A Navy SEAL's Surprise Baby (8 page)

Famous last words.

Four hours into their project, Calder had more paint on him than the walls. “What am I doing wrong?”

She laughed. “Not that I’m an expert, but you’re tackling the job like—” she took a second to think “—I don’t know, like you’re charging up some hill with a bayonet instead of a paint roller.”

“A bayonet, huh?”

There he went again with his slow, easy grin. Her pulse skipped as if she was a little girl holding a carnival balloon. “Here...” She cupped her hand around his wrist, not caring that in the process, her palm got coated in paint. “Like this.”

By showing him the seemingly simple movement, her whole world turned upside down. Somehow he now stood behind her, pressed against her in an innocent yet perilous way. The easy up-and-down motion of the roller called to mind other activities men and women do to a similar rhythm and suddenly the heat, the longing was more than she could bear.

She tried turning away, but only made a bigger mess of things by facing him, gazing up at lips she wasn’t allowed to wonder about kissing.

“Am I doing it right?”

“Uh-huh....” How was she supposed to answer when he wasn’t doing anything at all other than standing there, radiating heat and a foreign erotic hum that rendered her dizzy-drunk as she stared into his blue eyes?

From over the baby monitor, Quinn cried.

“I—I should check on him.” Relief wobbled her legs. She had never been happier for Quinn to need her.

“Yeah.” Calder stood close enough that his warm exhales landed near her nose. He smelled so good.

For a split second, she closed her eyes, imagining his sweet taste. And then she dragged herself back to reality.

The old Pandora would’ve ignored Quinn in favor of a frenzied roll in the hay. New-and-improved Pandora forced a deep breath, then, as gracefully as possible when her limbs were oh-so-pleasantly entangled with a hulking navy SEAL and a paintbrush and roller, extricated herself from the situation.

“Duty calls.” She ducked under Calder’s arm to escape to the hall bathroom where she washed paint from her hands. A glance in the mirror showed dilated pupils and flushed skin. The lovely shade of lemon sorbet marked her breasts where they’d brushed against Calder’s chest.

Cheeks superheated, nipples mortifyingly hard, she craved a drink almost as badly as Calder’s touch.

The thought scared her.

Brought her down from the clouds to scurry into Quinn’s room where she addressed the infant’s needs instead of her own.

Chapter Eight

Pushing midnight, with Quinn long asleep, bone-deep exhaustion settled over Calder—only not from the physical exertion of painting, but from keeping his hands off his son’s nanny.

Calder sat on one side of the kitchen floor, leaning against the cabinets. He sat on the floor because Pandora said he was too dirty to sit on the furniture and she was right.

She sat opposite him, daintily plucking green peppers from her pizza and setting them in a soggy pile on the edge of her plate.

“When I ordered,” he asked, “why didn’t you tell me of your apparent green-pepper aversion?”

“If you like them, it’s not a big deal for me to take them off.” Having finally completed her task, she took her first bite and smiled. “Mmm. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

She smiled again as she chewed. A good three hours earlier, her ponytail had gone crooked, and yellow now streaked her cheeks and hair. Yellow overspray from the roller speckled the lenses of her glasses. He had never seen her looking more lovely. And he had never wanted a woman more, yet been so keenly aware he couldn’t have her. Was that the force driving his attraction? The fact that she was off-limits?

“Green peppers aside,” Calder asked after his second slice, “when’s the last time you did something nice for yourself?”

“All the time.” She sipped her cola. He’d offered her a beer, but she’d declined.

“Like what?”

“Last Friday, Quinn and I went to some yard sales again. We had a great time.”

“Yeah, but all you bought were things for my house or Quinn.”

“I grabbed a few books for myself. And those two throw pillows. And I forgot to mention it, but I met one of the neighbors and even joined her club. Quinn and I are now official members of the Neighborhood Beautification Committee.”

“That sounds indulgent,” he teased after finishing his brew.

She rolled her eyes. “You sound like one of those morning talk shows where they have some expert talk about how stressed we all are, and how women should indulge themselves by soaking in bubble baths or frolicking in potpourri.”

I’d like to see you frolic—naked.

That thought sent Calder reaching for another beer.

“For me anyway, all that’s a crock. I wasted a lot of time doing only what I wanted in life and it cost me—dearly.” She shrugged, “May sound cheesy, but now I get more satisfaction from making other people happy.”

“Makes sense.” Whoa. Had the mysterious Pandora Moore actually opened up? He almost asked what specifically she’d lost, but then thought better. Interrogation wasn’t his strongest suit, but he knew enough to recognize he’d learn more from carefully listening to her than pressing for answers. Besides, she was a genuinely nice person. Aside from his team members, he hadn’t met all that many.

“Thank you for my lemon sorbet.” She was back to plucking green peppers. “Once we clean all the drips and put everything back in place, your house will be very pretty.”

It was on the tip of Calder’s tongue to tell her no house could be as pretty as her, but even though the statement would’ve been true, she deserved more than his old brand of clichéd
cheese.
“I think so, too. Might also make it more homey for Quinn.”

She nodded, then rose to put her plate in the dishwasher. She held out her hand for his.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” She stared at him a moment too long. “You must be exhausted.”

“Trust me, I’ve had worse days.” He joined her in clearing the small dinner mess and putting away what remained of their meal. “Tell me about this club you and Quinn joined.”

“It’s no big deal.” She leaned against the counter and shrugged. “Just a friendly group helping to keep the park and main entrance areas clean. I really like the woman who leads it. Her name’s Lila. She’s a grandmotherly type. Quinn took an instant liking to her, too.”

“Nice.” He wiped down the counter. “He doesn’t get to see much of my mom—which reminds me, we’re invited for a long weekend with her and my stepdad at some resort. Interested?”

“When?” Just like that, her mood turned evasive again. She’d darted her gaze and drew in her lower lip.

“Third weekend in October.”

She took a moment to ponder this, then smiled. “Sure.”

The issue should’ve been no big deal. So why was he back to wondering what she was trying to hide?

*

A
FTER
C
ALDER
HAD
gone to bed and she’d checked on Quinn, Pandora found it impossible to sleep. Her room smelled strongly of paint, but she liked the newness. The scent was faint in Quinn’s room, but she’d cracked his window just in case.

While pacing her room, she could’ve told herself she couldn’t sleep because of excitement over their upcoming trip, and it would be true. After all, she’d never been on a true vacation—not that this was, since she’d technically be working, but just staying at the resort would be a new thrill.

She could also claim insomnia over the sheer wonder of her beautiful new room. She couldn’t wait to hit more yard sales and thrift stores, finding just the right pictures and knickknacks. She’d decorate it as if it were her own. Sort of a practice run for when she and Julia finally had their own home.

The truth behind her inability to close her eyes, though, was a bit more complicated, centered around a certain SEAL whose mere presence raced her pulse.

Never having been big on small talk, she’d expected their day spent together to be agony, yet he was surprisingly easy to talk to. But maybe that was because he’d done most of the talking. He never ran out of stories and she’d very much enjoyed hearing of his many travels.

So why, then, had she opened her big fat mouth during dinner?
I wasted a lot of time doing only what I wanted and it cost me—dearly.

Pandora covered her face with her hands.

Had Calder read anything into her statement? Surely not, or he wouldn’t have invited her to meet his mother and stepdad. She was acting paranoid, but spending time behind bars did that to a person.

*

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, Calder watched on while Pandora fed Quinn Cheerios and pinchable-size banana chunks and blueberries. The baby had milk in his sippy cup, but still managed to make quite a mess. He’d learned berries can be smooshed before eating. Each time he
popped
one on his high-chair tray, he giggled.

Realizing his kid had learned something—no matter how minute—did funny things to Calder’s heart. Not the touchy-feely sort, he couldn’t tell whether he felt parental pride or the same garden-variety affection he would for any cute kid with purple cheeks. But then, that was also significant, because when was the last time he’d even noticed a kid other than his own?

Then there was Pandora. Hair still damp from the shower and her T-shirt clinging to certain curvy areas, he couldn’t help but wonder if this little domestic scene was the real deal. If he leaned to his right, cupping her left breast, would he earn a swat and a dirty look or the sort of grown-up giggle that led to a steamy kiss?

He exhaled sharply.

This kind of thinking wouldn’t do.

He shouldn’t be consumed by lustful thoughts about his son’s nanny. No doubt a night started at Tipsea’s and ended with a hottie at the motel across the street would heal his horny afflictions.

Only trouble was he didn’t want to go to a bar. He wanted to stay home with Quinn and Pandora. Which made no sense.

“What are your plans for today?” Pandora asked.

“Guess since poor Quinn got stuck watching us paint yesterday, we could do something together today? I mean, if you’re available?”

“Yesterday at Lowe’s, I noticed the pansies were out. If you feel up to it, we could plant a few dozen in the front flower bed. Quinn loves the park sandbox, so I’m sure he’d get a kick out of gardening.”

“Not a half-bad idea. Mom always used to have me help out in the yard. Though it’s been years since I’ve done anything but mow.”

Two hours later, supplies were purchased and unloaded.

Only trouble was, when Calder looked to Pandora for guidance as to how they should proceed, she sat on the pile of three topsoil bags with Quinn on her lap, both of them looking at him.

“What next?” he asked.

She frowned. “Sorry. I’ve never really done anything like this. Always wanted to, but...” She lifted the hood on Quinn’s sweatshirt. Clouds had moved in, turning the September day chilly.

“This whole flower plan was your idea.”

Along with an adorable grin, she said, “It can’t be that hard.”

Calder shook his head then whipped out his phone. “I’ll look it up.” A minute later, he said, “I officially feel like an idiot and you should, too.” He smiled to let her know he was teasing. “Pretty simple. We pluck all the weeds and existing dead crap. Dump on the new dirt. Stick the plants in the ground. If we still have energy, we can go back to Lowe’s for the mulch the sales guy kept pushing.”

“You’re right—” another grin shot his way “—I do feel stupid.” To Quinn, she asked, “Ready to get to work?”

The baby gurgled.

She sat him on the brick garden path where he proceeded to grab for anything green and shove it in his mouth. “Maybe including Quinn in this project wasn’t such a hot idea.”

“How about for the weeding part,” Calder said, “you two supervise?”

When the old-and-married crowd at work occasionally complained about the household chores their wives had them do, Calder had always been sympathetic. He’d assumed he’d never want to be saddled with that kind of boredom. But it turned out the more he worked, the better the yard looked. His yard.
Their
yard. And for whatever reason, he liked the sound of that. Not cool for a guy who knew he could never handle true commitment.

Finished weeding, he and Quinn broke up the ground a little with the spade they’d purchased. “There you go, buddy,” he urged his son. “Stab it. Get it all nice and loose.”

Quinn shrieked every time he slammed the spade into the dirt.

“Aw, he makes me wistful for when my kids were young.” A woman about his mother’s age approached across the driveway.

“Lila, hi.” Pandora rose, giving the woman a hug. “This is Quinn’s dad, Calder.”

“Nice to finally meet you.” She extended her hand for him to shake, but as he was as dirty as his son, they both laughed and air shook.

“Lila’s the leader of the cleanup club I told you about.”

“Seems like a clean-enough neighborhood.” Calder sat back on his heels. “Is there enough litter that you need a whole group?”

Quinn grabbed a clump of dirt, bringing it to his mouth.

“Hold up, bud.” Calder grabbed his son around the waist, swooping him onto his lap. He turned to Pandora. “Think he’s hungry?”

“For finding trouble,” she teased, taking the infant from him, brushing off the soil he’d gotten on his jeans and T-shirt.

“Sorry,” Calder said to Lila. “Seems like ever since Quinn landed in my life, I’m always a step behind whatever mayhem he’s causing.”

“Comes with the territory.” Lila warmly smiled. “And to answer your question, you’d be surprised how inconsiderate people can be when it comes to improper trash disposal. But trash isn’t our only focus. We also beautify the entries, decorating them for holidays and such.”

“That’s nice.” Not being all that big a fan of holidays, Calder wasn’t sure what else to say. He’d spent last Christmas in Afghanistan. It hadn’t been a good time.

“It means a lot to some of our older neighbors whose families are grown and far away. Reminds them of happier times.”

“Sure.”

“Hard to believe the three of you aren’t a family.” Lila fixed her smile on Quinn, tweaking his sneaker. “You seem so comfortable together.”

“Yeah, well—” Calder thumbed toward his still-to-be-finished job, then the sky “—I should finish. Looks like rain.”

“Of course.” Lila gave Pandora another hug, asking her to stop by for coffee soon.

Once she’d left, Pandora said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to involve you in my club.”

“Not a problem.” Despite Quinn’s
help,
he’d spread the fresh soil and now planted yellow flowers. “She seems nice.”

“She is. But I know most men don’t like to be bothered with these kinds of things.”

Once again, alarm bells rang. Not wanting to alert her to the fact he found her statement—her overall behavior—odd, he kept planting. She’d reacted in a similar manner that day he’d met her at the grocery store. As if she’d grown accustomed to appeasing a hothead. Had she once been in an abusive relationship? The thought of a man doing her physical harm made him nauseous. “In case it escaped your notice, I’m not
most
men. I’m guessing it gets lonely for you, here alone all day with Quinn. I’m glad you met a friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He glanced her way, pretending not to notice her shimmering green eyes. It took more willpower than he’d known he possessed not to flat out ask her about her past. Instead, he realized no matter what Natalie told him, for his own morbid curiosity, he had to know what Pandora had been through.

*

O
N
W
EDNESDAY
, P
ANDORA
tidied the house in preparation for one of Natalie’s regular home inspections. Though Pandora had nothing to be nervous about, she took extra care with scrubbing the backsplash grout behind the kitchen sink.

“Quinn,” she said, “do you think all this cleaning will help your daddy want to keep me around for a nice long time?”

The boy cooed from his walker.

“Yes? Awesome!” She knelt alongside him to kiss his chubby cheek.

By the time her friend arrived, the home fairly sparkled and the air smelled rich from fresh-baked lemon poppy-seed bread.

“Wow,” Natalie said as she admired the kitchen. “I love this color. Your idea or Calder’s?”

Glowing from her friend’s praise, Pandora busied her flighty hands by slicing them each a piece of the bread. “Surprisingly, Calder’s idea to paint, but he let me pick the color, which I thought was awfully nice. Since the windows are a standard size, I’ve got my eye out for curtains. Although I’ve always thought it might be fun to learn to sew. Wonder if the thrift store ever gets sewing machines?”