At Her Service: His Baby! / Major Attraction. Julie Miller

next month, all he wanted to think about was Kelly.

      He’d been looking forward to this too much to spoil it now.

      A cool breeze scuttled down the length of the narrow street and carried the scent of the ocean along with it. Jeff walked with the wind and felt it pushing him along, though he didn’t need any encouragement.

      Hell, he’d checked into his hotel room, dumped his bag on the bed and left, headed for Kelly’s house. He didn’t really need the hotel room, of course. He could have stayed on base. But when he was on leave, Jeff liked to get completely away from the job. He had a lot of unused pay stored up and besides, after eighteen months of roughing it in some very uncomfortable spots, he figured he’d earned a few luxuries. Like that giant Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom.

      He smiled to himself and quickened his step a bit. Oh, yeah, he wanted to get Kelly into that oversize tub, turn up the heat—on the water, as well as Kelly—and do a little experimenting beneath the pulse of those jets.

      His body stiffened instantly. Man. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head. Better watch the direction of his thoughts, or he wouldn’t be able to walk. But it seemed the closer he got to Kelly’s place, the more difficult it was to think of anything but her. Of putting his hands on her, feeling the brush of her breath on his face.

      And that just naturally made his body sit up and take notice.

      A whoop of laughter shattered his thoughts as a group of kids on skateboards and scooters raced by. Their voices hung in the clear air like pictures of innocence. Hell, Jeff didn’t even remember being that young. That carefree. He pulled one hand from his pocket and scraped it across his jaw.

      He’d gone from his last foster home directly into the Corps and had never looked back. Hadn’t seemed to be much point in remembering the past. It hadn’t been much fun living it, so why the hell would he want to waste time on memory lane?

      Jeff glanced over his shoulder to make sure the street was clear, then loped across the narrow road, easing his way between two parked cars. The houses here were crouched together on skinny lots with postage-stamp-sized yards. But he supposed living less than a block from the beach was compensation enough. Most of the places were at least fifty years old, though some had been remodeled recently, going up two, sometimes three stories. Kids and dogs littered the street, the whole place looked like a fifties movie set and ordinarily it was exactly the kind of place Jeff would have avoided like the plague.

      “That’s a hell of a note,” he muttered, smiling. “When a man feels more comfortable on a battlefield than in a neighborhood.”

      Still, seeing Kelly again would make it all worth it. If she was home. If she was still interested. If she even wanted to see him. “A whole lot of ifs in there,” he told himself, and locked his gaze on the house just ahead. Kelly’s place.

      It looked like a miniature fairy-tale cottage. Complete with rounded turret. She’d told him her late grandmother had left it to her, but Jeff couldn’t imagine anyone but Kelly living in it. It suited her, from the neatly trimmed hedges and flowers to the slate-gray tiles on the roof.

      And now that he was here, he wasn’t going to waste another minute admiring the damn house.

      Lifting the latch on the gate in the pale yellow picket fence, he pushed it open, smiling again at the familiar creak. He slid a quick glance at the driveway, noting the navy-blue Explorer. Did she have visitors, or had she bought a new car while he was gone? Hell. Maybe he shouldn’t have just left a message on her answering machine saying when he was coming over. Maybe he should have actually talked to her. For all he knew, she didn’t have any interest at all in seeing him.

      But it was too late now, he thought. If she was busy, he’d leave. And as he recalled, she didn’t have any trouble speaking her mind, so if she didn’t want to see him, she’d say so. But he’d waited too long to head back to the hotel now without even a glimpse of her. And if her visitor was a new boyfriend? Hell. He’d face that bridge if he came to it.

      Decision made, he moved up the walk, took the two short steps to the porch and reached for the dragon’s-head knocker on the heavy oak door. Lifting it, he smacked it twice on the pewter plate, then stood back smiling and waited.

      When the door opened, his grin faded. He’d been expecting—hoping—to see a short redhead smiling up at him.

      Instead, a Marine with dark brown hair and narrowed green eyes glared at him. “You Jeff Hunter?” he asked.

      Instinctively, Jeff went on full alert. His own gaze narrowed in return. Okay, so this little reunion wasn’t starting out just the way he’d planned. He tried to see past the man into the house, but he was taking up the whole damn doorway.

      “Who are you?” he asked.

      The Marine stiffened. “I’m asking the questions here. You Jeff Hunter?”

      “Yeah,” he said, “what’s th—?”

      The big man moved so fast, Jeff didn’t have a chance to react. Before he could get out of the way, a fist plowed into his face, snapping his head back and filling his mouth with the coppery taste of blood. Pain exploded inside his head and his ears rang with it.

      Damn, it had been years since he’d been blindsided like that. And generally, when he was punched, he had some idea why.

      “I’ve been waiting to meet you,” the guy said, and stepped out of the house, swinging that ham-like fist again. This time, though, Jeff was braced and ready. Head still pounding, he ducked under the blow and came up fighting.

      His fist slammed into the other man’s belly. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded even as he threw another punch after the first.

      No answer. Just a forearm around Jeff’s neck and a quick, flying trip to the tidy front lawn.

      He rolled and came up on the balls of his feet, crouched and prepared for attack or defense. This was what he’d been trained for, after all. But he usually liked to know just who the hell he was fighting.

      And somehow, it didn’t sit right, pounding on a fellow Marine. But he didn’t have much choice when the other man charged him, head down and bellowing like a bull. He got in a good shot and Jeff hit the ground. “That’s it. Marine or not, you’re goin’ down,” he promised as he jumped to his feet.

      Their bodies crashed together with a thud, and as a series of punches landed on his jaw, stomach and chin, Jeff sucked in the pain, buried it as he’d been taught and gave more than he took. He swung a hardened fist at the big man’s face and felt the sting of satisfaction ripple up his arm when it smacked the guy’s head back.

      “Had enough?”

      “Not nearly,” the other man answered.

      Absently, Jeff noted the sound of birds and the far-off roar of a lawn mower. Unreal, he thought. This shouldn’t be happening. He hadn’t come here as a warrior, but as a lover.

      “Who are you and where’s Kelly?”

      “Kelly’s none of your business.”

      “I say she is,” Jeff snapped, and threw a short, sharp jab at the man’s chin.

      “You’re wrong,” the man shouted, and landed a good shot to Jeff’s jaw.

      They circled each other warily and when he saw an opening, Jeff made a move to end this little battle. He threw a flying tackle his old high-school football coach would have been proud of. He took the man down and when he was flat on his back, Jeff grabbed hold of the neck of his uniform blouse, bunched it in his fist and lifted the other one menacingly, just inches from the man’s nose.

      “Okay,” he said, dragging air into heaving lungs, “you want to tell me what we’re fighting about?”

      “You son of a bitch,” the man muttered. “The fact that you don’t even know is reason enough to keep fighting.” He reached for Jeff’s throat.

      “Are