Pregnant and Protected. Lilian Darcy

comfort.

      “What took you so long?” he demanded.

      She frowned at him, her gaze having traveled up his muscular body to his face. “Is that a cherry you’ve got on your chin?”

      Grabbing the kitchen towel he had slung over his shoulder, he hurriedly swiped his face. “I was giving her toast, and I let her spread a little of the jam around.”

      “She seems to have spread it more than a little,” she replied, trying not to laugh at the picture of what appeared to be a rattled Curt.

      He glared at her. “Aren’t you supposed to teach her how to eat in school?”

      “She eats just fine in school,” she solemnly assured him.

      “Then teach her how to eat just fine at home.”

      “Jessie, Jessie, Jessie!” Blue shrieked and came racing into the room, her hands smeared with cherry jam.

      “Halt!” Curt barked. “Sit!”

      “She’s not a dog,” Jessica said, her voice making it clear she dis ap proved of his tactics.

      But they did work.

      Blue stopped in her tracks and sank onto the floor.

      “Hands out,” Curt ordered.

      Blue obediently stuck out her messy hands.

      Using the towel he had slung over his shoulder, he tried to wipe her hands. Jessica could have told him that he’d need a damp cloth to get rid of all the stickiness, but she let him find that out for himself.

      “I’s not a dog. I’s a girl,” Blue declared.

      “No kidding,” Curt muttered.

      The little girl tilted her head to look up at her father. “Would you like me more if I was a dog?”

      Jessica’s heart just about broke there and then. Kneeling on the floor beside Blue, she quickly assured her, “Oh, honey, we like you just the way you are.”

      Curt hunkered down beside them, still intent on cleaning up Blue’s sticky hands and apparently blithely unaware of his daughter’s emotional needs.

      Jessica gave him a discreet poke in his side, right between the ribs. Her meaningful look finally spurred him into speaking.

      “Yeah right. Just the way you are,” he told Blue. “Only cleaner. Now march back into that kitchen, young lady.”

      Blue almost poked his eye out as she saluted him, leaving a smear of jam on her forehead and then on his. But she showed no signs of heading for the kitchen.

      “Help me out here,” Curt growled in Jessica’s direction.

      “I’m just here to observe,” she replied, wanting to tell him that Blue needed his un conditional love, not a love that was dependent on her being a spotlessly clean, good girl. But it wouldn’t be appropriate now, not with Blue present.

      “To observe?” he repeated in disbelief. “How useless is that?”

      “If you’d rather I went home…” Jessica turned as if to leave.

      “Stay.”

      “I’m not a dog, either,” she replied over her shoulder, one hand on the doorknob. “So don’t try ordering me around as if I were one.”

      “Please stay.”

      He wasn’t happy about having to ask politely, there was no mistaking that in the taut line of his jaw. But he did it.

      She sighed. “Let’s get to work.”

      “Let’s play,” Blue said.

      “First you need cleaning up.” Curt gingerly picked his daughter up, as if she were a package he was hauling from one room to another. He didn’t prop her against his shoulder or hold her in the crook of his arm. He simply lifted her—his hands spanning her waist, his arms outstretched—and marched her into the kitchen.

      Jessica followed him. The living room only had a colonial-style couch in a beige-and-orange plaid that had either been a garage sale find or a sign that Curt was totally style-deprived. The only other piece of furniture was a large TV set. The man clearly traveled light. She wondered how long he’d been in Chicago? When he’d gotten the leg injury that caused him to limp? Why he’d made love to her and then acted like nothing had ever happened between them?

      All off-limits subjects, she warned herself as she stepped into the kitchen.

      Morning sunlight streamed through the large window over the sink. The cabinets were white, as were all the appliances and the counter top, which had nothing but a coffeemaker on it.

      Seeing her interest, he said, “I child proofed all the cabinets so she’d be secure in this residence.”

      “That’s good.” So Blue would be secure, but would she ever know what it felt like to have her father give her an affection ate bear hug? Or would she forever be taking orders barked out in a curt voice? Forever falling short of expectations set too high to ever be accomplished.

      Jessica certainly knew how that felt. She didn’t want the same thing happening to Blue. Didn’t want to see the little girl’s natural exuberance drained right out of existence. Blue had already had enough tragedy in her life, what with her mother dying. What she needed now was stability, under standing and lots of love.

      Jessica’s arms ached to hold the little girl, to give her the loving she needed. The only thing that held her back was the knowledge that she was already in way over her head. Besides, the bottom line was that she was merely Blue’s preschool teacher. Curt was the parent in this scenario.

      Which only served to remind her of how she’d once day dreamed about what kind of father he’d be. During that pregnancy scare so long ago, she’d anticipated his reaction to hearing they’d made a baby together when they’d made love in the back seat of his Mustang. In her teenage fantasy he’d been surprised, and then he’d taken her in his arms and asked her to marry him. It wouldn’t matter that he’d just joined the marines. She’d wait for him.

      How foolish she’d been. How dangerously naïve. She’d badly wanted a baby, wanted someone of her own to love. That hadn’t changed. What had changed was Jessica.

      She no longer had to worry about pregnancy scares. Not after being gently told a few years back by her elderly family practitioner that she had a badly tipped uterus, so badly tipped that it was extremely doubtful she’d be able to conceive.

      So she’d closed the door on one dream and focused her attention on her work teaching preschoolers, never thinking that one day she’d be teaching Curt how to deal with his own daughter.

      Chapter 3

      DISMAYED AT THE direction of her thoughts and at the unexpected sting of threatening tears, Jessica mentally changed gears. This wasn’t about her or Curt, it was about Blue.

      Tugging out the yellow legal pad of paper where she’d written up her notes, she consulted the first page. “Most Daddy Boot Camps are designed for new fathers with infants,” she told him. “I’ve adapted a program to your special needs. I thought we’d cover the basics—eating, getting dressed, bathing and bedtime.”

      Startled, Blue looked out the window and practically howled, “Noooo! Not bedtime now.”

      “That’s right, it’s not bedtime now,” Jessica agreed in a soothing voice. “Let me see your beautiful clean hands.” Blue eagerly held them out for her appraisal. “Very nice.”

      “Very nice,” Blue agreed with a nod.

      “Looking good,” Curt said, tossing the dirty towel into the sink.

      “Looking good,” Blue repeated.

      “Is there any one of the areas I’ve listed that you’re