Man...Mercenary...Monarch. Joan Elliott Pickart

never been. So be it.

      “Who are you, Laura?” he said, his voice slightly husky.

      “I…” Laura started, then drew a much-needed breath. “I’m a very ordinary person. I grew up in Michigan in a loving family. I have an older sister, Linda, who is married. We’re very close, friends as well as sisters.

      “I went to Michigan State and got degrees in business and public relations. For the past five years I’ve had a marvelous position as social secretary for the daughters of a prominent family.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

      “Why are you in Hope, Arizona, of all places?”

      “I’m completing an assignment connected to my job. Tonight…well, I’m just not accustomed to having so many idle hours and I was restless, just couldn’t sit still for another second.”

      “And you were lonely,” John said quietly.

      Laura took a sip of her drink, then looked at John again.

      “Yes,” she said, lifting her chin. “Since we agreed to be honest with each other, I’ll admit I was very lonely tonight. My life suddenly seemed empty, with no…no rainbow in my future.”

      “Rainbow?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What do you want to find at the end of that rainbow? The ever-famous pot of gold?”

      “No.” Laura shook her head. “Happiness. A special man, my soul mate, to share my life, to have babies with. See? I told you I was a very ordinary person. Nothing fancy.”

      “You’re not ordinary, Laura. You’re special. You’re honest, real, like a breath of fresh air.”

      Man, John thought, where was this stuff coming from? He didn’t say junk like this to women, like some corny would-be poet or whatever. But he meant it. Laura was special, rare, and he was very glad she’d walked into Jake’s Saloon tonight.

      “Thank you,” Laura said, smiling. “That’s a lovely thing to say.” Her smile faded. “Now it’s your turn, John. I’m here. I’m listening. Talk to me.”

      Chapter Two

      Laura watched John as he jerked his head around to stare at the band, then the bottle of beer in front of him, then at a point somewhere above her head.

      He was getting cold feet, she thought, shrugging out of her jacket. John was warring with himself, deciding if he was actually going to keep his half of their agreement.

      She could understand his hesitation. It would be very difficult for a man like John to reveal his innermost thoughts.

      But he would do it, she just somehow knew that he would, because he was a man of his word.

      She felt so connected to John, as though they really had known each other for many years. How strange all of this was. Yet it was wonderful, too.

      Yes, John would talk to her, share with her, when he was ready. She would simply wait patiently…wait for John.

      A silent minute ticked by. Then two. Three.

      John cleared his throat and shifted his gaze slowly to meet Laura’s.

      “I grew up in Hope,” he said quietly, “but I never felt as though I belonged here. I left as soon as I was old enough. That’s my fault, the sense of not fitting in, not my family’s. They’re good people.”

      Laura nodded, her eyes riveted on John’s.

      “My family doesn’t know that I’m back. I checked into a motel because I needed some time alone, to figure out what I’m going to do about…” John stopped speaking and shook his head. “Hell.”

      Laura reached across the table and covered one of John’s hands with one of hers as she leaned toward him.

      “Going to do about what?” she said. “What’s wrong, John?”

      John turned his hand over and grasped Laura’s. Heat shimmered up her arm, across her breasts, then began to swirl throughout her. She could feel a warm flush stain her cheeks, but made no attempt to free her hand from John’s hold.

      So strong, she thought, yet so gentle.

      “The last time I was home,” John said, looking directly at her again, “I came here, to Jake’s, met up with a woman I knew and we spent the night together. We both understood there were no strings attached. It was just…well, a night.”

      “I understand,” Laura said.

      “A couple of days ago I received a letter from a friend of that woman,” John continued. “It had taken quite a while for the letter to reach me because I was out of the country. The letter said that the woman I knew had died several months before.”

      “Oh, my goodness,” Laura said.

      “Yeah, well, there’s more,” John said, his grip on Laura’s hand tightening slightly. “The woman had…she never told me, but…” He shook his head.

      “John?” Laura said.

      “She had my baby, Laura,” he said, his voice gritty with emotion. “My son. She hadn’t planned on telling me, nor making any demands on me, but then she died.

      “Her friend took the baby and started the process of finding me to tell me I had a son, that I needed to be his father because he no longer had a mother. He doesn’t have anyone.”

      “Dear heaven,” Laura whispered. “A baby. You have a son who needs you to make a home for him, to raise him and—how old is he now?”

      “Eleven months. He’s going to celebrate his first birthday pretty soon. His name is Jeremiah.”

      “Have you seen him?”

      “No.” John frowned. “I spoke with the woman on the phone and told her I’d pick Jeremiah up tomorrow. I needed some sleep and a plan for—ah hell, Laura, what am I going to do? How can a man like me raise a son?”

      Sudden tears stung Laura’s eyes as she saw the raw pain on John’s face, heard it in his voice. She wanted to close the distance between them, hug him, hold him, tell him he wasn’t alone.

      “A man like you?” she said, blinking away the unwelcome tears. “You’re saying that in such a derogatory manner, and you shouldn’t. You’re warm and caring. You were the one, the only one, who stepped in and rescued me from that aggressive man.

      “You’re holding my hand, John, and you could crush it with very little effort, but I know my hand is safe. I know that I’m safe with you, because your strength is tempered with infinite gentleness.

      “How can a man like you raise a son? By just being you, by loving Jeremiah with all your heart. You’re his father, and I think he’s a lucky little boy to have you.”

      “Thank you, Laura,” John said. “More than I can even express in words.” He drew a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I guess all I can do is the best I can do. Man, I’ve never even held a baby before, let alone…I suppose there are books I can read about child care or something.”

      Laura nodded. “You can use books as a guideline, but don’t expect Jeremiah to do exactly what is described. Babies are people in small bodies. They have personalities, likes, dislikes, just as adults do. You’ll need to follow your own instincts.”

      John chuckled, the rumbly, male sound causing a shiver to course through Laura.

      “You’re assuming that I have some paternal instincts,” he said, smiling. “If I do, they’re news to me.”

      Laura matched his smile. “They’re there. Trust me. No, correct that. Trust and believe in yourself, Daddy.”

      John’s smile faded. “Daddy. Father. Whew. I guess it’s really sinking in that I have a son.” He paused. “I wonder