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The Marine's Babies
Laura Marie Altom


Captain Jace Monroe goes from combat duty to daddy detail when twin babies in identical pink blankets are left on his doorstep.Suddenly the overwhelmed new father has a mission: rounding up a nanny for the daughters he hadn't known he had! Enter Emma Stewart. She's smart, beautiful…and a natural mother. What is Jace's new nanny not telling him? It takes no time for the infant girls to melt Emma's heart. But helping their sexy father make the transition from fun-loving bachelor to full-time dad requires some on-the-job training.To complicate things even more, Emma is falling for the marine. When Jace discovers her secret, he's surprised. And he wonders if Emma's growing feelings are about him–or just his babies?












His lips formed into a slow, sexy smile that threw her completely off balance


How was she supposed to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that? His lazy Southern drawl wasn’t helping much, either.

Beatrice grew fidgety.

Emma moved to get her, but Jace beat her to it. “You’ve had them all day,” Jace said. “Let me handle this for you.”

He held the baby awkwardly at arm’s length.

With an exasperated sigh, she said, “Let me.”

When the baby was quiet, she said, “You asked what you should do. For starters, you need to not be so afraid of them. They won’t break.”

“Who said I was afraid? I fight wars.”

“Great. As a U.S. citizen, I’m in awe of your sacrifice, but Jace, we’re not talking about battle, but babies. Here—”

She handed Bea right back to him.




Dear Reader,

My parents thought sixth grade was a little young for romance, but from my very first Harlequin novel, I was hooked on love! Real boys were okay, but they didn’t compare to Argentinean ranchers or Greek tycoons. In my teens I realized that not all real romances or jobs end happily ever after, which is why to this day Harlequin books are a staple in my life. The characters my favorite authors create might experience rough patches, but in the end, love sees them through.

From my first read, I dreamed of becoming a Harlequin author, and I proudly hang each new cover on my office wall. Though I started out devouring Harlequin Romance and Presents, I found my home at Harlequin American Romance after reading Elda Minger’s Teddy Bear Heir. American Romance has changed through the years. Fanciful paranormals and princess tales paved the way for the family stories that make up the line today. While the topics might have changed, thankfully the one constant at the heart of each Harlequin novel has remained the same—love.

Happy sixtieth birthday, Harlequin! You don’t look a day over twenty-nine!




Laura Marie




The Marine’s Babies

Laura Marie Altom
















ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Laura Marie Altom of Tulsa, Oklahoma, is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than two dozen books. Her works have made several appearances on both the Barnes & Noble and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. This mother of two boys and a girl—all currently in their “terrible teens”—has spoken on numerous occasions at both regional and national conferences, and teaches art at a local middle school. She’s been married to her college sweetheart for twenty years.


Terry, with all my heart I love you!

As for your noisy guitar…

Just kidding! Thanks for an amazing twenty years.

Here’s to many, many more!




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty




Chapter One


“This is a joke, right?” Captain Jace Monroe of the United States Marine Corps made a visual sweep of the pine forest flanking the main entrance and guard post of Olive, Alabama’s Camp Morgan. No lurking video crews from Punk’d or Candid Camera. In fact, for only six on a Monday night, the place was inordinately quiet, which made Jace all the more suspicious. “Whatever Granola paid you, I’ll double it if you’ll help flip this back around on him.”

“Granola?” The vaguely familiar blonde wrinkled her nose.

Two identical babies in carriers at her feet whimpered. Females, judging by the pink blankets, hats and miniature sandals.

“Don’t act like you don’t know him,” Jace said with a chuckle, glancing over his right shoulder to see if the guard on duty was having a good laugh. Oddly enough, the guy had missed the whole bit, focusing instead on paperwork. Whatever. Despite his pal’s best efforts to up him in the practical joke department, Granola had failed. Everyone knew if no one witnessed the stunt, it didn’t count.

“Jace?” The woman slid her oversized black sunglasses down her narrow nose. Eyes red and skin blotchy, she asked, “Don’t you remember? Our night in Mobile? How we ended up at that motel overlooking the bay? How you told the manager we were honeymooners, and he gave us a suite for no extra charge? Remember the Jacuzzi tub? The minibar? The chaise lounge out on the balcony?”

Lord, what a night. Heat roared through him like a well-aimed missile.

Air.

Where was all the damned air?

“V-Vicki?”

She exhaled sharply. “Thank goodness, you do remember.”

“Um, yeah,” he said, simultaneously shifting his weight from one leg to the other while running his hands over his buzzed hair. As an AH-1 Cobra pilot, his specialty was multi-tasking. What he wasn’t so great at was dealing with women, which was no doubt why his mouth was dry and his pulse was pounding harder than it had on his last combat run. “We halved an order of spaghetti and meatballs at like 2:00 a.m. I remember because you hogged all the garlic bread. I love garlic bread.”

Her faint smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “Yes, well, I wish all we had to discuss were your food preferences, but at the moment, there’s something more pressing on your proverbial plate.”

She eyeballed the squirming pink bundles at her feet.

He prayed she wasn’t heading where he feared she was.

“One baby, I probably could’ve handled on my own,” she said, “but two?” Sniffling, she shook her head. “I never thought I’d be the type to walk away from my own flesh and blood, but I’ve got college to finish and it takes two jobs to pay the bills. Do you have any idea how expensive babies are? Diapers and formula and clothes and the pediatrician. I can’t keep up, and they deserve better. I’m sorry, but since you’re their father, you’ll have to take over.”

“E-excuse me?” Blood rushed to Jace’s head.

“They’re yours now.” She looked away, her lips quivering.

It might not be manly, but Jace was seriously on the verge of passing out. “Wait a minute. How do I even know they’re mine?”

“Look at them. See anything familiar?”

The baby nearest him gummed her fist and cooed.

Kneeling in front of her carrier, Jace braced his hands on either side, staring into the infant’s striking green eyes.

His green eyes.

Vicki said, “Your gorgeous eyes were one of the first things that attracted me to you, Jace. I’d never seen such a brilliant shade on anyone—ever. That being the case, do you honestly think I slept with your long-lost twin the same weekend as you?”

“It could happen,” Jace mumbled.

Standing, he stared off into the pines, losing himself, if only for a moment, in the sight. The whoosh of wind through the boughs. Somewhere amongst the trees a woodpecker did his thing. The relatively normal sound struck him as being out of sync with his runaway pulse.

A few minutes earlier, he’d searched those woods for a video crew.

It felt like another lifetime ago.

“I’ve got to go,” Vicki said, aiming her key bob at her blue sedan’s trunk. It popped open, and she dragged out a case each of diapers and canned formula, dumping them on the blacktop parking area. Two cardboard boxes were next, followed by a yellow plastic tub heaped with toys, stuffed animals and rattles and rubber squeaky things that looked like the toys Granola bought for his golden retriever. “I’m sorry to take off like this but you’ll catch on soon enough.”

“You’re not really going to leave them with me? These are your kids.”

“Funny you should mention that,” she said with a wistful smile. “But seeing how they’re your kids, too, I thought it was high time you had a turn at raising them.”

Silent tears streaking her cheeks, she opened the vehicle’s driver’s-side door.

“You’re not seriously leaving them with me,” he repeated, more out of incredulity than not knowing what to say. She was their mother for God’s sake. Even if the kids were his—if—she’d carried them inside herself for nine long months. “What about maternal instinct?” he shouted when she’d shut and locked her door.

Revving the engine to life, she ignored his banging on the window. He tried opening the door latch, but it didn’t give.

“Vicki! Open the damned door!”

One baby began crying, then the other.

“Vicki!”

Sobbing now, she put the car in Reverse, shooting out of her parking space, narrowly avoiding the diapers.

“Stop!” he hollered above the racket of two wailing kids and her gunning the car’s engine. “Don’t do this! I don’t even know their names!”

Ignoring him, she bolted out of the lot and his life.



EMMA STEWART knelt to pluck a sand dollar from the foamy surf.

Cool Gulf water swirled around her toes, tickling, but not making her smile as it once had on long-ago vacations.

In the month since she’d rented the beach-front cabin, she’d collected one hundred and thirty-eight sand dollars. Some the size of half dollars, some dimes. One, with a tiny chip off the top, was as big around as a saucer.

Expression grim, she tucked her latest find among the shells, beach glass and driftwood already piled in the pink plastic sand bucket she’d found at Olive’s dollar store. As a fast-tracked foreign currency trader in the heart of Chicago, her legal tender had once been the Swedish kroner. Chinese yuan. Swiss francs. Now? Her days weren’t measured by financial successes, but she claimed a small victory if she managed to think about something—anything—other than the full life she’d once led.

Veering from the shore, she took the sandy path leading through sea oats, ground cherry and bluestem. The powdery, sunwarmed sand soothed her cold feet.

For June, the sea air was unusually crisp, layered with scents of salt and drying seaweed and the occasional whiff of coconut suntan oil from the bustling resort hotel a half mile up the beach. Speaking of which, it must be Reggae Tuesday, as, even at nine in the morning, the chirpy sound of steel drums rode the breeze.

She snatched the newspaper from the packed-sand driveway, and then mounted the fourteen steps leading to the deck. Mechanically, she set the kettle to boil, then popped a raisin bagel in the toaster.

While she waited for her breakfast, she turned off the central A/C and opened all of the windows, welcoming the fresh air. Having lived her whole life in Illinois, it’d been tough adjusting to the sometimes oppressive Alabama humidity and heat.

Bagel topped with cream cheese, orange spice tea loaded with honey, she sat at the breakfast-nook table, cracked open the paper, and then jumped upon hearing the phone’s shrill ring.

Swell.

Only one person aside from the kindly old couple she’d rented the home from even had the number. Emma frowned. Might as well go ahead and pick up. Once her mother started calling, she was relentless.

“Hi, Mom,” Emma said into the handset of the ancient rotary-dial phone, catching it on the fourth ring.

“Don’t you dare ‘hi, Mom,’ me. Do you know how long it’s been since Dad and I have heard from you? Would it kill you to at least get an answering machine? Angel, we know you’re still sad, but—”

“Sad?” Emma interjected. “Sad is when your college football team loses or your favorite sweater shrinks. I lost my son, Mom, then my husband. Sorry, but I think I’ve earned the right to spend a little quality time figuring out how to live the rest of my life.”

On the other end of the line, Emma’s mother didn’t even attempt to hide her sigh. “We know that what you went through with Henry was devastating, but at this point you only have a few options.”

“Oh?” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Emma tightly folded her arms.

“You either find a new man and start over…”

“Out of the question.”

“Borrow a baby. You know, sit for a neighbor.”

Drumming her fingers on the counter, Emma said, “That’ll make me feel just swell for a few hours.”

“Okay, then you adopt another child, then—”

“Please, stop. I lost my son. Henry wasn’t just a puppy, Mom. He’s not that easily replaced.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I lost a grandson. But you can’t spend the rest of your life walking the beach. After a while, your money will dry up, and you’ll have to—”

“I know,” Emma practically growled. “I get all of that. I just need time.”

“For what? We think there’s a part of you scared Rick might’ve been right. That you did have something to do with poor Henry dying, but sweetie, nothing could be further from the truth. Your father and I have discussed this at length, and truly feel the best way to help you through this is by helping you to find a way to prove not to the world, but to yourself, that you were—and still can be—an amazing mother.”

Drumming her fingers on the table, gazing past the tears in her eyes to the churning surf, through a throat nearly closed from grief, Emma said, “Mom, I have to go. I can’t do this.”

“Emma, I didn’t mean to upset you. But you’ve always been so vibrant. Holding down an impressive job while still keeping a lovely home, that we just—”

“Sorry, Mom—really—but I have to go.” Emma not only hung up the phone, but unplugged the cord from the wall jack.



“QUIT BEING STUBBORN, Jace, and try it again.”

Lips pressed tight, two days after Vicki’s abrupt arrival and departure from his life, Jace faced the task in front of him, and wished he were on a combat mission. Lord knew, it would’ve been easier than trying to get those damned sticky tabs lined up straight. He was having a tough enough time even telling which twin was which. Changing diapers was impossible.

He’d hired a PI to find Vicki, but the man hadn’t had much luck.

“Jace,” Granola’s wife, Pam, said with a not-so-gentle poke to his back. “Quit staring at Beatrice like she’s an alien, and get on with it before she catches a chill. Worse yet, before her sister wakes up.”

“Give me a sec,” he snapped. “This isn’t as easy as you say.” Was he supposed to add lotion, then powder? Or was it the other way around? Pam had six younger brothers and sisters, meaning she’d handled this sort of thing a lot. Jace was an only child. “Plus, she’s naked. I’ve never seen a naked baby before, and it’s kinda freaking me out.”

Pam gently shoved him out of the way. “You have to get a grip, Jace. The paternity-test results are due back tomorrow. What happens when you’re proven to be the twins’ father? I can’t stay here forever. I already have a husband.”

“You guys about done in there?” Granola hollered from the living room. “I really need some chow!”

Shaking her head and frowning, Pam easily diapered the baby, then dressed her in one of the pink jumpsuits Vicki had left, along with a brief note concerning their care and listing the girls’ names. Bronwyn had a freckle on the bottom of her left big toe. Other than that, the kiddos were identical.

“Men,” Pam grumbled, passing off Beatrice to him. “You’re impossible.”

Jace trailed her into the living room where Granola sat all comfy in Jace’s favorite recliner, watching his new plasma screen. “What the hell?”

“Language!” Pam snapped.

Jace rolled his eyes. “The kids can’t say more than ‘goo.’ How are they supposed to know what hell means?”

“I’ve had it—with both of you.” She pulled the lever on the recliner, forcing it upright.

“What the hell?” Granola said.

“Your wife’s out of control,” Jace mumbled.

“She’s also leaving,” Pam said, snatching up her purse then storming to the door. “Come on, William. If you’re so hungry, then you can take me out for dinner.”

“What about me?” Jace asked, eyeing the pink bundle squirming in his arms. “What happens when the other one starts crying? You haven’t left me alone with them since they got here, and—”

Pam glared. “And my back aches from sleeping on your sofa. Face it, Jace, sooner or later, you’re going to have to figure out this whole parenting thing.”

“Later works for me.”

“Come on,” Pam said, dragging Granola by his desert-camo shirtsleeve. To Jace, she said, “When we’ve finished dinner, we’ll stop by to check on you and get our stuff. After that, you’re on your own.”



FRIDAY MORNING, following her breakfast routine, Emma walked the beach. Summer heat had set in. Even at nine in the morning, humidity made the air feel thick to breathe. The Gulf was glassy, the usual churning surf little more than a slap on the sand. Despite the climbing temperature, Emma walked and walked, cooling her feet in the water, doing her best to ignore the sun beating down on her head.

As she neared the resort-style hotel, the fifties-era pop that she’d heard faintly at her house became loud enough for her to recognize Elvis.

She’d never been all the way to the hotel, but today, drawn by children’s laughter, she kept walking. Heart pounding, she strode past hotel employees setting out white beach chairs and red umbrellas along the powdered-sand shore. She mounted wide, whitewashed steps leading to the wooden boardwalk guests used to traverse the low dunes.

At the boardwalk’s end, paradise awaited. Majestic palms circled a free-form pool featuring a two-story rock waterfall and a slide on one end, and a swim-up bar on the other. From hidden speakers, Johnny Mathis crooned, and now she was close enough to hear every word. Red hibiscus and cannas lined winding, sun-bleached brick paths leading to tennis courts and mini-golf courses.

The air smelled of coffee from an outdoor dining patio, chlorine from the pool and decades of sun-baked tanning lotions and oils.

While the children’s laughter grew ever closer, Emma still hadn’t found them. On and on she searched, alarmed to find herself almost frantic. She had to see them—just to watch from afar. To give voice to such a thought would make her a psych-ward candidate, but since she didn’t plan on telling anyone, she increased her speed. Private, Southern-mansion-style villas circled the grand hotel. The buildings were all white, making the foliage all the more vibrant. Palms were now mixed with ferns and magnolias and red impatiens for added color.

A couple holding hands approached.

Lowering her gaze, Emma didn’t look at them as they passed by.

The laughter became distinct enough that she could pick out individual pitches, and Emma hastened all the more. Rounding the next bend, she nearly crashed into a maid and her cart. She said a hasty, “Excuse me,” before barreling on.

And then suddenly, there it was—a separate, shallow pool filled with toddlers and moms and dads. A few of the mothers held infants for what looked to be a swim lesson being taught by an animated young man and woman dressed in dolphin costumes.

Easing onto a red chaise lounge, Emma stared, enraptured by the sight of so many happy families. Had she really once been one of these people? Laughing and enjoying life? It seemed inconceivable.

“Pardon me,” a sunburned redhead said, jolting Emma from her thoughts, “but would you mind taking a quick family shot?” She held out a green disposable camera.

“Um, sure…” Rising, willing her trembling hands to still, Emma forced a deep breath. The woman held a redheaded infant wearing primary-colored swim trunks and a blue hat. The man beside her carried a bulging diaper bag and a squirming toddler.

“Daddy, down!” shrieked the carrot-topped little girl. “I want fish!” She pointed to the costumed instructors.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said while the girl continued to fuss. “If I’d known Mary was going to be difficult, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s all right,” Emma said, “take as long as you want.” I could stand here looking at your son forever, imagining the fun Henry and I might’ve shared.

“Thanks. I hate wasting a single shot,” she said, tickling the girl. “We went off and left our digital camera at home. It’s scary how dependent you get on being able to take hundreds of pictures of your kids.”

Throat too tight to speak, Emma smiled and nodded.

“Okay, I think we’re ready. Smile, silly rabbit!”

Emma snapped the shot, but just at that moment, the curly-haired toddler bucked, sending the diaper bag into the pool.

“My wallet and Mary’s asthma medicine are in there!” the woman shrieked.

Hurtling to action, the father set down Mary, then jumped in after the bag. Mary took off after him, yelling, “Fish! Fish!”

“She can’t swim!” Mary’s mother screamed. Before Emma even realized what was happening, the woman had thrust her infant son into Emma’s arms, and then leapt into the pool.

The entire incident took mere seconds. From the outside, the scene had been so unremarkable, no one from the splashing, shrieking swim class had even noticed.

Mary was safe.

The bag, medicine and wallet were still fairly dry.

Emma, meanwhile, holding a baby boy who was larger than her son had ever grown to be, felt in danger of fainting. But she wouldn’t, because she’d rather put herself in jeopardy than a precious child. Grief squeezed her chest, making air a rarity in her lungs.

“Thank you so much,” Mary’s soggy mother said, her daughter safely in her arms. “I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t been here.”

“S-someone else would’ve helped,” Emma reasoned, inhaling the infant’s sweet scent. Lotion and baby shampoo. It all came rushing back. How Henry had smelled right out of the tub, giggling when she tickled his belly while wrapping him in a fluffy, giraffe-patterned hooded towel.

“Regardless,” the man said, “how about we at least buy you a coffee or tea? Maybe one of those frilly, flowery drinks?”

“Really,” Emma said, fighting with everything in her not to cry, as she passed the infant to his father. Never would she give in to the insane voice telling her to run off and never let the baby go. “I’m good.”

“Sure?” the man asked. “We could flag down a waiter and have him put something on our bill for you to enjoy later.”

“Oh, let’s do that,” the woman said. “What’s your room number?” she asked Emma. “We’ll stop by the concierge’s desk and buy you and your husband lunch and fruity drinks.”

Husband? Emma glanced at her left-hand ring finger and realized she had yet to remove her thin, gold band.

“Thank you,” Emma said, pulse racing, already backing down the path leading from the children’s pool, “but I have to go. I’m late. Terribly late.” I should’ve been back at my safe, quiet house an hour ago. There, I never would’ve had my heart broken all over again.



FRIDAY NIGHT, both babies finally asleep, Jace leaned his forehead against the makeshift nursery’s window, squeezing his eyes shut. The paternity test had proven with 99.99 percent certainty that Beatrice and Bronwyn were his. The gravity of that knowledge weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He was thankful that Pam had gotten over being angry at him and had been great about helping out, but, like it or not, it was time to face facts. He was a father.

Straightening, rubbing his whisker-stubbled jaw, Jace sighed.

His commanding officer had been considerate, giving him the rest of the week off to take care of business. Jace had placed an ad for a nanny. He’d rounded up used cribs and a changing table from a few of the guys. He’d stocked up on diapers and formula and a playpen. He’d mastered diaper-changing and could at least get the crew fed and clean, but what next? He was floundering and knew it. Not a good feeling for a guy trained to handle any situation, no matter how dire, in a calm, rational manner. He didn’t panic—ever. Not even in the heat of battle. So why now, gazing at two snoozing babies, did his heart feel ready to pound out of his chest?



IN THE last few days, Emma had done a lot of soul-searching. Sunday morning, strolling along the shore, plucking shells from the sand, she kept dwelling on what had happened at the resort. Holding that baby boy had felt so right. It had returned her to a time and place when her life had been perfect. It had shown her that as much as she hated to admit it, maybe her mother had been right. Not now, but soon, she needed to get a grip.

A slight breeze stirred the muggy air, carrying with it the briny scents of the sea.

Pausing, staring out at the horizon, Emma crossed her arms, wishing the omnipresent knot in her stomach would go away. Ever since she’d held the infant, she hadn’t been able to put her latest conversation with her mother from her mind. Like a recording, her mother’s voice repeated options to help Emma take back her life.

Marry again.

Adopt.

Borrow.

Of course, the first and third options were ludicrous. The last thing Emma needed or wanted in her life was another man. And who in their right mind would let Emma borrow their infant just so that she could prove to herself she was a good mother? Adoption could be a possible road back to motherhood, but not for an awfully long time.

Emma’s own mom had been right; Henry’s death hadn’t been Emma’s fault. In her mind, Emma had no problem realizing that. It was her heart that didn’t believe it. It was her heart that had been irreparably damaged by Rick’s unfathomably cruel accusations.

Hot and annoyed by the day’s oppressive heat, Emma trudged back to her house. She didn’t bother counting her few finds, choosing instead to leave them in their pink bucket, at the base of the steps.

She went through the motions of fixing herself a bagel, but since she wasn’t the least bit hungry, she left her meal on the counter in favor of opening the newspaper she’d brought in earlier.

Sipping hot tea that was only making her hotter, Emma skimmed local and national headlines—frustrating.

Entertainment news—boring.

Birth announcements—depressing.

In the classifieds, an ad for free puppies caught her eye. After the divorce, all of her friends had advised her to get a dog. But something inside feared mothering a beagle wouldn’t be enough.

She’d finished half of her tea when something else snagged her attention:

Marine dad desperately seeking

live-in help for infant twins…

Borrow a baby, her mother whispered in Emma’s head.

The very notion of taking a job that would, in a sense, allow her do just such a thing—borrow a baby—caused her hand to tremble so badly that tea sloshed over the lip of her mug. When the liquid pooled on the newspaper, she frantically dabbed at the mess.

Dare she call the number? What if she got the job? Worse yet, her heart cried, what if she didn’t?




Chapter Two


“Um, Becca,” Jace said, forcing himself to meet the Goth girl’s dark-shadowed eyes. Though it was only early Monday afternoon, his exhaustion level made it feel closer to midnight. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me, but I’m thinking I may need someone with a little more experience.” Not to mention, fewer piercings!

“But I’ve got five younger brothers and sisters. And I just got evicted from my apartment, so I could really get into the whole sleepover aspect of this gig. Ready to talk money?” Kicking back on the sofa, she slipped off black flip-flops before putting her feet on the coffee table. Granted, he sat like that nine times a day, but it was his place. “Comfy,” she said, crossing her legs at the ankles. “Yeah, this is gonna work out fine.”

What worked for Jace was booting this applicant to the curb.

With one more interview to go, he spent the next thirty minutes reacquainting himself with the sticky tabs on the babies’ diapers. Though he’d been with them a week—and now faced the reality of being their father every second of every day—Jace still couldn’t fully wrap his head around the situation.

Just yesterday, the PI had informed him that Vicki had, for all practical purposes, vanished, meaning, Jace didn’t have any option other than to step up.

“Okay, kiddos,” Jace said upon finishing his task. “You’re good to go for at least another couple of hours.” Until Vicki could be found, he’d finished setting up his home office to double as a nursery. He felt bad about its plainness. Beige walls and a do-it-yourself computer station that leaned to the left. The cribs and changing table had been borrowed from fellow Apache pilot, Morris “Birdman” Harlow. He had three girls and one boy and all the gear that went along with them.

From their carriers, the babies stared up at him.

He stared back.

They were cute, he’d give them that, but what was he supposed to do with them? In the Marine Corps, there was a manual for everything. This whole father thing? Complete and utter mystery.

The baby nearest him cooed.

Kneeling in front of her, he touched the palm of her tiny hand with his pinkie. She curled her fingers around it, drawing it to her bow-shaped mouth to slobber.

“Hey,” he said with a laugh. “Do I look like a chew toy?”

Seeing how she kept right on gnawing, apparently, yes, he did resemble a giant teething ring. And her mini fangs were sharp!

After freeing himself, Jace grabbed a carrier in each hand, hauling them to the living room. He wanted to see how the next applicant interacted with the girls. Just because he didn’t have a clue how to be a father, didn’t mean he didn’t expect the highest level of professionalism from whomever he entrusted with the twins’ care.

He’d grabbed a Coke from the fridge when the doorbell rang.

Leaving his can on the counter, he jogged to the front hall, praying this woman was The One.



WAITING FOR her potential employer to open his door, Emma wasn’t sure what she felt. Nervousness. Worry that emotionally she had no business taking on such a task. Fear that if she didn’t get the job, she’d drown in loneliness and self-doubt. If she were given the responsibility of looking after this man’s babies, she wouldn’t just be working, but proving to herself that she’d been a wonderful mother. In doing that, she wouldn’t erase her grief over having lost Henry, but she would exorcise the demons Rick had created.

Inching her purse higher on her shoulder, she forced a deep breath.

The redbrick house’s front porch appeared as forlorn as she felt. Lining the two steps were three green plastic pots holding wilted flowers. Dust coated a porch swing as well as paned windows in need of a good scrubbing. The dandelion-strewn yard needed mowing. Any annuals adorning the flower bed had been choked out by weeds.

The door burst open, and there stood a broad-shouldered Marine, who’d presumably placed the ad. “Hey,” he said, holding open the door with one hand while shaking her hand with the other, “You must be Emma.”

“Yes,” she said, instantly at ease at her first sight of the man’s easy, white-toothed smile. He wasn’t handsome. Not in the conventional sense. His nose was slightly off kilter, as though it might have once been broken. A strong jaw held at least two days’ stubble. Like any good jarhead, his dark hair consisted of little more than short spikes. But then there were his eyes. Amazing green eyes that drew her in.

“I’m Jace. Please, come in.” Stepping onto the porch, he held open the door, gesturing her inside. “Have a seat. The place is an embarrassing mess. I usually run a tight ship, but I’m new to this whole baby thing.”

“Oh?” she asked, eyeing a white plastic laundry tub, brimming with tiny pastel apparel. The coffee table was littered with how-to-raise-baby books, rattles and disposable bottles. In the middle of it all, lounging on a fuzzy pink blanket were two gorgeous infants.

“The thing is,” he said, “I kind of—”

“Look at you…” Emma didn’t mean to be rude in ignoring her potential employer, but his babies were—Her throat swelled and her eyes welled with tears.

Since her loss, she’d avoided babies. Baby aisles. Baby magazine and TV ads. The pain was still too raw. But on Friday, having had a stranger’s infant thrust into her arms, something inside her had snapped. She could no longer avoid her pain. In that instant, she’d realized that if she were ever to regain even a portion of her former self, she’d have to face that gnawing emptiness head-on. Small steps. First, “borrowing” an infant, in this case, two, then maybe, if heaven were on her side, she’d be ready to live again fully.

Reaching for the nearest baby, scooping her into her arms, Emma lost herself in the angel’s sweet smell. She stroked downy-soft hair, deeply inhaled of baby shampoo and lotion and even the faint, clean, unmistakable scent of a freshly changed diaper.

“Um, you okay?”

Turning her back to the baby’s father, Emma pulled herself together. “Sure…” Heart shattering, Emma held the baby close. Henry, you’re back in my arms. Safe. Mommy’s here, my love.

“Do you need something to drink? Coke? Water?” The man’s hovering alerted her to the fact that if she didn’t want to end up alone back at her beach house, she’d better snap out of it. Of course, she realized this baby—even two babies—couldn’t take the place of her dear son, but if only for a moment, her pain had been eased. Her endless questions—why? What had she done wrong? Given a second chance, could she have saved her baby boy?—answered “I’ve probably got milk, too. But I’m not a big fan, so it might be spoiled.”

“Thank you,” she said, spinning to face him. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” he said, instantly reddening. “Sorry. That came out wrong. You look fine. Compared to my last candidate, you’re amazing. Tears and all. Only…” Almost cautiously, he approached, holding out his arms for the baby girl she held. “I’ve gotta say, I am curious what it is about my interview skills, or lack thereof, that has you crying.”

“Sorry,” she said with a sniffle, passing off the infant, stiffening when the Marine’s fingers brushed hers. “You must think I’m nuts. But your little one reminds me of…someone I used to know.”

“Sure,” he said, though his puzzled expression clearly stated that, yes, he did find her to be at least somewhat off her rocker.

“What are their names?”

“The girls?”

“Yes,” she said with a faint smile. “Unless you have cats and dogs, as well?”

“Nah,” he said, scooping up the other baby, and then settling into an oversized recliner with both infants. “Truth is, I couldn’t handle much more.”

Following his lead, she eased onto a brown leather sofa. “So, their names?” she repeated.

“Right. One is Beatrice. The other is Bronwyn. Only way to tell is by the freckle on Bron’s big toe.”

“Oh.” Emma wondered why the marine sounded so detached, as if he was reading a dishwasher-repair manual. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, where’s their mother?”

Repositioning himself, he said, “Here’s the part where you’ll think I’ve sniffed too much napalm, but truth is, I don’t have a clue.” After relaying the fantastic story of how the twins had been thrust into his life, he added, “The pediatrician I took them to gave them a clean bill of health.”

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.

“Without a last name, I’m not even sure where to start. We’ve exhausted all easy leads.”

Jace said nothing, just silently fumed.

“With the Internet, you’d be amazed at what you can do. These days, disappearing is no big deal.”

“Great,” Jace mumbled.

“I really am sorry. You think of anything we can use to identify her—anything at all—give me a ring. Night or day.”

Having turned off his cell, Jace plucked a blossom from the honeysuckle vine. As a kid, growing up in Kentucky, he and his friends used to yank out the stamens, sucking at the sweetness. Life had been simple then. Carefree. Now, everything was a mess. He wasn’t sure where to turn.

An image flashed before his mind’s eye. Emma.

Maybe she’d know how he was supposed to be a real father to his girls when there were times he still felt like a kid himself.



“JACE?” Hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun, Emma realized it was him jogging toward her from the opposite end of his neighborhood park’s walking trail. Though the redbrick homes comprising the base’s residential sector all looked alike with their rectangular shapes and boxy front porches, the base as a whole had a kind of tranquility due in large part to the abundance of trees: pines and magnolias and ancient live oaks drizzled in Spanish moss.

“Hey,” he said, out of breath and bending at his waist to brace his hands on his knees. He wore the same uniform as he had the day before, only this time his desert-beige T-shirt clung to his chest from sweat. She’d known he had a powerful build, but when he straightened to his full height, something about seeing him in broad daylight made her mouth go dry. “When I saw you and the little ladies weren’t home, but your car was, I took a gamble you might be here.”

“Is that all right?” she asked. “It’s only three o’clock. If I’d known you planned on being home this early, I would have—”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I snuck out.”

“Why? Everything okay?” He wasn’t replacing her, was he?

“Yeah. On the job anyway.” He walked a short distance down the azalea-lined trail to park himself on a wooden bench. A light breeze rustled the Spanish moss. “Have a seat,” he said, patting the space beside him. “There’s something I want to run by you.”

Pulse erratic, she pulled the stroller off the trail, making sure the twins’ faces were in the shade, and then did as Jace had asked. Not only was it awkward being so close to him, but his unreadable tone had her worrying she’d done something wrong.

He asked, “Why are you all of a sudden so wide-eyed?”

“I don’t know,” she said, smoothing the folds of her lightweight floral cotton skirt. The day was hot, and sweat and his direct question had her pink tank top clinging in places she’d rather it would not. Truth was, today had been even better than yesterday, and she wasn’t anywhere near ready to give up the babies. Was he firing her? Had he found alternative arrangements?

“You look like someone just ran off with your ice cream cone.”

“Oh?” She cast him a faint smile.

“Relax,” he urged with a gentle shoulder nudge. “Your life can’t be anywhere near as complicated as mine.”

Wanna bet?

“Anyway, it’s like this…” He relayed his conversation with his PI, then arched his head back and sighed. “You can’t imagine how freaked out I was, hearing that the guy had no more leads. Then, making matters worse, all of my buddies had no love.”

“Love?” Emma wrinkled her nose.

“They couldn’t have cared less. Hell, one of them even came right out and said that if I’d ever just stick with one woman, this wouldn’t even have happened. Which, if you ask me, was a seriously wrong thing to say, considering what the last woman I thought I loved put me through.”

Interesting. She wouldn’t have thought a happy-go-lucky sort like Jace would have relationship issues. But then, she’d never thought her own marriage would end in a nasty divorce.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she said, “but what does any of this have to do with me?” Because honestly, all she wanted from this job was a chance to prove herself as a mother. Yet the longer she sat alongside Jace, studying the sweat rivulet grazing his temple, the harder it was not to brush it gently away.

“Technically, nothing.” He angled still closer, landing his camo-covered thigh against hers. “But I’m glad you asked the question, because nutty as it sounds, at the height of my rage over Vicki, the only person I could think to come to for advice was you. Here I barely even know you, but judging by how the babies instantly took a liking to you, you seem like a trustworthy gal.”

Gal?

“All of my friends are too close. I need an outsider’s view on this whole mess. That’s where you come in.”

“For starters,” she said, inching away from him to give herself room to think, “suddenly having two gorgeous, healthy babies land on your lap is far from a mess, but more in the realm of blessing. Second, if you’re looking for me to give you absolution—as though you’re the innocent in all of this, you’ve come to the wrong person.”

“Damn.” His lips turned into a slow, sexy smile that threw her completely off balance. How was she supposed to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that? His lazy Southern drawl wasn’t helping much, either. “You’ve got a temper like a riled-up drill sergeant.”

Beatrice grew fidgety.

Emma moved to get her, but Jace beat her to it. “You’ve had them all day,” he said. “Let me handle this for you.” He held the baby a little too far away. In her short time with Henry, she’d learned that babies like to snuggle as close as possible. They like to feel sheltered. And apparently, since the baby was growing ever more fitful, Jace wasn’t doing such a great job.

With an exasperated sigh, she said, “Let me.”

The baby quiet, she said, “You asked what you should do, and though this may not be what you want to hear, for starters, you need to be not so afraid of them. They won’t break.”

“Who said I was afraid? I fight wars.”

“Great. As a U.S. citizen, I’m in awe of your sacrifice, but Jace, we’re not talking about battle. We’re talking about babies. Here—” She handed Bea right back to him.

He held the squirming infant like a cross between a priceless porcelain vase and a net filled with smelly, wriggling fish.

“First, really hold her. Babies need to feel your heartbeat. At her current distance from you, she probably can’t even tell who you are.”

“Like this?” He scooted forward on the park bench, giving himself room to lean back. He rested Bea on his chest, but didn’t wrap his arms around her.

“Not at all,” Emma chastised. “Hold her like you mean it. That’s how she knows she’s loved.”

“Huh?” He scowled while making a few obligatory pats.

“Let’s try it another way. When you were a kid, did you ever have a favorite pet?”

“My hamster, Buzzy.”

“Great. So how did you hold him?”

“I stuck him in my hoodie pocket.” He grinned.

Emma frowned.

Licking her lips, trying with everything in her to be patient, she said, “How would you hold a woman? Someone you genuinely care about?”

“Hell…” He scratched his head. “It’s been a while. And anyway, what does holding a baby have to do with a girlfriend?”

“Technically, nothing. But inside, everything. It’s the same general idea in that the way you hold someone shows how you feel about them. Don’t you think that when you hold Bea in a standoffish way, she can tell you don’t like her?”

“Hey,” Jace said, straightening into a defensive pose. “She’s my kid. Of course I like her.”

“I know. All I’m saying is that you should display your affection not just through words, but actions. Like this.” Leaning close enough to Jace that she caught the leathery scent of his masculine deodorant and soap, she gently positioned Bea against the natural curve of Jace’s chest. She next urged his arms around the infant so that rather than merely supporting her, he held her. Sheltered her. Gave her the security a baby girl deserved from her father.

“Wow,” he said, nuzzling the crown of Bea’s head. “I get it. That really does make a difference. It feels like she’s connected to me.”

“See?” Emma said, heart swelling. All too well, she remembered holding Henry close. Feeling that as long as she held him he’d feel safe and loved. “I told you so.”

“And I’ve gotta say that this is one time I don’t mind being put in my place. Thanks.” Jace smiled, and the sincerity behind his eyes stole Emma’s breath.

In that instant, not only had Jace connected with Bea, but with Emma, and the realization was somehow exhilarating and appalling.

Sharply, Emma looked away.

“I was just thinking,” he said, “since I’m home early, we might—”

“Sorry,” she said, standing, “but I just remembered that I have an appointment. Think you can handle getting the girls home on your own?”

“Yeah, but—”

Fighting a queer tightness in her throat, a panicky need to be free of his piercing green stare, she started off down the winding trail. “Really, I have to go.”




Chapter Four


“Son,” Jace’s mom said that night on the phone from her RV campground in Maine. She and his dad had been touring the east coast all summer, but if you asked Jace’s opinion, it was past time they hightailed it home. “I wish I could tell you what to do, but you’re a grown man, capable of getting yourself into huge messes, and I pray to God every day that you’re equally as capable of getting yourself out.”

“That’s just it, Mom, this isn’t my ordinary mess. Those I can fly or sweet talk my way out of, but this…”

She laughed. “For this, you’re going to have to use your heart.”

He wasn’t going to dignify that with a comment.

“Once you find this Vicki woman—and you will—swallow your pride and marry her. The rest will work itself out.”

“M-marry her? She abandoned her own kids! Why would I want to live the rest of my life with a woman like that?”

“Man up, Jace. That’s what Oprah would say.”

Jace rolled his eyes. Great. Looks like his mom had a new favorite afternoon show. Whatever happened to her quoting The Young and the Restless? “Mom, how about putting Dad on the phone?”

“He’s off sailing with our new friends, Ed and Louise. They have the sweetest little boat moored in Bar Harbor.”

Swell.

“You were always a stubborn, strong-willed child, Jace, but this is one time when you need to put aside what you think about this whole matter, and surrender to what you feel.”

After hanging up, Jace realized he should have stayed on the line, asking his mom why he couldn’t seem to figure out exactly what he felt.

That afternoon, in the park with Emma, when she’d shown him how to hold Bea properly, for a split second an unfamiliar warmth had crept through him. But then Emma had left, and so had his warm-and-fuzzies.

He knew in his head that he was a father. That he’d suddenly been thrust into a role of responsibility larger than anything else with which he’d been charged. So what was wrong with him that he couldn’t connect that knowledge with his heart?



“GOOD MORNING.” At five-thirty the next morning, Jace opened his front door to a dark, pouring rain, and a soggy Emma.

Thunder rolled.

Taking her umbrella, then ushering her inside, he said, “Did you make it to your appointment?”

“My what?” Emma set down her purse, and then shrugged out of her yellow raincoat, hanging it dripping on the hook beside the door.

“Yesterday, when you left the park, you said you had an appointment.”

“Oh.” She looked away. “I forgot.”

“Why’d you lie to me, Em? Why the rush to get away?”

“First, my name’s Emma, and second, I…” As if utterly spent, she crumpled onto the sofa. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have to be anywhere. I just couldn’t be around you any longer.”

Jace winced. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Please don’t fire me.”

“Fire you?” Grabbing his cell phone from a charger, he parked alongside her, checking for messages. “Why would I do that?”

“For lying.”

“Then you admit it?”

“Again, I’m sorry.” She had a funny look on her face. As if she wanted to say more, but wouldn’t. “I, um, was having female problems.”

“Whoa—” Turning all of his attention to rummaging through his flight bag, he said, “say no more. That’s all I needed to hear.” Plus, he was damned glad she hadn’t been ticked at him. His track record with women wasn’t all that great, and he sure as hell didn’t need to lose his girls’ nanny this soon into her tenure.

“Want something to eat before you head out into this nasty weather?”

“What about your, er, problems? Because with those sorts of—you know…” He flopped his hands on his lap, gesturing to where her general womanly region would be. “Well, I don’t want you overdoing it.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Promise. You go ahead and finish getting ready, and I’ll whip something up.”



MAKING BREAKFAST, Emma was almost quivery with relief. Just up and taking off the previous afternoon hadn’t been a smooth move. What if she’d been fired?

“Smells good,” Jace said fresh from the shower.

He hadn’t yet put on his shirt, and moisture still clung to the dark hair on his chest. Emma’s stomach returned to fluttering, only this time, it had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with Jace’s proximity. “I, um, hope you like it.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, thank you. Everything’s just about done.” Easing his three fried eggs onto a plate, she asked, “How did the girls sleep?”

“Great. I was only up once, which is a record since their arrival.”

“I figured introducing solid food would help. But then for all we know, they’ve been used to it.” She buttered his toast, and then eased four strips of bacon alongside his eggs. Setting the plate and utensils in front of him, she asked, “Anything else before I check on the babies?”

“Yes.” He stood, walked to the cabinet to grab an extra plate, fork and napkin, and then pulled out the chair alongside him. “Join me. The last thing I intended when hiring you was for you to be my own personal serving wench.”

“I know,” she said, fidgeting her hands along the seat back of the nearest chair. “But I don’t feel comfortable sharing a meal with you.”

“Why?” he asked, already divvying up the food. “Because yesterday, in the park, I thought we’d had a connection.”

“That was different,” she bristled.

“How so?” He dug into his portion of the meal.

“We were discussing parenting. Sharing a meal would be…different.”

Shaking his head, he laughed. “You’re a tough one to read, Emma Stewart. Please, sit. Promise, I won’t bite a thing besides my food.”

She sat, but didn’t like it. The man was too playful for her tastes.

He shoved her plate and fork toward her. “Try some. It’s good.”

“I usually just have a bagel for breakfast.”

“That’s why you’re so skinny.” He helped himself to a piece of her toast. “Ask me, a woman needs meat on her bones. Something for a man to hang on to.”

Her mind’s eye focused on an image of him spooning her. How it might feel being cocooned by his strength. Heat flamed her cheeks. She hastily feigned interest in her food.

“I’m not too skinny,” she snapped. “There’s no such thing.”

“Think what you want, but trust me, you’re a decent-looking woman. If you’d pack a little junk in your trunk, I’ll bet you wouldn’t be able to keep guys away.”

Momentarily stunned, she just sat gaping at him. “Please tell me you didn’t say what you just said.”

He shrugged, and then calmly forked the last bite of his eggs. “In my line of work, I might die tomorrow. I believe in calling it like I see it.”

“Yes, well, I believe this conversation is out of line.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, blinding her with that slow, sexy grin. “My bad. You already have a guy, don’t you? Since you don’t wear a ring, I assumed you were single, but—”

Since her incident at the hotel, she’d permanently removed her wedding ring.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I am single. And I intend to stay that way.” Pushing her chair back, she stood. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do what I was hired for, and check on the babies.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jace said, sending her a playful salute.



“QUESTION,” Jace asked Granola the next morning while performing his helicopter’s flight check. The previous day’s storms had burned off, leaving clear skies with unlimited visibility. Wind out of the south at ten knots.

“Shoot,” Granola said, voice muffled into his flight helmet’s microphone.

“You know this nanny I’ve hired?”

“Yeah. Altitude two-two-zero reached.”

“Check. One-two-zero K-T-A-S reached. No unusual vibrations. Control position normal.” Jace confirmed the maneuver area was clear before launching the next portion of the test. “She’s a sharp cookie. Cute, too.”

“No rotor instability,” Granola said when Jace had finished his portion of the test. “You thinking of asking her out?”

“No way. Wouldn’t she be morally off limits?” Jace initiated a climb.

“I don’t see why. Control positioning check.”

Grunting, Jace performed a series of left-and right-bank angle turns. As expected, everything checked out fine. Returning to base at normal cruising altitude, Jace said, “She used to be some kind of financial guru. She’s not married and she doesn’t have kids, but damn, does she know her way around babies.”

Granola suggested, “Maybe, like Pam, she grew up in a big family?”

“Maybe.”

“You ever think of asking her all of this instead of me?”

“S’pose I could,” Jace said, banking left, “but she’s kind of frosty.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes she just rubs me the wrong way. Like she expects me to be something I’m not.”

“Like a father?” Granola asked.

“Think you’re funny, do you?” Jace threw the helicopter into a hard and fast sixty-degree bank.



“MOM,” Emma said into her cell while filling her Volvo’s empty gas tank. “I promise I’m fine. Happy even.” The twins were strapped into their safety seats with the front windows down, so the air inside the vehicle didn’t get too hot.

“That’s quite a change from the last time we talked. When I told you to get on with your life, I was hoping for that to happen sometime over the next few months. Not in a few days.”

“What can I say? An opportunity came up, and I went for it. I’ve always loved children. You were the one who told me I should borrow some. So, that’s essentially what I did.”

“Great. For once you actually followed my advice. But honey, gauging your happiness level, somewhere along the line you’ve forgotten these aren’t your children.” Her mother’s insinuation that Emma somehow didn’t already understand this fact was insulting. “Plus, you don’t even know the man you’re working for. What if he’s some kind of deviant?”

Topping off the tank, Emma sighed. “He’s not a deviant, Mom. He’s a Marine. I seriously doubt any guy the U.S. Marine Corps trusts with a multi-million-dollar piece of equipment is going to go Hannibal Lecter on me.”

“I didn’t say he was, honey, only that I’m worried about you. Just a week ago, you were so deep into your own thoughts you could hardly carry a normal conversation. Now, you’re all of a sudden healed. Don’t you think I should be concerned?”

What Emma thought was that her mom should mind her own business.

Emma said her goodbyes, grabbed her receipt from the pump and then climbed back behind the wheel of her car.

Beatrice was cranky—had been all through their trip to the grocery store—and was fitfully crying. “We’re on our way home, ladybug,” she soothed, checking on her in the rearview mirror.

She popped a sing-along children’s disc into the CD player, and turned the volume to High.

Bronwyn, at least, happily kicked and cooed.

At the house, Emma made quick work of unloading the babies, then the groceries. Bronwyn seemed content on a pink quilt on the living room carpet, lying on her back, grinning at the mirror and dangling shapes on her baby gym. Beatrice, however, wasn’t so easily amused.

After trying a bottle, baby-food peaches and pears, a diaper change and burping, Emma settled for good old-fashioned rocking in Jace’s navy leather recliner.

Cradling her close, tucking Beatrice’s head beneath her chin, Emma sang softly. “Hush little baby, don’t you cry, Momma’s gonna sing you a lullaby…”

Soon enough, Beatrice had calmed, and then fallen asleep. Lots of times when Henry had been cranky, Emma had found that nothing but human contact soothed. Emma guessed it worked for grown-ups, too, since she had isolated herself from family and friends up north, but still hadn’t found solace. Yet here, now, with two infants and an oftentimes infuriating lug of a Marine, she truly was feeling better than she had in months.

No matter what her mother might think!

Since it was nearing six, Emma knew she should start dinner, but she hated to disturb the baby, who had finally fallen asleep.

A key sounded in the front-door lock, and in walked Jace, wearing his usual grin. His complexion looked sun-kissed, as if he’d spent the day outdoors. “Hey,” he said, setting his flight bag on the tiled entry floor. “How’re my girls?”

“Better now,” Emma said, her voice soft so as not to wake Beatrice. “This one’s had a rough day.”

“She’s not sick is she?” Jace crossed the short distance to the recliner, kneeling alongside it, putting his hand on the infant’s forehead. “She doesn’t feel hot.”

“No. Maybe she just misses her mom. I suppose it’s only natural.”

Jace stayed quiet.

“No word from the PI?”

“Nope.” Exhaustion weighing his shoulders, he rose, then dropped onto the sofa, unlacing his boots.

“How would you feel if Vicki abruptly showed up?”

He shrugged. “It’s a fluid situation. At first, I was panicked enough by the girls’ tag-team screaming that I probably would’ve given Vicki another chance at motherhood. But now…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You all right?” Emma asked. “You look pasty.”

“I feel pasty.” In a decidedly un-Marine-like pose of vulnerability, he covered his face with his hands. “Em? What if I never figure out how to be a good dad? What if I lack the parental gene?”

Beatrice still in her arms, Emma rocked up and out of the chair to sit alongside Jace. “When you held this one in the park—really held her—she nestled against you like she’d known you forever. Because she has. You’re her father, Jace. Your DNA is hers—and her sister’s. You can’t help but grow into an amazing father.”

He snorted.

“What?”

“Your logic is ludicrous. If all it took to be a perfect parent was DNA, then what was Vicki’s excuse?”

Emma lowered her gaze. Agreed with him, did she?

Jace knew he’d have been laughed out of the Corps for admitting it, but right at that moment, he was jealous of a six-month-old for being held by Emma. In three tours of duty in hellacious war zones, he couldn’t remember ever having been this scared.

“Trust me,” Emma said. “Stop a second to look at who you are. What you do. If you have enough intellect and courage to fly a helicopter in the most dangerous parts of the world, then can’t you use that same chutzpah to raise two amazing babies into well-rounded, happy and healthy grown women?”

Eyes stinging, throat tight, Jace nodded.

“So then you’re feeling better about the whole situation?”

“Sure,” he lied. “Only how am I going to pay for two sets of braces? Two cars? Two college degrees?” Cheeks flaming, he added, “Holy hell, what if one—or both—want to become doctors or lawyers? But then, that might be a good thing, right? Because they’ll have nice, safe jobs and meet straight-laced types who—”

“Whoa.” Emma curved her hand around his shoulder, telling herself the jolt of heat was imagined. “The girls are six months old, Jace. You’re getting ahead of yourself on the old worry tree. For now, let’s stick with introducing a few more solid foods and baby-proofing all of your cabinets and electrical outlets.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Baby-proofing. Good plan.”

“Jace…” her tone was soft. A verbal pillow on which to rest his turbulent emotions. “Trust me, down the line—weeks from now, maybe even months—you’ll never be able to imagine your life before Bea and Bronwyn entered it. Being a parent is…” In the living room’s dim light, her eyes shone. Was she on the verge of crying? “…the most wonderful thing you can imagine. Through these angels’ eyes, you’ll experience everything anew. Their first Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas. And just think, with every year, every occasion will be new again because the girls will be at a fresh stage of life. There will be trick-or-treating and baking cookies for Santa. Holding out your arms to them when they run off the school bus ecstatic to see you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she turned to brush them away. “Anyway,” she added with a sniffle, “you have lots of good times ahead of you. I’m actually a little jealous.”

“In that case,” he said, sensing that for whatever reason, she needed him to lighten the moment, “how about I give you the honor of handling the good—and stinky—surprise I’m guessing Bea just left in her diaper.”




Chapter Five


While changing Bea, Emma pondered how Jace had sensed she’d needed not only a joke, but a few moments of alone time to gather her composure. He hadn’t noticed her blubbering like a big baby herself, had he?

“How’s it going?” he asked, standing behind her, his size dwarfing her. “Need help?”

“I’m good,” she said, forcing a smile. Clearly, no matter what she’d told her mother about her current mental state, Emma was far from good. Dreaming about what her life might have been with Henry—his first words and steps, kindergarten and high-school graduations, along with all of the infinitely lovely steps in between—had been more than she could bear.




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