The Non-Commissioned Baby. Maureen Child

      “Dandy,” he muttered, then flopped down beside her on the couch. Instantly, he lifted one hip and pulled a leaking baby bottle from under his butt. “How can one kid need so much stuff?” he grumbled to no one in particular as he slammed the plastic bottle down onto the coffee table.

      Laura had only one lamp on, and in the dim light, he surveyed what had, only that morning, been his sanctuary.

      Blankets, clean diapers, bottles, pacifiers, lotion, powder—there was enough junk in the already small room to satisfy a battalion of babies. So why wasn’t the only baby present happy?

      “Why is she screaming like that?” he demanded.

      “I think she’s teething,” Laura said, and hitched Miranda higher on her shoulder.

      “Perfect,” he said. “How long does that last?”

      In the soft light, Laura smirked at him. “According to my watch, she should be finished in another three and a half minutes.”

      His eyebrows lifted. He knew sarcasm when he heard it, and if he wasn’t so damn tired, he might have taken a shot himself. As it was, his heart just wasn’t in it.

      Laura whispered to the baby while stroking the infant’s back in long, gentle motions. Jeff watched her, at first for lack of anything else to do, but after a moment, because he couldn’t seem to look away.

      And he also couldn’t figure out why. That nightgown of hers certainly wasn’t alluring. An oversized T-shirt emblazoned Life Is A Trip, Don’t Miss It hung to midthigh. Although, he thought, the surprisingly shapely legs revealed by that shirt were not bad at all. As he watched, she shifted slightly, tugging the hem down fruitlessly.

      Her thick brown hair lay loose on her shoulders, and he had to admit that the casual style complemented her features far better than the scraped-back ponytail she’d worn earlier. Her high cheekbones were more sharply defined in the soft light. Light brown eyebrows arched high over eyes that looked as deep and mysterious as a moonless night. Her generous mouth was curved in a half smile even as the baby in her arms flailed tiny fists against her face. Laura merely caught one of those fists, opened it and kissed the small, chubby palm.

      His jaw tightened, and something inside him twisted. A curl of desire trickled through him, and he deliberately squashed it. Shifting position on the sofa, he wished he had taken the time to grab his robe before leaving his room. Wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, Jeff felt suddenly, decidedly uncomfortable.

      He was staring.

      In the shadowy light, Laura saw his pale blue eyes darken as he watched her. Her gaze slid away, unfortunately dropping to his bare, muscular chest. Her heart beat faster, and her palms were damp. Breath after breath straggled into her lungs even as she told herself that she was probably just too warm in the overheated apartment.

      All she needed was to turn the heater down.

      This had nothing to do with how attractive he was. After all, she didn’t even notice things like that anymore.

      Laura’s gaze flicked to his again, then quickly away. Her stomach fluttered and twitched. Why was he looking at her so strangely? She wasn’t exactly a supermodel, so what did he find so fascinating that he couldn’t stop watching her?

      Miranda sucked in a gulp of air, coughed, choked, then cried again, pumping her little legs against Laura’s chest. Immediately Laura dismissed Jeff Ryan and the strange things he did to her stomach and concentrated on the baby.

      “It’s all right, sweetheart,” she soothed in a low, humming tone.

      “No, it’s not,” Jeff said, his voice grumpy. “Is she ever going to shut up so I can get some sleep tonight?”

      Laura frowned at him, furious at his impatience. Carefully, she shifted the baby to her lap and began to rock slowly. “Well, now that you’ve told her that she’s disturbing you, I’m sure she’ll settle right down,” Laura snapped. “After all, how can the throbbing pain of new, sharp teeth slicing through her gums compare with your being tired?”

      He scowled at her and sat forward, leaning his forearms on his thighs. “You know—” he started to say.

      “Yes, I do,” she cut him off neatly. “I know that you don’t give a—” she broke off, searched for a word, then continued “—hoot about this baby. All you care about is yourself.”

      “Up until eleven this morning,” he reminded her, “that’s all I had to worry about.”

      “Well, things’ve changed.”

      “Tell me about it.” He waved one hand at her and the baby. “In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve inherited a baby and a snotty nanny.”

      “Snotty?”

      “Snotty,” he repeated.

      Bouncing the baby a little faster on her knee, Laura’s rocking motion became a bit jerky. “You are the one who needed my help,” she told him stiffly, still smarting from the “snotty” remark.

      “Help,” he clarified. “Not harassment.”

      “Now I’m harassing you?”

      “What do you call it?” he asked hotly.

      “I call it looking out for this baby when no one else seems willing.”

      Miranda sniffled and rubbed her eyes with both fists. Then, reaching down, she snatched at the hem of Laura’s nightgown and lifted it. Jamming the fabric into her mouth, she chewed furiously.

      “I didn’t say I wasn’t willing,” he said.

      “Of course you did,” Laura countered, paying no attention to the suddenly quiet baby in her arms. “Not five minutes after I got here, you were talking about finding a way out of this situation.”

      A long silent moment passed, neither of them aware that Miranda had stopped screaming. Finally, Jeff stood up, and ran one hand across the top of his head. Something Laura had already noticed he did quite often when he was upset.

      “Look,” he said, gazing down at her in the half-light, “maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

      “How’s that?” She looked up at him, determined to keep her gaze locked on his face. Thankfully, she was immune to the distraction of a well-muscled chest, but there was no point in taking chances.

      “I’m not some kind of monster,” he told her, and his voice sounded distant, quiet. “I don’t even hate kids.”

      Wow. A testimonial. Her hold on Miranda tightened protectively.

      “It’s just that I’m not...” He shook his head and looked off into the shadowy corner of the room. “Hell, I’m nobody’s idea of father material.”

      Was that a wistful tone in his voice? “You could be,” she said hesitantly. “If you tried.”

      He snorted a choked laugh. “You’re a lot more sure than I am, Mary Poppins,” he commented.

      Laura stood up, hitching the baby higher in her arms. Forcing herself to look into Jeff’s eyes, she said, “I thought Marines weren’t afraid of a challenge.”

      One corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic half smile. She told herself that it was lucky for her she was beyond noticing things like the dimple he had in his right cheek.

      “Challenges, no,” he told her. “Slaughters, yes. And I have a feeling that kid’s already got me outnumbered.” Pausing, he listened for a minute, then said, “Hey, she’s not crying anymore.”

      True, Laura thought. Miranda had finally settled down, and neither one of them had realized it.

      Jeff looked at the baby in her arms, then pulled in a deep breath as his gaze slipped lower.

      Laura saw his jaw tighten. Glancing down, she looked for whatever it was that had caused