скачать книгу бесплатно
A twinge of regret fluttered through her because he’d missed that, too. And there was no way to make up for it. But this was a photo op if she’d ever seen one because he was holding his son for the first time.
“I have pictures,” she said. “From the beginning.”
“I’d like to see them.” When he shifted the baby’s weight in his arms, J.T.’s soft cheek brushed against the scruff of beard. The already skittish child let out a piercing wail. “Hey, pal, what’s up?”
Looking awkward, Joe tried bouncing him, but this was unfamiliar territory and his body language said so, loud and clear. He was stiff, uncomfortable, and J.T. could feel it. His cries became more urgent—from zero to sobbing in three-point-two seconds.
Unfortunately, it was past his bedtime. J.T. was tired and beyond hope of being distracted.
“Let me have him,” she said, taking the baby.
He wanted the comfort of nursing, another nightly ritual. Another something Joe hadn’t seen and she wasn’t comfortable doing it now. But as the baby got more and more upset and nuzzled his face into her shoulder, Kate knew there was no choice.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“He wants to nurse,” she explained.
She went into the bedroom and grabbed a receiving blanket then sat on the couch hoping Joe would be as embarrassed as she was. Please God, he would take the hint and go.
When he stood his ground, she tugged up her shirt with as much dignity as possible, settled J.T. at her breast where he instantly latched on, then threw the blanket over her front. It was quiet now, except for the hum of the refrigerator.
“What happens during the day when you’re at work?” Joe asked. “How does he—I mean, obviously you don’t let him go hungry.”
The man flew helicopters, complex machinery that was beyond the average person, but the basics of breast-feeding were a mystery. It might have made her smile if she weren’t so tense about this complex mess they were in.
“I pump,” she said.
“Iron? Gas? What?” he asked.
The puzzled expression on his face was so darn cute it made her even more tense and J.T. whimpered. “It’s okay, sweet pea,” she comforted. The sound of her voice quieted him and she felt him relax.
She looked up at Joe. He stood straight and tall with booted feet braced wide apart as if he were standing guard over them, which was oddly comforting. His worn jeans and snug black T-shirt molded to his body and left none of his muscles to her imagination. And she’d imagined him a lot since he walked out on her.
“I have a breast pump that extracts the milk,” she explained. “It goes into bottles that I freeze and take to Marilyn Watson. She’s the lady I told you about who watches him while I’m at work.”
“I see.”
“He’s also starting solid food—cereal, fruit.” She saw the look on his face and added, “Pureed fruit. No teeth yet.”
“I got that.” He almost smiled before the serious expression returned. “How did you learn all this stuff?”
“OJT—on-the-job training.”
But she remembered when J.T. was brand-new and she’d felt as if someone with a warped sense of humor had thrown her into the deep end of the parenting pool. She’d been alone. On her own with a newborn. Trying to breast-feed, not knowing if J.T. was getting enough to eat. That first night the two of them cried together. But she got through it by herself. That’s how it always had been and always would be.
By the heavy, relaxed feel of him, she knew J.T. had fallen asleep. She stood and said, “I’m going to put him to bed.”
Joe nodded, but to her relief didn’t follow her into the other room. She placed the baby on his back with a light receiving blanket over his legs. It was May in Las Vegas and far from cold. The gesture was more of a “mom thing” than a necessity to keep him warm. After adjusting her shirt more modestly, she rejoined Joe.
“I got your dinner ready,” he said.
He’d set it on the bar with a glass of iced tea beside it. Although she wasn’t hungry now, she knew she needed to eat something and sat down. He stood in the kitchen across from her.
“Thanks.”
He shrugged. “I know how to get food in and out of a microwave.”
The subtext of that remark was that he didn’t know what to do with a baby. The pained regret in his expression made her want to comfort him. “Having a child might be the most natural thing in the world, but they don’t come with an instruction manual.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
She took a bite of mystery meat and studied him while she chewed and swallowed. All she could think to say was, “It’s not your fault, Joe.”
And it wasn’t. But when she’d received no response from him, she hadn’t known he was a prisoner in Afghanistan and the silence had hurt her deeply. For the second time. She never wanted to hurt like that again.
“I’ll never know what it was like to hold him as a newborn.”
“If it’s any consolation, he won’t remember that.” She finished off the mashed potatoes and washed them down with iced tea. “And it’s a good thing. I was all thumbs and he was so tiny. It took time to know what I was doing.”
“That’s all I’m asking for, Kate.” He rested muscular forearms on the countertop in front of her. His eyes sparked with intensity as they met hers. “All I want is time to know my son and learn how to take care of him. Time for him to know me, to trust me.”
“That’s the hard part,” she said. “Why should I believe you’ll stick around?”
Why should she believe he was different from the other men she’d known? The ones who’d paraded in and out of her mother’s life when she was a child. Each time she’d hoped and prayed this one would stay so she could have a family—a mom and dad like other kids. It had never happened and she didn’t want J.T. to know the same disappointment she had.
Joe looked down for several moments, then met her gaze. “I guess there’s nothing I can say to convince you. But, here’s the thing. I wasn’t here when you were pregnant or for the first months of his life. I will be around now. Count on it.”
She had to be fair; there was no choice but to give him time with his child. He was entitled to that. It wasn’t his problem that her attraction for him refused to die. Since there was no way she’d let J.T. out of her sight, she’d have to see him—and do her best to make sure history didn’t repeat itself.
The last time he’d only wanted sex. Now he was there for the baby. It had nothing to do with her, and she needed to remember that. She’d already experienced a serious level of pain on Joe’s account that was a small preview of the damage he could do to her heart.
“Okay,” she said. “You can come over.” Then she held up her finger in warning. “Just don’t bring up marriage again.”
As if that would protect her from emotional catastrophe. She could only hope.
Chapter Three
Kate had said okay—permission to come aboard as a parent. It was bright and early the following morning and he stood on her doorstep with bagels and doughnuts in hand. He didn’t bring coffee because after browsing breast-feeding sites on the Net, he wasn’t sure whether J.T. would get caffeine through his mom. On general principle he figured it wasn’t good for a baby.
Joe knocked softly on the door in case the baby might still be asleep. He didn’t know a lot about this, but the little information he had suggested new parents were tired, which meant babies didn’t sleep much.
Kate answered the door with a coffee cup in her hand which answered the caffeine question. “Hi. You’re early.”
And you’re beautiful.
For a split second he was afraid he’d said that out loud. It was the honest-to-God truth, but she wouldn’t want to hear it from him. Her sunstreaked brown hair was tousled from sleep and he remembered it looking like that after he’d run his hands through the silky strands all night long. She was wearing white shorts and a sleeveless green cotton shirt. Her feet were bare and her face didn’t have even a trace of makeup. She took his breath away and also, apparently, his powers of speech because he hadn’t said a word yet.
“Hi.” He gave her the bag. “Breakfast.”
“Thanks. Come in.”
He followed her inside and said, “I wasn’t sure about coffee and caffeine for J.T.—”
She held up her cup. “It’s decaf and I miss my morning jolt. Want some?”
The sight of her had already given him a jolt and no caffeine was involved. “Coffee would be great.” He looked around and saw J.T. propped up in a high chair and gnawing on something that looked like a bread stick. He had goo and residue, presumably from a food source of unknown origin in his hand, all over his face and as far down his body as was visible. He reached to the top of his head and ran a grubby hand in his hair, grabbing a hank before pulling it straight up.
“Hey, buddy.” He walked over and squatted in front of the boy who was watching him with big, interested blue eyes. “You’ve got a punk-rock thing going on there.”
“I wouldn’t get too close,” Kate warned, coffeepot in hand. “He’s a mess.”
“Yeah. I have visual confirmation,” he said wryly.
“He’s pretty quick with those hands if you’re not careful. Just like you—” She stopped and her cheeks turned pink. “Never mind.”
Impossible not to mind when she reminded him of how good the sex had been. Not that he needed much reminding. But she was right. It was better not to go there.
He smiled at the baby. “What’s up, J.T.?”
“He is,” Kate said, glancing over her shoulder. “And a lot during the night, too. I think he’s teething. As a matter of fact, that gross thing in his hand is a teething biscuit. He likes to chew on it. Keeps him busy for a long time.”
Joe moved to the bar and watched her put sugar and fat-free half and half in her steaming mug. She was very particular about it, he remembered now. Coffee was practically a religious experience.
With another cup in her hand, she moved to the counter, keeping the bar between them. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He took the steaming mug from her and set it down to cool. Black was how he liked it.
There was nothing like the smell of a good cup of coffee. Unless it was the sweet scent of Kate. The fragrance of her skin drifted to him and all he could think about was fresh flowers and feminine heat. For a woman who hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, she looked awfully darn appealing. For a man who’d given her up, he was still pretty damn attracted. What had he been thinking?
That was a no-brainer. He’d walked before she could. He didn’t want to get burned again. It was as simple as that. But there was nothing simple about the way he got lost in her big, expressive eyes.
“You’re here for a crash course in child care. So—” She dragged out the single word, then took a sip of coffee. Nervous. Good. It wasn’t just him.
“Not quite the way I’d phrase it,” he said and couldn’t help smiling. “More like the basics of baby boot camp.”
“Well put.”
“Where do we start?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the gurgling, babbling baby. “Bath first. Do you want to get him out of the chair?”
He blew out a breath. “A pilot has to take the controls sooner or later.”
“Just remember he’s really sturdy and crying is actually good for his lungs.”
But not so good for my heart, Joe thought.
Last night, his son had cried because he didn’t know his own father. Joe had felt angry, powerless to help, and it had made him hurt in a place he’d never known existed. He hated that. Kate had easily handled the situation. But she had a four-month headstart. More than that if you counted the time she’d carried the boy inside her. It was the time Joe could never get back which had sparked his anger. All he could do was start now and learn, because he never wanted to feel that helpless again.
He started to lift the child out of the chair, then released the seat belt when he got hung up. The baby’s feet caught on the tray and, with one arm around J.T.’s waist, he untangled them.
“And we have lift off.” In more ways than one, he thought when there was an unmistakable sound from the region of the baby’s tush. Sniffing, he said, “Tell me that isn’t what I think.”
Kate grinned and it could only be described as evil, with a little wicked thrown in for good measure. “There’s never been a better time for diaper-changing 101.”
Joe groaned. He held the boy in both hands, out in front of him so as not to squish anything any more than necessary.
Kate instructed him to put the baby down on the changing table, which was the easy part. Keeping him there was like trying to lasso a hurricane. His son wanted to roll sideways, chew on his feet and grab tubes, tissues and everything else lined up for this operation. Joe felt a trickle of sweat on his back, not unlike the first time he’d taken the controls of a helicopter.
“You’re going to need wet wipes and lots of them,” Kate said, amusement dripping from every word.
With one hand firmly on the baby’s midsection, he looked at her. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“I know.” She smiled.
“You’re not even going to deny it?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “This is just too good for words.”
She verbally walked him through the process, but remained hands-off while he struggled to keep small hands and feet out of the radioactive zone. Then she told him what he could do with it, the diaper that is. Who knew there was a gizmo that magically contained odors? There was a good reason it was called a Diaper Genie.
“Mission accomplished.”
“Not so fast, Marine.” She laughed. “You’re not finished yet. It’s bath time.”
Lord have mercy, he thought. Words that struck terror into his warrior soul. At least she took pity on him and put out the supplies, then filled the tiny tub. Keeping the baby contained in it was diaper-changing bad times ten. Holding on to a slippery baby was like trying to steady his chopper in a twister. When goo and God knows what else was washed off, Kate handed him the towel. Probably not because she wanted to help him as much as because she didn’t want the baby to get cold.
“I’ve put out his clothes,” she explained.
“Changing table?” He held back the groan.
“You’re catching on.”
Not really, but he was glad she thought so. When he put J.T. down, Kate handed the baby a toy that went straight in his mouth. It also kept his hands busy. She could have done that before.
“Here’s a fresh diaper.” She held out a small, folded, not-quite-square white thing.
“Where are the schematics and operating manual?”
She laughed and opened the square, sliding it under the baby’s bottom, getting in close to Joe’s side. Her shoulder brushed his arm and he swore there were sparks. She glanced at him, then stepped sideways.
“Just cover him and hook the tabs,” she instructed. “Here’s a onesy.”
“A what?”
“It’s a shirt that snaps between his legs so it won’t ride up. One piece. A onesy.”
“Not a very manly name.”
