Laura Altom - A Navy SEAL's Surprise Baby

Commitment wasn’t his thing.

He sure as hell didn’t want to hear about the so-called promised land of marriage. What a joke. Besides, for all practical purposes he was married—to the navy.

He loved his job. He loved how being a SEAL made the ladies go weak in the knees—not that he bragged about being a SEAL. That wouldn’t be cool. But they were a different breed and women smelled them from a mile away. Adrenaline rushes and seeing the world were his life. Before Quinn, the apartment he’d shared with Mason, Heath and Cooper had only been a temporary layover between adventures.

“Duh,” Heath said, “the nanny. Is she hot?”

Mason groaned. “Nannies rank right up there with kindergarten teachers on the sexy meter. I like to think there’s a whole lot of naughtiness going on under all that nice.”

Calder crossed his arms and glared. “Show some respect here, people. She’s nice—and really knows her stuff around Quinn.” And though he sure as hell wouldn’t mention it to this crew, when Quinn had helped himself to Pandora’s glasses, and she’d laughed, Calder had been forced to do a double take. In that moment, with the morning sun making her complexion glow, holding his giggling son, she’d been genuinely pretty. Wholesome. Exactly the look he wanted for his son. “I’m lucky to have found her and wouldn’t even think of screwing up a good working relationship by making it personal.”

Mason roared. “Just keep tellin’ yourself that, man.”

“Keep it down,” Garrett snapped from the other end of the table. He and his wife, Eve, had just had a baby boy and Garrett was obsessed with showing everyone his latest cell-phone videos. “My son’s talking...”

Calder shook his head. As the parent of his own infant, he knew kids were far from expert communicators. Guilt consumed him for not feeling more in regard to his son. What was wrong with him? When Pandora asked how Calder stood being away from Quinn, he hadn’t had a good answer. Single-handedly caring for an infant was so stressful, whenever he got the chance to bolt, he did.

So why didn’t he miss his baby and take hundreds of pictures of Quinn? Most days, Calder felt as if he lacked the most basic of dad genes. Probably had something to do with the way Quinn had abruptly entered his world.

But now that he’d finally found a nanny, he could do right by his son while at the same time getting back to what he did best. Killing terrorists with his guns, then slaying the ladies with his looks.

Chapter Two

When Calder left that morning, for Pandora the house took on the almost-reverent peace she’d only previously found in a church. Maybe it was because of the sun streaming through the many-paned windows? Or could it be as mundane a reason as her boss had painted most of the house angelic white? Regardless, she held Quinn on her hip, kicking off her sandals carefully, quietly taking it all in.

She admired the honeyed glow of maple floors in the kitchen, den and entry. In the living room, the carpet caressed her bare feet like crushed velvet. The brown leather couch and armchair still had tags hanging from them. The coffee table and a flat-panel TV sitting atop a wood stand were the room’s only other pieces. Calder mentioned he and Quinn hadn’t lived in the house long. Was he taking his time finding more stuff? Waiting till he had money in his budget? Or did he genuinely not care whether or not his house felt like a home?

She hoped he didn’t want to rush a big decision like finding just the right clock for the fireplace mantel and serene landscapes to hang on the walls. But then why would a rough, tough soldier care about any of that? He’d also admitted how much he worked. Why would a comfortable home even be high on his priority list? All he essentially needed was a place to park.

Which made her sad. Not for her, but for his son.

A survey of the kitchen showed Calder was right about her needing to go to the store. Unless she and Quinn wanted to eat baby-food peaches, carrots or protein shakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the day’s first priority was a trip to the store.

Noting the blender on the counter, Pandora decided no more bland, premade fare for her tiny charge. “You’re going gourmet, cutie.”

Quinn giggled when she landed a playful poke to his belly.

At the restaurant where she used to work after first getting her life back on track, she’d struck up a fast friendship with the chef. Huge, funny and French, in his laughable English he’d taught her to prepare most everything on the menu and a few items that weren’t. He’d been the only kind father figure she’d ever had, and his sudden heart attack had almost once again thrown her off course. All she remembered of her own dad was him constantly beating the crap out of her mom, occasionally taking a turn on her, then one day never coming home. Pandora would’ve thought her mom would be happy he was gone, but she’d suffered a meltdown—dying of an overdose near her forty-third birthday. Pandora, sixteen at the time, missed her, but for as long as she could remember, she’d virtually raised herself, doing her schoolwork as well as all the cooking and household chores, so the loss hadn’t come as any great shock. The distant aunt who’d taken official custody of her was all too happy for Pandora to remain self-sufficient. The ratty apartment’s rent and utilities were covered by her mom’s social security check. Pandora’s other needs were met through charity or after-school jobs.

The fact that her own mother had fallen apart should’ve served as the fire in her belly to make a better life for herself, but through counseling, Pandora now realized she’d fallen into the same abusive spiral.

Catching herself staring out the kitchen window, she said to the baby, “What do you think about from now on just focusing on our awesome future?”

He blew a raspberry in agreement.

“We have a lot to do. Not only is grocery shopping on our list, but I’ll need you to help me find a really pretty comforter and all the trimmings.”

Blue eyes wide, he hung on to her every singsong word.

“I know you’re a boy and probably don’t think a whole lot about things being pretty, but if you’d spent the past few years living where I have, you’d want to be surrounded by pretty things, too.”

Quinn babbled happily in response.

Turned out Calder’s car was as dreamy as his home. Her whole life, the closest she’d ever come to driving a new car had been when the mother of the children she used to work for had gotten a Lexus for her birthday and Pandora and the girls rode in the backseat on their way to a country-club party.

The Land Rover’s powerful engine didn’t sputter when she stopped for red lights and the tan leather upholstery smelled as good as it looked. In the rearview mirror, she regularly peeked at Quinn, all snug and smiley in his safety seat, gnawing on a rattle. Even he seemed to enjoy the ride.

The two of them made a few stops to find just the right floral bed set and fluffy yellow towels to match. Purchasing the items took nearly all her cash, but it was worth it.

With her purchases stashed in the back, she and Quinn headed to the grocery store.

Pandora had never bought so much food at once. Milk and eggs. Fruits, meats and veggies. When Calder said they were low on groceries, he hadn’t been kidding. While standing at the checkout, the total felt uncomfortably large. Her pulse raced and her palms were damp. Would the card Calder had given her even work?

The youngish female clerk asked, “May I see your ID?”

“Um, sure, but I’m a nanny and this is my boss’s card.” With Quinn fussing in his carrier, Pandora fished through her purse for her driver’s license.

“Sorry.” The woman returned Calder’s card to Pandora. “I’m not allowed to accept any credit card without matching ID.”