The SEAL's Baby

Fallon rooted for a nipple, settling on those ribbons above Hannah’s heart. Putting on the uniform did make Hannah feel different. But honor, courage and commitment to the core values of the Navy didn’t make her heartless or mean she had anything less to give her daughter. In many ways it meant she was willing to give her daughter more.

“Enough now. Auntie Sammy already fed you.”

After Fallon had been born, Hannah had considered contacting McCaffrey through third-party notification. His command, her command, even his family would have been able to send him a Health and Welfare message through the American Red Cross. But did she really want him hearing that he was a father through a SOPA?

Chances were, as CO, he’d have seen the message even before the chaplain had a chance to soften the blow. What would his reaction have been? What if he’d been in a hot zone? Would he have been able to do his duty without distraction? Would he have even got the message?

There were too many unknown variables. With time they’d turned into obstacles.

Pride wasn’t the only thing that had kept her from tracking him down. Doubts about his desire to be a father had crept in. The fact that she knew he’d do his duty regardless only hurt her more. And then Fallon had been born, and Hannah felt the overwhelming need to protect her daughter. Fallon didn’t need a father who’d be in and out of her life so often he’d cease to exist even in her memories.

The single cloudy memory Hannah had of her own father was of him leaving. Her daughter deserved more.

Just as she reached the door to her office, the cell phone in the diaper bag started ringing. Hannah propped the door open with the stroller and grabbed for the phone.

She picked up at the same time she settled Fallon on the couch in her office. “Hello?” She sat down angled toward her daughter and continued to dig in the bag for the necessary diaper and wipes.

“Hannah, it’s Peter.”

“Is everything all right?”

“You mean aside from the fact this project is falling apart without you? We need you, Hannah. I need you.”

“You don’t need me, Peter. You only think you do.”

“I’m a rocket scientist, not a manager. You know I don’t know which way is up without you.”

“You’ll do fine. You have good people working for you—”

“I lost my glasses yesterday. And today I lost my spare.”

“Look up…on top of your head.”

He clicked his tongue, apparently finding them right where she’d said they’d be. “That just proves my point. I need you. Maybe you could fly back for the weekend?”

“Peter—”

“Just for the weekend—”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“I thought you might say that.”

She felt annoyed with him for even asking. She’d cut her maternity leave short to minimize the effect of her longer military absence on the company. He didn’t understand that, at least temporarily, she was no longer available to him. By law he had to hold her job for her. As a friend there was no question that he would. If there was a company to go back to. With so many reservists deploying, it impacted small businesses and big-city police forces alike. She was Peter’s Gal Friday. He counted on her. “If you’re that desperate maybe—”

“I’ve already booked a flight.”

“I was going to say, maybe you could e-mail the proposal, and I could find some time to look it over.” What was she saying? What time? “Peter—”

“Did you get the flowers?”

Hannah was busy peeling the tabs on the clean diaper she’d managed to wrestle under Fallon’s bare bottom, but she wedged the phone between her neck and shoulder and looked around the office. There was a bouquet on her desk. One more wedding item. “Yes.”

“And?” he prompted.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, folding the poopy diaper and stashing it in a plastic bag for later disposal. She’d have to pick up a Diaper Genie for her office. Maybe bring in a portable playpen and some toys… What was she thinking? It wasn’t like she’d be bringing Fallon to the office every day or even be here herself. With less than seventy-two hours’ notice she could be anywhere in the world. Including the latest hot zone.

“You haven’t read the card, have you?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She cleaned her hands with a baby wipe. “I’ve been…busy—”

“I understand.”

Did he really?

Her daughter was now clean and content, gurgling in response to Hannah’s smiles. Peter’s voice barely registered as Hannah got caught up in playing peekaboo.

“Is that Fallon cooing in the background?”

“She’s a Charmin Chatty with a big beau-ti-ful smile,” she emphasized for the baby. See for yourself.” She snapped and sent the digital image from her camera phone to his. “I’m glad you always manage to talk me into the latest gadgets.”

“So am I.”

She took several more pictures. During the photo shoot, Fallon surprised them both by rolling over onto her belly with help from the seat cushion. Lifting her bobble head, she peeked over her shoulder looking for Hannah.

“Yes, Mommy sees your new trick.” She smiled at her daughter’s stunned expression. Fallon’s whole face lit up, her arms and legs windmilled, celebrating the joy of her newfound talent. She was already a handful, but she was really going to be a handful when she started crawling. Hannah could only hope she’d be there to see it. “Did you catch all that?” she asked Peter.

“I miss you both,” he said.

“We miss you, too.”

“How do you feel about long-distance relationships?”

He was a good boss. And a better friend. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for them to take each other for granted. But he was not without his faults. Sometimes she thought he mistook their friendship for something more. Poor Peter. He needed someone the exact opposite of her. Which was why she didn’t assign a deeper meaning to his words. But he deserved an answer.

Saved by a knock on her office door.

“Peter, I have to go.” She hung up on his goodbye.

The Commander, Naval Special Warfare, poked his bald head around the open door. This was the first time she’d seen him uncovered. The look suited a man of his stature. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No!” She picked up Fallon and stood. “Admiral Bell, come in, please.” She gestured toward the couch where she’d just finished changing the baby. He remained standing, which was probably just as well considering he wore white from head to toe.

“We didn’t get much time in the receiving line. I just wanted to find out how you were settling in.”

“I’ve only been here a couple of days for orientation, but fine, so far.”

“Good, good.” He moved farther into the office, picking up the picture of Fallon from Hannah’s desk. “Have you enrolled her in swimming lessons yet? They offer Mommy and Me classes on base. I regret not having that experience with Libby. Drown-proofing SEAL style was the extent of our lessons.”

Hannah pushed the disturbing image aside. She doubted that meant he’d thrown his daughter into a pool with hands and feet bound like the BUD/S in training. Still… “You must have made up for it at some point. She obviously loves the water now.” Hannah wouldn’t be drown-proofing her own daughter anytime soon—if ever.

“Almost drowned when she was six. Riptide out in the Bay. For years she wouldn’t go near water. But as you pointed out, she loves it now.”

“Did you need to speak with me about Libby, Admiral?”

“It’s nothing really.” He took her cue and set the picture aside. “Just that she doesn’t like being the admiral’s kid. So…no special treatment, you understand. She wants to find her own way in the world. Which is of course why she enlisted when her mother and I would have preferred she get a college education and a commission. Or steer clear of military service altogether.” He hesitated for a moment. “She transferred into your unit, Commander, because she sees you as a role model.”

Hannah adjusted Fallon higher on her shoulder.

His wise gaze settled on her and the baby in her arms. “I understand you’re a single mother?”

Hannah stiffened. “Yes, sir.”

“I imagine you feel a little like you’ve been thrown in the deep end.”

“We’re keeping our heads above water.”

“I’m assuming you have a parenting plan in place?”

This wasn’t the civilian world. He had a right, a responsibility to pry. But men in general just didn’t get it. She needed a wife more than she needed a husband.

“Just like every other working mother in America.”

“Only the commute is to hell in a helicopter and the business trips last months, even years,” he pointed out.

“My note to the nanny includes a power of attorney. And a will. I’ve filled out the Navy’s Dependent Care Certificate. I could fax a copy to your office—” She rummaged the Out box on her desk for proof. “My sister’s taken on the baby’s guardianship—”

“That won’t be necessary, Commander. I’m just checking to see that everything’s a go for Monday.”

“Yes, of course. Squadron Nine has coordinated efforts for the joint training op with SEAL Team One. We’ll be wheels up at 0700 sharp.”

“Just the same, if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask…”

“Thank you, Admiral. I’m indebted—”

He shook his head. “Your father already paid that debt.”

Hannah’s chest tightened.

“Did you know him?” She failed to keep the wistfulness out of her voice.

“We served together for a time in the brown water Navy of Vietnam. He hated those mud puddles…” The admiral broke off eye contact. “He spoke of you often.”

True or not, it was the nicest possible thing he could have said to her. “And after the war?”

The admiral shook his head. “He stayed with Team One. And I went on to form the counterterrorist group, Team Eleven.”

“They told my mother he died in a training accident.”

He wasn’t supposed to die. The war was over. He’d promised to return. He’d kissed her and her sister and her mother and he’d promised.

“What can I bring you for your birthday, pumpkin?”

“An Easy Bake oven.”

He looked helplessly at her mother, standing in the doorway, holding the baby. “Are you sure you’re old enough? How old are you going to be anyway? Five? Six?” he teased.

“Seven, Daddy. You know I’m going to be seven.”

“Seven. You can’t be seven. You’re growing up too fast.” He lifted her in the air and spun her around. “I’m going to have to start beating those boys off with a baseball bat. Are you sure I can’t bring you a new ball and glove?”

She giggled. “You can bring me whatever you want, Daddy, as long as you promise you’ll be home to help blow out the candles and cut the cake.”

He didn’t promise in words, he never promised in words. But he hugged her so tight the promise didn’t have to be spoken, it was there in the way he loved her.

The admiral didn’t comment further. He simply nodded and changed the subject. “If I’m not mistaken, last year around this time your squadron drilled with Team Eleven, McCaffrey and his boys?”

What could she say except “Yes, sir.”

Maybe the admiral didn’t think the change in subject was such a stretch. He followed his question with a lifted eyebrow, clearly expecting her to elaborate.

She didn’t.

He offered one last bit of advice. “Sometimes the only way to conquer a fear is to face the harsh reality of it.”

When he left, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. She strapped Fallon back into her stroller, then quickly stripped out of her uniform jacket. She’d soaked through her nursing pads to her blouse.

Luckily she kept spare uniforms at the office and still had a few of her dwindling supply of nursing pads in the diaper bag. Monday would be her first separation from her baby girl—two weeks of training exercises in the Nevada desert. Weaning Fallon earlier than she would have liked had been one of those not so small sacrifices required to do her job.

Buttoning her jacket after changing blouses, she decided to bolster her confidence with an old flight-school trick. She picked up an orange, an apple and a stress ball from her desk. “Want to see what Mommy can do?” she asked, juggling the balls.

Fallon followed with bright-eyed fascination.

“The trick is running through calculations at the same time. If an HH-60H Seahawk leaves S.C.I. at 1000 hours, flying at a maximum air speed of one hundred and eighty knots, how long— Oops!” The orange bounced across the desk, rolling into the flower vase. Hannah averted disaster. Almost. She caught the vase, but she’d dropped several balls today. “The idea is to keep all the balls in the air. And the answer is he never should have made it.”

Setting her juggling act aside, she plucked the card from the flowers. You’ve taken command of my heart. Love Peter.

“Shoot!” It looked like she had a man caught in those crosshairs after all.

CHAPTER FOUR

OFFICERS’ CLUB NORTH ISLAND

Coronado, California

“WAITING FOR Lieutenant Commander Stanton?” Mike strode up to the lieutenant, impatiently cooling his heels at the curb outside the Officers’ Club.

“Sir. Yes, sir.” Spencer “Hollywood” Holden acknowledged Mike with a sharp salute, but he was trying too hard in Mike’s opinion. He still had a hard time believing the former child-star hadn’t joined the Navy as some sort of publicity stunt.

“Not anymore,” Mike said, returning the salute. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“Sir?”

“Lend me the getup. Sword and gloves.”

Holden complied without question. Good thing, because Mike wasn’t in the mood for insubordination.

Stripped of his gear, Hannah’s co-pilot didn’t seem so Tom Cruise cocky. Which made up for Mike having to stretch the white gloves and let the belt out a notch. But both would do in a pinch.

Even without the added flash of his Full Dress medals, anyone could see by his ribbon résumé he was a highly decorated officer. A highly decorated officer making an ass of himself over a woman. Hell, he was in good company. For centuries men had waged entire wars over women. And Mike was in the mood for a fight.

Holden disappeared inside, and Mike took the lieutenant’s place curbside. Somewhere between Hannah’s abrupt departure and the drive over, he’d decided that if she had something to say to him, he wanted to hear it. Even if it was “Take your go-to-hell watch and shove it.”

He owed her that much at least.

Identifying the HCS-9 staff car by the Night Hawks flag as it pulled to the curb, he opened the door and offered his arm. “Spence—” she began, using him as leverage, only to be brought nose to shoulder board with his gold epaulet. She snatched her hand back as if from a snake. Once bitten, twice shy?

He tried not to take it personally; SEALs were called snake eaters, but never cold-blooded reptiles. Besides just her touch was enough to warm his blood.

“Sorry, not Holden,” he drawled. “Disappointed? And here I strapped on my sword just for you.” Or rather commandeered it.

“If I’d known, I would have worn my strap on.”

“Now that I’d like to see.”

“Then it’s too bad a lady has no need for a tempered-steel phallic symbol.”

That sounded more like the Hannah he knew and…missed. He let loose a hearty chuckle. How long had it been since he’d felt like laughing? How long had it been since they’d last exchanged banter? “From what I hear the lady created quite a stir arriving at the Change of Command Ceremony unescorted.”

“So they drafted you to be my handler?”

“This is an all-volunteer Navy.”

She raised a perfect eyebrow. “Speaking of volunteers, what have you done with Spence?”

“Ordered him to get lost.”

“Rank has its privileges?”

“Absolutely.”

That, and the green-eyed monster had reared its ugly head. Holden had been her co-pilot for at least the four years Mike had known her. He wasn’t so cynical that he believed men and women couldn’t be friends, but in his experience sex always got in the way.

More staff cars pulled up to the curb and he crooked his elbow. “Shall we?”

RHIP. His rank left her little choice but to accept his offered arm. She acquiesced, latching on to his biceps, and he measured his stride to hers. Although her legs were long and lovely, they weren’t as long as his.

The side boys opened the double doors.

“Ladies first,” he insisted, pressing a hand to the small of her back to keep that contact as he guided her toward the cloakroom.

Once inside, they removed their headgear and gloves, or in his case Holden’s, securing them inside their covers. Hannah handed them off to the hatcheck girl while Mike removed the scabbard and exchanged the ensemble for the ticket.

“Separate tickets, please,” Hannah insisted, fluffing out her hair.

“If you insist.”

“I insist.”

The hatcheck girl was riveted by their conversation. Mike took the second ticket but didn’t offer it to Hannah right away.

“I have three hundred guests waiting,” she prompted.

“Before your mother and sister came along, you were about to say something….”

“Mike, not here.” She glanced at the girl behind him and cleared her throat. “Given the fact we’ll be working together, I think we should keep it strictly professional.”

He didn’t care about the girl, but Hannah was lucky. The next wave of guests entered the building, leaving him little choice but to respect her wishes. “If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

That’s not what her eyes were saying as they held his gaze and wouldn’t let go. Or maybe he was the one who couldn’t let go. “Why didn’t you tell me your father was a Navy SEAL?”

“You’ve been talking to my mother. What’s there to tell? I barely remember him.”

“I’m sorry, Han.” He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for—her father’s death, his own disappearing act, or both. How could he explain his fear of hurting her when that’s exactly what he’d done?

“Are we through with apologies?”

“I guess we are. And since we’re being so PC, Commander, I’ll expect a formal call at your earliest convenience.” He had no intention of letting this conversation go.

“Fine. May I have the ticket, please? I’m a big girl and can make it to the party on my own. I’ll call you if I need an escort, Commander.”

Ouch! He handed over the ticket, more than ready to abandon his duty. But he couldn’t let her go in there unarmed. “Han, word of advice for getting along with these guys. If you’re going to rock the boat, think gentle waves.”

POSITIONED NEXT TO Captain Loring, behind the giant sheet cake with the Night Hawks logo, Hannah mustered a smile for the camera.

Think gentle waves and rocking boats.

Capsized was more like it. Seeing McCaffrey today had turned hers upside down. There was something she wanted to tell him, but couldn’t without rocking several boats.

The enlisted Photographer’s Mate snapped the photo capturing her frown. “One more of the two of you cutting the cake,” he insisted.

Loring dipped his sword into the first slice as they both held on to the handle. “I don’t see your mother, Hannah?”

Hannah cast a sidelong glance at the man just as the photographer took his next snapshot. “Hold for one more,” he said again.

If she didn’t manage a smile, they’d be here all day.

“She’s driving over with my sister and the baby in our car. It’s easier than switching Fallon’s car seat back and forth.”

“Will your mother be in the San Diego area long?”

“Until the end of next week.”

“Maybe she’ll have time for dinner with an old friend.” He smiled into the camera.

Her mom and Captain Loring? Friends? Now that would take some getting used to. A slower, less certain smile spread across Hannah’s face. “Maybe.”

“Got it!” the photographer said.

Before the polite applause ended, she found herself searching the O Club for her mother and sister. “Sammy! Over here!” Hannah waved her through the door of the crowded banquet room. “Where’s Fallon?”

“Fallon’s cranky. Mom had me drive them home.”

“Oh.” Hannah quickly hid her disappointment. With McCaffrey here maybe it was for the best. “I should go, too.”

At home she could look into her daughter’s eyes, where the reason for keeping father and daughter apart made sense. She didn’t want to hurt either of them. But it was a decision already causing her pain.

“No way, this is your big day. Besides, you promised to introduce me to Spencer Holden. I’ve only been in love with him forever.”

Like every other groupie.

Holden had caused quite a stir when he’d walked away from the fame and fortune of Hollywood to enroll in an Ivy League college. A few years later he’d walked into a Navy recruiting office. The paparazzi still followed him around as if he were Elvis.

At first Hannah had found it all amusing, but it soon became annoying. And now her own sister had joined the ranks of the starstruck.

Sammy leaned back against the bar and surveyed the room. “Wow! Are all these guys single?”

“Not all.” Hannah was too jaded not to see past a well-cut uniform—with one exception of course, and he seemed to have disappeared. Finally she could relax. Except Sammy had that kid-in-a-candy-store look that made Hannah want to rush her sister from the O Club before she bit into the goodies.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander Stanton.” Lieutenant Russell Parish, her Executive Officer squeezed through the crowd and came toward them.

“Yes, Russ, what is it?” He stopped next to Sammy, who had eyes only for Spence and every other pilot out on the dance floor.

“Ma’am.” Russ acknowledged Sammy as he reached across her to hand Hannah his calling card.

Sammy shifted her gaze to give Russ the once-over, but dismissed the crew-cut pilot for other more appealing eye candy.

Russ was too well mannered to take offense. “When would you like me to come calling, ma’am?” This time the “ma’am” was directed at Hannah.

“Why don’t I have my social secretary call you?”

Parish’s eyes skittered to her sister, but he didn’t so much as smile. “Yes, ma’am.” He spared another “ma’am” and a nod to Sammy before he moved away.

“What a geek,” Sammy said when he was out of earshot.

Privately Hannah agreed, but he was a geek who followed protocol. She handed Sammy the card. “There are going to be more of these.”

“Give me a break. I’m not drop-dead gorgeous. I’m not tall. Or thin. Or you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Sammy had put on the freshman fifteen in college. Then another as she’d settled into teaching at the elementary level. And another during a rotten relationship that had been a blessing in disguise for Hannah and Fallon—Sammy’s need to “get away” had coincided with Hannah’s need for a nanny— But Hannah had never realized until now that the highs and lows in her sister’s life were marked by weight gain. Or that her sister might be unhappy about that.

Hannah gave her sister a squeeze. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Just what every gal wants to hear,” Sammy said, but she squeezed back.

“Regardless, there will be more of these. Squadron Officers have to call on the new CO.” She softened the blow to Sammy’s ego with a smile.

“Back up, you’re saying they have to call on you?”

“It gives me a chance to talk with them one-on-one.” Just like she had a duty to call on her superiors. As McCaffrey had been so quick to point out, she’d only managed to put off the inevitable confrontation. From here on out they moved in the same social and professional stratosphere. Avoiding him was out of the question.

At least she had the lunch with Lu to look forward to. Officers’ wives tended to exclude female officers from their circles, but then so did their husbands. Rarely did she experience the day-to-day camaraderie her male counterparts relished.