Pregnant and Protected. Lilian Darcy

them in rapid-fire succession. “How often do you have fire drills? Are you trained in CPR and pediatric first aid? Is the school registered or licensed with the state?”

      She appeared to be im pressed by his questions. “I see you’ve been doing some reading as I suggested.”

      “That’s right.” He hated feeling in com pe tent, so he’d made it a point to find out as much as he could in the past few days. A lot of what he read he considered to be psychological babble. He was a bottom-line kind of guy. But he was encouraged to read that kids needed schedules and routines. So did marines. The recruits he trained needed the discipline to follow orders.

      Having a raw recruit overcome their fear of heights enough to finally rappel down a tower gave him a feeling of accomplishment. Maybe this was Curt’s chance to overcome a fear of his own—the fear of being a parent. Over coming fear was another big deal for a marine.

      Yeah, he liked looking at the process that way.

      “Did you hear anything I just said?” she asked him in exasperation.

      “Yes. You said you were trained in CPR and pediatric first aid, that the preschool is licensed by the state and that you have the required number of fire drills.” Learning to concentrate on more than one thing at one time was another advantage he possessed over an average dad. Another thing the marines had taught him. “Now tell me the secrets of dressing.”

      “Secrets, huh? You make it sound as if there’s only one way of accomplishing these goals. There isn’t. Some times it’s learning by trial and error. What I can do is give you some suggestions. First off, I’d mention that Blue here is a little girl, not a sack of potatoes.”

      “Blue is a little girl,” Blue repeated proudly. “Is not potatoes. Is not a dog.”

      “Your point being?” Curt demanded of Jessie.

      “Just that you seemed a bit un com fort able carrying her.”

      That’s because he was a man more accustomed to carrying an M-16 rifle than a kid.

      “Show me. Please,” he added.

      “Just act naturally.”

      “Easy for you to say,” he muttered.

      “Here…” Jessica bent down to lift Blue in her arms, propping the little girl on one hip. “Like this.”

      “That’s a girly way to hold a kid,” Curt scoffed.

      She raised an eyebrow at his tone of voice. “Oh, so now you’re the expert?”

      “Here.” He took Blue from her and after an awkward moment or two, shifted his daughter so that she was perched atop his shoulders.

      “Giddeeup horsey!” Blue shrieked, digging her heels into his chest.

      “Be careful she doesn’t use your hair as the horsie’s reins,” Jessica warned him.

      “It’s not long enough,” he replied, clearly not concerned.

      He was right. But since his hair wasn’t long enough for her to take handfuls of, Blue instead grabbed hold of his ears.

      “No grabbing of ears,” he ordered, wincing slightly. “Do you read me, young lady?”

      “Yessir.” She tried to salute and in doing so almost fell off his shoulders. Lowering her, he gingerly propped her against one shoulder and held her in the crook of his left arm.

      “Gotta go potty!” Blue loudly announced, whereupon he hastily lowered her to the floor as if she were radioactive.

      “Need any help?” Jessica inquired, trying not to laugh.

      “Who are you asking, Blue or me?” Curt said.

      “Both of you.”

      “Blue can go to the bathroom on her own, thank God. The cabinets in there are kid proofed, too.”

      Jessica was pleased to note that he still kept a watchful eye toward the open bathroom door down the hallway.

      During Blue’s absence, Jessica thought this might be a good time to address the issue of emotions. “Blue needs to know that you’ll love her no matter what, not just when she’s all cleaned up or when she’s a good girl. Remember that your child will look to you as a model of how to express emotions, so you need to make a point of ex pressing them honestly.”

      Emotions weren’t some thing a marine needed. In fact, in his mind they did nothing but get in the way. As for honesty, he didn’t think Jessie really wanted him ex pressing his inner panic. No, giving in to fear never accomplished anything in his view.

      “Blue needs to see signs of your love and affection,” Jessica continued. “Various ways of doing that are giving her hugs and kisses to congratulate her when she completes a difficult task, or to console her when she cries, or to comfort her when some thing hurts.”

      “Is that what your father did for you?”

      His question caught her by surprise. “No,” she quietly replied. “Quite the opposite.”

      “Yet you seem to have turned out okay,” Curt pointed out.

      “Appearances are deceiving.”

      “So basically you’re telling me that if I don’t hug her at just the right time she’ll be screwed up for life? Gee, no pressure there.”

      “I thought marines were used to dealing with pressure,” Jessica countered.

      “Yeah, well, I still don’t think pa renting should be so complicated,” Curt grumbled.

      “Stick around, soldier. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Jessica drawled with a grin.

      Sucker punched. That’s how Curt felt. From nothing more than Jessie’s unexpectedly saucy smile. Ambushed by a woman with eyes so green they put sunlit leaves to shame.

      Jeez, he was getting down right poetic here. A bad sign.

      Or was it? Since when had being with an attractive woman been a crime? Since he’d become a dad probably.

      But this was the best of both worlds. In Jessie he had a woman he was finding increasingly attractive, and a woman who knew how to take care of his daughter.

      “I’s done,” Blue proudly announced from the bathroom. “I’s flushing now.”

      “I’ve tried correcting Blue’s grammar,” Curt told Jessie, not wanting Jessie the Brain to think his kid was stupid.

      “You don’t need to worry or to correct her each time. Instead you could just repeat the words yourself, perhaps say I am done cleaning the kitchen, so she’ll hear for herself how the words go together. It’s a natural progression as two- and three-year-olds start stringing words together, often mimicking what you say.”

      “One of the reasons I now watch what I say around her,” Curt admitted.

      “Good idea,” she replied.

      Was the sunlight coming in through the window playing tricks or had that been a flash of at traction he’d just seen in her eyes? Curt wondered. Maybe Jessie had decided to stop holding a grudge against whatever it was he’d done back in high school.

      Or maybe he was just imagining things.

      He’d been on his own for so long that the thought of flirting with a pretty woman was enough to make his blood flow a little faster. This could get interesting, he decided with a sense of anticipation.

      While Blue sat on the living room floor and played with her toys—an eclectic collection of trucks, dolls, and a well-worn teddy bear—Jessica put Curt through his paces.

      “First things first,” she briskly told Curt. “Let’s begin with emergency first aid. How much do you know?”

      “Enough to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,”