Prince Charming in Dress Blues Read online

  Panic bubbled in her chest.

  The baby’s screams tore at her heart.

  Tears burned her eyes.

  And the doorbell rang.

  “I’ve gotta go,” Annie said, her throat closing around the knot of tears lodged there. “Someone’s at the door.”

  “Do you want me to come over?” Lisa asked.

  Desperately, Annie thought, but didn’t say. She was the mommy here. It was up to her to find her way through the minefield of parenthood. And she’d do it. For Jordan. Her sweet baby was well worth the effort this was going to cost her.

  “No,” she said before she could change her mind and beg her friend to rush to her aid. “I can do this.”

  “I know you can.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Gotta go,” Annie said, already turning to hang up the phone.

  “Call me later.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  She hung up the phone and, still jiggling the crying baby in her arms, walked across the room. Probably her neighbor, she thought, coming to complain about the noise. But it wasn’t her neighbor.

  It was the cavalry.

  Eight

  “Oh, thank God!” She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her whole life. “Come in, come in.”

  “That’s some welcome,” John said with a grin, and stepped into the apartment the moment Annie moved back out of his way.

  “You have no idea,” she said over the baby’s screeching. She looked up into those familiar blue eyes and a wave of relief swamped her. It was as if she’d been drowning, going down for the third time, and someone had just tossed her a lifeline.

  An extremely gorgeous, totally desirable lifeline.

  “Miss me?” he asked, and the deep rumble of his voice carried easily over Jordan’s cries.

  Oh, yeah. Annie had missed him. More than she had wanted to admit. But she’d told herself that it was only natural. After all, they’d spent five or six straight days and nights together. They’d lived out of each other’s pockets in that small cabin. He’d become a part of her routine. An important cog in her well-oiled machine. Plus, he’d seen her safely through labor and childbirth. That alone was bound to create a strong connection.

  But even she didn’t believe all of that. Sure, she’d become used to him. But, heck, you could become used to something annoying, too. That didn’t mean you’d miss it when it was gone.

  Nope. There was way more going on here than a simple disruption of a routine. She could lie to herself all she wanted, but even Annie had to recognize the rush of pleasure dancing through her at the moment for what it was.

  Excitement at seeing him again.

  This couldn’t be a good thing.

  “I missed you, too,” he said, and reached out to touch her cheek. A splinter of heat shot through her at the too-brief contact and she told herself she was going to have to get a grip on those obviously still rampaging hormones.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” John was saying, and Annie’s jaw dropped—until she realized he was speaking to the baby. The small flutter of delight that had momentarily rippled through her quickly died away, and she intended to pretend it had never been there in the first place. After all, she didn’t want him calling her “sweetheart” anyway, right?

  He scooped Jordan up into his arms and smiled into her scrunched-up, beet-red face. Her little legs curled up toward her body, and her spine stiffened as she let loose with another howl loud enough to shatter glass.

  Her mother winced. “She’s been crying for hours,” Annie whispered, and wondered if he heard the whine in her voice as clearly as she did.

  “It’s good exercise,” he said, shooting her a quick smile before looking back at the baby. “Strengthens her lungs, lets her kick her legs and wave her arms.”

  “Oh,” Annie said, pitching her voice to carry over the din, “I think her lungs are plenty strong.”

  He grinned and lowered the baby until she was lying belly down along the length of his forearm, her head cradled in one wide palm. Then he stepped into the “sway and soothe” rhythm that Annie had already tried—and failed at—several times.

  Naturally, Jordan quieted right down for him.

  And Annie was so pathetically, everlastingly grateful, she didn’t even resent his obvious way with the baby.

  Silence. Blessed silence.

  The lack of sound almost hurt her still-ringing ears.

  “Man,” John said, unknowingly shattering the glorious peace with a question, “just what kind of bomb was it that got set off in here?”

  Annie followed his gaze as he looked around the small living room of her two-bedroom apartment. She heard herself sigh and realized anew just how out of orbit her life really was.

  Before Jordan’s birth the apartment had been ruthlessly neat. A place for everything and everything in its place. Annie’s natural instinct for order had shown in everything from the alphabetized spices in her cupboard to the fact that she didn’t even have a junk drawer. Now, though, her whole apartment was a junk drawer.

  Baby things lay scattered across the furniture and the rug. Toys, bottles, diapers, clothes, shoes, practically everything Jordan owned was on display. There was a swing in the corner near Annie’s china cabinet and a floor mobile on a quilt spread on the floor. Stuffed animals perched on the couch and chairs as if they were guests waiting for lunch to be served.

  Dishes were stacked in the kitchen sink and she didn’t even care, she thought with an inward sigh. She was just so darned tired. She felt as though she hadn’t slept in years. Why had no one told her just how hard the mommy life really was?

  But she knew the answer to that one. If word got out about the difficulties of caring for babies, it would bring the population explosion to a grinding halt. And the economy couldn’t take that. Toy stores. Clothing manufacturers. Obstetricians. They were all in on the conspiracy.

  Oh, boy, she thought, lifting one hand to push her hair up and off her forehead, she was more tired than she thought.

  “Hell, Annie,” John said, tipping her chin up with the tips of his fingers, “you don’t look much better than the apartment.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He smiled, and that half dimple winked at her from his cheek. Oh, good God.

  “I just meant you look a little tired.”

  “No,” she said, and walked over to the couch. “I’m a lot tired.” Sinking down into the overstuffed cushions, she sighed and felt her body melt. Maybe sitting hadn’t been such a good idea. As long as she was standing, moving around, she could cope. Once she sat down, though, it was all over.

  “You’re running your mom ragged aren’t you, sweet stuff?” John murmured as he idly stroked the baby’s back.

  “Who knew it would be this hard?” Annie asked aloud, not really expecting an answer.

  “It’s not hard,” he told her as he came closer, “it just takes practice.”

  “Practice, huh?” she asked, drawing her feet up and curling her legs beneath her. “If you suck at something, all the practice in the world isn’t going to help. You’ll just suck slightly less.”

  He laughed, and she mustered the energy to lift her head and glare at him. “It’s not funny.”

  “Sure it is,” he said, easing down onto the arm of the sofa beside her. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Annie.”

  “Yeah, right.” She shook her head, looked at her now-blissfully sleeping daughter and said, “Look at this place, John. Heck, look at me!” Ruffling her hair with one hand, she used the other to wave at her rumpled, baby food stained clothing. “I’m a wreck.”

  He smiled again, but she paid no attention.

  “I’m a college graduate,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Did you know I have a masters in computer science?”

  “No,” he said quietly, “I didn’t.”

  “Well, I do. And I minored in child psychology!” She threw her hands up and let them fall back into her lap. “I wanted
to be able to understand my kids. To be a good…good—” her voice cracked, she gulped in a breath and finished lamely “—mother.”

  Shifting the baby slightly, John reached over to stroke Annie’s hair back from her face. Helplessness filled him and he didn’t much care for the feeling. Hell, he’d thought he was doing her a favor by quieting the baby. But now, looking at the big, silent tears coursing down Annie’s face, he thought maybe he’d made a mistake.

  Somehow, just by being here, by getting Jordan settled down, he’d made Annie feel even worse. Damn it.

  “You are a good mother,” he said, willing her to believe him.

  She shook her head, unfolded her legs and wrapped her arms around them, drawing her knees up close to her chest. “No. I’m not. And even Jordan knows it, poor baby.”

  “Come on,” he said, shifting the baby again and, when she stirred, instinctively jiggling her gently. “You don’t have to be the best at everything right off the starting line.”

  Annie lifted her head to look up at him. “Yes, I do,” she said. “I’m all she’s got. She’s depending on me to do this right. To give her the kind of life she deserves.”

  “And you will,” he said, even though somewhere inside him the words we will echoed softly. Surprised, he waited to feel the flash of sheer mortal terror most men experienced when even a stray thought of marriage and forever entered his mind. It didn’t come.

  She laughed shortly, but there was no humor in it, and John winced at the sound.

  “How?” she asked. “I can’t even make her stop crying.”

  “Babies cry,” he told her gently. “That’s just part of the package.”

  “I know that, it’s just—”

  “Just what?” his voice was soft, low, intimate, and he hoped she didn’t hear the need in it.

  “What if I never get it?” she asked, worry coloring her tone. “What if I never learn how to be a good mom?”

  A sheen of tears made her eyes glitter at him in the afternoon sun streaming in through the front window. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were clamped tightly together in an effort to stop their trembling.

  His heart twisted in his chest. She looked so fragile. So beaten. So tired. All the spirit he’d seen in her at the cabin was gone. And that tore at him. He shouldn’t have stayed away this week. He should have gone with his gut and pressed his case right away.

  But should haves didn’t mean a thing. This was now. And first things first.

  “You are a good mother,” he said, staring deeply into her eyes.

  She shook her head, but before she could speak, he continued.

  “You love her, Annie. That’s all any baby ever really needs.”

  She took a breath, held it, then released it slowly as her gaze shifted to the tiny baby he held cradled on one arm. “I do love her,” she murmured, stroking her fingertips along her daughter’s cheek. “More than I ever thought it possible to love anyone.”

  He caught her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “Then stop sweating the small stuff,” he said. “Hell, crying’s the easy part. Just wait till she’s arguing with you about her curfew!”

  She laughed, just as he’d hoped she would. “No arguments,” she said solemnly. “She’s not dating until she’s twenty-five.”

  He looked down into the baby’s innocent face and thought, nope. Thirty had a nice ring to it.

  Then she folded her fingers around his and held on tight. “I’m so glad you came over today, John.”

  “So am I, Annie,” he said, his gaze shifting to move over her features with a slow, loving caress, “so am I.”

  Seconds ticked past, and John’s gaze dropped to her mouth. Hunger clawed at him. Good old-fashioned need reared its ugly head, and he nearly choked on the rush of desire. Being here with her was almost enough to bring him to his knees, even knowing that nothing could happen between them. Not yet. Hell, not for another few weeks, at least. But damned if it wouldn’t be worth the wait. Two weeks he’d known this woman and one solid week of it they’d been apart and it didn’t seem to matter.

  He wanted her more than anything or anyone else in the world.

  And he’d do whatever he had to do to convince her that she needed him, too.

  Once, he thought as he noticed her eyelids drooping, she was conscious enough to appreciate his charms.

  She sucked in a gulp of air and slowly drew her hand free of his. Then she smiled nervously, lifted both hands and rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry about getting all teary on you.”

  “No problem.” Hell, she could cry on his shoulder for the rest of her life.

  “I just feel like I haven’t slept in—”

  “Days?” he asked.

  “Years.” She shot her daughter a quick, loving look. “Jordan seems to have a fondness for late-night chats and way-too-brief naps.”

  This he could take care of, he thought. “I remember my cousin Tina,” John said and stood up slowly, carrying the baby toward the portable crib set up against the far wall. “When her son Jack was born? She swore she didn’t sleep for the first two weeks. But she had her husband to do backup.”

  “Yeah well…”

  He laid Jordan down and covered her with a lightweight blanket. Then, standing up, he turned around to face her and said, “So, why don’t you let me be your backup today?”

  She blinked, stifled a yawn and asked, “What?”

  John crossed the room to her side, pulled her to her feet and said, “Go to bed.”

  “I can’t,” she argued, glancing from John to the baby and back again. “The apartment’s a wreck and now that Jordan’s asleep, I should—”

  “Get some sleep?”

  “I wish I could,” she admitted, but then slid a glance at her laptop, sitting open on the cluttered kitchen table. “But even if I don’t clean, I should finish that Web site design…”

  “The dancing baby?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Do it tomorrow.”

  “It’s due tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Do it in the morning.”

  She yawned again and shook her head reluctantly. “No time. Jordan—”

  “Annie,” he said, laying both hands on her shoulders and waiting until she looked up at him to continue. “Go to sleep. I’ll look after Jordan. You can’t work if you’re in a coma.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No buts,” he said, turning her toward the hallway and the bedrooms beyond. The door on his left was open, and one peek told him this was Jordan’s room. A mural of cartoon teddy bears and tigers and bunnies danced along the wall, and over the crib hung a mobile of stars and moons in bright, primary colors.

  Not a good mother, he thought. Right. She’d made sure Jordan had whatever she needed and the rest would come. If Annie’d give herself half a chance.

  “I don’t know, John,” she was saying even as she opened the door to her bedroom and stepped inside.

  The curtains were closed and the small, elegantly furnished room looked dark and cozy. Perfect for an afternoon nap. A green-and-white quilt lay across a queen-size bed, and a mountain of pillows were piled against the headboard. There was nothing John wanted more than to lie down on the bed with her, but right now his protective instinct was even stronger than the urge to touch her, hold her, kiss her…okay, better derail that particular train of thought.

  Leading her across the hardwood floor, he sat her down on the edge of the bed, then bent down to untie her sneakers and slip them off.

  “John,” she said, her voice already clouded with the promise of sleep, “you don’t have to do this. “I’m not helpless.”

  “I know that,” he said, standing up and easing her down onto the mattress. “But it makes me feel good, taking care of you. So don’t bruise my fragile ego by refusing, okay?”

  A quick half smile dusted across her face as she snuggled down into the nest of pillows. She sighed, stretched and closed her eyes. “Well, since you put it that way…”


  He grinned at her and reached for the crocheted afghan folded neatly at the foot of her bed. Opening it up, he flicked it into the air and let it fall gently down on top of her. Then he tugged the edge of the blanket up to her chin. For himself he paused long enough to smooth her hair back from her forehead, then bent low to drop a kiss at her hairline.

  “God, I missed you,” he whispered, wanting her to know that she hadn’t been far from his thoughts. He straightened up, looked down at her and opened his mouth to tell her more, then caught himself and snapped his mouth shut again.

  She was asleep.

  The steady rise and fall of her chest, the deep rhythm of her breathing in the quiet room told him she’d been more tired than either of them had thought. As he watched her, she rolled onto her side and curled up, one hand reaching across the pillows to the emptiness beside her.

  Alone, he thought. She’d been alone too long, and whether she knew it yet or not, she’d already taken the first step toward him. She was trusting him with Jordan. The most important person in the world to her.

  Now all he had to do was get her to trust him with her heart.

  Annie awoke to complete darkness.

  And she didn’t even remember going to bed.

  A split second later memory kicked in.

  “Jordan!” She threw the afghan to one side, leaped out of bed and raced for the door. Her baby. How could she have slept so long? What if Jordan needed her? What if John hadn’t been as capable as he’d thought? What if…?

  She flung open the door, charged down the short hall, burst into the living room and skidded to a stop. The room was clean. Toys, clothes, baby paraphernalia all stashed away, the room looked the way it used to, back when Annie still had time to care about such things. And unbelievably enough, there was the scent of spaghetti sauce drifting in the air.

  But she really wasn’t paying much attention to those things. Instead, she focused on John Paretti—professional soldier—sitting on the couch, in her now-tidy living room, Jordan lying peacefully in the crook of his arm. He held a baby bottle, and while Jordan slurped happily at her meal, he talked to her. Smiled at her.