Laura Marie - A Navy SEAL's Surprise Baby

“That’s nice of you,” she said as she passed the wipes, “but my job description is to care for Quinn in order to allow you more rest.”

“I had to be up anyway. Got a text we’re doing early drills.” After wiping down his son, Calder tossed the soiled diaper in the trash, then reached for a fresh one.

“Put cream on his bottom.”

“What cream?”

She handed him a tube. “Last time I changed him, I noticed he looked a little chafed. No biggie. Just something to keep an eye on.”

“Sure.” Calder flipped open the lid. “How much?”

“A dime.”

“Did you grab this stuff at the store?”

“Uh-huh.” She stood near enough for him to feel her heat. Not a good thing, considering he hadn’t been as smart as her and still slept in just boxers. “Want me to finish up with him so you can grab a shower?”

“Trying to get rid of me?” He was only half teasing. Ever since the beach, she’d been quiet. He’d meant for their outing to be fun, but he couldn’t help but wonder what’d brought on her tears. He’d wanted to ask her on the drive home, and again while they’d bathed Quinn, but the timing hadn’t seemed right. Besides, were her tears even his business?

“No.” Her smile seemed genuine. “Just trying to be helpful.”

“Thanks.” The more time he shared with Pandora, the more confused he grew. When it came to the fairer sex, he excelled at the short game. One or two nights—tops. Mornings could be tricky, so he avoided them like brussels sprouts. So here he was on his second morning with the nanny and despite the fact they’d barely even spoken, let alone had sex, he honestly wasn’t sure how many more he could take. Something about her had him all riled up and flustered—in his line of work, never a good thing.

With Quinn tucked back into his snap-bottom T-shirt, Pandora scooped him up and cradled him against her.

His son looked happy, and that fact calmed Calder’s choppy nerves. Truly, he needed to chill. Pandora was the nanny. Nothing more. No need to rely on his usual shtick, or worry about spending too much time with one woman, because she wasn’t his woman. If anything, he should treat her like one of the guys. “Got anything going on this weekend? Thought we might get back to the beach, only this time do it up proper. More volleyball. Soggy sandwiches. It’ll be great.”

“Um...” She looked to the baby, out the window, to the changing table—anywhere but him. “That sounds amazing, but I have plans.”

“Oh?” He’d placed her firmly in the friend zone, so why did he feel shot down? It didn’t happen often, which left him needing answers. Only because he was her employer, no matter how much he wanted to drill her about what she was doing that could be more important than chilling with him and his son—he knew damn well he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. It would be a seriously needy move, and Calder never lacked for female attention.

“Rain check? I’ve never been on a picnic, so...” As her words trailed off, so did her eye contact. Interesting. What would the nanny be doing on Saturday? Or should that what be replaced by a who?

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