The Non-Commissioned Baby. Maureen Child

the electric blue lace bikini underwear she wore. Laura’s one concession to femininity in her wardrobe had always been her secret weakness for beautiful lingerie.

      Well, it wasn’t a secret anymore.

      “Oh, my goodness,” she blurted as she tugged at the fabric even while turning her back on Jeff.

      “Wow,” he murmured.

      Laura silently thanked heaven that it was so dark in the living room. She felt the heated flush of embarrassment rush to her cheeks and was relieved he wouldn’t see it.

      “Who would have thought you’d be hiding lace under all that camouflage you were wearing earlier?”

      It would have been too much to hope for that he would ignore what he’d just seen. But did he really have to talk about it, too?

      “I think it would be better if we just pretend this never happened,” Laura said as she tugged at the fabric, hoping to restore her dignity. But the baby, happily chewing on the soft cotton, was blissfully unaware of Laura’s predicament. Little fingers curled into the material and hung on with a surprisingly strong grip.

      “Nothing did happen,” Jeff stated.

      Laura shot him a quick, furtive look over her shoulder. An odd gleam shone in his eyes, but she dismissed it as a trick of the low lighting. For whatever reason, he wasn’t going to talk about her underwear anymore. That was enough.

      “Good,” she said quickly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she grunted as she stepped around him, keeping her back to him at all times. “I think I’ll put Miranda down. She seems contented enough now.”

      He chuckled.

      She heard him, but since she still wasn’t decently covered, she didn’t turn around. “What’s so funny?” she demanded, stopping just outside her open bedroom door.

      “Nothing,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “It’s just that I was thinking how alike Miranda and I are after all.”

      “What does that mean?” she asked, knowing even as she did so that it was a mistake.

      “It means that pulling a woman’s nightgown up always makes me pretty content, too.”

      She inhaled sharply. Straightening her shoulders, she ignored the deep chuckles coming from behind her and walked into her room. When the door was safely closed, Laura leaned back against it.

      Miranda laughed, let go of the nightgown and patted Laura’s cheeks.

      “Oh, sure,” she said to the smiling baby. “Now you cooperate.”

      

      Jeff cupped his head in his hands and inhaled the scent of the strong black coffee in front of him. His eyes felt like two marbles in a bucket of sand.

      Between the baby’s restless first night in his apartment and the heart-stopping peep show Laura had unwittingly given him, he had lain awake most of the night. Visions of blue lace and smooth, lightly tanned flesh had haunted him.

      Even now, he could see her, flustered and embarrassed as she turned away from him. If the light in the room had been better, Jeff was willing to bet that he could have seen a blush steal across her cheeks.

      How long had it been since he’d known a woman to blush?

      He inhaled sharply, blew the air out of his lungs in a frustrated sigh and told himself that he would be in real bad shape if he was attracted to women like Laura Morgan.

      Thankfully, he wasn’t.

      Give him a well-dressed, sophisticated career woman every time. The motherly type had never done a thing for him. Although, you really couldn’t classify those blue lace bikini panties as motherly.

      He groaned quietly.

      Should have taken another sick day, he thought A man just couldn’t function on two hours’ sleep. Unless of course, he thought as he leaned back in his chair, he was on a battlefield. Live ammunition whizzing past your head had a way of waking you right up.

      “Captain?”

      Jeff blinked groggily, almost surprised to find himself in his office. He looked at the younger man poking his head in the doorway. “What is it, Corporal Warren?”

      “A Private Higgins is here, sir. Says he has those files you wanted.”

      “Send him in,” Jeff ordered sharply. He’d been waiting all morning for these records to arrive.

      A young, eager-looking redheaded kid in the standard camouflage utility uniform strode into his office. File folders tucked neatly beneath his left arm, the kid came to an abrupt stop in front of Jeffs desk and flashed a picture-perfect salute.

      Nodding absentmindedly, Jeff reached for the files.

      “This is all I could find, sir,” the private said as he handed the manila folders over. “If you’d like, I could make a few calls, see if there’s anything else available.”

      Jeff opened the files and glanced quickly over the pages inside. Then he looked up again. “That won’t be necessary, Private. Thank you.”

      “Aye, sir.” Another salute, an abrupt about-face and the kid was gone.

      “Corporal Warren,” Jeff called. His clerk appeared instantly.

      “Sir?”

      “Close my door, Corporal. No interruptions.”

      “Aye, sir.”

      In seconds, the door was closed and Jeff was alone. Picking up his coffee, he started reading all about the man who had given him Miranda. Not that he didn’t remember him. But it had been more than five years since he’d seen the sergeant. And in the military, an officer served with so many men—sometimes names and faces blurred without a good prodding of the memory.

      Twenty minutes later, Jeff sat back in his chair, flipping the file closed with the tips of his fingers. Setting his elbows on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingers and stared at the windows opposite his desk.

      Memories raced through his mind. Desert sun, mind-boggling heat and the constant adrenaline rush of impending battle. Days and nights spent in the company of men willing to die at a moment’s notice.

      Abruptly, he reached for his phone and the Rolodex on the corner of his desk. He flipped quickly through the cards until he’d found the one he wanted.

      Punching in a phone number, he held the receiver to his ear, sat back again and waited.

      

      Laura woke up instantly and lay perfectly still.

      Even before her mind had assured her that everything was all right, she heard his voice, a hushed whisper in the darkness.

      Turning her head on the pillow until she was facing the newly purchased crib against the far wall in her room, Laura saw Jeff, leaning his forearms on the top rail, staring down at the sleeping baby.

      “I remember your father now, kiddo,” he was saying, his voice oddly tight. “I called up his service records today.”

      The baby whimpered in her sleep, and Jeff reached down to awkwardly pat her. Laura smiled in the darkness.

      “He was a good man, your dad,” Jeff said. “Got a Bronze Star for bravery.”

      Miranda kicked her blankets off, and Jeff carefully replaced them.

      A trickle of warmth moved through Laura. Maybe she had misjudged him. Maybe he cared more for the baby than even he knew.

      Moonlight, peering through a part in the curtains, washed her otherwise dark room with a pale ivory cast. In the indistinct light, Jeff was no more than a shadow, yet she could read tension in every line of his body.

      “We fought together, you know.” He sighed heavily and shook his head, as if lost in the memories.