. There’s no way in the world that I’d ever let Curt Black well close enough to hurt me again.”

“Do you need any help getting ready for bed?” Curt asked Blue. He’d already learned from experience that she was much better at un dressing than dressing.
She shook her head.
“Okay, then I’ll be in your room for lights off in five minutes.”
He sighed as she scurried from the room. He’d tried talking softly to her, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. He hated the possibility that she might be afraid of him, but had no idea how to rectify things.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he stared at the pile of pa per work that still needed completing by the morning. The government liked everything done in triplicate and that included forms. The five minutes he’d given Blue went by in the blink of an eye. When he walked into her room, she was waiting for him, sitting in her bed as erect as any seasoned marine.
“At ease,” he told her.
She blinked at him and relaxed a bit. She should be happy. He wished she’d be happy. Hell, the kid had a bedroom fit for a princess. He’d let her pick out everything herself, partially because he didn’t have a clue what a three-year-old would like and partially to please her.
She was his daughter, but she was still a stranger to him. Maybe if he’d been in her life from the time she’d been a baby, maybe then he’d be a pro at this daddy stuff by now.
As it was, he was feeling totally out of his element here. The kid had such sad eyes. Brown like his. And she rarely smiled. She did grin when he did his Three Stooges im per so nations, but he suspected that was just because she got a kick out of him making a fool of himself.
Like he had with that teacher today. For some reason she’d looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t think why. He wasn’t even sure of her name, at the time he’d been so rattled that he hadn’t been paying much attention except when she’d ordered him to stay put.
Having briefly served as a drill sergeant, he’d recognized the steel in her voice. He could clear an entire room or dismiss a group of recruits with a single barked order. He’d been careful not to use that tone of voice around Blue. And not to swear. It wasn’t easy sometimes.
As he looked around Blue’s room, a host of Disney characters stared back at him from just about every surface—from the lamp shade to the sheets. He didn’t know who the characters were, but Blue did. He’d been lucky that this two-bedroom unit had been avail able and in the same building as the furnished studio apartment he’d just rented on a monthly basis—before he’d known about Blue. The landlord had been willing to transfer the lease to this larger place.
“So you’re all set for bed then, right?” he said.
Blue nodded solemnly.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“Fooba.”
Curt reached for the grungy teddy bear propped against the foot of her bed. He’d offered to buy her a new bear but she’d insisted on keeping this mangy-looking thing. He suspected it was because her mother had given it to her.
He reached out, planning on smoothing Blue’s ruffled hair…before he chickened out and reached for the switch on the Disney lamp instead.
“Good night then,” he said.
“My shoes is shined,” Blue suddenly announced.
“I…uh…that’s nice.”
She lifted the sheet to show him the black patent leather shoes she was still wearing.
Jeez, what kind of father was he to send his kid to bed with her shoes on?
“Now they’s like yours,” she said proudly.
“Yes, they are, but even I don’t wear my shoes to bed. Let’s take them off, you little monkey.”
“I’s not a monkey,” she said solemnly. “I’s a girl.”
“You sure are.”
“Would you like me more if I’s a monkey?”
Imagining her trying to swing from the canopied bedposts, he hurriedly said, “No, I certainly would not like you better if you were a monkey.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.
“I think staying a little girl is a wise move,” he said, fumbling with the sissy strap on her shoes. He felt like a bull in a china shop. His hands were so big and her little girl stuff was so tiny. The first time he’d had to help her with her clothes it had taken him an hour to get her dressed.
Finally he got the shoes off her feet and tucked neatly beneath her bed. “Okay, now you’re really ready for bed, right?”
Blue nodded.
“Good.”
“But Fooba isn’t,” she added.
Curt sighed. It was going to be another long night.

The next afternoon, Curt was once again in Jessica’s class room, to pick up Blue after work. He was running five minutes behind schedule, but he should be able to make that up on the drive home providing he wasn’t delayed…
“Mr. Black well, I’d like to speak to you in private for a moment.”
The teacher. Glaring at him.
Curt sighed. There went his schedule.
Jessica heard him sigh, and the fact that he made her feel as if she was being a nuisance didn’t endear him to her any. Too bad. If he’d filled out the parental information forms about Blue’s likes and dislikes that Jessica had sent home with the little girl yesterday, then Jessica wouldn’t have to speak to him today.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d still need to discuss with him what Blue had said about Curt not liking her and his having told her so. The little girl’s offhand comment had sliced Jessica’s heart. She wasn’t eager to spend any time with Curt, but she couldn’t turn her back on Blue. It was Jessica’s responsibility as her teacher to do what she could. Even if that meant dealing with Curt.
Today his marine uniform consisted of khaki green slacks and a khaki shirt. It made her wonder what he looked like in a black T-shirt and jeans. Don’t go there, she warned herself. Keep your mind on Blue.
But before she could bring up the matter of the missing forms, Curt said, “What’s the problem? Has Blue been misbehaving?”
“On the contrary,” Jessica replied. “She’s very careful not to do anything wrong.”
Curt’s relieved smile reflected his approval. “That’s good.”
“No, it’s not. Not when it means that she’s terrified of doing some thing wrong. She thinks you don’t like her.”
“I like the kid well enough,” Curt replied defensively, “and I never told her any differently.”
“So you never told her that you didn’t like her?”
His “No, ma’am” was a marine bark.
“Perhaps she over heard you telling someone else?” she suggested.
“No, ma’am.” His narrow-eyed gaze told her he didn’t appreciate this line of questioning.
“Have you told her that you love her?”
If she didn’t know better, she could almost have sworn that Curt actually squirmed in his seat. “No.”
“Why not? Children need to hear…”
“Look, I didn’t even know she existed until a few days ago, her mother never bothered telling me. When she died, the authorities tracked me down and brought Blue to me. I’ve only known her a few days.” Straightening his shoulders, Curt stared her right in the eye, his glance as steely as a double-edged sword. “Blue is my responsibility now, and I take my responsibilities seriously.”
“I’m just trying to do what’s right for Blue,” Jessica assured him. “She needs attention and security.”
“That’s why I signed her up here. That’s your job.”
Jessica refused to give in to her anger. “She’s looking for love and attention from a parent. From you. I realize that being a parent is a new situation for you. Our local community college has some classes that you might find helpful,” she suggested.
“I don’t need to go back to school,” he stated in disgust. “I’ve handled much more responsibility than a little three-year-old kid.” Seeing the expression on her face, he held up one hand and added, “I’m not saying I couldn’t use a few pointers. But you can do that. You can teach me what I need to know.”
Here it was. That fork in the road. Did she dare go down it with him? Even for Blue’s sake?
What other choice did she have? “I’d be willing to work with you and suggest some additional reading,” she said cautiously, “if you’re willing to learn some additional pa renting skills.”
“Wait a second,” Curt said, a light bulb suddenly going on in those brown eyes of his as he leaned forward to stare at her as if seeing her—really seeing her—for the first time. “I know who you are.”
Oh, no, not now. Not here. She wasn’t ready for this yet.
“You’re Jessie the Brain!” he said triumphantly. “We went to high school together.”

Chapter 2
“YOUR HAIR WAS LONGER then, but you gave me the same speech about being ‘willing to learn’ when you offered to tutor me in Geometry.”
Jessie the Brain. Curt couldn’t believe that she was back in his life again after all this time. The last time he’d seen her was…
He frowned. It had to have been that night before he’d left to join the marines. The memory was blurred by his having indulged in way too much alcohol that night. He recalled them bumping into each other and his surprise—first that he’d asked her to join him for a joy ride in his old red Mustang, second that she’d actually accepted, and third that he’d let her drive his car. They’d ended up in some park some where, and he’d kissed her…several times.
What happened after that wasn’t clear. But the next morning, he’d woken with the worst hangover of his life. His temples throbbed just thinking about it.
As for the vague sense of guilt he was feeling, no doubt it was a result of the fact that he’d never gotten in touch with her again after that night.
At the time, he’d briefly wondered how far their making out had gone. Had he reached first base…or third? There was little to no chance he’d hit a home run and gone all the way—not with Jessie the Brain. She was a “good” girl, pure and demure. His total opposite.
Maybe this explained why she’d stared at him with such underlying hostility earlier. He’d probably made an idiot of himself that night, and she’d put him in his place when he’d tried to seduce her.
He looked at her with new eyes. Her honey-blond hair used to be longer, almost down to her waist. It was barely shoulder-length now, in one of those layered cuts that women these days seemed to favor. A hazy memory of him threading his fingers through her long silky hair flashed through his mind with the abruptness of an exploding land mine. He blinked at the unexpected vision. But when he tried to recapture the image, it was gone.
She had cat’s eyes, tipped up at the outside corners. Leaning forward, he saw that they were an intense shade of green that reminded him of the jungles in the Philippines. Unless she was wearing colored contact lenses?
He cynically reminded himself that women had various ways of camouflaging them selves into something they weren’t—everything from nose jobs to breast implants.
His gaze slid down her body with quick efficiency. She was wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a pink shirt. Nothing sexy there. Very practical attire. But beneath that no-nonsense outfit she had a Marilyn Monroe kind of figure that wasn’t popular on TV and movies these days, but which any man preferred over skinny orphan looks. He’d seen too many skinny orphans during his tours of duty overseas. Their grateful looks and shy smiles when he’d handed out candy bars that he’d always kept in his pocket still haunted his sleep some nights.
Jessie the Brain wasn’t the type of woman who’d haunt a man’s dreams. There wasn’t anything about her that really stood out, aside from those catlike green eyes. But there was some thing about her just the same, an inner strength combined with a warm heart.
Here was a woman who faced life head-on. Here was a woman not im pressed by his uniform. Here was a woman staring at him with disapproval and dismay—the kind of look he’d gotten from a majority of the adults in his teenage life. Not a look he’d received lately.
“It’s been a long time,” he murmured.
She shrugged.
“Jessie the Brain.” He shook his head, as if still unable to believe they’d run into each other again. “After all these years. Your hair is shorter now.”
Her hand flew up to her hair as if guilty at being caught. “So’s yours,” she shot back.
He nodded with a sense of sat is faction. Oh, yeah, she was definitely the kind of woman who could hold her own.
“But getting back to your daughter.” Her voice held a no-nonsense tone that made him smile for some reason. “I really do think it would be best if you took one of the pa renting classes at the community college—”
He cut off her words with a sharp wave of his hand. “You already said you’d be willing to work with me. There’s no backing out now.”
“I wasn’t trying to back out.”
His look challenged her claim.
“Okay, maybe I was,” she admitted. “Because I’m not at all sure of your commitment to learning and to working with me.”
His narrowed gaze had made new recruits quiver in their boots. “You’re questioning my commitment?”
She showed no signs of being intimidated. Instead she gave him a narrow-eyed gaze of her own. “Do you really think you can hack Daddy Boot Camp?”
“Just try me,” he said.
“If I think for one minute you’re slacking off—”
“I’m a marine,” he interrupted her. “We don’t slack off.”
“Fine.” She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down a few things before handing it to him. “Read these books by the weekend. I’m busy on Saturday, but I have Sunday free. I’ll put you through some pa renting exercises then.”
“Out standing. Your place or mine?”
His place or hers? Which would be the lesser of two evils, Jessica wondered. Having him invade her domain, or venturing into enemy territory by going to his place? The practical side of her pointed out that if she went to his place, she’d have a chance to see for herself where Blue lived and under what conditions.
“Your place,” she said crisply.
“Excellent.” His voice was just as crisp. Frowning, he said, “Do you keep in touch with anyone from the old neighborhood?”
She didn’t want to talk about the past, but his question was so innocuous that it would raise a red flag if she didn’t reply. “Only Amy Weissman. I wasn’t exactly the most popular girl in school.” She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded matter-of-fact and dis played no bitterness.
Instead of commenting on her statement, Curt said, “So I guess you went on to college just like you planned? The University of Illinois was it?”
She was surprised he’d remembered that much. “That’s right.” She didn’t want to talk about the past any longer. It was a part of her life she’d put into a sealed box and stored in a distant part of mind. That had worked until this man had walked back into her life. “But that was a very long time ago.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It was.”
He gave her no indication that he remembered what they’d shared, that night of passion in the back seat of his car. He’d probably had so many women since then that he couldn’t keep track of them all, she thought tartly. What had been a momentous occasion for her had clearly been nothing much to him.
That all-too-familiar stab of pain pierced her heart, as it had when he’d first walked into her class room.
Get over it, she fiercely ordered herself. Keep your mind on the goal here, make things better for Blue. The pain lessened, and she gazed at him without revealing her inner turmoil.
“I’ll see you on Sunday then,” she said in a dismissive voice.
“You certainly will, ma’am,” he drawled, un folding his lean body from the chair to give her a mocking salute before heading toward the door.
She couldn’t help herself. She stuck her tongue out at him. It was juvenile and impolite, but it sure felt good.
Until he said, “I saw that.” Not bothering to stop or turn around, he indicated the mirror like reflective surface of the window next to the door into her class room. “Nice tongue,” he added before exiting.
This time she waited until he left before throwing a crumpled ball of paper after him.
Just when she thought it was safe, he popped his head around the door frame to say, “Nice toss. For a girl.”
“Nice compliment. For a marine.”
His smile indicated his appreciation for her quick comeback. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
She’d thought so at one time. But not now, not again. Not in this lifetime.

Curt frowned at the pile of books strewn across the living-room couch. Who knew there was so much to learn about a three-year-old?
He shuddered with relief that he didn’t have to deal with the chapters marked Potty Training. He was sure that would have brought even a tough guy like him to his knees. He could have managed if Blue had been a boy. Heck, the suggestions for boys had sounded like target practice, only this time the targets had been floating Cheerios in a toilet bowl instead of enemy forces in a battlefield.
But girls were different. different in so many ways that it was all he could do not give in to the doubts prowling around the pit of his stomach, just waiting for him to screw up as he’d done so many times as a teenager. Being in the marines had rid him of those feelings, or so he’d thought until Blue had shown up on his doorstep.
He refused to surrender to fear. Marines never surrendered. They survived. They overcame. They succeeded. Over all odds.
Or they re grouped to fight another day.
Jessie the Brain was coming here tomorrow. He tried to view the place through her eyes. It was clean. Scrupulously so. No easy feat with a kid who seemed determined to leave her toys all over the place, even stuffing things in his shoes and his brief case.
At first he’d been pleased that she’d liked the set of small trucks he’d bought her. It wasn’t as if trucks were a girly thing. Maybe he should have gotten her dolls or stuffed animals. But she’d liked the trucks and had played with them for hours. When she wasn’t hiding them in his shoes or brief case.
One thing was for sure, Jessie wouldn’t be able to give him any demerits on the safety front. He’d had the entire place child proofed—from the kitchen and bathroom cabinets and drawers to the electrical outlets and the pull strings on the venetian blinds covering the windows.
Of course he had yet to master the art of by passing the kid proofing to open some of the cabinets or drawers himself, but he’d learn. Just as he’d learned how to open child proof bottles of aspirin without taking a hacksaw to them.
Who knew an apartment could hold so much danger for a curious kid? And Blue was certainly curious. He couldn’t even count the number of questions she asked him each day. How do tigers roar? Why are we people and not tigers? Why does your mouth go up when you smile? He just told her to ask her teacher.
Which led him back to Jessie again. It seemed a majority of his thoughts led him back to her. Looking down at the book on his lap, he tried to focus on the words. Play patterns. Good manners. Social graces. Yeah, right.
Turning the book over, he gazed at the title again. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Pa renting a Preschooler and Toddler, Too. Was this Jessie’s way of telling him he was a complete idiot? He supposed when it came to pa renting, he was. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. He was accustomed to giving orders, not taking them. Read these books. She’d issued the order like a drill sergeant.
As for this Daddy Boot Camp thing, he hoped she didn’t expect him to hop to it like some raw recruit. Because he had no intention of playing that game. A man had his pride. And a marine had ten times that much.
That was one of the reasons he loved being a marine. His fellow officers under stood him. His recruits obeyed him. Rules and regulations left no wiggle room for things like taming tantrums. And a part of him still didn’t see why he couldn’t apply the marines way of doing this to this pa renting deal. Discipline and order were good things. Things that needed to be learned early in life.
Maybe if his father had had a little dis ci pline he wouldn’t have abandoned Curt when he was born. There were times he wondered about the blood he’d inherited from his unknown father. What kind of man walked away from his responsibilities that way?
A man not worthy of the name.
Which didn’t change the fact that Curt not only had no pa renting experience, but he had no family-life experience. Not that there was necessarily such a thing as a normal family in today’s world of divorce and step-families. But even those families had some kind of experience of love.
Curt had no such experience. His mother had considered him to be a burden, she’d told him so often enough before the state had stepped in and put him in foster care when he was nine.
He’d never thought of being a parent himself. Absently rubbing his aching leg, he refused to be intimidated by the prospect of what might lay ahead. He’d pick up some pointers from Jessie and move on.
All he had to do was think of this as a new form of training. As a marine, he’d completed boot camp when he’d first enlisted. Since then he’d completed additional training in everything from surviving behind enemy lines to advanced infantry training schooling.
He knew that fear of the unknown was the greatest fear of all. So all he had to do was learn the tricks of this pa renting thing, and he’d be home free.

During the Sunday morning drive to Curt’s apartment complex, Jessica almost turned around and headed back home about a dozen times. She had to keep re minding herself that the faster Curt learned a few pa renting skills, the sooner he’d become self-sufficient and not be requiring her assistance. Not to mention that it would make things easier for little Blue if she had a father who knew how to express his love for her.
Not that Jessica was an expert on affection ate dads. Heaven knew her own father had always been a complete enigma to her. An autocratic man, he did not know the meaning of the word compromise.
Sighing, Jessica stole a quick glance in her Ford Taurus’s rearview mirror to check two things—first, if she’d nibbled off all her lipstick and second, if the left lane was clear for her to move into it. The lipstick was long gone and the traffic was solid.
Flicking her turn signal, she managed to slip in between a truck and minivan. Curt’s directions had been precise down to the mile with everything listed with military precision—turn north on Foster Avenue, proceed for 5.6 miles then turn east at next inter section. There hadn’t been any additional colorful play-by-play, like turning left at the doughnut shop on the corner. The directions were like the man himself. No-nonsense.
She wondered what had happened to the bad boy she’d known as a teenager? Had he changed that much?
Her curiosity wasn’t personal. She was merely interested in human nature, that’s all. The silent assurance made her feel less jittery as she pulled into the apartment complex’s parking lot. The pale brick building was a new one and in good shape. All the windows had screens, im por tant for preschooler safety.
Before getting out of her car, she touched up her lipstick, a re strained mauve that drew attention to her lips without making her look made-up. The periwinkle-blue pants and matching tunic-length top she wore were casual enough to make it appear that she hadn’t dressed up for today, but fit her well enough to be a confidence booster. Her hair was gathered up and piled on top of her head, held in place with a silver hairclip given to her by a parent last year.
She’d brought a tote bag filled with materials to assist her with today’s lessons. There was no assisting her racing heart as she knocked on Curt’s door.
He yanked the door open and pulled her inside before she could say a word. She no longer had to wonder what he’d look like in a black T-shirt and jeans. That’s what he was currently wearing, and the result was simply too darn sexy for comfort.
“What took you so long?” he demanded.
She frowned at him, her gaze having traveled up his muscular body to his face. “Is that a cherry you’ve got on your chin?”
Grabbing the kitchen towel he had slung over his shoulder, he hurriedly swiped his face. “I was giving her toast, and I let her spread a little of the jam around.”
“She seems to have spread it more than a little,” she replied, trying not to laugh at the picture of what appeared to be a rattled Curt.
He glared at her. “Aren’t you supposed to teach her how to eat in school?”
“She eats just fine in school,” she solemnly assured him.
“Then teach her how to eat just fine at home.”
“Jessie, Jessie, Jessie!” Blue shrieked and came racing into the room, her hands smeared with cherry jam.
“Halt!” Curt barked. “Sit!”
“She’s not a dog,” Jessica said, her voice making it clear she dis ap proved of his tactics.
But they did work.
Blue stopped in her tracks and sank onto the floor.
“Hands out,” Curt ordered.
Blue obediently stuck out her messy hands.
Using the towel he had slung over his shoulder, he tried to wipe her hands. Jessica could have told him that he’d need a damp cloth to get rid of all the stickiness, but she let him find that out for himself.
“I’s not a dog. I’s a girl,” Blue declared.
“No kidding,” Curt muttered.
The little girl tilted her head to look up at her father. “Would you like me more if I was a dog?”
Jessica’s heart just about broke there and then. Kneeling on the floor beside Blue, she quickly assured her, “Oh, honey, we like you just the way you are.”
Curt hunkered down beside them, still intent on cleaning up Blue’s sticky hands and apparently blithely unaware of his daughter’s emotional needs.
Jessica gave him a discreet poke in his side, right between the ribs. Her meaningful look finally spurred him into speaking.
“Yeah right. Just the way you are,” he told Blue. “Only cleaner. Now march back into that kitchen, young lady.”
Blue almost poked his eye out as she saluted him, leaving a smear of jam on her forehead and then on his. But she showed no signs of heading for the kitchen.
“Help me out here,” Curt growled in Jessica’s direction.
“I’m just here to observe,” she replied, wanting to tell him that Blue needed his un conditional love, not a love that was dependent on her being a spotlessly clean, good girl. But it wouldn’t be appropriate now, not with Blue present.
“To observe?” he repeated in disbelief. “How useless is that?”
“If you’d rather I went home…” Jessica turned as if to leave.
“Stay.”
“I’m not a dog, either,” she replied over her shoulder, one hand on the doorknob. “So don’t try ordering me around as if I were one.”
“Please stay.”
He wasn’t happy about having to ask politely, there was no mistaking that in the taut line of his jaw. But he did it.
She sighed. “Let’s get to work.”
“Let’s play,” Blue said.
“First you need cleaning up.” Curt gingerly picked his daughter up, as if she were a package he was hauling from one room to another. He didn’t prop her against his shoulder or hold her in the crook of his arm. He simply lifted her—his hands spanning her waist, his arms outstretched—and marched her into the kitchen.
Jessica followed him. The living room only had a colonial-style couch in a beige-and-orange plaid that had either been a garage sale find or a sign that Curt was totally style-deprived. The only other piece of furniture was a large TV set. The man clearly traveled light. She wondered how long he’d been in Chicago? When he’d gotten the leg injury that caused him to limp? Why he’d made love to her and then acted like nothing had ever happened between them?
All off-limits subjects, she warned herself as she stepped into the kitchen.
Morning sunlight streamed through the large window over the sink. The cabinets were white, as were all the appliances and the counter top, which had nothing but a coffeemaker on it.
Seeing her interest, he said, “I child proofed all the cabinets so she’d be secure in this residence.”
“That’s good.” So Blue would be secure, but would she ever know what it felt like to have her father give her an affection ate bear hug? Or would she forever be taking orders barked out in a curt voice? Forever falling short of expectations set too high to ever be accomplished.
Jessica certainly knew how that felt. She didn’t want the same thing happening to Blue. Didn’t want to see the little girl’s natural exuberance drained right out of existence. Blue had already had enough tragedy in her life, what with her mother dying. What she needed now was stability, under standing and lots of love.
Jessica’s arms ached to hold the little girl, to give her the loving she needed. The only thing that held her back was the knowledge that she was already in way over her head. Besides, the bottom line was that she was merely Blue’s preschool teacher. Curt was the parent in this scenario.
Which only served to remind her of how she’d once day dreamed about what kind of father he’d be. During that pregnancy scare so long ago, she’d anticipated his reaction to hearing they’d made a baby together when they’d made love in the back seat of his Mustang. In her teenage fantasy he’d been surprised, and then he’d taken her in his arms and asked her to marry him. It wouldn’t matter that he’d just joined the marines. She’d wait for him.
How foolish she’d been. How dangerously naïve. She’d badly wanted a baby, wanted someone of her own to love. That hadn’t changed. What had changed was Jessica.
She no longer had to worry about pregnancy scares. Not after being gently told a few years back by her elderly family practitioner that she had a badly tipped uterus, so badly tipped that it was extremely doubtful she’d be able to conceive.
So she’d closed the door on one dream and focused her attention on her work teaching preschoolers, never thinking that one day she’d be teaching Curt how to deal with his own daughter.

Chapter 3
DISMAYED AT THE direction of her thoughts and at the unexpected sting of threatening tears, Jessica mentally changed gears. This wasn’t about her or Curt, it was about Blue.
Tugging out the yellow legal pad of paper where she’d written up her notes, she consulted the first page. “Most Daddy Boot Camps are designed for new fathers with infants,” she told him. “I’ve adapted a program to your special needs. I thought we’d cover the basics—eating, getting dressed, bathing and bedtime.”
Startled, Blue looked out the window and practically howled, “Noooo! Not bedtime now.”
“That’s right, it’s not bedtime now,” Jessica agreed in a soothing voice. “Let me see your beautiful clean hands.” Blue eagerly held them out for her appraisal. “Very nice.”
“Very nice,” Blue agreed with a nod.
“Looking good,” Curt said, tossing the dirty towel into the sink.
“Looking good,” Blue repeated.
“Is there any one of the areas I’ve listed that you’re particularly having trouble with?” Jessica asked Curt.
All of them. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Instead he said, “You might as well go over all of them. But I have a few questions for you first.” Picking up a notebook of his own, he listed them in rapid-fire succession. “How often do you have fire drills? Are you trained in CPR and pediatric first aid? Is the school registered or licensed with the state?”
She appeared to be im pressed by his questions. “I see you’ve been doing some reading as I suggested.”
“That’s right.” He hated feeling in com pe tent, so he’d made it a point to find out as much as he could in the past few days. A lot of what he read he considered to be psychological babble. He was a bottom-line kind of guy. But he was encouraged to read that kids needed schedules and routines. So did marines. The recruits he trained needed the discipline to follow orders.
Having a raw recruit overcome their fear of heights enough to finally rappel down a tower gave him a feeling of accomplishment. Maybe this was Curt’s chance to overcome a fear of his own—the fear of being a parent. Over coming fear was another big deal for a marine.
Yeah, he liked looking at the process that way.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” she asked him in exasperation.
“Yes. You said you were trained in CPR and pediatric first aid, that the preschool is licensed by the state and that you have the required number of fire drills.” Learning to concentrate on more than one thing at one time was another advantage he possessed over an average dad. Another thing the marines had taught him. “Now tell me the secrets of dressing.”
“Secrets, huh? You make it sound as if there’s only one way of accomplishing these goals. There isn’t. Some times it’s learning by trial and error. What I can do is give you some suggestions. First off, I’d mention that Blue here is a little girl, not a sack of potatoes.”
“Blue is a little girl,” Blue repeated proudly. “Is not potatoes. Is not a dog.”
“Your point being?” Curt demanded of Jessie.
“Just that you seemed a bit un com fort able carrying her.”
That’s because he was a man more accustomed to carrying an M-16 rifle than a kid.
“Show me. Please,” he added.
“Just act naturally.”
“Easy for you to say,” he muttered.
“Here…” Jessica bent down to lift Blue in her arms, propping the little girl on one hip. “Like this.”
“That’s a girly way to hold a kid,” Curt scoffed.
She raised an eyebrow at his tone of voice. “Oh, so now you’re the expert?”
“Here.” He took Blue from her and after an awkward moment or two, shifted his daughter so that she was perched atop his shoulders.
“Giddeeup horsey!” Blue shrieked, digging her heels into his chest.
“Be careful she doesn’t use your hair as the horsie’s reins,” Jessica warned him.
“It’s not long enough,” he replied, clearly not concerned.
He was right. But since his hair wasn’t long enough for her to take handfuls of, Blue instead grabbed hold of his ears.
“No grabbing of ears,” he ordered, wincing slightly. “Do you read me, young lady?”
“Yessir.” She tried to salute and in doing so almost fell off his shoulders. Lowering her, he gingerly propped her against one shoulder and held her in the crook of his left arm.
“Gotta go potty!” Blue loudly announced, whereupon he hastily lowered her to the floor as if she were radioactive.
“Need any help?” Jessica inquired, trying not to laugh.
“Who are you asking, Blue or me?” Curt said.
“Both of you.”
“Blue can go to the bathroom on her own, thank God. The cabinets in there are kid proofed, too.”
Jessica was pleased to note that he still kept a watchful eye toward the open bathroom door down the hallway.
During Blue’s absence, Jessica thought this might be a good time to address the issue of emotions. “Blue needs to know that you’ll love her no matter what, not just when she’s all cleaned up or when she’s a good girl. Remember that your child will look to you as a model of how to express emotions, so you need to make a point of ex pressing them honestly.”
Emotions weren’t some thing a marine needed. In fact, in his mind they did nothing but get in the way. As for honesty, he didn’t think Jessie really wanted him ex pressing his inner panic. No, giving in to fear never accomplished anything in his view.
“Blue needs to see signs of your love and affection,” Jessica continued. “Various ways of doing that are giving her hugs and kisses to congratulate her when she completes a difficult task, or to console her when she cries, or to comfort her when some thing hurts.”
“Is that what your father did for you?”
His question caught her by surprise. “No,” she quietly replied. “Quite the opposite.”
“Yet you seem to have turned out okay,” Curt pointed out.
“Appearances are deceiving.”
“So basically you’re telling me that if I don’t hug her at just the right time she’ll be screwed up for life? Gee, no pressure there.”
“I thought marines were used to dealing with pressure,” Jessica countered.
“Yeah, well, I still don’t think pa renting should be so complicated,” Curt grumbled.
“Stick around, soldier. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Jessica drawled with a grin.
Sucker punched. That’s how Curt felt. From nothing more than Jessie’s unexpectedly saucy smile. Ambushed by a woman with eyes so green they put sunlit leaves to shame.
Jeez, he was getting down right poetic here. A bad sign.
Or was it? Since when had being with an attractive woman been a crime? Since he’d become a dad probably.
But this was the best of both worlds. In Jessie he had a woman he was finding increasingly attractive, and a woman who knew how to take care of his daughter.
“I’s done,” Blue proudly announced from the bathroom. “I’s flushing now.”
“I’ve tried correcting Blue’s grammar,” Curt told Jessie, not wanting Jessie the Brain to think his kid was stupid.
“You don’t need to worry or to correct her each time. Instead you could just repeat the words yourself, perhaps say I am done cleaning the kitchen, so she’ll hear for herself how the words go together. It’s a natural progression as two- and three-year-olds start stringing words together, often mimicking what you say.”
“One of the reasons I now watch what I say around her,” Curt admitted.
“Good idea,” she replied.
Was the sunlight coming in through the window playing tricks or had that been a flash of at traction he’d just seen in her eyes? Curt wondered. Maybe Jessie had decided to stop holding a grudge against whatever it was he’d done back in high school.
Or maybe he was just imagining things.
He’d been on his own for so long that the thought of flirting with a pretty woman was enough to make his blood flow a little faster. This could get interesting, he decided with a sense of anticipation.
While Blue sat on the living room floor and played with her toys—an eclectic collection of trucks, dolls, and a well-worn teddy bear—Jessica put Curt through his paces.
“First things first,” she briskly told Curt. “Let’s begin with emergency first aid. How much do you know?”
“Enough to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” he drawled.
This sudden flash of the bad boy she’d known in high school caught Jessica by surprise. She’d let her guard down a bit and he’d snuck up on her with that comment.
Studying him provided suspiciously few clues as to what he was thinking. The teenage girl she’d been would have become flustered by his intense perusal of her mouth, but the woman she’d become ignored his provocative behavior.
Or tried to. She quizzed him on various possible scenarios that would require immediate medical attention. He had a pretty good basic knowledge, but needed specifics for pediatric care. And all the while her wayward heart kept beating a little faster. It certainly wasn’t because she found the topic of a first-aid check list exciting. No, it was because he’d given her a certain kind of look, the kind a man gave a woman he was interested in.
Things got worse when she handed him a refrigerator magnet with the toll-free number of the Poison Control Center on it. His fingers brushed hers and the resulting tingle of awareness traveled up her arm. A simple touch, a familiar reaction—but one she hadn’t experienced since her high school days.
Oh, there had been men in her life since then. And she’d felt at traction before. But not this spine-tingling current accompanied by a deep-felt recognition that this person’s touch felt right and deliciously wicked at the same time.
Flustered, she glanced down to consult her master list. “Uh, the next item on the agenda is mealtime.”
“Is there a reason we’ve gone from emergency first aid to food? Makes me think you’ve tasted my cooking,” Curt noted wryly.
It was hard not to smile. “What are you feeding Blue?”
“Candy and potato chips,” he replied mockingly.
At her startled look, he added, “What? That’s what you’re expecting, isn’t it? For me to fail.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? Then why are you treating me as if I were some raw recruit who didn’t know my…foot from a hole in the wall?”
“I’m sorry if you don’t approve of my teaching style,” she said stiffly. “I’m no expert at educating adults.”
“And I’m no expert at taking orders from a civilian, but you don’t see me complaining.”
“That’s because you’re the one who needs my help.”
“And you’re the one who offered that help,” he reminded her.
Offered? Pressed into duty was a more accurate description but she wasn’t about to quibble over se man tics. “I’m trying to help you, but it would be easier if you weren’t so stubborn and didn’t have such an attitude.”
“I’m not the one with the attitude, you are.”
“I am not,” she vehemently denied.
“Are so,” he taunted her.
“Am not!”
“Am not, am so, am not, am so, am not, am so,” Blue said in a singsong voice.
Startled at hearing herself mimicked, Jessica had to laugh. “We did sound like a couple of three-year-olds,” she noted ruefully.
“I am three,” Blue proudly stated, holding up three fingers. “This old.”
Jessica smiled down at her. The little girl was such a sweetie. “You certainly are.”
“What did you do to G.I. Joe?” Curt’s voice reflected his dismay.
“I made him pretty.” Blue held the action figure up to show off the large flowered hat she’d put on it.
“G.I. Joe doesn’t wear flowers,” Curt stated with emphatic outrage. “All the other G.I. Joes would laugh at him. Put his helmet back on.”
Blue looked at her father uncertainly before her big brown eyes slowly filled with tears.
“Jeeez.” Curt exhaled as if someone had just stomped on his foot, or maybe even his heart. “No crying. Big girls don’t cry.”
“Sure they do,” Jessica inserted. “It’s okay to feel sad, honey.” She scooped the little girl in her arms. “I think that G.I. Joe looks great in that hat.”
Blue sniffed and hid her face in Jessica’s neck. Which allowed Jessica to give Curt a look that would have scorched steel.
“Okay, big girls cry,” he allowed. “Some times. But a marine’s daughter doesn’t cry.” He reached over to awkwardly pat Blue once on the back. “You’re a marine kid now and you can…” He’d been about to say chew nails, but then he reconsidered the wisdom of that, knowing how Blue tended to take everything he said literally. “And you’re even more powerful than G.I. Joe. You’re tougher than other kids.”
Her tears stopped, and she held out her arms for Curt.
He took her, and his embrace was easier now than it had been when Jessica had first walked into the apartment. A second later Blue was giggling at Curt’s Three Stooges im per so nation. Or maybe he was making Jim Carrey-like funny faces. Whatever, it made Blue laugh.
“Come on, let’s show Jessie how you can put away some of these toys.” Lowering Blue, he pointed to the pile of toys his daughter had strewn around the living-room floor. “One, two, three, four,” he said in a softer version of a drill sergeant’s voice. “Get those toys off Daddy’s floor. Left, right, left, right. Move those trucks right out of sight.”
Jessica waited until later that afternoon, when Blue had finally tired herself out and fallen asleep to approach Curt on the subject of toughness.
“I’m amazed how she’s able to keep going as long as she does,” Curt noted from the doorway to Blue’s bedroom. His daughter was curled up on the bed, with her right arm around her teddy bear. G.I. Joe, minus the flowery hat, sat on her bedside table. “She was supposed to begin her nap at fourteen hundred hours. That was thirty minutes ago.”
Re turning to the living room with him, Jessica said, “Some times you have to be flexible. And you have to remember that she’s barely three years old. She’s a little girl, not a marine. A little girl who’s recently lost her mother.”
“I’m aware of that,” he said stiffly.
“Does Blue ever talk about her mother, about missing her?”
“She told me her mother is ‘upstairs in heaven’ and asked me if that made me sad.”
“And what did you tell her? That marines don’t get sad?”
He glared at her. He hadn’t put it exactly like that, but pretty close.
Jessica sighed, as if Curt’s gaffe was to be expected. “That might explain why she’s being so stoic about things. About not crying, about wanting to behave and not do anything wrong.”

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